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Chapter Text

Chapter One
Diminutio Saeculi

"Got it in for you, he has." Harry's best friend, a severely red haired and freckled Ron, muttered lowly from his left. Now Harry was happy that Ron was here with him, but it didn't take a genius to realise that that might not have been such a brilliant choice, an example would be Ron's obvious statements. Harry really was grateful that his friend would stick out another year of Potions with him, seeing as he never really tried in his other years because of the stress of having Voldemort so close, but now that Voldemort was far away in another country, Harry could at least unwind a little. Though Potions wasn't exactly the right class to relax or unwind in. 

They were unlucky enough to have their first class of the year as Potions, and it was already going to hell, not that he expected it not to, he was well aware of his reputation in Snape's classroom and was just waiting for the moment where an explosion of some sort would blow from his cauldron, though Harry had scrubbed his cauldron clean almost immediately in case there was something left in there that would sabotage his potion. Harry was severely happy that Neville Longbottom, a fellow Gryffindor and friend, dropped the subject and took up another less volatile subject. Neville's work in Potions seemed to be legendary to the years below them, but it definitely wasn't pleasant when you were beside the man when it happened. Harry still has a few scars on him for evidence if anyone were to doubt their warnings about Neville.

Instead of ignoring whatever Snape was droning on about like he had in his past years at Hogwarts, Harry paid extra attention to him, especially when Snape wrote down the instructions on the black board. It was a little odd, Snape didn't seem nearly half as boring as he did whenever Harry let his voice fade to white noise, if anything, it seemed to captivate the class. If not for the useful information and tips he was giving, then for the threats in his dark eyes that spelled trouble for anyone who daren't listen.

Harry wasted no time when Snape let them gather the ingredients themselves and hurriedly took the ingredients for the potion out of the store cupboard down the front of the room. What about Ron? Harry glanced at his best mate and thought twice about Ron's dazed expression. Ron was far too absorbed in his thoughts to concentrate on making a potion, and he highly doubted that Ron even realised where they were let alone what day it was. Harry rounded back into the cupboard and doubled the ingredients for Ron and himself, though not without being elbowed once or twice from his classmates. He ignored the familiar venomous scowl on Snape's face when he dodged around his classmates that milled around the cupboard, almost dropped a jar or two of the ingredients and made his way to their table. He placed their ingredients down gently, but Ron didn't seem to notice anything. With a sigh worthy of the Slytherin house, Harry jostled Ron, which made Ron wake up from his thoughts and finally blink out of his stupor. Ron grinned at Harry in his usual goofy way, a slight tinge to his cheek, Harry hoped he was going to say 'Thanks' and then begin making his potion, but his hope half died when Ron said, "Thanks mate." And then went back to gazing into nothing. 

If it weren't for his determination, Harry would have gladly joined him in La La Land, but as he was aiming to get a fairly decent grade, Harry filled his cauldron halfway with water almost immediately, and began separating the ingredients on their table. He glanced at Ron beside him, Ron was leaning on his elbows with his chin on his palms and was gazing into space. Harry shook his head in amusement before separating Ron's ingredients as well, though Ron didn't notice anything Harry was doing. Harry absentmindedly thought of Ron's cauldron and how it would have been really, really nice if it were as hot and bubbly as his was. Ron gasped beside him when his cauldron unexpectedly blazed and filled halfway with water, "Blimey!" Ron sputtered, blinking in amazement, his eyes looking all over the cauldron as if it were a small miniature Room of Requirement.

Harry barely cast Ron a glance when Ron turned to him expectantly and continued to chop up a small portion of Boomslang delicately, "You'd better get to work mate, Snape's in a foul mood for us Gryffindor's." He murmured to the red head with a grin, sliding the finely cut Boomslang into the boiling cauldron with the side of his knife.

"Thanks mate." Ron grinned at his silently working best friend, and finally began working on his own potion. 

The class continued on in their work silently, sometimes speaking to their neighbours about something odd or funny about their potions before going back to slicing or stirring whenever Snape spotted them. Harry was used to this, he was used to the stench and steam of potions stinging his skin and nose, of the dark cornered room he sat in, but what he was almost painfully used to, was the snickering and sneering table of Slytherin's seated at the other side of the room. A painfully familiar white haired man snickered from that particular table, waving something around in their faces which definitely peaked Harry's interest. What was Malfoy up to now? But Harry barely looked at the table of Snake's when a phial of weird purple liquid was thrown at his feet. He tried in vain to jump back to avoid the mass of purple cloud emitting from the now broken phial, but realised too soon that Ron was easily spooked and had pushed him into the cloud in a fast motion of reflex.

Harry suddenly realised why the table of snake's were snickering when his body exploded in pain.

Draco was happy, he was in a familiar and homey castle that was so painstakingly beautiful that it was so hard to be angry in. He had his friends, he had power, his parents were happier than ever. Scratch that, Draco was in euphoria. Not even Potter could ruin his mood. He'd made his way into the dungeons to go to Severus' class and had managed to get ten points off of one of the Gryffindor's for threatening bodily harm just before they'd gone into the classroom. Draco always counted on Severus' timing, and it always paid off when he was patient enough to wait.

Draco hated to wait, everything he wanted to do was done the moment he'd thought about it and just the way he wanted it, and even though Potter was in his favourite class, nothing the man could do could touch his mood. Not even if he were crying.

Draco sat in his seat with the usual cold smirk on his lips, watching as the other students worked their hardest to create this potion. It was far too easy for him, he'd already done it many times at the manor, it almost wasn't fair. And then his eyes caught on a painfully familiar raven head in the opposite corner of the room, he watched with a sneer as Potter began chopping up Boomslang tails -albeit gracefully and delicately, to Draco's utter surprise- before he realised Potter's mistake. The fool hadn't even filled his cauldron nor started a fire yet! He thought smugly, crossing his arms and readying his arm to get his godfather's attention. But just as fast as that thought had made itself known, a flame sparked underneath both Potter's and the Weasel's cauldrons and the tripods they sat on turned an immediate burning red in a mere few seconds.

"Draco darling, what's this? I haven't seen it before, is it new?" Pansy asked smirked briefly, picking up the new bracelet Draco's mother had bought him in congratulations on becoming Quidditch Captain, and dangling it from its delicate silver chain in front of his face. It was a silver Dragon with piercing green eyes, the colours of his family crest. Silver and green, his favourite colours.

Draco smirked at her and elegantly caught it in between his fingers before Pansy could retract her hand, thanks to his Seeker reflexes, and waved it in front of her face, which turned into three, seeing as Blaise and Goyle had turned around on their stools to see what the commotion was about, "Far more precious than all of the other things your mother has gotten you, including you." He gave a short graceful chuckle at the look of amusement on Pansy's face before sliding the chain around his thin and pale wrist, and began playing with the dragon with his long slender fingers.

He was still chuckling with his friends when a loud smash echoed from the other side of the classroom, where Potter and Weasel sat. He turned, expecting to see Severus ghost over to the disgracefully clumsy pair, but was surprised when he caught a rather unsettling commotion. Weasel was perched on his seat with his feet up and was screeching like a mandrake root while pushing a severely stunned Harry Potter into a thick cloud of purple mist. It seemed over in mere seconds, and there may or may have not been an uproar around them, Draco wouldn't know, to him it was deafeningly silent, he and every other student watched as Snape hurriedly cast a spell to trap the mist within an opaque bubble and dissolved expertly it in mere seconds. Draco stretched in his seat to search for the familiar head of messy raven hair like many others, when a small whimper from the far left of him caught his attention. Crouching in the corner of the classroom under a spare table, was a small boy with messy raven hair and bright green eyes. And a lightning bolt shaped scar on his forehead. Though it was hard to see due to the shadows there, but Potter's eyes seemed so green that they looked luminous. 

"Potter?" Severus stepped forward warily, holding his hands and wand out in such a way that Draco had never seen before. It actually looked like Severus was trying to soothe an injured or skittish animal! Well, Potter is an animal .. He thought listlessly, but there was no heat or wish to continue to insult the scared little boy. He and everyone in the classroom were in shock. Harry Potter, the seventeen year old Boy Who Lived, was hardly waist high and younger than they'd ever seen him!

"W-where--? Who--?" Little Potter's eyes were wider than Draco had ever seen them and were darting around the room madly, a shiver tickled Draco's spine when little Potter's gaze slid over him, but that went away when a great large tear rolled down one of Potter's round pale cheeks, though it did look a little .. bruised in Draco's opinion, though it was too dark to see when Potter was crouched under the table like that. But he needn't have looked closer, his suspicion was justified when one of little Potter's hands gingerly and softly wiped the tear away from the bruised cheek with one of the very loose and very long sleeves of his robes. Little Potter immediately stopped and looked down at the pool of black cloth at his feet in confusion. "What ..?"

"Potter, are you alright?" Severus stepped a little closer, gingerly closing in on the small boy.

Little Potter looked up at his name and nodded absentmindedly, and said, "Yes sir."

Yes sir? When has Potter ever said, 'Yes sir'? This surely can't be Potter, especially when he was young, he's too disgustingly adorable and polite, if not a little too submissive, where's the spoilt brat he'd come to expect and know? Draco thought disdainfully, sneering at the boy. Who could ever think that Potter was adorable as a child? What happened to him to make him seem so .. acrimonious, as a teenager? Who cares, he can go suck on a Hypogriff's feather for all I care, Draco thought bitterly, crossing his arms over his chest and glowering at the shaking child.

Little Potter's legs seemed to fail him at that moment, and he fell on his bottom on the cold hard floor of the dungeon classroom, and two mismatched socks barely covering two tiny feet, poked out from the end of the long black robes. Teenager Potter's shoes were lying on their sides near Weasel's feet at their table, and with a note of haughtiness, Draco smirked coldly at the little boy. Potter's probably had those old ratty things all his life, He thought with a sneer.

"Potter?" Severus' voice seemed so soft now, so soft that Draco had begun to feel odd. Severus had never spoken to him like that before, and much less towards Potter. "Potter, can you come here?" He asked again, equally as softly as before with his hand outstretched towards the little boy.

Harry looked from the large pale hands outstretched towards him to the pale face of the man in front of him that looked soft and comforting. Nothing like he'd ever seen before, the Dursley's always sneered or scowled or grimaced at him no matter what he seemed to do. What had he done to be treated so nicely by this man? Harry bit his lip gently, blinking owlishly up at the soft features of a man he didn't know. But surely this man was better than his uncle, aunt and cousin? Harry shifted a little to get to his shaking feet and slowly, very slowly, slipped out from under the table and a little closer to the man.

There were so many faces peering at him, but most were incredibly blurry -much to Harry's relief, he didn't think he could take actually seeing what their expressions were-. But that didn't stop the nerves and fear from bubbling up hysterically inside Harry's chest cavity. Harry tried not to wince and look down, and instead concentrated on the black haired man in front of him. He looked a little blurry, as did all the other faces to Harry, but he didn't dare look away for a second, he was afraid that they'd disappear.

Harry hesitantly hovered one of his hands -the less damaged one- over the older man's. He was waiting for the smack, or the rough yanking or at least some form of punishment, but there was none. The other man was waiting patiently for him to make that move. Harry tried to will his hands to stop shaking, but his stomach was tense and his back was rigid, he was incredibly uncomfortable being under the gaze of others. Especially the blond one to the right of him, he was close enough for Harry to distinguish the emotions on the his face, he looked incredibly angry and hateful. But Harry was used to that look, and he found that it comforted him a little, that this wasn't a dream.

Severus and the other watched the little boy with baited breath, no one dared to breathe at all. The little boy in front of them looked so small and scared and damaged, many were trying not to cry when they saw that his cheek held a week old bruise that looked gruesome and many more were shocked and horrified to find that there were light finger marks covering his pale skinny throat. The little boy looked like he was made of sticks, he was so thin and small. Ron seemed most affected by this, he felt and looked shocked and slightly betrayed, Draco suspected that it was because his best friend hadn't told him about this, hadn't told him about the abuse that he suffered at the muggles' home.

Harry looked down at the blurry white hands in front of him and noticed something long and brown laying in the middle of the man's right hand. A stick, it's a stick, Harry concluded. "Why are you holding a stick, mister?" He asked quietly, tilting his head slightly at the stick and blinking owlishly up at the man.

This seemed to be the tipping point for most of the students in the classroom. A wand? He doesn't even know what a wand looks like? And then things seemed to escalate as that thought train led to other questions. If he didn't know what a wand was, did he know about magic? Did he know that he was a wizard? Did he know about the wizard society? Blaise, Pansy and Goyle shared looks of confusion and pity for the poor boy.

Severus seemed to be the only one who was calm, "It is a wand mister Potter, but we shall talk about that later," He said surely, and the tension in the room became a little more palpable when the next words rolled from their Potion's master's mouth, "what do you remember, boy?"

Harry paled, and withdrew his hand quicker than a snake striking at its prey. He all but threw himself back under the table, gasping and covering his head. Severus understood immediately that he'd crossed an invisible but very important line and stood swiftly, "Who threw that phial?" He demanded coldly of his students, staring them all in the eye. He easily dismissed the Gryffindor's, they were too loyal of Potter. He instead, focused on his Slytherin's. Draco's face came to mind immediately. His godson and Potter had a very dark and rough .. friendship, if anything he should call it a rivalry.

He turned to Draco and scowled darkly, "Come here Malfoy."

Draco gulped. His godfather only called him, 'Malfoy' if there was something he had done that was incredibly wrong. And then his mind worked out why he was being called upon. Severus thinks that I threw that phial! His thought frantically, But I didn't! Blaise, Pansy and Goyle can vouch for me! But as soon as he opened his mouth to explain or protest, Severus had cut him off with a fairly dark and cold, "Malfoy, come here."

Draco glanced at his friends with a frantic, 'Help me!' on his face, but they merely frowned helplessly back at him. At this moment, he hated them. They were feeding him to the werewolves, and they knew it. Draco slid off of his stool quietly and walked up to Severus' ruthless glare with a stony face. He can handle whatever Severus dishes him, he can deal with this, this is all just a misunderstanding. Draco hoped-- no, prayed to Merlin that Severus would see reason, but when he looked up at Severus' face, that prayer died before it was sent.

"Go to mister Potter and retrieve him." He commanded coldly.

Draco sucked in a deep breath. He was not a house-elf, he was a pureblood, and no one, no one controlled him. But he couldn't deny Severus anything, word would leave his Potion's masters lips fast that Draco was not behaving well to his parents, and any and all pride they had in their son would die just as quickly as his prayers had. Draco squared his shoulders and nodded sharply, before turning on his heel and striding to where Potter crouched in darkness, whimpering and covering his head with his arms. He merely looked like a spare robe that was thrown away he was so tiny.

"Potter." Draco sneered, and cleared his throat when the little bundle whimpered a little louder, "Come here." He said, trying his very hardest not to snap or grab the boy roughly. Always the attention seeker, he thought tiredly.

And then the bundle moved, and a pair of luminous green eyes stared up at him from the darkness. Draco sucked in a deep breath. Potter's eyes were not supposed to be that old and wise when he was so young. Draco froze, his grey eyes staring into bright green ones. And then the bundle moved a little more and Potter's head emerged from the darkness, though only his pale skin was distinguishable against the darkness that surrounded him. Was this kid a Vampire or something? 

Chapter Text

Chapter Two
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~He Is Harry Potter~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The bright green eyes of one very small and very neglected Harry Potter blinked owlishly up at him, dragging him in by way of the claws of a growing Gryffindor Lion, biting at his nerves and smothering him all at the same time until his lungs felt too heavy to inhale or exhale any longer. Those great big green eyes electrified him, shooting his nerves with tiny stunning spells and sucking any coherent thoughts out of his head. Alarm bells rang in his ears at that and in a different situation, Draco would have jumped back at any chance and hexed the little boy without remorse. But even then, Draco couldn't help but notice the bruises colouring the boys neck and face and how unbearably sad he looked. Was this how Potter lived when he was sent to live with muggles? As a punching bag for the stupid muggles?

Little Potter's eyes looked so raw with emotion, so full of failed expectations and sadness that it was almost too much to comprehend. They were the eyes of a haunted past, scarily similar to Draco's Potter.

No, Potter isn't capable of such emotions, the only things he knew how to do were eat, shit, smile and sleep, Draco thought quickly, going over the memories of which Potter was included in his head, over and over like a whirlwind of smiles and grins and laughs. Damn him! Draco wished he could, but those green eyes of the little boy seemed to speak far more knowledge to him than he ever thought was possible, they seemed too old and wise to belong to such a small child as he.

Who the hell does Potter think he is? Trying to pout and pull one up on me! Draco thought angrily, shaking himself from his stupid stupor. Clenching his jaw, Draco stretched out hand and glared at the small shaking child. If Potter wanted to act like a startled dirty animal, then he was going to treat him as such. Narrowing his eyes and steeling himself for the backlashing of the century from Potter's minions, Draco clicked two fingers loudly and sharply and said, "Potter, come." In a cold and commanding tone, though he felt anything but.

But it seemed to work well, as expected, Potter began edging away from the wall underneath the dark and disgustingly dirty desk, and shuffled forward towards where he knelt. Pale, stick-like fingers clutched at the black fabric of the Hogwarts robes to his small heaving chest in a dismal effort at keeping the black fabric from falling off of his small shoulders. He never knew Potter could have been so small when he was younger, though he didn't really think about how Potter used to be when he was younger, other than to scorn the day that Potter refused his offer of friendship. The sting of rejection still tingled in his throat whenever he thought about it.

The small figure of Potter seemed to take ages to materialise in the light, and when it finally did, the shock of the bruises on his skin seemed to be more evident in the room. Though Draco had seen the bruises just before, he didn't really take in how blue and purple they really seemed, and how wide too. The fingerprints that were spread on his neck seemed far too wide to be a woman's, they must belong to a heavy handed man, a man with no morals or feelings as it seemed. What a disgusting person that man would be.

Potter was taking his sweet old time as it seemed, and Draco almost felt the urge to just reach out into the darkness and grab the stupid child around the collar. He now understood why the child had bruises, the attention seeking git of a boy was just asking for it. And as such, everyone Draco encountered knew that he hated to be kept waiting, and that the last -and only- time he had to wait -for approximately five minutes- he made sure that the young witch who had taken his order and had carried his dinner plate over, was fired quite viciously and was crying as she was chucked out before she could ask, 'Anything else sir?', Draco was particularly proud of that moment. "Hurry up Potter." Draco growled, glaring at the small pale face bobbing in the darkness.

And then little -the git!- Potter glared back at him! If it weren't for the age of Potter he would have cursed him, perhaps even employed the use of one of the unforgivable, and he really didn't care which one. But, he had to admit -albeit quite begrudgingly-, if he were in Potter's position, he wouldn't have done that, he would have remained under the desk crying his eyes out and stomping his feet until his father and mother had come and picked him up. But no one would come for Potter, he had no one other than the old fool they call a headmaster. A small and highly unexpected ache started in the middle of his chest at the show of bravery and sadness of the situation. And then a touch of admiration reluctantly raised its head and a disturbing thought came to mind. If he were Potter, he wouldn't even be alive.

"We must take him to the headmaster," Severus droned coldly from behind him, "Mr Malfoy, I expect you to be nice to Mr Potter until we have reached a conclusion to why he is--" Little Potter looked away from Draco long enough to glance thoughtfully at his godfather, and Severus' voice became unintentionally softer, and slightly stuffy, "-the way he is." 

Draco let out a long suffering sigh and rubbed at the bridge of his nose. Why must Potter make his life so difficult? "Yes professor." He bit out.

"I expect you all to have finished your potions by the time I get back, and anyone who has not will be scrubbing the entire classroom clean, without magic until I deem worthy of teaching in." Severus hissed. Draco glared down at the little boy and continued rubbing the bridge of his nose, and little Potter, sensing his glare, tore his blazing green eyes from the Potions masters direction and returned his another fierce glare. He would have been afraid of the boys fierce glare, but he was barely taller than a common house-elf and therefore, far weaker than anyone he knew. And besides, even if he were strong, the bones in his hands would break upon impact wherever they hit.

And that was a rather disturbingly realistic truth.

"I expect you to come along as well, Mr Weasley." Severus snapped, and the stuttered sound of a stool scraping against the floor sounded before rushed footsteps were heard. Stupid blundering Gryffindor, Draco thought.

"Come along Potter." He snapped, quickly turning on his heel and striding past the staring and wary students on either side him to the open door where Severus and Weasel stood, awkward and tense. As he approached them, Severus arched an eyebrow and glared at him. If it weren't for self-control, Draco would have been long gone from this stupid classroom. What is it that he's done now? Expecting to see cauldrons falling the floor in a cacophony of chaos, Draco flung himself around on the spot and searched for the messy mop of black hair angrily. The cauldrons were still lit and bubbling away on every desk, and no one was screaming though they may as well have been by the way they were looking at Potter. And Potter, Draco almost sighed again, was still standing at the back of the room glaring at him.

What an imbecile. Draco huffed at the stubborn little boy and snapped his fingers again, and pointed to the spot beside his feet, "Come Potter." He snapped. He would have felt bad by the way he was treating Potter, but his patience was wearing thin and he was never too bright with children.

The little boy's glare seemed to burn into him something fierce, but he nonetheless moved towards them. Draco was soon captivated by the litheness of the small boy, he didn't stumble at all, not even when he stepped on the pooling black robes at his feet like Draco had done when he was about the boys age and was dressing up in his fathers robes. Potter had never held so much as an ounce of grace whenever Draco saw him, but this Potter, this Potter seemed to exude grace as easily as breathing. It was a little unnerving to say the least and a little enthralling.

Whenever Draco saw Potter, there was always a stumble in his step or a slouch in his back, and now he stood straighter than a ruler and walked something akin to Severus, taking long and graceful strides that betrayed the emotions warring on his face. His posture and strides looked confident, but a single look at the little boys face immediately stopped those thoughts in their tracks. He was afraid. Very afraid.

It was the most vulnerable Draco had ever seen the great Harry Potter, and some weird and wary part of him, didn't want to see it again any time soon.

Severus had ended up transfiguring the too large robes into a set of muggle clothings -something called jeans- little after a few minutes. Little Potter was finding it hard to keep the black robes from falling on the floor and snagging in small cracks or uneven surfaces, his face went tomato red every damn time and made it extremely hard for Draco to stop himself from pinching his little cheeks. This seemed to mortify Draco to no end.

Potter was striding almost as quickly and gracefully as Severus was, which both enthralled and confused Draco to no end. How in Merlin's green hair could Potter be so alike to Severus when he'd never met the man in his entire life? It was just utterly baffling and maddening! Not to mention the sincere kindness exuding from Severus whenever he talked to or was near Potter.

Weasel didn't say anything at all either, which was an added bonus for Draco, as the Weasel was always saying stupid things that were plainly obvious. It was comforting to know that Draco was causing the Weasel as much discomfort as he was Potter, but that wasn't really fair. Potter was basically sent back to live as a child with no recollections to what his life was like after that age, and that gave Draco reason enough to believe that the Draco wasn't at fault for causing him discomfort at all. Instead, Draco was causing the next best thing, humiliation.

Severus took them down a winding corridor that seemed to heat up the farther they went, and Draco realised why, they'd just taken an amazingly short short-cut from the potion's corridor and were now near the Great Hall, but as they went further out of the cold corridor and further into the warmth, they bypassed the Great Hall and travelled up a set of stairs -skipping the first step of course- to another corridor, well lit by sconces. They were brought to a halt at a large golden griffin, who's wings were outstretched in a welcoming half embrace. Severus scoffed and said, "Spotted Dick."

The griffin's wings didn't open more, but instead, Severus shoved them -rather harshly, Draco thought- into the embrace, and climbed in himself. It was a rather tight fit, but they somehow made it work, though the Weasel's elbow was digging into his ribs roughly. The griffin moved upwards in a spiral motion, much to Potter's delight, and slowed when a small set of stairs and a neat looking door came into view. They were ushered forward roughly -though Potter was handled very gently- and stopped at the door. Severus glanced down at the boy hesitantly, before raising his fist and striking it twice.

"Come in!" Came the familiar annoying old voice.

Severus pushed the door open for them and nodded stiffly at the extremely elderly looking wizard that sat behind a rather large and intimidating desk in the middle of the room. Twinkling sky blue eyes surveyed at them from behind half moon spectacles, and a pleasant smile quirked the thin lips of their headmaster upwards as he absorbed the situation in easily, "Hello there, would anyone care for a Lemon drop?" He asked pleasantly, waving his hand over a tin of yellow lollies to his right.

The Weasel walked forward, nodding slowly. Once that matter was handled, the headmaster conjured four seats in front of his desk and waved for them to seat themselves. Severus, Draco and Weasel did so quite quickly, but there was one person who remained standing by the door. Bloody Potter, Draco groaned inwardly.

Draco just wanted to get this matter resolved and get to bed, he was far too tired to even contemplate what the rest of the day would hold for him if his morning was this bad. What stupid git would even attack the Saviour in potions anyway? Never mind that, who would even use an aging potion? Draco sorely wished that they would hurry up and end this simple situation already.

"Well Severus? Is there a reason why you are here other than to introduce me to your nephew?" Albus Dumbledore asked happily, eyes twinkling and fingers creating a temple in front of his chest with his elbows leaning on his arm rests.

Severus choked. Draco blinked. And the Weasel coughed violently on the half dissolved Lemon drop in his mouth. Draco was about to open his mouth to ask Severus if he even had a nephew, when Severus beat him to it, speaking in a low cold tone that suppressed any need for Draco to pose questions to his godfather, "Headmaster, you know well enough that he is not my nephew, as you know who he is."

Dumbledore inclined his head respectfully and nodded, "Right you are Severus, but then, could you perhaps enlighten me to whom is in the room?" He asked.

A groan almost slipped from his lips at that. What a fool, if he couldn't recognise the saviour of the world, what hope is there of Potter even returning to normal? As if sensing his thoughts, Dumbledore glanced knowingly at Draco. He blinked. Wait, just how powerful is Dumbledore?

"He is Harry Potter, Headmaster." Severus hissed, sending a scathing look at the merely pleasant headmaster. "You of all should know who he is."

If the scathing look on Severus' face was angry before, it was purely toxic now. He'd never seen his godfather in such a state before, not even when Potter said something stupid to him. It would have taken a truly abominable question or answer to tick Severus Snape off.

Professor Dumbledore merely hummed in thought, his eyes losing their twinkle as they settled on Draco, "And I suspect that young Mr Draco Malfoy is the culprit of Mr Potter's.. Oh, let us say," His gaze seemed to pierce him, "accident."

Draco shook his head regally, "No professor, I was merely suspected as the culprit due to Mr Potter's and my own rivalry, and if professor Snape," Draco emphasised his godfathers last name with a small amount of venom, "cared enough to listen to my side of the events, I would not be here and you would be finding out who the actual culprit is."

"Bollocks! Absolute bollocks that is professor, Malfoy has it in for us, especially Harry!" A seething red head burst out, glaring fiercely at Draco from his right, "He would've done anything to hurt Harry, and now that he has, he's too much of a coward to even admit to it!"

Dumbledore sighed politely and shook his head slowly, "Ah, schoolyard rivalry, I've not yet seen in all my years such a violent and distinguished battle between two students before."

"You mean to say, that you believe Wease-- Mr Weasley's severely inadequate reasoning when you have not yet heard my own?" Draco balked.

Dumbledore inclined his head towards Draco somewhat thoughtfully, "I suppose you are correct, would you mind shedding some light on your turn of events?" He asked pleasantly enough, but Draco knew when to look for hidden undertones. And he knew that Dumbledore was more than curious, he was intrigued.

Draco ran them by what actually happened, how he was too busy talking to his friends and joking about his bracelet to even so much as look at Potter, and explained what he saw when the phial was throwin at Potter's feet in full detail. By the end of his recount both Severus and the Weasel were looking at him dubiously. He merely ignored them and the sting of betrayal that he felt when he saw the look on Severus' face and continued to watch the headmaster's reaction, but stored away the fact that Severus seemed to doubt him even when he was being truthful. His own godfather.

Dumbledore seemed to take Draco's confession and admittance in his stride, but still seemed intrigued, "Severus, I believe we should ask Harry his account of what happened." Draco held back a snort, like they're going to get anything like that from Potter, he's too young and obviously doesn't have any memories or recollections of their Potter.

Severus nodded sharply before turning in his seat to look back at the corner of the room, where a certain little boy was standing, quiet and petrified. "Potter?" Severus asked softly, "Will you come here please?"

Potter has never looked so afraid before, even when he was accused of being the heir of Slytherin and was petrifying mudbloods in their second year. Little Potter stepped up towards them shyly, biting his lip and rubbing his left wrist quietly. "Yes sir?" He asked quietly, looking from one face to the other, though his eyes slightly narrowed when they skimmed Draco. Git, Draco scoffed inwardly.

Dumbledore smiled kindly down at the little boy, his now twinkling blue eyes watching him from over the half moon spectacles. "Hello Mr Potter, my name is Albus Dumbledore," He said slowly and kindly, "do you know where you are?"

Little Potter shook his head shyly and smiled tentatively up at the bespectacled old man, "No Mr Dumb-bull-door."

A snort escaped him before he could quell it, and half of his face flamed from the glare it recieved from Severus.

"Well, you are at Hogwarts my dear boy, Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry." Dumbledore said humbly, "Would you like a Lemon drop?" He offered, wiving his hand at the tin of lollies.

Potter stared silently up at Dumbledore, "Witchcraft and Wizardy?" He asked lowly.

Dumbledore nodded quietly with a small smile, "Why yes my dear boy."

"Why am I here, sir? I should be at home--" Potter began, beginning for the first time in half an hour, sounding wary, scared, panicked and highly nervous.

Dumbledore waved his hand gently, "Oh my dear boy," he smiled, "you're fine here, your parents know where you are." At those words, Draco noticed that there was a certain false niceness in his smile. Everyone knew Potter's parents were dead, why in Merlin's bed would he bring that up?

Potter's vulnerability wavered slightly and a hard tinge to his face and voice spoke levels that were supposed to be unknown to children, "My parents are dead sir." He said flatly.

Well, what a lovely conversation that is, Draco thought drily. This boy never ceased to enthral him. Dumbledore feigned shock and sympathy, "May I ask how they died?"

Draco's -along with the Weasel's and Severus'- jaw dropped. He'd never known a person with so much gall before -and this was excluding Potter-, especially when asking Potter about how his family died! Great, now he's going to cry! Draco groaned inwardly.

But Potter didn't. Instead he sighed sadly and looked down at his feet, "They died in a car crash, sir."

"A-- a what?" Draco started. Who the hell would say that Harry bloody Potter's family died in a car crash? That's just cruel, it's a scandal!  Draco was scandalised at the thought.

Little Potter turned to him silently and nodded solemnly, "Yeah, they said I was what caused it." Draco would have been surprised that Potter wasn't glaring at him right now, if it weren't for the scandalised thoughts running amuk in his mind on behalf of Potter.

"How old are you, mate?" Weasel asked weakly.

Little Potter looked up at the red head slowly and bit his lip, "Five, sir." He was obviously nervous when talking to complete strangers, especially ones that were looking at him like he was a freak. And in most ways, he was.

It was quiet as they thought, Severus and Dumbledore never once took their eyes off of Potter and Weasel was munching on more Lemon drops. Draco, was silently berating himself on his inarticulate question. He was Malfoy, Malfoys do not stutter nor do they phrase words in such an abysmal manner.

"I suggest you keep him with you, Mr Malfoy." Dumbledore said after five minutes of deliberation.

The room rose in temperature and Draco would swear later, that what he did was justified and proper.

"What?!"   

Chapter Text

Chapter Three
~~~~~~~~~~The Snake~~~~~~~~~~

“I can't believe this, you actually have to take care of Potter?” Pansy stressed, her eyes widening incredulously with every word. This action obviously stung her eyes, but Draco knew that she couldn't care less about whatever stung or hurt her when it came to her friends, especially her former boyfriend, though that word sounded so undignified at the best of times.

After their meeting in Dumbledore's office, Draco was severely stressed, upset and utterly humiliated. He had to take care of Potter, his school-yard and maybe even lifetime, rival, the Boy Who Lived, the Boy Wonder, the Golden Boy and foolhardy Gryffindor. He could barely look at Potter before without sniggering and trying different ways of getting him into trouble, and now he had to take care of an infant Potter? Was this some cruel, sick joke made by the universe? Or was it Karma, finally biting him in the arse? Draco groaned and rubbed at the bridge of his nose, “Shut up Pansy.” Of all the days in the year to be a danger whore, Potter just had to pick this one.

“Oh please, did you not see the way he looked? He's practically a stick! I would not be surprised if he died by malnutrition.” Said Blaise indignantly. Draco noted with little to no disdain, that Blaise's Italian accent was thicker today, or at least, at this very minute. Usually Blaise's Italian accent came out more whenever he was incredibly frustrated, or highly emotional, like now.

“Madam Pomfrey's examining him now Blaise, and if he's well enough he'll be joining us here to eat dinner, so you can stop your inner Italian from worrying.” Draco offered, staring down at his full silver plate with disdain.

“I wonder why he has so many bruises?” Pansy asked foolishly, and blushed when three sets of sneering eyes set upon her, Draco's being the prominent one, “I mean, of course they were inflicted by someone, but why?”

“She makes a good point.” Blaise pointed out unhelpfully when no one said anything, before nodding and immersing himself in his thoughts. Goyle clearly agreed with Blaise, but didn't even bother nodding or replying, so he instead busied himself with shovelling food into his mouth and grunting.

Oh but who really cares? Draco would have said as such, if it weren't for the fact that no matter who whatever child would grow up to be, Pansy would protect it, she always did remind him of a mother Dragon. “He probably deserved it, knowing Potter.” He said instead, poking at his creamy mash potatoes uninterestedly.

“Nobody deserves that sort of treatment Draco, not even Potter.”

If it weren't for his buzzing brain, he would have thought that Pansy had actually said that. But what she must have said was, “It serves the git right.” Yes, he thought absently, I rather like the sound of that last one more.

Their conversation strayed from the good old 'beaten path' -which was code for 'Potter talk'- and to a more particularly interesting topic which had most of the other Slytherin's riled up, Draco was only half listening due to his mind being occupied by very depressing thoughts, but he thought it was about a lovers spat between Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas. Wouldn't surprise him, they've been together every waking hour for the past six years, they were bound to have a row sooner or later and it must've been about something incredibly stupid by their count.

A hard shove to his ribs roused him from his musings, “Yes?” He asked the ever so lovely Pansy that he loved ever so much.

She stared at him for a moment, searching his face thoughtfully for only a moment before rolling her eyes, “Potter's here,” she said, going back to her half-full plate and scooping a small spoonful of mashed potatoes gracefully into her mouth and then just as gracefully turned to the girl beside her and struck up a conversation.

Draco groaned again, and almost threw his face into his plate in a bid to hide himself. Why must life be so difficult? He thought dreadfully. He scanned the hall, noting with slight curiosity that it was far too silent, and looked for the mop of unruly black hair. He couldn't see the little git anywhere with so many black robes. Damn this school and its uniform, He thought heatedly, and stretched in his seat to look over the rows of heads in front of him.

“He's right there Draco, don't get your knickers in a bunch.” Goyle said slyly, pointing at the entrance without looking up from his plate.

Draco pulled up short for a moment, thinking about something that could help get him off the hook, “I know, I was just looking for Severus.” He lied, continuing on in his 'search'. Much to his annoyance and weariness, Goyle just snorted. “Really, I am.” Draco lied again, this time putting in more effort to make it sound more believable.

Goyle snorted again and pointed to the opposite wall of the entrance, “If you were then you'd have looked at the professor's table, you git. I'm not as stupid as I look.”

Oh really? He wanted to say, but that sounded far too harsh and far more mean than he wanted to come off as. He liked having Goyle as a friend, and if not a friend, then a bodyguard, and insulting his intelligence was certainly one way of ruining any friendship that they'd built up over the years. And so Draco settled for a more insightful approach, “Huh.”

Elegant, very elegant, He thought to himself disdainfully. He would have said something more elegant and Malfoy-like to Goyle, but another dig to his ribs had him looking to Pansy, and he immediately cringed when she looked like that fat old toad, Umbridge.

“Draco, you have to go get Potter.” Pansy simpered, singing the words to him and batting her eyelashes. Oh bother, he thought angrily.

Harry stood at the opening of the Great Hall with wide -and for once, clear- eyes, the old man behind the huge desk had given him glasses to wear, they were round and let Harry see everything perfectly, something Harry hadn't been able to do ever since he could see, but that wasn't the only kindness the man had done for him. He was told all about how he had gotten to be where he was, how lucky he was when they found him unconscious on a random street with a bleeding head. He'd thanked them as much as he could for saving him, but ended up getting tongue-tied after only a minute. He was still very, very dizzy.

The tall red headed man stood to his right with a pensive frown on his freckled face, “You alright mate? You still feeling dizzy?” He -Ron- asked.

Harry bit his lip and nodded slowly up at Ron, “Yes sir.”

This seemed to pain Ron almost as much as it had when he'd told them about how his parents had died. But thankfully, Ron didn't seem to hate him as much as anyone else did, like that blond man. Harry scuffed the floor gently with his sneaker covered foot and bit his lip, “There's a lot of people in there, isn't there?” He asked gently.

“Well,” Ron began gently, kneeling down beside him, “yes, but they won't hurt you, not when I'm there.” He assured him, patting his shoulder lightly and smiling slightly.

Harry doubted him, there were too many instances in his life where someone said that they wouldn't hurt him, and ended up doing so almost immediately after assuring him, and for another moment in his life, Harry wished that he was different. “Okay.” Harry smiled tensely, but didn't say anything else. No, he wouldn't speak unless spoken to. That was one of the rules.

“I have to take you to Ferret now.” Harry looked down at his feet and nodded politely. He really didn't want to go anywhere near anyone, he wanted to be alone, to think without being stared or glared at. He just wanted to be home, wherever home was.

A hand placed itself on the place between his shoulders, and nudged him forward lightly. The hall was huge, it was also highly warm and welcoming, something Harry hadn't seen before. Candles were floating in mid-air and there was no roof over their heads, just a starry sky that seemed to smile at him. There were also four very long and very full tables of people with differently coloured robes. How odd, He thought, studying them carefully.

“That table belongs to the Ravenclaw house,” Ron began when he saw Harry's perplexed gaze, pointing at a table full of people with blue and bronze coloured robes, “That table belongs to the Hufflepuff house,” he pointed at the table full of people with yellow and black coloured robes, “That table belongs to the Gryffindor house, our- my house,” he stated proudly, ignoring his blunder and pointed at a table full of people with red and gold coloured robes, and then with a very tense shake in his finger, which started to curl like the rest into a fist, he pointed his fist lowly at the last table full of silent people with silver and green coloured robes, “And that's the Slytherin house, quite a nasty lot, and they're our rivals.”

“Mm yes, the Gryffindor house is a nasty lot.”

Harry turned to see the blond man from before and scowled, but didn't say anything. Don't speak unless spoken to, He chided himself. But that of course, didn't stop him from outright glaring at the man. If the man didn't speak to him and allow him to hurl words at him, then he'd speak to him through his eyes how much he disliked him. Harry would have been surprised at himself, but then he realised, the blond man wouldn't hit him, not with so many people watching at least.

The blond man glared back just as readily, “You'll be sitting with us at the Slytherin table, Potter, so you'd best employ whatever manners you have.” He drawled tightly, curling his hands into fists at his sides and tilting his nose up at him.

He spoke to me! Harry cheered inwardly, and smugly said, “Then you better learn some quickly before we get there.” He smiled a seemingly cheerful smile, though underneath that, it was calculating. Harry knew what it meant to be asked to eat dinner with someone, that being the Dursley's, and it usually meant punishment.

The blond man reared back slightly as if shocked by something and had the gall to look murderous, “Why you little--”

“Oh hello there Potter,” A very pretty black haired woman said politely, sliding up beside the seething blond and precariously placing her hand on his shoulder, “I see that you are well.” She nodded tensely to Ron, but otherwise didn't look at him.

“Yes ma'am.” Harry nodded politely up at the woman, noting how the glare changed to a sneer on the blonde's face almost immediately upon contact with the woman, “I trust you are well?” He asked politely.

The woman stilled, blinking down at him blankly, “What have they done to you?” She whispered, though it didn't really look like it because her lips were almost still.

Does she know? He didn't think his heart could take the panic of someone else knowing what went on behind closed doors swelling in him, so he smiled blithely and said, “I don't know what you mean.”

“Right, well, seeing as ferret can't even cope talking to him, I'll take him.” Ron grinned down at Harry and began to nudge him to the Gryffindor table. The people at the table smiled jovially at Harry when he smiled hesitantly at them and they quickly cleared a space for both him and Ron to sit in. They looked nice enough- Harry caught sight of a few giggling girls that both pointed and made cooing noises- never mind, I was wrong.

“No, I'm to take care of him Weasel,” Came the drawling voice again, just before they could reach the table, “unless you would like to face the wrath of professor Snape?”

Ron froze beside him, his hand digging into the soft spot between Harry's shoulders. He wouldn't, would he? Harry watched the red headed man's face carefully, noting how lined and regretful it was becoming. He would. Harry sighed inwardly, but took the half decided choice out of the red haired man's tense hands, “It's okay Ron, I'll see you around.” He kept as much disappointment out of his voice as he could and smiled up at the startled red head, before turning on spot and striding over to the stupid blond man and pretty black haired woman, who immediately smiled at him and held her hand out to him as if he were to take it or hold it. Was he supposed to? He slowed to a stop beside them and eyed it warily, and glanced up at the woman's face. She was waiting patiently for him to take it.

With a tense frown sliding to the surface on his face. This was definitely new territory for him, he'd never held someone's hand before, much less a woman's. His lungs seemed to stop as he hovered his hand over hers, slowly lowering it in case the woman didn't wish for him to hold it. When she didn't pull away, and his hand was millimetres from touching hers, he finally allowed his finger tips to touch lightly to her palm. It was slightly cold, as if it were holding ice that had melted, but it was motherly and.. accepting. Harry watched the woman's hand with baited breath, but the woman didn't flinch nor draw her hand back to hit him. It was safe. Harry accepted her hand with a small smile and noticed the silence around them. Harry almost had a heart-attack when she smiled back. “My name is Pansy Parkinson.” She said warmly, though she had hesitated slightly when he smiled a little brighter.

“That's a pretty name,” He said truthfully, “My name is Harry Potter.”

A small but beautiful smile curved her lips, “It's nice to meet you Harry.”

Draco was utterly miserable.

Pansy hadn't even spoken a word to him in the past five minutes about how stupid Potter was, or about how short he was for his age, no if anything, she seemed enthralled with him. Just like stupid Goyle and Blaise and the rest of the lot. He was just waiting for them to abandon him and begin hanging out with the newly improved Potter, he was -fortunately- silent and -unfortunately and surprisingly- seemingly intelligent for his age. After all, how many five year olds talk like a ten year old? Especially a muggle raised half-blood such as Potter? Draco really couldn't decide if he was impressed, or annoyed.

“So, Harry,” Blaise emphasised Potter's first name with a small smirk in Draco's direction, “what would you like to eat?”

Oh brilliant question Blaise, He thought wryly, clearly worth asking an indecisive five year old.

Potter stretched up in his seat to see over the edge of the bowls in front of him, a small frown on his face, “You mean I can have some of this?” He asked dumbly, pointing at the large bowl of steaming mashed potatoes. Draco let out a snort.

Pansy blinked wearily at Draco before giving Potter the same look, though it changed into a smile quicker then lightning when Potter looked up at her, “Of course Harry, you can anything you want here.” She assured him, waving at the array of lovely looking food.

Potter paled slightly and slowly recoiled into his seat, away from her and him, seeing as he was in the middle of them, “Oh.” He whispered, looking at the table longingly. Draco watched something akin to terror flicker across the younger boys face in interest. He's afraid of food? That must be why he's so small.

“What's wrong Harry? Are you not feeling well?” Pansy stressed, searching all over his face carefully.

Draco let out a world weary sigh and decided to do something before she could do anything too drastic, she was known for becoming more protective and vicious than madam Pomfrey, which was quite a feat, seeing as the woman was practically downright scary, and Draco decided quite quickly that a silent Potter was better than a squeaky and frightened Potter, “What's wrong now Potter?” And if he were going to take care of Potter, he might as well do it properly, especially if that oaf Dumbledore will be watching him.

Potter shook his raven haired head politely, which was slightly jerky, “Can I please have some toast?” He asked contritely, biting his lip. Toast? Draco blinked. Who the hell has toast for dinner?

“Would you like some toast?” Goyle asked, leaning forward slightly to watch Potter's reaction.

Potter shook his head hesitantly

“Then what would you like?” Pansy pressed.

Potter bit his lip and shook his head again.

“You're not hungry? But you just were a minute ago.” Blaise pointed out, a little frustratedly.

If Draco were Potter's age, he would have been sent to his room already with a smacked bottom for being so frustratingly indecisive. So Draco did the most logical and natural thing he could think of, “Fine, you shall go to bed with no supper.” He sneered, putting as much hatred and dislike into those words as he could.

Potter nodded jerkily enough for his glasses to slip down his nose to the tip, before pushing the bridge of those hideous round glasses up the bridge of his nose with his index finger, and slightly magnified green eyes stared into Draco's with an intensity incapable of children, “Where will I be sleeping?” He asked softly.

The four of them stared at Potter as if he were one of Hagrid's blast-ended skrewts. Why is it always different when it comes Potter? Draco thought annoyedly to himself, before shaking himself from his stupor and sneering down at the annoyingly indecisive git, “You'll be rooming with Blaise, Crabbe, Goyle and myself in the Slytherin dormitory.”

Potter's mop of unruly black hair bobbed and he hummed to himself thoughtfully. Honestly, the next thing best thing for Potter to do would be if he was rocking back and forth and muttering in a different language, Draco thought, cautiously raising an eyebrow up at Pansy, who seemed to be thinking along the same lines as himself, as she raised an eyebrow up at him and gestured down to a still nodding Potter almost immediately. Pansy and Draco had these types of silent conversations nearly all the time, it was like a Slytherin thing, though only Pansy and Draco seemed to really get what they were saying to each other.

And they would have continued their silent conversation for a few more minutes, if it were not for a loud throat clearing behind them, and then a familiar pale hand laid itself upon Potter's shoulder, “Shall we get you settled in, Potter?” Severus asked, gently squeezing his hand upon the tense shoulders.

Potter looked up at Severus with curious but soothed eyes and nodded slowly, well, far slower and calmer than before. "Yes please sir."

Harry kept his gaze low as the seven of them made their way down the dungeon hallways. He'd taken it upon himself to memorize where they'd gone, though he only really paid any attention whenever they turned a corner or there were any significant changes in scenery, like say, a rather terrifying moving gargoyle sneering at him and spitting 'half-blood' at him like it was a curse. To Harry, it seemed like it and had flinched a little, but the others barely paid any attention to it, if anything, they just brushed it off as if it were a common occurrence. Which it was, seeing as they had to walk past it every day.

The cold air of the dungeons soothed Harry's boiling cheeks and caressed him like a mother, comforting any fears and soothing his worries, which surprised him to no end. When he'd first heard the word 'dungeon' he'd expected something evil and looming, like something was going to eat him. But now that he was actually in the dungeons, he'd realised that it was the opposite, he felt at home and welcome, safe almost. He knew that Pansy was watching his reactions, and that she was waiting for something. And he'd found out exactly what when they stopped in front of a large portrait of a rather large, and seemingly terrifying snake. Its large black eyes watched them angrily, its jaw opening and closing in threatening hisses. But it was the hisses that made his draw drop in shock.

A warm and motherly hand placed itself on his shoulders and squeezed, "It's alright Harry, it won't hurt you." Pansy soothed, tracing circles tenderly on his shoulder.

Harry slowly closed his jaw slowly, coming to his senses enough to say to the seething coiling snake, "That's a very, very bad word."

It shut up, along with the others. It began to stare at him intensely, before saying, "You understand me?" In a very old and bitter voice, though there was surprise and shock mingling with the bitterness.  

Harry stared back at it just as intensely as it had stared him just moments ago, "Yes, why wouldn't I?" And tilted his head to the side in confusion. The snake regarded him for a moment, sliding its tail slowly over the mound of green grass it laid upon. Harry would've thought this strange, if it weren't for what he had seen on his way to the big hall and on the way to here. This seemed to be the most natural and acceptable thing for him.

"You are different from the others, and far too young," Its black eyes brightened a shade, "You are a very powerful wizard, a wizard worthy of Slytherin house," And then its gaze travelled from him and onto the others, "Unlike these," It drew out the 's' until it mixed in well with the swear words it began spewing.

And with each swear word, Harry's face became pinker and pinker, "Yes, yes," He said, drawing the snake's attention back to him, "Can I please come in? I'm very tired."

Harry's cheeks were near bursting when he noticed the other's staring at him, though he couldn't decipher what emotions they were feeling just at that second, his head was spinning again. The snake nodded gracefully, its tongue flicking out as if to taste the air it could never reach, "Yes, of course. The password is, Salazar the Great." It said emphatically, pressing on the last word.

Harry bit his lip and said, "Salazar the Great." And the portrait swung open.

"What did that snake say?" Goyle asked interestedly from his spot in front of the fire that they'd all settled by as soon as they'd entered the freezing common room. Draco had to admit, he too was curious, the snake had seemed to be quite charmed by Potter, and had very easily given him their password, something that it had not done for anyone else, although none of those people ever actually knew that the snake was speaking outright words, usually they had to get permission from Severus, whom it seemed to love. Though it did close a little too quickly after Potter had entered just before Severus, the supposed favourite. He wondered why the snake seemed quite taken with Potter, why it had abandoned Severus just after one encounter with Potter. It seemed that Draco wasn't the only one wondering why the snake was so taken by Potter, for his friends and Godfather hadn't left them alone like they would every day. 

Potter's cheeks pinked, "He was very nice to me." The But not you, wasn't said, but it was still heard. What did the snake say about the pure-bloods that had startled Potter so?

"Yes, but what did he say?" Piped up Blaise, who was laying on his back in front of the fire, his legs propped up on the couch where he usually sat and his head resting just inches away from Goyle's feet extended feet.

Potter snorted unexpectedly, surprising even Draco, and said quite shortly, "He said very, very bad things."

Okay, he could let this slide, but only to spring it up on the small git when he was least expecting it. Draco knew how to be patient, he knew how to wait. For a very limited amount of time, but he could let this slide, of course he'd let this slide, but only if the small git would talk to the snake and tell it to be at least a tad more nicer to them. If not for that reason, than for his aching curiosity. Draco hadn't met anyone -other than Potter- that could speak Parseltongue, he'd even forgotten one of the most important events in history, the event in second year when Potter was accused and suspected of releasing a monster in the castle that petrified mud-bloods, and was suspected and accused of being the heir of Slytherin, which was pretty false. Although, the more that Draco though upon this, he realised that Potter did have Slytherin qualities, like the smirk that he always gave his enemies whenever they were fighting, or the way his green eyes flared- green, one of the Slytherin colours, yet another quality.

"I suggest you all go to bed, it is only the first day of the year." Severus chided, standing gracefully from his spot in one of the straight-backed chairs closest to the fire. Though his words were directed at all of them, his gaze didn't leave Potter's, and when Draco looked down at Potter he realised why. Potter was asleep. Though not exactly peacefully, Draco noted, his eyes hadn't closed all the way and his breath was slightly laboured. And his hands were clenched into fists.

Severus strode to them quietly, and very gently slid his hands under Potter's still body. Potter's head lolled back as he was raised from the couch, and he jerked sleepily forward, his eyes cracking open a little further in confusion, "Wha..?" He mumbled sleepily, and very pitifully. Severus pulled to the small body to his chest softly yet carefully and hooked his arm under Potter and rested his hand on the back of Potter's head, "Where..?" Potter mumbled incoherently.

Severus pushed Potter's lolling head gently onto his shoulder, softly trailing his fingers through the surprisingly tangle-free tangles, "Shh Potter, go back to sleep." He soothed, leaning back slightly to help keep Potter comfortable against his chest. No matter how severe or cold Severus was portrayed to be, he was actually very kind behind closed doors, or at least far away from any other house students or teachers, he'd always had a thing for calming people, and he was definitely in his element at that moment. He was also very experienced with children, though he'd had no children of his own. Draco had asked Severus why he hadn't had children or a wife, but Severus had only disclosed that the woman he loved had died, and he'd had no wish to move on. It was quite pathetic in Draco's eyes.

They followed a murmuring Severus across the cold green and silver decorated common room and into their dorm room, and spotted something curious. And then they stopped dead. In the corner of the far wall, was a cupboard door, a cupboard door that wasn't there before. Draco glanced warily at Blaise, who glanced confusedly back at him, and Goyle scuffed his toe on the floor. Crabbe was already snoring on his bed with the curtains drawn and impervioused, so he was clearly unable to feel the tension or confusion in the room. What the hell did they need an extra cupboard for? Especially one so tiny. There was no extra bed, nor a thing of Potters. No way in hell am I sharing my things with Potter, Draco scoffed to himself.

And as Severus made his way to the cupboard door and waved his wand at it, its purpose became clear.

"Oh Merlin.." Blaise gasped.

Chapter Text

Inside the very small and very tiny cupboard, laid a very small and very lumpy looking mattress, complete with an almost too thin and scratchy looking blanket, a sturdy looking pillow that looked to be the equivalent to a cinder-block, and a low hanging stair-shaped roof that housed a few.. -Dare Draco's eyes be correct?- spiders.

Draco watched the greasy curtains of Severus' black hair slide forward onto the top of Potter's head with narrowed eyes.Why was Severus treating Potter like this? Severus surely couldn't feel anything other than hatred for him, so why would he act like he cares? Maybe he really does care. The thought seemed to scare him far more than he thought, his heart was still thumping against his chest like an agitated and angry owl's wings against a poor and rickety cage door, when Severus' greasy haired head ducked into the small cupboard, his somewhat slim shoulders barely managing to slide in through the small doorway after his head in an effort to help lean Potter in further, and very slowly, Severus lowered the small and almost disgustingly thin body onto the mattress.

Although Draco was further away from the cupboard than anyone else, he could still see the way that Potter wriggled uncomfortably on top of the stiff set, although he hadn't woken up, nor had he frowned, or grunted, or groaned at the severely uncomfortable looking set. Instead, the boy merely wriggled closer to the wall and settled into a.. was it a groove? Or was there a gap between the mattress and the wall? With one further glance, Draco concluded that it was indeed a groove. But made by what? Surely Severus wouldn't have lain down for hours on end to create the groove, a couple of hours ago they were all in the Headmaster's office talking about the situation.

If it weren't for the gentle caring he'd seen before, he would've thought that his godfather was intentionally punishing Potter, but, that just brought up more confusing and hesitant subjects, like, was his godfather cruel enough to make Potter sleep in a very tiny cupboard, or, was he wise to make Potter sleep in the tiny and -albeit stiff and uncomfortable- secluded cupboard? If he were being punished by Severus, like when he was younger for instance, he would have had a smacked bottom and maybe -sometimes- a toy taken away from him.

If this was under normal circumstances, Draco would have been delighted at the fact that the lumpy mattress in the small cupboard was just as lumpy as it looked and Potter was the one suffering through it even as a small boy, but, of course this wasn't a normal circumstance, it never really was when it came to him. And then a thought that truly bottled his mind came to light.

Potter was de-aged. Potter was a child again for Merlin's sake and he seemed to be utterly oblivious to their situation at hand, especially seeing as the hand had forced Draco's protection, and on Potter, but this whole situation seemed a little.. curious. De-aging potions merely changed the body physically, no matter how powerful it would be, nothing but a confundus or perhaps even a memory altering charm could give them this result, like Obliviate. And since Potter was de-aged by potion and no one had even dared to utter a single spell -other than Severus-, he should still have his memories, as it was only his body that was attacked, not his mind.

Or was it.

Right now all Draco wanted to do was just lay down in his comfortable bed and sleep away the days uncomfortable and torturous events. But Draco couldn't bear to sleep near such a vulnerable Potter, maybe it was his nerves, or maybe it was the fact that he was a Deatheater's son and had survivors instincts telling him to take Potter straight to the Dark Lord. Or perhaps it was that Potter was in such a pitiful state and he hadn't been the one to cause it.

Nerves of all sorts were jangling around in his head and stomach, reminding him of his father's keys, the many keys of many important places that were charmed to a steel chain, the chain his father usually jangled to amuse himself. But he had to ask a question, perhaps many more later, but now he only wanted one explanation.

“Severus,” Draco began quietly, clearing his throat to gain their attention, “what is this?” Draco asked lowly, gesturing to the cupboard that held a quietly sleeping Potter. A severely blank and.. was Draco's perfect eyes really deceiving him? Or did Potter's face really look like an inferi's?

Severus drew his head out of the cupboard and slowly turned to them, eyes ablaze and nostrils flared. With a small scowl, Severus swung the door shut quietly to hide the sleeping Boy Wonder, and waved his wand in a complicated movement over the surface of the door, which glowed silver around the edges, without taking his eyes off of Draco's face. He knew better than to push for Severus' answer right away, he'd let Severus calm down and answer him himself, which usually meant, in other words, a stare down that measured the level of intimidation between them. And right now, Draco was feeling pretty intimidated by his godfather and stern Potion's master. And not to mention small and insignificant.

“You must all listen carefully,” Severus began quietly, tearing his eyes away from Draco's long enough to glare at the others with cold and piercing black eyes, “Potter is not like other children, he has not had the upbringing you all have had the pleasure of experiencing, he has not had the pleasure of a mothers touch, nor the comfort of a hug, he is very tender, very fragile. Any wrong movement will set him off.”

A scoff flew from his mouth before he could quell it, so instead of backing down, Draco managed to scrape up a small bout of courage that usually wasn't there, “Not like any other child? Not have the same upbringing as us? Not have the pleasure of a mothers touch or a hug?” Draco let out another scoff, “Oh please Severus, you speak of Potter as if he isn't the Saviour of the wizarding world and hasn't had the pleasure of getting whatever he wanted.” Like the world at his feet, Draco thought darkly.

Severus stared at him blankly, his piercing black eyes never leaving his godson's face, “I never thought of you as naïve, Draco.” He confessed, a small but disappointed frown tilting the corners of his lips down. The small bottomless pit in his stomach began to inch wider and wider and he began to wonder if he'd implode in on himself from it. Disappointment was never a good thing, and he'd never had it shown to him before, nor caused it for anyone. Especially his godfather. His throat started to burn before he could think any further.

Blaise cleared his throat quietly, drawing their attention to him before Draco could start crying, “As lovely as this is gentlemen,” He began quietly, giving Draco a pointed look and then looking to Severus, a small frown on his face, “I would like to know what you mean.”

Severus glanced down at the small door, his lips turned down in a frown, “Harry Potter isn't quite as lucky as you imagine,” He began, and with a start, Draco realised that Severus had used Potter's full name, something that had never happened before, and upon that realisation Draco froze in shock, and it seemed that their dorm room temperature had lowered as well, “He's been through so much in such a small lifetime, never quite landing himself a break, but I do not think it wise to reveal to you all such a personal piece of Potter's life, either he will tell you, or you will never know. When Mr Malfoy awakens tomorrow, Potter's door will unlock, and only until then will he be let out.”

And then without so much as a glance in Draco's direction, Severus stalked out of their dorm room, his black cloak billowing out behind him magnificently.

Someone was giggling.

“Oi! Shut up cazzo strozo!” A bleary voice drawled sleepily from.. somewhere. Draco knew it had to be Blaise, seeing as neither Crabbe or Goyle knew so much as the number one in Italian. And luckily enough for them, they didn't understand what he'd said, which was actually quite vile.

The giggling became muffled, thankfully. Great, now Draco could continue in his slumber like nothing happened, and just as he was on the brink of unconsciousness, it happened again.

“Pansy! Shh!” Goyle -or was it Crabbe?- hissed.

It was blissfully dark when Draco opened his eyes and he realised why when his curtains were still drawn, and then he remembered -albeit sluggishly- that he'd taken extra measures in closing and sealing the hangings around his bed as soon as he'd laid down, and now that no one and nothing could get in, he truly realised how spectacular magic really was.

“Oh come now Goyle! He's just accomplished something truly spectacular!” Pansy giggled again, this time slightly louder, and Draco heard a few faint thuds. Pansy must be enjoying herself if she'd hit herself like that. As surprising as Potter de-aging may be, it was even more so when one realised that Pansy was one of those people that hit themselves if they laughed too much and didn't know what to do, but she rarely turned on someone and hit them whilst in one of her laughing fits. So that was purely a bonus.

“Yes, but he shouldn't be able to do this yet, he's much too young and Severus' much too powerf--” Goyle began, uncharacteristically stressful.

“Oh lighten up Goyle! Harry's one of the most powerful wizards in the history of magic, Severus ought to have known better when he locked him in a tiny closet that Harry would automatically break free.”

“But-!” Goyle protested.

“But nothing Goyle!” Pansy giggled, once again succeeding in cutting him off. Draco was starting to feel the need to open the hangings and see what Potter was doing that was making his friend -bodyguard- so antsy. And so he did. He slipped the hangings open and sat up in his bed, rubbing his eyes blearily.

Pansy's giggling cut off, “Morning Draco!” She said cheerfully instead.

Bending backwards to wake up his sleeping muscles, Draco groaned out a, “Morning Pansy.” And then proceeded to twist in his spot, cracking joints and waking up his sleeping muscles. When he felt that his eyes were better adjusted to the light behind his eyes, they opened. And widened in shock.

Potter's door was open. Potter had broken one of Severus Snape's wards.

Shock was the main emotion of course, other than awe and scepticism, he should and would have felt more, if it were not that he was still tired. “When did this..?” He yawned loudly, cutting himself off.

“Isn't it incredible? He's successfully broken one of Severus Snape's famous wards! He's definitely a Slytherin in the making!” Pansy cheered, clapping and staring excitedly at the cupboard. Draco took notice of the way the cupboard door was open slightly, as if someone had nudged it in their sleep, but he couldn't make sure because his eyes were so blurry.

“How? No one's ever succeeded- nor tried for that matter- in breaking one of Severus Snape's wards.” Rubbing his eyes, he swung his legs over the side of his large bed and yawned.

“Well he is one of the most powerful wizards of our time, and not to mention before it.” Pansy pointed out. Draco cast a wary glance at her, and noticed her observing her pale pink nails as if they were the most important and prettiest things in the world. Either she knew something, or was trying to fish for details.

Grabbing his wand, he cast a quick Tempus. It was barely seven thirty, his friends were usually asleep until eight or so, and then they always had the usual mad rush to get ready. “What are you all doing up so early?” He asked, and then he did a double take, “Wait, what the hell are you doing in our dorm Pansy?”

Pansy blushed a little and bit her lip, but didn't reply.

“Well what about you Goyle?” He began, turning to face the slightly squashed face of his best friend and bodyguard, “What are you doing up so early? You're usually the one who sleeps like a mountain troll.”

Goyle's squashed face flushed red, “Well, I- uh..” He sputtered. He jabbed his finger at the small cupboard door, which stood ajar. “I woke up when the door opened, I heard crying.” His flush worsened when Draco's eyes narrowed.

Potter, crying? He's been through so much in such a small lifetime, never quite landing himself a break, Severus' voice drifted in his ears. What did he have to deal with in such an early stage of his life that causes him to cry? He thought about the information that his father had told him. When Potter's parents died, Potter was taken to live with his muggle relatives. What could be so bad about that, even if they were muggles?

“Crying?”

Goyle nodded once, “It sounded bad, but when I went to go and check on him Pansy popped in.” He shrugged and jerked his head at the too quiet girl on the floor, “Didn't give me much a chance to do anything else.”

Pansy huffed from her spot on the floor, “Oh please, I even tried to check on him, it was you who didn't give me a chance to do anything.”

Goyle's red face turned purple, “Didn-- Are you serious right now? I--”

“Shh!” Someone was crying. Draco bit his lip and stood from his spot on his bed. He barely cast anyone a glance as he made his way towards the cupboard door. What's wrong with Potter now?

“Freak!” Uncle Vernon snarled, bringing his pudgy fist down on Harry's bare back roughly, “Look at what you did! What would the neighbours say!” He struck again, and again, and again.

Harry bit back a scream, all he could do was allow this to happen, allow uncle Vernon to punish him. His back was aching, he could feel it already bruising and knew, just knew that it'd be black and blue tomorrow. He'd accidentally broken the window in the lounge room when Dudley pushed him against it. He thought that his head had hit it, but couldn't remember when the back of his had actually touched the glass.

“Stupid freak! You should have died with your disgusting useless parents in that car!” Uncle Vernon sneered, bringing his fist down on the small of his back. A small crack sounded and Harry knew that it was his spine, he couldn't feel his legs. But did that stop his uncle?

“Get in your cupboard freak!” Uncle Vernon snarled, shoving Harry off of his lap with a whoosh. Harry struggled to move his legs, but it was hard to move something when you couldn't feel it. A hard kick to his ribs had the air leaving his lungs. “I said get in your cupboard!” Uncle Vernon roared.

And then he was in his cupboard, darkness covering everything and creating movements in the shadows. His lungs seemed to malfunction when he still couldn't feel his legs, “No..” He whimpered, reaching out to clutch at his legs. But they weren't there. “No..!” He cried, fumbling around in the darkness for his legs.

“Shut up freak! You don't deserve to have legs, you don't deserve to have anything!” A voice, sounding suspiciously like is uncle, sneered in the darkness.

He shook his head frantically. It's not true, he hadn't done anything to deserve anything bad, “No--!”

A bright green light blinded him, smothering him with a darkness impervious to the light. High pitched cackling froze him entirely, freezing his lungs and choking him viciously with invisible fingers.

“NO!” He choked.

“Harry!”

Light, white and magnificent, glowed around a man with pure messy white hair, his grey eyes were wide and held an unfamiliar emotion in their stormy depths. “Harry?” His voice was muffled amongst the buzzing in his ears. Was he still dreaming? He could see the small familiar walls of his cupboard around him.

“No..” He croaked. This was all a bad dream, he was in his cupboard, he would wake up any moment to aunt Petunia's sneering voice. He glanced down at his legs- they were there!

“Harry?” The muffled voice asked again.

Harry looked up at the blond haired man with wide blurry eyes, even though he knew that he was wearing glasses. Everything was becoming blurry and, watery. He was crying. He could see bright green behind the man and froze, “Green light, green light, green light..” He whispered.

Something very large and very warm brought his hands together and covered them. He looked down with wide eyes. There were two very large hands covering his own, they were very pale and slender.

“Harry?” The voice asked again. It was the blond man.

“Am I dead?” He asked quietly.

The blond man shook his head gently and slowly, staring into his eyes carefully. “No.” He said firmly.

Darkness was beginning to creep up on him again, this time more insistent, and he only had one chance to say what he needed to before this beautiful dream ended and another nightmare began, “I should be.”

Chapter Text

Chapter Five
Potion's

"Do you think we should wake him?" Pansy asked quietly.

They were all sitting by the fire in the Slytherin common room, though instead of the straight backed chairs from the night before, they'd transfigured one or two into Muggle seats known as, bean bags. They were actually quite comfortable, they didn't sag and if they did they did it in the right places, though it would be incredibly bad for their posture.

Draco was sat closest to their dorm room door, just in case he heard Harry start crying again. He'd tried to ward the door closed, at least for peace of mind, but as soon as he'd stepped back from the door, it would slide open just a tad. It was increasingly annoying, yet fascinating. Draco might not be the most powerful Wizard of their time, but he certainly wasn't one of the weakest, his wards were almost fool proof, though the occasional bumbling idiot still broke into one or two, like his charm for the dorm that only allowed Severus and the residents of the dorm, Pansy had gotten in easily. But it would be prudent that he didn't tell her that he just thought of her as a bumbling idiot.

"He needs to sleep, he'd probably tossed and turned all night I bet." Goyle said dimly, staring into the flames, absentmindedly fiddling with the edge of his outer robes.

They'd silently awoken Blaise and set to getting ready, being mindful of being too loud for the sake of waking Harry up. Yes, Draco had decided to abandon the use of Harry's last name as if it were a curse, and now used his given name quite frequently, seeing as all of his thoughts revolved around the messy black haired, green eyed boy sleeping fitfully in the newly made small cupboard -or hole in the wall if you wanted to be specific- in their dorm room.

"It's better he be awake than be tortured in his sleep." Blaise pointed out darkly, his chocolate eyes staring into the flames like Goyle's, though not nearly as dim as the other. Draco noticed the look of thoughtfulness on his friends face, and obviously knew that Blaise was either planning something, or was becoming heavily involved in something he was not meant to be involved in.

Like this situation.

"I'd wake him, but he doesn't want me, nor either of you." Pansy smiled warmly at Blaise, who blushed upon realising that he'd just moved to stand in the direction of the dorm room and quickly reshuffled himself into the fold of the comfortable bean bag, Draco raised an eyebrow at Blaise's now, well, blazing face.  "He wants Draco." She added, grinning at Draco with one of her winsome smiles. He knew it from the get-go that she wanted him to 'bury the bad blood' and just be civil to Harry, but clearly, he hadn't shifted his stance towards the idea, instead, he'd full on sprinted away from it. No way in Merlin's green pants would he have apologised to Harry.

Well, that had obviously hadn't changed any, she still wanted him to get along with Harry, but the problem was, is, that Harry didn't remember Draco doing anything bad to him at all. It was one of those rare situations where Draco actually felt genuinely bad for someone. It would absolutely frustrate him to no end not knowing the past and what had happened, but this was of course, a different situation for Harry. Harry was de-aged with his memory tampered well enough for him to remember nothing past the age. He didn't know whether Harry was lucky or not.

"Then you shall get Severus, and Blaise and I will sort out Harry's clothes." Draco suggested, or commanded, either way he was giving out ideas. Blaise's flushed face whipped up to face him, a hopeful glean to his eyes. Draco nodded emphatically and waved for Blaise to join him.

"Well alright, Goyle, Crabbe and I shall gather Snape, we will meet you back here in.." She spared Goyle a thoughtful purse of her lips, before swishing her hair over her shoulder and turned back to Draco with a small huff, "We will meet you back here in ten minutes at the earliest, I doubt very much that professor Snape will happily oblige to following three students around willingly." If it weren't for the small upward tilt of the corners of her lips, he would've thought her mad at him.

"You're not just three students," Draco smirked, "You're my friends, that should be enough."

The dorm room seemed to sock him in the stomach upon entering, it was absolutely freezing! "Blaise?" He asked uncertainly. Blaise was silent at his side, something not commonly associated with the chatty Italian descent, and he realised why when he looked up. He was staring at the cupboard, or rather, the small bruised foot sticking out from it. Merlin. He rushed forward without hesitation. Please be okay, please be okay, please be okay, he thought frantically, and barely stopped himself from crashing into the door when he reached it.

The wards were like broken shards of glass strewn on the floor, and he would have stressed that someone had tried to break in, had it not been for the fact that it was obviously taken down from the inside. "Harry?" He called uncertainly, and shoved the small ajar door aside. He took in the sight of the small foot when he realised that it was more bruised than he thought, it was bruised in a few places, namely being his toes, but there were obviously bigger and slightly deeper looking bruises on the top of his foot, like someone had stomped on it. Someone probably had.

Other than feeling sick with rage, he felt sick with guilt. He had made this poor boys life a lot harder in his time at Hogwarts, although he hadn't known about Harry's dreadful and utterly appalling home-life, he still felt it was his fault that everything stressful in the boys life was harder and more sinister since he had made it so. But would he have made Harry's life harder knowing about the terrible life he had at home? He didn't like to think so, but he knew that he would have done anything to lash out at the small boy, even going so far as to insult his honourable dead parents. How much of a bad person was he?

"Harry? Come on, wake up." Draco gently prodded the small ball of a boy who he knew to be the saviour of the Wizarding world and sat back on the balls of his feet. Harry hadn't slept in the groove like he had last night, instead he laid sideways on the bed, his feet sticking out of the cupboard and his head resting on the wall, "Harry, come on, it's time you wake up."

The boy quietly unfurled in front of him, extending his legs and arms, "Draco?" A small voice whispered hollowly.

Merlin, had this boy always been so hopeless? "Yes Harry, I'm here." He said quietly, patting the small thigh of the boy in front of him comfortingly. Harry sat up in the small 'bed', bringing his hands up to his eyes to rub the sleep out of them, or perhaps dried tears.

"What's going on?" He mumbled, sucking in a deep breath to yawn.

"Well, we're going to get you cleaned and dressed, and then we're going to class," Draco began, smiling softly at the most extreme case of bed head in front of him, "You remember Blaise, right?"

Harry nodded sleepily, yawning again, though quieter and less dramatically than before, "Yes," he rocked forward slightly when he finished yawning, "Would you like me to make breakfast?"

Draco made a point to ignore the question and stood unsteadily from his crouch, the pins and needles in his legs seemed to remind him of something, "Are you cold Harry?"

Harry shrugged and slid out from the cupboard, gingerly toeing the dungeon floor with his bare feet, "I-- a little, yes." He nodded.

Draco turned to his cupboard almost immediately, and began rifling through the cashmere, silk, dragon hide, and cotton clothes carefully for something at least suitable for Harry. He returned from his bottomless cupboard with the smallest pair of black outer robes, an emerald cotton shirt, a pair of black tight fit jeans and the smallest pair of shoes he could find. Though he still had to shrink them almost three times their normal size anyway.

He and Blaise led Harry into the Slytherin bathroom quietly, ignoring the sceptical and interested gazes of the other Slytherin's as they passed them. The bathroom was, as always, faithfully orderly and clean, freshly cleaned and dried green towels hung on neatly lined racks ready for their next use and all the necessities for a shower or bath was ready made on shelves that sat on the furthest wall. Everything was green of course, though the shelves were silver.

"Wow.." Harry's jaw hung loose, making a small reluctant smile spread over Draco's face. So the brave Lion like the Snake pit. Interesting.

Flicking his wand at the bathtub, he murmured, "Aguamenti." This seemed to awe Harry into silence, not that he was very talkative before anyway, but the gesture still made a smile wriggle across Draco's face. Draco performed a heating charm and carefully dipped his hand into the tub, it was perfect, not too warm and not too hot. Perfect. He turned to Harry and piqued an eyebrow, "I assume you know the mechanics of bathing?" He drawled.

Blaise rolled his eyes from behind Harry and crossed his arms disapprovingly at Draco's snide comment. And here Blaise thought that Draco was going to be really nice for Harry, well he was of course, but he couldn't help it if a few sarcastic jibes slipped past his barriers, he wasn't Merlin, nor Dumbledore, he was still learning to control his language just for the sake of kid Harry's ears!

"You assume correctly," Harry puffed up mock pompously, raising an imperious hand at Draco as if to say 'Thank you peasant'. It took everything in Draco not to laugh, or at least feel amazed at the open mocking of himself from the closed off boy. He honestly didn't mind that he was the butt of the joke, just as long as Harry was the only one who told it.

Blaise chuckled heartily behind Harry and swiped an imaginary tear off of his slightly flushed cheek, "Oh Harry, you little burlone." Upon hearing the foreign word, Harry sent Draco a quizzical frown and raised an eyebrow up at Blaise hesitantly.

Draco smiled at the little boy and snickered, "He called you a joker."

The quizzical frown on Harry's face dissipated into a small grin, "Oh, I thought he was talking about me."

Well that was quick, Draco thought contentedly. Never had he ever had a fun conversation -let alone a banter- with Harry before, well seeing as they were both always at each others throats and tearing viciously at each other. Though back then it seemed worth the pain, the anger and stress and paranoia that always came with making enemies with a powerful Wizard, but now it just seemed wasteful that he had ignored the inviting smile on Harry's face and skipped straight to the violence. 

He couldn't help the small wriggle of hope blossoming in his chest that this wasn't the last banter they'd have, and that finally, the bad blood would finally be buried.

"I see you are embracing this conundrum with open arms Mr Malfoy,'' Severus droned upon seeing the grins on the two teenagers and boy, Draco's grin only widened when he saw the disdain clearly on his godfathers face.

"Well I hardly see this as a conundrum anymore Professor," Draco gestured down at a grinning and slightly giggling Harry, "If I had no choice in who takes care of who, then I at least want to make this the most pleasant of an experience as I can."

At hearing that, a small smile turned Severus' lips upward, "A very wise decision Draco, I'm afraid Mr Potter will be quite a handful when he accepts the situation, and I urge you to remain vigilant," Severus' piercing gaze left his and moved down to Harry, "We never know what trouble Mr Potter will get himself into." The small smile extended slightly when Harry grinned up at the hook nosed man.

"Hello professor!" He greeted enthusiastically, even adding in a wave. This was the most open any had ever seen Harry, especially Slytherin's of all people, from the -very few- times he'd seen the Weasel interact with Harry, Harry hadn't exactly bonded well with him, but that could just be because they haven't been around each other much.

"Hello Mr Potter." Severus greeted calmly back, adding in a gracious nod to the boy, the most respectful Severus had ever been to Harry, never mind a child.

Harry giggled and shook his head happily enough, "You can call me Harry." He bounced on the balls of his feet when Draco looked down at him.

Severus' lips twitched and he nodded respectfully, "As you can call me Severus, Harry."

His answer seemed to brighten the already incredibly happy boy even further, "Sev'rus?" Draco's grin widened until his cheeks hurt, but he couldn't be bothered relaxing his face, there really was no point, he'd just smile anyway. Severus' name from Harry's mouth was absolutely adorable.

"Sev-ER-us," Severus corrected mock sternly but nodded anyway, "yes?"

"What classes are we going to?"

Draco should count his lucky stars that they had Potions first. Though lucky isn't exactly what Harry was, there was still someone who wanted Harry dead or at least indisposed in the class. But as it was, Harry wasn't allowed to sit with Draco, he was stuck up the front with Severus, keeping his hands to himself yet also asking questions. Draco wanted to know what questions he was asking, but Blaise was mixing up a few of the ingredients by accident and kept going to put the wrong ingredient in at the wrong time. Blaise was as clueless at potions as Crabbe was at speaking.

"No!" Draco caught Blaise's wrist and pushed it back in time to stop the ingredient -which happened to be Boomslang skin, how ironic- from going in five steps too early. "Blaise, please read the list and ask me before putting anything in." He almost begged, almost, but it would have been fitting for him to beg, seeing as this potion could have some cataclysmic consequences if muddled.

Blaise's caramel skin darkened slightly in a blush and he nodded, his chocolate eyes glancing from his wrist and -back- to Harry. Draco had noticed that Blaise had a tendency to look for Harry, no matter where they were or what they were doing, and stare. He couldn't decipher the emotions behind the stare, but he got the feeling of tension and fear. He'd have to ask him about it later.

He finished slicing and dicing and began stirring, making sure to keep Blaise away from any and all ingredients that could have a catastrophic ending or at least ruin their potion. "What do you think Harry's asking Severus about?" He asked conversationally, making sure to keep an eye out for the lilac coloured potion. It was due to turn pink in a few seconds.

"Potions?" Blaise suggested, writing down a few notes on what the potion was doing.

"Well yes of course," Draco huffed, "But I hardly think Harry Potter would be intrigued in potions, he's utterly dreadful at making them."

He saw Blaise glance up at Harry as his name was mentioned, "Well, that is not the case right now." He said amusedly.

"What?" Draco huffed, and looked up just in time to see Harry slide a potion ingredient inside Severus' cauldron, under Severus' careful eye of course. And then something incredible happened. Severus openly smiled and applauded Harry. "What is going on with the world?" He huffed loudly and turned back to his own potion. Damn Harry and his adorableness.

Chapter Text

Chapter Six
Lux

"Well done Harry," Severus smiled down at the beaming child before him, a boy with the eyes of someone who he'd love for the rest of his life. "Now add in the Meazle mound in small portions," Severus pointed to a small pile of brown nut looking plants beside a jar of moon stones. Meazle mound is incredible for its compounds, they could heal a cut in only a few seconds if administered properly. And only if they were administered properly. "Gently." He stressed at seeing Harry's small thin fingers reach eagerly for the small pile. Meazle mound is incredibly dangerous to those who were ignorant, and Harry -seeing as he was a child- is incredibly ignorant.

"Sorry Sev," Harry whispered, and gently -much to Severus' relief- plucked two from the pile. The potion they were making called for five, and Severus wondered if Harry even knew how to count. Harry gently released the two into the bubbling cauldron before going back to the pile and plucking another two. "I'll try and be careful." He murmured reassuringly to the frowning man, adding the other two and then going back for one.

Maybe Severus was wrong about how Harry -not Potter-, about how useless he was at potion-making. Maybe it was just from all the stress of having the Dark Lord looming over his head and threatening him and his friends with death, that provoked such a negative sense to the art. He wondered, if only for a moment, if Harry was actually destined to be great at everything he set his mind to. Such as potion-making, which Harry -even though he was merely five- was acing at the moment.

"Stir five times counter clock-wise and nine times clock-wise." Severus instructed, and watched as Harry's small hand gripped the glass stirring rod and stirred in the movements instructed, perfectly, if a little loosely. Well he is a child, a child Harry Potter, he doesn't follow the rules to a 'T' no matter what subject, Severus reasoned with himself, pursing his lips.

Perhaps he was too hard on the boy for all those years, he hadn't given credit to where it was due, even if Harry had created the perfect potion. It was true, he hadn't known about Harry's home life, but if he had, would he have still taunted the boy like he did? All because of a grudge against the man who took the love of his life and taunted him so mercilessly in their school years? He was no better than Voldemort himself.

"Very good Harry, you're a Potion's master in the making," Severus praised, smiling gently down at the little boy who should have been his. He would have turned out exactly like this, if only a lot like himself indeed, but not much would change, his eyes would still be the fierce emerald green of his mothers and his hair would still be as black as night and look as silky as ever. His skin would be a lot lighter and his nose a lot more hooked, but there was not much more that would have changed. Harry looked up at him from his spot on one of the stools, and sent him a heart-warming and soft smile, a smile that used to come from one Lily Evans.

Severus swallowed down the lump of emotions in his throat and said, if not a little croakily, "Now add in the McLaggin's Claw, gently and carefully, it's sharp." Harry nodded his head happily and turned back to the available ingredients. He had a hard time of disentangling the claw from its fellows, but he managed -without cutting himself- to draw it away and slide it into the cauldron using its side. Severus watched in interest as Harry looked at the ingredients on the board and then back at the table. He had a knack for finding the right ingredients and crushing or slicing them, something their Harry didn't have. Or hadn't had the chance of using, Severus amended.

But now he did, which was the point of even bothering to teach Harry the simple steps of creating the Dreamless Sleeping draught. Severus had to admit that it was refreshing teaching someone so young the art of potion-making, especially since it was Harry. Especially since he had taught Lily the exact same things, when they were in schooling theirselves.

"Sev?"

Severus blinked down at Harry and smiled questioningly, seeing that Harry had begun stirring counter-clockwise again, "Yes Harry?" He asked patiently. The familiar blazing emerald green eyes blinked owlishly up at him. Lily's emerald green eyes. From the gentle and soft glowing to the bright defiant spark, they were truly Lily's eyes.

"My head hurts."

Severus pulled Draco aside just before he and Harry were to cross the threshold out of the classroom to go to their Charms class, "Draco, a word?" He requested, though he pretty much ensured that there was no questioning in his voice, rather, it was a command of sorts.

Draco frowned at him thoughtfully but nodded, and turned to a frowning Harry, "Just wait right here Harry, okay? I'll be right back." He assured the small boy, before turning back to his godfather and waiting to be led away.

Harry nodded obediently and looked down at his feet, beginning the stages of finding something to do. Severus waited until Harry was in the 'twiddling his thumbs' stage, before taking Draco by the upper arm and leading him into his office, the door remained open so he could watch Harry from his seat behind his desk. Draco was frowning thoughtfully up at his godfather in a way that reminded Severus uncannily of Lucius. "Draco, you'll want to watch Harry extra closely today in your following classes, his head is hurting." He drawled, though it was mostly to hide the worry in his voice.

But Draco, being a true Slytherin, caught the undercurrent of his efforts and they were wasted, "So? Give him a pain potion," He said warily, eyeing his tense godfather with a dubious nature, "but why tell me this when you have the means to fix it?"

Patience, Severus chanted in his head several times. He closed his eyes as he let out a calming sigh, before opening them and staring pointedly at Draco, "There's something about the scar on his forehead that always seemed to hurt him Draco, do you remember the time in Divination where he had fallen to the floor screaming? That which always seems to happen to Harry a lot." He asked calmly.

The blondes eyes had never been so wide, "You believe he'll begin having them again? But how? He's--!"

Severus cut him off with a brusque sigh, "Draco your ignorance astounds me at the worst of times, do not disappoint me now," He warned, before narrowing his eyes into slits and hissing, "You must not let him focus on something for too long, make sure something-" He held up a hand to stop the blonde from speaking, "-anything, distracts him at least long enough for the class to end, and then you shall bring him to me where I will put him to sleep with a simple sleepless dreaming potion, he will not be perturbed, by anyone or for any reason." He stated firmly, a hidden darkness that was not actually hidden, was in his voice.

The blonde in front of him, his godson, paled until he was whiter than Peeves, "But-- I can't watch him all of the time! I have to concentrate in class or else I'll fall behind--!"

"Draco," Severus growled through his teeth, "Would you rather he be in inexplicable pain, or that he wouldn't be able to feel it? Or is your studious past times more important than he is?" He asked fiercely. He already knew the answer to his questions, rendering them redundant in their present situation, but it always felt better when the other was on the same page as he is.

"I'd rather he wouldn't feel it." Draco said stiffly, fierce grey eyes flashing defensively from behind large amounts of golden -almost white- eyelashes.

"Then you know what to do." Severus hissed, sitting back in his chair and creating a steeple with his hands. "Leave, I will see you later."

"Okay Harry," Draco began happily enough, glancing down at the boy trailing silently beside him, "We're going to Charms class now, there, I'll be teaching some simple spells that I think will interest you, would you like that?" He knew that his question was redundant even before he'd asked it.

Harry nodded excitedly and let out a small yip of excitement, "Oh yes Draco! I'd love that!" He crowed.

You must not let him focus on something for too long, make sure something, anything, distracts him at least long enough for class to end, Severus' voice hissed in his mind. He planned to distract Harry with the one thing Harry had a powerful supply of. Magic. He'd even give Harry a spare wand -though it would hardly have enough magic in itself to do anything- from one of professor Flitwick's draw, they were given to those who were either unbalanced, or their wands were broken.

Draco expected the hush that fell over the students before they walked in the door, and wasn't disappointed. Their Charms class was mixed of houses, Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs, Slytherins -the greatest house- and dirty lions, more commonly known as Gryffindors. The Weasel and Mudblood stared at them without shame as Draco led a small Harry to the Slytherin side of things.

Blaise was first to greet Harry, and pulled him into a welcoming and affectionate hug just as he saw the mop of dark unruly hair, "Hey Harry! You ready for a fantastico time in class?" He asked benignly, smiling his pearly whites at an overly excited Harry, whom was bouncing in his shoes.

Harry nodded dazedly and smiled back, "Hullo Blaise, did you see me in Potions?" He asked, straightening his back a little and donning what may as well have been the greatest impression of Severus Snape, "'Well done Harry, you're a Potions master in the making.'" He let out a giggle at Blaise's dumbstruck face and strode over to a seat situated between Blaise and Draco, pulling it forward slightly before shuffling onto it himself. Behind his back, Draco was making the same face at Blaise, his jaw a little slack and his eyes a little dazed. Well, Harry can definitely be a Boggart copy of Severus if he wanted to, Draco thought dazedly. At least now he knew what they'd been talking about.

Blaise, having finally gotten over the small re-enactment made by Harry, was now staring at the small boy beside him in amusement and wonder, "He really said that?" He asked amusedly and, just a tad disbelievingly. Blaise knew Severus almost as well as Draco did, and knew that compliments and praises aimed at Harry would surely mean that the world was ending.

Harry nodded furiously and grinned up at Blaise and Draco, "Yes! It was so much fun! I can't wait for tomorrow!" And then he threw himself forward in his chair to slide it the rest of the way forward so that he was closer to the desk. It did so, but Draco had to grab at the back of the chair to stop it, lest it squash Harry against the edge of the table and most likely decapitate the small boy. Well that escalated quickly, Draco thought sourly at his odd imagination.

At seeing the jittery movement to Harry's limbs, Draco smiled, "Settle down Harry," He said indulgently to the raven haired boy, placing his hand on Harry's shoulder gently, "We're in class remember?" Harry's plump lips pulled up into a dazzling smile at that, obviously showing how excited the small boy was that he was in class. That fact endeared Harry all the more to him, and made him want to do all he could to make that smile stay on his lips. Harry's trembling stopped, but there was still an odd twitch or two.

The few late students that there were settled into the remaining seats, though they might as well have just turned them around so as to make it easier for them to gawk at Harry. At seeing this, Draco took it upon himself to tell the others with a look about it, and during the first five minutes of class that allowed students to organise themselves, people turned and stared, though they didn't exactly stare long, they were sent scrambling with one look from the Slytherin's -namely Blaise, Pansy, Goyle, Crabbe and Draco-. The familiar short figure of Filius Flitwick flew into sight before things escalated, shouting, "Welcome! Welcome!" Though his usually high pitched voice was lower than even Severus' "I have much fun in store for you all today!" He boasted, spreading his arms wide in a welcoming grin. Which slipped a little when he noticed the pitch of his voice, "Peroratum!" He cried while swishing his wand at his throat, and as he did so he coughed, nothing too terrible, but it was enough to make Harry flinch. Though when Draco flinched, it was out of hate.

Not enough welcoming will make someone uncomfortable, too much welcoming, will make someone hate whatever is in sight. Though, not if Draco glanced to the right and down he didn't. He didn't ever think he could hate Harry again, ever, no matter what he did.

"Today I'll be teaching you an extraordinary spell to conjure light!" Flitwick babbled excitedly, happy that his voice was back to normal, "And not Lumos Mr Finnigan!" He added with a suspiciously too happy grin, "No, we'll be studying Lux!" Add in a manic laugh and Flitwick would be the poster child of St Mungo's. Flitwick opened his mouth to speak again, when he closed it suddenly and waved for someone to speak.

Draco didn't have to look to the left hand side of the room to see the hand of the mudblood already in the air.

"I was just wondering professor, but aren't Lux and Lumos the same thing?" Granger asked in her annoying know-it-all voice. Though she does have a point, Draco conceded inwardly.

"Aha! Thank you Ms Granger, I was waiting for someone to ask!" Flitwick babbled happily, clapping his hands and levitating his very short figure onto an unstable stack of books that stood by a black board directly in the middle of the large wall, that teetered upon his newly acquired weight, "In actuality, Lumos and Lux are the same thing, but there are certain differences to the two charms, such as Lumos for one, that charm only lights the tip of your wand and you cannot change how bright it is, and Lux for second, can light up whatever you want, such as a limb or even a book, and it can be as bright as you want it to be!" Flitwick looked positively euphoric at the prospect of them learning the spell. 

Draco didn't want to think about all the trouble Harry could cause but as such, he doubted that the small boy would actually be able to manage it, this spell seems to be more of a challenge than Lumos was. One needn't be fooled, Lumos was a particularly troubling charm most hadn't accomplished learning until the middle of fourth year.

"Now, creating the light is going to be quite difficult, but it shouldn't be impossible. Most powerful Wizards and Witches are able to conjure it, though it does take quite a while-- Yes Ms Granger?"

"Why does it take so long for one to be able to conjure light professor? Surely it should be easy?" Mudblood asked.

Flitwick regarded her happily and thoughtfully, "Well you're producing light via your own magical core Ms Granger, and not through your wands core, which is actually a lot harder than you think. You have to think, feel and be light in order to create it." He grinned suddenly around at all the unnerved faces of his students, "Not to worry! That's why I am your professor, I know what I'm doing!" And as if to demonstrate his words, he extended his arm and flicked his hand carefully at a book that was laying unwanted on the desk in front of two Ravenclaws, "Lux!" The book began to glow a dull blue, that strengthened when Flitwick flicked his hand again and said, "Lux!" Now it was as bright as the sky outside, a sky blue that was actually quite beautiful.

Gasps of awe were heard from random points in the room, but none quite so loud as the one beside him. He didn't need to look down at the small face to know that he was fascinated by the show of magic, he knew that Harry would be fascinated by anything that had sparks shooting out of it. He was just worried what would happen when they were to be separated to begin practicing.

It seems that whatever they tried, they failed at even creating a flicker of a glow on anything. Blaise had partnered with Draco when Flitwick took Harry aside so that he was 'out of harms way' -which was absolutely stupid, seeing as no one had their wands out-, so he had been safe to do pretty much anything, though he did look out for the small boy, as he was stuck up the front all alone as Flitwick had to walk around and help the other students. 

Harry hadn't been given a wand, as Draco had promised and was scratching at his forehead, or scar rather with a pinched expression. I need to distract him, Draco thought desperately. He was working on trying to make Blaises' finger nails glow while Blaise was working on making his eyebrows glow. 

He'd tried to get Harry a wand from the draw himself, but Flitwick had told him that wands weren't necessary for this spell and had shooed him. It annoyed him greatly, and even when he'd tried to convince the tiny infuriating man that it wasn't for him, he'd been ignored. It was all about Houses, even to the bloody teachers.

"Pardon me Blaise, I need to go to Harry." He drawled, but didn't waste time in hurrying to the small boy, "Hullo Harry," He puffed, seating himself on the ground with an ungrateful plonk in front of the cross legged boy, "Miss me?" He grinned.

"My head hurts Draco." Harry whimpered, and for the second time in Draco's life so far, he saw that there were tears in Harry's eyes.

Had it always been this way for Harry? Draco thought warily.

"Okay Harry, do you remember the word professor Flitwick was talking about? The spell?" Draco asked quickly, scooping up Harry's trembling hands to hold with his own.

Harry bit his lip to hold in a whimper but nodded all the same, "Lux." He whispered painfully.

"Very good," Draco praised and gave Harry an encouraging smile, "Do you remember what it does?"

Harry nodded and squeezed his eyes shut, "Light, it makes light." He choked out.

Draco nodded again, though Harry couldn't really see him with his eyes shut, "That's exactly right Harry, Blaise and I were practicing on each other, small things, like finger nails and eyebrows, would you like to try?" He asked, he almost hit himself when he heard the barely contained hysteria behind the words. He was trying to distract the boy not scare him.

Harry heaved a painful sigh, or a wheeze, but nodded, "Okay." He replied in a small voice.

"Okay, would you like to keep your eyes closed when you do it?" He asked softly, watching as Harry's face creased in pain.

Harry nodded slowly and carefully, "Do we start now?" He whispered.

The corners of Draco's lips lifted, "Yes," He breathed. The small tan face in front of him was scrunched up in pain, something that would remain in his memory forever, and then he realised something incredibly adorable on the bespectacled face. He had freckles. "Lux." He whispered, looking at the small forest of light brown dots that were lightly dusted on Harry's skin. He was utterly adorable. Chest tightening in an unfamiliar embrace, Draco continued to search for more adorable traits that adorned the small Harry that he hadn't noticed on the older one. He almost didn't notice the spell working.

Very bright small silver dots appeared on the bridge of Harry's small straight nose, shining brightly as if they were sterling silver shining the sun. It actually complimented the boy silver did, and not for the first time, he wondered if Harry was meant to be in Slytherin. Although whether certain colours looked good on one didn't exactly say much about their House sorting in Hogwarts.

He lifted his hand to brush a stray strand of black hair off of Harry's cheek, when he stopped short. His hand was glowing a very, very bright green, Slytherin green, the Killing curse green, Harry green. He reluctantly looked down and bit back a gasp, before looking side to side and then, finally to a mirror hanging up in the side of the wall. All of him was green. "Oh my..." He choked out as he realised that the entire class had heard and watched them talk and perform the spell. Hell, even Flitwick was gawking at them.

"Did I do it?" Harry mumbled, Draco glanced down at the small boy to see him twitching from one would assume to be pain.

"Look and see Harry." Draco whispered encouragingly, squeezing the small shaking hands in his.

Two pain filled emerald green eyes peered up at him from underneath a mop of dark raven hair, "Wow--! ugh." A panicked Draco caught Harry by his small thin and boney shoulders to stop him from face planting into the hard floor as the boy whimpered and groaned in pain. He was far too late with the distractions. Oh Severus is going to kill me! Draco moaned inwardly. 

He swiftly pulled the small boy to his chest, both of his arms underneath him, and stood as quickly as he could without losing his grip on Harry or sending them both falling to the floor, "Excuse me professor Flitwick," He rushed over the pain filled moans and cries of the boy in his arms, "I must g--"

Flitwick waved his arms frantically, his eyes bugging out of his head, "Go! Go! By all means!" He sputtered disbelievingly.

And with that, Draco spun on his heel and ran out of the room -in a dignified manner of course-, a shaking and moaning boy in his arms and his school robes billowing out behind him.

Chapter Text

Chapter Seven
The Vision

Darkness was everywhere, no matter where he turned, it was there. It smothered him like water, seeping into his skin and filling him up as if he were submerged in the deep depths of the ocean. He was cold. He couldn’t feel his limbs; the darkness had probably all but swallowed them whole, he wouldn’t know, he couldn’t feel them. And yet he wasn’t worried or scared of that. He was afraid of the dark and cold water surrounding him.

Screams made up the noise of the water, drowning him in fear; a fear he knew had nothing to do with him. Or did it? It was all so confusing with the muffled red lights flashing around him. High pitched cackles reverberated through him, seeming to strike him in his stomach and chest, forcing his stomach to coil up into tight knots. What was going on? Why was he feeling like this? So dark and angry, so.. inhuman.

The darkness seemed to ebb away as a strange muted light seeped into view, it was firelight that made the darkness leave, he was standing in a tall dark room lit by medieval sconces that flickered a strangely red glow, or perhaps it was the smell of the room that tinged the colour of the flame, the room absolutely reeked, the smell of blood was so strong that he felt the urge to vomit, but there was something about it that made him feel oddly satisfied, it almost rivalled the feeling of having finished his chores long before they were supposed to be done, though this satisfaction was far more malevolent.  

The room was as cold as the darkness was, sinking through his skin and seeping into his bones with tender hooks. His nose burned at the disgusting smell until his eyes prickled, but his eyes widened when he took in the five people against the far wall hanging from manacles and chains from the ceiling. He didn't know why he was angry, so angry that his jaw clenched and his eyes formed narrow slits, and his fists shook with a rage so powerful the people hanging from the ceiling cried out in fear, he only knew that they had something he wanted. He felt powerful. And angry.

“Where is it?” He hissed angrily, striding past the first four blood stained people, and to the last, a crying little girl who looked to be no more than his own age. He let his unfamiliar and spider-like pale hand play across her tiny throat, lingering on the large pulsing vein on the side with a malicious want, “I will only ask once more, muggle. Where is it?” He spat to the family, baring his teeth in a feral snarl.

The large man, the father of the family, that stood at the opposite end of the row cried out as he suddenly pointed his wand at the girls crying and blood streaked face, right between her watery light blue pleading eyes. Eyes that would soon be staring blankly up at him. He could tell that the man was deathly afraid and losing a lot of blood, but was still making the effort to protect his stupid little family.

“I-I don’t k-know what you’re t-talking about!”

A smile that could cut trees graced his lips at that, and a satisfaction so terrible, gripped him with excitement, “So be it,” He said genially, and turned to the terrified little girl staring up at him with a manic feral grin, he slowly began walking backwards with the tip of the wand trained on the girls forehead, the perfect spot, and cried,  “Avada Kedavra!” A magnificent and terrible green light flew like a spear from the tip of his wand, swirling and shooting like lightning into the girls head, forcing her back against the wall with an immense force that rattled the chains and hinges on the ceiling. He released her from the binds with a bored sigh, seeing as there was no point in keeping her there, and allowed her to crumple to the floor in a heap of limbs, still she gaping lifelessly up at him, her mouth open in a lax gasp and her eyes dull but staring into his face. And there were still tears on her cheeks.

The family beside her gasped, spluttered, jerked and cried out in horror and anger, tears pouring down the little boys and mothers bleeding faces steadily. The man beside them stood stoically, his gnarled bleeding face staring into his own with ferocity, “You bloody murderer! I’ll kill you! I’ll kill--!”

“Silencio!” He cried.

The pathetic haggard woman sobbed silently beside him, keeping her eyes trained on the pools of blood laying pathetically on the floor underneath her feet. She was petrified, as was the boy, as he stared at the very same pool of blood as his mother. He was the very last child of the wretched family, and that alone excited him far more than he realised. It was like the Potter’s all over again.

Wait, what?

Hot water seemed to wash over him just as the words materialised in his mind, and he began to feel something, a steady pulsing of warmth and another steady pulsing of cool. They were oddly matched, but in his reach, he had the feeling that he shouldn't touch the cold one, that one would do something bad. Déjà vu rolled into his mind at the feeling of slippery tendrils sliding around him.

“I assume you wish to keep your son alive?” He sneered at the woman, watching in sick fascination as blood steadily streamed from a cut on her temple. She nodded pathetically and clutched at the thick chains binding her with her small dirty trembling hands. “Then you shall tell me where it is, or he will die a most painful and horrific death. Unlike his sister.” He sneered, gesturing carelessly at the limp form of the little girl.

A sob rose and escaped the woman at that, “Y-you’ll only k-kill him anyway.”

That’s the idea, said a dark razor sharp voice in his mind. “I give you my word as a Wizard that he survives.” He promised, holding his wand hand up beside his face with a maniacal grin. His thoughts and actions belied his words easily, Harry just wished that the woman knew that.

The woman sobbed hopelessly as the silently screaming man struggled against his binds beside her, “What do you want to know?” She whispered brokenly, keeping her watery gaze on the floor in front of her. She could see the small shoeless feet of her little girl out of her peripheral vision.

He strode forward until his face was close to hers, noting the veins in her temple and neck beating furiously, “Where is the stone?” He smiled, trailing his slightly long nails along the rapidly beating pulse in her neck. He let out a high pitched bout of cold laughter when the woman flinched back and whimpered, rattling her chains in fear.

But Harry was caught on his words.

The dirty blonde headed woman looked up at him, light blue eyes staring into his own with a spark of defiance that seemed to come to life out of nothing, or maybe it was out of retaliation for her dead daughter, “What stone?” She sneered, letting her fearful expression melt into one of pure hate and anger.

“The stone of Life, mudblood!” He screamed, bringing his hand down swiftly upon her bloodied cheek. Her head snapped to the left with a sickening Smack! and a small whimper echoed the sound of skin connecting with skin. “Crucio!” He screamed, pointing his wand furiously at her stomach. The form of the woman crumpled in on herself as the curse hit her, and before his eyes, Harry began to see the dark side to the seemingly light magic. “Where is it?!” He screamed, although his scream merely mixed in with the womans.

Cold laughter and horribly painful screams filled the large room, echoing and reverberating through Harry’s soul in strong waves, encompassing him in shock. That laughter, it sounded so familiar, there was something so incredibly wrong with it, and it wasn’t the pitch of the laughter or the voice. He knew it from somewhere.

With a flick of his wand, the curse was called off, and the woman hung limply in the manacles grip, cutting off the blood circulation to her hands. The young boy to her left whimpered and moved to reach out to his mother, but yet again, the manacles and chains did their dark job in keeping him from her. Harry felt a dark and unfamiliar satisfaction at seeing that, and he knew it wasn’t himself that was feeling it. He was in someone's mind, someone who was incredibly evil. The man turned on the spot and stared malevolently down at the quivering young boy, the wand in his hand tingled and hummed silently, wishing to destroy, calling to him to just end the nuisance that was the small boy. Or maybe it was just the insanity of the mans mind that begged and wished to.

Harry shivered as the darkness slithered around him, coiling and caressing him like a snake would. He didn’t want to see this happen, he didn’t want this to happen, he didn’t want this child to die like the other, he didn’t want anybody to be hurt at all, and yet this man, this.. thing, was torturing and killing them as if they were flies. It made him mad. It made him… strong. He felt as if he were pulsing with overwhelming rage, he didn't care where he was at that moment in time, he could only care about the man that was torturing innocent people who obviously didn't do anything wrong. The pulsing globe of warmth began to expand, fighting against the cool orb beside it without Harry knowing it.

The man who’s eyes he was seeing out of narrowed, and he went suspiciously rigid. This was his only chance. Harry whispered the one word that he knew would torture the bad man like he did the woman, the one word he'd heard from the man himself, almost immediately, “Crucio.” He anticipated the man falling to the floor in a mess, but what he didn't anticipate was the incredibly strong bouts of pain that seared him.

Pain so strong pulsed through him, stinging him, slicing him like millions of invisible blades and dragging him over hot coals repetitively, he hadn't anticipated such consequences, but he couldn't find it in himself to care, not when there was justice to be served. He focused himself through the pain, focused himself for the family, for the dead little girl, the sobbing mother and son and the silently screaming father. He channelled the pain through him and to the horrible man, causing him to writhe on the floor, and scream louder and higher than even the woman had. Harry grinned when he felt the ghost like limb of the mans hand crushing his wand with a definitive Snap! that the family could hear, and began rolling around on the bloodied floor like a puppet whose strings were caught.

From the corner of the wide eyes of the man, he could see the manacles and chains were breaking and falling away in tendrils of smoke, as if they had been burned to nothing. The family had dropped immediately.

But that was all Harry could see out of the mans wide frantic eyes as he continued to Crucio him. His hate, his anger, his rage seemed to boil up and catch the man in a deathly grip, squeezing and squeezing until the man gurgled what must be blood. He’d heard that voice before, that laughter, it was in the dreams he had, the nightmares, the nightmares where everything was green and a woman constantly screamed his name.

“Crucio!” He roared, growling and puffing as the man screamed on. The man was furious, and it seemed that his fury fed Harry's, because the pain that Harry was causing didn't seem to have an end. Their anger was feeding each other, it was like a circle.

And then something very warm and very familiar cupped his hands and a voice like heaven spoke, “Harry, wake up!” It was like water over rocks, sweet like honey, though distant as if it was on the opposite end of a tunnel. He was unsure whether this was real, but seeing as how portraits talked and statues moved, why couldn't this be real as well? He was suddenly not liking this as much as he used to.

He didn't know how he did it, but he left the man to writhe and scream on the floor with the blood of his victims and fell backwards, falling and watching as the wide eyed vision of the dungeon ceiling drifted further and further away, until darkness swallowed it whole and he could no longer feel the excruciating pain, hear the screams of the man and his family, or see the blood filled room. He was flying or floating in warmth and softness, he could feel again. He could feel his legs, arms, hands and feet, they were really there. And so was the ache in his head and chest.

“Harry!” Cried the heavenly voice. Harry was awash in a sea of warmth, the honey like voice was merely the icing on the cake. Who was calling him anyhow?

“Draco?” He mumbled drowsily. He was trying to open his eyes, but it was as if they were glued shut with one of aunt Petunia's gooey glue.

"I'm here Harry, just open your eyes love."

'Love' no ones ever called me that before, he thought absently.

With a tremendous effort worthy of a reward, he managed to open his eyes. And found himself rewarded by looking into a pair of close to glowing silver eyes that were wide and frantic. They were hovering over him and startlingly close, but he didn't mind.

"Harry?" Draco whispered.

"Draco?"

"It appears Harry is far more intelligent and powerful than the average human, muggle, Witch and Wizard alike at the age of five," Dumbledore murmured thoughtfully from behind his large desk, his hands forming a steeple. "We will have to be more careful, in any such case as this comes again, we are precariously relying on the chance that Lord Voldemort does not realise that Harry is with him."

Severus nodded impatiently, "Yes, yes Dumbledore, but what do we do if this case does happen again? Send the Dark Lord flowers as an apology?" He sneered, crossing his arms across his chest and pacing the floor calmly.

If Dumbledore detected Severus' sarcasm, he made a wise choice in not showing it and testing his patience, "Well, there isn't much else but to teach young Harry Occlumency before such a case arrives."

Draco sat stiffly in the straight-backed chair on the other side of Dumbledore's desk, Harry sat tiredly in his lap with his head resting back against his chest, he was holding Draco's hand firmly in his own, his tiny thin fists white around the knuckles from the force. They'd come straight to Dumbledore as soon as Harry had opened his eyes. The haunted look in the small boys eyes would never leave him, Draco knew that now. He also knew that whatever Harry had done, he'd completely exhausted himself.

"No, there's got to be another way around this, teaching Occlumency to a mere child is near illegal and wrong, teaching it to Potter would be downright cruel."

"We have no other choice Severus, unless you wish to petrify the poor boy, we cannot do anything else," Dumbledore sighed wearily, appearing to age fifty years in mere seconds, "he has had far more trouble in such a short life than any other, teaching him Occlumency now just might save him."

Draco looked up, "Save him? From what?" Neither man replied, but merely looked away.

"The goal is to save him from himself Draco, no matter what age he is, there will always be something threatening his life and the lives of others around him. He would not take it lightly should someone else come to any harm," Dumbledore sighed a world weary and aging sigh, "no matter what age he is, he will always blame himself."

The silence in the room was weighed down by the gentle panting coming from the Boy Who Lived sitting in Draco's lap. It all came down to him, whether Draco liked it or not, it was all about Harry.

Chapter Text

Chapter Eight
 Cupcakes

“Fool,” Severus muttered venomously, pacing furiously in front of his roaring hearth with his cloak creating wings behind him, “raving lunatic.” He growled quietly, though not quite as quiet as he'd hoped, as a certain small green eyed boy was watching and listening carefully. Though there was hardly anything to listen to apart from half-hearted insults.

Harry was sat in Draco's lap again, as attentive and alert as ever with his eyes fixed on the bat-like man in front of him. He remembered his cousin Dudley having a picture book with a man that was dressed like a bat with a bat insignia on his chest, Batman, he thought the name was. He almost wanted to call Severus 'Batman' just to see if it would fit, but then thought better of it. It was a measure of just how bored he was that he was even thinking of calling Severus 'Batman'. Harry desperately wanted someone else to talk, to say something worth discussing or chatting about, but alas, no one but Severus would, though even then all the man did was spew parts of insults.

What did wizards and witches normally do other than cast spells? Harry pondered for a moment. He honestly couldn't bring himself to care much about that at the present time. Swinging around in Draco's lap, he leaned away from the comfortable chest he'd been reclining on and looked up at the pensive face he loved so much to see, “I'm bored Draco." He announced quietly, reaching down to grab the end of the green and silver tie and flipping it between his hands like he was tossing a ball. Draco's knees came up behind him, shifting him until he straddled the blonde's lap.

Striking silver eyes blinked. "What?" Draco murmured bemusedly, blinking again.

"I'm bored." Harry repeated, intent on watching the tie flick back and forth in his hands, unaware that the silver eyes of the blonde cradling him were watching intently. "Can we do somethin' fun?"

Unbeknownst to Harry, Draco was utterly bewildered. "Like what?" Asked Draco, hesitantly.

Harry shrugged non-committedly and flashed Draco a charming smile at the hearing the hesitance in the blonde's voice. "Like cooking, I feel like a cupcake!"

"You don't look it." Severus sniped flatly, though Draco could see him thinking about it from the corner of his eye. It seemed Severus was unsure whether it was safe to let Harry focus and do something or put him back in his cupboard to rest, though the green eyed boy was clearly waiting for a chance to do something and would obviously put up a fight if told to go to bed.

Draco honestly didn't want to do anything, he wanted to hold Harry in his arms and assure himself that the green eyed boy was fine, that he wouldn't collapse in a sudden fit of pain like before. Besides, cupcakes were eaten at Madame Puddifoots, and Draco severely hated that place. Pink was just not his colour, and all those mushy, sappy idiots kissing and bloody cooing about how adorable their partner was and how much they love each other and-- Ugh! Utterly disgusting place that is. He'd rather kiss a Gryffindor toilet seat than go there. But.. if Harry wanted him to go there, then he'd suffer through every bloody shade of pink in the world, just to make him happy. Even if he was suffering.

But he'd never, ever, dirty his dainty, beautiful hands with House-elf business. It was their job to make food, clean, serve and protect their masters and mistresses. No way was Draconis Lucius Malfoy dirtying his hands and disrespecting his House in such a way.

Harry giggled adorably -there it was again, that damned word- at Severus and shook his shaggy haired head, "No! No! I wanna eat one!" He corrected pointedly, grinning toothily up at a stoic Severus, though he was obviously softening from where Draco was sat. He almost smirked at the barely concealed manipulation that Harry used when he smiled sweetly up at Severus. It was a look Draco knew all too well, it held an ulterior motive, something that could either infuriate or amuse. But seeing as Severus had barely expected Harry Potter to manipulate, it was rather easy.

Pursing his lips and straightening his spine, Severus nodded imperiously, "I shall have a House-elf bring us ingredients for these.." He paused and sucked in a deep breath, his face scrunching up as if he'd smelt something utterly disgusting, "Cupcakes." He sneered.  

Harry bobbed his head enthusiastically, clambering out of Draco's lap and squishing his.. family jewels in his way to Severus, Draco held in the groan of pain that wanted to leave him as his bits pulsed in pain and watched Harry smile happily instead. Though his groin would never be the same again. "I'll help you! I know exactedly what we need!" Harry gushed, rushing past a slightly stiff with shock Severus and to the desk Severus graded and did his work at, where he found a blank piece of parchment and a quill. Draco stood from his spot swiftly to see what little Harry was writing, and frowned at the somehow elegant legible curls. From what he'd seen of Potter's writing -as often as it turned up in Severus' marking pile- it was supposed to look messy and.. illegible, while Harry's was magnificently beautiful.

One glance at Severus and Draco could tell he thought the same thing.

"Can the others cook with us too?" Harry asked happily, moving his hand over the parchment to start a new column. From what Draco could tell of the ingredients, was that they looked like potions ingredients, and he wondered whether it was to be made in the same way. He thought of Harry cooking with cauldrons and potions ingredients and turning out with delicious food. They exchanged interested glances, Potions master and excelling potions student thinking alike.

"If they wish to diminish their self respect and ideas of one another," Sneered Severus, though it was half-hearted as he was watching Harry scrawl happily, "then yes."

"Draco, could you ask them please?" Harry piped up in a sing song voice, staring in concentration at the parchment and counting his fingers as if trying to remember something. He snapped his fingers as if chastising himself when he remembered.

I'm no ones messenger boy, was Draco's first thought upon instinct, but he reminded himself that this was his Harry asking him to, and politely as well, which was in itself a rare thing as children rarely used proper manners. "Sure, the Room of Requirement okay?" Draco looked to Severus, who nodded approvingly at his assumption.

As Draco left the room, he glanced back to see Harry humming thoughtfully, staring down at the almost full parchment and tapping fingers in a questioning manner on the desk. He raised an eyebrow, but didn't say anything.

He had friends to see and convince.

"Cupcakes?" Greg murmured, his eyes widening comically, "He wants to make cupcakes?"

Pansy scoffed from her place on the couch and examined her perfectly manicured nails. "The muggle way, no doubt." She drawled, though Draco knew that she'd jump at the chance to do something with Harry, even if it included muggle methods.

Blaise lolled his head towards Draco with a lopsided grin, "What kind, amico?" 

"It's a surprise actually, Harry's getting everything ready as we speak, we're to meet them in the Room--" 

"Wait," Pansy cut him off abruptly, ignoring his angry huff and swinging her long legs off the ottoman and leaning forward rigidly in her seat, a severe frown on her face, "'them'? Who else is going?" 

"Just Severus, Pans," He assured her, smiling slightly at the possessive look on her face, "I don't think Harry much likes the Weasel, and I don't think he's even met Granger yet." Thank merlin really, Draco really didn't want the Gryffindick's corrupting him again, he'd lost the opportunity to befriend Harry once before on their account, he won't lose it again.

Assuaged, Pansy dropped back into her seat with a dull thump and smiled winningly. "So he's ours then, good," She drawled, "I don't think we'd be able to get the stench of mudblood out of his clothes if he had met her." Blaise shook his head a few times with a faint frown. It was common knowledge among the Slytherin's that Blaise had nothing against mudblood's, he didn't like the way pure-bloods categorized them or treated them, just the word 'mudblood' puts a frown on his face. He was a rather outspoken Slytherin, something not quite common in their House, though outspoken Draco may be as well, he was also a politician's son and so with that came the instinct of keeping.. certain things to himself, like how he himself didn't quite mind muggleborns, and absolutely loathed the Dark Lord.

Draco befriended Blaise for his friendship and sharp wit, something unknown to his father as he always extended a hand of friendship to the most influential of people, excluding Harry, of course. So when Lucius had learnt of Draco's newfound friendship with the Italian descent, he'd demanded to know what made Draco do it, whether the Zabini's held a hidden influence or practice within their family that he hadn't seen or not. Draco'd said naught, of course. As shocking as it may be, Draco knew how to keep a secret, and keep them well he did. 

Clapping his hands once as if they were dogs, Draco drew their attention again with a glare. "So, all those who want to join us in the Room of Requirement, stand now." Blaise, Pansy, Goyle and Theo stood readily, small smiles on their faces. Draco nodded approvingly at them before turning on his heel and stalking out of the common room with his entourage in tow.

He prayed that Harry'd make their pain worthwhile, he really didn't want to do anything that was unneeded.

Out of breath and stumbling slightly, they managed to reach the seventh floor corridor where the Room of Requirement was built. There was already a large silver door in view. They entered quietly, taking in the muggle interior of the room with obvious dislike and disgust. It all looked.. incredibly sterile for a muggle setting, everything was clean -though not as pristine as any of their prestigious houses- with disgusting peach colored walls, stuffy flower patterned furniture and a curiously large square box with a black screen and odd buttons and odd lights. It was clearly the base of a house, counting from the staircase to the side of the room that reached the roof. The same small cupboard door that was in their dorm room was on the side of the staircase. Draco shuddered at the sight.

"It really wasn't a lie then." Pansy whispered to herself from behind him. 

Draco ignored her and continued down the carpeted hallway so that he stood in front of a glass door. He could hear muffled talking from behind it and knew that Severus and Harry were there. Aside from that, his assumption was proved right by a large black blob walking past the door. He entered, followed by his friends, and took in the clean kitchen in front of him. It connected to a dining room off to the left where a large oval table stood with seven chairs. Two had obviously been added by the room. They stopped short.

"Hey guys!" Harry greeted enthusiastically, jumping over to where they stood, awkward and looming in their Hogwarts uniforms in the doorway. "Come in! Come in! We're 'bout to start!" And with a happy chortle, he spun on his feet and ran to grab something from a large pantry, disappearing from their sight momentarily. Draco spared the pantry a small curious and hesitant glance.

Severus was standing behind a counter full of ingredients, eyeing them questionably and disgustedly, poking one or two of them with his index finger. He scowled when his finger dipped into a white powdery substance. Draco sidled up to him as his friends took their seats at the dining room table, speaking to each other in low tones, most likely conversing about the lay out of the house.

His back was so tense, so rigid, he thought his spine would snap from the tension. Though this was a replica, the house so far had given him a haunted and depressing feeling. "So this is.." He trailed off with swallow, taking in more of the disgusting muggle home with a serious frown. 

Severus nodded once, a short and sharp nod that had him eyeing the man carefully, he braced himself in the event that he'd blow. "Yes," Said Severus darkly, "this is where they lived." He glared fiercely all around at the kitchen as if to emphasize his words, or glare at the muggles themselves.

Before Draco could ask his next question, which was no doubt volatile, Harry was bouncing back into view with a step ladder and a handful of small contraptions, all of which looked mean enough to pull hair their hair out with their metallic teeth, which glinted in the sunlight that streamed in through the window above the sink. Draco went to help him, but was saved from touching the things when Harry placed the stepladder against the counter, and deposited the things on the top. 

"And what is all this?" Severus eyed the contraptions with distrust, poking the back of one of the things in question hesitantly.

Harry smirked uncharacteristically, looking every bit the Slytherin Draco always imagined him to be. It did nothing to stop the hope they might have yet instilled Slytheirn qualities in him. "They're electric beaters Sev, you plug'em in the wall and beat the cupcake mix." Said Harry knowledgeably.

Severus turned to Harry doubtfully. "And muggles use these?" 

"Yes Sev, muggles use them," Harry sighed, "they're easier than a spoon." He the proceeded to open a small drawer full of torture devices and pulled out many things, a large spoon being one and a flat metal stick the other. "Spatula." Harry supplied helpfully, holding up the flat thing. 

"And why do we need that if we are making cup cakes?" Severus sneered, though it was barely considered a sneer seeing as he was staring in interest at what Harry was doing. As was the rest of them, as they'd gotten up from their seats and joined the three around the counter. 

Harry shrugged with an innocent smile, "I thought we could make cookies while we waited for the cupcakes." 

"And you were going to tell me this, when?" Said Severus stiffly, eyeing the little boy before him. 

Harry pretended to think for a moment, childishly pushing his pointer finger onto his chin and giving an overly thoughtful look, though one could see he was just teasing by the way he was smirking. He's been with us too long, Draco thought smugly. "When you see the cookie mix." Harry said sweetly.

"You mean when you get caught." Said Blaise, smirking knowingly.

"When I let him catch me." Harry corrected innocently, a smirk something akin to Blaise's on his face. He missed the looks of muted surprise on Pansy's, Theo's, Goyle's and Draco's faces. 

"So let's begin already." Severus snapped, though anyone could see he was blatantly proud of Harry's Slytherin thinking.

It'd taken them what Draco deemed, forever, to get the trays of cupcake mixes into the 'oven'. Harry was the main chef, he'd showed them the ropes of how to successfully use the electic-doodads -No matter what Harry said, Draco still didn't trust them- without injuring themselves, he'd warned Pansy quite ferociously about the risk of tearing her hair out and thoroughly freaked her out, to all of their amusement. She refused the offer of beating one of the mixes quite vehemently after their little chat and just sat back and watched.

They'd ended up making four batches of different cupcakes; vanilla, chocolate, blueberry and sponge. He'd asked Harry why they made four different types of cupcakes instead of just one, and Harry replied saying he wanted a range of choices, not just one. Draco chose not to question Harry after that, and just enjoyed the moment while it lasted.

There were a few hiccups along the way, though thankfully Draco wound up with minimal to no wounds -although Greg had the unfortunate luck to get his finger bitten by the metal teeth of the thing, he's fine now- and enjoyed the delicious aroma that was wafting from the oven. He was sure that they'd thoroughly enjoyed their cooking session, well he surely did and he'd had to use silly muggle devices!

He was shocked to find how amazing it'd been to hold one of those doodads, to beat the ingredients until they were properly mixed and clump-less. He enjoyed how it hummed in his hand, knowing that it'd taken a liking to him. It was far more different than potion making could ever be.

He'd even had the pleasure of watching Severus be instructed thoroughly when it'd come to his turn controlling the doodad. And fail. He hadn't laughed quite so hard before, he couldn't remember a time where he had laughed like this where Harry was concerned, or Severus. Severus had ended up with the beater in his hair, no one knew how that happened, but all they did know was that Severus was a clutz and a clumsy oaf when it came to cooking. No matter if it's the easiest thing in the world.

"Shut up." Sneered Severus, though the effect was minimal as his cheeks pinked when Draco pointed at the large messy ball of hair on the right side of his head. He turned and stalked from the kitchen in a huff, though little did he know, that he bared a backside caked in blue cupcake icing that set the group of four off their rockers again. Greg fell off his chair at the sight.

"Un-- unbelievable!" Draco choked out as soon as he had enough air in his lungs.

"Shut. Up!" They heard Severus bark from the sitting room.

What was air again?