Sanctuary

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

~*~*~*~*~

Draco Malfoy was a traitor.

And to Lucius Malfoy, his son--his heir--was dead. No offspring of his would dare go against everything he himself had worked so hard to accomplish.

Since the day Draco had been born, Lucius knew that his heir would take on the family business. Draco would be respected by all Purebloods and feared by all Mudbloods. His son would not, by Merlin, be like those ridiculous Muggle-loving Weasley's. Over his dead body, would Lucius allow Draco to associate with such disgrace to the name of wizard.

And when Draco grew older, he would take his rightful place in the Dark Lord's Inner Circle. How proud Lucius would be the day his son's pale arm showcased the powerful mark.

But nothing went according to Lucius' plan.

To think that Draco would refuse to take the Dark Mark. To think that Draco would threaten his own father--his own flesh and blood--with going to Dumbledore and telling him all about Lucius' plans...it was preposterous! He had given Draco everything a young pureblood could possibly want--money, pureblood women, social status, power,

outstanding education--what more could the boy want? Ungrateful, that's what he was.

But Lucius would give Draco time to come to his senses. Yes; when his son realized he was nothing--nothing--without his father, he'll come crawling on his knees, begging for forgiveness.

And when the boy did, Lucius would be free once more.

Azkaban was no place for a Malfoy.

~*~*~*~*~

When Nymphadora Tonks had been given the assignment, she'd thought the Head of the Auror Department had gone mad.

Relocating Draco Malfoy to one of the Safe Houses?

Why would anyone want to protect him? He'd played a big part in getting Hermione Granger kidnapped, hadn't he? At least that's what all the papers said. Tonks didn't understand why even several member of the Order were intent on keeping the kid safe. Brat didn't deserve to be protected, if you asked her.

Now she was waiting in one of Malfoy Manor's many sitting rooms for her cousin to finish gathering some of his things into a single trunk. When he came down the grand stairway, Tonks gave him a glare.

Okay, so the kid didn't look all haughty and pampered. Tonks scowled. Actually, he looked rather awful. He was paler than usual--which was saying something, and had dark circles under his eyes. His robes were baggy on him, and Tonks wagered he hadn't had a decent meal in a while. His hair looked dull and dry, not anything like the shiny blond locks he used to pride himself in.

It's the guilt that's eating him, Tonks decided, glaring at him again.

"Well, come on, then; I don't have all day," she told him. When Draco turned his gaze on her, she shivered. No seventeen-year-old should have that kind of look on him. That haunted gaze should be reserved for Azkaban inmates.

"Sorry," he muttered. He lifted his trunk again and walked out the door.

Draco Malfoy saying sorry? Tonks sighed. Life had seemed so much simpler during the War.

With that thought in her head, Tonks strode to the door, tripped on the antique Persian rug, and closed the door behind her.

~*~*~*~*~

"He's coming here?!"

Molly Weasley sighed. It was situations like this when she wished that she and Arthur hadn't raised six boys with such tempers. It was also times like these when Molly missed Ginny desperately--her little girl had always been able to pacify any of her brothers' tempers.

Molly shook her head, as if to stop herself from thinking about it; she had no time for grief. She had eight men to feed in the next hour, and now she had to deal with her two youngest--for she considered Harry her honorary son--throwing temper tantrums.

Molly sighed again. It wasn't easy being a woman in a house full of men. "Yes, Ron, he's coming here."

Ron cursed, then cringed when his mother glared at him. "But why?" He looked at Harry for support. "He's evil, Mum. He'll probably try to kill us all in our sleep."

"Don't be ridiculous, Ron." Molly put her hands on her hips. "The poor boy has nowhere to go."

"Poor boy?" Ron turned incredulously toward Harry. "Are listening to this?"

"Mrs. Weasley," said Harry. "Maybe bringing Malfoy to the Burrow isn't such a good idea."

Harry knew why Mrs. Weasley wasn't as hostile as the rest of them toward Malfoy. In a completely unexpected act of kindness, when Ginny had been killed, Malfoy had brought back her body to her parents before any of the Deatheaters could cause more damage. Mrs. Weasley had solemnly thanked Malfoy and had given him a hug. Harry reckoned he'd never forget the look on Malfoy's face when she did that; probably something close to what his own face had looked like when Hermione had given him his first hug back in their First Year.

But that didn't stop Harry from distrusting the blond boy.

"Good idea or not, Draco Malfoy is going to be staying here. And that's final!"

At her tone of voice, the two wizards thought it wise to leave the situation as it was for the time being. Molly Weasley was no one to be reckoned with when angered.

As she watched the two boys go, Molly smiled. Well, she thought smugly, perhaps it's not that horrible being the only woman around.

~*~*~*~*~

The dining room at the Burrow had always been a place where emotions were blatantly expressed and displayed. Joy, anger, sadness, grief, confusion, jealousy, amusement...the list when on forever.

For Draco Malfoy--who had been accustomed to frigid, polite, and formal dinners--it was absolute madness the way the Weasley twins argued over the last drumstick, or how Mrs. Weasley laughed so heartily over something her husband murmured in her ear.

"Frightening the first time, isn't it?" Draco looked to his right and into his former professor's tired eyes. Remus gave Draco a wry grin. "The Weasley's," he said, referring to Molly and Arthur, "built their family around the belief that emotions and feelings were not meant to be bottled up."

Draco looked all around the table. "The only things these people bottle up are potions."

The fact that it was said in such a dry tone made Remus laugh before continuing eating his dinner.

Draco was about to put more butter on his mash when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked up and met Mrs. Weasley's concerned look.

"Everything alright?"

Draco thought he'd been hiding his uneasiness considerably well. Apparently he hadn't. "Yes, ma'am."

Mrs. Weasley nodded twice and turned to go into the kitchen.

"So," began Fred, "Malfoy, what's it feel like to be a traitor?" The room fell silent and all gazes turned to the blond, who was turning redder by the second.

It was Remus who ended the silence. "That really isn't necessary, Fred." The redhead only raised a single brow in response.

"Actually, Professor," added Ron, who still hadn't gotten used to calling Remus by his name, "I think it's perfectly necessary. Malfoy's living here now; if he doesn't like being asked simple questions, there's nothing here to stop him from leaving."

"You're right." Ron gave him a withering glare, and it almost gave Draco the desire to smirk at him, like he did before the War. "There's nothing here to keep me from leaving."

"Then what are you waiting for?!" exploded Ron. "No one wants you here--you don't want to be here..."

"What's all the shouting about?" Mrs. Weasley asked as she came out of the kitchen with a pitcher of pumpkin juice in her hands.

Ron shot out of his chair and pointed his finger across the table, where Draco was seated. "Him! That's what all the bloody shouting's about."

"Ronald!" Mr. Weasley rarely raised his voice to reprimand (that was Molly's job). He tolerated a lot of things from his sons, but disrespecting the woman who gave them life was not one of them. "You will mind your tongue, boy, when you speak to your mother."

Ron merely sent Malfoy one last glare before storming out of the room.

Harry, who had been silently watching Ron go off, thanked Mrs. Weasley for a wonderful meal, and spared Malfoy a glance before following his best friend out of the room.

~*~*~*~*~

When Ron was pissed off, Harry mused, it was always best to let him work off all that extra energy that always came after the redhead flew into a rage.

"Why is Mum defending the wanker?"

Harry sighed much like Ron had done when they had come back from visiting Hermione.

"You know why."

It was funny how those three words worked like a needle puncturing a balloon. Ron deflated immediately, his anger vanishing at the thought of his baby sister. "I have enough to worry about without the ferret giving more shite to deal with."

Harry nodded in agreement. "But that's why I've decided to ignore Malfoy. I need to focus on getting Hermione better. Which," he added, giving Ron a look, "is exactly what you should be doing."

"I know what I should be doing," Ron snapped. "But it's practically impossible to ignore that albino rat. I've tried."

"Then try harder. Hermione needs us now more than ever." Harry plopped down on his cot. "We need to find a way to make her feel again."

"Do you really think it's possible?" The glare that Harry gave him made him sink down to his mattress. "I mean, all the Healers said--"

"I don't give a good damn about what the Healers said." He stood up and stalked to the window, giving Ron his back. "I refuse to believe that my best friend is destined to live her life without feeling. Do you understand," he asked Ron, "I mean, really understand what she's going through? What she's going to go through?"

All Ron did was shake his head.

"She's never going to get pissed off at us for not doing some mundane chore; she's not going to be proud of us when we tell her we got jobs; she's not going to cry when we buy her a new kitten to fill in Crookshanks' place in her life; she's never going to laugh at one of our stupid jokes; she's never going to get that tender look in her eyes that means she feels slightly sorry for you; she's never going to feel the need to comfort someone--anyone--with a hug or kiss or anything; she's not going to fall in love and get married." He turned back and looked at Ron. "She's never going to be Hermione again."

Ron left his seat on his bed to stand directly in front of Harry. "Unless we do something about it."

Harry nodded and started to leave the room when Ron said, "You know, all that stuff you said...I don't think I could live my life without her doing all those things."

Harry gave him a humorless chuckle. "Neither could I."

~*~*~*~*~

It wasn't uncommon for Harry to not sleep through the night. But tonight, Harry felt especially restless. He couldn't shake off the feeling that he forgot to do something important. Deciding it wasn't likely for him to fall back asleep, he shrugged on his dressing gown and put his slippers on before heading out of Ron's room.

As he was going down the stairs, he noticed that the fireplace in the living room was burning. Caught between not wanting to talk to anybody and wanting to know who was up so late in the night, Harry decided to go with the former. At the foot of the stairs, he turned toward the kitchen to see if he could warm a glass of milk, but stopped short when he came face-to-face with Malfoy.

Harry's stomach churned dangerously when he saw the blood seeping through the blonde's hand that was covering a rather large crimson spot on his belly.