Draco Malfoy was very pleased with his life. His vast room was stocked with shelves and bookcases neatly storing his generous amount of toys, the walls supporting Pride of Portee posters signed and framed. His bed, large and layered with thick duvets and buried under stuffed animals, sat below the wide window looking out to the manor’s massive courtyard.

Draco spent many of his days in that yard, wandering around the large and colourful gardens or scaring his father’s all-white peacocks. Mostly, though, he enjoyed the days when either of his parents would watch as he flew around the miniature quidditch pitch they had set up for him. He didn’t really get to use it that often, much to his dismay. Although they were quick to buy him a Nimbus 1700 when he asked, they were still hesitant to let their seven-year-old fly alone (or with a house-elf, which Draco was quick to suggest.)

On the days when he wasn’t allowed to use his broom, and it was too cold to go outside even with his heavy robes and dragonhide gloves, Draco would spend hours wandering the manor. He would follow the house-elves as best as he could before they popped away and end up in rooms he didn’t know were there. When he got bored with that, he would curl himself into one of the enormous velvet chairs in the library and rest a heavy book over his crossed legs, staring wide-eyed at the advanced diagrams and pictures as he tried to understand the text.

Days like today were Draco’s absolute favourite, though. Today was Wednesday, and Wednesday meant that Draco got to go and spend the entire day with his uncle Severus. He was especially excited about this visit in particular too, since uncle Sev had promised that they would be spending the full day at Hogwarts.

Like usual, Draco had woken up early, dressed himself and combed his hair back, grabbed his favourite purple dragon plush, and rushed down the steps to the dining room for breakfast.

“Morning, mum. G’Morning da’.” He greeted hurriedly as he pulled out his chair and just about threw himself into it. Narcissa smiled, “Good morning, Draco. Excited, are you?” He nodded eagerly, head bobbing so fast it made him dizzy. They ate their bacon, eggs, and toast quicker than normal, pace set by the enthusiastic Draco and when they finished Narcissa called for Dobby to clear the table.

“Are you ready, Dragon?” Lucius stood and brushed down his robes as Draco once again nodded, finishing his stolen piece of bacon, “Yes, father.” Draco stood up and, tucking his own dragon under his arm, rounded the table to hug Narcissa before he left. “Bye, mum, I’ll see you later. Love you!” She smiled into his hair, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “Goodbye darling, I love you as well. Have a good day with Severus.”

On a normal Wednesday, Draco would take the floo to his uncle’s house in Cokeworth all on his own, something he was very proud of. But Severus was in the process of moving offices and hadn’t yet secured his floo. Neither he nor Lucius wanted to disappoint the young boy though, so they had agreed on the Malfoy men side-along apparating to the school grounds, where Severus would meet them.

Lucius leaned over to peck his wife’s cheek, “I love you’s” passing through the air easily, before wrapping a firm arm around his son, Draco already hugging his middle. With a sharp Pop! they swiftly vanished from the dining room and, just as suddenly, reappeared on the lawn just before the  walls of Hogwarts.

Draco swayed, his feet tottering on the uneven grass and his stomach wavering just as much. Next to him his father stood steady, an arm dropping to anchor him stable. A moment passed before Draco opened his eyes, the sick feeling finally gone, and he smiled up at Lucius in thanks. “Of course. Now,” He responded, squeezing the boy’s shoulder gently. “I know you spend quite a bit of time with Severus, and that you follow his expectations as well as my own. While you are here, you will act respectful and respectable, do you understand?”

Draco nodded earnestly, the ghost of a “yes, father” on his lips when a black mass filled the corner of his eye.

“Uncle- !” He stopped himself, eyes shifting somewhat hesitantly back to his father. His brows furrowed in slight concentration as he corrected himself. “Hullo, uncle Severus. It’s good to see you again.”

The man in question raised a dark brow in the direction of his friend before dipping his head down towards the boy. “Hello, Draco. It is good to see you again as well.”

Lucius slipped the silver watch from his breast pocket and sighed at the time. “I have to go, Dragon, I will see you after dinner, yes?” Draco turned and nodded, smiling, “Yes, father. I love you, bye!” “I Love you, too, son.”

Once again facing his uncle, Draco smiled wide. “So, uncle Sev, what are we going to do today? Do you have plans for us? Oh! Can we explore the castle? Are we going to brew a potion? What abou-” With every question his voice raised another pitch, his excitement doubling and tripling until Severus felt the boy might actually explode.

“Draco.” He interrupted his rambling by pausing his steps, “What is my rule about questions?” His eyes narrowed to a more normal size, “Only one at a time.” “And why is that?” “So that you can actually answer them.” “That’s right. Now, when don’t I have a plan for our days together?” Draco showed all his teeth as grinned, another question on his lips as they started walking again.

Draco loved visiting his uncle Severus for many reasons. They always did things that his parents would never do with him at home, or would do things that uncle Severus was much better at than his parents. Severus would teach him little spells (he couldn’t do them yet, of course, but he loved watching and knowing how it worked), they would brew potions together, read, and often time go on what Draco called their ‘special adventures’.

Mostly, their so-called ‘adventures’ consisted of walks to the muggle supermarket or short trips on the underground to other local shops or even parks. Draco’s favourite adventure was to the zoo the year before, on his sixth birthday. They had taken a few ‘adventures’ to Hogwarts previously and was why he so eagerly looked forward to today. Before, Draco had only gone to Hogwarts when Severus had needed to pick something up or bring something to a professor.

The other time they had visited the school, Severus had put a much smaller Draco in front of him on an old school broom and zipped around the quidditch pitch. This time, Draco hoped they’d race together or even play catch with the quaffel. He also, although he knew it was probably unlikely, really wanted to explore the castle. He knew he wouldn’t be able to wander freely like he was able to at home or even at uncle Sev’s home, but he hoped for a tour of the castle at least.

He had been there a few long hours. Draco helped organize his uncle’s personal supplies and books, sneaking peeks inside the ones he knew he wasn’t supposed to read yet, but only when he was sure Severus’ wasn’t looking. Then they took what Severus called a “tour of the most important places”. He pointed to where the Slytherin common room was as they passed the hallway leading to it on their way up to the first floor, indicating to the Great Hall and giving mention to the library. “You’ll find more educating tomes in my personal collection, though, I promise.”

When they finished their walk to the hospital wing (relatively short when considering the size of the building as a whole, but more comparable to a short hike in young Draco’s perspective), Draco albeit collapsed on the nearest bed. Severus smirked at the boy, “Do you still want the full tour, Dragon?” Draco grumbled into the mattress. “No, uncle Sev.”

Only a moment after they entered the infirmary, a woman Draco had never seen before strode towards them, her heels clicking against the title and a large smile on her face. He quickly pushed himself off from the bed, straightening the sheets back to decent. “Oh, Severus! You always have such perfect timing!” Severus hummed in response, smirking again as he watched Draco still trying to make the wrinkles go away.

“Well, here you are- Whose this young man, Severus?” Draco stopped suddenly and straightened his back and shoulders, giving a smile full of loose and missing teeth as he introduced himself. “I’m Draco Malfoy, ma’am.” She smiled back at him, just as wide and Severus rolled his eyes as she spoke, sickeningly sweet. “Well, Mr. Draco Malfoy, I’m Madam Pompfrey. I’m the mediweditch at Hogwarts. Are you going to help professor Snape brew my potions? They’re very important.” Draco nodded, as proud as the peacocks his father loved so much.

“He’s a sweet boy, isn’t he, Severus?” She said, still doting on Draco. He hummed again, not wanting to rudely walk away yet also so very uninterested in the conversation. He couldn’t yet leave without the list, the entire trip would’ve been fruitless. “Oh, of course! Your list.” She reached a hand in the pocket of her apron, handing Severus a folded parchment.  She turned to Draco then, bending down. “Draco, dear, would you care for a sweet?”

His eyes widened and turned, frantic, to Severus, “Can I uncle, please?” Severus rolled his eyes again but shrugged. “Be my guest. It isn’t my home you’re sleeping in tonight.” Dracon grinned and rushed to the mediwitch who now held a chocolate frog and a small hard candy in her palm. Draco stretched out his palm instantly, then frowned, his hand hovering over hers as though the choice was life threatening. Sensing his trouble, she smiled gently and whispered, “Take both of them.” With a wink.

The trek down the dozens of stairs seemed much easier on Draco now that he knew what to expect, not to mention he was sucking on an extra tart lemon drop. When they reached the entrance to Severus’ private rooms, and he was still skipping, Severus was positive the candy was laced with a light pepper-up and cursed Poppy silently.

“Alright, Draco, we have a long list to complete here. Can you go and collect our cauldrons, you remember where we put them this morning?” Draco nodded eagerly, “Yes, uncle Sev” tossed over his shoulder as he went to the cabinet to get his uncle’s favourite cauldron and his own miniature version, balancing carefully on a shelf to reach down the glass stirring kit he knew his uncle preferred. He carried the equipment to the lab and climbed up on a stool so he could lay it all out neatly.

Severus joined him a moment later, a trail of glass jars and vials floating behind him. He sent the ingredients to the table and unfolded the list from the mediwitch, enlarging it so Draco could read it easier. “I’ll start the Calming Draughts, do you think you can manage a Boil Cure?” Severus glanced sideways at Draco who swallowed deeply, brow furrowed low over his yes but nodded and spoke with all the confidence a seven year could. “Yes, uncle Sev.”

Severus accioed a potions book, flipped it to the correct page for Draco and first directed him to set aside his ingredients. The boy had just stirred in the stewed horned slugs and was measuring out his porcupine quills (for the third time, as instructed) when Severus’ alarms went off, startling them both. “Uncle Sev, what is that?” Draco had both hands pressed against his ears in an attempt to block out the blaring sound, his voice much louder than it needed to be.

Severus turned it off with a quick mutter of the password and waved his wand over the two potions, casting a stasis charm on each. “It means someone is at my door.” He scowled, stalking over to the door and rolling his eyes the moment he saw the man standing outside them.

Like the women upstairs, Draco had never seen this man before, but he was glad that he didn’t notice him at first because he didn’t want to be caught staring. The man had pink robes on, little stars and moons scattered over them. His beard was long enough that Draco wondered if it reached his belly button and laughed a little to himself at the idea. He wondered why Severus was friends with such a strange man, but then Severus didn’t really have any friends unless he counted Lucius.

“I told you she couldn’t be trusted, Albus.” Severus’ words were harsh and loud, bringing Draco out of his thoughts and leaving him even more confused. “She’s the only-” The old man spoke far more softer and Draco wondered how the two were even having the same conversation. “This is the fifth time, old man. Do you think he enjoys sleeping on the pavement?” “Well, of course not, my dear boy, but that is why I am sending you this time.” Severus scoffed. The old man, Albus?, ignored him, “I think he just needs a firmer hand, enough with the witches from the Ministry.” Suddenly, twinkling blue eyes were staring into Draco’s. He gasped. “You can even take young Mr.Malfoy. Get the boys some ice cream, let Draco do some of your convincing.”

Severus’ frown deepened. “Do I get a choice in the matter?” He asked, already knowing the answer. Draco watched with his own frown of confusion as the colourful man smiled and patted his uncle’s shoulder. He turned on his heel and then stopped himself. “Oh! I almost forgot.” He exclaimed, swiveling back around and pointing his wand at the fireplace, “Your floo is ready now, Severus. Arabella is waiting for you. Have a good day, boys.” He turned again and walked out, and Severus shut the door strongly behind him.

A moment of tense silence passed before Draco spoke. “Uncle Sev?” He asked tentatively.

Severus sighed, breathing deeply through his nose before turning to the small boy at his table. “Yes, Draco?” “Why is that weird man making you do things?” Severus smirked.

Severus never answered Draco’s question, and he never answered when he asked who the bright man was, he only told him he was the headmaster. Then he told Draco to go and fetch his robes, but didn’t even tell him where they were going! Draco felt this entirely unfair as this broke one of uncle Sev’s most important rules: as long as he phrased his questions properly, and asked them one at a time, they would all be answered. It also scared Draco, not truly frightened him, but made him worry that he was going to be sent home early so his Sev could go spend time with someone else. He grabbed his dragon before returning to his uncle, just to be safe.

“We’re going on an extra special adventure today, Draco.” Severus said instead of the words he had dreaded. “We’re going to take the floo to someplace you’ve never been. I need you to say ‘Arabella Figg’s house’, alright?” Draco nodded, using the floo was something he could do with confidence. He did it every week!

He stepped in the fireplace, grabbed a handful of the green powder in his right hand, and squeezed his left arm closer to his chest so his dragon wouldn’t get lost, and shouted the words. He disappeared in a cloud of green.

Draco stepped out of the accompanying fireplace, almost falling over the cats swirling around his ankles. The house smelled of cats. An old lady stood in front of him, on the other side of a small coffee table, smiling sadly. Can you smile sadly, Draco wondered? He decided it was yes after taking another careful look at the woman.

He stepped out of the way, a bit of a struggle because he didn’t want to hurt any of the cats, and not a second later Severus came through.  Draco looked around the room curiously. Was this where their extra special adventure was to?

Severus scowled at the room, brushing the soot off his robes as he stepped out, narrowly avoiding a tabby cat’s tail.

“Severus?” The woman asked quietly, looking from him to Draco. “Arabella, hello.” He greeted, taking a step forward to take her offered hand. “Albus finally sent someone who will do something, hm?” She shook her head as she spoke, a deep frown on her face.

She sighed at her own remark. “It’s about damn time. I’ve been telling that man for years that the boy wasn’t safe here, that he should be taken out. We both know that even a single rumor would have families lining around the block, trying for custody.” She shook her head again, trying to calm herself. “I believe that is his point. He wants the boy to be humbled. He’s not going to have a savior if Potter grows up pampered and cherished, is he?”

Draco watched as the two as they talked, obviously upset about something to do with a boy. Not him, Draco was sure, but who? He had thought he heard ‘Potter’ but the only Potter he knew of was Harry Potter, so they couldn’t be talking about him because he was extra powerful and special. He survived the killing curse! The way they were talking about this Potter was almost like the opposite, like he needed help or something. Again, Draco wondered what kind of special adventure this was as he crouched down to pet one of the cats.

“Draco,” Severus called a few minutes later, startling the boy and the cat. “Come along, we’re leaving. Say goodbye to Mrs.Figg.” Draco stood up and smiled at the strange woman, “Goodbye Mrs.Figg, thank you.” She smiled back at him, mussing his hair as he passed. “Of course, dear. Thank you, Severus. I’ll see you two soon.” Severus nodded once in agreement, taking two large strides to the door and directing Draco out.

They reached the corner of the block when Severus sighed, “Draco, we have to do something very important. Until we return to my quarters, I need you to do everything I ask you, when I ask you. Can you do that?” Draco nodded. His hand tightening around Severus’ as they started across the street.. “Of course I can, uncle Sev.” He frowned, chewing his lip as he thought about what he’d heard. “Uncle Sev?” “Yes, Draco?” “Are we going to rescue the boy?”

Severus stopped suddenly, his hand dropping Draco’s in shock. “Rescue the boy?” He restated, turning to Draco with a raised eyebrow. Draco shrugged, shifting the collar of his robe in the August heat. “Yeah. I mean- that’s what that lady said, right? That he wasn’t safe here. So, we’re going to rescue him right? That’s our extra special adventure this week?” Draco looked up with wide innocent blue eyes, a smile at the edges of his lips at the thought of being a hero.

Severus sighed, for what seemed like the dozenth time that afternoon alone, and started walking again. “No, Dragon. We’re not rescuing him.” Draco frowned, running a few steps to catch up. “Wait but- why not?” Severus sneered, “Because rescuing him goes against the ‘greater good’.”

“Huh?”

They had stopped at a house across the street where Severus knocked and waited there for a few minutes, listening to the silence before he decided there was no one inside. Severus led them down block after block, scouring the area for a small dark-haired boy with a lightning bolt scar. He figured that the boy couldn’t have gotten far, Albus was alerted the instant the boy left a fifty-foot radius of his aunt, but they had lingered longer than expected in Arabella’s house.

The woman had been paying close attention to Potter since he arrived there, her job made easier every time the Dursley’s took any kind of family outing. That was what first spiked her worry, she had told Severus. The boy had been only two and a half when they first came knocking, albeit begging her to watch him as they took their Dudley to the zoo. She had been outraged, but that was only the first of the many hours she babysat him.

Severus tried to wave away her worries, both for her sake and his own. As much as he absolutely despised James Potter, he would never wish harm on a child. Not even Potter’s. But she countered each of his refutes.

When he suggested family bonding time as the reason they abandoned the Potter boy, she listed half a dozen times he was left with her so his guardians could simply have free time. When he had commented that most children had to do housework, chores to learn responsibility, she told him of the hours the boy spent in the garden as he pulled weeds from the flowers, mowed the lawn, painted the fence. When he offered independence as an excuse for the boy doing the shopping on his own, she told him of how much his cousin bullied him, took his things, how his aunt and uncle hardly paid him any attention and Severus could no longer excuse the neglect, the abuse that he had suspected.

He knew that something would have to be done, to what extent would depend on just what state he found the boy in. Severus had never been a fan of Petunia Dursley, not when they were kids nor when she didn’t attend her own sister’s funeral services. Remembering how she had treated him and Lily as children, Severus had strongly opposed the idea of leaving the Potter boy with her and went to Albus with his, dare he call them, concerns. Evidently, as proved by the events currently transpiring, the old man weighed his “greater good” more important than the wellbeing of a child. Severus sneered at the idea.

He had, of course, grown up with his own fair share of traumatic experiences, and knew firsthand the feelings that came along with that childhood. He felt it was what made him a qualified and more than an adequate head of house. Severus could spot the signs of abuse in his students easier than any of his colleagues. It did help that most of the said children ended up in his house to begin with.

Severus was beginning to give up on finding this particular child, though. They had been walking for nearly an hour with no sign and Draco was obviously tiring, half leaning against Severus’ leg and having stopped talking fifteen minutes ago. Severus sighed, resigning the task to something he would have to finish once he dropped Draco back home.

“He looks sad, doesn’t he uncle Sev? That boy?” Draco raised an arm and pointed past the park on the corner and to the figure beside a tree. A figure that, if Severus was a more optimistic man, he might have thought was Harry Potter. He watched the boy drowning in his blue sweater for a moment, but then shook his head with a frown. The boy was much too small to be seven years old.  He sighed, just about to resign the task to something he would have to finish once he dropped Draco back home, when the figure shifted, his face meeting Severus’.

Draco watched as the expression on Severus’ face changed. “Is that him? The boy we’re rescuing?” He asked excitedly, suddenly awake as his head turned from Severus to the boy as if on a swivel. Draco didn’t wait for an answer, the ever-so-slight glint of hope in Severus’ eyes confirmed it for him. He took off walking toward the boy.

He didn’t run, running wasn’t something respectable people did, his father said, especially with no danger around. But he was moving at a pace faster than a walk, some kind of excitement fueled hopping jog. He didn’t think what he was doing was very respectable, but he really needed to get to the boy. They had to save him! It was important. He hoped his father would understand.

Draco slowed as he neared the boy, not wanting to frighten him into running again. From what he’d heard, the boy had runaway and they were taking him home. Draco thought that was a much better idea than leaving him here, he didn’t seem to be very happy, considering he’d runaway, and he didn’t look very healthy either.

Draco smiled, wide and showing all of his teeth. “Hi. My name is Draco Malfoy. What’s yours?” The little boy had already been hiding under his sweater, curled in on himself to make himself as small as possible, and when Draco spoke he only shrunk more. Draco frowned, humphed, and plopped down into the grass. “That isn’t very nice, y’know. Ignoring someone who’s only being nice to you.”

Draco sighed. The boy had upset him, but he could see how scared he was. That didn’t make it okay for him to be rude, though. “It’s alright, I guess. You’re scared. But you still shouldn’t be rude to nice people.” Draco leaned back on his knees, arms crossed in a very dignified manner for a seven-year-old holding a stuffed dragon.

“So, you ran away, right? That’s what the colourful man told my uncle, that you ran away. And he sent us to come and rescue you!” Draco smiled toothily again, but then sighed when the boy still didn’t speak. A gust of warm wind went by and Draco shifted under his robes, then shrugged to himself. He placed his dragon in the grass and started working on the buttons, sliding it from his arms. He was folding it when he felt something in the pocket, something box-y. He pulled it out and, “Oh, hey! It’s the chocolate frog from the mediwitch.” He was going to just shove it back in his pocket for later, but then he had an idea.

He looked at the boy, his head tilted. “You like chocolate, don’t you?” He didn’t wait for a nod. Of course he liked chocolate, everyone likes chocolate. “I’ll give you my chocolate frog, the card and everything, if you tell me your name first.” Draco felt very proud of his plan and smiled while the boy watched him with his frantic bright green eyes.  He twirled the chocolate between his fingers, watching as the boy watched him.

After a moment, the boy wiggled against his tree, sitting up a little higher. “My name is Harry Potter.” He spoke so quietly that Draco was glad they were so close together. He didn’t focus on that though, had the boy really said he was Harry Potter? Draco blinked. Then shook his head. Then he laughed. “Nu uh!” He said, “You can’t be Harry Potter, you’re only saying that to get my chocolate! That’s not fair!” The boy, who Draco did not believe was Harry Potter, shrunk back against his tree, wrapping his arms tightly around himself.

Draco frowned. He didn’t mean to scare the boy, he was just shocked. Everybody knew who Harry Potter was, he was like, peoples’ favourite wizard. And he was the same age as Draco! There was no way this boy was Harry Potter, nobody would let him sit here like this, all scared and by himself. They loved him!

This boy didn’t look very loved, in Draco’s opinion. He looked the opposite of loved, hated? But that couldn’t be right, not if he was Harry Potter. Draco shook his and looked at the boy again. He just couldn’t be Harry Potter. Harry Potter would never look so small and weak and fearful. They wouldn’t allow it.

The boy stayed quiet while Draco thought, and that only upset Draco more. It wasn’t fair. He was trying to be very nice to him, even offering him his chocolate!, and the boy was only ignoring him and lying.

“Why won’t you tell me your real name?” Draco asked instead of the many other things he wanted to say. “I really will give you my chocolate.” The boy frowned, face scrunched up behind his hair. “I really am Harry Potter.” Then it was Draco whose face scrunched up, and he shook his head again. “Prove it then.” He said this time. “Show me your scar or something.” The boy looked shocked, but then he slowly brought an arm out from under his sweater and it crept up to hold up his hair.

Draco stared at the red lightning bolt on the boy’s forehead for an entire minute. His jaw had dropped open slightly and his own eyes were as wide as the boy’s, everything he had previously thought about the boy vanishing, “Woah. So,” He had to blink a few times before he could finish, “You really are  Harry Potter!” He stared a moment longer, just at his face now that the boy- Harry Potter- had let his hair fall back to cover the scar, and then smiled suddenly. “Here you go! Just as promised.”

Harry Potter looked at Draco’s outstretched hand, at the little pentagonal box resting in the middle, “I can r-really have it?” Draco nodded and stretched his arm farther, “Yeah, that’s what I said wasn’t it?” Harry Potter smiled a little as he reached for the chocolate slowly, yanking it back so fast Draco thought it might fly.

“So, if you’re really Harry Potter, how come you’re sitting out here alone and so scared?” “Huh?” Draco shifted in the grass, his knees were starting to hurt. “You know, you’re Harry Potter. Doesn’t everyone uhm, cater to you? Treat you like a prince?” Draco smiled, waiting to hear about all of Harry Potter’s life. Instead, he was met with a frown.

“Treat me like a prince? They don’t- they don’t do that.” “Oh. Why not?” Harry shrugged. “They hate me.” He whispered, staring at the grass. Draco shook his head. “That can’t be true! They’re supposed to love you! Your family doesn’t love you?”

Severus had debated whether he should chase after Draco, but decided to let the boy try something first. He figured a seven-year-old would be far less intimidating than himself, and from what Arabella had said the Potter boy was easily frightened.

Their conversation had been going on longer than Severus had expected. He was trying to gauge what was being said by the boys’ body language, but that was proving difficult. Draco he could read far better than Potter, having known him his entire life and spending so much time with the boy. But even still, he was only seven, and seven-year-olds require a distinct type of reading.

Focusing on Draco’s fluctuating grin, Severus wasn’t able to tell much of what was happening. Potter hadn’t moved much, if at all, from where he sat against the tree, save for when he snatched back the candy from Draco. Severus gave up on figuring out what the boys were saying and instead made his way to the park bench in front of him, studying Potter.

The boy, what Severus could see of him at least, was incredibly malnourished and underdeveloped. He was an estimated five inches shorter than Draco and half his size, although the mammoth-sized sweater he had draped around him hid the majority of his appearance. Even Draco could sense how scared the other boy was by him, his face scrunched with the effort of trying to not frighten him.

It seemed Potter was finally starting to respond to Draco, though it didn’t appear to be one of the normal, joyful conversations children usually had with one-another. Instead, both boys were frowning, a look which Severus noticed quickly against Draco’s face, accustomed to the smile that always rested there. Severus frowned as he watched them, the scene beginning to escalate.

Draco was standing now, arms flailing as he spoke, though he still wasn’t speaking much louder than before as Severus had to strain to hear him and even then was only just able to make out the buzz of his voice. Potter stood up, Severus mirroring him, a small burst of panic shivering down his spine. What could they possibly have said to each other? Their movements were becoming sporadic and Severus struggled to tell whether their sudden adrenaline had sprouted for anger or excitement and, fearing the worst, starting taking long strides toward them.

And then, in only the instant it took Severus to blink, they were gone.

Harry didn’t quite know what had just happened and thought that to be a fitting summary for his day. He had been sitting against his tree, the one that he always went to after he panicked and ran away, trying to calm himself down. He had known he would have to go back to his relatives’ house again soon, either on his own or after the strange lady would find him and force him back.

The first time she had showed up, Harry was only four. He didn’t even run away that time, or at least he didn’t think it counted as running away. He had been sitting in the corner of his cupboard, trying to stifle his sobs so his aunt Petunia wouldn’t hear them. His hands had hurt so badly from where she’d forced them into the stove though, that every time he brought them to clamp his mouth shut it only made him cry more. When the door opened to reveal his uncle’s face, home from work an hour early, Harry had let out a panicked yelp and suddenly he was at the park.

That was what had happened this time, too. Only this time he was holding the strange boy’s hand and standing in a strange room. Harry was in awe by what he saw, dropping the boy’s hand so that he could spin in a circle to better see the room. It was better than both of Dudley’s bedrooms.

The room was bigger than any bedroom Harry had ever seen, probably the size of his relatives’ family room. There was a green plush rug on the floor that looked comfortable enough to sleep on and an enormous velvety bed almost hidden by all of the stuffed animals, pillows, and blankets laying over it. The walls were painted light grey and posters of what Harry assumed was some movie hung on the walls in silver frames, outlining the broad windows and all three doors of the room. Shelves hung where the posters didn’t, each holding expensive looking models and weird items, and Harry could only guess what they were. A white bookshelf towered over him, stuffed full with dozens of books, the other walls supporting similar but smaller shelves, all with soft cubes, their labels telling Harry of all the toys they held. A matching desk rested against another wall.

He didn’t want to move from his spot, didn’t want to chance touching anything that wasn’t his or, he shivered at the thought, breaking anything. But Draco had picked up his hand again and was speaking to him, “So, do you like it?” For a brief second, Harry was hurt. Was this another mean trick, like when Dudley had offered a piece of cake to Harry, only to rub his face in it and call his dad when Harry did take it? But he looked at the smile on the boy, how bright his eyes shone, how he was still holding Harry’s hand but only lightly, loose enough that Harry could take it back if he needed to. And Harry smiled back, deciding that the boy wasn’t trying to trick him.

Harry nodded, much to Draco’s pleasure, who then led Harry to the beanbags at the foot of his bed. A short table was laid out in front of one, tiny figures of creatures Harry had never seen scattered over it the same way Dudley spread out his dinosaurs. “Do you wanna play with me?” Draco asked as he sat in the cushioned chair. “Really?” Harry had never been asked to play with someone before, and he didn’t have any of his own toys either. Well, not unless he counted the blob shaped ones he made from old aluminum foil, but he didn’t usually count those. But that was all he was allowed. “I can play with you?”

Draco had looked confused, which Harry didn’t understand at all. He should be the confused one afterall. “Well, I asked you to, didn’t I?” Harry grinned and sat with his legs crossed on the floor, staring intensely at all of the toys. When Draco didn’t move to grab any, Harry glanced up, confused, and once again saw that strange look on Draco’s face. “What are you sitting on the floor for? Didn’t you see the other chair?” He pointed at it, with both hands, just in case Harry truly hadn’t seen it.

“I can sit there?” Harry knew his jaw had dropped when his mouth had started to go dry, but he didn’t really care at that moment. Who was this boy? He was letting Harry do all sorts of things he never could before. “No one else is using it. Yeah, you can sit there.” He added when Harry hadn’t moved after a moment.

Draco was watching him rather than looking at the toys, he could feel it. Harry felt it was very backwards since he had never seen anything even close to these kinds of toys before. They were amazing!

“How come you’re looking at my toys like you’ve never seen toys before?” Harry startled at the boy’s voice and turned to see Draco watching him with the same weird look and his head tilted like a puppy’s. “B’cause I haven’t.” Harry said. At Draco’s dramatic expression he quickly shook his head, correcting himself. “I- I mean I’ve seen toys. I just- I haven’t ever gotten to play with them b’fore.”

Draco’s face was only more incredulous at that. “You’ve never played with toys before?” He was in a state of such shock that his voice was hardly above a whisper, like what he was saying was something so unheard of, something so bad, that no one else could hear about it. He leaned back in his beanbag, head resting against his bed frame. “I can’t believe it. He’s never played with toys before. Harry Potter’s never played with toys before.”

Harry didn’t quite see what all the fuss was about. He was a freak. An abomination. A waste of space. Worthless. Undeserving. Selfish. Unwanted. He was only kept around so his chores wouldn’t go undone. He didn’t get to play with toys. Didn’t Draco understand that?

Draco didn’t understand. What kind of a person didn’t play with toys? Didn’t Harry have a bedroom full of stuffed animals and all his favourite toys like he had? What did Harry ask for on his birthday if not toys? What did Harry do all day, if he wasn’t playing with toys? Draco tilted his head as he frowned at Harry, maybe he would understand something if he looked at him differently. That’s what his mum always told him.

“Do you… Do you like to read books, then?” Harry shook his head, messy dark curls flopping in his eyes. “I don’ know how to read books.” “You don’t know how to read and you’ve never played with toys before?” Draco was scandalized. “What do you do all day?”

Harry seemed to shrink at the question and didn’t answer for a long moment. “I do my chores.” Draco stared with eyes. He had chores, too. He had to keep his room tidy, do all of his studying, and go to bed by nine o’clock. He didn’t always enjoy those tasks, but they never, ever took him all day to finish. “What are your chores?”

Again, Harry seemed to grow smaller, shoulders narrowing under his sweater. He swallowed loudly and chewed his lip, hesitating again. When he finally started to speak, his words sounded almost robotic.

“First I have to clean the family room, and then the kitchen. Then I make Dudley eggs and toast, aunt Petunia does the bacon. Then I do all the dishes. Then I clean the bathroom and Dudley’s bedroom. When he goes out for playtime, I clean his second bedroom. Then I mow the lawn. And on Sundays I wash uncle Vernon’s car and on Tuesdays I pull up the weeds.”

By the time Harry was done, Draco felt the same he had after he’d drunken one of Severus’ Confusing Concoctions. Why was he doing all of that stuff? When did he play? When did he learn? What was left for their house elves to do? “But… why?” Was the eloquent way he phrased his question.

Harry shrugged. “That’s my jobs.” “Why don’t you just… not do them?” Harry shook his head fast, his hands shot out to do the same motion. “No! No no no. I have to do my chores. I can’t- I can’t not-  have to.” He nodded to prove his point, but Draco still didn’t understand. “Why?” Somehow, Harry managed to look more fearful at that. He dropped his head, staring at the fallen occamy lost in the carpet. “B’cause uncle V’rnon will punish me.”

Now Draco was positive that these uncle Vernon and aunt Petal had mistaken Harry for a house elf, he was small enough, Draco thought. He was about to tell him as such when he heard a bang! downstairs, followed by someone calling his name. He startled, not as bad as Harry, though, who had fallen off his beanbag and the noise, and rushed to his feet.

“Draco!” Was called again but this time he thought he recognized it. He took a step forward and called back, “Uncle Sev?” Hurried footsteps echoed through the hall and then his bedroom door was flung open, and standing before Draco was a harried looking Severus.

For the first few moments after the boys vanished, Severus was frozen, eyes glued to the spot next to the tree. Then, just as quick as he had seen them disappear, Severus was jolted back into reality. As if his magic needed to make up for the minutes lost, he sent a dozen tracking charms, locator spells, magic detection charms. All of them turned up nothing. He cast additional spells, checking for any traces of dark magic in the area, and didn’t know whether to be relieved that they were negative or worried since it meant he truly had no idea where to look.

He spent another few minutes scanning the area again, running through his memory of the few seconds before. He had seen Draco stand, the boy obviously passionate about something, and then Potter stood up as well. That was what prompted Severus to go toward them initially. He saw Draco calm his arms and stick one out, Potter hesitating before taking it. And then they were gone.

If the boys had been older, he would have thought they apparated, as that’s what it had looked like. But they weren’t older, they were boys. Children. They couldn’t control their magic for simple spells, let alone a side-along apparation. Severus shook his head. He needed to start somewhere.

Not truly believing they were there, but not having thought of any better options, Severus apparated himself to Potter’s house. It was a small, brown home amidst a dozen other small, brown homes. He didn’t see any lights on in Number Four, Privet Drive, but stalked toward the door anyway, wandlessly casting alohomora.  

He flipped the light switch next to him and grimaced at what he saw. The horrid wallpaper was covered in photo frames, nearly all showcasing the same boy. He was round faced with a smatter of blonde hair on the top of his head, small eyes and always clutching some half-mangled toy. In some of the other photos the boy was next to what Severus assumed was his father, a man with an equally large, round face as his son and a large mustache in the middle of it. Severus didn’t try to refrain from rolling his eyes as he glanced at another photo.

Petunia stood in the middle of her husband and son, her bony arms wrapped around them. Severus had hated her as a child and it seemed the feeling only grew with age. Tearing his eyes from her, he glanced at the rest of the pictures. Strange, he thought, not a single one was of Potter.

He moved along, eyes raking over the rest of the room. A movie tape sat on the television stand, its cardboard box peeking out from under. Severus pushed the tape aside, looking at the cartoon drawing of children riding colourful dragons. Suddenly, he was reminded of Draco, of the reason he was in the house at all.

He made his way up the stairs, boots thudding against the carpet covered wood. There were three bedrooms upstairs and a bathroom, which he ignored. Severus nudged open the door immediately to his right, which happened to be the master bedroom. He glanced around it quickly but, figuring no children would be inside, made his way to the next room.

The second room was only slightly smaller and cluttered with things. Severus wondered whether a boy lived in this room or a hippogriff. The large bed had its race car themed bedding pulled back and half falling off into the overflowing chest of toys next to it. More toys layed scattered over the floor, many looking uncared for with their missing bits and pieces discarded next to them. There were three sets of shelves in the room, all swarming with toys, and a desk opposite the closet doors.

Severus walked toward the closet and, moving aside a few shirts, decided there was no way these were Potter’s. They were much too big for an average seven year old, let alone the mess of skin and bones Potter was. Severus left the room and entered the next, expecting it to be Potter’s whether or not he and Draco were inside. Instead, he was met with what seemed to be some kind of toy room, or at least it was supposed to be.

Much like the room he’d just left, this one was drowning in toys of all sorts, a television set up in one corner and a computer in the other. There was no bed in the room, Severus noted, meaning whomever’s it was did not sleep here. He looked around some more from the doorway, not wanting to step in any messes, and frowned when he saw one of the oversized sweatshirts hung over a chair. “Do they keep the brat in the garage?”

Severus decided that, wherever they kept the boy, he wasn’t here now. He was making his way to the door when his cloak caught on something, but didn’t stick like he’d expected it to. Instead, the fabric had pulled open the little door under the stairs. Severus scoffed to himself. There was no way Potter was in there, he’d hardly fit.

Still, Severus looked inside, his head brushing the ceiling of the small cupboard even crouched. He pulled the chain cord dangling from the top, but the bulb only flickered. With a sigh he lit the tip of his wand, the small glow enough to illuminate the entire space.

A heap of blankets was on the floor and, Severus toed them further back by instinct, what seemed to be the stained mattress of a toddler’s bed underneath. Balls of foil fell to the floor with the blankets and Severus reached down to pick one up, examining it. He turned it in his hand, brow raised. What in Merlin’s name were these?

Tossing the foil back to the floor he stared back at the blankets. What was this room for? He ducked his head and backed out, then paused as something caught his eye. Taped above the door were several strands of paper, all torn to fit the space. The paper had been decorated with red swirls and yellow stars, and in big, crayon-written letters it said, “HARRY’S ROOM”.

Severus had stormed out of the house after that, but not before counting five locks on the small cupboard door. He was seething. They keep him in the cupboard? They keep a living human, a child, in the cupboard under the stairs? Lilly’s child? Severus tipped his head back and took a breath. Allowing himself to get so agitated would do nothing for the situation, nothing beneficial at least. He took a second breath. He still needed to find Draco as well as Potter.

Wishing for a pain relieving draught, he ran through the events of before the boys vanished. Other than apparting- Severus rolled his eyes. He was proving to be as thick-headed as his students. Of course it had looked like they had apparated, because they had. Draco had been experiencing stronger and more frequent burst of accidental magic lately, nothing as strong as apparating, although Severus assumed that was a combination of both the boys’ magic.

Thinking he should've checked there first, Severus apparated to Malfoy Manor. He made a note to tell Lucius how much he appreciated being keyed into the wards, and shoved open the cherry doors before the house elves could do it for him. “Draco!” Assuming the elves were going to take of the doors, he made his way up stairs, calling out again. That time, Draco called back and Severus almost tripped in relief.

“Uncle Sev!” Draco repeated, this time full of excitement rather than laced with concern. He ran up to him and wrapped his arms tightly around the highest part of his legs. “Uncle Sev I app’rated us here!” Severus huffed, giving in to his relief and hugging the boy back. “Yes, you did, didn’t you?”

“And I met Harry Potter! He was the boy we had to rescue, right? I rescued him!” Draco cheered for himself and unattached from Severus, pointing at where Harry was kneeling behind the stuffed chair. Unlatching Draco’s other arm, Severus took a step toward Harry, only to stop in his tracks as Harry cowered behind the beanbag.

Smoothing his face into a neutral expression, Severus crossed his arms behind his back and took another step closer to Harry. “Hello, Harry.” He attempted to soften his voice so his usual sharp baritone wouldn’t frighten him more. “My godson seems to have brought you to his home. However, I was asked to ensure your safe return back to your own home.”

Severus had assumed the boy wasn’t going to be too pleased with that, but needed more confirmation than simply the cupboard. Of course, he did have enough evidence if he added in what Arabella had relayed to him, but none of that was physical proof. What he hadn’t expected, though, was the boy to hyperventilate.

When the strange man first entered the room, Harry wanted to flee. He was tall and pale and looked angry, his weird dark clothes only adding to the effect. Harry didn’t really understand anything that had happened since the blonde boy started talking to him, and it was all starting to scare him.

He had decided that Draco wasn’t trying to trick him by bringing him to his room and really did seem to want to play with Harry. As confused as Harry was by all of that, he thought it was nice. Someone wanted to play with him! But then the boy started to ask him questions, things like why he hadn’t ever played before or why he didn’t just not do his chores.

Harry wanted to tell Draco, he wanted the other boy to become his friend, he hadn’t ever had a friend before. And from what Harry knew from the glimpses of Dudley’s cartoons he caught as he tidied up around him, friends told each other things. The problem was that Harry knew the Dursleys’ would find out if he did say anything, they always did. And it always ended up worse for Harry.

When he had, dare he say, teleported to the park the few years before, Harry had answered all of the lady’s questions. She had given him a kind smile and a nice red lollipop, and flashed him a paper card that read, “Ministry of Magic: Department of Family Services”. Aunt Petunia always told Dudley not to talk to strangers unless they were with the police, but Harry figured this nice woman would be okay. So when she asked if his uncle had ever hurt him, he had nodded innocently. And when she had buckled Harry into her car and drove him back to his relatives’, Harry had stared out the window and sucked his candy, not thinking of the consequences waiting for him. He wasn’t allowed to lie to the Dursleys’, so of course he would tell the truth to the strange woman.

But uncle Vernon made sure Harry had learned his lesson. As soon as the lady left, with a strange glance toward Harry, he had pulled off his belt. By the time he was done, Harry’s back was swollen with welts and he could feel the blood as it dripped down his thighs. The next time Harry had run away, he made sure not to say anything about how he was punished at home.

This time though, Harry wasn’t being asked questions by a fancily dressed woman but a little boy like him, wrapped in a cape like a superhero. And he had even given Harry his chocolate. So he figured that when Draco asked about his chores, it would be okay to answer them truthfully.

But then the strange man, uncle Sev, Draco had called him, stormed into the room. What would this man do? Would he take him back to the Dursleys’? Had he heard everything Harry had said, would he tell aunt Petunia on him? And then he answered all of Harry’s questions in a single sentence. “However, I was asked to ensure your safe return back to your own home.”

Harry shook his head hard enough that it hurt his neck and made him dizzy. He was muttering under his breath, like some kind of mantra, “no no no, please no, don't make, please, I’m sorry”. He couldn’t go back to the Dursleys’, he just couldn’t. Not after- no. No no no. What uncle Vernon would do to him this time, Harry’s breath caught in his chest. The open wounds on his back screamed as he tucked his head into the space between his knees, covering his head with his arms and pulling his knees close.

Behind the amplified thud of his heartbeat pounding away in his ears, Harry thought he heard voices and strained to listen to them. Was it uncle Vernon, already here? Dudley, come to tease him more? “-wrong? Is he okay?” But the voice sounded panicked and only frightened Harry more. What had he done wrong? Was someone hurt? He rocked himself back and forth, biting his thumb to keep his sobs quiet as they poured out of him. “-bring water,” The voice was wavering, Harry only able to make out parts but even still he didn’t pay much attention to the words. “Go!” Harry flinched at the stern sound, a soft whimper escaping him.

He heard firsteps, felt the floorboards move under someone else’s weight, sensed someone coming closer. He closed his eyes tightly. Oh no. Had the dark man brought uncle Vernon to him already? Was it someone else? Harry braced himself for a hit, but the pliable leather of a belt never came, instead it was a firm warmth, resting gently on Harry’s left shoulder. He whimpered again, rocking faster. It would come soon, he thought, he couldn’t look up, uncle Vernon hated seeing Harry’s face.

But the warmth from his shoulder only spread, a small trail leading to the opposite side where it stayed. Another sudden warmth taking the previous place at his left side. Harry flinched, hunching further over himself to get away from the sensation. What was this, Harry thought, some new punishment? But then he heard something again, a voice but this time much softer.

“Harry.” The voice said and Harry wondered who it was. No one at the Dursleys’ called him ‘Harry’, it was always ‘freak’ or ‘boy’ or ‘brat’. “Harry, it’s alright.” Harry shook his head. No it wasn’t! It wasn’t alright! He’d stolen Dudley’s sandwich and uncle Vernon was going to kill him for it! “Harry- Harry, no one can hurt you here.” Harry shook his head again, but let himself listen to the sound of the voice. It was soothing, calm and deep and saying nice things. “Harry, no one will hurt you here. I won’t let them.”

Harry didn’t know how long he stayed like that, letting the warm voice soothe him back to reality. When he had finally caught his breath and his heart began to slow, he slowly brought his rocking to a still. He rested his head for another moment before opening his tightly clenched eyes and lifting his head from his knees. The room was quiet, the nice voice having diminished to hum a while ago, but Harry could still sense the figure next to him. Slowly, he turned his head to face him.

Draco didn’t know what had just happened, but he knew he didn’t ever want it to happen again. At first, he thought Harry was just starting to cry. But then he’d tucked himself into a small ball and started rocking and shaking and Draco didn’t know what was happening. He’d tried to ask Severus what was happening, uncle Severus always knew what was happening, but he’d just shushed Draco and sent him to fetch a glass of water and a cold rag.

He’d rushed back up the stairs, careful to not spill any water, but froze in the doorway. “Uncle Sev?” Draco hadn’t known Harry for very long, and he knew his father was always talking about trust, but he liked Harry. He didn’t quite know why, but he felt like he needed to protect him. He didn’t like seeing him like this, this scared him.

Severus was kneeling next to Harry and had been saying soft things to him when Draco returned. Again, he’d shushed Draco and nodded his head to the floor next to him, where Draco quickly put down the cup and rag. Then he’d crossed his legs and wrapped his arms around himself, hoping that Severus fixed Harry soon.

When Harry calmed down, Draco felt the urge to rush toward him and hug him. But he remembered the time he had ruined one of Severus’ potions and it exploded all over him. For the next two days while the antidote brewed, everything had caused him to freak out especially when anyone touched him. He wondered if that was how Harry had felt, overwhelmed. Suddenly Draco was cold with guilt. He’d been the one to bring Harry here in the first place. Was this all his fault?

.