Harry's left leg was brutally broken but at least it was the only bone broken, he thought to himself wearily as he lay on the damp, cold, stone floor in the darkened cell. The rest of his body was a mass of bruises and cuts and his tender nerves spasmed with the after effects of the Cruciatus Curse.

The cell he was in was small, completely dark, and stank heavily of things he didn't care to think about. It was least offensive towards the center of the cell and that's where he'd crawled to when Bellatrix had thrown him into the darkness some time ago.

He tried to raise himself to a sitting position, for the third time since waking up after he'd passed out from the pain in front of Voldemort. Unfortunately his head swam as though his brain had been severely loosened from its moorings and if he tried to move it anymore, he was sure he'd black out, again. The spinning also threatened his stomach and although he'd already emptied his belly of the sweets and the lunch he'd eaten at Nereid Gardens, he didn't want the dry heaves. His chest hurt and he couldn't stand anymore violence to his body.

Curling up on his side he tried not to shiver from the cold. He couldn't stop the tremors from Bella's favorite curse, but those seemed more tolerable than shivering did. His robes were gone, his shirt and trousers were torn and soaked with his own filth and blood.

His hand curled tightly around the amulet his father had given him. The last thing he'd thought to do before he and Draco had left for the other courtyard was to cast a Disillusion Charm over it. He only hoped that Draco, if he was still in that circular chamber, would eventually be thrown in this cell with him. He'd seen Wormtail tear Draco's amulet from his neck.

The day on Fisherman's Wharf and then Nereid Gardens had been so perfect. Not even his dad seemed to know that they'd been watched all day long. The moment Harry and Draco decided it might be fun to go off by themselves, and be safe, Harry had just pocketed his wand when a heavy, Patchouli Musk scented arm wrapped itself around his neck and a wand at his throat was followed by a spell that froze his vocal chords. The cackling in his ear, and the crooning of 'ickle Potter-kins' told him that Bellatrix had a firm grip on him. A scream of pain, and the laughter of Lucius told him that his brother was in trouble as well.

In the blink of an eye both he and Draco were thrown at the feet of a monstrous, snake-like man...

NO! He could not see those eyes again. He closed his eyes against the darkness and just before the heaviness of sleep swept over him, he felt a gentle hissing deep within his mind.

Kalima? he spoke softly across their mental connection and began to weep at the familiar comfort of the Naga touching his mind.

No tearsss, young egg. Be ssstrong.

Mum. Dad. Do they know?

Yesss child. I have been trying to touch your thoughtsss for a long time. Are you badly hurt?

Tears sprang to Harry's eyes, but he did his best to push them away as he replied. My legsss broken. I can't sssit up.

Where isss your brother egg, child?

Draco'sss in the chamber... I think. Luciusss hasss him.

He couldn't stop the tears now, not when the image of his brother being beaten and cursed by Lucius Malfoy invaded his mind. Draco's screams would be in his nightmares forever.

Hush child! Kalima's sibilant voice felt harsh in his mind. I know you are afraid, but you mussst calm yourssself.

There was a clanging of metal and for a brief moment bright light pierced Harry's cell as the narrow door opened. Something heavy, wet, and horribly mushy sounding fell to the floor near him and he turned slightly to see the hideous, angelic silouhette of Lucius Malfoy haloed in the doorframe.

"Do what you will with him, Potter," sneered the wizard of ice. "It won't matter."

The door slammed shut with a mighty ringing noise that hurt his ears. Kalima was still talking in his mind, but he ignored her as he shuffled toward what he now knew was Draco's body. Stretching out his hand, he felt something wet and sticky. Draco moaned so piteously it came close to tearing Harry's heart in half.

"Draco!" he whispered softly. "I'm here. You're with me." Ignoring what he knew to be blood and his own nausea, he forced himself to a sitting position and pulled the boy into his arms. Draco felt like a rag doll stuffed with rocks.

Kalima, I have Draco. Asssk dad if it'sss sssafe to ussse the portkey.

It felt like hours before the Naga answered and when she did it was one simple, blessed word that made Harry catch at a sob that threatened to burn his throat.

Yesss.

Ignoring Draco's moans at his pain, Harry pulled his brother tighter against his chest, found the boy's hand and tried not to panic as he felt the fingers tightening spasmodically around something. Taking a shuddery breath, and holding it as footsteps thumped towards the cell, he grabbed his brother's other hand and held it so his fingers touched the small amulet. Harry used the last bit of energy he had to search for and tap into a Ley Line. Saying a small prayer that this would work without a wand, he whispered to the emergency portkey.

"My room, Billeghdonn Manor."

Harry hobbled around the hospital rather quickly. He was nearly healed with the exception of his leg which had been more than broken; the bone had been fractured in a dozen places from hip to ankle. A single dose of Skele-Gro would not work as the pain would be agonising for such an injury over a twenty-four hour period. Two orthopedic Healers had been consulted and at one point, Harry had been terrified he might actually lose his leg.

It was his father's re-formulation of Skele-Gro, the Bone Regrowth Potion, that made the Healers wait on an amputation.

Harry's leg was supported by a leg brace and at night he'd take a small dose of the Bone Regrowth Potion. In the morning he'd take the Bone Strengthening Potion. It wasn't a comfortable recovery, but the pain was nowhere near what it could have been, and his leg wasn't amputated.

For two weeks Harry was closely monitored by his family, friends, and his Healers at the prestigious American Magical Hospital, San Asclepius. By the end of the second week Harry was able to take his first awkward steps on his leg still encased within its brace. It was a bittersweet celebration since Draco had not yet regained consciousness.

Draco had been nearly beaten to death by Lucius Malfoy and had suffered numerous broken bones and internal injuries. On top of that, a curse had hindered healing and it took a team of Healers to finally break the curse. The head of the team, Healer Aubrey Tannis, then placed the young wizard into a healing coma. Draco had been brought out of the coma the day after Harry's uncelebrated birthday, yet after a week Draco had not yet wakened from his natural sleep.

Snape had practically taken up residence in Draco's hospital room. He read to the boy, talked to him, and slept in a small, uncomfortable cot by his bedside at night. Harry, Lyrica, Hermione, and Ron took turns relieving Snape's vigil so he could eat, shower, and change into fresh clothing.

One afternoon the older wizard had returned to Draco's room after lunch to find Hermione beside the younger wizard. She had been reading to him when Snape had left, but he found her with her head on Draco's chest weeping silently and begging the Slytherin teenager to wake up.

After watching quietly for a few minutes, he walked into the hospital room, widened the chair Hermione had conjured, and drew her into his embrace and quietly calmed the distraught Gryffindor girl and wiped away her tears.

"Why are you crying, my brave Gryffindor?" he asked with a gentle smirk at the corner of his mouth.

"I'm not brave at all, Uncle Severus," she sniffled and dabbed at her tears with the handkerchief he'd given her.

"Of course you are, Hermione. Don't forget, you stopped much of the bleeding Draco was suffering from by your use of Muggle First Aid techniques. You saved his life and gave us and the Healers the time they needed. Very brave, I'd say." He pushed a curl of her hair out of her eye and tapped her cheek lightly with his fingertips.

"But I'm so afraid for him. I don't want to lose him."

"We will not lose, Draco, my dear. Healer Tannis says that all his injuries have healed well..."

"Then why doesn't he wake?" she demanded. "I'm sorry," she softened her voice.

"It's a question we all want the answer to, but that answer is not a simple one. Draco suffered a terrible trauma, not just physically, but mentally as well."

"Are you able to Legilimens him?" she asked delicately.

"I have. His mind is not gone, but he is afraid."

Hermione leaned towards the sleeping young man and took his limp hand in hers. "Does he know we're here?"

Snape nodded, but seeing that she hadn't seen the gesture he replied, "He does. For now, though, he needs the safety that his mind offers and we'll allow it. If Draco refuses to wake on his own, though, I will start drawing him out next week." He rested an assuring hand upon Hermione's shoulder. "He will recover, little Know-it-all. Now, why don't you read some more of Peter Pan to him while I take a short walk?"

Hermione smiled and kissed Snape's cheek. "Thank you, Uncle."

Rising to his feet, he bestowed a kiss on Hermione's forehead and left the room.

It was rocky, grey, and the sky was dark as if ready for a storm to break. All was silent, though, across the forbidding landscape. One lone figure, pale-skinned with grey eyes that matched the wisps of clouds overhead, and nearly white-blonde hair to his shoulders, walked along the razor cut edge of a cliff that fell away into a roiling maelstrom of nothingness.

"Draco!"

The young man's slight frame turned at the sound of his name and watched as a tall figure in black strode across the slate grey landscape towards him. Draco's figure changed until he was no taller than a three year old. Dressed in dark green velvet dress robes, his hair was now short and perfectly slicked back from his cherubic face. A smile of pure joy broke the solemn nature of his face and he dashed towards the tall figure that had frightened many a Death Eater.

"Daddy!" Draco was scooped up by the man in the black robes who kissed his cheeks, but did not smile. Draco could see the man's smile in his ever-black eyes, though. He threw his little arms around the man's neck and kissed his cheek. "I missed you," he whispered.

"I have never been far from you, child," Severus spoke softly as he held the young Draco in his arms. "Do you remember me now?"

Draco nodded and smiled shyly. "You're Daddy."

"And him?" Severus pointed towards a ghostly figure, also tall and dressed in pristine, white robes. This figure's grey-blue eyes pierced the many shades of grey landscape angrily and tried to move towards them, but was stuck in place.

Draco trembled in Severus' arms and tightened his hold on his father as he looked at the angry man. "He's nothing. Will you take me home, Daddy?"

"I will take you home anytime you are ready, Draco. Are you still afraid?"

Tiny, crystal tears dropped to his cheeks. "I keep hearing screams and there is red... only red in my nightmares."

"Please don't cry, my Little Dragon." The small child pushed his face into Severus' chest trying not to cry, but he couldn't stop the tears. Severus spoke soft, nonsense words as he gently patted Draco's back. When the sobs were faint hiccups he pulled the reddened face a little away from his chest and began to clean the little boy's face with a soft cloth. "Better now?" Draco nodded. "Will you come away with me today, then?"

"Can I stay small, Daddy?" he asked plaintively.

Severus shook his head. "I'm sorry, but you know you're not small anymore. You'll be sixteen soon."

Draco tugged on his father's collar until his mouth was close to Severus' ear. "If I'm big, you won't kiss me or hold me anymore."

"Idiot child," he admonished teasingly. "Of course I will. You're my son and I will have kisses and hugs for you even when you're old and wrinkled."

Draco laughed. He slipped from Severus' arms and quickly began to grow until he was almost up to his father's shoulder. Severus put his arm around the thin shoulders and pulled the young boy to his side. For a brief moment they looked out across the bleak landscape towards the angry ghost of Lucius Malfoy.

"I am sorry that I was unable to prevent what he did to you, Draco. I wish that I could promise you that it won't happen again, but unless the Dark Lord punished him so severely that he died..."

Draco slipped an arm around his father's back so he could move closer to the older wizard. "He's still alive, Dad."

"Then I can only do my best to keep you and your brother safe. Should I ever encounter Lucius before the final battle, I swear to you, I will kill him."

With his other hand, he brushed a pale lock of straight hair from his son's eyes and leaned over to kiss Draco's smooth forehead.

Draco watched as the ghost of the elder Malfoy vanished as it was broken up by gusts of wind from the nothingness. "Dad, I think I'm ready to come home, now. How do I...?"

"You're only asleep, Draco. All you need do is to wake up. Trust me, Little Dragon. I'll be waiting for you."

Severus drew Draco tightly into his embrace and Draco hugged his father back firmly. A few minutes later, Severus faded away as he left the young wizard's mind.

Draco's eyes slowly blinked open and he stirred beneath the covers on his hospital bed. He felt someone holding onto his hand and looked to his left to see his father, Severus Snape, seated next to his bed.

"Dad," he croaked and coughed harshly. Snape stood to conjure a glass of cool water for his son. He drank the water down and quietly asked, "Is Harry all right?"

"He's fine. His leg has a little more healing to do, but then he'll be ready to race you and Ron on your brooms."

"How long have I been asleep?"

"Almost four weeks. It's August 18th today."

Draco stared at the window that looked out through the tops of some very tall trees. He then turned to see a small figure on a broom whizzing about over the bedside table. Snape deftly caught the tiny Slytherin Quidditch player out of the air and held it out to his son. Draco's face relaxed and broke into a very child-like and somewhat shy smile as he held onto the figure carefully.

"That fell from your hand after you were put into the healing coma," Snape explained. When the healer had brought him the little figure and told him that they had not been able to make Draco let go of it until he was in the relaxed sleep of the coma, he had been embarassed by the tears that had threatened.

Snape had hated the little figures when he'd first heard about them. The 1972 year teams of Hogwarts had been issued almost two years ago. He'd bought every single one he possibly could and burned them. He would never have guessed that the figures would have been sold overseas. Knowing that Draco had held the figure in his hand all while his real father practically beat and tortured him to death, touched something very deep within his soul.

Draco breathed a little jerkily just as tears glistened at the corners of his eyes. "It's dumb, but I felt like you were with me so I couldn't let it go. It made everything he did... bearable." He sniffed, rolled his eyes, grinned smugly and let the tiny figure of young Severus Snape go so he could fly again.

"Would you like to see Hermione?" asked Snape after they had watched the figure flying for several minutes.

Draco's face brightened and he nodded. Snape rose to his feet, opened the door of the room, and was soon ushering Hermione inside. She rushed over to Draco and began showering his face with kisses. Before he might witness sentimental affection he didn't wish to witness as a parent, Snape slipped out into the corridor where the rest of his family waited.

"He's awake?" asked Lyrica quietly. Snape nodded and she threw her arms around her husband in relief. He kissed the top of her head.

"We'll give Hermione and Draco a few minutes, then you can go in next, Ron. Harry, I'll be with you both when you visit, all right?"

"Sure, Dad," he agreed softly. He wanted to see Draco, but at the same time he was nervous about seeing his brother.

Snape had dictated ten minutes for Hermione, Ron, and Lyrica. He expected Harry might need more time before exhaustion would take Draco over and steal him away for the night.

Ron's visit was quick and whatever they had to catch up on had Draco laughing so much that Snape cut the visit short. He didn't want the boy to tire out too soon.

Lyrica was caught off guard when she entered her son's hospital room and he suddenly began weeping. Draco, deep down felt mortified over the sissy tears, but he felt immediately safe when his mother quickly enveloped him in a Verbena & Honeysuckle scented embrace. He ached slightly for his real mother, but not very much since he recalled she had yet to reply to the letter he'd written several months ago.

Lyrica sat down beside Draco and brushed his lengthening hair out of his eyes. "How long do you think you'll let your hair grow?" As random as the topic seemed, she'd chosen it purposefully so that Draco wouldn't feel pressured into talking about anything he didn't want to.

"Is it messy looking?" he asked tugging at a lock behind his ear.

His mother gave the blonde hair a critical once over. "It is in need of a proper trim. Would you like to take care of that after you get home?"

Draco nodded and then leaned against Lyrica as he stared out the window at the redwood trees. "How could he hate me so much?" he asked very softly.

Lyrica carded her fingers through his hair and replied candidly, "A man cannot love another if he has no sense of his own worth. He punishes you for his own perceived weaknesses, his lack of worth."

"I don't want to ever be him, mum, but I want to... to... kill him. I hate him so very much!"

"He hurt you, my dear." Lyrica kissed his cheek. "You are allowed to hate, but only for a little while. You will eventually hurt yourself and those you love by nurturing such hate."

"Then how do I get away from it?"

She touched her hand to his heart. "By leaning on your family. By treasuring the love you have for Hermione."

He smirked. "That sounds a bit Hufflepuff, mum."

Lyrica chuckled and put a finger to her lips. "Let's keep that to ourselves, shall we?"

She left her son's room and nodded briefly to her husband and then to Harry. Putting his hand in the middle of Harry's back, Snape ushered him inside.

Draco saw the metal brace on Harry's leg and the smile he had on his face faltered slightly. Harry hobbled quickly over to his brother and grabbed his hands. His own smile brightened the room.

"Hey, Goldilocks. I've missed arguing with you."

Draco managed a brief smirk. "I think you annoyed me in my dreams, Scarhead." He gripped Harry's hands tightly and then he frowned. "Do you have to wear that all the time?" he indicated with a nod of his head towards the brace.

Harry let go of Draco and stepped back a bit. "Another week, I think. It's been a hassle, but Bella really trashed my leg."

"Bitch," muttered Draco who immediately shot his father a worried look. Snape made no sign that he objected to the short description of the insane witch that had tortured Harry.

There was a long, awkward silence between the two boys and Harry began to stammer, "Draco, I wish... I tried..."

Draco's cheeks blushed sharply as tears rose to his eyes and he forced them back. "It's... Harry, we never had... a chance."

"Yes, you did," Snape interjected firmly. "And Harry took it when Lucius made the grave error of putting you into the same cell as your brother. Neither of you need offer the other apologies. You are both safe, whole, and alive."

Harry and Draco looked at each other and smiled grimly. Draco then looked to his father, "Dad, I think Lucius has our wands."

"I've contacted a wandmaker from Neried Gardens who will meet us here tomorrow before you're discharged so we can replace your wands," replied Snape as he seated himself in the chair he'd practically lived in during Draco's recovery. "I doubt very much that Lucius kept them. No doubt they're broken by now."

"I never liked mine," said Draco with some satisfaction. "It belonged to my grandfather."

"Mine had a feather from Fawkes as its core," said Harry wistfully.

"I missed your birthday, Harry," Draco sighed sadly.

Harry shrugged and shook his head. "We didn't celebrate. Too worried about you, I guess." He smirked and his green eyes sparkled. "Mum's arranged a party at Grimmauld Place once you're released from hospital. Luna, Milli, Neville, and Pansy have been invited."

"Cool! You're really going to make out with lots of presents!"

"I hardly think that's important, Draco," said their father dryly from his chair.

Harry laughed. "It's fine, but I really want to see Luna."

Draco suddenly was trying to stifle a tell-tale yawn. Snape saw the yawn, but gave the boys a few more minutes before he finally ushered Harry out of Draco's room. When Harry was on the other side of the door, Snape stepped over to Draco and leaned over surprising the sleepy teenager with a gentle embrace of his shoulders.

"You're never going to be too old for kisses and hugs, my son," Snape whispered.

Draco reddened and then smirked. "You realise, Dad, that if any of your students heard you say that, they'd wonder if you're a Polyjuiced, emotional Gryffindor."

A corner of Snape's mouth lifted and his gaze hardened, "Which is why, if ever you tell anyone, I'll be sure to hang you from the Astronomy Tower by your thumbs and take 500 points from Slytherin."

Draco guffawed and slid down on his bed until he could pull his blankets up to his chin. "Love you, too, Dad."