Author's note; Finally after way too long I managed to finish the sixth part! I am so sorry it took me this long to finish it; it was never my intention to leave you hanging for so long! Life's shitty, but I kicked my arse into gear today to finally finish this one. If I have any readers left for this, I'll be shocked.

Thanks to the following reviewers: littlesprout; Richon; MsAwesome2u; SehunsBae37; Same as Smithback; Moony242; AlyssaOtaku69; HoneyBear84; munnahasegawa; riddermark

Warnings: Drama

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

I hope you'll like it and once again, sorry for taking so long!

Part 6

Dinner went actually … rather well.

They actually managed to keep a conversation going while simultaneously avoiding dangerous pitfalls. Draco hadn't believed it was possible, but he and Potter could actually keep a conversation going without starting an argument or landing into a real fight. Certainly, their words were carefully chosen, questions considered before asked, but they succeeded in talking with each other without it blowing up in their face.

Undoubtedly mother would be very smug about this for a while.

After they finished dessert – a delicious chocolate cake with thin layers of strawberry jam within – mother not so subtly herded Draco and Potter into the garden with an airy, "Why don't you show Harry our garden, Draco?"

Draco had no idea what mother exactly was aiming at with sending them both to the garden, but he also knew better than to question her. While concealing a sigh, he stood up and gestured for Potter to follow him outside. Potter looked torn between being amused and wary, but he also appeared to sense that resistance was futile and he followed Draco into the garden.

"You really do have a beautiful garden," Potter said as he wandered along the rose bushes, following the winding path the house elves had created.

The sun had already set by now; some faint pink and purple streaks left behind in the sky. While they had been eating dinner, the house elves had gone through the garden, setting up small, floating balls of light so they could still see the roses and not accidentally fall into the fountain.

"You've got the house elves to thank for that," Draco said idly, but watched Potter sharply to see how he would react.

Granger's obsession with house elves' rights had practically become legendary during their school years and Draco was curious to find out how Potter would react to a mention of the house elves doing their job.

"I'll do so then; not going to tell Hermione about it, though," Potter smiled faintly.

"She still believes every house elf should be free?" Draco thought he should earn a medal for keeping his tone neutral instead of scoffing.

"There's nothing wrong with believing in her cause," Potter obviously came to his friend's defence but his voice was surprisingly mild. "That said, a lot of house elves are also just happy serving their families and don't necessarily want to be freed."

"Such insight," Draco murmured. "Where did that come from?"

"I inherited a house elf from my godfather; he's one of those elves who wouldn't appreciate being freed," Potter answered calmly. "He'd probably perish right on the spot if I ever dared to free him."

"You kept him?" Draco was a bit surprised at that. Potter might have a sane mindset about the role of house elves in their lives, but he would have thought his friendship with Granger would have seen him freeing the house elf anyways.

"He divides his time between Grimmauld Place and Hogwarts," Potter replied. "Like I said, he made it clear he didn't want to leave the house and we reached an understanding."

An understanding about what? What kind of understanding could be reached between a wizard and a house elf even?

Potter didn't elaborate, though, and simply followed the winding path, studying the flowers with great interest. Seeing him walk around so casually here was quite jarring, Draco had to admit. If anybody had told him a year ago that Harry Potter would be invited by his mother to have dinner in their manor and walk around their garden, he would have definitely cursed that person for even to dare to utter something so outrageous.

Yet Potter was here now, looking remarkably at ease given the history they had together. It could just be a front, of course, Potter pretending he was comfortable in order not to give away any weaknesses. Putting up a front was more so something Draco expected another Pureblood to do, though, not Potter. He actually sincerely doubted Potter could fool anybody with a mask, if he even knew how to use one.

Then he remembered the trials and how he hadn't even realised Potter had been severely injured until he had seen all the bandages on him in the hospital. Begrudgingly he had to admit – if only to himself – that perhaps Potter might actually know a thing or two about wearing masks and putting up fronts. That did lead to the question how he had learnt to use masks in the first place, considering he had grown up with Muggles.

"So any reason why your mother decided to invite me for dinner?" Potter asked neutrally. He paused in front of the basin, glancing at the nymphs for a couple of seconds before focusing on Draco again. "I've been trying to understand why she decided to invite me, but I just can't figure it out."

No surprise there considering Draco himself still didn't fully understand why mother had been so insistent on inviting Potter.

"Extending an olive branch is what she called it," Draco replied. "Honestly, Potter, I have no idea either. I was just as surprised as you were when she told me to invite you."

Potter frowned and opened his mouth but before he could say anything, mother suddenly appeared in the garden, striding towards them with an unusually grave look on her face.

"Mother?" Draco asked bemused and unwillingly tensed up a bit because the last time mother had worn such a grave look had been last year when –

She held up – a special evening edition of The Prophet?

"Harry, your home was attacked tonight."

The Prophet had always excelled in creating pictures as dramatically as they possibly could get away with, but in this case no effort on their part had been required. The picture blazing on the front page, taking up more than half of it, was dramatic enough on its own. It showed an unassuming house, marked as Grimmauld Place Twelve, engulfed in flames completely; the fire reaching high up into the sky while dark pillars of smoke covered up what little of the sky was still visible between the flames.

A last magical ward was keeping the Muggles from actually seeing the house, the reporter of the article claimed, but that only added to their confusion even further because all they could see was fire and smoke seemingly coming from between two houses. Aurors were already at the scene, both to try to douse the fire and to Obliviate all the Muggles who were witness to the gruesome spectacle.

Draco gazed down at the front page of the newspaper, looking on how Aurors were either conjuring water to battle the flames or leading Muggles away from it. The fire itself was astonishing on its own, because how could a house catch on fire when all its inhabitants save for an old house elf were gone? Houses of wizards and witches just didn't catch fire all willy-nilly like that. Not only was the source of the fire a mystery, however, but how could it even have happened in the first place?

Grimmauld Place had been infamous as the Black's home, but rumours had also spread that it had been the secret hideout of the Order of the Phoenix, led by Dumbledore himself. Draco recalled how Death Eaters had patrolled that street for weeks on end, but they had never managed to actually see the house in question. It didn't take a genius to figure out that must have been because the house had been hidden behind the wards created by the Fidelius Charm. Only the Secret Keeper could divulge the hidden location – but then again, Yaxley had managed to get behind the wards apparently when he had latched onto Granger.

Draco had no clue whether accidentally being brought into the wards like Yaxley had could count as him being a Secret Keeper. He didn't think it would, but on the other hand he wasn't as well versed in charms as he was in potions. It was possible that the wards had been weakened after Yaxley had managed to find entrance. Yaxley himself was dead, however, so he couldn't have been the one to set the place on fire. Who then?

Draco tapped his finger on the picture, watching the way the flames danced higher and higher. In order to set a heavily warded wizard's family home on fire, quite some power was necessary. Was it a mere coincidence that Potter's home had been targeted now? Draco didn't believe it was. First there had been the attack with the flowers at the hospital, then the mob chase through Diagon Alley. Now Grimmauld Place had been set on fire and would most likely be reduced to nothing but ash when one considered how vicious the flames tore at the building. That didn't really seem like a coincidence.

Somebody – somebody who had known about Grimmauld Place Twelve – had taken the time to lower the wards and set the building on fire. Considering how many Death Eaters and Dark Wizards would love to get their hands on Potter, the list of potential suspects was so enormously long, Draco very much doubted the Aurors would be able to narrow it down to just a small pool any time soon. Too many people wanted to see Potter dead or heavily injured. Certainly, when one considered how powerful one had to be in order to pull off all these attacks – if they were all perpetrated by the same person at least – then the list did shrink considerably, but that still left too many suspects to shift through. And if it were multiple people instead of just one, that made finding the attacks even more difficult.

Draco turned away from the table when soft footsteps echoed through the hallway, watching mother pause in the doorway. Her carefully constructed calm face melted somewhat, showing some of the weariness she was actually feeling. Even her blue eyes had lost some of their shine in spite of how well the evening had gone – until The Prophet had arrived.

"How bad was it?" Draco asked, tilting his head to the side.

The second Potter had fully comprehended what exactly was happening to his home, he had wanted to storm out immediately. Mother had managed to hold him back for a moment, pressing on him the importance of remaining calm – before making the shocking offer to Apparate him to Grimmauld Place herself. Both Draco and Potter had been completely taken off guard by that, but her explanation following her offer had sounded sensible.

"If you try to Apparate with your current state of mind, I fear you might end up Splinching yourself, Harry," Mother had spoken gently. "I believe it would be best if you let me Apparate you."

It was a testament to how frazzled Potter must have felt because he hadn't protested even once, simply following mother outside the wards in order to Side-Apparate there. Draco couldn't say he had been happy about that particular turn of events. While mother had been correct that Potter had been more likely to Splinch himself if he had Apparated on his own, the thought of mother showing up alone there, even with Potter in tow, hadn't sat well with him. Mother was far from weak, but most people weren't rational. They had never been to start with, but the war had made a lot of people even worse.

He understood why she had done it, however. Both because of what she had told Potter and because she was the only one who could have made that offer to begin with. Even if Draco had thought about suggesting it, with his current house arrest he wasn't allowed to leave the manor after six p.m. No doubt the Aurors would have had a field day arresting him if he had Side-Apparated with Potter. Knowing them, they would probably have even tried to pin the fire on him!

"I doubt it could have been worse, to be honest," Mother replied and sighed softly, entering the room. She paused next to the table, pursing her lips when she looked at the newspaper.

Taking a deep breath, she took a moment to brush her hands down her dress before she elaborated, "It wasn't ordinary fire to begin with; this was definitely magical fire."

"I figured," he murmured, casting another look at the picture.

While fire on its own was destructive enough, it was doubtful it could rage that much in such a short time period. Magical fire, though, did not have such limits at all. It wouldn't take the Aurors that long to put out normal fire either.

"My former family home is completely destroyed," she continued; her eyes gaining a distant sheen for a moment. "If there is any brick left after this, it will surely be a miracle."

"I'm sorry, mother," he said quietly, touching her wrist lightly.

Mother had never spoken much about her childhood. She might have told the occasional story but Draco had learnt more about the Blacks through the books he had perused than from his own mother. She had never appeared particularly sentimental about having left her home and practically being assimilated into the Malfoy family, but she wasn't made of stone – no matter what some people might spitefully claim. Seeing her old family home be utterly destroyed must be jarring to say the least, if not at least a bit upsetting.

She shook her head. "I haven't been there in years; it doesn't hurt. It's just a building."

Whether that was truly how she felt about it, he couldn't say but he knew it wasn't his place to pry.

"Where's Potter now?" he asked, more to slightly change the subject than for any other reason.

"At Saint Mungos," was the surprising answer.

He stared at her baffled. "What, did he run into the burning building or so?" he inquired bewildered. "He wasn't even there when the fire started, why does he need to be at the hospital?"

"It's not for him," she clarified and walked to the couch, sitting down on it. The second she was seated, a steaming cup of tea appeared on the small table next to her.

"His house elf, Kreacher, got severely injured," she continued, furrowing her eyebrows. "I didn't catch all the details, but it appears that Kreacher was cleaning the house and was taken completely by surprise by the fire. By the time he realised what was happening, it was too late to escape unscathed."

"How is that possible?" he questioned mystified and sat down in the armchair opposite of her. Next to him as well, a cup of tea appeared courtesy of the house elves. "A breach of the wards like that – surely, he must have noticed it the very moment the house was attacked?"

Even more than wizards and witches, house elves were intrinsically tied to the home they worked at and lived in. The second the wards had been under attack, Kreacher should have felt it. He should have had enough time to escape the burning building without becoming injured. He wondered if Kreacher had been that devoted to the house that he had preferred perishing with it and while that was a plausible idea, his very nature would have seen him seeking out Potter if only to warn him that the building was under attack. Potter was his master after all, any attack be that against the ward or the very house itself would have seen Potter being warned about it by his house elf.

"It's peculiar to say the least," Mother replied; her mouth thin as she seemed to contemplate what she had witnessed. "I will not speculate when I don't have all the details; I leave speculation up to the press," she added with a sneer.

It made Draco briefly smile before he sobered up when she continued.

"All I know for certain is that Kreacher did his best to protect his master's valuable possessions – and in doing so was caught within the burning building."

"Did one of the Aurors get him out?" Although from the slew of pictures provided by the press, it hadn't appeared as if any of the Aurors had gone inside Grimmauld Place Twelve. Those were merely snapshots of that moment, though; it was possible one of the Aurors had gone inside after the photographers had finished taking their pictures.

"No, he answered Harry's call when Harry went looking for him," Mother said; her fingers resting around the cup but not picking it up. Her face was quite pinched in a way Draco hadn't seen in a long time.

"His injuries can't have been that bad then, I presume?" he said cautiously.

A house elf still being able to respond to their master's call usually indicated that they weren't that badly injured.

"I am no expert in house elves, but I do believe Kreacher used up most if not all of his strength in order to respond to Harry's call," she said curtly. "He is not that young anymore either. To be quite frank, I am not entirely sure he will make it through this."

Mother's answer lingered in the room even as she finally picked up her cup of tea and started to nip from it. Draco had no idea what to say to that and simply picked up his own tea, joining mother in drinking it.

Outside, the small glowing balls of light were extinguished one by one.

The Prophet clearly had a field day with the attack on Grimmauld Place. For days following the arson, the newspaper ran article after article about it. They were either filled with interviews of witnesses and the occasional Auror giving vague answers or with speculations who could be behind it. If they weren't questioning who was behind the attack, they were wondering where Potter was currently staying. They had staked out the Weasleys' home to no avail, had busted into every possible hotel they could think of with no success and had even gone to check his old Muggle home, leaving empty-handed as well. There was the occasional moron claiming they were hosting the famous Harry Potter in their home, but those lies were always quickly dispelled by the Prophet itself, which seemingly had no patience for people lying to them.

Clearly irony was a stranger to them.

When all possible housing avenues had been exhausted, the newspaper decided Potter had to be staying at Hogwarts now, basing their suspicion on Dumbledore informing them that he and others – whoever those others might be – would help Potter find new housing and on the fact that Granger and Weasley had been spotted visiting Hogwarts four days after the attack.

How the old coot mentioning he would help Potter find a new house correlated to Potter living at Hogwarts now was some serious work of mental gymnastics that Draco couldn't hope to comprehend. Especially because as it turned out Potter –

"He is still staying at Saint Mungos then?"

Draco paused when mother's voice drifted out of the ajar door to an office he himself barely frequented. It had belonged to Aunt Gresilda if he remembered correctly, but as it never had piqued his interest he barely frequented that room. He knew that mother occasionally used it to hold Floo calls, which was something she was clearly doing now.

He was ready to dismiss the conversation and continue his way to his room to continue reading one of his potions books, but the voice of Aunt Andromeda made him draw to a stop again, near the room.

"He is, yes, though not for a lack of trying on Dumbledore's part," she said exasperatedly; her voice distorted slightly by the crackling of the fire.

They were talking about Potter? His interest was unwillingly piqued.

"In what way?" Mother asked mildly.

"They already found him a new place to stay at, one so heavily covered in wards, I doubt even the most proficient Charms master would manage to break through them," Aunt Andromeda explained. "They want him to stay there while they continue their search for the attackers, but Harry is not having any of that. He doesn't want to leave until Kreacher had healed."

"It has been more than a week now," Mother commented. "They aren't making any progress with healing him?"

"Never thought I would see the day when you appear concerned about a mere house elf, dear sister," Aunt Andromeda retorted.

A heavy pause followed and Draco wondered idly if his aunt had managed to burn every possible bridge she and mother could build before they had even been constructed in the first place with that throwaway remark.

Mother appeared not to take it to heart, however, because she said, "Harry was quite distraught when he saw the state Kreacher was in. No matter what you might think of me, Andromeda, I do have it in me to feel compassion for somebody else."

"I suppose that was rather unfair of me," Aunt Andromeda acquiesced albeit without sounding really apologetic. When she went on, though, she sounded a tad more friendly, "No, if I may be frank, they haven't made any progress with Kreacher at all. He still looks as awful as the night he was brought in. None of their spell work or their potions seem to have any sort of effect. There have been talks about stopping the treatment but Harry is adamant they keep trying. Even their best specialist in magical beings can't come up with any treatment, though."

That wasn't that surprising. Even though they had come up with treatments that benefitted most magical beings, house elves carried with them a special distinction when it concerned healing them. No strangers to being abused by their masters occasionally, house elves had learnt to treat themselves, performing feats of healing magic that stumped even the most proficient Healer. The way house elves could yield healing magic placed them in a category all of their own. Some Healers had attempted in the past to study their healing magic and use it en masse in the hospitals instead of limiting it only to the family the house elf was serving, but none had so far succeeded in that.

"When have house elves ever recovered in a hospital?" Mother commented idly.

"Never," Aunt Andromeda confirmed. The crackling of the fire became louder for a couple of seconds when she sighed heavily. "I have told Harry this because I wanted him to prepare himself for what is to come, but he's stubborn. He refuses to give up on Kreacher."

Of course Potter would be sentimental over a house elf, it figured. Shaking his head, Draco continued his trek to his room. From the sound of it, the house elf wouldn't have that much longer to live. If he was indeed as heavily injured as mother had described him, it could probably be called a miracle that he was still holding onto life currently.

Probably because his master is staying with him, Draco mused idly, stepping into his room.

House elves could feed off on the strength of their masters, using that in order to heal themselves; just another way they had adapted to living with wizards and witches. Even with Potter being his master officially, however, Draco wondered how much strength Kreacher really could pull from Potter when he had served the Blacks for so long. In the grand scheme of things, he supposed that Potter also had some Black blood in him at least considering that most Pureblood families were related to each other to a certain degree. While Potter's mother had been Muggleborn, the Potters themselves had been a very respectable Pureblood family, able to align themselves with other Pureblood families through marriage, including the Blacks.

Potter was not a Black by birth, however, so Draco doubted that even being Kreacher's official master would do much to help the house elf heal himself. That was unfortunately how the healing magic of house elves worked. Kreacher might have been able to heal himself if the injuries had been light, but if they were as horrific as mother claimed they had been …

Draco shook his head and sat down behind his desk, opening the book again. It was unfortunate for Potter, but that was just life. There was no point in thinking about this any longer, anyways. It wasn't as if he would see Potter again unless he decided to return to Hogwarts for another year.

"Do you have anything planned today, dear?" Mother asked when Draco walked past her bedroom.

She was standing in front of the mirror, studying the pale blue dress she wore with narrowed eyes. This dress had faint shimmers of silver worked throughout the material, making the cloth shimmer subtly whenever she moved.

"Nothing in particular, I suppose," he replied, resting his hand against the doorframe. "I'm thinking of finishing reading the potions book I started. I might perhaps try my hand at brewing potions in the afternoon."

It was a way to keep himself occupied while he tried to decide whether it would be worth it to return to Hogwarts or not.

"In that case, would you mind joining me?" she suggested, turning away from the mirror to give him a smile.

"Join you where?" he asked curiously, trying to remember if she had been talking with a Pureblood family. Was she extending olive branches again? He wasn't certain whether his presence would actually be necessary during such meetings. Mother had always been better at those than he was.

"To Saint Mungos," she answered, flicking her wand at her hair to curl it softly.

"Why? Is someone we know ill?" he questioned bewildered. Pansy or Blaise perhaps? Although he hadn't heard from them in a while.

"We're going to pay Harry a visit," she stated frankly.

What.

AN2: At this rate, Draco's going to get scared any time Narcissa suggests something. Any ideas why she wants to visit Harry?

Please leave your thoughts behind in a review; should you spot any mistakes, please point them out to me.

I hope to see you all back in the next chapter! Please stay safe and take care of yourselves!

Cuddles

Melissa

P.S. For more information about my upcoming and posted stories, please visit my profile.