No Man's Land

No one knows the hell he has been through--they choose to ignore him as they come and go about Grimmauld Place doing business for the Order. Not many of them even acknowledge his presence here at all. He doesn't blame them, though; he would hate himself too had the events been reversed. Besides, he doesn't say much these days anyway.

Draco Malfoy sits by the window in the old house's large study, a book cracked open in his lap, staring out at the once grand street as he waits for them to return from some fool's errand. He can't help his anxiety, the sense that something isn't quite right, that gnaws him. Word of another Death Eater attack in the Kent and Harry rushes off like a gallant knight to face Merlin knows what....

"Draco, dear," Molly Weasley says from behind him and Draco starts from his reverie. "Would like some lunch?"

His grey eyes seem to see straight through her as he turns to stare at her. After a long moment, he nods and clambers to his feet. She smiles sympathetically at him and follows him out of the room, her worn heels clicking on the ancient hardwood floor. They don't speak as they enter the kitchen, and as Draco limps to the waiting plate at his customary place at the table, Molly hums a song the wireless has been playing endlessly. He pretends to ignore the woman as she pours them both a cuppa and sits across from him, slowly sipping her tea. He doesn't like the way she keeps staring at him with pitying eyes.

Draco slowly eats his turkey sandwich and tasteless crisps in silence and once done summons the bottle of Ogden's Old from the cabinet. He pours a shot into his tea and offers the bottle to his unwanted companion. Molly shakes her head and he shrugs, pouring more into his cup. He stretches out his injured leg, a souvenir from a life he'd rather forget, and regards the matronly woman across from him.

She opens her mouth to ask Draco something, but the Floo flares to life and everything is forgotten in the commotion that ensues. As various Order members tumble through the fireplace, Draco watches, his heart pounding inside his chest. He stares at Remus Lupin as the man says something about a few members injured and helps Ginny Weasley into the nearest chair. Draco watches as the werewolf heals the cut on the redhead's leg, ignoring the blood soaking through his own sleeve.

Looking away, Draco surveys the sudden crowd, less in number since they had left, and feels as if the very breath has been stolen from his chest when he doesn't see Harry. Remus catches his eye from across the room and looks away too suddenly as Molly starts to fuss over his injured arm. Draco's panic turns to horror, suddenly hating the werewolf for a reason he can't quite place and wishes he was anywhere but the godforsaken kitchen that seems an unexpected prison.

The tension in the room weighs down oppressively and a tense silence falls over the room as he cautiously stands and clears his throat. He tries not to blush when they all turn to look at him. Quietly, though it sounds a shout in the too quiet room, he says, "Where's Harry?"

Their furtive glances don't escape his notice.

Terror and bile rises in his throat and he feels as though his knees will give out as he looks between the werewolf and the youngest Weasley, hoping against hope his terror is unfounded. He catches Remus' amber eyes and repeats his question.

The werewolf frown and starts to answer but the words die on his lips as the Floo flares and a gangly black-haired boy tumbles through, green eyes wild behind dirty and cracked glasses.

"Took you long enough to get back, didn't it?" Draco says, voice cracking despite himself.

He watches as someone whose name he hasn't bothered to learn helps Harry to his feet. He can't stop the small smile that spreads across his face as Harry, covered in soot and dirt and dried sweat, crosses the room and kisses him. For a moment, he forgets the crowded kitchen, doesn't hear the surprised gasps, doesn't notice the venomous look Ginny shoots him, doesn't see Remus look at the floor and swallow hard.

"Don't you ever scare me like that again, Potter!" he says when Harry pulls back. Draco swats playfully at him. "I thought you were dead. Or worse...."

"The important thing is," Harry leans in to whisper, causing the blond to shiver, "that I'm here now and that I don't plan on getting myself killed anytime soon. Besides, death can't stop love."

Sighing, Draco lays his head on Harry's shoulder and lets the man wrap his arms around him, hoping Harry knows what he still can't say.