~~~~HP~~~~

Saturday 3rd, May 1997

Last month's chemotherapy treatment two weeks ago hit Harry harder than usual and it had taken him until the following Monday - three very long days later - to start feeling stronger and able to continue his trips outside to the back garden. He was now nestled right in between treatment months, and while his daily tablet still messed with him from time to time, overall he was able to stay focused on getting the bloody hell out of there.

It was approaching midnight and the young wizard had only just gotten out of the shower. Being that it was a ritual night, there was no rush to get to bed and he found he could relax in the lavatory much easier late at night when he wasn't constantly worrying about someone entering the bedroom unannounced. The one piece of imprisonment in the Manor that he actually liked was the lavatory, and therefore getting to just relax in it was always a good way to end his day. Back at Privet Drive, the lavatory he shared with Dudley was so small, he always wondered how his cousin - especially back in his largest days - could even move within it. The whole room barely fit the loo, tub with a shower, and a small sink with hardly any space between them. Combined with its white laminate tiles, white and pink floral wallpaper, it was an awful combination of being too sterile and too gaudy. Living at Hogwarts - when he wasn't in the dungeons with Snape - he shared a much larger lavatory, but it was with all the boys in the Gryffindor tower making it inconvenient and uncomfortable at times to use. The best scenario, at least until coming to Malfoy Manor, was back home in the dungeons of Hogwarts. The lavatory there wasn't much larger than the one at Privet Drive, but he had it all to himself with a door that even connected it to his bedroom. The style matched the rest of Snape's quarters - which Harry had found he also really liked, specifically after living with McGonagall for that short time - with grey painted stone walls and a natural stone floor.

The lavatory at Malfoy Manor was bigger than his bedroom back at Privet Drive, and while he shared the space with Draco, they'd settled into an unofficial schedule between the two of them for getting ready each morning and night, as well as showering, that was only really interrupted during his monthly chemotherapy treatments or if he was having a random bad reaction to his chemo tablets one day. Similar to the guest bedroom it was attached to, the lavatory had a celestial theme with small silver and gold stars embedded randomly into the smooth marble on the floor leading straight towards the clawfoot tub along the far wall. The walls were silver with white moulding all around giving it a royal feel that he laughed at the first time he walked in; the idea that a room used for cleaning oneself could be so lavish. There was a large window allowing plenty of natural light and was one of the features he found he loved the most about this room. The privacy combined with the elements of the outdoors together calmed his fraying nerves, especially when he first arrived at the manor. Although every time he walked into that lavatory, the clawfoot tub looked inviting, Harry always opted for a shower. He suspected that Draco - who was starting to embrace this imprisonment a little too much - was about 50/50 on his use of the shower compared to the bathtub, and the only reason Harry knew that was because the door to the lavatory was right in front of his bed and he could hear either the tub or shower running. After living in their current situation for so long, he found he needed some way to keep his mind busy besides sketching and devising a plan to escape, and the amount of preening Draco required was enough sometimes.

Harry wrapped a plush navy towel around his waist, feeling the same warmth coming from it as he did on almost all the linens in Manor besides the bed sheets and covers. Every time he felt the familiar warmth, he wondered if that was something they had purchased this way or if Narcissa - or quite possibly a house elf - placed all the charms on them herself after she brought them home. Living in and running a wizarding household was something that Harry tried not to think about, otherwise he would get too overwhelmed. Hogwarts did an excellent job at teaching them the skills they would need for any future career, but completely missed on how to run a wizarding household. How were muggleborns, like Hermione, or even half-bloods who lived in the muggle world, like himself, supposed to learn how to live in a fully magical home? He'd been to the Burrow enough times to know that there had to be a set of domestic spells and charms that could be used to do basic things around the house, but without an adult wizard to teach them, where were they expected to learn? And what about grocery shopping, cooking without modern muggle appliances, and even things like charming towels and rugs to stay warm? Did the latter fall under Mr Weasley's department at the Ministry and it shouldn't be done? Was this something that Snape had been teaching him back in his old reality before the cancer diagnosis? That last question caught him off guard as it was the first time he'd thought of the old reality - of technically his old life - living as Snape's son. Maybe once they were out of here and the soul fragment removed, the professor could walk him through all these major gaps in their magical living education.

Harry was so distracted, it wasn't until he was back at the sink brushing his teeth that he noticed it. Throughout the last ten months, he'd gotten so used to ignoring the mirrors in front of him, hating the pallid, gaunt expression looking back at him, that he rarely noticed himself turning away or automatically averting his eyes from it. The mirror in this lavatory matched the rest of the room with its golden extravagant wooden frame adorned with silver and navy stars. It was large enough for him to see from the top of his head to his waistline, also drawing unwanted attention to his skeletal frame. He'd been eating better overall during Maintenance, however some days he still had no appetite and others he found himself suddenly nauseous and therefore he wasn't gaining the weight back nearly as quickly as he had hoped. Tonight, though, he randomly looked up after spitting out his toothpaste and taking a sip of water from his goblet at the sink to rinse his mouth and almost choked, simultaneously dropping the cup with a loud clang across the lavatory. Immediately, coughing to clear his airway, his eyes widened as they were sure the mirror was playing some cruel trick on him. All around his head, where he'd gotten so used to seeing nothing but skin, was now covered in a very small amount of dark raven black hair. He reached his hand up and touched the mirror to make sure his mirror image moved alongside his actual body, before reaching up and touching his head. It was real. The one piece of himself that gave away his disease was going away. Dr Swanson had mentioned that his hair would probably come back during Maintenance - as well as it having a chance of falling out again in the future, depending on how his body reacted - but he had never allowed himself to get excited about the possibility, knowing that the disappointment if it hadn't returned would be too great.

Completely lost in the new feeling of the wiry fuzz beneath his fingers, the Gryffindor missed the several hard knocks on the heavy lavatory door and Draco calling out if he was alright. Suddenly the door opened and the blonde was standing before him with a worried expression across his face that quickly turned to anger, and finally landed on a combination of horror and embarrassment.

"What the bloody hell, Potter!" The Slytherin called out, turning immediately to give Harry privacy. "You could have answered me when I was asking if you were alright in here!"

"Sorry," Harry said, tightening the towel around his waist and quickly putting on his black pyjama shirt. "I didn't hear you!"

It had been weeks since they'd had an accidental run in sharing a lavatory and Harry thought it odd that the house didn't have any actual locks on the doors.

Of course, in a wizarding household you can just use magic to open any muggle lock.

"I gave you plenty of warning before walking in," Draco said with as much dignity as someone who barged in on his roommate in the lavatory could.

"Were you worried about me, Draco?" Harry jested, causing a hard hmph from the other wizard. "I'm dressed now, by the way."

Draco turned around with arms crossed over this chest, looking over at Harry without any sense of humor in his face. "What was I supposed to think when I heard something fall and some sort of choking in here? Do you have any idea of what would happen to me if my collection crew came in tonight and saw the The Chosen One dead on the floor?"

Before Harry could ask another question - like why the Slytherin was so upset over the whole situation - he left, leaving Harry standing in the lavatory alone. Giving one more careful swipe of his hand across his patchy hair, he followed his roommate out back into the bedroom. Draco had managed to make his way back to his bed in the short amount of time it took Harry to exit the lavatory behind him. The atmosphere in the room was cold and Draco's body language was distant.

"Want to tell me what's going on?" The Gryffindor asked, making his way to his own bed, choosing to sit cross-legged sideways as opposed to laying flat.

At first, Draco didn't say anything and Harry got the impression that the other wizard was embarrassed about something. "I've seen you checking things out as we're walking through the corridors to the gardens…" the blonde eventually said, "have you heard about the Tunnels?"

Harry furrowed his brows trying to figure out how his mapping out the Manor and these 'Tunnels' were related to the reaction in the lavatory. Not being able to come to his own conclusions, he shook his head, needing Draco to fill in some more of the details.

"Obviously, we know ghosts exist," Draco started and then shook his own head unsure if this was the right place to start, "I mean, we have them at Hogwarts, but it's not like the castle is haunted, right?"

"I never really thought about it," Harry replied. He had been a little scared the first time he met the resident ghosts when he'd arrived at school, but now it was so normal that they were practically real people. But based on the way Draco was talking, he would think Malfoy heir was saying- "Is the Manor haunted?"

"That's what generations have said, and I thought… I mean I've heard myself-" The grey eyes from the wizard across from him shifted back and forth and he sat up in his own silver bed mirroring Harry's cross-legged position. "So the Manor has this set of underground tunnels. It's well known as part of the Malfoys' history. I should back up, did you know we're known for our work in the Apothecary industry?"

Harry had heard that from Narcissa on his first night in the Manor, but again, wasn't sure exactly how it all related. Deciding it didn't matter if he told the truth, the Gryffindor replied, "Your mum mentioned it back on the first day when you… were healed much faster than Healer Walker expected."

"Yeah," Draco smirked, "we have access to all sorts of experimental and extra-strength potions. In fact, my father originally wanted Severus to work for one of the research companies. He'd be bloody good at it too."

Harry didn't doubt that and he actually thought the professor would be much happier working on the bench developing brand new potions or new formulas of current ones. So long as they were all legal, of course, because after all his animosity towards the man, he could admit that Snape did have a conscience and understood how much damage he could cause.

"Anyways," Draco continued, "the apothecary business was started right around the time of the Muggle Plague and as we all know from Binns' class-" he rolled his eyes causing Harry to smirk, "-wizards had a similar plague at the same time. As natural born Slytherins, the Malfoys took the opportunity to promote their business-"

"So they tried to profit from people's deaths." Harry incredulously interrupted, but it was phrased as a statement, not a question. "That's horrible!"

"How is that any different than the muggle pharmaceutical companies profiting from your cancer treatments?" The blonde logically asked, "someone has to get paid for the time and money that goes into the research and development of new potions, not to mention the production."

Now that he mentioned it, who was paying for his chemotherapy? Harry had no idea if the wizarding world had a healthcare system like Britain, but he did have a vague idea how the muggle system worked. What he wasn't sure on was if all of his - guaranteed to be expensive - chemotherapy medication was covered by it or not. To complicate matters, he had not approved any funds to transfer from his vault into muggle money, so who was taking care of all of it. If it wasn't covered by the healthcare system, he had a feeling it had been Snape this whole time, and suddenly Harry wanted to find the man to ask him. The whole system though still seemed wrong to the Gryffindor, but he wasn't about to concede to that fact nor was he prepared to argue it. The idea that the Malfoys made their billions - a guess that Harry assumed was pretty close - by starting out targeting the wizarding plague victims was nauseating.

"May I continue?"

"Go ahead," Harry eventually said, too hooked on hearing about the tunnels and supposed haunting to stop the story.

"As I was saying," Draco dramatically continued, "as the story goes, the Malfoy Apothecary volunteered to be the leading potioneer source to try to combat the plague, which was taking over faster than they could keep Potion Masters alive. The Manor was offered as a place to house any of the ill patients willing to undergo the experimental treatment. Over the course of the plague, there ended up being hundreds of volunteers willing to try the new potions. It was anywhere from individuals to entire families staying right in these rooms, all of them willing to do whatever it took to survive, and some of them even bettering their situation because they now had a roof over their head and access to general potions they couldn't otherwise afford. As you can imagine, with the epidemic being so highly reported, the Malfoys of that time were extremely careful of any negative publicity for their involvement, which was easily controlled from the Manor."

Harry wanted to interrupt, knowing exactly where this was headed and not liking it one bit. He wanted to yell and scream at the Malfoys for whatever they did to think they'd made the Manor haunted.

"At first the potion trials were extremely deadly and the death rate was exorbitantly high," Draco continued almost like none of this bothered him in the slightest. He'd likely heard the story so many times it had lost its effect. "Quickly realizing that they couldn't transport their failed experiments out the front door, they ingeniously created a series of tunnels running from the infirmary, under the manor and grounds, eventually leading to a small side farm that, at the time, was located at the very edge of the property line."

"Let me guess," Harry interjected both disgusted with the story and intrigued with the idea of hidden tunnels beneath the Manor, "without any proof of the deaths they caused, business took off."

"They eventually got it right!" As expected, the Malfoy heir immediately took offense. "It only took a few months of tweaking and the investments they received during the time it was failing helped them perfect it and essentially cured - not to mention prevent - the plague."

It was semantics and Harry vehemently disagreed with him on it and had to use every fiber of his body to resist arguing against the Slytherin. His family knew people were dying from the potion and they hid the evidence as a way to continue to get funding. Did the end justify the means? He didn't think so, but he was sure all the people cured afterwards would have a different opinion.

"So what happened to the tunnels?" Harry asked, quietly. "And the… bodies?"

"Well," the other wizard started, "since the tunnels were no longer necessary, they were discreetly cleaned up of any evidence from being a temporary morgue. Eventually, the next generation or two converted the front portion into our luxury wine cellars, while the other portion sits abandoned."

"And, the bodies?" Harry reminded his roommate of the part of his question that hadn't been answered.

For this, Draco's voice lowered into an ominous tone that instantly put the Gryffindor on edge, "How the bodies were ultimately disposed of is still a mystery. There are rumors passed down from generation to generation, each a little more sadistic than the last. I was told that they were buried out in the farm's field which is why the crops refuse to grow each year."

From the window in their bedroom, Harry could see the outline of a small farm to the South East of the gardens. He assumed it had nothing to do with the Malfoy family, which was the reason for the fence surrounding their property and the farm being on the other side of it. If the tunnels were still connected to the farm, that could be a way to escape, but if the farm was still on Malfoy Manor property, the wards would likely extend to it.

Before he could get to the logistics of the tunnel, Harry had to know how all of this related to the incident in the lavatory, "So you're trying to tell me the Manor's haunted with the ghosts of the patients that died?"

"Technically no," Draco responded and for a split second Harry's heart had calmed down a bit, "it's just… one family."

That wasn't any better.

"The buttery downstairs was the makeshift infirmary for the Malfoy hospital," the Slytherin continued in the same low tone. "You see, it's never been a secret that cries of anguish and pain can be heard there late at night. Over time, there have been so many different stories passed down through the Malfoy generations about the people who've been killed and talk of various things going on at the farm, but the one that's always been told is about the Caprine Family.

"They were one of the poorer families that agreed to the experimental potions early on and from what I heard, they'd be better off dying from the plague than the side effects they suffered from the potions themselves-"

Harry's breathing immediately picked up. He knew exactly what it was like to experience horrific side effects from the medications that were supposed to be curing him from a deadly disease. Healer Smithe and Dr Swanson had always been honest about the side effects he'd experienced and yes, there had been times he thought he was dying from them - and he could have died, still can now that he thought about, from the infection caused by his low blood counts - but he never really considered how dangerous the medications were compared to Leukemia. Never was not treating it an option and therefore, what would have happened if he'd found out he was dying from the substance that was supposed to save his life? It hit him far too close to home.

"- it was a family of three," Draco was still going through the story, oblivious to Harry's small panic attack on the other bed, "and occasionally they come back to… you could say… visit. The mother's rarely seen, but she can be heard late at night when she roams the corridors, and the sounds of her sharp nails scratching on the walls echo throughout the corridors. Honestly, I'm surprised you haven't heard it yet."

Audibly gulping, Harry shook his head. Given how little sleep he'd been getting, if this were true - and it was enough to scare the blonde earlier tonight - he would have heard it.

"What I was worried about with you tonight," Draco narrowed his eyes and leaned over towards Harry's bed, resting his arms on his knees, "was that the reflection of their young son is often found in lavatory mirrors. I've seen him myself sometimes, wandering in and out from mirror to mirror like the portraits at school.

"It's the father you have to worry about though. He's rarely spotted, but if he does come out, it's usually with his son. He likes to stand near the doorways and the legend says that if someone walks near the doorway, he drags them through it and they're never seen again."

At this point, Harry's eyes were wide open as he thought about the history and the tale he'd just been told. The whole thing was depressing and horrifying at the same time. The seconds ticked by and Harry expected more from the story, but it seemed like that was it.

"You're having me on, right?" The Gryffindor eventually asked with a shaking voice.

At first, the other wizard said nothing, just narrowed his grey eyes, then slowly smiled and exclaimed, "Of course I am! And you should have seen the look of terror on your face!"

Without thinking twice, Harry lifted one of his plush navy pillows and threw it as hard as he could at the Slytherin across from him, managing to hit the teen in the head. His blonde hair was sprayed across his face while he continued to laugh at Harry's expense.

"I heard..." he managed to say through his hard laughter, "something hit the ground and then you started choking or coughing, and wanted to make sure you didn't fall or something completely daft like that. What I didn't expect was to see your skinny arse in a towel! So, I planned a little payback."

"You're a total git, you know that right?"

"Eh," the blonde pulled his legs up onto the bed and rested himself back down, "I get that a lot."

What Harry really wanted to know, but now wasn't sure if it would give away too much of his plan, was if the tunnels were real. There was a good chance - better than not actually - that he'd made the whole thing up. Of course, it wasn't any secret that the Malfoys had created their fortune in the Apothecary business, so maybe only the haunting part was fabricated.

"Is any of it true?" He ventured in asking.

"Absolutely," Draco nodded his head firmly. "All of it actually, besides the whole nail scratching, mirror jumping, doorway stealing family. Everything from the experiments, to the tunnels, and even the farm crops are true."

"That's horrible," Harry replied.

"Nothing I can do about it now," he sounded sad in his statement. "I can't change the Malfoys' history, but if I make it out of here alive, maybe I'll be able to change the future perception of us."

Not wanting to take away from the fundamental moment, Harry waited a solid minute in silence before asking, "What about the farm? Do the Malfoys still own it?"

Thinking hard about the question first, Draco answered, "Technically yes, but I believe they rent it - for free - to some of the people who were affected by the potions experiments. Like I said though, they haven't been able to produce any crops on it since the Tunnels were made."

If the Tunnels had been converted and the farm was no longer technically part of the Malfoy property, it was entirely possible - even probable - that they wouldn't be warded like the rest of the Manor and the grounds. He had no idea how to utilize this information or how to determine if the Tunnels were accessible from elsewhere in the Manor, but it would give something else to start working through in his notes. This, the prank from the Malfoy heir, could be their ticket to freedom.

By now, they only had about half an hour until the 'collection crew' came for Draco - Avery and Goyle if Harry's schedule was correct - and an uncomfortable silence fell between the two teens. Harry was lost in the next steps to their escape plan and almost didn't hear the quiet question from the bed across from his.

"So what did cause that reaction?" Draco tentatively asked.

He could feel his face blanch. Somehow after everything he'd heard, it felt small and trivial.

"Oh, Erm…" Harry stuttered, then decided he would just go for it without any embarrassment, "I have hair!"

Draco shook his head, "You seriously just noticed? It's been a week or so since the rest of us have."

"Why didn't you say anything?" Harry asked, a little upset that no one thought to tell him.

"That would go against every single etiquette rule that was pounded into my head growing up," the Malfoy heir responded.

"Well," Harry leaned back against his headboard with a smile on his face, "it's news to me."

Saturday, 10th May 1997

The idea of the tunnels fascinated Harry and he spent the next week trying to figure out if they were attached to anywhere within the second story of the Manor and, if so, how the two young wizards could discreetly access them. After looking through every part of the walls and floor in their room, he hadn't been able to see anything that would potentially open to the tunnels. He'd worked through some basic logic though that told him the Tunnels must somehow attach to the guest rooms. First, the healers would likely need some way to transport the patients from their guest room to the infirmary and then from the infirmary - assuming the patient died - to the farm or makeshift morgue. This meant there should be somewhere the Tunnels attach to the second and possibly even the third story. Alternatively, there could be a centrally located tunnel that served the whole floor instead of each individual room. Draco was the best person to ask to get this information, but that would mean bringing the young Slytherin in on the plans, however small they were right now.

"What do you want to do after Hogwarts?" Harry casually asked in an effort to back into the conversation about the Tunnels.

They were taking their daily walk outside around the gardens with Yaxley and Macnair as their guards; two of the easier Death Eaters, an observation that did not go unnoticed by Harry and therefore the perfect time to bring up something like this. It was already late in the afternoon, as they had slept most of the morning after last night's ritual, but the weather was getting more pleasant as the weeks went by and they headed from Winter to Spring and towards Summer.

"You mean assuming we get out of here-" Draco replied, looking around for their guards, "- and I somehow manage to make up the weeks' worth of work I've missed?"

That last part wasn't meant to spotlight Harry's own situation, but it didn't make the Gryffindor feel good about his own educational future. Were there positions he could go into if he were six years behind?

"Assuming all that happens," Harry asked shuffling his feet across the pebbles, "are you still interested in healing?"

"Actually," the other wizard stopped his own pacing and faced the Gryffindor, "I've been talking a lot with Healer Walker during the rituals." Harry gave a skeptical look at this. "It sounds strange, but there's some downtime before it all starts and waiting… just… go with it."

"Alright," Harry rubbed his head in a nervous gesture and held it for an extra second. It still felt strange to feel the growing hair returning to his head. It was a different texture than his old hair - more wiry and thick - but at least it still had the black color because Dr Swanson had said occasionally chemotherapy patient's hair could grow back a different color. A part of him expected it to be red like his mum's, and was a little nervous how he'd look as a redhead.

"And there's not nearly enough research done on muggle diseases in the wizarding world. There are only two healers in all of wizarding Britain that specialize in it," Draco was nervous, it was obvious when he rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. "She grew up here, in Wiltshire, did you know that?"

Harry shook his head, "No, I hadn't realized that. Did she know your father? They're about the same age, right?"

"That is correct, Mr Potter," came the smooth drawl of Lucius Malfoy from behind them. "Nadine Walker and I have a… complicated history together."

The way he'd said it sounded completely ominous and Harry doubted he'd get the story from either Malfoy with the patriarch present. Lucius had stopped by their cell at least three more times since his first visit and each time Harry pretended he was asleep, or made sure he was in the lavatory. Naturally, the Gryffindor tried to eavesdrop, however even without a privacy spell - making it obvious that Lucius still wasn't trusted with a wand - the father and son pair spoke so quietly, he could only pick up small odds and ends. On top of the fact that he was positive at least half of what he heard was in some kind of code, meaning he didn't pick up much of any information from the elder Malfoy wizard's visits. One thing he was sure about was that he had zero intention of ever talking to the man no matter how long they ended up staying locked up in the Manor. This was the first time the older Slytherin had seeked either of them outside of their cell.

"If you both will accompany me," Lucius stoically said, giving a small nod to their guards.

It wasn't asked as a question, but a demand. There was no way Harry was going with the Death Eater. Yaxley approached them, but waved off Macnair with instructions to go back to guarding the door. Draco and his father started off towards the Manor and Harry didn't budge until Yaxley took a hold of his upper arm again - nowhere nearly as rough as he had in the past - not giving him a choice in the matter. He was dragged in through the elaborate door and down an ornate corridor heading to where he recognized, by now, was the library. Interestingly, when leaving the manor, the guards commonly took alternating routes and passages, yet coming back in they usually went one of two ways: past the library or around it. Today, though, they were heading straight for the library instead of taking the corridor directly in front of it.

Harry had caught glimpses of the expansive room that was the biggest personal library he'd ever seen. The dark hardwood floor was covered in plush rugs that outlined several seating areas where, the Gryffindor admitted, looked comfortable to sit and read. Never did he think he'd become as studious as he had this year - something Hermione would be proud of - and it was equally ironic and depressing to realize that the year he had nothing else to do besides study was the same year he couldn't continue his education. A lit fireplace sat on the far wall giving the room a deceivingly comfortable feel to it; like anyone could simply walk in here, pluck a book from the shelves, and sit in front of the fire to read.

And the books! Hermione would probably die seeing this many personal books in one place. The walls were adorned in floor to ceiling bookshelves made of a dark, expensive looking wood Harry was uncomfortable to even touch. Books of all shapes and sizes filled the shelves, reminding him of a more organized version of Olivander's. Curiosity got the better of him, and he found himself craning his neck to see some of the titles and categories. It appeared they had every category of magic accounted for, in addition to the wide range of wizarding literature Harry knew nothing about. What was missing - or at least not visible - was anything on the Dark Arts. There was no way a family like the Malfoys didn't have books like that, so there must have been a restricted section somewhere hidden in the vast room, and the more the young wizard thought about it, it was unlikely they would leave those out in the open where anyone could see them. Had Voldemort been here, searching for the answer to making a Horcrux, all those times they couldn't pass this room heading back to their cell?

"Thank you, Corban," the Malfoy Patriarch smoothly said when the two pairs stopped before the fireplace. "I'll take it from here and return them to their room when we're through."

Again, Yaxley didn't say a word, just nodded his agreement and abruptly left. Throughout his two months at the Manor, Harry didn't like to say he had his favorite Death Eaters, but there was definitely a hierarchy of those he preferred and those he did not. Yaxley not only fell into the former category, he was at the top of the category. There was something different about him Harry inherently noticed some time around the middle of last month and he had this particular Death Eater marked in his notes as one that he wanted on guard when he staged his escape. The second guard was still up in the air, however he was making progress and had a lengthy list of those he didn't want watching over them.

The heavy library door closed with a loud bang that surprisingly echoed through the room given the amount of books located within it. With the closing of that door, Harry started to visibly sweat from the suffocating feeling regardless of the spacious room and cathedral ceiling.

"Our Manor was built in the early 1600's," Lucius started without any preamble, "and while many of the rooms have seen small updates and improvements throughout the years, this room has stayed more or less unchanged in that time."

Harry looked all around him. Was he supposed to respond to that statement? Be amazed at how long the Malfoys have lived on the same property, in the same Manor, for centuries?

"The manuscripts held within these shelves," the aristocratic man continued, "date back all the way to the conception of Hogwarts. It had taken generations upon generations to collect the sheer quantity of tomes located in this room, all of which are handed down to the primary heir."

Draco's face flushed at the casual reference to his unique position within the family. He wasn't simply the primary heir, he was the sole heir, just like Harry was to the Potter family. He'd obviously been to his vault many times, but outside of the money he didn't recall seeing any other family heirlooms. What happened to the things that had been passed down from father to son throughout the years? There had to be something left from them.

"You should feel honored," Draco added, "I was only allowed in here when I was homeschooled. Besides school, it's a well known fact that children are not allowed in a library like this."

It was another example of how oppressive growing up in this environment would have been. The younger Slytherin had the world at his disposal, but was unable to touch any of it. Harry had grown up with similar oppressive rules, but for very different reasons. His relatives were trying to punish him whereas the blonde's parents were protecting their valuables, neither was healthy for raising a teenage boy.

"So then why are we here?" Harry demanded, ready to get whatever this was moving. At a bare minimum, he wanted to end the explanation of the lavish history on the room.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk," the older blonde said, "Dare I say, you should be more grateful about your current circumstances, Mr Potter. Not everyone within the Manor is as comfortable as The Chosen One. Certain individuals are not even allowed to leave with the exception of a certain, very specific task. Here, you've been given the privilege of not only seeing daylight, but experiencing it daily."

Harry's face paled as it completely drained of blood. Was that a message? Did it mean Snape was locked away in a windowless cell, and not allowed to leave?

"It appears that my wife has come to the conclusion that you both could use some additional activities to engage your minds," he said with his head held high. "Feel free to borrow anything, within reason, on these shelves."

Why couldn't the Malfoys simply say what they meant in real English instead of their haughty version of it? Could he really trust that he'd been brought here to browse the library in an effort to find other ways to occupy his time? Apparently Draco had less reservations about underlying intentions and immediately started browsing the texts he should have known well enough by now not to require such an intense focus. Following suit, Harry started exploring the shelves to see if anything struck his attention. For the most part, Lucius simply kept a keen eye on the pair of sixteen year olds as they moved independently throughout the room. The intimidating wizard kept his distance, treating Harry like he was a caged animal being released for the first time; completely untrusting, but desperate for whatever was waiting on the other side of that cage that he was willing to accept whatever was handed to him.

It hadn't been more than ten minutes when the man spoke again, but not to Harry, and in the same quiet tone the Gryffindor had become used to hearing during the father and son visits back in their cell. This time, Harry found himself inching towards them to hear better.

"That's an interesting choice and one I think one you'd enjoy," Lucius quietly spoke. Out of the corner of his eyes, Harry saw the older Malfoy take the book from Draco's hand and examine it. "I think you'll find the ending of this particular literary masterpiece extremely liberating for the two young protagonists. Most definitely an insightful read that will challenge both your vocabulary and patience. If you can make it through to the end, I think you'll find the tale quite satisfying."

Draco clutched the book tightly to his chest and nodded. The two of them continued their cryptic conversation, none of which meant anything to Harry, and he continued further away from the Slytherins in search of something he would find of interest. In a matter of minutes, he came across a section on history and more specifically, architecture, that looked promising. He picked out a book that he hoped would give him some insight into the Tunnels that were located somewhere below his feet, hoping the patriarch wouldn't be approving the books they brought back to their cell.

"Ah, great choice, Mr Potter," Harry jumped at the sound of Lucius's solid, yet calm voice behind him, "Have you previously read that specific piece of literary fiction?"

The Gryffindor furrowed his eyebrows and looked down at the book in his hands, Architectural Marvels in the Wizarding World. This was far from literary fiction and he got the feeling the wizard looking over his shoulder was also well aware of that fact.

"No, sir," Harry carefully responded, able to pick up on the subtly used, "I haven't read this one."

Standing tall, Lucius looked over his pointed nose and said, "You'll find it explores the idea of how the dynamic, specifically forgiveness and trust, between a father and his son can be one of the most important and powerful parts in a young wizard's upbringing. Of course, that's not so relevant for an orphan like yourself. Perhaps you would rather find something a bit more… relatable."

At first his blood started to boil at the casual reference to his orphaned status, but the more he considered the words that were actually said, there was no denying that the reference was about Snape and himself. Had Snape told the man about his other reality? And if so, did that mean he could be trusted? Snape must have considered him an ally to have told him such an important event.

"I'll keep that in mind," the Gryffindor said, still clutching the book to his chest. "Thank you for this, sir."

The rest of their time in the library was more or less spent in silence. Every so often the Death Eater would start telling them about some famous witch or wizard that had visited the estate, none of whom Harry actually knew or cared about. They spent almost an hour in the library and after finding the book on architecture, the Gryffindor spent the rest of the time trying to stealthily find out if the Tunnels attached to this room. With the buttery on the same floor, he doubted they had any reason to, but he wasn't about to leave any stone unturned in his quest. This was far too important to make silly mistakes or overlook even the smallest of details, even if Lucius had already told them the library had been unchanged since its creation.

Once they were settled back in their bedroom, Harry immediately went searching through the text he'd discovered for any kind of reference to the Tunnels. With Malfoy Manor belonging to such a prominent family in Wizarding Britain, he had hard time believing there would be nothing about these historic Tunnels, even if their true nature wasn't revealed. In fact, the more that Harry thought about it, trying to think like a Slytherin, they probably did hide the actual purpose for them. So what other story could they have come up with to explain them, while shining the Malfoy family in a positive light?

"What do you want to do?" Draco asked from where he was sitting by the fireplace.

"About what?" Harry responded only half paying attention. When no answer came, Harry looked up at his roommate watching the fire flickering across the top. "After school?"

With a clenched jaw, Draco turned his head and nodded, "Whenever that is for you."

He had started the conversation back when they were in the gardens, so he couldn't be too upset when the other wizard wanted to know his own plans.

"Assuming I make it out of here alive," it was a big assumption, but one he had to stay focused on otherwise he'd be completely lost, "I don't really know. Since fourth year, I wanted to be an auror, but that was before…"

"All the times you've faced the Dark Lord," the blonde guessed, "or the cancer?"

"Both, I guess," the Gryffindor honestly replied. "It'll be at least another six years before I finished school-"

"Six?!" Draco interrupted, "how do you figure? You didn't miss that much school this year. I bet Severus could get you caught up over the summer and you'll be back with us next year."

Grief filled him up and this time it was Harry's turn to look away. Draco knew about the horcrux; it was one of the reasons that caused the need for him to be the specimen for the Blood Ritual to begin with. In all this time together, he'd been surprised he managed to keep his lack of magic a secret.

"I don't have any magic," he eventually said. "I won't be back with you guys next year."

"You mean you can't use your magic," Draco clarified as he stood and slowly walked over to his bed, facing Harry, "but that was only with all those muggle medications you were taking this year. Now you're only on what… four of them? And they're not that bad, comparatively."

"It's a bit more complicated than that," he mumbled, "the medications took my magic right before you landed me here. Now until Vold- his soul fragment is removed, I'm completely magicless… and even then, the magic I'll hopefully have will be raw magic, no better than a first year."

"Damn," the blonde said in almost a daze, "So you're saying that even if we were able to get a couple of these idiots' wands-"

"I can't do a thing with it," Harry interrupted. "So yeah, by the time I get through with chemotherapy, remove the soul fragment, and retrain my magic, I'll be a little old to join the auror program."

Neither of them mentioned that someone still had to deal with megalomaniac wizard they were trying to escape from. Depending on when they managed to escape, and who they escaped with, he'd continue to gain power - especially with the potions continuing to work - and according to the prophecy, it should be up to Harry to defeat him. The idea of that was too daunting for the young wizard to think about at that moment.

"You could be my poster boy?"

"What?!" That got Harry's attention very quickly.

"For my Wizarding Center for Muggle Diseases," the blonde held his hands out like he was introducing a new sign. "It'll be great. Healer Walker will lead the team, Severus can work on the specific potions' formulations, you as our public image and speaker… and then me, or the Malfoy Family, as the masterminds behind it all."

"So no actual healing for you?" Harry asked.

"Jury's still out on that one," he arrogantly replied. "I could have a joint position if it comes down to it."

Harry simply shook his head, able to hear the message underneath the layer of confidence in his plan. All of those people were currently locked up in the Manor and it was unlikely they'd all make it out alive. It was a dream, and one that if they did manage to all escape, Harry would fully support.

~~~~SS~~~~

To Severus, the days were all merging together as he simply continued making potions day in and day out, with his Saturday delivery being the only event marking the end of one week and the start of the next. Today, after delivering the potions, the Dark Lord was favoring Sectumsempra for his curse of choice during this week's torture session. This, unfortunately, left the former spy having to try and heal the wounds with wandless incantations. It worked well enough to be able to remove the curse, but not to completely heal them, so Healer Walker had spent the better part of the night wrapping them the muggle way.

"You can't keep this up every week," Nadine commented, still focused on wrapping the bleeding gash on his upper arm. "At some point, he's going to accidentally kill you."

"This is a win-win situation for us," Severus sat up against the wall on his mattress, giving a grimace in pain, "either he keeps me alive to continue poisoning him or he kills me and dies from the Leukemia."

She narrowed her blue eyes at him and then continued on with her healing.

"And anyways," the professor continued, "it's not like there's anything I can do about it. Outside of continuing to not heal his cancer, what do you expect me to do?"

"It just seems wrong," Nadine said with a sad tone laced into her voice. "All of this is wrong."

"Welcome to the dark side of the wizarding world," he grimaced again when she tied the wrap tightly around his arm. At first her overly righteousness - almost to Harry's Gryffindor level - was rather annoying, but after two months he'd learned to accept it as part of who she was. It balanced his overly realistic - she would say pessimistic - point of view and kept him from losing his mind within itself; it kept him focused and sharp without him even realizing it. Before he could say another word about his situation, the door opened and Lucius walked in, gently closing the door behind them. Immediately, Nadine tensed up.

"What are you doing here?" she aggressively asked and swiftly moved to the other side of their room.

"I've been sent to make sure our Potioneer has managed the correct healing incantations," Lucius replied without even acknowledging her presence. "It appears you're more skilled than the Dark Lord gives you credit for."

"I'm counting on that," he confidently said. "The rest of this will heal the muggle way."

"The slow way," Lucius commented with a scowl, before adding, "Harry knows about the Tunnels."

"You're certain?" Severus asked, already knowing the answer, and then based on the other Slytherin's face, he added, "How?"

"Apparently my son found it entertaining to tell yours a ghost story."

It could have been a statement straight from his old reality. They were six days away from not only the anniversary - to him - of his son's death, but to the actual day: 16, May 1997. The observation that this was the actual date coming up hit him around his birthday, as he was contemplating if he were turning 37 or 38 this year. All this time he'd expected to spend the day with Harry in hopes of helping to heal a fraction of the always present wound still inside of him. This Harry was different, but he had been just as happy being a mentor, practically a father figure, to the teen this year, and with Harry in Maintenance there was so much they could have been doing on the 15th and 16th. Now, he'd be a prisoner to his own memories and his own negativity on one of the worst days of his life.

"Is there a chance the Order will be in place before Harry tries anything incredibly stupid?" He focused back on the new problem at hand, while noticing Nadine's change of posture after the comment about Severus's son.

"I guess that depends on how quickly he acts on this knowledge," the blonde replied. "According to my last missive, a team has managed to get into the Farm and are almost in place."

"Perfect," the professor grunted, his arm still in a small amount of pain. "What's the timing looking like?"

"I'm still testing the boundaries of the wards," the Malfoy patriarch explained, "I do not believe they extend to the Farm's property line, having been removed from the main wards when they were redone about a century ago. What I haven't been able to ascertain is how much of the Tunnels are tied to main wards and more importantly, the ability to disable them in specific sections."

"Can you do it?" He challenged the blonde.

"Of course I can," Lucius replied with a smirk, "it's just a matter of figuring out the exact order that will draw the least amount of attention."

"What are you both talking about?" Nadine stood with her hands crossed over her chest.

Giving the healer a quick glare, Severus quickly thought through the scenario. They needed as many wands as possible - once the Order made it into the Manor - and bringing her into the plan now would give the Healer time to accept the help from someone she despised, but not too much to talk herself out of it. Trusting an enemy was never simple and the balance between keeping your morals and saving your life was one of the hardest to manage.

"We're getting out of here," Severus bluntly told her.

Her face lit up and Severus was happy to have been able to provide that small comfort to her. It was short lived and a split second later, her brows lowered as she frowned.

"How do you know you can trust him?"

"His son is upstairs recovering from being used as a blood reservoir for months," the former spy explained to her, "you'd be surprised what a father would do for his child's safety. Besides, what other choice do you have? Stay here until your services are no longer needed? What do you think you'll do then?"

"But what about our-"

"This is a better option," Severus interrupted her. He didn't want Lucius to know about the poisoned potions, even if he were trustworthy; which, no matter what the situation, Severus wasn't prepared to say that. The truth was that given the time they had, it had probably been long enough to push the Leukemia into a fatal state, but he wasn't turning down an opportunity to escape even if it wasn't to fatal levels yet. No one would be here to continue the "healing" potions, so eventually he'd die, and if not then the Order could deal with it however they want after they're freed.

He could see the conflict crossing her mind as she looked out at the man she hated and would now be forced to trust. If she ended up dead from what she considered to be misplaced trust, it would be the same result as at the end of her tenure healing the Dark Lord.

"Ok," she conceded, likely after going through the same thought process Severus had. "So what's the plan?"

At her agreement, Lucius appeared to visibly relax; or as much as a double agent who was only days away from his mission could.

"The Order of the Phoenix is currently stationed at a farm just outside of the Malfoy property that's tied to the Manor by a series of underground, abandoned tunnels," Severus started explaining as both Slytherins knew he was the best one to do it. "Once Lucius is confident," he emphasized that word as a reminder not to give Albus the go ahead until he was sure the wards could be disabled and enabled successfully, "he can disable the wards in the order necessary for the team to breach the premises, they'll send help to get us out."

"Why can't we just leave through the Tunnels?"

It was a logical question and one he'd already gone through with the Malfoy patriarch.

"Unless you are sufficient enough with wandless magic, we need more support," Severus said, "not to mention that the boys' room is under guard, correct?"

"Yes," she nodded, having been there far too many times. "There are usually two guards standing post."

"During the day," Lucius corrected, "at night that drops down to one. That time will be, by far, our best chance to get them out without too much interference."

"And then what?" She asked incredulously, "we simply run to the Tunnels?"

"More or less," Severus answered, remembering doing almost this same mission for Sarah and Mary Smithe. This time though, they'd be entering a fully armed Manor instead of one that was barely protected. "Again, we don't have much other choice."

A pregnant pause fell over the room as each person realized that once they started this, there was no turning back. It was either escape or die trying.

"When?" The healer broke their silence with a firm voice behind her question.

For this one, Severus looked to Lucius for an answer.

"Next week," the blonde said with a nod.

A week. In a week they would hopefully be back in the safety of Hogwarts. Now he could only hope Harry held off on whatever plans he's been making until the rescue team arrived.