Harry Potter 1. One Little Mistake

**Well people, I have literally been thinking about this story/Fanfic for**** months****!!! Yes months!!! But now I am FINALLY setting this idea loose for you guys to read. It is set right near the end of the 6****th**** book right after Dumbledore has been killed. But I must warn you, I haven't read the end of the the 6****th**** book yet, and have only seen the movie, so it might be a little off. Please comment! And most importantly…enjoy!!!! Disclaimer; I do not own Harry Potter. There, I said it.**

Draco ran as fast as his legs could carry him. It was almost dark, his view only to be lit by the curses and jinxes whizzing through the air and he was tripping over his own feet, not to mention the rocks and fallen trees. Behind him he could hear the sound of screaming and cries of fury. In the dark an image, a horrible memory played inside his mind repeatedly. The chill of the air, the soft musty smell that lingered from years of existence and the sickening thud that made his stomach uneasy haunted him but this was not the worst of it, no, it wasn't. It was the image, the image of the bright flash of light rapidly traveling as fast as lightning, faster than Draco could do so much as think. The look of absolute terror was embedded in his memory, and he knew subconsciously it always would be. From behind him he could hear more furious screams, white hot rage that, he would never admit, were so hateful, so filled with loathing, that they frightened him. But somewhere in his mind, he knew that voice, somewhere, where he wasn't worried about running into giant tree stumps and tripping over, rocks he knew that voice. It was a voice he could hardly recognize because of the pure distaste, that he'd heard angered before but never at such an extreme as it was now. It was the voice of that of his worst enemy, Harry Potter. He was screaming at a man Draco could recognize from behind as Professor Snape. Harry's voice oozed loathing as he shout insults and spells. Draco continued to run, while straining his eyes to see where he was going; needless to say it wasn't working because he tripped over a large fallen tree. He landed on his hands, and one of his hands was cut on a jagged rock. He yelped in agony as he felt his hand become wet with blood. He muttered swear words at the rock, even though he knew it couldn't hear him, steadied himself and stood up and continued to run as he had been before. He could still barley see spells zip though the air and could see the residue, the feeble glowing residue of powerful hexes and other deadly spells. He heard someone yell a curse (not a swearword) and heard it speed through the air effortlessly. The next thing he knew, he felt unbelievable pain pulse through his entire body before feeling himself plunge down. And then everything went dark.

It was nine in the morning when the lone pair of feet crunched on autumn's dead leaves. You could tell it was nine because of the beauty that lingered in the air and the haunting silence that plagued the Forbidden Forest. The feet shuffled at a steady pace while staying nearly inaudible to anyone else. And then, without warning, they paused. The lone hiker knelt down to get a closer look at the peaceful face that had beholden them. His face looked peaceful and at ease, though his forehead was cut and his pale blonde hair was stained by his dry blood. A small, pale hand gently pushed his bangs aside to examine the damage. The cut was small, but deep and if not treated, could quickly become infected. While one hand remained on the boy's forehead, the other went to his throat to check his pulse. It was dull and slow, but it was there, and that was all that mattered. Without so much as another thought, those small and gentle hands lifted the boy into, lean but strong arms. And then, the hiker was off, taking steady and soft steps deeper off into the Forbidden Forest.


	2. First Impessions

**Thanks for the reviews, it really means a lot to me, you have no idea!!! Disclaimer: I am not claiming to own Harry Potter. **

Draco stirred into conscienceless and let out a low moan at the faint pain that pulsed through his body. He blinked away hazy vision to find that he didn't know where he was. He was on a small, soft bed, covered in quilts with various unusual designs. The walls surrounding the room were pale blue and seemed to glow, with small drifting white puffs that Draco decided were supposed to be clouds. He pushed the soft patterned quilts off his body and rose to his feet. He wobbled dangerously and stumbled, but quickly caught himself by grasping the bed. The pain made even the smallest of movement painful, though it was bearable enough that he decided to continue to explore. He soon had made his way across the room and was entering a long hallway.

This hallway did not look like any other Draco had ever seen; Paintings were hung over most of the space on the walls, and the figures within then questioned Draco and pointed at him. He walked down that hall until he saw…orbs? He saw small glowing orbs, like little stars floating just outside a threshold. Intrigued, he walked closer to the twinkling little specks. They floated leisurely in the air in each direction, going this way and that. Draco raised his hand and tried to touch one, but before he could, the speck was gone. He looked around trying to figure out where it had went off to, but it was nowhere to be seen. He walked closer into the entrance of the doorway, the shining flecks still populating the air.

In the room was a young girl a couple years older than Draco, brushing her hair as the orbs swam around her, leaving behind trails of simmering, translucent shreds of fabric around her slender form, almost like spiders weaving a web. Draco watched a small shard of fabric fall into to place at her waist amongst the ranks of the others. Her straight, pale chestnut colored hair was draped over her shoulder, as she was still gently stroking it with a hair brush. Draco took in her mesmerizing brown doe eyes, porcelain skin and heart shaped face and lips. She didn't seem to notice Draco in the doorway, and looked contently and serenely at her reflection in a mirror. The orbs, one by one began to disappear and Draco watched with curiosity. As a final fleck left a shred of fabric to fall into the big, puffy, glowing white dress, the girl slowly turned to the door and caught him off guard by meeting his gaze. Her pastel red heart shaped lips formed a small smile, and she spoke, her voice chimed sounding as light as a feather.

"Good morning. It's nice to see you awake, you've been unconscious for quite a while, gave me quite a scare, you did. You must be starving, come, and I'll make you breakfast."

Draco was speechless. It wasn't for a few moments that he could say anything. He tried to hide his apprehension at the concern he was receiving was this strange girl and barked at her;

"Who are you and who do you think you are to try to take care of me? I can take care of myself if you haven't noticed!"

Undisturbed, she answered him, her voice maintain the same musical sound.

"My name, my dear, is Renzama Faharo."

He gazed at her blankly not sure what to feel. Then without warning, he bellowed at her;

"Who do you _think_ you are you filthy little mudblood?!"

She glared at him, fire have ignited within her big brown eyes. She spoke sweetly, though one could hear the traces of sarcasm and bitterness in her voice.

"I think I am Rendezama Faharo, Daughter of Valera and Hugo Faharo. And if you must know, I'm a half-blood, not a muggle born," She paused, and her anger subsided, the fire burning out.

"Come on, let's get you some breakfast."

**Well, there you go the second chapter to my story. Please write reviews for me, I need to know if I'm being accurate, OOC, yada-yada, stuff like that, that way I can improve. Hope you enjoyed it! **


	3. The Girl With the Warm Smile

**Well, I'm writing another chapter even though there are barely any people reading it. Pisses me off a little, but I'm sure I'll get over that. Anyway, it's going to take a lot more than that to get me to stop writing my Fanfic!!!! Disclaimer: I seriously don't own HP, so stop asking.**

They walked silently down the winding hall, the people within the portraits talking to Rendezama, asking who the strange boy who was mute at her side. She remained quiet for a while until she seemed to at last, reach a breaking point and stared back at a mousy, gray haired woman within a canvas.

"Must you pester me mercilessly? I will explain later, though you would have known that if you'd had at least a little faith in me. "

She could not keep the impatience out of her bell-like voice and continued to stare ahead for a few short moments and then looked back at Draco, whose forehead was bandaged, though his face was still unnaturally pale. He stared back at her with curiosity and without another thought she snapped her gaze back to where it had been mere seconds ago. She heaved a great sigh and at last, they came upon what looked like a vast kitchen.

It was perhaps the brightest kitchen Draco had ever seen in his life; large frame less windows were placed over a spotless glass sink, the counters were made out some bright white sparkling stone, the floors were made of vibrant chestnut colored wood. Elaborate wooden chairs were seated beside a table that was draped with pale peach colored fabric. Sunlight poured in through the windows and beams danced through the calm air. Rendezama gestured at the table and spoke softly and kindly;

"Sit, sit, you mustn't waste what little energy you have standing and ogling my kitchen."

Draco wordlessly obeyed and pulled a creaking chair out from beneath the table and sat down, but never the less still looked slightly dazed. Rendezama walked over to the table and prompted her elbows on the edge, her chin resting her porcelain hands.

"Now, what would you like for breakfast? Buttered crescent rolls with scrambled eggs, or pancakes with maple syrup, ooo, or maybe grape fruit or blueberry muffins… please tell me what you'd like so that I may stop babbling, I wouldn't want to talk your ear off (though that might not be such a bad idea considering what you've said to me.)"

Draco gazed up at her and gave a small smile. It wasn't his Malfoy sneer, but a small, good natured smile. This was probably the first time it had over appeared on his face, though Rendezama would not know that. He thought about his options for a second, some that didn't involve breakfast, and decided he would:

A. Humor her and stay and B. have the pancakes

"I think I'll have the pancakes."

She smiled at him serenely;

"Good choice."

She picked up a wand out of nowhere and gave it a small flick of the wrist and ingredients' appeared in front of her .she waved her wand and they floated through the air. Flour poured it's self into a measuring cup, eggs cracked themselves into bowels, and a Wisk appeared beside it. Draco watched her with curiosity and vague amusement; why was this strange girl going out of her way to take care of him? No one had ever even done so much as to try to before, so why should she be any different? _Whatever reason she has doesn't matter; either way she is wasting her time on me, since I walk alone and take care of myself. Stupid, brainless girl. If she wants to take care of anyone it should be herself; do herself a favor and check herself into St. Mungo's. _ His thoughts came to a halt as he heard the sound of faint music in the air, haunting but beautiful, he looked around for the source and suddenly realized what it was; Rendezama was humming. He sat there entranced by her voice but came back to earth, feeling nothing but fury; why couldn't this girl just leave him alone? Why did she have to bother him so?

"You really gave me quite a scare, I wasn't sure you would wake up. Badly injured and hit with the slight residue of the killing curse. On the bright side you have had a long, deep sleep."

Draco blinked. All rage forgotten, he spoke out loud and heard his own, somewhat shaky voice.

"How long was I…asleep for?" She cocked her head to the side and gazed at him with vague pity, something that set Draco's insides ablaze once more.

"About 4 days. For 4 days I was scared stiff since I wasn't sure you'd…make it."

Draco was speechless. Had he really been unconscious for that long? He did not know what to say, so the girl, Rendezama, spoke after a few moments.

"What happened to you? Who was trying to kill you out there?"

Draco froze. What could he tell her? That he was a Death Eater who had been running away from the scene of a murder, and was cursed at by the real heroes? He somehow found his voice and spoke, his voice emotional and thick.

"Death Eaters, a whole lot of them were coming at me and I tripped over a couple of rocks and fell and, and got cut. I got back up and then, I can't remember anything." He mouth formed a small "O" and she quickly covered it with her hand her face shocked and sympathetic. She cooed softly, making a part of Draco ache, considering her sympathy was being cause by his lie.

"Poor thing. They almost killed you, came too bloody close for words. Did you try to fight them off? Was that even enough?" Draco's mind went blank for a second but he then continued to act, and let his lies continue to stream out of his mouth.

"Yes. I tried to fend them off, but my magic wasn't powerful enough. Didn't send Avada Kedavra at them, but the most powerful magic I could muster. Didn't work out too well did it?"

She closed her mesmerizing doe eyes, seemingly deep in thought and then replied solemnly; "I suppose not." She turned her gave back to the stove that was right behind her and gave her wand a lazy flick, _flipping the pancakes_, Draco guessed. When she turned around her face suddenly seemed grim and more translucent then before. She lowered her gaze to the table for a few short moments, looking strangely frail. Seeming to have realized something, she snapped her gaze back up again and flicked her wand. Draco could hear the _smack_ of pancakes hitting glass plates, which then floated to the table right next to him. He studied it for a second before cutting a small piece and popping it into his mouth. It was light and fluffy, and even a little sweet. Perfect. He took another bite, and then another and then another, and before he knew it his plate was clean.

"How was it?" Rendezama asked curiously, seemly regaining her composure.

"It was…-"Draco stopped himself from expressing too much gratitude, that way he would not let this girl have the satisfaction. "Good." Though in all truth he had been about to say "fantastic".

"Good!" She grinned, and it seemed Draco's efforts had been in vain.

"Oh, and if you want, you can call me Dezie." She smiled pleasantly and motioned for him to fallow her down another long hallway. As they walked down the hall, Draco at "Dezie's" heels, he tried out the name and whispered it quietly "Dezie, Dezie, _Dezie_."And though he could not see her, she smiled at the way he cautiously sampled her new found nickname. They came to a stop at a wide archway to what looked like a little bathroom. It was just as bright as the kitchen, but its walls were painted so that they looked like the scene of that of a beach. The people who lived within the walls smiled and waved, their bathing suits covered with pure, white sand. A small foot stool sat in the center of the room and Dezie gestured to Draco to take a seat. He sat down and the old footstool wobbled a bit and he watched Dezie walk to a cabinet just behind him. She pulled out what looked like a little wooden box and kneeled down beside. "Let me see your hand." She murmured. Draco did what he was told and placed his right hand into her tiny one. Her hand was warn and soft, and if he hadn't known better he would have sworn he'd seen her face turn slightly pinker. Her face was inches from his and she murmured;

"This might hurt a little. But please, stay still if you can." She took off a bandage that had been on his hand (though he hadn't noticed it before) and revealed a long semi-deep cut that went across his hand, the red blood emphasized on his white skin. She took a rag from within the box and wet it with water and soap. She pressed the rag to his hand and he exclaimed with pain;

"Hey! Don't touch it! You making it feel even worse-"she cut him off and spoke softly, "Please, please, stay still, or _you'll_ make it worse." She pressed again with the rag and Draco attempted to swat her away.

"What is your name?" She sounded curious and solemn at the same time. Draco hesitated but managed to whisper a reply in between gasps of pain.

"Draco. Draco Malfoy." She smiled, and look slightly somber, cooing sadly,

"You must think I'm crazy Draco. Crazy for taking in and feeding a stranger whose name I don't even know. Merlin, that is what you think of me isn't it?" he considered saying "yes" for a moment, before coming to the conclusion that this girl had taken care of him (no matter how much that infuriated him) and the least he could do was spare her hurt feelings.

"No, not at all." He sounded somewhat stiff, but otherwise pretty convincing. She remained silent for a while, apparently deep in thought. She eventually spoke sounding a little more hopeful and peppy and closer to how she had been not long before.

"Strange effect that curse had on you. Won't let me heal you cuts with "Episkey" or anything else, only the magicless way. Very curious, don't you think?" He suddenly became quiet, his voice as fragile as a gust of wind,

"Yeah. Curious." He was soon lost in thought, and her voice faded away from his mind. What would Voldemort do to him once they discovered he was gone? Or did he already know and was on his way to spill his blood that very second? Or would he torture him first? Would he kill Dezie too, just for the sake of it? Would she try to save him, if Voldemort did come after him? (Which he was certain he would) these thoughts haunted him, and Dezie seemed to notice he was slightly troubled.

"You alright? You look as though your head might explode, by looking at the expression on your face. What's bothering you?" he considered her words for a minute, deciding to tell a half-truth.

"I'm scared that when I eventually leave this place, I won't be able to fight the Death Eaters if they have come to finish me off." She frowned ever so slightly, her brow furrowed in concentration.

"Oh my, that could be a problem couldn't it? Well what if...no, no that wouldn't work. But what about…that wouldn't work either. But if – what if- would you want me to teacher you magic?" Malfoy gave a small sneer,"No, I have already gone to Hogwarts for that." She looked slightly flustered and said,

"No, No, I mean powerful magic. Fool proof magic." Draco looked at her as though she had 2 heads and asked puzzled,

"What do you mean?" "Well, since we seem to have time, I might as well explain to you the whole story. Could you not look at me like that? It makes me feel as though I am some kind of caged attraction?-" she gave him a harmless glare and continued to speak –" my mother's side of the family was pureblood, and their magic went back, years and years and years ago, one of the first magical families even. Over those many years, her family had invented spells, spells that were flimsy, but worked none-the-less. Each generation had the spells passed down in an old spell book, a book that contained all the knowledge of the previous family members. Through time, each generation had strengthened each spell, made it stronger than it had been originally been. These spells eventually became unbreakable because the amount of purifying that had been done to make them stronger. During the time You-Know-Who was at his peak, my mother extracted her knowledge and placed it into the spell book, for she had add the finishing touches to each spell, perfecting them. If you think it will assist you, I am willing to teach you some of the spells in my spell book, spells that could maybe help you fight off the Death eaters." For a moment, he was speechless. Unbreakable spells? It sounded like a good enough plan, and against his gut instinct, her looked her in the eyes and said,

"It sounds like a smart plan to me."

**Well people, if you could please, PLEASE comment that would be fantastic.**


	4. New Wounds

**Well, I am getting ready to give up now. No one is reading this story and I am only writing for my own enjoyment now. Well, here goes nothing. (oh, and if you want to understand my mindset while I was writing the beginning of this chapter look up Opus 36 - Dustin O'Halloran on Youtube, I think it sets up the mood pretty well since it was what I was listening to.) Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.**

She smiled at him, her doe eyes making feel almost calm. _Almost. _His heart thudded against his chest, guilt slowly clouding his mind. Would it really be right to use her like this? She soon finished cleaning up his hand, she took out a needle and thin, clear thread. The needle sparkled in the light maliciously, wickedly sneering at Draco. Draco's eyes widened with the realization of what was about to happen.

"No, no, no, NO! This cut does NOT need stitches!" he stated defiantly, looking Dezie in the eyes. She returned his gaze sympathetically.

"Oh, but on the contrary Draco, it does. I am afraid that if I do not do stitches the cut will reopen and it will take all the longer for it to heal. Believe me; I'm not doing this because I enjoy it." She threaded the little needle, her pale peach colored hands solid and sure. She looked up at him from the needle, and gently picked up his hand and held it, palm faced upward. She looked at him in the eyes, and he met it nervously. He didn't know what to think of the warmth and softness of her hand on his.

"You can relax you know," she cooed, her eyes full of sympathy, something that set Draco's insides ablaze. "I will try to do his as carefully as I can, so as to not make it hurt more then necessary. " Her long pale fingers curled softly around the outline of his hand, steadying it so that it did not shake. Draco whimpered, edgy at the oncoming pain. Her gaze went from his hand to his eyes once more.

"if you can survive Death Eaters than I don't see why you can't face a tiny needle. " Guilt washed over him as it had before, but he knew she was right. After all he had been though this was the least of his worries. She sighed, seeing that she had finally gotten through to him, and drove the needle so that it punctured his skin. She wove the needle and thread from one side of the cut to another so that it started to form a single straight line instead of a gap. Draco began to forget the pain and stared at her in silent awe. The way she closed his cut, moved the needle with so much care – it amazed him. Her soft fingers cradled his hand as though it might break if she didn't. It was strange to Draco, so foreign that it startled him. Her gaze remained on his hand for a long time, until the thread had reached its end, and the needle stopped. Her big brown eyes trailed on her handy work for a moment before she met his curious gaze once more. Neither said a word, for no words were needed. Dezie looked down at his hand once more and then looped the remaining thread so that it formed a small knot.

"There you go! How does it feel?"

"To tell you the truth…strange." Draco answered with sincerity.

"It might feel like that for a while, but it will eventually heal. Oh my…,"

"What?" he replied alarmed.

"That gash on you head…I'm afraid it's going to need tending to…." She looked down, obviously afraid of his reaction. After a moment of silence, Draco spoke up once more.

"Okay," he said calmly.

"Okay?" she repeated, surprised.

"Yes, you can treat the cut if you find it necessary," he sounded slightly stiff, but as calm as could be. She looked at him, and she looked like she was about to say something, but turned away, and held the door for him. The people within the wall paper waved goodbye, smiling and building sand castles on the painted beach. Dezie looked behind her, making sure that Draco was fallowing her. She paused for a moment, and spoke her voice quiet and crystal clear,

"I'd treat it in the bathroom, where we just were, but it seems this might be a bit more complex than a few stitches," She looked down ever so slightly, strands of her pale brown hair falling over her face. Her amber eyes searched the floor silently.

"Alright, then lead the way."

She looked up at him, a small half hearted smile playing on her lips. She guided the way, silently smiling, and Draco feeling strangely calm, and almost numb. Guilt was slowly consuming him, drowning him. They walked along the long hallway, the faces within the painting watching them and attempting to call out to Rendezama. She glared up at them, and held up a single finger, the universal sign for "one minute," although Draco had a sneaking suspicion that she had no intention of talking to them for a while. The more they pleaded her for information, the more patience she seemed to lose. After a mousey haired woman shouted "please! What is going on? Have you finally cracked?" she turned to face the long line of portraits staring down at her, all of whom were practically trembling with fear. The mousy haired woman gulped: she knew she had gone too far this time.

"It seems that no one in this household has enough confidence in me to trust my actions. Perhaps then, you are all better off without me, am I correct? You wouldn't need to have an untrustworthy fiend in this house would you?" She spoke with her teeth clenched, her face slowly beginning to glow like a heated ember. Her face was filling with color, and Draco silently wondered what she would look like if she didn't lack pink in her features.

"No, no! Please stay, don't leave me!" cried a little girl from her frame higher up on the wall. Tears welled up into her blue eyes, her blond hair falling over her shoulders. Rendezama's face softened ever so slightly, but she still looked enraged. She began to tremble, her soft curls falling over her face. A young woman with blond hair reached out, her hand appearing in the little girls frame and patted her on the shoulder. Rendezama continued to shake, and though her face was hidden Draco knew how she was feeling. He didn't need to see her face to know. The mousy hair woman's lips moved, but no sound came out. Finally the silence was broken by the blond girls cries once more.

"Ren, what is going on? You've _never_ acted like this before! I'm scared!" Rendezama's breathing began to slow and return to normal. She lifted her head so that she was eying the little girl.

"Claudia, you have no cause for fear; I am still me, and I will always be. But you and everyone else need to trust me; I know what I am doing-"

"-but that** is **it you're doing?" asked the mousy haired woman, who seemed to have regained her voice. Dezie sighed and pushed her hair behind her ear. She obviously still wasn't quite calm yet. Just as she was about to open her mouth and talk she was interrupted once more.

"- yes what **are **you doing?" asked a older man with a receding hairline. Voices murmured, and questions were mumbled. Rendezama was calm and still, her head held up high. She took a step back so that she could see the whole wall of portraits.

"You ask as to what I have been doing, and I continuously ask you to have patience with me. It seems the time has come for me to share with you what exactly is going on around here, since you all have become so anxious. You see this young man here-" She gestured at Draco, who had been stand mute behind her "- would have ceased to exist if I hadn't stumbled upon him in the woods. A group of Death Eaters came terrifyingly close to hitting him with the killing curse and though the curse obviously didn't hit him directly, the residue, the very essence of the curse was wrapped in, touch him ever so slightly, though it could have been enough if I hadn't found him. I, as of now, am trying to treat cuts that he got while trying to escape them. Have I smoldered your flames of curiosity yet? Or must I sheath venom at you so that you may back down?" No one said a word to question her authority, and so with that she grabbed Draco's hand and led him away from the scene.

"Are you crazy? Do you want to end up like-?"Draco could vaguely hear a voice say as they left the room, though Dezie seemed to ignore it, staring blankly ahead. They finally reached a long white door with a silver handle, which Dezie gently tugged and unlatched.

The room was beautiful, and was almost as breathtaking as the dining room had been; the walls were painted with meadows, where multicolored flowers swayed in a gentle breeze. Lighted poured through long windows like the ones in the kitchen/dining room and were perfectly framed by translucent white drapes. The floor was painted so that the ground beneath them appeared to be green and grassy. Dezie led him to a soft fluffy bed in the center of the room. He sat down on the edge while she disappeared once more, _to retrieve something from the bathroom,_ Draco guessed. She came back with a small bucket in one hand, and in her arm she held a box and a wash cloth. _Oh no, please not this again_, Draco mentally groaned. She placed the bucket down on the floor and plopped right down next to him on the bed. The lower half of her mysterious gown wrinkled as she crossed her legs. She looked at him with that solid calmness of hers. For a moment she didn't speak, but studied his face closely, especially his cut.

"I don't want to do this, really I don't, but I'm afraid if I don't it'll –"

"Oh please just do it all ready!" Draco snapped, suddenly regretting he had given consent to this. She looked at him slightly alarmed at his sudden change of temperament. She shook her head slightly and pushed her hair behind her ear. She looked at him right in the eyes, a hint of determination showing in her expression.

"You might want to lie down; it'll make it a lot easier for me to treat. Oh don't look at me like that; you know how reluctant I am to do this."

He lie down on top of the beds soft peach colored blanket and stared up at the ceiling. Blue skies and fluffy white clouds stared right back down at him. Without warning she took hold of his hand and Draco's gaze met hers.

"Calm down, please,_ please_ calm down. It makes my job here a little easier to know that you've at least got a little confidence in me. "

she let go of his hand and he realized that it was shaking slightly. He was shaking. She bent down and damped her washcloth in the bucket and then turned back to him with a small smile on her face.

"You don't really say much do you?" she smirked as she pushed his bangs away from the cut.

"No, my mummy and daddy always told me not to talk to strangers," he said with a laugh, "you know 'stranger danger'?"

"Haha, oh yes. My parents told me that as well." She smiled, though Draco could easily tell it was fake.

"What about your parents? I haven't seen anyone else here since I woke up, not in flesh and blood anyway." She stared back at him, her expression blank. Like a deer in headlights.

"It's a long story for another time."

She concluded as she patted his cut with the washcloth once more, stinging it so that he could only cringe. Her face was stone cold and expressionless, and whatever color had been in her face was quickly drained. She sat beside him on the bed and dabbed at the cut, her face blank but her hands gentle. She lightly wiped at the area around the cut, cleaning it of any dirt and blood that may have clung, despite the fact she had cleaned it when he was unconscious. Everything about her features was icy and still. All except for her eyes. Her eyes showed all the emotion that the rest of her momentarily lacked. Her eyes did not tear, but uttered silent cries of despair. Cries that could not be heard but seen. And yet her focus remained on Draco, and him alone. And all the while he silently drowned in her unshed tears. She dunked the wash cloth in the bucket, rehydrating it of moisture. Draco lie there, desperately longing to speak, to ask what was bothering her. But he couldn't. His heart bellowed at him to speak but his body wouldn't obey. For a long time there was silence, which was eventually broken by Rendezama sighing. She opened the small box that she had carried in and threaded another needle, her hands solid and firm.

"Are you okay?" Draco asked, his voice low and barely audible. She smirked at him sadly, her eyes retaining the same weary sadness.

"Coming from the boy who was touched by death," she smiled humorlessly "Yes, I'm quite alright." Draco stared at her, not believing a word that had just come out of her mouth. He gathered his courage and persisted once more.

"Are you sure? Because we can ta-"

"Yes, I'm sure. I've never been so sure of anything in my life." The pain in her eyes grew to an excess, and her eyes brimmed with tears. Draco's heart ached as he stared up at her helplessly, her pain striking his heartstrings, knocking the wind out of him. Before he could think about what his doing, he out stretched his hand and grasped hers. She looked at him, her tears threatening to fall. He spoke softly in a tone he had never used before, a sympathy so foreign it made him feel strange.

"You have treated me with such kindness and care, it would be wrong if I turned my back on you in your time of need." She sat there mute, her hand in his. Her mouth trembled as she struggled to speak.

"Let me tell you about my family: my father was a muggle who worked as a school teacher. From what I can remember he taught third grade children, and never got tired of his job. My mother, she was a greater witch then anyone will ever know. She worked a regular job at St. Mungo's as a nurse, but in her spare time she worked on an invention that she thought would save lives. What she created was like a vanishing cabinet, but the size a large closet. But instead of transporting people, it hid them. This closet could not be detected by magic and could not been seen by the naked eye. Once she had perfected her first one, she put it in our living room. You must understand this was during the time Voldemort was at his highest point. He was slaying people every which way and my mother wanted to try and prevent as many deaths as she could. She was the bravest woman I'll have ever known. She would have drills with me and my younger brother Brandon regularly, telling us to run to the closet and hide until she gave us the okay to come out. I remember I had thought of it as nothing more than a game she had made up. And so she started selling her hiding closets in secret, saving people's lives one by one. But somehow her name got out there, and before any of us could comprehend what was happening our door was blasted open. And I remember how my mother screamed at me and Brandon, telling us to go to the closet. We ran and Brandon stumbled behind me, falling. But I had to keep running: the footsteps were coming. I would have turned back if I'd had time, but my time was limited. I slipped into the closet, and once I had, screams ricocheting off of the walls. I sat there for hours, unsure of what to do: my mother had never actually told us what we were to do after we got to the closet. I waited a long time before I came out, and when I did my family was gone. I'd heard the horrible screams of terror and pain, but they were nowhere to be found. It was as though they had never existed. Everything was untouched, except for a mirror that had been in the living room that had been almost completely shattered. I still don't quite understand what happened that day, but I do know for sure that my family – my live family – is dead as dust. Those screams…they were all that I needed to hear to know for sure. Since then my, for the most part, deceased relatives within the portraits in the hall, have taught me all that I know. Even if they are paint on white canvases, they are the closest thing I have had to a family for a long time," She drew to a close, unshed tears still filling her eyes.

She closed her eyes, and calm graced her delicate features. It was clear she'd never told this to anyone before, not living. Malfoy felt as though he'd been stabbed in the chest: he was on the same side as the person who had left her whole life in ruins. And she was treating him, an injured stranger, with so much care and_** he**_ was playing the victim? It was because of the people whose side he was on that she was broken. His stomach dropped, and guilt crept up on him and engulfed him whole. He was living a lie: she thought he had been hurt by the same people she had. How in Merlin's name was he ever going to live with himself after this? At this point the pain in his chest was worse than the pain of the gash on his forehead. He lie there and didn't say a word. Rendezama sighed and wiped at his cut, making him flinch.

"That's why I want to teach you my family's magic: it would be my way of fighting back."

That one sentence tore Draco apart. She thought they were both on the same side. His chest throbbed, the pain increasing to a whole new level that he never would have been able to imagine. The guilt was devouring him whole, and was pounding away at him. Sure he had done many cruel things in his life, but this did not even count as cruel: it was just _twisted_. He closed his eyes: he couldn't even look at her. He was disgusted with himself, that he was using her like this. Why? He couldn't comprehend that much, but he did. She wiped at his cut, and he cringed again, as all of his pain mounted. _Bloody hell,_ he thought_, is this ever going to end? _She dried whatever water lingered behind on his forehead with the corner of the cloth, which she had left dry. Her touch was gentle, but Draco felt pain dwelling behind on his skin where the cut was. He closed his eyes and tried to channel the self loathing he felt into biting his lip. At least that way he wasn't hurting her.

"Are you even listening to me?" she breathed, her voice threaded with sorrow. Draco nodded silently.

"It's funny…because most of my life I have been talking to portraits, it feels so…so _weird _to talk to a real person," she shook her head, "ironically for most people it is the other way around; feeling awkward talking to paintings, comfortable with people. My, what a fine mess I am." She concluded, her both sad and sarcastic. "_Amen"_ Draco thought, his attitude bittersweet. He looked at her and noted she looked more collected then before but was still shaken. She silently pursed her lips as she noticed his gaze was once again on her. She patted the cut one last time, trying to pick on any dirt that might have clung on his skin. Silence hung heavily over the two of them, and Draco sure wasn't going to try to end it. If he talked, he was sure his voice would crack. Rendezama threaded yet another needle and began to pull together the loose end of his wound. Draco winced a little; it hurt, but not terribly because of the other conflict pulsing through his brain. He lie there on his back for Merlin-knows-how-long, drowning in the guilt that was wearing him down. He couldn't help but bitterly reflect on the old expression "time heals all wounds" and just how untrue it could sometimes be.

**Sorry for any mistakes I made near the end, I'm really in a bit of a rush right now. I wanted to finish this while I had the chance though. So, what did you guys think? Reviews are greatly appreciated! (If you've written a Fanfic on here, I'm sure you know what I mean)**


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