Draco ate in silence as the Headmaster kept glancing in his direction. He did it so often that Severus finally saw it and questioned him. "Albus, why have you spent the majority of this meal staring at my son?"

Dumbledore rubbed his beard, seemingly lost in thought. "Something today has bothered me." Albus preceded to tell Severus how Fawkes had reacted to Harry and then how he felt something was not right about the whole situation.

Severus stood up from his seat, his lunch forgotten. He looked down at Harry, who by this time looked positively ill. "You have made Harry uncomfortable, and for what? Feelings you are having? Something your bird senses in the air? I will not stand by and watch you interrogate me or my son over some idle thoughts."

Dumbledore stood then, the twinkle in his eyes gone as he rounded the desk. "It was my intuition that brought you to me that night long ago. It was then that you trusted me with your very life, and I am telling you now that something is not right, Severus."

Severus rubbed his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I do not know what you are feeling, Albus, but I simply do not wish to hear about what-ifs. If you find anything substantial then let me know, otherwise I think I will go home early today."

Severus collected up Draco and flooed straight home. He told Draco he was going to lay down for awhile, and Draco, not knowing what else to do, went into the sitting room and flopped down on the couch. He sat there for the longest time, the guilt eating away at him, so long in fact that he didn't notice Severus coming back into the room.

"I couldn't sleep, so I thought we could do with a day out. Would you like that, just you and I?"

Draco merely nodded his head, not trusting his voice not to betray him. Severus called the house elves to pack them a picnic lunch and then he and Draco headed out to the lake by the house.

After placing the blanket down under a cypress tree, Severus put the basket down and laid out sandwiches and pumpkin juice. "Well, Harry, is there anything you wanted to talk to me about?"

Harry swallowed the bite he had taken and stared up at Severus, but he didn't see accusing eyes when he saw him. "Nothing really, why, is there something you wanted to talk about?"

Severus studied the child in front of him, his child. "Harry, I wanted to tell you why I spoke to Draco so harshly the other day. I couldn't explain it at the time, but after thinking about it I feel you should know."

"You don't have to tell me, Dad, I won't mind," Draco said, his hunger gone now, replaced by guilt.

Severus pulled Draco closer, sitting him next to him, placing an arm around his shoulders.

"You are far from being a grown up, but I feel you should know. I was harsh with Draco, but it was not done because I was necessarily angry. I was scared, Harry. I came home and you were gone and I did not know where you were, and my thoughts feared the Dark Lord had taken you somehow."

"Why would you think that?"

"Harry, the Dark Lord wants nothing more than to get his hands on you."

Draco gulped hearing this. He knew his father disapproved of muggles and half bloods, but Harry was a pureblood wasn't he, the same as he was, and his father would have killed him.

"So why were you so angry then?"

Severus stared out over the lake, the ripples as the wind caught the water soothing him somehow. "I grew angry because I love you and to lose you would kill me inside. I have known Draco since even before I knew about you. I have watched him grow into a fine young boy, but he is troubled, and I fear he will follow in Lucius' steps unless someone shows him they care. I wanted to care for him. I wanted to love him, but Lucius didn't want Draco learning anything but the cold reality of hate. If I could, Harry, I would take Draco in today, but his mother forbids it, and I think he would, too."

Draco's eyes grew tear filled. "He wouldn't hate the idea, honest."

Severus peered down at his son, who had tears streaming down his face. "How would you know, Harry? Has he spoken about it to you?"

Draco shook his head, knowing he was close to blowing his cover. "No, Dad, I just think Draco would love to come and live with us, but I don't know if it is possible now."

"Why don't you think so?"

"I think Draco might hate me is all. He would never want to live here as long as I am here."

Severus then did something unexpected, his face broke into a smile. "I have enough love in me for both of you."

Draco smiled, but it turned again to a frown. "Honestly, Dad, I don't think Draco would ever want to live here."

Severus pulled Draco into his lap, wrapping his cloak around Draco's shoulders when the wind picked up.

"All that matters is that I have you, and if I can help Draco, as well, then my heart will be lightened."

Harry was not enjoying a lovely picnic outside. When he had opened his eyes all he could see was one small sliver of light coming from underneath the door. Everytime he moved his wrist sent searing pain through his arm, but Harry was not going to let it stop him. Swiping at the tears on his face, he walked back up the stairs and began beating on the door with his other hand, screaming to be released, but no one came.

An hour later, quite hoarse from yelling and his body spent, Harry sat down on the bottom step. It was not just dark in the cellar but also cold, and the thin blanket given to him by the house elf barely covered his arms. He was alone, with a lunatic who he couldn't convince that he was not Draco.

Everytime Harry thought of how Draco stunned him he grew angry, but then he remembered Draco's last words of how sorry he was. Harry didn't think Draco was sorry at all. The gush of tears that Harry had been trying to hold back overcame him and he sobbed, not just small sobs, but ones that turned into wails of despair for the situation he was in.

Over and over Harry yelled for his Dad, but his cries drifted off into the dark crevices of the cellar, heard by no one but the mice that dwelled within it. He cried until no more tears would come and his throat was parched. He had no water, no food, and no heat. He was a prisoner, someone they would not find till he was long gone, he thought. Harry pulled a broken chair over and laid down in it, cradling his wrist to him, and fell into a troubled, an exhausted sleep.