Starting Over Again

>Away at last! Harry was so relieved to wake up and not be in the bed he slept in at the Dursley's house. Being there had not helped his already bad mood. They didn't even allow him out of the house this summer. Now that he could, Harry decided to go take a walk. After getting dressed, the young man crept down the stairs and out through the kitchen door into the refreshing morning air.
It was dawn at the Borrow, the home of Harry Potter's best friend, Ron Weasley. Harry had been staying at the home of his aunt and uncle for almost four weeks. He was beginning to go a little crazy. (Well, crazier really.) One can only take being called a pathetic freak so many times. Then, fortunately, the night before, his old professor, Remus Lupin, came and took him to the Dursley's. He was almost hoping he had stayed at the Dursley's, because he was dreading tomorrow.
Tomorrow he had to go to 12 Grimmauld Place, where his godfather used to live. Harry didn't want to go back; he didn't want to relive Sirius's death over and over as he had for the last four weeks. He didn't want to see the closest person to a father he had ever had fall, slain by his own cousin. He didn't want think about those memories anymore. The more Harry thought about the Department of Mysteries the more the memories threatened to overwhelm him.
When he walked outside it was so peaceful. Peaceful, now there was a word not usually used to describe Harry's life. Chaotic, painful, and lonely were more common in his life. But sure enough, birds were chirping, the garden gnomes were being quiet, the air smelled like Mrs. Weasley's flowers; a bloody body was laying in the front yard... Wait, a bloody body!?
Harry ran over to where the person was lying face down in the grass. As he knelt down next to the man, he could see the wounds more clearly. In fact, almost too clearly. There were whip marks all down his back leading into his blue boxers. One of his legs was twisted into a funny position, and looked broken. The blood covering his head probably meant something had hit him there, but Harry couldn't tell through-Oh god, there was so much blood. And no wonder! From what Harry could see the guy had been stabbed a few times too.
As gently as he could, Harry rolled the man over to see his face. Concerned emerald eyes met teary silver ones, as Harry looked into the face of his school rival, Draco Malfoy. He couldn't believe it. Draco Malfoy was lying near dead in the Weasley's front lawn. What was he doing here? Why was he covered in blood?
Malfoy was as shocked as Harry was. "Potter? Oh, well that is just perfect. Just the person I wanted to see again before I die." He clenched his teeth in pain. Apparently it wasn't even a good idea for him to speak, which was too bad. Not that Harry minded having the blond quiet, but an explanation was kind of needed at the moment.
"Calm down, Malfoy. I'm not just going to let you die here."
Malfoy smiled, or at least attempted to smile. It wound up being more of a grimace. "I didn't think you would," he whispered. "I didn't think the Weasels would either. That's why I'm here. Ow, dammit!"
Malfoy hissed in pain and took a deep but shaky breath. Then something completely unexpected happened. He started to cry. Tears were streaming from the Slytherin's eyes, as he tried to turn away. Having his arch rival see him cry was not on today's to do list. But he just couldn't help it. He had nearly been beaten to death and his father had just watched. Thinking about it only made Malfoy cry harder. He lay flat on his back and looked straight up at the sky, letting the tears stream freely down his face.
Suddenly, there was something stroking the only part of his head not covered in blood. Turning his head slightly, Malfoy saw Harry Potter looking concerned. Then the realization hit. Potter was petting him. Potter was looking concerned over him. And that felt good. Talk about scary situations.
Of course, Harry wasn't having the best morning either. Draco Malfoy was lying, near dead on the Weasley's front lawn, and crying. Malfoy was crying for heaven's sake! And he, Harry Potter, bane of Malfoy's existence, was the one comforting him. Life is strange, which is probably the reason for what he did next.
As carefully as possible, Harry slipped his arm underneath Malfoy's back and his other at the back of his knees. He then lifted the sobbing Slytherin off the ground.
"What are you doing?" Malfoy asked. Being lifted into the air by one's arch nemesis was not a good thing.
Harry rolled his eyes. "I thought it was rather obvious, Malfoy. I'm carrying you to the house."
Malfoy was in shock. He had expected someone to find him and go get help. Never in his dreams had he expected to be invited into the house he had so mercilessly made fun of the past five years. Nonetheless, there he was, being carried inside the Weasley home by Harry Potter.
When Harry reached the front door he heard someone inside yelling at someone else.
"Really George! Is that absolutely necessary? Fred, stop doing that and Ginny, dear, stop running all over the place!"
Harry smiled at the scene. He was lucky he got to see stuff like this, even if he would never really experience it. Then he saw Ron coming down the stairs.
"Hey, Ron," he yelled. "Could you open the door, mate?"
Ron walked over and opened the door, but didn't move to let Harry inside.
"Harry," he said slowly. "Harry, you realize who you are carrying, don't you?"
Harry sighed. "Yes, Ron, I know who I am carrying. Now, will you please move out of the way? He is getting rather heavy and before you say it look at him. He is in no condition to put up a fight. And in case he is a spy we won't say anything important around him. Alright?"
By the time Ron move out of the way, the entire kitchen had stopped to see whom Harry was holding. Instantly, Mrs. Weasley took command.
"Someone go get Madam Pomfrey. Then go get Dumbledore."
End chap. 1