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Post by loekie on Nov 15, 2008 4:05:38 GMT 1
Draco sighed as the door swung open. He rolled his eyes slightly as he saw the older boy trying to keep from fidgeting and he looked up at the tall pale man before them and as the older boy spoke he once again rolled his eyes. Uhg really… he wasn’t that scary. He had to admit though, the man’s attitude towards the Harry boy…
The blond raised an eyebrow as the professor ordered them in telling the other boy of for doing something to the small boy. He frowned. The raven-haired hadn’t done anything right? He then saw the indignant look come across the other boy’s face and smiled inwardly. His godfather was getting to the boy and for some reason that gave him a bit a satisfaction.
Then the tall guy turned to the boy and as him how old he was. The boy narrowed his eyes “you were at the party” he said confused slightly “I turned 6” he then replied haughty.
Snape frowned slightly and then nodded “of course I was” he replied trying to wrap his brain around this all. Draco looked up confused again, but letting it go.
The potions professor shook his head slightly. He had been missing a potion earlier, and since he had already suspected Draco from stealing a dreamless-sleep potion or two. He had meant to confront the boy about it, had intend to make him understand how dangerous that stuff could be, but it had just never really come of it. Also because he could guess why. Sure Draco had never spoken to him about his home-situation, but Snape was no fool and had been friends with Lucius for a long time. He had just never actually had a chance to talk to him about it. He sighed inwardly. Some godfather he was… he hadn’t gotten back until a few days before the new term and hadn’t heard about Dumbledore assigning Lucius as a teacher.
He could imagine why but had had his concerns on what it might mean for his the young teen. He turned to the young boy “Draco what do you remember doing before you woke up here” he asked in a, for him, gentle tone.
The blond boy had followed his godfather further into the room and looked around curiously his eyes taking everything in. He loved magic and potions and right now was just in his element. His head snapped up immediately back to attention “I…. I was reading in my room” he answered his godfather “has father already been here?” he asked his grey eyes meeting the man’s black ones.
Snape sighed “yes Draco, he is looking for you” he answered for some reason feeling sorry for the boy. The potion-master had only just now realized how much he had underestimated the problem. He knelt down beside the boy “it’s going to be alright” he assured making sure not to come too close. He knew the boy didn’t trust him. Never truly had. But again, that was not the issue at hand. He straightened back up turning to the teen in the room.
“Potter, have you told anyone of this yet?” he asked his dark eyes on the boys’ intently before heading down to his cabinet “I don’t have the anti-serum yet” he sighed under his breath while Draco now narrowed his eyes “Sev, what’s going on?” he demanded watching his godfather rummage through a cabinet full of vials.
Snape turned around “Draco… sit down” he said before now turning to the raven-haired “might as well sit down as well Potter, since I’m sure I’m not going to get you to leave without explaining” he sighed really not in the mood for this. He however didn’t see how he had another choice and an explanation was in order…
Snape sighed rubbing his chin while thinking where to start “Draco… you’re not truly 6 years old, you are actually 15. There was a potion in the cabinet that I was experimenting with…” he started to explain “apparently you have been stealing potions from my cabinet… since I have been missing potion every now and then for a while now. I however had not anticipated you coming down as soon and forgotten all about it since it needed quit some more work until it was finished” he then added “and well… the result is what we now see here” he finished.
The blond frowned confused… “but… I… I’m not 15” he then protested “I was in my room reading and …..” he started but then gave up… if his godfather said so… who was he to argue? He shrugged running a hand through his hair. This was just too much for him to take and truth be told… he really didn’t care. He was getting slightly tired.
Snape sat down deep in thought… what was he going to do? He didn’t have the anti-serum and it would take at least a month or so to make one… He was just thinking on how he could keep the blond boy away from his father for that long… Maybe he should have a talk with Lucius? Damn it. There was nothing he could do. He couldn’t draw to much attention to himself. Lucius knew him, and if he’d arise suspicion his whole mission could be in danger, and now more then ever it could prove most important that it was carried out right….
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Post by plzkthnks on Nov 15, 2008 7:25:41 GMT 1
Malfoy narrowed his eyes at Snape, saying, "You were at the party."
It sounded more like an accusation than anything else—and then his voice resembled the arrogant one Harry remembered.
"I turned six."
Well, he had guessed right, apparently. Six or seven. Apparently, six. He looked away, to Snape, surveying his reaction, as if his lie would be written across his face. He knew it wouldn't be. Snape was too good of an actor. Supposedly. Harry still didn't trust him. A frow marred the Potion Master's face and he nodded, looking very much in thought, as if he was taking Malfoy's story in.
"Of course I was," he said, earning a confused look from Malfoy. Harry tried to hide his own confusion, and it didn't seem hard, considering it was covered by uneasiness, but he had always been told he wore his heart on his sleeve. What was it that Malfoy called him? A typical matyr. Snape looked back at Malfoy but a minute later, asking what he remembered doing, and Harry wondered if there was the slight chance this wasn't a trick. If something had really happened to Malfoy to turn him back into a six year old. It wasn't too far fetched, considering what Harry had seen, but still... he refused to put that much faith in Malfoy and Snape. Malfoy, whose eyes had been wandering, instantly went back to Snape.
"I... I was reading in my room," answered Malfoy, "has father already been here?"
There was something in that question—it pulled at Harry, as if there was something he was missing. He chalked it off as his imagination again, though the suspicion was still there. Had or hadn't Malfoy seen his father in the corridor? It seemed unlikely that he had, considering he had kept quiet, but—Harry swallowed, looking back at Snape. He felt sort of like he was watching a game of tennis, his eyes going back and forth between the players.
Snape audibly sighed.
"Yes, Draco, he is looking for you," said Snape gently, moving forward. Harry's eyes moved to Malfoy's face. He seemed visibly wary—his eyes tightened again, and Harry wondered why he had never noticed those subtle signs. Maybe they no longer existed in him—and maybe he was noticing now, because he had grown so accustomed to Malfoy's reactions. It was strange to see anything else besides the anger and attitude. Or maybe, he had been alone too long, and he suffered from an over-active imagination. Snape stopped short from touching the boy, and Harry remembered the frightened look he had been given when he touched Malfoy. What was going on? "It's going to be alright."
Harry couldn't see how anything coming out of Snape's mouth would be reassuring, to anyone, even though that's clearly how it was meant to come across. He straightened, turning to Harry, and Harry meant his eyes with a hard look of his own. So many suspicions. He was going to be the next Moody if he didn't watch it.
"Potter, have you told anyone of this yet?"
Lie, or not to lie?
If he told the truth, that he had in fact not told anyone else, he risked being even easier prey. No one would know where he went—and if he lied, and said that he had told someone, then a) Malfoy would probably rat him out and b) on the odd chance he didn't, their life would be in danger to. He swallowed.
"No, sir, I didn't."
Snape nodded, mumbling something under his breath that Harry didn't quite catch, the fire popping across the room. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, his eyes moving to Malfoy and then back again. Snape was moving across the room now, toward a sort of cabinet, and Malfoy's tone was accusing.
"Sev, what's going on?"
Snape turned.
"Draco... sit down," he said, turning to Harry. Harry could visibly see the change in him, and he again resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Might as well sit down as well, Potter, since I'm sure I'm not going to get you to leave without explaining."
Harry swallowed, shaking his head.
"No thanks," he said, as politely as he could manage. "I'd rather stand."
Snape gave him a pointed look, a sharp Potter coming from his lips, and Harry realized he didn't really have a choice. Hesitantly, he moved toward the sofa beside Malfoy, sitting delicately on the edge. Hey, who knew? Some of Snape's slime could have dripped onto the sofa, ready and waiting to grab unsuspecting victims at any given moment. He'd prefer to remain as uncontaminated as possible, thanks. He already needed a long shower. He listened to Snape talk in silence, his eyes flickering from the floor to the fire. He tensed a bit at the information that Malfoy had been sneaking potions out of his cabnet—what for? And if Snape had known, why hadn't he said anything? Oh, that's right. Malfoy was his favorite. Well, that's what he got for playing favorites.
When Snape was finished, Harry's eyes moved to Malfoy.
He frowned, looking genuinely confused.
"But... I... I'm not fifteen," he said, "I was in my room reading and..." he trailed off, his confusion melting a bit. Harry tuned back to Snape, who was obviously in thought. He knew he probably shouldn't talk until he was spoken to, but—he had already lost his house twenty points they didn't have. Who was counting?
"Professor," Harry started softly, forcing the word out between his teeth. "Don't you have an antidote?"
Snape raised his dark eyes to Harry's, his brow raised, incredulous. His tone was more than slightly patronizing, and Harry narrowed his eyes in return.
"I said experimental for a reason, Potter. Don't be a fool."
Snape knew he shoudn't take this out on Potter—if he had said something before, when he had first noticed. Done what he could to protect Draco, instead of letting the boy take it into his own hands... but Potter was such an easy target, and the truth of the matter was, even if he had said something to Draco, would it have stopped?
"We're going to Dumbledore with this then, right?"
Harry didn't care if it proved Snape's point.
Snape nodded, a slight wrinkle forming between his eyes.
"Of course," he snapped, despite the look of thought across his face. He didn't really have a choice, did he? Maybe Dumbledore could keep him safe. But he doubted it. Lucius worked there now, he was going to find out eventually—besides, it was his parental right or some rubbish. With an inward sigh, Snape moved toward the fireplace, floo-calling Dumbledore.
Harry's eyes followed Snape and at the sound of him calling Dumbledore, he felt a bit more reassured, but he was hardly relaxed. He looked over at Malfoy. He looked... tired. Harry felt a little bit of satisfaction in that. That this was having a toll on Malfoy. Served him right for being an idiot. Even he knew not to go drinking unmarked vials, but then, surely Malfoy's arrogance had gotten in the way of his common sense, hadn't it? Still, Malfoy looked so tiny and weak, as if he were going to fall over at any moment, and Harry (carefully, with as little contact as possible) grabbed a throw pillow from the other side of the sofa, handing it to the boy without a word. He looked back at Snape, trying to dismiss the action as some parental gesture he was bound to inherit sooner or later.
"Dumbledore's on his way," Snape said quietly, his face resigned. His dark eyes surveyed Harry for a moment, and Harry automatically stiffened, not entirely sure he liked the look he was being given. "Tell me, Potter, where did you find him? And what happened on your way down here? You're sure no one saw you?"
Harry eyed him carefully.
He'd much rather answer these questions with Dumbledore present, but again, Harry wasn't sure he had a choice. Snape's eyes moved to Malfoy, lingering on the throw pillow, before returning to Harry. Harry was looking down at the floor.
"I found him outside of Gryffindor tower," he said finally, looking up. "Nothing happened, really. I wanted to take him to the Hospital Wing, but he wouldn't let me. He wouldn't go to Dumbledore, either. He was dead-set on coming here. In the hallway... we hid behind a statue as someone passed."
Snape narrowed his eyes.
"Someone?"
Harry shrugged, trying to look nonchalant.
"Yeah, someone."
A slight sneer twisted Snape's feature. Potter had an obvious tell.
"Who, Potter? Careful."
Harry looked away. Bloody Slytherins.
Rolling his jaw, he said, "Malfoy. Malfoy senior."
Snape inwardly grimanced. If Lucius already knew—"You're sure he didn't see you?"
Harry gave him an incredulous look.
"Of course I'm sure," he said, not even trying to hide his disbelief this time. It was his turn. "You really think Malfoy would just walk away if he saw me hiding behind a statue with his son? Even if he didn't see Malfoy—I doubt he'd resist the urge to deduct a few points, maybe throw in a detention or two."
He bit back the phrase, 'Don't be a fool.'
Snape hated to admit it—and trust me, he hated to admit it—but Potter had a point.
"Very well," he said finally, sinking down into a chair. His eyes moved back to Draco, and his expression softened considerably. "How are you feeling, Draco?"
((Sorry if this post suddenly stopped making sense somewhere toward the end, love. Exhaustion hit me half way through.
I figured we could do the same thing we're doing with Snape, with Dumbledore, when he comes into play. Unless you'd rather I play him. That's fine, too.))
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Post by loekie on Nov 15, 2008 22:32:19 GMT 1
((it’s fine hun… I know how it is… and no it’s fine… we’ll do the same with Dumbledore as with Snape))
The blond boy looked between his godfather and the other boy. He wondered why the teen hesitated before answering if he had told anyone. He leaned back on the couch and when the raven-haired eventually reluctantly joined him on the couch he rolled his eyes. Was he still scared? It didn’t make any sense, but then again… none of this did really.
“Don’t you have an antidote?” the boy asked and the blond raised an eyebrow. Hadn’t the raven-haired been listening? “I said experimental for a reason Potter, don’t be a fool” came his godfather’s annoyed reply and the blond figured he must have been thinking the same thing.
“We’re going to Dumbledore with this, right?” the teen’s voice came again and the boy’s head snapped up… why? He would send him back to his father wouldn’t he? When Snape confirmed this the blond sighed in surrender. There was nothing he could do about it as Snape was already Floo-calling the headmaster. The blond frowned as the boy next to him gave a pillow. He eventually took it and not caring about what was going on around him, he nestled himself on the couch rolling up into a small ball so he wouldn’t come over his half of the couch and layed his head against the pillow.
His godfather spoke again telling them the headmaster was on his way and asking Potter where exactly he’d found him and if anyone had seen them. The blond sensed the other boy stiffening up and give a negative reply. Which was true. If his father had seen him, he would have taken him home.
There was a little banter between the two in the room when the teen finally told the potion-master that it had been his father that had come by when they were hiding and that he was sure Malfoy senior hadn’t seen them.
When the older man spoke his name once again he lifted his head and shrugged “I’m fine” he simply replied, and truth be told, he did… just slightly tired, but hey, it had been a lot for the small child to take in. He leaned back down on the pillow.
Snape shook his head slightly. He wondered how long they could keep the boy from Lucius… 1 day, maybe two, then Lucius was sure to find out where his son was, and they couldn’t stop him from take Draco back home and do whatever the bloody git wanted. He turned back to the other boy about to say something when Dumbledore stepped from the fireplace looking around the room with the familiar twinkle in his eye.
“Hello ma’boy” he greeted Harry and then watched the scene before him. Harry sitting on the edge of the couch next to a small child that had curled himself into a small ball and Severus on a nearby chair.
The potion-master rose to his feet “Albus” he greeted walking towards the headmaster. He had a few things he needed to discuss. Albus looked at the younger man before him “what happed Severus” he asked kindly his soft eyes on the potion-professor.
Snape sighed slightly “it is as I feared Albus, it was Draco who took the potions I missed” he started “after I returned a few days ago I didn’t get a chance to work on the experiment. Draco must have taken it by mistake” the man sighed shaking his head.
Dumbledore raised an eyebrow rubbing his chin thoughtfully “this presents a problem. Well, I suppose we should inform Lucius of the situation” the older wizard suggested.
Snape shook his head slightly “no Albus, not yet. I think that too might be worse then I ever imagined” he sighed running a hand through his hair. Dumbledore nodded. The younger man had come too his office one time expressing his concerns about young mister Malfoy however at that moment they had decided it wasn’t urgent and that it would be better for the potion-professor to stay focused at trying to get information on Voldemort. Right now though Snape whished he had given his gut feeling a little more attention.
Dumbledore gave the other man a wry smile “you couldn’t have known Severus” he said kindly “but we cannot keep the boy from Lucius for long” Dumbledore sighed and Severus nodded slightly “I know..” he agreed “but let’s keep him out of it for now.
Dumbledore nodded and they both turned back to the two boys on the couch. The blond boy frowned slightly lifting his head as he saw the old man come through the fireplace. That was Dumbledore? He narrowed his eyes as his godfather and the old man started conversing right out of earshot. The boy was almost certain that they were talking about him, and that made him uncomfortable. He really didn’t like being the center of attention. He tried listening in, but couldn’t really make out what they were saying.
When they turned their attention back to them Dumbledore smiled at the small boy “welcome to Hogwarts Draco” he said kindly. Draco looked up “thank you sir…” he responded unsure what to make of all this sudden kindness that he wasn’t used to. “This must all be quit confusing” he smiled “but we’ll sort it out” he promised. Draco looked up once more and nodded slightly “alright…” he responded “are you going to get my father?” the boy asked matter-of-factly but couldn’t help the uneasy feeling he had inside… if they were going to go to his father….
Dumbledore forced a smile. He really didn’t want to cause the kid any more issues, but he had no choice “not quit yet” he replied “but he will probably be worried and want you to stay with him.
The blond almost burst out laughing… his father… worried… about him? Hardly… but the bond kept his expression blank and nodded “of course” he replied leaning back in the sofa….
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Post by plzkthnks on Nov 16, 2008 0:33:31 GMT 1
For the most part, they waited in silence for Dumbledore. Harry was perfectly content with keeping his own thoughts to himself, thank you very much. Definitely when it came to Snape. They had never had one of those sharing relationships, and Harr was in no hurry to start one up now. Especially considering anything he said would probably go right to Voldemort. So instead, Harry stared into the firepit in moody silence, wondering if it would be inappropriate to mention his concerns about the older Malfoy when Dumbledore got there. Not that he really cared or anything. It seemed like eternity had passed, stuffed in Snape's smelly quarters before Dumbledore arrived. Harry couldn't help the relief that washed over him at the sight of the man stepping through the fireplace. Looks like it wasn't a trick afterall. Well, that was good... he guessed.
"Hello ma'boy," greeted Dumbledore, a slight smile hiding beneath his beard.
Harry answered with one of his own, his relief still very apparent.
"Professor Dumbledore."
Moments later, Dumbledore was all business again, talking quietly with Snape near the fireplace. Ocassionally, they would glance in Malfoy's direction, and Harry had to strain to hear what they were talking about. Snape talked much more quietly than Dumbledore, clearly aware of him listening. Dumbledore, on the other hand, didn't seem to mind as much. Either way, Harry was careful to keep his eyes on the floor, taking everything they said in quietly. So Dumbledore knew about the experiment—that was odd. He wondered what it was for. Voldemort, maybe? He swallowed. That couldn't be good. And then they switched topics, ever so subtly, and Harry gathered they were talking about the older Malfoy, Lucius.
Snape sounded guilty.
Was there more that he had known about Malfoy? Besides the fact that he had been sneaking potions out of his cabinet?
Harry couldn't explain the anger he felt at that. Malfoy obviously looked up to Snape. Why hadn't he ever stepped in to help? Bloody coward.
Dumbledore turned his attention to the younger Malfoy, who was curled up in the corner of the sofa with the throw pillow Harry had handed him. They exchanged a few words, and again, Harry took them in quietly, startled when a sharp knock sounded on the door.
Snape's dark eyes caught on his.
"I thought you said no one saw you, Potter," said Snape, his voice low, accusing, and Dumbledore gave him a small smile, silencing him before Harry could reply.
"I do believe you should answer the door, Severus," he said pleasantly, "before you go jumping to conclusions."
Snape gave Dumbledore a slightly curious look, one that Harry was sure was mirrored on his own face, and Dumbledore simply smiled, moving across the room to sit in the armchair closest to Malfoy. Snape knew better than to question him, and, sending one last dark look in Harry's direction, headed toward the door. Putting on his best sneer, he opened it, his dark eyes narrowing dangerously as they met a pair of brown ones.
To say Hermione looked surprised would be an understatement. She hadn't expected him to actually answer the door. Come to think of it, she really wasn't sure why she knocked—something had just told her to—and she hoped she wasn't to late. With the Marauder map tucked behind her, beneath her shirt, Hermione couldn't be sure if Harry was still there—but she had seen him, had known he was here.. and with the mood he was in earlier, Hermione had grown worried. She tried looking into Snape's quarters, past him, but he moved, blocking her sight. She forced out as polite of a smile as she could manage, her words coming out in a rush.
"I'm sorry to bother you at this hour, Sir, but I was wondering—is Harry here?"
Harry sat up a little further at the sound of Hermione's voice, only remaining seated due to the look Dumbledore was giving him. He tried looking out the door past Snape, but he couldn't see that far.
Snape scowled.
"I don't know what you're trying to imply, Granger, but I can assure you, I've not kidnapped your precious Potter—I suggest you leave before—"
"Severus," called Dumbledore, his voice just as pleasant as before, "do show Hermione in, won't you?"
Hermione was more than a little relieved at the sound of Dumbledore's voice. If he was there, then that meant Harry was okay. Snape scowled at her and she gave him a bright smile back, triumph shining in her eyes as he albiet hesitantly stepped from the doorway, motioning her in. He shut the door quietly behind her, mumbling something beneath his breath that sounded very much like, stupid good for nothing Gryffindors. He fixed his gaze on Harry again, shooting daggers at him. He didn't like it when he was lied to, and as Potter had sworn no one had seen him, and here Granger was, he had obviously been lied to. Hermione moved forward, keeping her composure, though she was sure her relief was written all over her face.
Harry smiled at her, pointedly ignoring Snape and the dirty look he was being given and said, "Hey 'Mione."
Hermione smiled back, slightly apologetic. Now that she knew he was safe, she felt like a bit of a fool. Why hadn't she checked to see if anyone else was there before she had knocked?
"Harry."
He wondered how she had found him, though he had some ideas. The Marauder map, he was sure, though he hadn't the slightest idea how she got it. Breaking and entering, maybe? Hermione gave him a look that was clearly meant to say I'll tell you later, and turned to Dumbledore.
"Professor Dumbledore," she greeted.
"Hermione," he greeted in return, smiling behind his beard again. Snape locked his jaw.
"What is the meaning of this?" he asked abruptly, unable to keep quiet. "Why did you lie, Potter? I—"
"Severus, please," interrupted Dumbledore. Harry had to admit he was a bit glad that Severus was suddenly the one not able to get a word in edge wise. Dumbledore glanced at Harry and Hermione before looking back to Snape, making it clear he knew something that he shouldn't, and continued with, "I think what matters is that she's here now. And it's better we didn't try keeping her in the dark, wouldn't you say?"
Just as Dumbledore said this, Hermione's eyes caught on the quiet Malfoy in the corner, widening considerably.
"Oh my." She looked to Harry, and then Dumbledore. "Is that—that's Malfoy isn't it?"
Dumbledore nodded, motioning to the other arm chair.
"Please, do sit down Hermione, I believe we have some explaining to do."
Once Hermione had been filled in, Harry could just see her brain working a mile a minute. Though Potions had never been her forte, he was sure she was trying to figure out some solution, no matter how temporary. Even though he knew he should be angry that she had followed him, that she was putting herself in what she had assumed to be daner, he couldn't be. He was only relieved. Relieved that he didn't have to hide this from her—relieved that he still had a friend, even though he had been being a right git over the past few weeks, and relieved that Hermione had come by herself. He could just see what Ron's reaction would have been to all of this. He probably would have tried strangling Malfoy on spot. Easy target and all that, being six instead of fifteen. Hermione smiled suddenly, her eyes bright with an idea. She looked to Dumbledore.
"Sir?" she started, her eyes moving to Malfoy and back, "You're trying to keep this a bit of a secret, aren't you?"
Dumbledore nodded, perfectly content with listening to what ever Hermione had to say.
Snape, on the other hand—Harry could just see the smoke coming from his ears. He was utterly fuming over it.
"Well, he obviously can't go back to the Slytherin dormitories. And staying here—surely it would be one of the first places Malfoy looked? What about the Room of Requirement? Or even the Gryffindor commons? I mean, I know Malfoy has to be updated soon, as this is his son, but wouldn't he'd be safer there, anyway? I don't imagine the other Slytherins would be too fond of—"
Snape audibly snorted.
"Safer?" he asked, a bit incredulous, "With a bunch of Gryffindors? Right. You might as well sentence him to his death, Dumbledore."
Dumbledore looked to Snape, nearly expressionless, and shook his head.
"Your concerns are noted, Severus, but let's here what all Hermione has to say, hmm?"
Snape scowled. And people accused him of playing favorites? As much as he didn't want to admit it, Lucius was going to have to find out soon. They couldn't keep Draco from him, as he and Narcissa were the biological parents and therefore had complete rights over him, when compared to the school. Unless Draco was in danger, which Snape was fairly certain was the case—but even then, what were they to do? They had no proof. They coudn't press charges. Snape was the only one with any sort of eye-witness testimony that he knew of, but he was out of the question, less he loose his cover with the Dark Lord, and as much as he wanted to keep Draco safe... it was out of the question.
Hermione's smile brightened.
"As I was saying," she continued, ignoring the interruption as well as she could, "I know the Gryffindor commons might prove to be just as dangerous. But I'm a Prefect, as is Harry—we have our own rooms. Couldn't he stay with one of us?"
Dumbledore seemed to consider this, much to Snape's dismay. And to Harry's, too, really. He wasn't particularily fond of the idea of having to play Malfoy's baby sitter. Even though it was still strange to think of this boy as Malfoy, Malfoy had gotten himself in this mess. Let him get himself out of it. Still, a small part of him knew Hermione was right. He sighed, glancing over at Malfoy before looking back to Dumbledore, who was looking at him with bright eyes.
"Harry?" Dumbledore questioned, his voice quiet, "What do you say? Would you be willing to look after young Malfoy?"
Snape scowled a bit.
"You can't be serious, Dumbledore—Potter would be just as likely to hurt him as—"
Dumbledore silenced him with his hand, but the words hung in the air between the two as if they had been spoken. As his father. Hermione watched the two with interest, shooting Harry a curious look out of the corner of his eye, and Harry shrugged, thinking. He looked back at Malfoy, wondering what Snape was going to say. As who? The Slytherins? His father? Harry couldn't see either of them hurting Malfoy, really, no matter what Hermione had said, no matter what Dumbledore and Snape had said to each other earlier. They were his friends, weren't they? His family? He sighed. He looked so helpless, curled in a ball like that. His expression was calm, resembling less of the older Malfoy than it ever had. He looked peaceful, and Harry found it even harder to connect this boy with the one he had grown to hate over the years.
"Harry?" Dumbledore probed, his smile gentle. "It's completely up to you. Don't feel pressured."
Harry looked back at him, silent.
He wanted to say no. He wanted to say he'd be leaving now, that Malfoy could sort out his own mess, and he didn't give a rat's arse about what happened to him.
Instead, he found himself saying, "Sure. I mean, it'll only be for a little while, right? A day or two?"
Dumbledore nodded, "To my knowledge—but that might change. Are you sure?"
It wasn't too late. He could still back out. Yell, shout, throw something, even. His expression was resigned though, as if he had already given in.
"Yeah. I guess so. I.." he looked back over at Malfoy, and then at Hermione, who was looking at him with a smile, clearly proud, "I won't hurt him."
He looked to Snape, and then Dumbledore. He couldn't believe he was saying this, even though he knew it was true before it had even came out of his mouth.
"I promise."
Dumbledore smiled, clearly pleased, though Snape still looked like he wanted to object. He looked away from Harry and to Malfoy, leaning forward a bit to talk to the boy, his expression gentle, meant to reassure.
"What do you say Draco? Is that okay? Do you mind staying with Harry for a bit?"
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Post by loekie on Nov 16, 2008 2:52:16 GMT 1
The blond boy had given up on listening in on the conversation between the two men. The boy ignored it mostly. He had already guessed that his godfather had figured things out by now and there was no use in denying it anymore.. to the potion-master anyway. But for now he could simply pretend it was all still a secret and nothing of this was happening. What was he going to do? His father would find him sooner or later. He sighed closing his eyes. This was going to hell… He opened his eyes slowly as there was another knock on the door. For a slight second panic rushed over him… had his father come back? When however he thought about it, the knock was too soft to be his fathers. He calmed down and smiled inwardly at how this old guy simply interrupted his godfather as he went of on the other boy once more.
He saw his godfather grumble but eventually he went to answer the door. He looked up mildly curious as to whom this latecomer could be. He frowned as the potion-master spoke to whomever was visiting. He could hear it was a girl though
“I don't know what you're trying to imply, Granger, but I can assure you, I've not kidnapped your precious Potter… I suggest you leave before…” the greasy-haired man growled but was once again interrupted by the headmaster and the blond, even though Snape had his back turned towards him, could just imagine the look on the man’s face and it almost made him laugh.
A bushy haired brunette entered and the looks the raven-haired boy received from his godfather were priceless. The teen seemed to ignore them though and the two greeted each-other. The boy wondered if they might be dating or something… but it was none of his concern. He gave the girl a once-over as she too was now taking him in… why did they all have to stare at him like that… like he was a price or something. He really didn’t like it.
The old man spoke again making the brunette sit down and while the whole story was explained once again he barely paid any attention. He had instantly sensed the brunette wasn’t all magic. A mud-blood, his father would say, and his father had told him exactly what he thought of them and the blond had quickly learned his lesson. Right now though he didn’t have a choice. He watched Snape as he was physically trying to restrain himself when the brunette was talking.
He was in Slytherin? Well. That was a relieve. She thought it wouldn’t be safe for him there? When she suggested the room of requirements or the Gryffindor rooms as safer option Snape couldn’t keep quiet and the boy couldn’t agree more. He had learned all about house rivalry and how the one between the Gryffindor and Slytherin house was the worst and if it weren’t the Gryffindors themselves that killed him, his father would surely not appreciate him spending time with what he considered to be the enemy and the blond was sure he’d hear all about it.
Dumbledore however silenced the potion-master once again. Apparently he wanted to hear what the girl had to say. One look on the younger man though told him that he really wasn’t in the mood, he kept quiet however.
The 15 year old version had known Snape wanted to help, but he too had figured out that his godfather was a spy and understood there was nothing the potion-master could actually do. The boy had since then spent hours perfection the act of occlumency so he was sure he could protect his secret. No matter what everyone else might believe. He was hardly thrilled about having the ‘dark lord’ return. It meant he was going to have to step up and become a deatheater soon as well, and if there was something he hated it was the thought of having to be a bloody savant for the rest of his life. The young teen however wouldn’t have a choice in the matter.
The brunette kept talking, as if nothing happened. She said he could stay with them since they were prefects, what ever the hell that meant. The blond sighed. Was he really going to be stuck with these two? And why was the teen the first to be asked if he would mind looking after him? Hmph like he wasn’t capable of looking after himself. He kept silent though until his godfather spoke again. He sent him a pointed look and was glad the headmaster again stopped the younger wizard. The last thing he needed was for everyone to know his ‘dirty little secret’ he however doubted he knew everything though, or the true extend of it all, and the blond was intend on keeping it that way.
He expression was a calm blank mask though and he simply waited as Dumbledore spoke with the boy beside him. Asking once again if he’d mind looking after him and that he shouldn’t feel pressured.
"Sure. I mean, it'll only be for a little while, right? A day or two?"
The blond sighed inwardly. Yep, it seemed like he was going to be stuck with them. Well at least it bought him some time to mentally prepare himself for the ‘butchering’ he’d be dealing with when they’d get his father involved in a day or so.
Then the raven-haired promised not to hurt him. The blond rolled his eyes. Like he was really worried about that. He’d like to see the teen try. There was probably nothing he could throw at him that he hadn’t already seen before so he couldn’t really care less, or so he tried telling himself. Truth be told. Going a few days without getting beaten or hurt actually sounded quit good to the youngster. He however didn’t want to get his hopes up.
Then his godfather kneeled down before him and he let his silver eyes meet the deep black ones of the man before him “What do you say Draco, is that okay? Do you mind staying with Harry for a bit?
The blond frowned slightly confused. He was really asking what he thought? He wanted to say no way .. no way in hell am I staying with them, but he was surprised to find himself shaking his head “it’s fine” he shrugged casually, and why would he mind. Sure she was a mudblood, but well… he really didn’t have any other option had he?
Snape rose to his feet nodding slightly his eyes dark as they set on the boy beside the blond “you better not harm him Potter” he warned his voice cold as ice full of foreboding.
Draco once again rolled his eyes. The teen didn’t have the stones to hurt somebody.
Dumbledore smiled “well, that’s settled then” he concluded satisfied. Sure he was going to have to inform Lucius soon, but this bought them some time and maybe gave the blond boy a way to prepare himself for the time he would be forced to spent in his father’s company. The old wizard sighed inwardly. He should have known. It was all becoming so clear. He watched the small boy and was amazed at how well he had already build up the walls of protection. The headmaster however knew he should have seen the signs. Should have listened to Snape when he first brought it up… but honestly. He had never believed it to be severe, or terribly urgent. Sure he knew Lucius reputation, but he had also believed Draco had been the ‘prefect Malfoy heir’. One that would get everything he wanted from he mommy and daddy. Oh how wrong he’d been.
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Post by plzkthnks on Nov 16, 2008 3:29:30 GMT 1
Harry couldn't deny the fact that he was a bit surprised when Malfoy agreed to stay with him. It shouldn't really surprise him, though. Malfoy didn't know him yet. Didn't hate him yet—and from the sounds of it, he was the better of the options Malfoy was currently presented with. Snape growled a threat at him and Harry simply stared at him, not bothering to reply. It hadn't quite caught up with him yet. The fact that Malfoy would be living with him, and because of this, he was suddenly the Harry that he had been last month. The Harry that knew he didn't really have a choice in how his life played out—the Harry that knew he had been picked for this fate before he was old enough to talk, the Harry that was just willing to lay down and take it. The one that wanted to push everyone away so they didn't get hurt. He looked away from Snape and to Dumbledore.
"Well, that's settled then," Dumbledore said. He looked at Malfoy for a little longer before moving to his feet, turning to Hermione and Harry. He looked at them over top of his half-moon spectacles, a wry grin playing across his face, causing his beard to tilt to one side. "This should go without saying, but no one else can know about this. Not yet. Not even Ron."
Especially Ron, Harry thought. Again, the image of Ron trying to strangle Malfoy popped in his head.
"Now, if you'd like to show Draco to your room, Harry? I'll have the house-elves add another bed and some clothes. I'll be in touch as soon as we figure something out."
Harry nodded, turning to Malfoy. He still looked as if he were about to fall over—but Harry was beginning to think he always looked like that. He was so tiny. Ugh. He hated kids. Hermione moved closer, smiling down at him. Apparently, she was much more willing to tough this out than Harry was, even though he had been the one that agreed. Funny. He remembered all of the names Malfoy had called her over the years—was she really so willing to forgive him? Or maybe she was smart enough, brave enough, to realize that this wasn't the same Malfoy? That it was pointless to blame him for things he wouldn't say or do until nearly five years had passed? Harry sighed, his headache returning.
He remembered what he had originally wanted to talk to Dumbledore about, but it didn't seem like his biggest worry now. Besides, surely Hermione would object. He'd have to talk to him about it tomorrow.
"Come on Draco," Hermione said lightly, kneeling down to talk to him. "Let's get you to bed, hmm?"
Harry moved to his feet, once again ignoring the looks he was being given by Snape. Hermione straightened and they waited for Malfoy to do the same—Hermione looked over at him, worrying on her lip.
"He looks out of it, maybe you should carry him?"
Harry glanced down at him.
He had the feeling Malfoy would appreciate that just about as much as he would.
"No, I think he'll manage."
Hermione clearly wanted to say something else, but didn't, and Harry was careful not to meet his gaze. His relief had melted away, now, his bitterness returning. It was going to be a long walk back. He had spent so many days building the walls between himself and Hermione and Ron—and here they were, crumbling, cracking in all of the wrong places because of one single night. Malfoy finally managed to get on his feet and they headed into the corridor, with one or two more farewell wishes from Dumbledore—and another threat from Snape. Then, they were on their way.
Hermione waited until they were on the first floor to try starting a conversation.
"Harry, how did—"
He didn't want to do this now. Not ever, really, but would he be strong enough to reconstruct his walls?
"Not now, Hermione. I'll tell you later."
She bit the inside of her cheek, clearly hesitant to believe him. He had been acting so differently. She knew that it must have been hard, watching Cedric die like that—but why wouldn't he let her help? Why wouldn't he let Ron help? They were his friends. They had been through hell and back and they weren't going to turn away now. Why was he trying to push them away? She wanted to yell at him, slap him—knock some sense into him, but she didn't. She couldn't.
She sighed.
"You promise?"
He shrugged.
"Yeah, sure."
Even he could tell she didn't believe him, but he was happy she let it go.
There was so much she wanted to say to him, but she didn't know where to start. So, most of the walk was spent in silence. Harry was obviously unwilling to have a conversation and Draco looked much too tired to put up with one—she glanced down at the boy, wondering what was going on. Why had he drank that potion? If only Harry would talk to her, give her some answers... she looked away. This was going to be hard, she knew. Harry wasn't the only one that remembered all of the things Malfoy said to her. She knew this Malfoy wasn't to blame, and yet—would she really be able to put that behind her for a while? She hoped so. Besides, maybe this was a chance for a new start. Make Malfoy see the light, so to say. She didn't know if it worked like that, but it was worth a try.
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Post by loekie on Nov 16, 2008 21:09:02 GMT 1
“Well.. That’s settled then” the headmaster commented and the blond sighed inwardly. Yeah.. great. Just his luck. The old wizard looked at the two teens in the room telling them to keep this a secret and not to even tell Ron.. whoever that was. Probably one of their friends. The boy briefly wondered why but pushed that to the back of his mind.
"Now, if you'd like to show Draco to your room, Harry? I'll have the house-elves add another bed and some clothes. I'll be in touch as soon as we figure something out” the headmaster spoke again and the boy saw the raven-haired nod and he turned to him once again. He sighed as the brunette came closer as well kneeling down in front of him “Come on Draco” she started “let’s get you to bed hmm?” she suggested. The blond frowned slightly but nodded slowly. Hey, protesting never got him anything but trouble, and well… he was tired.
When the girl suggested he was to be carried by the other boy and he looked up shaking his head. “No I think he’ll manage” came the reply and the blond breathed a slight sigh of relieve. He nodded and rose to his feet and listened to the farewells that was being said.
They then went on their way back through the corridor and up the stairs. The girl started to as a question, but was cut of by the other boy. The blond was slightly confused. It was obvious though, that the raven-haired had tried to close himself of from her.. and probably his other friends as well. Hmph… amateur. It was sooo obvious. Ah well… practise made perfect, or so they said. He wondered why the boy would do that, since it was clear he hadn’t started too long ago. ‘Fool’ the blond thought as he sensed the boys doubt. You either did it, or not, but you had to make a choice.
The girl seemed hurt.. but eventually she let it go with a “promise?” the boy blew this of as well with a “yeah sure…”. The blond smirked inwardly… yeah right.. The girl didn’t believe it as well… but again let it slide. The youngster had the idea though, that she would be discussing this later. She then looked at the blond again and he raised a questioning eyebrow. He however kept quiet and the rest of the walk was in silence. When they finally reached the quarters the two teen shared.
They walked in through the portrait hole. He looked around curiously as to where he would spent the next day or so. His eyes took in the room they entered in. It was rather small, but more then big enough for two people. There was a large fireplace in the middle of the room and there were two couches and two armchairs in the centre of the room with a table in the middle with a few books stacked on it, probably the girl’s he deducted.
He heard rummaging in what he assumed was one of the bedrooms. The house-elves, the boy thought and he looked between his two companions thinking he would give them some time to work out whatever issues they were having. Besides he was just tired and therefore he simply wanted to go to bed. He walked towards the room and headed inside. The elves had already finished and had left. He walked over to the bed which had obviously just been put there. At least they had thought of a pyjama and so he changed out of his cloths and crawled under the covers closing his eyes, but even though he was exhausted, sleep didn’t come as easily as the boy had thought. He tossed and turned a few times until his mind finally calmed down enough to be able to let him drift of to sleep.
The last thought before his mind drifted of the dreamland was about how strange this day had been. At first he was at the manor ordered to stay in his room to read a few books and the next he woke up on a cold floor that just happened to be the castle of the school he’d be attending in a few years. Then learning that he actually hadn’t been at home but had sneaked a potion out of his godfather’s office.
The blond sighed slightly before eventually giving into the sleep the clouded his mind and he fell into a restless slumber. His sleep however was plagued by nightmares and memories the blond boy rather just forget about, but could never really completely escape, if only because his dreams just wouldn’t let him. He however did not toss and turn like normal people. To the outside world there were no signs that the blond was anything but in a peaceful sleep. Hs exterior was the same icy shell it always was…
((sorry this is soo crap.. but I posted this quickly before I went on my way home))
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Post by plzkthnks on Nov 17, 2008 1:03:05 GMT 1
Harry was glad that Hermione didn't try again at a conversation. He knew he needed to push her away—but he was just so tired and he didn't know if he had the strength right then. It was hard, pretending not to care. More work than he would have thought. Soon, they were outside of the prefect quarters. Hermione mumbled the password and the portrait swung open—Malfoy headed in first, then Hermione, and finally he followed. Malfoy looked around for but a moment, practically making a beeline for the bedroom. Luckily, he headed into the right one. The invisible barrier around Hermione's bedroom, stopping anyone going in there without her permission was quite the pain.
Harry stared after Malfoy, knowing that he should give the boy a few moments to get settled, and dreading that fact. Because, predictably, just moments after the door shut behind him, Hermione turned to him.
"Now tell me what's going on, Harry," she started softly, her voice pleasant. Harry wasn't fooled. He knew she wasn't about to take a no as easily this time. Still, that's what he gave her anyway.
"Tomorrow, 'Mione. It's been a long day."
Hermione sighed, frowning. He was right. She wasn't about to drop it that quickly this time. Her voice was soft, deliberate—she didn't want him to shut her down this time.
"This is about Cedric, isn't it? About last year? Harry, Ron and I are worried about you. We want—"
Harry shook his head, interrupting before she had a chance to go on. He knew what she wanted to say. And he knew he didn't want to hear it.
"I don't want to talk about it, Hermione."
Hermione gave him an exasperated look, her voice a bit louder than before.
"Harry! You can't just run away from your problems."
He nearly laughed. Oh, he knew that. He had tried—and he knew he couldn't. He didn't need Hermione telling him that. He gave Hermione a careless shrug, turning away slightly, toward his room.
"I'm not running away, Hermione, but it's just that. They're my problems. So butt out."
He turned around and she caught him by the arm.
Her voice was almost desperate.
"You can't mean that. You know we're in this together—"
He turned around, his eyes flashing.
"No. No, we're not. You didn't have some homicidal Wizard murder your parents when your parents—" because of you— "you don't have to meet that man again and again, trying to save someone you care about—you didn't have to watch him kill someone—" again, because of you— "you didn't have to—"
Hermione waved her hand in the air, unable to just let him continue like that. He was right, but only to a certain point. He wasn't the only one that was being punished because of who he was. She was, too. Her entire family was at risk now, because of her. Because of her friendship with Harry and, worse yet, because she was born. Because she was what some liked to call a mudblood, someone that shouldn't exist, not in this world.
"That's right, Harry! I didn't have to. Instead, I was paralyzed, turned into stone. Instead, I was nearly attacked by a werewolf. Instead, I—"
Harry shook his head bitterly. It wasn't the same. He had to live with the fact that his entire existence put others at risk. Voldemort wouldn't stop until he was dead, and even then—those he cared about would still be punished. Voldemort would never stop unless Harry won, unless Harry killed him. The entire Wizarding world was depending on him to be a murderer. The only thing he could do, in attempts to protect those he cared about, should he fail, was push them away. Not care. Maybe if he didn't care—maybe if they weren't involved, they'd have a fighting chance at escaping. Pulling his arm from her grasp, he stalked toward the bedroom.
Hermione sighed. This was her last chance—at least then. She could tell he was shutting her down, ignoring her now, and her voice turned pleading.
"Don't walk away from this! Don't walk away from me, Harry. I only want to help you."
Harry didn't even hesitate outside of the bedroom, opening the door and ducking inside, shutting the door quietly behind him. Hermione stared after him, angrily wiping at her eyes as they burned with unshed tears. She hated seeing him distance himself like that. He couldn't do this alone. Why couldn't he see that?
Adrenaline coursed through his veins, anger wrapping around his heart, and Harry was relieved to find Malfoy already in bed, tucked beneath his covers. He didn't want to deal with the Slytherin right then. One smart word would probably be all it took for Harry to go back on his promise right then.
The room looked considerably smaller with the added bed, but Harry didn't really mind. He was used to small spaces. Closing the door quietly behind him again, Harry lingered there, looking at Malfoy for a moment. His eyes took a minute to adjust. Malfoy's expression was peaceful again, his arrogance melting away into his sleep. His eyelids would flutter ocassionally and his breathing was soft, steady, and Harry knew he was already out. Harry half-wished he could be so silent when he slept. You see, Harry often had nightmares. Well, to be more specific, he often had a nightmare. It varied, sometimes, but the jest of it was always the same. He was always running, trying to save someone or something, but unable to get there in time.
He sighed, quietly shuffling over to his bed. Grabbing his pyjamas, he ducked into the bathroom and changed, working hard to keep his face expressionless and mind blank. If he could just get that down—maybe it wouldn't be so hard. Maybe he could just go through the motions like before, when he was at his Aunt and Uncle's that summer. Vaguely, he wondered how Malfoy did it... acted so indifferent about everything, all of the time, but he quickly dismissed the thought. He was an apathetic git, that's how.
He headed to bed, climbing quietly beneath his covers. Setting his glasses on the bedside table, he closed his eyes, waiting for his nightmare to come.
Minutes passed, time trickling away in the back of his mind until it was of no revelance.
The branches whipped against his skin and grabbed at his clothes, as if they, too, were trying to hold him back. He nearly tripped over a fallen log but caught himself just in time, barely, and quickly pushed himself off of the tree, giving himself an extra burst of speed. His ankle throbbed—he knew he had twisted it, but the pain was pushed into the back of his mind. If only he could get there in time, save him before it was too late—no. His eyes burned, brought on by a combination of the wind and his tears. He wouldn't think about that. It wasn't going to be too late. He'd get there. He'd save him.
Save who?
Some part of his mind was aware that he was dreaming, and the question echoed through the dream, but slipped away as if he were trying to hold water in his hands. He knew this dream—but it was different. He had a purpose, he knew he did, he just couldn't put a name to it.
He tripped again, this time falling to the ground, sliding across the forest floor and scraping his hands. He was bleeding now, but again, the pain was pushed into the back of his mind. He wondered how much it could hold. His ribs throbbed, a twinge of excrutiating pain surging through his body, almost crippling him, a silent reminder. Harry set his jaw, finally noticing that he had been cradling his abdomen with one hand, feeling very much like he was about to fall apart at the seams. He continued running.
And then the ground was pulled out from underneath him, sending him into a dark spiral. Colors flashed around him, disorienting him, and no matter how much he tried, he couldn't shut his eyes. A laugh sounded, twisted and high, and his entire body was racked with pain. He was falling and falling and—he hit the ground with a hollow thud. His heart hesitated, skipped a beat, and he should have woken up—if you die in your dreams, don't you die in real life, too? The thought was just a glimmer though and disappeared as quickly as it had came. He was consumed by the dream again, unable to think of anything but what was happening right then. He couldn't breath. His heart pounded painfully in his chest, so loud—and his lungs tightened. He was choking. It felt like he was suffocating and drowning at the same time—something cold and unwanted slid down his throat, settling into a dull burn somewhere by his heart. His entire body was on fire.
Such pain—oh god, he wondered if this was what it was like to die.
His eyes were forced open and the pain faded.
It was dark again, but he could make out the tall hedges on either side of him—no, they weren't hedges. They were tombstones.
He hurried to his feet, deja vu crashing over him.
A circle of men appeared, dressed in dark robes, blending into the night—a flash of metal caught his eye and then there was that laugh again...
He looked past the source, to another—a flash of blond hair, followed by a green light. The man screamed, but the scream was cut short and Harry watched as the body fell limp to the side. He was paralyzed, unable to take his eyes off of the pair of unseeing grey—he screamed and woke with a start.
He was choking again, and something pulled at his legs—he kicked at it and sat up, pushing the pillow away from his face. His scream had been muffled by it and he swallowed hard, unable to rid himself of the stiff, dry taste. His head throbbed and slowly, the room came into focus. He let out a hard, shaking sigh, his eyes instantly darting to the bed beside his. He could just make out Malfoy's tiny form beneath the covers—he looked sound asleep and for that Harry was greatful. He didn't think Malfoy would ask what was wrong, but either way, he didn't want to risk a conversation. Hesitantly, Harry laid down again, staring blankly at the ceiling, knowing in full that he would get no more sleep that night.
For what wasn't the first time, he was thankful for his apparent insomnia.
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Post by loekie on Nov 17, 2008 2:40:20 GMT 1
The minutes before the blond fell asleep he heard the two other’s talk in the room next door. They were fighting, or so it seemed. He couldn’t really care. It were their issues not his. When he finally did fall asleep though memories came flooding back.
A tall blond woman stood in the middle of a large lounge her silver eyes on another pair of silver eyes her mouth in an angry sneer. “He’s you’re son Lucius, you wanted an heir, he is entirely your responsibility, I want nothing to do with him. Just keep the brat away from me!” she yelled at her husband. Lucius raised an eyebrow “Fine, as you whish Narcissa, but in the future you will AT LEAST play the doting in public!” he yelled back. The woman sighed throwing up her hands in surrender “fine, but that’s where it ends!” she responded coldly. A three year old blond boy was standing in the hallway near the door clearly having heard everything that had been said. The boy was slightly confused. What had he done wrong? He wracked his small brain but really couldn’t think of anything that he could have done to make his mother hate him. He bit his lip fighting back the tears that we suddenly threatening to fall and quickly made his way back up to his room.
Then the dreams shifted to another memory, about two years later.
He was in a large room. His parents were hosting a party and he was made to attend. The blond looked around the room taking in the people that had gathered in the large lounge, talking and drinking. He was bored and wondered how much longer he would be forced to attend. He glanced at the clock… almost midnight. He stifled a yawn. He was getting really tired. He sighed as his father met his eyes warningly. Draco squared his shoulders and sat up straight. He knew the look on his father’s face and he really didn’t want to anger his father at occasions like these. He nodded politely as one of his father’s friends joined him on the large couch the small child was laying on. He listened and made the right noises at the right time.
A while later his father walked over “I think it is time for you to go up to your room Draco” he ordered and the boy looked up thankful nodding “of course father” he agreed and stood courteously excusing himself from the party. If he had known however what his father had in mind for he wouldn’t have been in such a hurry to get back up to his room. Half an hour after the boy had gotten to his room he had curled himself up on his bed and was about to fall asleep when the door to his room slowly opened. He was instantly awake again, but it wasn’t his father as he expected, but the man that had joined him on the couch earlier that night. He frowned slightly puzzled. What was this guy doing in his room?
The man moved to his bed and sat down beside the now sitting boy “you sure are a pretty thing…” he slurred which baffled the boy even more. He however smiled politely at the compliment. The man now pulled the boy on his lap and started undoing his pyjama’s. the blond frowned watching the big fingers unbuttoning his silk shirt.
He would later learn that what happened that night was called seks and that the man that had come to his room that night had been the minister of magic and his father had arranged their little meeting to make friends with him, just as he would do later on with other influential people.
This was even worse that the other things his father had put him through, and for some reason, this was different from the pain of the punishments he endured. He had quickly gotten used to that. This however was a whole different ballgame, and no matter how hard the blond tried he could just not get used to this, and no matter how much he told himself it wasn’t a big deal. That he would get used to this too eventually, he just couldn’t seem to be able to push this to the back of his mind.
This faded only to be replaced by a new one.
The blond sat in his room sitting at his windowsill watching out of the window whishing he could go outside. There was a sharp voice from downstairs “Draco, my office, NOW!” bellowed up to his room. He slowly turned his head rising to his feet obeying immediately making his way down the stairs heading towards the large office his small hands trembling before knocking softly.
“Enter” his father voice said from the inside and the boy took a deep breath before heading inside “you whished to see me father?” he asked his head bowed.
His father narrowed his eyes his cane catching his son in the stomach “how often must I tell you Draco, do not speak unless specifically asked” he growled, and Draco bit his lip.. how could he have been so stupid? He kept his eyes to the floor his expression not showing the pain he felt. He probably bruised his ribs again….
“To business… I’m having a meeting with the minister of Magic and you will be coming with me” his father ordered “so go get ready, and you better be on your best behaviour, we do not want the ministry to come snooping around the manor.
The blond nodded quickly and left the room rushing back up stairs to change into his ‘good’ clothes after taking a shower. He really didn’t want to see this guy anymore… the thought of that night still made him feel slightly dirty. He couldn’t refuse his father though and so about half an hour later he was downstairs, on his best behaviour speaking with his father’s ‘friend’.
He swallowed when he was ordered to go up-stairs again. He knew what was going to happen… footsteps sounded up the stairs coming closer, and closer until they stopped dead in front of his room. The silver eyes darted across the room. Maybe he could hide? He knew he could and simply waited for what he knew was going to happen. The man opened the door and made his way to the bed where the blond had been sitting on. he was about to pull the boy onto his lap again he arms comeing closer and closer....
The blond startled awake a silent ‘please… no’ forming his lips as his eyes darted around the room. It was dark. Where was he? This wasn’t his room… and where was that minister guy? It took him several minutes to remember what had happened.
Right he was in the school. With two Gryffindors. He sighed forcing his heart to slow down and his breathing to even out. He laid back down closing his eyes. This was just great. Could he just get one night of decent sleep? Was that really to much to ask? Especially when he was in the same room with some other boy. He opened his eyes again knowing there would be no more sleep for the rest of the night. Ah well.. at least it had only been a dream, he guessed he should be thankful for that…
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Post by plzkthnks on Nov 17, 2008 8:32:58 GMT 1
Harry wasn't sure how long he had been laying there when he heard a sharp intake of breath from his right. He turned a bit, his eyes automatically seeking out Malfoy's pale figure—he was unmoving, and Harry wondered if he imagined it. The boy seemed fine, now. Fast asleep. He turned away, staring back up at the ceiling. He silently traced the designs with his eyes, something he used to do when he was in the cupboard at his aunt and uncle's. Then, it had helped him sleep. Now, however, it helped him remain quiet, thoughtless. It was a welcomed distraction.
Gradually, the curtains near their beds started lightening, signalling daybreak, and Harry sat up. Pushing the blankets from his body, he moved out of bed as quietly as he could, rummaging in his trunk for a fresh pair of clothes and his bag of toiltries. He headed into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.
Every morning when he looked in the mirror, Harry was both surprised and unsurprised by what he saw. Surprised because the changes in his face were so subtle—and the changes inside of him felt so much more dramatic, he half-expected his face to mirror that. Unsurprised because of those feelings inside. He had slight shadows beneath his eyes, due to lack of sleep, and his complexion seemed paler, a gradually growing contrast against his dark hair. And his eyes—they were darker, becoming bloodshot. To him, he imagined they resembled his mother's eyes less and less. He sighed. Running his hand through his messy locks, Harry turned away from the mirror and headed to the shower. Minutes later, he headed out of the bathroom, considerably cleaner—but, unfortunately, the warm water had done little to improve his mood. Packing his things back into his trunk, again as quietly as he could, he grabbed a roll of parchment and a quill and headed out into the small common room.
He was relieved to find Hermione still in bed.
He really wasn't in the mood for another argument this early in the morning.
Harry settled into one of the armchairs in front of the fire place, staring down at the parchment with dark eyes. Classes started Monday—Dumbledore had scheduled the start of term on a Friday this year, in attempts to help everyone get a little bit more settled. So really, there was no need for him to write anything. He had no essays due—and yet, he moved the quill toward the parchment anyway. Idly, the quill started moving up and down and over the parchment, creating circles and loops, and Harry followed the movement with his eyes, welcoming the distraction from his thought. He traced the circles again and again until the quill scratched through the parchment. He sighed, folding that part underneath another part, and started the process over.
He wasn't entirely sure how long he sat there, with the only sounds in the room that of the fire cracking and his quill against the rough parchment, before he was startled by a soft pop! to his right. Harry looked up to meet the great green eyes of Dobby, the house elf.
Dobby grinned at him.
"Morning, Mister Master Harry! I's brought food for you and Miss Hermione!" Harry's eyes dropped to the two trays between Dobby's gnarled fingers, flicking up when he moved a bit closer. His voice came out as a whisper—well, as good of a whisper as anyone would expect a house elf to have. His expression grew serious."And Master Draco's... but Dobby won't talk about that."
Harry smiled a bit, despite himself. Breakfast? Already? Surely it wasn't that late already..
"Thank you Dobby," he said, putting his things on the floor and standing up. He moved to take the tray from Dobby but the house elf had already disappeared and reappeared across the room, setting the two trays on the biggest table. Dobby grinned back at him.
"Dobby, could you tell me what time it is?"
"Of course," said Dobby, nodding eagerly, pleased to be able to help, as always. "It's quarter to ten, Mister Master Harry."
His eyes widened a bit.
Really?
He glanced toward Hermione's bedroom door.
She was up, then. Just ignoring him.
Just as well, he supposed.
He looked back at Dobby.
"Thank you, Dobby."
Dobby nodded again, his great ears flapping against his head. He bowed down low, his nose nearly touching the floor.
"You're very welcome, sirs!" he straightened, his grin still in place. "I's proud to announce I'll be bringing all the meals for yous until Mister Master Dumbledore says otherwise! Says the secret must be kept, he does!"
Harry nodded, offering Dobby another smile. Of course. They wouldn't be able to bring Malfoy into the great hall like this.
"I'll see you later then," Harry said gently.
And with that, Dobby disappeared with a pop.
Sighing, he glanced at Hermione's door and then at his own. He figured he might as well go get Malfoy first, before the food got cold. Hermione was less likely to start another fight if Malfoy was already up and about. Albiet hesitantly, he headed back into his bedroom.
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Post by loekie on Nov 17, 2008 12:04:23 GMT 1
The small boy spent the rest of the night simply staring ahead blankly, emptying his thoughts. He really didn’t want to dwell in the memories the dreams had left behind. Luckily though there was no real movement from beside him and he just figured his ‘roomie’ was asleep and the blond was thankful. He sighed softly. This was just what he needed. The blond stared at the ceiling. He really couldn’t sleep anymore. He couldn’t risk it, besides he really didn’t want another walk down memory lane. He wondered how he had survived the next 5 years, since apparently he was 15. Already at his young age, he sometimes felt like just giving up.
Daybreak started trickling through the window and he heard the other boy shuffling around and heading towards the bathroom. He moved his head slightly towards the bathroom when he heard the shower. He shrugged and turned towards the ceiling again. Then the boy grabbed something and headed out of the room. The blond simply stayed in bed a little longer deep in thought.
The 15 year old version was not an early riser and his morning temper was something his dorm-mates had grown to avoid every morning. It really wasn’t something to be messed with as they had learned over the years.
The small boy heard voices in the other room. A voice that sounded oddly familiar, but the hushed tomes were too soft for him to really put his fingers on it. The blond leaned back in his pillow for a bit more before finally swinging his legs out from under the covers. He grabbed some of the cloths that were left by the house-elves last night and he silently crept towards the bathroom. He put his thing away and caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He scowled at the image. Disgusted. His face was pale and two cold and empty silver eyes stared back at him. They reminded him just a little too much of his father’s and he averted his gaze. He was too young to really have large bags under his eyes, but that didn’t stop the exhaustion and the bad night sleep shining through in his eyes somewhat. He gave his reflection another glare before stripping out of his pyjama and stepping into the shower. He turned the knobs and let the hot water poor over his lithe small frame.
He remembered the first time the minister had paid his room a visit and how after he had left he had darted to his bathroom and taken a scalding hot shower, but no matter how much he scrubbed and cleaned, the dirty feeling never really went away. It had been one of the few times he had allowed the tears to fall and as his tears melted with the hot water silently dripping down his face he couldn’t be sure when they had stopped and it had just been the water. It had been the last time he had cried and he had vowed to himself to never even let that happen again. He hated the way it made him feel weak and it was childish, it wasn’t like it would help or chance anything.
The blond shook himself out of the memory and ran his hand through his hair washing it out. He didn’t know how long he’d stood under the shower, but really he didn’t care. He stepped from the shower into the bathroom once again, a towel wrapped around him. He used a quick drying spell and changed into his clean cloths brushing his hair letting it down. He didn’t have any gel or whatever here, so he could really do anything with it. It just now fell into his face, framing it between the silky blond locks. He brushed it out of his eyes shaking his head. It would have to do.
He caught one last look in the mirror. The shower hadn’t faded to tiredness from his eyes and he sighed annoyed. No-one really knew how disgusted he really felt with himself as he did a good job at hiding it behind false bravado and arrogance. He shrugged turning away from the sharp features that stared back. Even at this age he looked a lot like his father. The same pale complexion. The same thick silky blond hair, the same eyes, and to top it of, the same cold demeanour that was the trademark of a Malfoy. The child slipped on his mask, firmly putting it in place.
He grabbed his pyjama from the floor before going back in the room putting his stuff away. He the opened the curtains allowing the light to stream into the room. His eyes travelled up to the other room which had now gone quiet. Really wasn’t looking forward to face the music of a new day just yet and set himself in the windowsill leaning back against the wall his arms and chin resting on his knees as he stared out of the window to see what was going on outside in the grounds. Since classes hadn’t started yet, most students had used these extra days to sleep in and relax for just a few days longer and so there weren’t many people out there.
The grounds thought, were amazing. There was a large lake in the middle and a woodland at the end. He had heard stories about the forest and wondered it they were true…? Maybe he could find out.
There were footsteps heading towards the room. The blond looked up slightly. The raven-haired had probably just needed something in the room. He paid it little attention as he shifted his gaze back to the window.
It reminded him slightly on how he would spent most of his time back at the manor. Sitting at his window staring out over the grounds sweeping around Malfoy Manor whishing he could just go out there, play, running around and just do what he had heard other children were doing. Instead he’d be cooped up in his room until his father sent for him whenever he had done something wrong, or when it was time for his studies.
He was glad for the window though, at least he could daydream and watch whatever went on outside. It was distraction, and that, the blond thought, was priceless. He ran a hand through his hair brushing it away from his eyes once again.
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Post by plzkthnks on Nov 17, 2008 19:15:40 GMT 1
Harry opened the door to the bedroom quietly, not bothering to shut it behind him this time. His eyes instantly went to Malfoy's bed—he was a bit surprised that he wasn't in it. He gave the room a quick once over, his eyes catching on the window. There sat Malfoy in the window sill, his back against the wall and his face turned to the grounds. Shouldn't he still be sleeping? Didn't kids like sleeping in or something? But then, in retrospect, Harry couldn't imagine that being something his parents let happen. For what ever reason, he imagined them all as morning people. He took a step into the room. It looked like the other had already showered, too—he had already changed out of his pyjamas and his hair fell around his head and face, a pale blond curtain. The sun caught on it, making him look a bit surreal.
He brushed that thought aside.
"'Morning, Malfoy," he said quietly, nodding once in the other's direction. "Glad you're awake—there's breakfast, when ever you're ready."
He looked at Malfoy for a moment longer, feeling as if he should make some other attempt at morning pleasantries—but turned away and headed back into the common room, shutting the door only part of the way behind him. He looked toward Hermione's door, toying with the idea of getting her or not. He decided against it. She was a big girl—and he knew she was awake—she'd decide when she wanted to come out, wouldn't she? He looked back at the table, his stomach lurching a bit at the sight of the food. He supposed it looked good—the trays were littered with pancakes, sausage, eggs and other things—but he didn't really feel hungry.
He hadn't felt hungry in a long while, actually.
What little he had managed to choke down during meal times had only been because of his company. He couldn't very well starve himself in Grimmauld Palace. People got suspicious if he didn't show up at meal times. Harry suspected it would be very much the same here. He'd have to eat sometime.
Absently folding one arm across his abdomen, Harry headed back to his armchair in front of the fireplace.
The door to Hermione's room opened moments later. He looked up automatically, not even bothering to fix a smile on his face. He had had a lot of time to think about things that morning—he knew that he had to keep up the act he had started building over the summer, that he had to push everyone away before it was too late. Now that his head was in the game again, he didn't think he'd have any more difficulties. He'd do it subtly. Nothing major. They probably wouldn't even notice he was gone.
He vaguely noticed Hermione had her rucksack swung over her shoulder. She looked over at him, expressionless.
"Good morning, Harry," said Hermione, her voice a bit distant. Still angry about last night, then.
Good.
"I'm going to head down to breakfast and then go to the library—" she paused, waiting for a response. Harry simply nodded, not even bothering to ask why, even though classes hadn't started yet. Hermione always had some sort of project going on. She supposed that was as much as she was going to get. She sighted, eyeing him carefully.
"There's food on the table," he said politely enough, his voice coming out a bit flat.
Hermione shrugged, frowning a bit. She moved closer to the portrait hole.
"I figured Dumbledore would send some up... but Ron's going to get suspicious if neither of us show to breakfast."
Oh. Right. Hermione probably had a point.
"Don't worry, I'll make some excuse for your absence.."
He wondered what it would be. Hermione couldn't tell Ron that he was sick, or Ron would rush right up to keep him company, no matter what rare illness he had contracted. Really, if he thought about it, it was likely that Ron was going to come up anyway—being a Saturday and all, he probably didn't have much to do. Maybe Hermione would tell him some version of the truth—he doesn't want company, Ron. Even yours. He doesn't want either of us anymore. He tried not to think about what Ron's reply would be, because he knew that it would hurt. He was bound to hurt Ron more than Hermione. He and Ron had always had a few issues, but they were still the closest of friends—not necessarily closer than he and Hermione, but at least he was sure Hermione had some vague understanding of what was happening, why he was pushing her away. Ron, he imagined, would be clueless.
"I trust you'll be fine with Draco?"
Her voice pulled Harry out of his thoughts, and he shrugged. It was strange, hearing her refer to him as Draco instead of Malfoy. He really couldn't believe she was so willing to forgive him—but then, it really wasn't any of his business, so it didn't really matter. He'd stick with calling him Malfoy though, thank you very much.
"Yeah, sure," he said dismissively. She looked at him for a moment longer, as if waiting for some sort of other reply, but when none came, she turned away.
"Bye Draco," she called out, her smile apparent in her voice. When she looked back at Harry, her smile was gone, and all she offered him was a soft Harry, before disappearing out of the portrait hole. Harry stared after her for a moment before switching his gaze back to the fire. Trying not to wonder if he would ever get over her cold shoulder, he picked up his parchment and quill again. After all, that was what he wanted, wasn't it? He started scribbling, quickly loosing himself in the dizzying design.
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Post by loekie on Nov 17, 2008 23:37:20 GMT 1
The blond was still lost in thought staring out over the grounds the sun stroking his face. He wasn’t really aware of anything around him. When someone called his name though his head snapped up to where the sound came from “hmmm?” he responded but then caught on “morning Potter” he replied. Hey if the raven-haired was hell-bend on calling him by family name, he sure wasn’t going to. The boy nodded “alright… I’ll be out soon” he replied as the other boy told him breakfast was there and looked at him from a bit longer and the blond again was slightly uncomfortable again. Soon though the boy was gone and he was left alone again. He sighed. He really wasn’t hungry. The dream had left him with a twisted stomach and the lack of sleep didn’t exactly help. He closed his eyes for a second. He should eat something though, since it would look rather suspicious if he didn’t and really… he didn’t want to deal with any difficult questions. He slowly rose to his feet mentally preparing himself to really embrace the new day.
When he got to the door though he heard another door open and he figured it must be the girl. She said her good morning but it sounded cold… distant. The blond remembered the fight from last night and figured it must not have ended too well. He the heard her say she was going to get breakfast, and then head to the library. The raven-haired simply told her there was food on the table. The girl then was talking about this Ron and that he might get suspicious. The blond boy shook his head. What was the other boy trying to achieve with this? It was just… ah well.. it was none of his business. When she then said she’d make an excuse for his absence she was about to leave.
“Bye Draco” she called and the blond frowned slightly “bye” he called after her as she left the room.
The blond stepped out of the bedroom and looked around. He noticed the food on a nearby table and sighed. He really wasn’t hungry, but walked over to force some food down his throat. When that was over and done with he watched as the raven-haired in the armchair in front of the fireplace. What was he doing? Doodling on a piece of paper? He shrugged it of. What did he care what the teen was up to?
He sat on the couch staring into the fire the dreams playing over and over again in his mind. He really needed something to do and fast, or it was going to drive him crazy. He took in the room once again, now in daylight. It was bigger then he had first thought, there wasn’t really much interesting to see though and so he went in search of other distractions, something he supposed the other boy was doing as well. Doodling to keep his mind occupied. He sighed this was going to be a long day… but hey, everything was better then being at the Manor, or so the boy supposed.
His eye caught the table before him seeing the books that were still laying on there. He hunched over to scanned the titles. Most of them he’d read, but there were one or two unbeknown to him and so he picked up one of them flipping through the pages. Skimming the contents of the book. He couldn’t really concentrate though and he had to read the same passage 3 or 4 times before he had really grasped what it was trying to tell him.
He didn’t care though and was content to just hang back an relax for, as far as he could remember, was the first time. He couldn’t remember having nothing to do. He had pretty much always had tutors and teachers and he father demanded he read the book he’d be given and be able answer questions. Now though, there was nothing for him to do, and still he choose to read. The boy was honestly starting to doubt his own sanity. Maybe his father had finally driven his crazy. Who knew? Truth be told, the boy simply enjoyed it. He liked to solve puzzles, figuring things out. he just whished that he would be able to do this without the dire consequences, whether he had it right or not. It was never good enough… quick enough.
He felt his mind wondering and shook out of it. What was his problem? He needed to shape up and fast. This was just childish. He needed to grow the hell up. It wasn’t like he hadn’t dealt with this before a million times before so why was he now unable to just get over it? He figured that it might have something to do with the fact that for the first time, he had a chance to really think about everything, instead of spending all his time thinking how he’d survive and get through whatever his father had in store for him next. Well… apparently so far he’d succeeded and would be for at least the next 5 years.
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Post by plzkthnks on Nov 18, 2008 0:37:22 GMT 1
Harry was vaguely aware of Malfoy entering the room, moments after Hermione left. He barely glanced up. He hadn't wanted to talk to Hermione—why would he want to talk to Malfoy? Hell, what would they talk about to begin with? It wasn't as if they were on civil terms before Malfoy was a dumb arse and drank that potion—okay, correction,—before Malfoy simply drank that potion—and while Harry was certainly going to put a little bit of effort in it (if only to keep himself sane) he wasn't about to make it harder than it had to be. Besides, Malfoy looked about as willing to converse as Harry felt. So instead, Harry continued to doodle. It was mindless work—and exactly what he needed. Too soon though, his parchment ran out and he found himself looking for other ideas to entertain.
Talking to Malfoy was still out of the question, thankfully.
He wasn't that desperate.
Speaking of—he was being awfully quiet... Harry spared a glance behind him, slightly surprised to find the boy immersed in one of Hermione's books. Figures Malfoy was a know it all at six. He sighed, perfectly content with leaving the boy to his own devices.
He turned back toward the fire place, a soft snap sounding over his shoulder. He turned, spotting a familar house elf.
"I's come to collect the dishes, Mister Master Harry," Dobby announced, grinning over at him. Harry managed a smile in return.
"Thank you, Dobby."
Dobby gave him a slight bow, turning to the table, hesitating in mid-reach as his eyes caught on Malfoy, and even from where he was sitting, Harry could see the grin disappear. He straightened a bit in his seat, moving to his feet, just in case... just in case of.. of what? Dobby could handle himself. And even if Dobby tried something (which Harry couldn't see,) could he really outmatch a house elf? Still, the air had grown considerably tenser, and he felt the need to be near by in case he had to intervene.
"Master Draco," said Dobby quietly, his fingers visibly trembling as he reached out and took a hold of the two trays. "Hows... how's you doing, Master Draco?"
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Post by loekie on Nov 18, 2008 1:42:38 GMT 1
the blond sensed the other boy looking around but paid it no attention. He was glad for the silence and he really wasn’t up for a discussion or conversation, and he had a feeling that the other boy wasn’t exactly waiting for one either, so the quiet suited them both. He turned a page and focused back on the book when there was a soft pop he recognized as that of a house-elf arriving.
“I’s come to collect the dishes, Mister Master Harry” the small creature grinned as it looked up at the raven-haired.
Draco frowned slightly. That was the same voice he had heard this morning. His father’s house-elf… Dobey. But what was he doing here? His father surely wouldn’t have freed him would he? He then remembered that actually 5 years had passed and who knew what had happened in between right? He was glad for the elf though. He’d earned it from what his father put him through.
The blond looked up putting his book away as Harry smiled at the small creature before them “thank you Dobey” the teen responded.
The boy rose to his feet turning to the two others in the room. The elf stiffened visibly and Draco knew he was growing nervous. Not of fear as the raven-haired thought, but because the elf knew what was going on. He had already been working at the Manor before Draco was borne and so had a pretty clear picture of what went on between the closed doors of the Malfoy estate.
Dobey himself was slightly surprised to actually see the small blond even though he had been told he was here. So it was really true? He thought back on the many times he had heard shouts coming from his ex-master’s office when the blond had been called down there. The yelling had been one-sided though. The blond hardly ever even gave a whimper. He had felt sorry for the poor child, ever since he had learned Narcissa was pregnant.
He had spent quiet some time healing the boy’s wounds when Lucius and Narcissa were sleeping. They had had to be healed the ‘muggle’ way though since his father had put some charm on his son so that wounds could not be healed magically, since that would make it too easy for the boy to heal himself and he then he would forget his lesson all to quickly.
Dobey also remembered how the small child had protested, knowing what Dobey would be doing to himself when he’d be done. He knew the blond would grow up to be know as a emotionless, stone-cold and icy bully, but he’d never been mean to the elf.
“How’s.. how’s you doing Master Draco?” he asked softly.
The blond smiled slightly “I’m fine Dobey” he answered as Dobey now walked towards him.
“Is you hurt…?” the small creature whispered in case he might have to stop by later.
The boy shook his head in a negative answer.
Dobey frowned but nodded. Maybe his injuries had disappeared when he’d taken the potion. He collected the dishes as he had been sent to do “Anything else I can get for you?” he asked to two boys.
The blond shook his head “not for me thank you” he said and when the other boy couldn’t see him he gave the elf a rare genuine smile he saved only for times as these….
Dobey nodded and looked up at the dark-haired boy “and for you Mister, Master Harry?” he asked eagerly, now that he knew the blond boy was alright, was the familiar grin back in place.
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