“The Dark Lord is attacking the Manor,” Lucius said.

“No,” Draco breathed in denial. He was shaking his head in disbelief.

Narcissa Malfoy stepped toward her son; without sparing a glance at the others in the room. “Draco, I was so worried,” she whispered into his hair, pulling him into a possessive hug.

Draco did not respond with words. Instead, he hugged his mother back, showing no intention of letting go. Harry could barely see his head it was buried so deeply in her shoulder. Harry wasn’t sure whether to look away from the personal scene or not.

“I did not give you permission, Lucius,” Snape said tightly He was watching Narcissa with narrowed eyes.

Lucius looked at him calmly. “The Dark Lord’s followers were entering my house as I was looking for Narcissa. What did you expect me to do, Severus?”

Snape didn’t reply, but instead turned to Harry who was trying to sit up.

“You, don’t move! The last thing I need is the headmaster blaming me for you falling off the couch, and cracking your foolish head open!” He snarled at Harry.

 At least he’s back to his old, snaky self, Harry thought, staring at the man in slight horror.

He felt the need to stick his tongue out. Harry stomped on the thought, looked away, and lay back down.

The childish gesture would not only fail to impress the Malfoys, but who knew how Snape would respond.

Probably grab my tongue and threaten to cut it off, Harry thought, feeling his mouth twitch in humor.

Snape looked back up at Lucius, Narcissa, and their son. “We are leaving,” he said to Draco without looking at him.

Heading to the fireplace he added, “I’ll trust you not to kill Potter. Tell me if he develops a fever. We’ll be at the headmaster’s office.”

Draco was looking alarmed. “But professor! I--what if something happens, I will not be responsible if Potter keels over--” Lucius interrupted him with one word.

“Draco,” his tone was almost a warning. Draco seemed to deflate.

He still looked unsure about being left alone, but was trying to be determined.

“Yes, sir. I’ll be fine,” he said to his father.

Lucius nodded. He looked approving and Harry was sure he saw pride flicker in the man‘s eyes. Narcissa watched her son.

Her eyes met Harry’s as she turned to the Floo. The look in them was concerned. She did not know how Harry and Draco would act around each other. I’m sure Draco’s told her something about our constant fighting, Harry thought.

After they had left, the room seemed a lot larger to Harry. Draco looked at him. “Are you okay?”

Harry nodded. Frowning, Draco opened his mouth then stopped, just to try again. “I forgot, you can’t speak.”

Harry gave him a look of annoyance. No, really? I didn’t realize! he thought sarcastically.

Draco smirked. “I think I like you better this way, Potter.”

Harry’s eyes widened before narrowing. Draco--why am I still thinking of him as Draco? He doesn’t deserve a first name basis, Harry’s thoughts were angry and somehow disappointed. He realized that he might be a little childish as well.

Harry looked away so his face was turned to the back of the couch. Draco was still standing beside him and Harry forced himself not to look at him. At the same time, he forced himself to think of the boy opposite him by his first name.

“I’m sorry.”

Harry’s head turned to give Draco a curious glance. Draco looked troubled, “It’s--partially my fault you’re in this condition. I should not have mocked you for it.”

Harry’s wide green eyes watched Malfoy as the other waited for something to happen. Maybe for Harry to nod his acceptance and forgiveness? Harry wished he could snort.

Draco was only acting like this because his daddy dearest had told him, more or less, to be nice. Harry wanted to give him a cold look but he didn’t feel like fighting. He was too tired to fight, he wanted some peace and quiet at the moment.

Harry nodded, hoping it would seem like the forgiving gesture it was.

Slowly, as if making sure he was welcome, Draco sat down in the chair Snape had preoccupied moments ago.

“I did try to fight the Imperius you know,” Draco said slowly. “I may not like you but--I didn’t want to kill you.”

I know, Harry thought wishing he could say it out loud.

His pale hands twitched. Draco looked down at his nails in fake interest. Harry fought back a smile.

“I guess you wouldn’t happen to know why they left….” Draco was referring to his parents and Snape. It wasn’t really a question. Harry shook his head anyway.

Draco sighed, and glared at Harry when the other finally couldn’t hold back a smile. Standing stiffly, Draco spoke. “I’m looking for some edible food.”

With that he stalked off. Harry lost his smile slowly as he waited for he return of Snape and the Malfoys.

……………………………..

Draco came back before Snape did. Harry was surprised to see no food with him. Had the house been abandoned and had no food left in it, or was the youngest Malfoy just too picky?

“Do you know who’s house we are in? I’ve been looking around for clues of ownership, pictures, family crests and the like. I‘ve been unlucky so far.”

Harry was on the verge of sleeping. He wished the other boy hadn’t disturbed him. His expression probably showed his annoyance, but Draco did not seem to notice.

“I think it’s Snape’s house,” Draco said and Harry awoke immediately.

Snape’s house? I don’t want to stay in Snape’s house, he cast a nervous look around the quiet room. Now that his head was not throbbing like earlier, and the Crucio effects had mostly worn off, he could make sense of his surroundings.

It seemed he was in the living room. The couch he lay on, and two large armchairs were in the middle of the room gathered around a scratched and stained coffee table. Then there was the kitchen chair. It was pulled up to the couch that Snape had sat in.

Cobwebs hung in the darkened corners of the room, the floor was wooden and needed a polish, a thin layer of dust covered every surface. It looks like the kind of nightmare Aunt Petunia would have, Harry thought dryly. He himself felt his fingers itching to get a broom and go at the floor. It desperately needed help.

Harry looked at Draco and slowly sat up, ignoring the other boy’s protests. He tried to stand to--and that ended up with his legs collapsing underneath him.

Draco darted forward in time to hold him up and Harry gasped as he was pushed roughly back on the couch. Draco was scowling down at him. His hands were still on Harry’s shoulders.

“Did you not hear what Snape said? He will murder me brutally if you get hurt, him and father. Saving you may be the only thing that keeps father from Azkaban!”

A headache was coming on. He really should not have tried to move. Harry lifted a hand to rub wearily at his forehead and Draco paused. “Headache?”

Harry nodded and winced at the jarring pain. Draco left the room returning moments later a vial in hand.

“This will help,” he said and held it out to Harry.

For once Harry did not regard it suspiciously as he drank it down. He saw the surprised look on Draco’s face and held back a grin knowing it would be misunderstood.

The headache started to fade after a moment and Harry breathed a sigh of relief. He opened his mouth and tried to say thanks. Nothing came out, of course, but even trying to speak hurt.

Harry placed a his hand on his neck carefully, feeling the bandage. It wrapped all the way around his neck like a tight scarf. Snape had bandaged it so it did not make it hard to breath. A vision of his hand finding a bloody slit in his throat made Harry withdraw his hand.

Draco saw but made no comment.

Then the Floo burst into life, making Harry jump, which in turn startled Draco. Snape came through first looking much calmer than before when they had headed to the headmaster’s office.

Draco stood looking between his father who had just entered and Snape. “Well, what happened?”

Lucius looked at him with a raised eyebrows. “Patience, Draco,” he said lightly.

Draco frowned and crossed his arms looking stubborn. Oddly enough, it was Snape that took pity on him. “Your parents have sworn an Unbreakable vow with Professor Dumbledore, promising their allegiance with him.”

Lucius now wore a slightly sour look and his half-lidded gaze found Harry watching him.

Arms falling limply to his sides, Draco gaped at them. “We’ve changed sides?”

Harry blinked in surprise. Had they really?

Narcissa nodded. “Your father can’t go back to the Dark Lord and the manor has been taken from us. Becoming neutral was not an option. Therefore, Professor Snape took us to the headmaster. We have found protection in return for us aiding his war effort.”

It was the most Harry had heard her say. Narcissa kept her tone friendly but factual. Near the end of her speech, she stepped over to Harry, who eyed her warily. He wished he knew where his wand was.

Slowly so that Harry would know she meant no harm, Narcissa held out her graceful hand. “I’m sorry to hear of what you have suffered, I hope you will regain your health in a timely manner,” she said without a trace of sarcasm or coldness in her voice.

It was obvious she could be dangerous. Her light blue eyes taking in details and assessing Harry in a way that made him feel unprotected. Now, though, her voice was warm and sounded sorrowful.

Cautiously, Harry lifted his hand and took Narcissa’s. Her grip was surprisingly strong, but not aggressive.

Slowly a smile came over her face. Not a full one with teeth showing, just slight, warm and content.

Narcissa’s hand was also surprisingly warm. Or maybe, Harry’s hands were just cold.

She patted his hand with her other hand before moving around the table to sit in one smooth motion. It seemed Draco got something from both his parents. Harry wondered how many pureblood children had parents like this.

“Will we live in the summerhouse?” Draco asked looking at the cobwebs in distaste. Snape saw and seemed to scowl and smirk at once, something Harry was sure only he could manage.

Lucius shook his head. “The Dark Lord knows the locations of many of our houses. Dumbledore said he would supply us with a boarding place until we can move back to a more familiar location.”

“Where will we be staying? Not here, I hope,” Draco said.

“This is Professor Snape’s home, Draco, he’s allowing us to stay here until arrangments are made. You should be grateful,” Narcissa said disapprovingly.

Harry swallowed and glanced at Snape to see his reaction. The man didn’t look concerned in the least.

“Forgive my rudeness, sir,” Draco said obediently. He glanced at Harry with a look that dared him to say anything.

Harry couldn’t comment, of course, but that didn’t stop him from smiling sweetly at Draco.

“There is nothing to forgive, Draco. If it was up to me this house would have been burned down long ago,” Snape said, coming over to Harry.

Harry couldn’t help the flinch as Snape raised his hand. Snape frowned and glanced at his face but continued to place his hand on Harry’s forehead.

“You have a fever, Potter,” he said. Harry could have told him that. The professor’s hand felt so cool against his forehead.

He was caught off balance when Snape pulled his hand away. Harry found he had been leaning on the callused hand. Straightening, Snape didn’t comment, although Harry felt a light blush on his own face. Although it may just have been the fever, Snape left the room and Harry was feeling slightly dizzy.

Lucius had sat beside his wife and was watching the proceedings going on around him with bored interest.

“Lay down, Potter,” Snape drawled as he came back in the room.

Harry didn’t argue and closed his burning eyes against the light.

A flask was held to his lips. “Drink it slowly,” Snape’s voice said from above him. Opening his eyes just wide enough to see the vial, Harry took it.

He warily sniffed the potion while tipping the bottle. He smelled herbs like sage, and rosemary. The smell brought back memories of cleaning Aunt Petunia’s small garden.

Harry grinned slightly. He could somehow taste the peppermint leaves he would snatch when he was sure no one would see.

What Harry recognized as Snape’s hand, came to rest on his heated brow. Later, Harry would not remember the soft sigh that passed his lips.

He would, however, remember the amused words of Draco. “You laced that with sleeping drought!”

From above him, Snape chuckled. “We need to move, Draco. Before we can do that, Potter must heal some more. The best way to heal is with sleep. Let him rest.”

Feeling comforted by the words and that hand still on his brow, Harry slept.