Things Fall Apart

You said you hate my suffering,
And you understood,
And you'd take care of me.
You'd always be there,
But where are you now?
-Bright Eyes

-Chapter One-

Secrets

Well, it certainly has been an eventful year...
Harry's unseeing gaze moved back to the ceiling above his smaller-than-average cot at the Dursley's. Surprisingly enough, Dudley had jumped on this bed the afternoon he returned from Kings Cross during one of his frequent tantrums. He was promised another one before the return trip to school but he knew this promise, like so many others, was empty and didn't dwell on it. Thinking of the cramped sleeping conditions made his bones ache. Stretching the offending limbs to ease the stiffness made his bare feet and calves pop out from under the solitary blanket keeping him warm.
"Why is it so fucking cold? It's July!" he whispered to the air, shivered convulsively, and pulled the offending appendages back under the blanket. With his body heat slowly warming back to a reasonable temperature, Harry's mind floated back into its reverie.
If this snippet of time is any indication, the past few weeks of summer holiday haven't been quite as 'eventful' as the past school year was for the Boy-Who-Lived. But he saw this as a welcome change of pace. Even if it did mean more time to mull over the disaster at the ministry. All of the alone time wasn't exactly peaches and cream either. Harry may have long since realized that Sirius was gone and no one could do anything to change that, but he still hated himself for what happened.

He wasn't completely alone though. The order had kept their word, and owled every three days to see how he was doing. Lucky for Harry, it only took him one week of this to discover that he could just write several varied responses in advance, pulling one out of a small box in the loose floorboard under his bed when needed. He wrote things like; Everything here is going okay, tell everyone I said Hi or, I still hate the Dursleys, but they haven't locked me in the cupboard in ages. In all reality, his relatives basically left him alone. Other than the promise for a new bed, and the occasionally grunt from Dudley, they hadn't spoken to him at all so far. Of course, he received the occasional letter from Ron and Hermione too. Those were a lot harder to mass-produce. As it was, he thought he did a damn good job, because their return letters never hinted that they suspected otherwise. Of course, Harry figured that he could have been screaming at the top of his lungs and he wouldn't have been heard through the sexual tension between them. Not that he would have shouted. But still, it's the principle of the thing.

Taking another look around the room, he noticed one of his annual Weasley sweaters was on the floor next to his trunk. After another spasm from the cold, Harry decided to go pull it on and jump back into the cot before the residual heat was gone. However, once he was standing next to the trunk, he noticed the pack of cigarettes he stole from Dudley in the pocket of his wool cloak.
Well, I'm already awake...
Picking up the cigarettes, he put on his sweater, jeans, and the cloak. Then he snuck downstairs and out the back door as quietly as possible.

***
Harry leaned back in the white plastic lawn chair to stare at the stars in envy. He took a half-hearted drag from the cigarette in his hand and silently cursed the stars for being so indestructible. Leaning back even further, he propped the chair on two legs and rested his feet on the small out-door coffee table.
BANG!
The noise startled him, and the chair fell backward into the pavement. Taking no time to assess the situation, he rolled over and pulled his wand out of his front pocket. He sat up in a crouching position and looked around for the source of the disturbance.
Bugger! I hope no one heard that, he thought, and listened closely to see if it would happen again. After staying perfectly still for what seemed like a silent eternity, he decided that whatever it was had left and that he should go back to sleep. But, just as he his hand on the sliding door, he heard a soft, nondescript noise and a rustle in the bushes.
Upon inspection, he discovered a very small owl lying in a crumpled heap underneath a bush. What he didn't realize, until he picked it up, was that it was Ron's owl, Pigwidgeon ('Pig' for short). In her beak was a crumpled letter that was twice as large as her body.
Oh, so that's what the noise was. He tucked her into his arm and looked up at the closed window of his bedroom, stifling a laugh. Pig must have flown right into the window. He stroked her feathers and gave her a quick look-over to make sure she wasn't seriously injured. He made his way back into the house.
"That'll teach you to fly carelessly, won't it?" he said laughing and continued stroking her feathers in an effort to keep her quiet inside the house.
Once inside his room, he put Pig in Hedwig's cage to rest. If she had been awake, Hedwig would have felt very affronted by this gesture. Luckily, that wasn't the case, as she was asleep.
Harry sat down on the cot without taking off his cloak, because it was still ridiculously cold. Looking at the envelope, he realized that if Ron or one of the other Weasley's wrote this, they must have been in a hurry, because it was not addressed to anyone. It was just a blank envelope. If Harry had been honest with himself, he would have realized that it didn't even feel like there was a letter in the envelope. And he would have been right too.
When he opened he envelope and turned it upside-down, a small Knut fell out of it and into his hand. Almost immediately he felt an unpleasant tugging sensation in his stomach.

Holy shit, it's a port-key.

***

Harry landed face down on a hard surface that he was certain was made of wood. There was no light to aid him and any sounds he could hear were dampened and far away. It made him think of being encased in a jar. Then, of course, he realized that his cloak had fallen over his head and was deadening all senses.

Oh man, the Aurors will have a field day with this one...
He stood up and flipped his wool cloak back over to the proper side of his body. It was still pitch black, but he could make out the shuffling of many feet. His hand flew to his scar from reflex. The strange thing was that it didn't tingle. Not even the slightest bit.
In fact, Harry thought, it hurts less now than it has all summer. Well, this must not have anything to do with Voldemort then.
The made him feel a little bit better, but not completely. After all, that horrible Umbridge woman was never in a league with Voldemort. He pushed his glasses up his nose and was about to start slinging hexes, when he heard someone.
"Ow! Get off my foot!"
"Oh... Sorry."
Now he was confused. That sounded like Ron and George. He decided to test that theory, even if it was a little bit dangerous.
"Umm...Ron?" he ventured quietly.
"Bloody hell, it's Harry!" was the answer he first received from Ron.
"Surprise?!" was the second.
However, the lights were still off.
"Alright, who was supposed to get the lights?" he heard Mrs. Weasley call.
"Sorry Mum." Fred and George called simultaneously, and the lights flashed on, revealing the Weasley's living room, packed with every witch of wizard he'd ever met. Just as his mouth dropped open, the room full of people voiced exactly what was feeling.
"SURPRISE! Happy birthday!" and soon he was flooded with hugs and well wishes.

***

Hermione jabbed Draco in the side.
"Did I just hear you yell surprise?" she asked him in mock astonishment, throwing her hand up to cover her mouth dramatically.
"Go get stuffed," he replied tonelessly.
"What? I was just teasing you." She sounded hurt.
"I know. I'm just a little tense..."
"You? Draco Malfoy?! Tense?! Never in all my years have I..." Draco rolled his eyes and they both laughed.
"Come on. It's going to be a long night. I want to go see if Fred or George has spiked the pumpkin juice yet." She laughed as he pulled her toward the 'beverage table' in the kitchen.
I can't believe this is the same bastard that use to torment us. Hermione thought. The person that came to my door this summer is completely different than what he was before...

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Dr. Caroline Granger tiptoed up to her daughters room on the second floor.
"Minne," there were two knocks, "are you up?"

Hermione mumbled inaudibly.

"What was that dear?"
"No mum! Its the summer and its only... She glanced at the clock next to her bed. "IT'S ONLY 6:30! Why do insist on waking me up so early?" Caroline laughed. She loved waking her daughter up so early. It gave everyone a much-needed laugh.
"Well, you might want to get up. Your father and I are leaving for the office in a few minutes."
"Wait, isn't it Sunday? Why are you working?"
"Oh, well we hired a new secretary, and we have to show her around. We'll be back by one!" she called out while climbing back down the stairs. Hermione waited until she heard the car door slam before she rolled over and went back to sleep.
When Hermione woke up again two hours later, it was to another knocking sound.
KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK.
Hermione jumped out of bad and threw on her cotton robe.
KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK.
"All right, all right! I'm coming!" she said irritably as she ran down the stairs, tying up her robe at the same time. She flung open the door.
"How can I-" she probably could have finished that sentence, but Draco Malfoy coughed up some blood on her robe, and passed out on top of her.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

She had to physically shake her head to pull herself out of the flashback. Draco was still dragging her toward the kitchen.

***
Harry walked over to where Ron was sitting in the kitchen.
"So, is someone going to tell me what the hell ferret boy is doing here? At the burrow? With Hermione?!" He had seen them laughing together amidst the large crowd and Harry was doing the best he could to refrain from finding Malfoy and punching his aristocratic face until it was unrecognizable. Before Ron could answer, the boy in question sauntered in next to Harry, with Hermione at his side.
"The burrow? Aww, isn't that cute." He turned to Hermione, " You didn't tell me that's what it was called. Perfect for a bunch of weasels if you ask me." Hermione gave him a 'please play nice' look and he sneered.

But was it a sneer? Harry wondered. That almost looked like a smile to me...
"Well, no one asked you." Ron retorted, standing up from his chair and doing his best to look intimidating. Of course, that didn't really work, because as he was walking toward Malfoy, he tripped on his own over-sized feet and fell flat on his face.
"You know what Weasley?" Draco asked, keeping his face impassive, "You should really be more mindful of your footing when trying to impress a lady." That said, Malfoy winked and offered his hand to Ron, who was gaping back at him.
Harry's jaw dropped and Hermione's face went scarlet.

Was Draco Malfoy just...NICE to Ron? He looked back at Malfoy, who was still holding out his hand for Ron. Being the stubborn git he is, Ron refused the helping hand and chose to get up on his own, just in time for Mrs. Weasley to ring the bell for dinner.

This is crazy.

***

Harry and Ron walked outside toward the huge lawn table, just a few paces ahead of Hermione and Draco.
"What the hell does she see in him?" Ron asked while trying to look back at Draco and Hermione, unnoticed, and failing miserably.
"Honestly, Ron?" Ron's head whipped back to stare intently at Harry, willing him to have all the answers.
"Yeah, honestly."
"Well..." Harry's head turned slightly to catch a glimpse of Malfoy in the moonlight. His slivery hair was cut shorter than it was the pervious year, but still longer than most. Although his face was basically the same, the rest of him had filled out considerably. He was no longer frail and feminine. Even under plain, loose fitting black robe, the muscles on his chest and arm were easy to depict. Malfoy looked... Good.
"Well what?"
"Well..." Harry looked back again. "I have no idea what she sees in him!" he lied.
"Maybe he hexed her or something, you know? Or a love potion! Yeah, that's it, that evil git..." Ron prattled off, but Harry wasn't listening.
But Malfoy really hasn't been mean. To me or Ron or Hermione. Something about him is different.
His thoughts were interrupted by Dumbledore, whom Harry literally walked into. They both fell over.
"Oh! Professor Dumbledore! I'm so sorry, I didn't see you standing there."
"That's because I wasn't, Harry. Minerva and I just apparated in."
"Oh. Well, have a good evening then Headmaster, Professor McGonagall." Harry nodded to them both and started to walk away. Dumbledore put a hand on his shoulder.
"Wait just a second. I wish to speak to you, Mister Weasley and Miss Granger," he looked over Harry's shoulder. "Oh, and Mister Malfoy also."
McGonagall looked around the area nervously, rubbing her hands together.
"Well... I umm... Best be off," she looked over Ron's shoulder and quickly retreated to the elongated lawn table just as Hermione walked up to Ron's left side, and Draco appeared at Harry's right.
"Well, since you're all here, I can tell you now."
"What is it sir?" Hermione questioned.
"I trust everyone here has noticed that they have not yet received their school letters for the summer?" The four nodded skeptically. "There has been an accident with the O.W.L.s."
"WHAT? That's horrible! Were still going to get our scores right?" Hermione practically yelled and Ron rolled his eyes.
"Yes, but not until the beginning of the school year. Everyone will meet with their respective head's of house to discuss their scores and schedules. Just between us..." Dumbledore leaned down to be closer to them. "There was a 'problem' with the scoring, and they all had to be redone."
"Someone was bribed, weren't they Professor?" Hermione wondered aloud.
"You have always been very intuitive Hermione." Dumbledore replied with a wink before striding off toward the table.

***

"Could someone pass the butter?" Harry asked loudly amidst the torrent of voices.
"Sure Harry," Bill replied from across the table. "Here you are then."

As Harry reached out to procure the butter, the sleeve of his green Weasley sweater inched it's way up his left arm, not stopping until it reached the elbow.
"Oh my..." Hermione gasped audibly and stared at his underarm, wide-eyed. Realizing that she must have inhaled quite loudly, and everyone around her was staring, including Harry but his was more like a leer, she blushed a deep shade of crimson.
"Are you alright Hermione?" Ron questioned.
"I felt something against my leg." She recovered quickly, "It must have been Crookshanks." She smiled weakly back at Ron, who immediately turned his attention back to Harry. He however, stared for a few seconds longer before allowing himself to turn back to Ron, his hands in his lap with the sleeves pulled safely past his wrists.
Hermione turned to Draco, who was sitting at her right. Her own pale face and wide eyes were, surprisingly, reflected in him. They both sat in knowing silence for a few seconds until the need to hear a reassuring voice overrode the awkwardness.
"You saw it then too?" she began sheepishly, taking care to stay quiet enough not to be overheard.
"Saw what?"

The initial shock must have waned, she observed, because he's regaining composure. Seeing the stern look on Hermione's face, he continued.
"Oh! You mean those huge gashes on his forearm? It's kind of hard to miss something that big and red." He paused and looked thoughtful for a moment, "Good grief, he even bleeds Gryffindor."
"Come on Draco, this is serious!" she implored. "I'm really worried. He seemed happy just seconds ago." She looked over at Harry, who was laughing with Ron and Fred about something, and then back to Draco.

"He still seems happy, other than looking a little thinner than normal." she paused, "But the Dursley's never really feed him anyway." she added quickly. "How can he just act like nothing's wrong? What isn't he telling us?"
"Everyone has reasons for keeping certain things to themselves," Draco replied with a meaningful look. "Personally," he continued but Hermione wasn't really listening, "I'm surprised to find his emotions under his sleeve, rather than on it." At that moment it dawned on her.
"I've got it!" she exclaimed.
"What?"
"You can talk to him!" He looked at her as if she had grown a new head.
"Wha-WHAT? Oh no, Miss Granger! You are NOT pulling me into this. I hate Potter, remember? He's a stuck-up, selfish brat with too much money, and I..." She took his hands, which were currently clenched into fists at his sides, into her own, and looked directly into his eyes. Trying not to cry, she spoke.
"Please Draco? You are the only one I know who would under-..."
"Oh come on Hermione. Do you honestly think he would tell me anything he wouldn't tell you? And don't give me that look, I know you care about your friend, but I'm am not going to do it." He sighed and stood up, but leaned over so he was close to her ear. "If you send me to his rescue, and don't even try yourself, he'll hate you forever. You try and talk to him. If he doesn't give you the time of day, then I'll see what I can do, alright?" he backed away from her ear, stopping briefly to place a chaste kiss on her forehead, before straightening up completely. She looked up at him with a sad smile.
"Will I see you at home?" He was looking over her head when he spoke, so it was hard for Hermione to understand over the many background voices.
"Umm... Yeah. I'll be around in a few minutes."
"Okay. Are you sure you'll be fine? Do you want me to stay?" he asked turning back to face her, looking down with concern.
"I'll be fine." She replied absentmindedly and waved a hand to shoo him away. Draco turned to walk away, but stopped.
"Oh, and Hermione?"
"Mm, hmm?" He leaned down close to her again.
"Take care of him. If not for him or even yourself, do it for the rest of us. We need him more that you realize." And with that he strode away from the dinner table into darkness and toward the burrow.

***

Oh shit shit shit.....

Harry's palms were sweaty and he was only half listening to Ron babble on and on about something that happened a week ago..
"...So then Pig smashed headfirst into the door, it was the funniest thing I've ever seen!" Ron finished his uninteresting story and he and Fred broke into peals of laughter. All Harry could manage was a weak, nervous chuckle, but it went wholly unnoticed. Hermione, of course, being the exception.

Oh well, this stupid party will be over soon and I can... Then he thought of something.

"Umm...Ron?"
"Yeah?" he managed to articulate. This of course is a difficult feat to accomplish when you have a mouth full of treacle fudge.
"How am I going to get back to the Dursleys?"
"You mean Mum didn't tell you?" Harry shook his head.

If she did why the hell would I be asking?

"You're staying with us for the rest of the summer, isn't that brilliant?!"
"But what about..." Harry stopped. For some reason, he really didn't want to tell Ron about the prophecy just yet. "Umm...I mean, did Dumbledore say it was alright?" he ventured.
"Yeah, it was his idea."
"Well then, how am I supposed to get my trunk? And Hedwig's cage?"
"Dumbledore and McGonagall picked them up for you. That's why they were late."

Oh, I see, Harry replied and returned to his thoroughly mashed birthday cake without even trying to look excited. Not that he wasn't looking forward to being away from his 'family', but the solitude had its good points. Especially now that Hermione had noticed his arm. But he knew she wouldn't say anything. Not, at least, until school starts and she can get him alone. He turned back to Ron and started to get up.
"So I'm staying in your room then?"
"Uh, yeah mate, but don't you want to..."

SHUT UP AND LET ME LEAVE!
"No, I'm just really tired." Harry replied with careful control. Ron attempted to protest again so Harry had to once again assure him it was only fatigue. Then had to promise him a ride on his firebolt the next afternoon, before Ron finally let Harry leave.
Of course, maybe if he hadn't been so annoyed with Ron at the time, Harry would have noticed the blonde Slytherin leave the table only twelve steps behind him.

***