The simple task that Albus had given him was proving to take much longer than “only a short five minutes out of the day” and take much more effort and care than Severus had intended to give it.

He had finally managed to get Potter to calm down, letting him rest and drink some cool water before he started his interrogation. So far, the boy’s answers were only furthering Severus’ irritation with his day and his career.  If only he hadn’t agreed to teach, he would have no reason to do Dumbledore’s bidding. But those thoughts led him to more upsetting thoughts, ones of his last years at Hogwarts, of surrendering to the Dark Lord. Ones of Lily.

He had been harshly reminded of Lily the moment he saw the small Potter boy, his eyes just as wide and green as hers once were. He had expected the boy to look more like James, but beside their shared unkempt hair, Harry had seemed to look and act more like his mother. Something Severus hadn’t expected in the least.

Even as he had speculated something wasn’t right with the boy’s home life, a portion of him larger than Severus wanted to admit had still assumed Harry would have the arrogance of Potter senior. Looking at him now, pressed against the frame of Draco’s bed, taking up as little space as possible, his face red and swollen from his earlier panic attack, Severus felt something akin to shame tighten his stomach.

He had believed all of Harry’s answers, the fear in his eyes and trembling voice too sincere to be anything but the truth. But that left him with only more issues, and he felt a wave of a migraine coming on.

Severus had asked the boy why he was fearful at first, but that had proved too abstract a question, and, with a sigh, Severus had rephrased. “Who is it that you don’t want to be returned to?” Harry sniffled and sucked his bottom lip between his teeth, staring at the floor as he said, “My aunt P’tunia ‘nd uncle Vernon.” “And why is it that you would rather stay with an adult you have never before met than go back to them? You have lived with them your entire life, have you not?”

Potter whimpered, cowering into himself. “Yes’ir.” He choked, voice going weak. Severus was about to ask him the first half of his question again when he took a shaky breath. “M’uncle Vernon is really super mad at me. I-I took- I ate Dudley’s sandwich and it- it wasn’t given to me a-and I stole it. And Dudley told his daddy and now he’s going to punish me.” Harry’s voice had cemented during his reply, lowering to a whisper as it did so.

Severus stared at him, brow furrowed deep over his eyes. He wanted to ignore the situation, tell the boy that he shouldn’t have taken what wasn’t his and that was that. But the fear in Potter’s voice had planted itself inside of Severus and he knew it would bother him until he dug to the bottom of it. “And why is it, if you knew you would be punished, which it seems you did, did you take the sandwich in the first place?”

The boy’s eyes grew wet but he quickly bowed his head again, “B’cause I was really hu- Dudley said he didn’t want it. He even threw it away, I just- I shouldn’t ‘ave done it.” Severus restrained his boiling anger, but the vision of the oh-so-thin arms before him reaching into the trash just to be able to eat was painful.

“Finish what you were going to say.” The boy hesitated only for a moment, and Severus wished his students would listen as aptly as Potter did. “I just wanted to eat somthin’.” Severus mirrored Potter’s sigh, rubbing his hand down his face in exasperation. The boy had simply wanted to eat. The implication had been there in the previous statement but there was something so solidifying that came with hearing him say so. “Draco, go to the kitchen and ask Dobby for two peanut butter and-” He looked down at Potter, “You’re not allergic are you? No. Draco, go ask for two peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. And a glass of milk, if you would.”

Draco had stood at the first sound of his name but hadn’t moved after. “But Dobby can come in here and bring it.” It was a statement, but he had phrased it more in the manners of a question. “I am aware. But I would appreciate it if you would go downstairs and ask him. Now, Draco.” He added with a stern look directed only at his godson.

He knew the boy was only curious, confused as to why Severus was sending him down a level when the house-elf would have been more than happy to appear right before him. But Severus wasn’t concerned about Draco at the moment, he was far more worried with Potter. Potter who had been apparated to a strange house and lived with muggles all his life, already paranoid and scared beyond reason because of them. There was no reason to bring in another strange… being to the situation, not at the moment at least.

With a deep sigh, Severus pulled Draco’s desk chair out and spun it around so he could sit in it properly while still facing Potter. “Why was your cousin given a sandwich and not you?” Harry looked up, bemusement shining in his eyes. “Bad boys aren’t allowed to eat, sir.” He had said it so matter-of-factly that Severus almost believed it was a justifiable excuse. Almost, before the weight of the phrase landed with full force. He took a deep, calming breath.

“And are you referring to yourself as a ‘bad boy’?” Potter nodded, his eyes meeting Severus’ for a moment before quickly flying to the floor again. “Yes’ir.” “Why?” “Huh?” Potter glanced up again, eyes till gleaming with that same look of utter befuddlement. “What is it that you’ve done that makes you so bad that you are undeserving of eating?” Severus felt already he was doing far more than what should be requested of him, but the way the boy -Lily’s boy- spoke about himself was too concerning for even his blackened heart.

Potter sucked his lip back between his teeth, apparently the home of that particular corner of his lip. Again the boy looked lost, but this time it was a different type of confusion. He looked as if something Severus had said was wrong, so wrong that anyone would have thought him stupid for even thinking such thoughts.

“I’m a freak. And freaks can’t be good boys.” Severus frowned watching the young boy shake his head. “And who is that makes these rules?” Of course, Severus already knew the answer to his question before Potter confirmed it, “Uncle Vernon and aunt Petunia”. He figured staying on a simpler track would be easier for now, not being in the right environment nor headspace himself to delve into the reasons they designated the boy a ‘freak’.

Before he could ask his next question, a small yelp carried in from the hall, followed by the telltale sound of glass shattering.

Draco had done what was asked of him, a frown drawn on his face his entire way down the spiral steps. He knew his uncle Sev always knew the best way to go about things, he was intelligent and observant like all good Slytherins should be. Draco trusted him, of course, but that didn’t stop the boy from being curious.

He wondered if Severus didn’t want Harry to meet Dobby because he was a house-elf, and Harry did all of the things a house-elf did. He nearly tripped down the last three stairs as a horrible thought occurred to him, his feet not sure whether to keep going or to stop and settling somewhere in between.

When he got to the kitchen he had nearly forgotten what it was he was doing, so caught up in his thoughts. He smiled when he saw the platter of cookies on the counter, and had to stand on his tiptoes to reach one. He bit into it, pleased when he found it was his favourite: oatmeal raisin chocolate chip. He grabbed a second one, for Harry, when he remembered.

“Dobby!” He called, and the little elf popped! into the space before him, a large grin between his large ears. “Yes, master Draco?” “Uncle Sev needs you to make two peanut butter and jellies for Harry, please. Oh! And a glass of milk, he said.” Draco shoved the rest of the cookie in his mouth, stretching to snatch another one.

“Yes, master Draco, of course! Dobby will be right back, sir!” Draco giggled quietly. He still thought it was weird that the elves called him ‘master’ and ‘sir’ so much when he wasn’t even school aged yet. As promised, Dobby reappeared as instantly as before, balancing a large plate with both hands. “Would master Draco like Dobby to bring this someplace?” Draco shook his head and, swallowing the last bite of his cookie, stiffened his shoulders and spread out his arms. “Uncle Sev wants me to do it.”

He started thinking about why he needed to do all the hard work, a bit of milk dripping out as he stumbled up a step, quickly catching himself. He thought the terrible thought again as he neared his own room, everything he knew and loved about Severus temporarily leaving as he heard him ask Harry about rules. In his shock, Draco tripped on the last step, the tray flinging to the floor, milk and shards of glass scattering over the tile.

Severus rushed out the bedroom, lifting Draco under the arms to his feet and sighing at the now melted and crumby mess of cookie splattered over his robes. Draco was too lost to answer whether he was okay or not and what happened, cutting Severus off with a question of his own. One that had been plaguing his mind nearly the entire time he was downstairs.

“Uncle Sev? Are you going to make Harry be your house-elf?”

The cup Severus had been working back together fell to the floor again, “What?” Draco didn’t want to say it again, didn’t want to upset Harry if he heard. “Is that why you didn’t want him to see Dobby? Because you're going to make Harry your house-elf and you don’t want him to know it’s already a job?”

Severus stared incredulously at Draco, dark eyes wide in disbelief. “Merlin no, Draco! Where would you ever get an idea like that?” Draco let out a large breath, his shoulders lowering to a more relaxed position. “Oh. That’s good. I didn’t really think you were but-” “Draco, what made you think that?” “Huh? Oh, just the way Harry was talking. About all of his chores and stuff. Everything is house-elf work. I thought maybe that was something like the uhm… the ‘great good’?”

Draco shrugged and started rubbing fiercely at his robes. “Dobby!” He called, then immediately clapped his hands over his mouth. He looked up at Severus as the elf popped! into place, then dropped his hands, a new thought coming to him. “Uncle Sev? How come Harry can’t meet Dobby then?”

Severus sighed and banished the mess on the floor, “Because, Dragon. Harry is very overwhelmed at the moment, he has been through a lot, and he is scared. I don’t want to frighten him anymore than he already is by showing him a creature he’s never seen before.” Draco’s mouth formed a small “oh” shape and then he turned to Dobby, who had been impatiently wringing his ears, and asked him for more sandwiches and cookies.

These strange peoples’ interest in his life was starting to confuse Harry. Last year, his teacher had thought something was ‘special’ about how his aunt and uncle treated him, too. She had kept him back from recess one day, which Harry was secretly thankful for, as it meant one-day less of Harry Hunting, and took him to the school nurse. Harry had thought the entire experience was strange. He didn’t understand why they kept asking him about how much he ate or how much the Dursleys’ yelled at him. In the end, the nurse had given him a large, red lollipop and sent him back to class.

Harry wished he could have a lollipop now too, because from what he remembered it had tasted good (really, really good!) and made him almost forget about how uncomfortable he felt.

He didn’t feel so uncomfortable this time, just confused. Everything was confusing him. The strange boy and his strange clothes, his strange room that they had strangely teleported to and all of his strange toys inside. The strange man in his even stranger cape and the strange way he seemed to be upset by what Harry said. Then there were the strange words they said, things like ‘great good’ and ‘house-elf’ and how before, by the tree, the boy had acted so strangely when Harry had said he was Harry. It was all awfully confusing.

When Draco and the strange man reentered the room carrying a plate of sandwiches and cookies, Harry had stared in awe, his mouth watering just a little. He quickly shook his head, clearing his head to remind himself that, even if they were very strange people, they wouldn’t bring him food. Especially not after he had just told the man that he had stolen!

But then the boy went and sat next to Harry on the floor, crossing his legs and sweeping his arm over the table to clear the toys. The dark man crouched to place the tray on the table and Draco took a sandwich, bite halfway to his mouth when he paused, “You can have one too, Harry.”

Harry looked at him. Had he heard him correctly? No, he must not have. Take a sandwich? No. He shook his head again. It was, what did aunt Petunia call it? Wishful thinking. “The sandwiches are for you, Harry. It’s alright, take one.” He looked up from the plate to the man, thinking this was all part of the dreams he had of being rescued. .

Sighing, the man stepped forward and crouched, picking up a triangle part of the sandwich and holding it out to Harry. “We’ve had them made for you. You can have one. Or two, or as many as you’d like.” His voice was low and calm, so far from the shrill shriek of Petunia or the echoing bellows of Vernon, and it made Harry want to listen to it.

With a shaking hand, he reached out and took the half of sandwich, cradling it close to his chest for more than a minute before slowly bringing it up to his mouth. Harry flinched when he took the bite, next to him Draco cheering happily. “Oh! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” His icy eyes flew from Harry to the tall man and Harry looked at him too.

He really was a tall man, he thought. At the moment, he was crouched down to be closer to Harry’s own height, but still he seemed to cast shadows over him. As Harry finally took his second bite, stomach aching from both hunger and the thought of eating, he wondered if the man had stolen his clothes from that superhero in Dudley’s comics.

Harry smiled to himself, the idea amusing him. If Batman had found him, would he really be in so much trouble?

Severus’ hand was twitching in his pocket at this point, the summoning spell for a vial of even the lowest dose of a pain reliever on his tongue. He was already planning the content of several letters he wished to write  Dumbledore, the most important one being his resignation. The second telling the meddling old man he could deal with his issues on his own, Severus had had enough of the ‘fun little quests’.

Of course, he already knew what would be the man’s response. His concerns would all be pushed aside, buried six feet under the guilt the headmaster would never let him forget he had. As if he could forget it. Severus woke up to the storm of his regret, the impactful actions he made as an idiotic boy fueled by purely pain. If only he had known about the path of pain he would forge and cement himself to.

He sighed. The impossibly tiny boy before him was only more concrete evidence of the years before, and the image of him pained Severus more than he would like to admit, even to himself. Large green eyes met his and Severus had to turn away, unable to face the same eyes she once had. He couldn’t bring himself to see what laid behind those gold flecked emeralds, his own mental image of the innocent boy’s abuse sobering him from his sorrow.

Whether or not he wanted it to be, Potter’s responsibility was in his hands now, at least some part of it. It was out of the question to even think about sending the boy back to his relatives, not that they seemed to deserve the label. For a moment, Severus thought of talking to Albus, only to harshly remember the list of the witches from family services that had been sent to retrieve the boy the first four times. Albus already knew everything there was to know, there was nothing that got past the man. Especially if it concerned his young savior.

Severus almost wanted to laugh. If only the wizarding world could see their little savior now, his bones near visible through his sickly pale skin, curled up in a bedroom of Malfoy Manor, hardly able to finish half of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

Staring at Potter again, Severus knew he should be trying to concentrate on what his next steps should be. The issue was that he didn’t know where to start. He supposed more evidence of the abuse would need to be collected sooner rather than later, but overwhelming the boy even more with uncomfortable questions wouldn’t make anyones’ day better. Instead, he turned his eyes to Draco.

The boy was still sitting next to Harry, his legs, which usually seemed so short, looked much longer compared to Potter. They were talking quietly to each other, and Severus was pleased to watch as Draco broke a cookie in half to share with him. He figured that would prove beneficial in the future, the way the children took so easily to one another.

But looking at his godson brought back more questions Severus needed answers to. Like what in Salazar’s sake would ever make Draco think he would turn a little boy into his own personal slave?  And how much of his conversation with Albus had the boy overheard, speaking about Dumbledore’s greater good like he had?

Severus watched as Draco made the phoenix figurine glow red, harmless flames covering its body and watched Potter’s amazement as it happened. His hand snaked toward it, shaking and hesitant. At Draco’s smile and nod he took it within his own hands, palms cradling the plastic as if it were an injured pet. Severus watched as tiny, bony fingers ghosted over the spot on the toy’s back, Potter’s head flying back in fear while his eyes lit up, spellbound at the simple magic embedded in the toy. And as he watched the first smile he’d seen on the boy to start to form, he wondered what exorbitantly high demands Albus could have planned for Potter that would justify leaving him with those Muggles.

It had taken a bit of persuading on Draco’s part, but eventually Harry had finished his triangle of sandwich and an entire cookie (half of a chocolate chip oatmeal raisin, which Harry agreed was very good, and half of a gingerbread cookie. Harry said he liked that one too, but Draco figured he must’ve just been being polite because even he didn’t like those ones.) And then they played for a while.

It had been nice for Draco, to finally be able to have someone play as the army he was fighting, and not him dividing his time between the good guys and the bad guys. He liked playing with other kids, but never really got to. He and Teddy were friends, he thought, but they only saw each other when their fathers were meeting. The same went for Blaise, but Draco didn’t like him as much.

He liked Harry, though. Harry was nice and polite, even if he was more shy than Draco could ever remember being. He figured that had to do with how he grew up like one of the Malfoy’s house-elves. Really, Draco just hoped that Harry liked him, too. He wanted to be able to play with him again, he had already found a way for the knight to get past the dark wizard, and Draco hadn’t been able to do that ever.

He also wanted to show Harry more of his things. Not because he wanted to show off or anything, that’s what Blaise did and Draco was never very happy about that. But he wanted to show Harry more things about magic. Like his bath that made a layer of thick colourful bubbles over the water, or his favourite robe that wrapped itself around him and had a heating charm inside, and to share his stash of sweets with him and watch Harry’s face when he would get one of the really gross Bertie Bott’s beans- or even play quidditch together!

He figured that, even if Harry didn’t like him much, Draco had to be doing better than mean cousin Harry told him about. While they rescued thunderbirds and thestrals from the swooping evils and lethifolds, Draco and Harry filled the silence by questioning each other. Draco had wanted to know all about growing up with muggles, which he had to define for Harry, and then had to explain what being a wizard was, too.

Draco had laughed when Harry asked about that. He was a wizard, how could he not know magic even existed? But he told Harry anyway, about magic and Hogwarts, and about his uncle Severus who was the potion master there. Harry seemed to want to ask more, so when he didn’t Draco just kept talking. About quidditch and transfiguration and even the Ministry of Magic where his father worked.

After a while. Harry had frowned and shook his head. “How do you- How do you know I’m a w-wizard?” Draco didn’t know how to answer that at first, and frowned too. He didn’t want to say ‘you just do’, mum said he was supposed to give reasons. He blew a puff air into the air as he thought.

“Well, my mum and dad both are purebloods- that means their whole families are magic. So I think they all just assumed I was a wizard, too.” “Oh. What about me?” “Uhm, well I think both your mum and dad were magic. Haven’t you ever done anything magical?” Harry shook his head, “I dunno. I thought we weren’t ‘llowed to do magic, though?”

Draco turned to face Harry better again, eager to teach the smaller boy. “No, well, students aren’t allowed magic when they’re not seventeen. But kids do accidental magic all the time. Like one time,” He blushed, laughing lightly at the memory, “I was really upset about something, and all the plates and bowls in the kitchen exploded!”

Harry stared with wide eyes. “Wh-what happened?” Draco shrugged, “Nothing. Dad was upset, I think, but he just fixed it all.” “Oh.” Harry started chewing on his lip again. “What’s wrong?” Draco asked.

“I- I think I have done s’mething like that before.” At Draco's expectant look Harry continued, “The first time I ran’way, I did that thing like we did here. I was in my cupboard and really scared and then I was in the park! And then, a few weeks ago, aunt P’tunia didn’t like my hair, so she cut it all off. But she left this part to hide my scar. And then the next morning it was all back again!”

“See, Harry! You are a wizard!” Draco grinned at the smaller boy.

All the talk of magic was overwhelming. The magical toys that were able to actually fly (and not like Dudley’s remote controlled airplanes, proper flying!), the posters that moved like videos, the way Draco’s plush dragon would roar and hug Harry back. He wondered if maybe uncle Vernon had hit his head too hard and, like Alice, he was dreaming of this strange new world. Harry decided he’d be very upset if this was all a dream.

Even while his stomach seemed to bubble with unease, Harry felt happy. Maybe even happier than he had ever remembered feeling. He found himself enjoying playing with Draco and his magical toys (which Harry was equally fond and fearful of) and inspired by all of the things he was learning about. It made him feel special, the way Draco explained things. Like Harry was part of something bigger than he was, a whole world that only special people could know about. And he was one of them!

He was still confused about why he was so special though, why Draco thought he was famous and even more powerful than any of the other wizards. But Harry didn’t have much time to think about that. There was so much more to do, to learn, to play!

Draco had rummaged through one of the drawers and came back holding a small box. “Uncle Sev, will you play with us?” Draco asked, already pulling out the blue sack from inside and untying it. Batman, as Harry had decided on calling him, looked like he was going to decline the request, a frown etching its way over his mouth. But just as he started to speak he stopped, standing just as suddenly.

“Mum’s home!” Draco cheered as he, too, jumped to his feet. And before either Harry or Batman could say anything, Draco was rushing down the stairs, Harry’s hand in his own. Draco came to the landing with a harsh stop, the soles of his boots squeaking on the tile rather than sliding like socks. Harry gasped as he fell into the other boy, causing both of them to fall forward.

“I’m sorry!” Harry cried, not even all the way off of Draco’s back yet. He stood quickly, staring with wide, teary, green eyes. What had he done? He’d ruined it all now, Draco was going to hate him! And Batman would too, and Draco’s mum! Oh, what would she think? She’d never even met Harry before and he’d gone and fell on top of her son! Oh, he was so stupid! What would they do to him? And with magic, too! It would most definitely be worse than anything his uncle could do.

Harry sniffed and lowered his head to the tiles, arms crossed over his belly as he remembered his rules for punishments. Don’t make any eye-contact. Don’t make any noises. Don’t move at all. He was very bad at the last one, his arms always moved to cover himself even when he tried to hold them in place. Oh, he hoped that the rules were the same here. Did wizards have different rules? Would he be punished for not following them, even though he hadn’t been told them yet?

Somewhere behind his thoughts he heard Draco giggle and glanced up through his eyelashes. Batman didn’t look upset as he helped Draco stand up, and Draco was still smiling. Was he that excited for Harry’s punishment? Had he been planning it this whole time?

Harry sniffed again, drawing the attention to himself. He held himself tighter and tried to quiet his fear.

“Harry? What’s wrong? Did you get hurt?” Draco took a step closer to him, hand reaching towards him. Harry flinched back, he wanted to hit himself for that. Don’t move. Uncle Vernon always turned purple when he moved.

“Harry?” Harry closed his eyes, he didn’t want to see Batman when he was angry. It was bad enough, maybe even worse, that he had to hear him. He didn’t want his memories of the soothing voice to be like this. But he’d ruined it all. Stupid, clumsy feet.

Batman kneeled in front of Harry, and lowered his voice, making it softer when he spoke. “Did you hurt yourself?” Harry shook his head tightly. “No sir.” “No? Are you worried you hurt Draco?” Harry nodded after a moment, his voice hardly audible to his own ears. “Yes’ir.” “But it’s okay, Harry! See, I’m fine!” Draco jumped up and down a few times to prove his point.

That made Harry feel a little better, but he still had pushed him down. And falled on him! At Harry’s whimper Batman spoke again. “You’re not in any trouble, Harry. It was only an accident. It wasn’t your fault.” Harry looked up a little, his eyes still wet. It made everything bleary, even with the help of his glasses (although his glasses didn’t really help).

“You haven’t done anything wrong. You’re not in any trouble, Harry.” “‘m not going to be punished?” Batman tilted Harry’s head up with a finger. “No, I promise you.” “But what about Draco’s mum-” “Harry,” Batman “I promise you won’t be punished.” Harry wanted to tell Batman that even if he promised, he was wrong. Harry always managed to ruin everything and do something wrong, and he always needed to be punished for something. But the way that Batman was looking at him made him want to trust him and his nice voice.

“Okay, sir.” He nodded. Draco stepped around Batman as he stood up, reaching Harry and startling him by wrapping his arms around the smaller boy. “I’m sorry I scared you, Harry.” Harry froze, unsure of how to respond to the apology or the hug at first. He hadn’t ever had a hug before, at least not one that wasn’t from a toy. But he thought he liked the way Draco was holding him, the way his heart made him feel almost sick, but in a good way. He hugged Draco back, smiling. “It’s okay Draco.”

Harry had almost forgotten the reason Draco had pulled him down the stairs when he heard the sound of a door opening nearby. Draco rushed through an arched doorway and to where Harry assumed to the front entrance must be, as he didn’t come through it. “Hi Mum!” “Oh! Draco, dear, hello. What are you doing home, love, shouldn’t you be with Severus still?”

“I am with uncle Sev! He’s in there with Harry. OH! You have to come meet Harry, mum!” “Harry?” Draco reentered the room with a smile tearing across his face, his hand outstretched behind him. Harry sucked his lip between his teeth, chewing it nervously as he watched the tall women gasp at the sight of him.

Severus was more than grateful when Narcissa had poured the two glasses of firewhisky, downing it in a single swallow. At least he had someone sensible to share the events of his day to, not one of his idiotic coworkers or, Merlin help him, Albus. She had been just as shocked as he was when she laid eyes on Potter, not to mention the added surprise of the boy being in her home.

Narcissa had gasped when she saw the small boy next to Severus, seeming even smaller as he was cowering next to him. Draco had urged her forward until she stood only a few feet from Potter, and stood between them like a mediator. “Mum, this is Harry. He’s my best friend. Harry, this is my mum, she’s really nice!”

Severus had wanted to laugh at the introduction, mostly Narcissa’s unmasked expression. She glanced to him, questions swimming in her eyes, before looking back down at the boy. She crouched down, extending a hand and a smile to him. “Hello, Harry.” The boy stared at her with his large eyes for a moment before letting his bottom lip free and reaching out timidly to shake her hand. “Hullo, Mrs.Draco’s mum.”

Narcissa had laughed at that and was going to reply when Draco did instead. “Mum, do you want to play gobstones with me and Harry and uncle Sev? Please?” Severus cleared his throat, “Actually, Dragon, there are a few things I’d like to talk to your mother about first. Why don’t you take Harry and go show him your chocolate frog cards while you wait?” He added at the boy’s dejected look.

Draco smiled at the idea and, once again, took Harry by the hand to his bedroom. The action was almost comical. Almost, if not for the way Potter flinched at that first contact and the way Draco, only a few months older, could wrap his entire hand around the boy’s wrist.

Narcissa had waited until she knew the boys had reached the bedroom before turning to Severus. “Well, I see you’ve had an exciting day, Severus.” He snorted in return, walking into the seating room. “If only you knew.”

It took over two hours to explain all that had happened in such a short amount of time. From the moment Dumbledore had stepped foot in his rooms to the moment Narcissa walked through the door, Severus had felt as if he had been wading through a swamp while everything was flying past him. How much could happen in a single day, less than?

He hadn’t been able to reflect on it at all since it happened. Not the things Figg had described for him nor the way a passerby across the road could see Potter’s bones and how he flinched at everything, not how Draco had apparetted himself and Harry tens of miles away and managed to keep them both in a one piece, or any of the horrifying things he had seen at the Dursley residence.

Narcissa’s reactions to it all made his own seem more justified, and while she listened with a horrified expression, Severus realized just how bad it was. Narcissa had stood up silently when he finished relaying what happened just before she arrived, opening the locked cabinet that held the liquor and glasses. She didn’t say anything until she had poured both her and Severus a second drink.

“What are we going to do, Severus?” She shook her head, nursing her whiskey. “We can’t bring him back to those muggles, and you know as well as I do that exactly that would be Dumbledore’s only thought.” Severus hummed, his thoughts much the same. “For the Greater Good.” He snorted, knowing exactly what Albus would say. That the boy couldn’t leave the protection of his relatives, that it wouldn’t hurt him to have a firm hand. Severus scoffed, downing the rest of his drink.

“We’ll give him to someone from the Order.” He suggested, shrugging a shoulder. “The Weasley’s, perhaps.” It was Narcissa who scoffed then, “They can hardly feed the children they have already. They’re up to seven now, I believe.” Severus raised a dark brow in response, before rolling his eyes. “Four more of them to teach. Wonderful.”

Before Narcissa could reply, the familiar buzzing of the wards vibrated down Severus’ spine. He shivered, he much preferred his own system. Narcissa gave a weary smile, “Let us hope my husband can come up with a decent plan.”

Severus could only hope Lucius’ work in politics would give aid to their situation.