Picking up the Pieces

Harry unlocked the door to the Dursley's house, thinking vaguely that he should be showing some delight in the prospect of getting out of here, but pretending he was excited really wasn't worth the effort right now. Knowing Remus was right behind him, he led the way to the kitchen and quickly put away the groceries.

"All my things are in there," he told Remus, indicating the cupboard under the stairs. Uncle Vernon had installed a padlock on the outside of the door to prevent Harry from trying to retrieve any of his things. "Since I can't do magic, you'll have to open it. I'll run upstairs and get Hedwig's cage, it's the only thing I have up there other than a few bits of parchment and some letters." Without waiting for an answer, he ran up the stairs and grabbed what he needed. He had just sent Hedwig out yesterday morning so she was already at Grimmauld Place. He stuffed the empty owl cage with the letters that had been on his desk, both the ones from the Order that had been replied to and the unopened ones from his friends, stripped the sheets from his bed and tossed them down the laundry chute, deciding he would risk facing the wrath of his aunt and uncle next time he saw them, and then picked up the mirror. "Well, Sirius," he said softly, staring at his own broken reflection, "guess I don't have a choice but to go back, huh?" He slid the mirror into the front pocket of his jeans and headed back down to meet Remus, who had retrieved Harry's trunk from the cupboard and was standing near the front door.

"I left a note for your aunt and uncle, Harry," Remus told him. "Would you like to add something to it? It's on the table."

Harry shook his head. He had nothing to say to them. "No. Let's just go."

They returned to Mrs. Figg's house, where Karissa was still in the kitchen with Mrs. Figg. She had obviously been crying. She looked up at Harry and Remus when they entered the kitchen. "Where's Draco?" she asked, using her spoon to swirl circles in her almost-empty cup of tea. Harry could see that Mrs. Figg had tried to get Karissa to eat but it looked like it hadn't worked.

"He's gone on ahead with Professor Dumbledore, the headmaster," Remus answered. Harry had forgotten that Remus was the one who had gone to meet with Karissa and her family yesterday. "I assume you will see him later. For now, however, you and Harry are to come with me."

"Oh, Harry, do you want something to eat before you go? You're still so thin!" Mrs. Figg asked, standing up and heading for the fridge.

"Um, no thank you, Mrs. Figg. I ate a large breakfast," he lied. And was relieved when she didn't call him on it in front of the others, although she shook her head to let him know she didn't believe him. "Oh well, then, I'll walk you to the Floo. Please be careful this year, Harry, dear." She was started to sound more like Mrs. Weasley than the old woman who used to watch Harry.

Remus indicated that Harry should go first with his trunk, then he and Karissa followed together. Once inside Grimmauld Place, they could hear a disturbance from upstairs. Amidst the thuds of objects hitting the wall and the sound of other things shattering, Harry heard a loud voice that unmistakably belonged to one highly upset Draco Malfoy. He could not make out any words, but could tell Malfoy was obviously throwing a fit that would have put Dudley to shame. Remus sighed as he rolled his eyes towards the ceiling, and noticed that Karissa was looking nauseous, probably due to a combination of the events of the past 24 hours and her first travel by Floo powder on top of hearing the commotion upstairs. "I'm going to show Karissa to her room, the one Ginny and Hermione had last summer, and I'll be back down to talk to you."

"I'd rather just lie down for a while, Prof--Remus," Harry answered, forcing a yawn. "I think I can find my room, you know."

"Harry, there's a couple things you have to know. First, I've been staying here this summer, in case you didn't know. I can assure you that the only two bedrooms that are currently habitable, other than the one I'm staying in, are the one I'm about to put Karissa in and the one you and Ron shared last summer. If Dumbledore is planning on what I think he is, you will have to share with Mr. Malfoy. At least until we can get one of the other rooms cleaned. But I have yet to try and tackle the disaster left behind by the twins last summer, and that makes two of the bedrooms on the top floor unusable right now. Second, I don't know if anyone bothered to tell you this, but the house is yours now. Along with Sirius' vault. And third, Kreacher...died earlier this summer. I thought you might feel safer knowing he's not here."

Harry nodded, letting the words sink in, wondering how Remus could just skim over the fact that Sirius had left the house to him, and then started up the stairs, dragging his trunk behind him. Remus stopped him. "Harry, it's okay to do a little magic here. It won't hurt anything to levitate your trunk up the stairs." Harry looked at him for a second before continuing up the stairs. He didn't bother to tell Remus that his wand was inside his trunk. Besides, he knew he had to believe in the spell he was casting to make it work, and he wasn't quite sure he believed in magic enough anymore to make even the simplest spell work.

***** ***** ***** ***** *****

Draco had detailed the previous night's events for Professor Dumbledore in a rush. He had stumbled over the words at first, but as he got into the story he just wanted to skip to the end and let it be over. It was hard enough to live through the first time. Dumbledore kept asking him to slow down and repeat certain things, but never actually commented on anything Draco said. When Draco finished, Dumbledore studied him silently for several long minutes.

"And what do you want now, Mr. Malfoy?"

"I know that I do not want to go back to my father, or take the Dark Mark," he replied, hesitantly. "I want to go back to Hogwarts. I'll do whatever I have to. I have no where else to go otherwise."

"What about Harry? Will you do your best to protect Harry, even if it means fighting against your father and Voldemort?"

"Yes." In a roundabout way, Draco knew he owed Harry. He had helped him this morning, despite his misgivings, when Draco was sure he was going to be found and killed by his father before he had the chance to get Karissa to safety.

"Well, then we will do our best to help you. For now, you will stay here. I have to speak to some others and make some decisions. But first I have something to discuss with you." He leaned closer to Draco, making sure they were on eye-level. "Why did you save Karissa?"

Draco thought about the question for a minute. "How could I not? She's so young. She doesn't deserve to suffer because of something she has no control over."

"You did not feel a connection to her?"

"Why? Is there a connection?" Draco asked, confused.

"Mr. Malfoy, after Voldemort was defeated the first time, there was some covert Death Eater activity that the Ministry had not completely stopped. Not large gatherings like Voldemort calls. Usually a small group, three or four men. They would attack mudbloods most often, but sometimes they would go after Muggles. One evening, they attacked a party of teenagers, not much older than yourself, because one of the girls had been dating a wizard. Several of the girls were raped. Luckily, the Aurors broke up the attack before anyone died and obliviated the memories of those involved. However, one of the girls ended up having a child as a result of that night. I have no idea what she told her parents, or anyone else for that matter. We did not find out about it until after the child was a toddler. By that time, her mother was suffering from the end stages of cancer, a Muggle disease. The girl was raised by her aunt and uncle. The three of them only found out yesterday that she is a witch."

"Karissa?"

"Yes."

Draco swallowed hard. "Who is her father?" He did not really want to hear Dumbledore reply, dreading the answer, but he had to ask, had to know.

"Mr. Malfoy," Dumbledore's voice was softer and slower than usual, as if he was filled with the same reluctance to speak the answer. He cleared his throat before starting again. "Draco. Karissa is your half-sister."

The silence in the room was palpable. Draco did not move, did not even breathe, for so long that Dumbledore was almost worried. Then Draco jumped up with a gasp. He grabbed a book off the table beside the chair and hurled it across the room, putting all his pent up anger into the effort. It bounced off the far wall with a resounding BANG! Draco found he liked the sound. He picked up the next closet thing, a drinking glass that someone had apparently forgot to remove. It made an even better sound. Luckily, there were several objects lying around the room that were perfect for throwing and Dumbledore was making no move to stop Draco. "You mean to tell me that my perfect--" CRASH! "pureblood father raped a Muggle--" THUD! "and that Karissa is the result of that?" Draco paused for a moment, looking at the heavy paperweight now in his hands as if deciding where to throw it. He aimed for the glass-fronted cabinet across the room as his next thought hit him. "He raped a Muggle and last night he wanted me to rape my sister!" The sound of the glass shattering was both satisfying and not. Draco continued his rant, direct at his father, at the Dark Lord, at himself, at Dumbledore. He paid no heed to the tears falling freely from his eyes. His entire world had fallen apart. How could he even know who he was now, when everything he had believed turned out to be a lie? His father, who he held in the highest regard, who he had done everything to please, was not only a sadistic bastard, he was sick. He may not have known he had a daughter, actually he probably hadn't known because he would have had her killed rather than allow the blemish on his name to become public knowledge, but Draco could not help but think of the callous treatment Lucius had shown toward Karissa, who was nothing more than a child. Draco was used to Lucius and his cruel ways, but would Lucius have stood by and allowed the Dark Lord his Death Eaters to hurt Draco? It was one thing to face his father's fury, but the child in him still believed that, despite all the beatings and all the poor treatment he had received from his father that Lucius actually loved him.

Draco did not know how long his tirade lasted, but when he finally came to a standstill in the middle of the room, his chest pained and heaving, he was surrounded by utter chaos. Slivers of glass, bits of parchment, even feathers from a pillow that he had demolished floated around the room close to the floor.

Dumbledore looked at him mildly. "Are you quite done?"

Draco could not find the breath to answer, so he merely nodded.

"Good." With a flick of his wrist, Dumbledore righted the chaos in the room. "I'll show you to your room. You'll have to share with Harry, and I expect you to be nice. I'm sure Harry will be able to help you if you need anything, but Remus is here in the house also. I will be back in the morning."

Draco tried to wipe the tear-streaks off his face as he followed Dumbledore down the hallway. Dumbledore indicated a bedroom on the right hand side and nodded to Draco in dismissal before walking off, presumably to find Lupin.

Draco stared at the closed bedroom door for a moment, feeling drained but still upset over what had happened to him since he left his rooms at Malfoy Manor the previous evening. He stormed into the bedroom, slamming the door behind him, and gave the end of the bed a kick before falling across it with a growl of aggravation.

Harry, sitting cross-legged on the opposite bed thumbing idly through a well-worn copy of Quidditch Through the Ages, didn't even glance up. "Are you quite through trying to tear my house apart?" He didn't have to look to know Draco was glaring at him. "That was a temper tantrum worse than one of Dudley's. Very becoming of a Malfoy."

"Sod off, Potter!" Draco snarled. "And what do you mean, your house?"

"Exactly that," Harry replied. "This is my house. I own it."

"You own a house? I thought you were about as rich as the Weasel's family." Draco was curious, but he was also spoiling for a fight. When he didn't get a rise out of Harry, he wasn't sure if he was supposed to feel disappointed or worried. As much as he hated this newfound concern for others, he couldn't help but help think that this depressed, emotionless side of Harry was alarming compared to the confrontational Harry he was used to. "What, did the Ministry give it to you as thanks for the fiasco that led to the Death Eaters' arrest?"

Harry closed the book and set it on the nightstand with deliberate slowness. "Actually, I have Bellatrix Lestrange to thank." When he looked at Draco, his eyes were so deadly calm it was almost frightening. There was not even a flicker of emotion as Harry waited expectantly for a reaction to his statement.

Draco sat up on the edge of the bed closest to Harry, his brow wrinkling in confusion. "Aunt Bellatrix? What does she have to do with anything?"

"She made the house mine when she killed my godfather."

"Oh." Draco stared at his hands as the words sank in. He felt he should say something but wasn't sure exactly how to respond. Finally he settled on a phrase that seldom entered his vocabulary. "Harry, I'm sorry."

Harry didn't know which to be more surprised over, the apology or the use of his given name. "Don't be. You can't apologize for who your family is."

"Not just for that. For everything. For the last five years. For destroying the drawing room."

"That's okay. I'm sure Dumbledore repaired everything. Besides, I can't say anything; I destroyed Dumbledore's office once when I was upset." He grinned at Malfoy.

Draco considered this for a minute and flashed a quick grin before falling serious again when he caught sight of Harry's arms. The bruises were clearly visible now that Harry had changed into a short-sleeved shirt. "What happened to you?"

"Nothing," Harry lied, quickly crossing his arms in the same fashion Draco had done earlier.

"Doesn't look like nothing," Draco replied, jumping up and grabbing Harry's arm. Harry jerked his arm out of Draco's grasp, but not before Draco saw the perfect circle of a bruise encircling Harry's wrist. Harry stood and crossed the room and stared out the window. Draco looked at him and noticed spots where Harry's t-shirt was sticking to his back. He had never considered that Harry might have a less-than-perfect home life. He walked up behind Harry slowly, pushing up his sleeves as he went. He stopped a few feet from the other boy, knowing his reflection was clearly visible in the window. "Look," he said quietly. "No mark. I know you wanted to ask me earlier. If you want to share your secrets, I wouldn't tell anyone. And if not, you might want to get Lupin to look at your back anyway. I'm going to find Karissa." Harry was still staring out the window when Draco left the room.