Casualties of War

They came for Harry in the dead of night, three tense Aurors that he had never seen before. They whisked him out of Privet Drive in silence and Apparated to what he guessed was St. Mungo's Hospital. Harry had never Apparated before; the experience left him slightly dizzy, and it took him a while to puzzle out where they had ended up. He could tell it was a hospital, if only by the number of sick and injured wizards sitting around, and the only magical hospital he could call to mind was St. Mungo's.

They had appeared at the end of a vast, crowded reception area, where rows of witches and wizards sat on rickety wooden chairs, some looking perfectly normal and some with grotesque disfigurements. Witches and wizards in lime green robes, embroidered with a wand and a bone on the chest, were wandering up and down the rows, making notes on little clipboards. He wanted to ask one of the Aurors if St. Mungo's was, indeed, where they were, but could no more voice the question than he could ask who was hurt or killed. He quickly lost track of where they were going, but gamely followed as the Aurors led him through twisty corridors and oddly named wards, floors full of oddly injured wizards and witches that eyed him dolefully as they walked by. They climbed rickety staircases lined with portraits of rather frightening looking Healers that called out to them as they passed, offering obscure and puzzling advice.

They didn't have far to go: Third Floor. The small window set into the double doors that marked the beginning of the new floor said POTION AND PLANT POISIONING. He was a little surprised to see Professor McGonagall waiting for him instead of Dumbledore or a Weasley; she rose to her feet when she spied him approaching. He stared at her as she curtly dismissed the Aurors, a cold feeling settling in his chest: I can't take any more of this.

He hadn't even known about the Order of the Phoenix until the last time he was stolen away in the middle of the night and told that people were dead, nearly a month ago. His neighbor, Mrs. Figg. He hadn't even known she was a Squib. Charlie Weasley. An Auror he hadn't even known, a girl who was barely older than himself. And Professor Lupin. Sirius had been there that night, miraculously, and Harry had held Sirius numbly while his godfather cried. He had been unable to shed a tear. He'd never seen an adult cry over something that mattered before, almost couldn't understand it. Now, in the hospital, he can't understand the expression on McGonagall's face as she studied him in return, a mixture of pity and horror. "Potter," she said, in a more gentle tone of voice than he had ever heard her use before.

"Is it Dumbledore?" The question burst out of him, and he wanted to slap a hand over his mouth in disgust. It wasn't even a relief when she shook her head; it only meant that somebody else was behind the closed door she kept glancing to. He couldn't ask if it is Sirius, didn't know if he could handle Sirius being -

"Remus Lupin has been found," she said gravely. Harry felt the world spin around him, and he heard his own voice, as if from a great distance, accusing.

"You said he was dead."

She hesitated, for just an instant, and Harry held his breath, but all she did was exhale and shut her eyes. "We thought he was." Carefully, she reached out and steered him into one of the chairs that lined their stretch of hallway, seating him to face her. He allowed her to, the hope that had leapt instantly into his chest warring with the coldness that had been all he'd been able to feel recently. "Potter," she said seriously. "You know we found bodies. Four of them, the same number of ..." She trailed off helplessly. "With Moody being indisposed, there was no way to properly identify them, and we simply assumed ..." She cleared her throat, and Harry wanted to scream at the sorrow in her eyes. "Harry, Professor Lupin has been Voldemort's captive for over a month. He regained consciousness only about thirty minutes ago, and - well, we don't know exactly what's happened to him yet. He's been through things that are nearly unimaginable to you and I, and I want you to keep that in mind when you see him. He may not seem like himself." She took another deep breath, and a shadow passed over her face. "Something halted his transformation mid-way through, and he's very badly injured. It's only thanks to Professor Snape that he's alive at all. Professor Dumbledore is with him now, but ... they're doing all they can to help him, but remember to be very quiet while in the room, and not to touch him." She stood up too quickly and looked down at him, asking silently if he was ready. He followed her, and held his breath as they passed through the doorway, a question burning in the back of his mind: Snape? Snape saved Lupin?

Harry had never been in a hospital before, but he had seen them on television, and the first thing that entered his mind when they stepped into the room was that it looked nothing like a Muggle hospital. Absent were the softly beeping, ominous-looking medical instruments, the metal bars on the bed. The room was lit by softly glowing candles set in what looked like giant soap bubbles floating in clusters along the ceiling. Lupin lay in the only bed in the long room, and two figures were seated on either side of it, glowing faintly, their hands stretched over the supine figure underneath. Snape was slumped in a chair in the far corner of the room, his face a mask, holding a miniature witch's hat loosely between his hands, topped with a stuffed vulture. Harry rounded the bed slowly, following McGonagall's lead, looking first into Dumbledore's face and then into the face of the witch sitting across from him before he could look into the bed itself.

It didn't look like a human being was lying in the bed. Under the blankets, there were hills and hollows that weren't supposed to belong to a human being, the curve of the belly and spine, the way the legs didn't seem to be there at all. Lupin's face was visible above the blankets, as well as his hand, which stuck out in an unnatural angle. His eyes were open, his mouth slightly parted; he stared at nothing as Dumbledore and the witch slowly knitted his body back into the shape it was supposed to be. Harry could see the shifting of bones in the hand and felt sick in a very far-off kind of way. Lupin's eyes focused on Harry as the boy moved hesitantly closer to the bed, and his mouth almost curled into a smile. His lips moved: Harry. Alive. So glad. His fingers twitched unexpectedly, beckoning Harry forward. Before he could take a step McGonagall put a hand on his shoulder, holding him firmly in place. Harry watched with distant eyes the slow slide of the bones inside Remus' thumb as they crept back into place, and thought that maybe he would be sick after all. "I'm sorry, Professor," he whispered as he backed away.

Snape and McGonagall followed him out into the hallway and exchanged glances when he sat on the floor, purposefully ignoring the chairs beside him. McGonagall seated herself stiffly in a chair, but Snape remained standing, arms folded over his chest. He didn't look at Harry; he stared off into the distance with a deeply unsettled look on his face, twitching that stupid hat in one hand and giving the impression that he wanted badly to pace. Harry stared at the ground and was only slightly aware that was he rocking back and forth. He didn't want to throw up in the hallway, didn't want to throw up in front of Snape. McGonagall looked as though she wanted to pat him on the shoulder, but only settled her hands in her lap and looked to Snape.

"Lucon," Snape started, and then stopped, looking thoughtful. "It's the only possibility. Used in growth inhibiting potions, most commonly." He shook his head. "I don't see how Lupin could have possibly managed to ignore that the Potion was a different color."

"He's color-blind," Harry said softly. The adults looked to him, and he looked back. "Sirius told me. He sees in black and white, like a wolf." For a moment he thought that Snape would snarl at him for knowing the answer, but the anger in Snape's eyes vanished quickly, leaving something that Harry didn't want to think about. For a moment, Snape lost his mask, his inscrutability, and Harry could see a tired, aging man underneath it. For a moment he thought he could see the hopelessness in Snape's eyes.

As if he could feel Harry's gaze physically, Snape closed his eyes. "Minerva, I'm going to check on Malfoy." He gifted them with a bitter smile. "I think he's almost convinced I'm not here to kill him." He turned on a heel and they watched him stride down the hallway. Harry let him get fifteen paces away before turning to glare at McGonagall.

"Malfoy?" he spat. He was almost grateful for the distraction, an excuse not to think about the misshapen form inside the room they had just left. "What's a Malfoy doing here?"

McGonagall's expression hovered somewhere between amused and sharp. He could almost see the first comment that came to her mind: Well, this is a hospital, Potter. "Draco Malfoy was found wandering in the Forbidden Forest two days ago. He was nearly killed by Death Eaters for an attempt to save a Slytherin girl named Pansy Parkinson from being brutalized." She twisted her fingers as she spoke, and Harry stared at her hands instead of her face. "Unfortunately, he was unsuccessful, and she was killed." Harry was on the verge of scoffing: If that's what his story is. As if Malfoy would ever try and help anyone, but McGonagall cut him off with a rather unnerving look. "Snuffles will be coming to visit, later, when the Healers have gone. We've set up a Portkey for him, but he won't be able to be here for a few more hours. There is a tearoom upstairs. Perhaps you'd like to wait there." She stood up and strode briskly towards the end of the hallway, not waiting for an answer. It took him a moment to stand, and he fell in step a few feet behind her.

Of course, there were more staircases to climb. Harry only lasted half a flight of steps before he decided to risk his question: "How did Snape save Lupin?"

"Professor Snape, Potter," she replied absently. Her voice was distant as she continued, pulling herself up one stair at a time. "Professor Dumbledore will explain everything once Snuffles arrives. I have not heard the full story myself. I would advise you to wait for the truth, rather than hearing half of it from me." They had reached a door that said VISITORS' TEA ROOM AND HOSPITAL SHOP, and as they crossed the threshold McGonagall rounded on him.

"Potter," she said sharply, "it is long past time you put your grudge against Professor Snape to rest, what with recent events. I am not expecting an apology from either one of you on your past behavior, but I would prefer at least a lack of open hostility. Especially now, when we have just suffered our first casualties." He eyed her openly, not bothering to conceal his opposition to the idea, his urge to scream 'What about Cedric?' He wanted very badly to just stride past her and into the tea room, but was held fast in her steely gaze. "Believe it or not, Professor Snape is on our side, and he is only a human being. He blames himself not only for failing to warn the Order of an attack upon our headquarters, but also for what has happened to Lupin and for failing to protect his students." Her nostrils flared as they faced each other in the wide hallway leading to the tearoom, staring each other down. "I would not wish such a burden on anybody, Potter, and I expect you to conduct yourself around him properly."

"I will he if he does," Harry replied angrily, and then he really did march past her and into the tearoom, throwing himself down in a plush chintz armchair. He didn't admit to himself that he was a little disappointed when she did not follow him in. He listened to the squeal of the door opening and closing at the end of the corridor, and scowled when a timid young witch approached him to see if he'd like some tea. She set a cup before him anyway, and he scowled at the cup, as well. Snape and Malfoy making heroic sacrifices. He settled deeper into the armchair, scratching his nose furiously. All thoughts of Lupin, even the thought of seeing his godfather were banished from his mind. Apologize to Snape. Apologize! And all that crap about Malfoy thinking Snape was trying to kill him. For Merlin's sake, Malfoy practically hung onto Snape's sleeve, the little bitch, his mind added. As if Malfoy would defend someone against the Death Eaters. As if he wasn't a Death Eater already. As if he wasn't some smarmy prat who had declared them all to have picked the "losing side" last time he had seen him ... that is, before Harry and his friends had hexed Malfoy into a tentacled oblivion.

Thoughts fizzled as he fought to stay awake. His body had only momentarily forgotten that it was well past two o'clock in the morning, and fatigue was returning with a vengeance. His eyelids slid shut and he let them, still focused on his anger, which faded rapidly as he lost consciousness and

The bone slid home, filling the thumb so quickly that it looked swollen for a moment. Amber eyes looked to him and. Harry. Alive. So glad. Broken teeth inside the bloody maw of Lupin's mouth which worked soundlessly with Harry. Alive. So glad. The rise and fall of breath under the tent of blankets that suddenly looked much too red and then Snape was pushing him out of the way and yanking the blankets off the bed. They came slowly, sliding off the body underneath as the dried blood pulled at congealing pieces of flesh that were revealed as Snape snapped the sheet in a last flourish. Harry's hands moved to cover his eyes, twitched uselessly at his side as he swam in the air, drowning under Lupin's golden gaze and the writhing mass of rot that used to be his body, crushed to an unrecognizable shape. His hand fluttered weakly and snatched at Harry's, and then he was being pulled forward, into the bed and the body and the blood and the decay and Lupin still saying above him: Harry. Alive. So glad. And the smell of meat saturated his nose and he choked on it, choking on the meat that filled his mouth Harry and couldn't breathe and tasted so sweet and Alive could feel Snape's hands on him, cursing and pulling and So glad and and

Hands were shaking him, pulling him back to awareness. He slapped at them halfheartedly as he opened his eyes, and jumped when he saw a pair of brilliant green eyes only inches from his own. It was the witch from downstairs, who had been working with Dumbledore to heal Lupin. "Sorry, Harry," she said with a smile. "Didn't mean to startle you, but, er, Snuffles is here and you're wanted downstairs." He struggled up from the armchair, sinking deep into its depths before he managed to stand, and followed her out and into the corridor. His heart was still pounding, a leftover from his nightmare, as they reached the room where Lupin was. The black-haired witch knocked softly, and McGonagall opened the door almost instantly. "Thank you, Hestia," she said as Harry was admitted back into the room.

The atmosphere in the room had changed considerably since Harry left. McGonagall shot him a weary, relieved smile as he passed her, and even Snape looked a little less evil than normal. He didn't have the chance to observe anything else, however, as his vision was completely obscured without warning; Sirius had thrown himself on Harry, enveloping him in a hug, and it was a minute before Harry was released and allowed to breathe again. He looked up at his godfather, grinning as Sirius held and shared his expression. He looked fit to burst with happiness as he put an arm around Harry's shoulders and led him to Lupin's bedside.

His heart seized as they came close to the huddled figure under the blankets, white blankets, his mind tried to reassure him. No blood. Nothing but Remus Lupin, who looked about as healthy as he ever did, beaming up at Harry with unbroken, unbloody teeth. He looked a little unfocused, that was for sure, but he looked at Harry with a perfectly cheerful, normal expression. Harry felt relief creeping up on him, and looked back up at Sirius, who seemed to be beyond speech.

"Harry," came a voice from the other side of the bed. Dumbledore nodded and smiled at Sirius and Harry, his expression serene. He pulled his wand out, gave it a little flick and two armchairs that bore suspicious resemblance to the entirely too comfortable chairs in the tearoom upstairs appeared. Harry eyed his a little warily as he sat down, not quite recovered him his nap upstairs to really trust such a cozy chair. "I think that it is time for everyone to hear the entire story." Dumbledore's voice cheered Harry in a way that even seeing Sirius again hadn't.

Dumbledore would fix everything.

Dumbledore gestured toward Snape, beckoning him forward. "Severus, would you please explain what happened?" Snape's head snapped up, and his jaw tightened. Harry watched his black eyes flicker first to Lupin, and then to Sirius before he started to speak.

"Headmaster, I was unaware that anything had happened," he said. His eyes strayed to Sirius warily, as if he was expecting an attack from that corner. "The Dark Lord had kept me isolated for some time, and I was unable to communicate with the Order. Discovery would have been certain. It wasn't until I was asked to brew the Wolfsbane Potion that I was aware that anything was wrong. When I was finally able to leave undetected from my quarters, I went to find Lupin ... and found him in the condition he was in when we arrived at St. Mungo's." His mouth tightened. "I was able to follow the screaming."

Next to Harry, Sirius tensed, and let his breath out in a quiet, explosive string of curses. Everybody looked at him as he groped for Lupin's hand and held it tight. Lupin's eyes had fallen shut, but his hand tightened around Sirius' convulsively. Something landed on the foot of the bed. It was the tiny witch's hat with the vulture on it that Snape had been carrying around all this time. He had thrown it, carelessly; as they looked back to him he bared his teeth at Lupin in a humorless smile. "Dumbledore supplied me with that before I left; an object to carry with me that would transform into a Portkey should I need to escape quickly. This ... thing was an amulet. I assume I have your sense of humor to thank for the ... choice of object that it transformed to, Lupin." Lupin opened his eyes again and regarded the hat with a faint look of amusement. His amber eyes twinkled.

"Actually, I don't believe I had anything to do with it." His voice sounded even more hoarse than normal. As if he had screamed his throat raw. Snape responded with a sneer. Harry felt pressure on his shoulder, and glanced behind himself to see Sirius rising, his face grim. Snape's mouth twitched slightly as he approached, and the two stared each other down for a long moment. Harry recalled that they had stood exactly that way only six weeks earlier, eyeing each other with utter loathing as Dumbledore forced them to shake hands after the end of the Triwizard Tournament. He couldn't see Sirius' expression from where he sat, but Snape's face showed uncertainty, his lip curling in what seemed an almost automatic manner. I know what you're going to say, that look said. I know what to expect from you. I'm a useless spy, I caused the death of three people. I failed to protect Lupin. My fault, yes, I know. It seemed the entire room was holding its breath, waiting for Sirius to speak.

"Severus," he started, and hesitated. It sounded like just saying the name was causing him pain. His next words came in a rush. "Thank you. You - thank you for - for ..." He gestured helplessly at Lupin, and then extended his hand. Snape simply stared at him for a moment, his expression unreadable, and when he accepted, the handshake was brief and he let go with a vague expression of distaste on his face.

"In any case," he continued abruptly, as Sirius retreated. "The Dark Lord knows. I will not be able to return." Dumbledore dismissed this with a wave of his hand.

"Perhaps that is for the best. At any length, you were able to save Remus' life."

There was silence for a long moment. Dumbledore was the first to speak.

"I'm afraid that we shall need to leave St. Mungo's tonight. We've been able to keep Mr. Malfoy's presence here quiet, but I'm afraid that we are terribly vulnerable here. Hestia has promised me that it is safe to move you, Remus, and I'd like that to happen as swiftly as possible. Do you know what I must ask of you?"

Lupin nodded. He looked only seconds from unconsciousness, but his gaze was steady as he faced Dumbledore. "My home is well protected. Harry -"

He was cut off by Sirius, who said, rather aggressively, "Harry has been with those Muggles long enough. He has to come with us." Dumbledore merely chuckled.

"I agree, he has fulfilled his obligation for the year." Harry didn't understand what that meant. Dumbledore's head bobbed up and down as he nodded, a picture of an agreeable old man. "He will be much better protected with the two of you. However," and here his voice grew sharper; "Young Mr. Malfoy will be coming with you."

Disagreement came from all sides as Harry, Sirius and Snape vocalized their displeasure at the very idea.

"How can we trust him, he could be spying --"

"Sir, I believe I've made my feelings clear on this matter, Lupin's home would NOT be an appropriate environment -"

"I am NOT going to live with that - that -" Harry followed his protest up with a word that would have made even Fred and George blush. McGonagall gave him a look that said very clearly what she would have done if he had said such a thing at Hogwarts. Sirius looked a little startled, a vague look of approval on his face. Dumbledore didn't even react; his next words were addressed to Snape and Sirius.

"I have my reasons for sending the boy with Remus. He will be safer there than anywhere else - safer than at Hogwarts itself. Given the extreme nature of the harm done to him, I have a very hard time believing that he consented to any sort of spying mission ... and he has already been looked over for any sort of Charms or curses."

"The burn," Snape said tightly. Harry looked from Dumbledore to Snape and back again as they stared each other down. Long moments passed. It seemed to Harry that power radiated off the two men in waves, the emotion and exhaustion they all felt concentrated into that angry, determined glare they shared. Finally, Snape cursed softly underneath his breath and Disapparated with a loud crack. Harry looked to Dumbledore.

"I believe he has gone to fetch Mr. Malfoy," the old man clarified. Sirius stirred uneasily.

"I still don't believe this is a good idea, sir."

Dumbledore sighed, and folded his hands into his lap. It was as if he had aged ten years in a single moment, his shoulders slumped and his eyes dark. "When you see the boy," he said quietly, "you will understand." Sirius made a noise in his throat and sat back down. He looked to Harry, and then to Lupin, who seemed to have finally passed out completely. His mouth hung open slightly, and Harry was comforted to be reminded, unexpectedly, of the sleeping Professor on the Hogwarts Express, the first time he had met Lupin. He looked back to Sirius, who glanced up with the strangest look on his face; he had been staring at Lupin with an expression of great fondness, a gaze so tender that it startled Harry. When he noticed Harry watching him, his face split into a dazzling grin.

"How about it, Harry? We're finally going to be a family, like I promised." No more Dursleys. No more Privet Drive. No more Surrey, he supposed; it was hard to imagine a werewolf living in such an, er, civilized area. Any response he might have had for Sirius, however, vanished in an instant as Snape returned, bearing Malfoy.

It felt, for a moment, like the world had twisted onto its head. Behind him, he heard Sirius suck in a breath. His mind rapidly pawed through memories of Malfoy, and drew up short. This creature, nearly crouched in the doorway, was not Malfoy. It couldn't be Malfoy. Malfoy was immaculate in neat and obviously expensive robes, hair slicked back, with that almost jaunty smirk that seemed permanently affixed to his face. This wasn't Malfoy. It just couldn't be. He looked sick and sweaty, his face multicolored with the last remains of healing bruises marring his pale skin, aristocratic body clad in cheap hospital clothes, pale strands of hair falling into his eyes. Both arms were wrapped around himself, the sleeve of his right arm pulled up enough to see that his entire hand had been swathed carefully in bandages. Silver eyes blinked fearfully - what was he thinking, a Malfoy wasn't fearful - into the room as everybody stared at him, transfixed. Snape's arm tightened around the boy's shoulders, and he steered him carefully into the nearest chair, another one of Dumbledore's creations. With obvious intent, he turned his back to the assembled witches and wizards and crouched before Malfoy, speaking rapidly in a low tone.

The adults, chastened, turned back to planning their next move; Harry tuned them out. He watched Malfoy's head move slowly up and down, nodding in response to whatever the hell Snape was telling him.

"- did you make sure all the wards -"

"Yes, yes, they're all fine. We'll check them again -"

Malfoy looked up, unexpectedly, leveling his gaze at Harry in seeming response to something Snape has said, but only closed his eyes with a pained expression on his face, as if to explain that that was simply the end of it.

"- send him in a few days with the boy's things -"

"- already in motion, Dumbledore -"

Harry swayed. His stomach hurt, he was dizzy, he was exhausted, and the squashy armchair he was occupying certainly wasn't keeping him awake. He studied the boy that still sat only a few feet away, studied the curve of Malfoy's neck bent down to Snape, considered memories of that same pale nape bowed carefully over parchment, quill scraping quietly. He tried to telegraph the thought: I see right through you. You don't fool me at all, you fucking spoiled berk. I'm going to be watching you.

A heavy hand landed on his shoulder. He looked behind him to see Sirius' grim face staring down at him. For a wild moment, he almost wondered if his godfather had somehow heard what he was thinking, but he only grunted and said: "We're about ready to go." Chairs scraped; everybody was getting to their feet, and Sirius turned away to help Lupin get to his feet.

"Severus, would you care to go first?" Dumbledore asked, his tone courteous. He gestured with his wand towards the tiny witch's hat that still lay upon the bed. "Portus." Snape spared one last glance to Malfoy, who stared back at him with his chin lifted. He walked to the foot of the bed slowly, and then did something very strange.

"It was a different color," he said to Lupin, and his voice was ... almost affectionate, Harry realized. Gentle. And Lupin only looked back at him with a gaze that seemed to exclude everyone in the room, and gave the tiniest incline of his head. With that, Snape was gone, deigning only the slightest touch of his fingers to the Portkey.

"You first, Harry," Sirius said, nudging him forward as Dumbledore produced, miraculously, a second tiny witch's hat topped with a stuffed vulture from his pocket, waving his wand over it to create another Portkey. Harry looked at the hat and marveled at its absolute silliness at the same time the thought entered his head: It'll happen again. I'll touch it and be back in the graveyard and this time he really will kill me. He was already smelling moss and damp earth when he felt that dreaded pull behind his navel, and his feet left the ground.

Instead he slammed into soft ground, falling to his knees. All he could do was stare, stunned; instead of a dark and overgrown graveyard, he was surrounded by sweet smelling plants. Instead of a fine old house standing on a hillside, a rambling stone farmhouse stood a short distance away, looking as though it had seen better days. Morning's first light winked at him. He laughed shakily, and felt relief flood his chest.

Malfoy appeared next to him with a soft popping sound, and immediately tumbled to the ground, rolling to avoid his bandaged arm with a hiss. Harry looked to him curiously, watching Malfoy squirm about on the ground until he was flat on his back. Only then did the little ferret - his mind insisted on substituting - open his eyes, focusing on something behind Harry. "What the hell is that?" he demanded, in a far more spirited way that his appearance would suggest he was capable of,

Harry turned and found himself staring into a pair of liquid brown eyes exactly level with his own. His vision swam; whatever it was, it was less than a foot away from his face, and he squinted as his eyes attempted to compensate for the sudden change of depth. Whatever it was, it was very furry. And light brown. Unexpectedly, it mooed and licked his face.

Harry stumbled backwards at the same moment that Sirius and Lupin popped into view. "Shoo," Sirius said irritably to the cow - for it was indeed a cow, although it was the smallest and furriest cow Harry had ever seen - which ambled off, mooing as it went. Lupin chuckled, leaning heavily on Sirius' arm. They turned as one to look at Malfoy, who was still lying flat on the ground with the most unpleasant expression on his face. "Can you stand, boy?" Sirius' tone was the same as when he was addressing the cow. Malfoy sniffed in response and pushed himself to a slightly shaky standing position.

All Harry could think about was sleep. He barely saw the rooms they passed through, zeroed in on the stairs when Lupin directed him toward the bedroom he'd be sleeping in. He could hear Sirius and Lupin's voices following him up the stairs, something about another bed, but he couldn't quite bring himself to care. Malfoy could go sleep with that cow, for all it mattered to him. He collapsed onto the bed, pulling somewhat dusty quilts up around his face to block out the sun, and was asleep in moments.

This time, he was not disturbed by dreams.