Harry awoke with a shuddering gasp, sitting bolt upright in bed and momentarily believing he was somewhere else. Someplace he’d long since left behind. He couldn’t seem to get his memories to fade away, as they kept returning in his nightmares.

Sitting on his bed, Harry’s breathing slowly started to descend into what was considered normal, although his heart still was thumping against his chest erratically. Tonight’s dream had been too realistic, but it was a memory of an actual event, it should be realistic. But, as a dream, it was entirely too frightening. It was one he’d been having repeatedly, and Harry couldn’t comprehend why he was still having it. He had thought that after letting out all of his tension the previous night, the nightmares would fade as well. They hadn’t. In fact, Harry thought they had grown worse, as more details, details he’d long forgotten about, came through in the nightmare.

Drawing the blankets closer to his chest, Harry leaned back against the headboard as the memories of the dream filtered into his mind, despite his efforts to stop them. He remembered all too vividly what his dream was about. He’d been seven at the time, possibly eight. His Uncle Vernon had come home from work and he hadn’t finished his chores in the allotted time frame. The list had been too impossible to accomplish for an adult, let alone a small child. Harry had figured his Uncle must have had a horrible day at work, for instead of making Harry make their dinner, which was the norm, he immediately took his nephew upstairs, removed his belt, and proceeded to thrash the life out of the small boy. At first, Harry hadn’t even known why he was being punished, only that he was and it hurt! Afterwards, Vernon had left him on the bathroom floor, small puddles of blood pooling underneath him on the white tiles. It had been one of the worst beatings Harry had ever received, and he’d never told anyone, not even his father.

Harry shuddered again, wishing he could just conjure the courage to get up and go to his father. He knew the man wouldn’t mind, that he’d welcome him with open arms. But, in the back of his mind, he wondered if it wouldn’t be more of an inconvenience to wake his father so late at night just because he’d had a stupid bad dream. A relatively heart-wrenching bad dream, nonetheless, but he couldn’t take the risk that he’d annoy his father with his presence at 3 am.

Ten minutes later, Harry began to rethink his brilliant plan of not bothering his father. Every noise, every shadow became something more than what it really was. His incessant shaking was beginning to make him feel nauseous. He felt terrible. Getting out of bed, he quickly made his way down the hallway and to his father’s door. Raising his hand to knock, Harry started having second thoughts once more. He was being ridiculous. It had just been a bad dream. He began lowering his shaking hand from the spot in front of Severus’ door where it hovered uncertainly, when out of nowhere, his fist knocked of its own accord.

As soon as his knuckles hit the wood he wrenched himself back in shock. He couldn’t believe he’d done that. Moving away down the hall, Harry stopped in his tracks when he heard the door open.

“Harry?” asked a voice from within the bedroom. “Are you all right?”

Harry nodded jerkily. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he said, hoping his voice sounded as casual as he’d let on. He wasn’t entirely sure it had worked, though.

“You knocked?” he asked, holding the door open invitingly.

Harry paused, cursing his supposedly subconscious need to knock on his father’s door. He hesitated a moment too long, however, for his father stepped out of the room and into the hallway. “You had a nightmare?” he asked.

Harry was about to deny it but one look at his father had him stalling. “I-I just needed to go to the bathroom,” he hedged.

Severus sighed. “Harry, I know you had a nightmare, I set an alarm spell on you if you happened to become distressed during the night,” he raised his hands placatingly when Harry began to get angry at the intrusion. “You haven’t exactly been forthcoming lately, child. I’ve only done what I thought best for you. If you won’t help yourself, I will.”

Harry gazed tiredly down at the floor, refusing to make eye contact with his father. He was still upset that Snape had gone behind his back like he had, putting an alarm spell on him. But, in some odd way, it really made him feel good that his dad would go that far to make sure he was okay, considering his lack of conversation about his nightmares. No one else had cared enough about him to even attempt to talk to him, let alone go to all the trouble his father had.

Images of his nightmare began to filter into his mind as he thought and a shudder ripped through him. Not even realizing he had moved, Harry suddenly found himself walking into his father’s comforting arms. He needed to know someone cared about him, someone wanted him, and this was it. His father loved him. So why was it so hard to let him in?

He leaned into his father’s embrace, too tired to return it, but sucking in all the comfort this man had to give, finally allowing his body to go limp. Severus held him tighter, supporting his son’s small figure against him.

Severus gently raked his fingers through his son’s disheveled hair. “Come, let’s get you back in bed,” he said slowly, walking down the hallway with Harry securely held in his arms. He had merely lifted the boy off his feet, he weighed less than nothing, and strode back into his son’s doorless room.

The further they progressed, the more Harry began to come back to himself. He didn’t want to go back to bed, only visions of horror waited for him there. “No, dad,” he murmured, pushing against his father’s chest. Severus came to an abrupt stop and lowered the boy to his feet.

“What, son?”

“I’m not tired,” he tried helplessly.

Severus smirked. He couldn’t find the energy to scowl. “You’re indeed tired. You’re almost asleep on your feet.”

Harry stared at the floor, internally debating with himself over his situation. He sighed, feeling he’d have no other choice but to tell the man about his newest nightmare. It wasn’t exactly new; it was the same as all the others, with the main character being Vernon Dursley. But, he had been so certain the nightmares would stop after speaking with Severus earlier. It was frustrating that he couldn’t even get rid of the damn things. Constantly waking up in terror was beginning to get tiresome.

“If I go to sleep,” he said, eyes still on the floor. “I’ll have another nightmare. I don’t want them, dad…” he trailed off, suddenly wondering whether or not speaking so freely to his father was the best idea. What if he thought he was weak and couldn’t deal with certain situations on his own? What if the older man decided his constant whining was too much for him to take and threw him out? He looked up at his father and was alarmed to see another face blurring in and out of focus where Severus’ face should be.

Harry took a faltering step backwards, his wide green eyes stark in terror.

“Harry?” asked the blurry figure, taking a step towards the frightened teen. Harry shook his head in an attempt to clear it. When he next looked up, his father was looking at him in deep concern. “Are you all right?” Severus asked, placing his hands on Harry’s shoulders.

With a ragged breath, Harry nodded his head uncertainly. What the hell was that?

Severus looked disbelieving. “I don’t quite think you are. You were frightened of me for a moment. Why?” he asked, his grip tightening on Harry’s thin shoulders.

Staring into his father’s worried eyes, Harry finally realized something was wrong with him. He had grown so exhausted that he was beginning to forget that this was Severus, his father, and not his horrible Uncle Vernon. It was a shocking revelation, one he wasn’t sure he was ready to deal with. How could he ever mistake the two? It wasn’t as if his father was an abusive psychopath with nothing that pleased him more than hurting someone under his care, namely Harry. Snape would never strike him, not intentionally.

As his father grew more and more worried over his son’s silence, Harry was trying desperately to gain the courage it would take to talk to his father about one more obstacle in his life. Why couldn’t things be more simple? Why couldn’t he just have a normal life without having to face the things that still haunted him from his past?

Severus lightly shook the boy’s shoulders as his emerald eyes began to grow dull. “Harry?”

Harry blinked. “Yeah?” he asked, staring up at the taller man.

Looking worried for his son, Severus turned the boy around and steered him into Harry’s bedroom. “Have a seat,” he indicated the bed, but Harry refused. He sat in an armchair that faced the fireplace instead. There was no fire lit at the moment, and instinctively, Severus waved his wand and the flames began to flick wildly to life before them. “Tell me what just happened,” it was more of a command and Harry wasn’t inclined to disobey his father, not when he kept drifting between what was real and what wasn’t.

“For a moment, I thought I saw my Uncle and not you,” he said tiredly, his gaze directed at the fire burning in front of him.

Severus was silent, taking in all that Harry had just said. This was unexpected and very disconcerting. What had caused Harry to see his Uncle before him instead of his own father? Had he frightened him unknowingly? The thought was a disturbing one, as he never wanted Harry to have cause to fear him again. “What made you think I was your Uncle?” he asked slowly.

Harry had been twisting his hand nervously in the baggy material of his jeans, but paused as he ran the question through his mind. He hadn’t exactly thought Severus was his Uncle. He had grown self-conscious for a moment, believing Severus would want to be rid of him, which was unfathomable for him to consider with his father, and had therefore thought of his Uncle. That was something Vernon would have done, and instantaneously, the vision of the one he feared above all else had appeared before him.

As he tried to explain his jumbled thoughts to his father, Severus transfigured the chair into a two-seated plush sofa and took a seat beside his son. Placing his arm around the boy’s shoulders, he could feel him tense up at the touch. After hearing the teen’s explanation on what had happened out in the hallway he grew increasingly concerned for his son’s growing exhaustion. How he wished Harry had never been left with those deplorable Muggles. If only he’d been able to get to know Harry sooner, maybe he could have saved his child from such a horrible childhood. It was entirely too late now, as the damage had already been done. And he despised himself for only making it worse all throughout Harry’s school years. Thank goodness he had seen the light, so to say, and taken the boy away from that bloody excuse of an Uncle.

He wasn’t sure how to approach the subject, now that he had found out what the boy had seen. It must have been frightening, where once stood your father, suddenly your abusive Uncle stood instead. How would one handle that type of situation? “Son, your Uncle is not here, nor will he ever be allowed inside. Your exhaustion is playing havoc on your emotions, but you must know that I would never react to anything you might do as your relatives have in the past. You are safe here and I will never allow you to be hurt if I can possibly help it. Now, perhaps it would help both of us to understand what set this off if you tell me what you were thinking when you thought your Uncle was here instead of myself?”

Severus knew he was treading on dangerous ground, as discussion of Harry’s Uncle had always been a sore spot where the boy was concerned. But he had to do whatever it took to help his son, including asking upsetting questions.

Harry tensed once more at the question and nearly pulled out of his father’s arm still lying prone across the back of his shoulders. Severus stopped that by pulling the boy flush up against his side and halting any further movement. “Tell me,” he instructed, pulling one hand through the boy’s messy locks in an effort to calm and relax him.

When Harry started speaking, he figured the technique had worked rather well.

“I thought if I was complaining too much you’d want rid of me. Stupid, I know, I can completely see that now, but at the time it seemed reasonable enough.”

Severus sighed. How could the boy think getting rid of him would be considered reasonable at any point or time? The thought had never crossed his mind, never, not once, and he told the boy as much.

“I know you would never throw me out, but at the time I didn’t think you were you. I thought for the briefest of moments that you were my Uncle, remember?”

Severus didn’t think it would be too likely for him to forget it anytime soon. It was still disturbing him that his son would think, even if it were for a moment, that he was his Uncle. It was alarming to say the least. “I’m not you’re Uncle, nor will I ever treat you as he did,” he thought to point out the obvious in case Harry needed clarification.

Harry looked at the man as if he’d lost his mind. “I realize that,” he said slowly.

“I thought perhaps you didn’t,” Severus reiterated quietly.

Anything Harry had been about to say was cut off when he suddenly grasped his head and moaned. “Not again,” he whispered, clutching the bedcovers with one hand in a valiant attempt at not clawing at his forehead. It was one of those headaches that seemed to debilitate him for days if not caught in time. Severus was up and moving before Harry had even finished speaking, rummaging through one of Harry’s bedside table drawers before finding what he was looking for.

Leaning over the child, he tilted Harry’s head back and poured the liquid down his throat, as Harry was never in any fit state to assist him when in such pain. Severus worried about what it was that caused these fits, and assumed it had something to do with the way he had killed Voldemort. It was a project he was still working on, discovering the reasons for these headaches and developing whatever potion it took to stop them.

As the pain receded, Harry sat up fully in the chair, still rubbing at his aching head. It wasn’t throbbing from his scar; otherwise he’d be worried. No, instead it was a pain that resonated all throughout his head, but mainly focused behind his eyes. It was almost as bad as the vision-induced headaches he used to have when Voldemort was still around, luckily that was no longer the case. Although the headaches were horrible in their intensity, there was no horrifying vision that accompanied them; he had to look at the bright points in this kind of thing.

“Better now?” Severus, watching him carefully as he placed the now empty vial back on the nightstand, settled down beside his son once more.

Harry shrugged. He’d felt better, that was for sure. And if he’d been sleepy before, he was down right exhausted now, with nothing on his mind than sleep, even if he didn’t want it one single bit. “I think I’m ready to get some rest now,” he said slowly, dreading it, but knowing he’d pass out if he didn’t lie down soon. The headaches always wore him out physically and emotionally.

Sighing, Snape stood up and helped Harry into bed. “I would give you a sleeping draught, but as you’ve had one already today it wouldn’t be wise. Do you think you’ll be able to go without?” he asked, genuinely concerned the teenager wouldn’t make it through the night without being subjected to yet another nightmare.

“I think I’ll survive,” he wryly rejected the offer with a bit of a smile. Severus knew Harry was only trying to lighten the mood, but the fear in his child’s eyes told him otherwise.

“I could stay?” he offered casually.

He saw the wheels turning in Harry’s eyes, and he thought he might be actually considering it. Whereas Harry was on his own to wake himself up from a nightmare, if Severus was there he would be able to wake him before it ever got too bad. But Harry eventually shook his head.

“I’ll be fine,” he finally said, lying back against his pillows and pulling the covers up to his chin, almost in a protective gesture, or so Severus thought.

“You’re sure?” he tried one last time, even knowing Harry would refuse.

“Yes. I doubt I’ll have another one,” he said in the most convincing voice he could muster, which wasn’t much.

“Very well. If you do happen to have another one, wake me.” Harry merely nodded. “Goodnight, then,” he said, slowly exiting the bedroom and walking down the hall to his own.

……………………………….

If Harry had another nightmare, Severus was none the wiser. He never heard another peep from the boy throughout the entire night, and now sunlight was rising just beyond the horizon and Harry was still asleep. Thank Merlin.

Sitting down at the dining room table, Severus picked up the Daily Prophet from where it awaited for him. Cella was always prompt with his paper and morning cup of tea. He was in the middle of turning a page and taking a sip simultaneously when he heard the fireplace in his study roar to life and then a resounding thud. He calmly placed the cup back on the table and lowered his paper.

“Black. What are you doing in my home at such an atrocious hour?” he asked, clearly not pleased with his early morning visitor. He hadn’t even finished his tea yet!

Said man stepped out of Severus’ study and into the dining room where Snape finally set eyes on him for the first time. “How’d you know it was me?”

Severus stared. “Wild guess,” he said, deadpan.

Sirius ignored the man’s sour mood and sat down across from him. “Got anymore of that?” he asked, indicating Severus’ nearly empty teacup.

“No,” he said bluntly, but was contradicted almost immediately as Cella appeared and placed a steaming cup in front of Sirius, who looked smug. Severus glared at the house-elf. Cella was undisturbed and glared right back. “We have plenty of tea!” she exclaimed before storming out of the room. Snape wondered what had her in such a mood, but couldn’t really be bothered to wonder for more than a few seconds.

“Where’s Harry?”

“Where do you think? He’s upstairs sleeping, like most normal people do at this hour,” he said dryly, staring Sirius down hoping he’d take the hint and go home.

“You’re awake,” the man pointed out, smiling.

Severus sneered. “I’m in no mood to deal with you, Black. Kindly finish your tea and get out,” he demanded, slamming his own cup down on the table. “Better yet, forego the tea and just get out.”

“I thought you two weren’t going to fight anymore,” said a quiet voice from behind them. Both men’s heads shot up and turned in the same instant, landing on the small figure standing in the doorway.

“We weren’t fighting,” intoned Sirius, looking back and forth between the father and son. “We were just…”

“Fighting,” Harry helpfully supplied.

“Well…” Sirius was obviously at a loss for words and turned around and stared at his cup in wonderment. Harry smiled.

“What are you doing here so early? I thought you liked to sleep in?” asked Harry.

Severus smirked. “He came to annoy me,” he said quietly to himself but Harry heard him despite the whispered words.

Harry shrugged. “Probably,” he grinned at the look on his father’s face. “Do we have anymore tea?” asked Harry, taking a seat beside his father. Cella immediately appeared with another steaming cup of tea, still glaring at his father. “What’s wrong with her?”

“I have no idea,” said Severus, focusing his attention back on his paper.

Harry just looked between the two men with a shrug. “What’s for breakfast?” he asked.

“I believe Cella will decide what the meal will be. I’m not so sure she’s too happy with me this morning, although I’m not entirely sure why she’s angry. Either way, you’ll have to speak with her about your breakfast,” Severus stated, taking another sip of his tea.

“Oh.” Harry called for Cella in order to ask.

“Sleep well?” asked Sirius, trying to look nonchalant and failing miserably.

Harry looked at him nervously and nearly jumped out of his seat when his father cleared his throat loudly. Harry looked at him and noticed the look he was receiving. “I had another nightmare,” he finally muttered.

Sirius sighed and put a reassuring hand on his godson’s shoulder. “They won’t last forever, Harry,” he said encouragingly.

“Yeah, I guess not,” he said.

“What was it about?” asked Sirius, causing Harry to stare at him once more than morning.

“My Uncle…what else would it be about?” he asked scathingly, but the heat in his voice wasn’t directed at Sirius, but at himself.

Severus looked up from his paper.

“What was happening this time?” asked Sirius, sticking with the tread of the conversation, much to Harry’s irritation.

“Use your imagination,” said Harry, and was instantly up from the table. He thought he’d go help Cella with their morning meal and avoid all these damn questions. Killing two birds with one stone, if you will.

Before the door swung shut behind him, he heard his father. “Brilliant use of tact, Black.” The door swung closed.

…………………………….

“Can I go visit Draco?” asked Harry out of the blue.

Severus glanced up from the potion he was making. “Perhaps another time, Harry. I don’t want you to visit Malfoy Manor without an escort,” he said casually, stirring the potion counter clockwise as he watched his son.

“I could take him,” offered Sirius, who still hadn’t left and was bored out of his mind. He wanted to spend time with his godson, and if going to visit the Malfoy boy got the two of them out of Snape’s hair, then so be it.

Severus stared. “Somehow that doesn’t leave me feeling any better.”

“Dad!”

“All right, you may go, so long as your Godfather sticks with you every step of the way,” he instructed, leveling his intense gaze at Sirius and not Harry.

“He will!” exclaimed Harry.

“Lovely,” replied Severus sarcastically. “I expect you back before dinner,” he thought to add.

Harry nodded as he and Sirius walked out of the laboratory and into Severus’ study. “Let me go first,” stated Sirius. At Harry’s questioning look, he clarified, “Just as a precautionary measure.”

Soon after found Harry tumbling out of the fireplace and straight into his godfather’s arms. “Thanks for that.” It would have been entirely too embarrassing to fall flat on is face, especially with Draco Malfoy standing right in front of him. “Hey, Draco!” he greeted happily.

The teen looked stunned to say the least. “What are you doing here?” he asked, looking a bit nervous.

“I thought I’d stop by and visit you,” said Harry, watching his friend suspiciously. “Are you all right?” he asked. Draco looked worn down and worried.

“Yeah, fine,” he answered quickly, ushering them more fully into the parlor they had stumbled into. Harry finally got the chance to look around and was amazed at how gorgeous Malfoy’s home was. It was more elegant than Snape Manor, but it also had a colder air to it.

“Is it all right that we’re here?” asked Sirius. He didn’t want an enraged Narcissa Malfoy coming down on them. “Your mother won’t mind?”

Draco shifted on his feet. “No, she won’t mind. She’s visiting my grandmother and won’t be home until this evening.”

Harry smiled cheerfully at his friend, walked towards him and grabbed his sleeve, pulling him towards the stairs. “Don’t just stand there, show me around this place. It’s even bigger than our house,” he thought to add as Draco was looking at him oddly.

“Okay…” he muttered. Harry was getting a very weird feeling off of Malfoy but didn’t know what could be causing it. He’d had an odd sense of apprehension after reading the boy’s letter and now he was acting off kilter. Sirius had wondered off into another section of the house and as soon as the man was out of earshot, Harry pulled Draco to a stop.

“Is everything okay?” he asked quietly. He suddenly had an awful idea. “Your father isn’t hiding here, is he?” he asked, fear lighting up his eyes.

Draco actually laughed at that. “No! Stop being so paranoid, Potter. He’s still in Azkaban, and Merlin permitting, he’ll stay there for the rest of his life.”

Harry sighed in relief before looking sheepishly at his friend. “Sorry, you just seemed distant and I thought something might be going on,” he said.

Draco shrugged. “Nothing’s going on. No evil plots are afoot. You seriously need to calm down with your ideas of depraved schemes at every turn,” he said, jokingly.

Grinning along with the teen, Harry followed him through the long corridors and ceaseless bedchambers, wondering what had gotten him all riled up in the first place. Draco was acting just as he always did, now at least. But, something had definitely been off when they’d first arrived. Deciding not to worry about it any longer, Harry continued to follow his friend into every nook and cranny of Malfoy’s beautiful yet eerie manor.

Harry was completely and utterly lost as they walked down a corridor far away from where they had first entered. “Where are we going?” he asked. He’d wanted to see Draco’s room and asked the boy as such. But surely he didn’t stay all the way down here, did he? It was so dark and depressing, he couldn’t imagine walking to his bedroom every night, if this was truly where the boy slept.

“My room,” he said as if it was normal to be living down here.

“But it’s so creepy.”

Draco laughed. “This entire Manor is ‘creepy’. But at least down here I’m as far away from my parents as I can get,” he added darkly. “I asked to be moved down here.”

“What?” Harry was shocked. “Why on earth would you do that?”

“I already told you, Potter. Pay attention.”

Harry paused and glanced towards the teen walking beside him. Draco’s face was barely illuminated by the lantern they were forced to bring just to see properly. There were no windows in this part of the manor and it was nearly impossible to see without some kind of candle.

“Were your parents that bad?” he asked, already knowing Malfoy’s father was a bastard, but surely not his mother. She’d seemed cool and uncaring the one time he’d seen her at the Quidditch World Cup, but surely that was just a front. But looking back at Draco’s face he wasn’t so sure anymore.

“Yes, they were pretty bad. My father was worse than my mother; she just ignores my existence.”

Harry sighed. “Yeah, I saw first hand what your father was like,” he stated, recalling the night Draco had shown up in his kitchen after his father had beaten the hell out of him. He wasn’t likely to forget. “Your mum wasn’t like that?” he asked carefully.

“No.”

Harry nodded. “She’s not like that now?” he asked again quietly, wondering if in the lack of Malfoy senior’s presence, the woman would haul off and hit her son. It had been known to happen.

Draco glanced at him. “No,” he said slowly. “What’s with all the questions?”

“Not sure.” Harry shrugged.

They had stopped moving a while ago, but Harry had been too preoccupied to notice. A door stood ajar before them and Harry finally glanced inside. “This is your room?” he asked.

Draco nodded. “The one and only.”

Harry grinned. “Wow, it’s big,” he said slowly, somehow imagining the room to be more like a dungeon than an actual bedroom by the way Draco had been talking. It was just as elaborate as the rest of the house, only with a more teenaged style. It was obvious to the Gryffindor that the room hadn’t been used in a while. Harry stored that thought away for later perusal.

“Oh yes, it’s the largest room in the manor. Get a grip, Potter, this is small compared to some of the other chambers, and especially compared to my parent’s bedchamber. I would show you, but I’m not allowed inside.”

Harry glanced at him. “Even when you were younger?”

“Why would I go in there when I was younger?” asked Malfoy, looking aghast.

“A bad dream or you were scared?” Harry pointed out with a raised brow.

Draco scoffed. “I never went to them for anything. I knew better. Besides, I was never scared or had bad dreams.”

Harry doubted that but didn’t say as much.

“Want to come have dinner with us?” he asked suddenly, taking the other boy by surprise.

Staring at him blankly, Malfoy shrugged his shoulders. “Why?”

“It’s what friends do,” Harry remarked slowly as he thought his friend was being entirely too thick at the moment.

“Oh, well…okay.”

The two walked back down to the parlor and found Sirius pacing anxiously. “There you two are. I was beginning to wonder if the house had swallowed you whole or something,” he said, uncharacteristically worried for the both of them. Harry stared at his godfather curiously.

“I invited Draco for dinner, and seeing as how it’s almost time…” he trailed off pointing to his watch.

“Ah, ready to go then?” he asked. Harry and Draco nodded. Without a backward glance at his home, Draco disappeared into the fireplace after the others.

…………………….

The instant the hot meal was set before him Draco began shoving it down as if he hadn’t eaten in over a week. The other three stared at him. After a moment, Draco seemed to feel their gaze and slowed down his eating habits before coming to a halt, looking rather embarrassed.

“It’s really good. What is it?” he asked, eyeing the chicken and pasta before him almost desperately. Harry actually felt bad that his friend felt he had to stop eating to validate his reasons for eating like he was starving. Harry wondered when the last time he’d had a descent meal.

“Chicken Vino Blanco,” stated Severus offhandedly, he was more interested in watching his godson fixedly. Then his father fixed upon the question he’d just been wondering himself. “When was the last time you ate, Draco?” Severus looked mildly irritated.

Malfoy dropped his fork as if burned. “Why?” he asked.

“Because if you ate any faster you’d be inhaling your food, child. Now, answer the question,” he demanded, but his tone inflected concern, which calmed Draco considerably.

“I just haven’t been hungry,” he said, shrugging off their concern. “It’s boring eating by myself anyways.”

“Where’s your mother?” Severus still wasn’t buying Draco’s attempts at dismissing his concerns.

“With grandmother. She’ll be back tonight.”

“I’ll be wanting to speak with her then.” Severus was angry, that much was obvious. He was angry at Narcissa Malfoy and her lack of care when dealing with her son.

Draco blinked twice before nodding. “I’ll let her know.”

“You do that.”

Harry watched silently as Draco retook his fork and began eating at a more sedate pace. Something was going on, he just didn’t know what. Looking at his father, he could tell he thought the same thing. And even more surprising was the way Sirius kept looking at Malfoy as if he knew something the rest of them didn’t. What was going on? he wondered.

……………………………

Later that evening, Sirius and Harry took Draco back to Malfoy Manor. Harry didn’t like leaving him there all on his own, even knowing his friend’s mum would be home soon. That wouldn’t change things at all. Draco would still be by himself with a mother who didn’t want him around.

“Why don’t you come back over tomorrow?” asked Harry, hating the thought of the teen spending all his summer by himself and feeling unwanted and lonely. He knew those emotions only too well.

Draco shrugged. “I might.”

Harry shrugged as well. “I’ll expect you then.”

“I didn’t even say I was coming yet!” exclaimed Malfoy, looking shocked.

“So?”

Draco remained speechless. “Okay, I’ll be there.”

“Good. See you tomorrow, Malfoy.”

“Bye, Potter.”

Harry watched the boy swirl out of sight as he dropped the floo powder before re-emerging in his father’s study. Sirius was already waiting for him as he’d gone first.

“I need to speak with your father, Harry. I’ll be right back.”

Harry nodded though he had no idea why Sirius would voluntarily speak to his dad for. He suddenly wondered about the look Sirius had been giving Draco all evening long, as if he knew something. Maybe that was the reason he wanted to speak to his dad. Feeling sneaky, Harry crept down to the laboratory and placed his ear quietly against the door. It was during times like these that he wished he had one of those Extendable Ears Fred and George had made.

It was nearly impossible to hear a word they were saying through the thick wooden door. Standing up in defeat, he resolved to ask his father later when Sirius was gone. Instead he went upstairs and got ready for bed, hoping he’d make it through the night without another bloody nightmare.