Fraternizing with the Enemy

Disclaimer: I don't own any of this.

Warnings:

This is, I guess now, considered an AU slash fic. It takes place post-war, and doesn't follow DH much at all. There will be some similarities, but there will be no Deathly Hallows.

Some characters in this story have been revived. I don't want to have emails saying "that's not canon, so and so is dead" or whatever. That's why it's now an AU fic.

This is a HP/DM slash. If you don't like it, don't read it =)

It's been a very long time since I've written anything, so forgive me. No, I won't be updating my old stories. I've given up on those long ago, so don't ask.

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His knees were aching, and he could feel wetness dripping down the back of his neck. Hands were on his shoulders, and he knew someone was talking to him. Buzzing in his ears didn't allow the words to make sense. Fingers pushed his chin up, and he strained to focus his eyes. It was too dark in the room to make out who it was, but he could see fast lips forming words that he'd yet to understand. He didn't even remember what was happening.

Trying to move his arm, he realized, painfully, that his arms were tied to something behind him. One hurt sharply, the other was asleep, from being in one position too long. He was in a kneeling position - that explained the pain in his knees.

The man dropped his chin to his chest. He couldn't keep his eyes open. He was exhausted, but the buzzing in his ears, the wetness on his body, and the person kneeling in front of him refused to let him drop into a fitful sleep.

Fingers on his face again pushed his chin back up. He didn't open his eyes this time. The hands were very cool against his hot face. There were no coherant thoughts. He didn't know where he was, couldn't remember what happened, and frankly didn't care. The burning pain throughout his body protested the slightest bit of movement as his chest rose and fell with each strained breath.

Through the buzzing he heard, "will die", and he managed a small, triumphant grin. Death was better than suffering through this pain much longer.

The fingers pushed his hair off his forehead.

Suddenly, his arms were released from their hold and fell to his sides, and he howled. A hand pressed over his mouth quickly, stifling the sounds. He still didn't open his eyes, but collapsed onto his side. His legs began burning, blood rushing back to his calves and feet.

Someone grabbed his right arm, and he let out a sudden scream. Hands were pressed over his mouth again, and he heard, "bloody arm shattered".

Without warning, someone picked him up, none too gently. Searing, sharp pain screamed out of every part of his body. He could feel new wetness dripping down his back and sides. Was he bleeding, he wondered vaguely. His body was on fire. The person holding him readjusted their grip on him, holding him tighter, making the pain worse.

Not able to take the pain any longer, Harry Potter passed out.

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It was quite some time before Harry Potter's eyelids flew open. He made his hands into fists, breathing hard, trying to sit up. Only, he couldn't. His vision was blurry - his glasses weren't on - so he couldn't see what held him down, but he assumed it was either a spell, or straps. Like he was crazy.

His mind raced. Where was he? What happened? How did he get to..wherever it was that he got to?

Images flashed through his mind for a moment. Sectumsempra. Being healed, but apparently only enough to not kill him. That sneering, gleeful look in the eyes of -

"Good, you're up," said a voice, a very familiar voice, coming from his right side.

His body was free, and Harry's hands flew to his face, feeling for gashes and scabs. There was nothing out of place however. Something fell onto his thighs, and he reached for it, finding, happily, his glasses. He looked up at the direction the voice came from as he put on his glasses, and his breath caught in his throat.

Remus Lupin smiled tightly down at him. "How are you feeling?"

"I ... I ..." Harry stuttered, unable to know for sure how he was feeling. Sore, sure. But there was something missing from him; a piece had been stolen, taken away.

Sitting on the bed beside Harry, Lupin brushed his hand over his forehead momentarily, his hand slightly shaking.

"Where am I?" Harry managed to blurt out, flinching away from Lupin. He sat upright, looking around the room. He was in a bed, a large bed, with black bedding. There was what appeared to be a large window, with heavy black drapes blocking out the light.

"You are at a member of the Order's house, Harry. You barely made it out alive. What in the world were you thinking, going there alone?" Lupin's voice shook with emotion. Harry couldn't help but pick up on the dodgy answer, but chose to ignore it. It didn't matter.

"I'm fine now," he said, moving to the side of the bed and lowering his feet to the floor. "I don't know how you found me, but -"

"But nothing! You aren't going anywhere, not now!" Lupin stood up, stalking around the bed to push Harry gently on his shoulder, trying to sit him back down on the bed. "You almost died, Harry!"

"Bah," Harry scoffed, glaring up at Lupin from the bed. "What does it matter if I almost died? I would've gotten out of there myself, you know," he said defiantly.

Lupin laughed bitterly. Harry lowered his eyes, noticing tears in the old werewolf's eyes.

"Don't fool yourself for a second, Harry," Lupin said quietly, his voice steady. "If you died because you blindly run into Death Eaters' homes -"

"Ex Death Eaters, " Harry corrected. "I have every right to go into their homes. It's my job, Remus, whether you want to admit to it or not. I don't have to tell you where I'm going, or who I'm dealing with. You can't hold me here against my will. I'm not a child anymore."

"Then stop acting like a bloody child!" Lupin snapped, a barely audible growl in his throat. "What good is defeating Voldemort and living to tell about it if you die -"

"What good is it?" Harry pushed past Lupin and made his way to a door, hoping it was the way to get out. "Who cares if I die tracking these men down? At least I'll have died in the line of duty. Plenty of honorable men have done so. Mad-Eye, for one."

Pushing open the door, Harry was disappointed to find it was just the loo, but made his way in anyway. He turned on the faucet and looked at himself in the mirror. His skin was unmarred on his face, thankfully. But he could see fresh, puffy scars on his neck, trailing beneath his t-shirt. Damn hexes.

He took off his glasses and splashed water onto his face. He rested his forearms on the sink, and lowered his head on top of them, hunched over and breathing in the steam. Lupin walked up to the doorway and he heard him sigh.

"Is that what this is about? Normalcy?" When Harry said nothing - he'd had this conversation with almost everyone since the end of the war - Lupin reached out hesitantly and put his hand on Harry's shoulder. He didn't shove it off; he just kept his head over the sink. "I know that it's been a burden on you since you were eleven years old - being the hero, the one everyone looks to for help. But they don't make you who you are, Harry. You need to decide on your own what you want for your life. Don't risk your life every time a new escaped Death Eater, or law breaker, comes across your desk."

"But I enjoy catching the bad guys. I just don't enjoy this." Harry raised his head and waved around the bathroom. "Being rescued like a child, and taken to some hiding place so no one finds out that the precious Golden Boy has been injured. I hate hiding, Remus. This isn't what my friends want, this isn't what my family wants, and this most certainly isn't what my parents or Sirius would have wanted."

Lupin had nothing to say to this. He remained silent.

"I will not go on vacation. There's nothing I can do anywhere to get away. I will not find a new job. I will not stop what I'm doing."

Harry walked over to the enormous bath tub - whoever's house this was, they had money - and turned on three of the faucets to take a bath. Just as Lupin was about to walk from the room to give Harry privacy, Harry asked again, "whose house is this?"

"Malfoy's," was all Lupin said.

Harry growled and slammed the bathroom door shut, and a moment later his fist made a hole in the wall.

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When Harry was done with his bath, he returned to the now empty bedroom. It was plain. White walls with a four poster bed. There was an armoir on one wall, across from the bed, a free standing mirror beside the bed, and a desk to the right of the door. It was obviously a guest room - and, if he knew the Malfoys, it was meant for the less important guests that would travel through.

On the bed, Harry found a fresh pair of robes. Lupin probably told the house-elf to leave them. They weren't his, but as long as they weren't Malfoy's then it didn't matter much to him. They, too, were plain; only black with red thread.

Once dressed, he found his trainers and pulled them on. He made his way to the bathroom, repaired the damage he'd done to the wall, and double checked the room for anything that may be his. Then he pulled open the door leading into the hallway.

He stood there for a moment, trying to figure out where to go next. The manor was large, and he'd never been anywhere here before. Sighing, he went left until he found a staircase. Paintings lined the wall of glowering family members, obviously knowing who he was. A few spat out bitter words as he passed by, but he waved them off, much to their displeasure.

As he approached the end of the stairs, he heard voices coming from his right. He paused for a moment, and debated whether he should eavesdrop or not. Deciding to not act like a child, he squared his shoulders and approached the room where the voices came, and entered.

A fire was burning to the right, and in the center of the room stood Lupin, Hermione, Ron, and, sitting - rather, lounging like the git he was - was Malfoy. They all looked up when he entered, their conversation halting.

"Don't stop for my sake, " Harry said, his voice hinting the slightest bit of sarcasm. "Thanks, Malfoy, for the - er - " Malfoy didn't move, but raised an eyebrow, his eyes darkening and daring the raven haired man to say something. "Whatever. I'm going back home. Where can I Apparate?"

Hermione started to walk forward, her hand slightly outstretched. "Harry, you should really -"

Harry sighed, and she fell silent. Ron glowered at his friend, not liking at all the way he was treating her.

"I'm fine, Hermione. Unless there's something else wrong with me that I don't know about?" When Malfoy opened his mouth, no doubt to say something caustic, Harry continued on. "I appreciate the concern. Really. But I'm one hundred times better than when I got here, and -"

"You owe me another thanks, Potter," Malfoy interrupted, standing up and walking to a cart stocked with bottles of liquor. He filled up one glass, didn't offer to anyone else, and sat back down. Harry's eyes narrowed.

"I don't owe you anything. I've done enough for you."

There was tense silence in the room. The three Gryffindors looked at one another awkwardly as Malfoy grinned at Harry, who returned the look with a glare.

"Ah." he took a long drink from his glass. "I take it you weren't informed."

It wasn't a question, really, just a mere observation. Harry looked up at Lupin, who muttered something to Malfoy.

"Harry, er, Malfoy's the one who found you," Hermione said quietly, not daring to look at anyone. She kept her eyes on the ground.

Making his hands into fists, Harry fought to keep his anger, and embarrassment, under control. He remembered hands on his face, cool hands, and being forced to try and stay awake. Harry bristled, squaring his shoulders again, and tried his best to keep a stone face as he stared at the blond.

"How?"

"Hmm," Malfoy said thoughtfully, drinking from his glass again. He had that stupid grin on his face still, obviously enthralled with the situation. "I don't suppose I'm on the record, eh Potty? Because I most certainly won't appreciate being tried and sent to Azkaban for fraternizing with the, eh, enemy."

Without another word, Harry spun around and stormed out of the room. He didn't care how he found him, why he saved him, or even who it was who'd been hurting him. Harry was angry at himself for getting in the situation in the first place, and he'd be damned if he thanked Malfoy twice in one day.

Once he stepped outside into the bitter cold, he could feel himself calm down a bit. It had snowed here, and it was quite lovely outside. But he just wanted to go home, to be in his own bed, and to rest until he went back to work tomorrow. His head started to ache, and he quickened his pace to the edge of the property, where a wrought iron gate stood closed.

"Harry, wait!" Ron called, running to catch up with his friend. Harry stopped until Ron came up beside him, then continued to walk. "Look, mate, you really shouldn't leave."

If Ron was telling him to stay here..?

"Is there something that you need to tell me?" Harry grabbed the handle on the gate, and with his other hand he pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Well, we don't really know what happened there," Ron's voice was quiet, questioning indirectly for answers. "And you've been here for nearly a week. We didn't give you anything, you just slept, and we didn't know if you were cursed, or what. You should at least stay for another night, leave tomorrow. Malfoy has connections with St. Mungo's, he can get you the best doctors to look you over."

His head was now pounding painfully. Why were they being so difficult? Never before had he been injured so badly that they all told him to stay put.

"Who fixed up my arm, and whatever else was wrong with me?" Harry asked thickly, trying not to lead on that he was in pain.

Ron's silence was his answer.

"Dammit, Ron," Harry cursed, turning now to look at his friend. "Do you understand that he's not on our side? He will kill me the moment he has the chance, and -"

"He's had plenty of chances, Harry," Ron interrupted. "Look, I don't like the git either. But he did save your life, and he did stop that curse from slashing you to pieces."

"Yeah, and I kept him and his mother out of Azkaban! I testified for them, I made sure that they were treated fairly. I owe nothing to him, we're even. I don't need to stay here, just so he could try to get me back for not helping his father, or whatever other reasons he could come up with."

Nausea rolled over him, and he sank to his knees. He lowered his head into his hands, praying that the migraine would go away before he could convince Ron he was okay to go. Tears pricked his eyes, and he knew that something, indeed, could be wrong.

He didn't know where Ron was, but he knew moments later that Lupin was there as he began retching. The older man and Ron waited until he was done, and grabbed him under his shoulders. Harry couldn't imagine how ridiculous this looked, and he let his head hang, in pain and shame, as they walked back to the manor. He thought, briefly, that he could hear laughter. Damn Malfoy.