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?

.

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.