The Harry Potter Home for Wounded War Heroes (HP - Drarry)

Chapter 1: Water

So... not a new chapter of JNCOFT. Don't worry - one of those is on the way soon. Possibly even Wednesday (aka tomorrow). But for now - a new, fluffy story, since I've been posting a lot of angst. Draco POV only. Will probably be around 6 or 7 chapters.

It was raining. Cold, miserable, and altogether too wet, the world outside Malfoy Manor mocked Draco. He sat curled in the window seat; the book he'd been reading lay beside him, forgotten. He wrapped his arms around his knees, curling his legs close to his body. He dropped his chin to rest on his knees and stared balefully at the water sleeting down, the slate-gray clouds that seemed to drop lower as he watched. The wards pinged again in his mind, more insistently this time. Draco scowled harder.

"Draco, darling," Mother's voice floated down to him, "I believe someone's at the gates. Won't you go and let them in?"

Draco muttered something decidedly uncomplimentary. If he'd had his wand, of course, he could have simply asked the wards who was there, and either opened the gates remotely or told the would-be visitor where they could go. If he'd had his wand. As it was, the bloody ward alarm was about as useless as...as a muggle doorbell. He could have at least cast an impervius charm, or something.

Bloody useless Potter just had to keep his wand, didn't he. "Look at me, now, Potter," he grumbled to himself, as he squelched down the drive. "Just look at me, now." The words were uncharitable and petty, and didn't really make much sense, but they made Draco feel infinitesimally better. He continued his muttered diatribe until he drew even with the gates, doing his best to ignore the steady drip, drip, drip of icy water that slipped past his collar and ran down the back of his neck. He'd run out of original insults some time back, and let out one more "Bloody useless Potter" for good measure as he peered through the gates, trying to make out the figure beyond.

There was a startled cough, and then a familiar voice said, "Er, hullo to you, too, Malfoy."

Oh, this was just too much. "What are you doing here, Potter?" Draco hissed, squinting suspiciously though the sodden strings of hair hanging in his eyes.

Potter rubbed the back of his neck, which was no doubt warm and dry, since the git still had the use of his wand. "Er, I brought this back. Thanks for the loan." He held out Draco's wand. Oh.

Draco clasped his hands tightly behind his back to keep himself from reaching out for it. "Don't bother, Potter. They'll just take it like they took my parents' wands."

Potter gaped at him. "I'm sorry, what?"

Draco snorted. "Your lot – from the ministry. Came a few days after the trials. Had all sorts of official documents." He sneered. "Said it was some new ministry policy: Death Eaters can't be allowed magic, you know. We might hurt someone. "

Potter's eyes had gone hard and dangerous. Draco drew in a startled breath. Merlin, he'd forgotten how good Potter looked when he was angry. He had the sudden urge to insult Potter, or punch him. Anything to keep those green eyes flashing. "I'll just bet they did." Potter seemed to see him, then. He grimaced. "You look like a drowned rat."

Draco scowled. And then he has to go and say something like that. "It's raining, you prat. No wand, remember?"

Remorse flashed through Potter's eyes, quickly followed by a steely determination. "Right." He flicked Draco's wand, casting an impervious charm, drying charm, and warming spell over him in quick succession. "Wait here."

There was the familiar crack of apparition, and Potter was gone.

"Where the fuck do you think I'll go, Potter?" Draco asked the air petulantly. Then he sighed. Merlin it feels good to be warm and dry.

He was just considering that maybe Potter didn't mean it quite so literally, and that it might make more sense, all things considered, to go back inside the manor, when Potter reappeared, slightly out of breath.

"Oh, good. You're still here."

Draco rolled his eyes. "House arrest, Potter. I can't fucking leave."

"Oh. Right. Er – you could have gone inside, though."

Which was true, damn him. "I was enjoying the evening?" Draco cursed himself for making it sound like a question. He opened the gate this time and stepped through. He was just tired of talking through it, he told himself firmly. It had absolutely nothing to do with wanting to stand that much closer to Potter.

Potter looked around at the gray, sleeting rain and raised a skeptical brow. "Riiight." They stood in surprisingly companionable silence for a moment before Potter shook himself. "Oh, er, here." He thrust a hand inside his robe and withdrew Draco's wand, along with those of his parents. Then he produced an alarmingly thick parchment. He handed it all to Draco.

"What's this?" Draco unfolded the parchment.

"It's the list of restrictions on your wands." Potter looked ill, and no wonder.

"Merlin – "

Potter scrubbed his hand through his hair. "I know. Listen, Draco," he muttered, moving closer, "Don't fuck this up. I'll get those idiotic restrictions removed as soon as I can, but Kingsley has to at least give the appearance of compromising with the idiots from the old ministry. Just – play by the rules for a few weeks, 'til I can get this sorted, yeah?"

Draco felt his hand going up, mirroring Potter's, and forced it down again. He put far too much effort into his hair to muss it up. Anyway, it wouldn't end up looking as good as Potter's – he just knew it. Not that Potter's looked good, exactly. Merlin. "Er, yeah. I'll try."

They stared at one another for a long moment. Draco broke the silence. "Er, want to come in? I think Mother's having tea soon."

Potter stared at him just long enough for Draco to wish he hadn't said anything at all. He was just moving on to wishing the ground would open and swallow him up, and wondering if there was a spell that would do that, and if the ministry would allow him to use it, when Harry smiled. A slow, lazy, incredulous smile that lit up his entire face. "I'm afraid I can't right now – I'm already late as it is. Maybe next time – Draco."

Potter raised his wand, saluted Draco with it, and then, with a dramatic and completely unnecessary flourish that would have put Lockhart to shame, he whirled in place and was gone, leaving Draco to stare at the spot where he'd been.

"Thanks...Harry," he whispered. He stood, staring at the rain for long minutes, clutching his wand and grinning like an idiot. He was still grinning when he closed the gate, skipped up the drive, and went to give his parents their wands.