Just For Now by MarieLewis

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Chapter 6 - Mothers and Sons I

July 30, 1996

Harry blinked, snapping himself back to the present. Cold water seeped through his mismatched socks, odd, he thought, I hadn't noticed they weren't the same when I put them on.

The wetness in his socks dried abruptly, and the glass on the carpet righted itself and rose, whizzing past Harry, dropping on the glass coffee table beside the sofa with a soft "plink". Harry raised his eyes, wiggling his toes in his now crispy-warm socks.

"Harry?" Remus was watching him, an all too knowing expression on his scarred face.

Harry shifted in his seat, damning himself for acting like such an idiot. "Sorry, I lost my grip." He tried not to wince as his face heated.

He could hear Dumbledore and Aunt Petunia, talking about him again. Dumbledore was saying things like 'muggle and magical treatments' and 'plausible options' , but mostly, Harry tuned them out. Dudley had returned from the dining room, and, to Harry's surprise, had seated himself right next to him. Harry sighed inaudibly, very aware that Remus was still scrutinizing him, it would seem that his time with Aunt Petunia and Dudley would soon come to an end.

Well, not really an end, it just wouldn't be bearable any longer. Uncle Vernon was to return from his business trip, and surely that meant his aunt and cousin would go back to being their old nasty selves. A most curious feeling bloomed in Harry's chest, almost like what he'd felt after accepting Sirius was gone. Almost.

Loss.

That's what it was. Harry would have snorted, but decided drawing attention to himself was not worth it. Ridiculous, he was sad to lose the new Aunt Petunia and Dudley. And he hadn't even had much time with them. But, he supposed, it wasn't completely unnatural, who wouldn't miss having relatives that actually treated you like a human being.

Harry slumped in his seat, oblivious to the fact that Dudley was actually attempting to have a conversation with his former Professor. It was not often when Harry let his relatives get to him, he hadn't let anything they did affect him too much, not since he'd started Hogwarts.

It bothered Harry, and it bothered Harry that the Dursleys bothered him at all.

"-dinner."

Harry jerked his head around, catching the last of his aunt's words.

"Ah, no, I'm afraid not Mrs. Dursley, and I do believe Remus and I have imposed on you for far too long. I thank you for your hospitality." Dumbledore said, nodding his head benignly as he rose from his seat beside Harry. Remus, Harry, Dudley, and Aunt Petunia stood as well, the latter two standing awkwardly to the side.

Harry dropped the conjured purple blanket from his shoulders, stretching his arms above his head. He brought them down with a shiver, goosebumps rising on the skin of his stomach when his shirt lifted enough to expose it. With a yawn, he showed the Headmaster and Remus through the entryway.

Just as they reached the door Dumbledore stopped, and reaching into the pocket of his robes, withdrew a very thick looking letter. "Your O.W.L. results." He said, placing the missive in Harry's hands. "I dare say one of the school owls will be quite happy to be spared the three day journey."

Harry stared at Dumbledore, his mouth agape, and his letter dangling from numb fingers. Remus chuckled and Harry snapped his mouth shut, colour rising in his cheeks. "Thanks Professor," he muttered, shoving his results into his back pocket.

Dumbledore pat his shoulder kindly, "I shall see you soon, my boy. Everything will unfold in due time." And with that the Headmaster turned on the front step, apparating away with barely a "pop" to signify his departure.

Harry stared at the spot his Professor had just disappeared from, if that was another wizard travel, he had never seen it before. Hopefully it was better then portkeying or flooing.

"I'll be seeing you soon too, Harry." said Remus, drawing Harry's attention away from the doorway, "I can't return tomorrow, but perhaps I might visit you later on, and celebrate your birthday at a later date?"

For a moment Harry stared at Remus, shock written all over his face, before it was erased and replaced with a jubilant expression. "I- sure! Well, I have to check with my Aunt and Uncle, but that sounds great, Pro- Remus." Harry grinned, a genuinely happy bubble bobbed around in his chest. The happiest he'd felt since the fiasco at the Ministry. It wasn't much, but it was something.

Remus chuckled, "Then I'll see you then. Now I really must be going, and do take care of yourself, Harry." Remus pat Harry on the shoulder, before he too twirled and disappeared, producing a much louder crack than the Headmaster before him.

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore was pacing.

In his study, -painfully aware that he did that a lot-.

But this time, Albus Dumbledore's pacing resulted to more then whimsical ideas and sudden strokes of brilliance. Today his pacing brought back memories.

This very study was the one that Harry James Potter had attempted to rip to shreds just last year. This same study that Harry James Potter had sat in and relayed the tale of Voldemort's rebirth.

It was almost too good to believe, and there was only one way to know for certain.

Albus crossed the length of floor to the floo powder, and throwing a hand full into the fireplace, he called, "Severus Snape's Quarters!"

Severus had just conveniently forgot to put the actual healing aide into the Dark Lord's Pepper-Up potion when he heard it. Albus' voice, calling him from the floo. Severus repressed an irritated sigh, simply settling for annoyed scowl.

"What is it, Albus?" he asked upon arrival, one arm crossing over the other.

"Severus, I require your presence in my office. Will you step through?"

The Headmaster had posed it as a question, but his tone brooked no argument. "I shall be there in a moment, allow me to set a stasis charm on a potion." Severus turned on his heel and returned to his lab, the whoosh of the floo sound behind him signaled Dumbledore's departure.

What on earth could be so blessed important. There hadn't been a Death Eater meeting the night before. Just the Dark Lord telling him that he required a Pepper-Up for his sudden illness. A cold, or something of the like.

Only the Malfoys and he had been there. And the former only because it was their manor in which the Dark Lord resided.

He had not heard of a death within the Order, or a muggle raid from the Death Eaters, perhaps Albus had discovered something completely off the charts. Severus refused to think of the possibilities. If the Dark Lord had any more hidden forces... Merlin save them.

Stasis spell effectively placed, Severus inhaled deeply and flooed to Albus' office, mentally preparing himself for what he was sure to be, yet another, jarring discovery.

July 31, 1996

Harry groaned irritatedly, rolling over in his bed and tugging the pillow over his head. Sunlight streamed through his bedroom window, making it obvious to Harry that it was already late in the morning.

Harry burrowed deeper into his covers, trying to hang onto the last vestiges of sleep, but they slipped through his fingers. He sat up with a huff, his pillow dropping to the floor beside him. It was hopeless to try getting back to sleep now, not with the bloody sun shining straight into his face. Harry swung his legs over the side of the bed, opening his mouth to breath properly.

"Bloody stuffy nose," he muttered to himself, stumbling out of the bedroom door to get to the loo. At least his headache had abated, though it was probably due to the aspirin Aunt Petunia had given him after dinner the night before.

Night before.. It was the next day! And that meant Uncle Vernon was due to be picked up at four. Harry scowled as he entered the loo, Uncle sodding Vernon, just what he needed. Harry paused, casting a deliberative glance between the shower and the sink. He felt sweaty, and the hot water from the shower might help him feel a bit better... he opted for the shower.

Twenty minutes later, Harry was patiently awaiting Uncle Vernon's blustery ire. He buttered his toast silently, the clinking and murmurs from his Aunt and Cousin's side of the table, completely ignored. He didn't need them. They had never wanted him. And whatever sick charade they were putting up would end the moment Vernon Dursley walked through the front door.

Harry cut a piece of his egg with his fork, resolutely avoiding the pale grey eyes that peered at him from across the table.

He didn't need them, and they had never wanted him. Harry could live with that... He could.

Suddenly feeling like he would sick up if he ate another bite, Harry pushed himself away from the table with a murmured excuse. He kept his head down as he turned for the stairs, and in doing so, he missed the confused glance that passed between Aunt Petunia and Dudley.

Up in his room, Harry realised something; today was his birthday. He couldn't understand how he'd forgotten. He usually stayed up...

Oh, that was why. Aunt Petunia's pain relievers had put him straight to sleep. Harry fingered the packages and letters on his desk on his desk, not quite sure how the owls had even gotten through the window, he was certain he'd closed it last night. Harry glanced at Hedwig's cage, it was empty, and the little door stood open. Someone had let her out.

He turned back to the window, it was open. Harry's breathing quickened. Someone had been in his room. They had touched his bird. Opened the window. And now Hedwig was missing.

All sense of rationality deserted him.

Harry sat down hard in the chair in front of his desk. His heart beating in his throat. The window was open, maybe they had come in through the window... But why would they take Hedwig? So distracted was he, he did not notice the white blur from afar, nor did he see it when the blur became a brilliant snowy owl with a frog in its beak.

Harry attempted to calm his breathing, he was being ridiculous, he knew, but the thought of losing Hedwig... He shuddered and pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes before dragging his fingers through his hair.

Hedwig was fine. She probably just wanted to stretch her wings. Maybe he hadn't closed the window the night before, yeah, that was it, he hadn't closed the window. Simple.

A muffled, hooting sound extracted him from his inner monologue. Harry raised his head. "Hedwig!" he exclaimed, jumping up and knocking his chair over in the process. He pushed the window wider, allowing Hedwig to fly through.

Harry followed her to the still open cage, watching as she flew inside, and landed gracefully on the perch, dropping her to the cage floor below. Hedwig blinked at him, large, amber eyes regarding him carefully.

"I thought I'd lost you," he murmured, extending an arm to pet her through the cage opening. "Silly of me, I know."

He drew the pads of his fingers over her feathers, "But then, can you blame me? If I had lost you, who would keep me company while I'm stuck here, eh?" Hedwig hooted, quirking her neck and peering at him side ways.

"Right."

Harry returned to the presents on his desk. Already he could see Ron's untidy scrawl and Hermione's neat practised cursive. Something warm settled in his chest.

Dear Harry,

Happy Birthday! How are you? And the Dursleys? I hope they're treating you well.

I wasn't quite sure how to get this to you, but Ron had just sent me a letter with Errol so I sent it to him to send it to you.

I really should get an owl.

Otherwise communicating during the summer is rather hard. Anyway, I hope you like the present! I stumbled across it when I was out shopping with Mum. I thought it suited you well.

Love From,

Hermione

Harry grinned happily, and opened the package with Hermione's handwriting on the top. To Harry's surprise his friend had departed from her usual tradition, and had not given him a book. Instead, grey material slid from the wrapping paper and landed on his lap, Harry lifted the cloth curiously, "Well done, Hermione," he muttered under his breath, and it was very well done of her indeed. She had sent him a grey t-shirt with a sea blue color lining the sleeve holes and neckline. It was even his size.

Harry smiled happily and setting the shirt aside, he pulled parchment, a quill, and an inkwell from his desk drawer to reply to Hermione.

Next Harry opened his gift from Ron, which was accompanied by a small note that read:

Happy Birthday Mate!

Hope the muggles aren't too bad. Mum says you can come stay with us as soon as Dumbledore says it's alright. Hope you like the gift! Fred and George payed me for working at their shop, and I saw these in a muggle sweet shop in London. Some sort of wonky looking licorice. Tastes alright though! Oh, and the cakes and sweets are from Mum and Ginny, they made them all last night. Mum says she doesn't think the Dursleys feed you enough. She won't be happy until you're wobbling instead of walking. See you soon!

-Ron

So Fred and George's shop was a success, it had to be if they could afford to hire Ron already, all the same, Harry wasn't surprised, the twins were brilliant. Inside the wrapping paper, Harry found a tin full of red licorice, mince pies, and a small birthday cake already cut into triangle shaped slices. Still feeling full from breakfast, (which was an experience in itself), Harry swiped his forefinger through the white frosting covering the top of the cake before setting it aside for later. He wrote out a thank-you note for the Weasleys as well.

Next he found first-rate Owl Treats from Hagrid, a leather wand holster from Remus, and - surprisingly- a note from Dumbledore bearing well-wishes and a promise to visit that day. Harry sent heart felt replies to them all.

A little while later a knock on the door distracted Harry from his licorice chewing, "Er, come in?" He wasn't quite sure how to respond, no one at Number Four, Privet Drive had ever knocked before entering. They usually just barged in. Harry sat up on his bed, cramming the last of his licorice into his mouth just in case it was Dudley.

It wasn't.

Aunt Petunia stood in his doorway, wringing her hands, and looking very much like she had gotten lost on her way to the loo. "I, erm..." Harry watched with raised brows as she struggled for words, unconsciously sliding his tin of sweets further behind his back.

"Did you need something, Aunt Petunia?" he asked, and, to his surprise, he actually wanted to know. Aunt Petunia seemed to steady her resolve, and Harry watched torn between amusement and confusion.

"I just wanted to let you know we will be leaving a bit early today, I'd like to make some stops before we pick up Vernon," she said, the bones showing in her horsey neck bobbed up and down as she swallowed.

Harry's stomach wriggled unpleasantly.

So she had come up here to gloat about how she and Dudley were going places while he, Harry stayed home and wallowed in self-pity on his own birthday?

Like he had on all his other birthdays with the Dursleys?

Harry clenched his fists, he was tiring of Aunt Petunia's game, and if it didn't end soon he was going to spontaneously combust!

"Fine." He bit out before turning away from his aunt entirely, and laying on his side facing the sickly peach colored wall.

A minute passed, two. Then, "Oh! I didn't- No, I only meant... Oh dear, I wanted you to know you were coming with us, and that we were leaving a bit earlier than we would have if... I just thought I'd let you know to get ready a bit sooner."

Harry turned over in surprise, and misjudging the position of his body, fell from the bed with a resounding thud. Harry groaned, if his back had been sore before, it was nothing compared to the thrumming pain he now had in his left hip.

Aunt Petunia rushed forward, her bony arms snaking though his and around his back. She hefted him to a sitting position, then pulled him to his feet and seated him back on the bed. "Are you all right? You-"

But Aunt Petunia stopped speaking when Harry lifted his shirt above his hips, and craned his neck to peer at his left side. "Urgh." Already, a bruise was forming, a horrible purple-ish bruise that looked deep and felt painful.

"Oh my, Oh, oh!" Aunt Petunia was practically gasping for air beside him. Perhaps all those fits and dramatic episodes his aunt had thrown whenever something happened to Dudley were more real than he'd imagined.

Harry ignored the warm feeling in his chest. It was ridiculous to feel pleased over something like that. Aunt Petunia didn't care about him. Not one stitch. And Harry didn't feel as though entertaining the possibility that she might would do him any good.

"It's fine, just a bruise," he said, dropping his shirt and pretending that his hip wasn't throbbing in time with his heart beat. Aunt Petunia recovered herself quickly and stopped clutching at her neck, "I'll just get some ice for you," she said, rising to her feet once more. Harry sat frozen for a moment before he regained the ability to speak. "Thanks," he said. And he meant it.

0o0o0o0

Draco sat behind one of the marble pillars that stood beside the grand staircase within Malfoy Manor. His breath hitching in his chest with every other inhale of oxygen. His parents were fighting again... Well, not fighting, having a disagreement in hushed tones, as though they were afraid the very walls would tell the world of their actions.

Draco wrapped his arms tightly around his knees, one pale cheek resting against the trouser clad joints. They were talking about him, or at least, the mess he was in.

The Dark Lord had called Father to him the night before, and Draco had been informed that he was to accompany Father to the next Death Eater meeting. To prove his worth.

It made him sick to his stomach.

And no amount of begging had swayed his Father's decision.

Decision. Draco scoffed in quiet scorn.

Once, he had thought his father to be the epitome of power. And now. . .he was a mere slave to a wizard who was barely a man. And barely a wizard either, if the rumors were true and the Dark Lord truly was a half-blood. It sickened Draco, the very thought. His father, the man who had the Ministry in the pocket of his robes, and wizards and muggles alike sniveling at his feet, grovelled on his belly every time the tattoo on his arm burned.

Once, Draco had believed that tattoo was a sign of power and honour. But he knew what it was now, a mark, burned into the skin, a sign of slavery...and weakness.

Lucius Malfoy was a man ruled by fear. As was every other man in service to the Dark Lord.

The voices in the dining room rose in pitch, and Draco squeezed his eyes shut as his Mother's somewhat shrill tone filtered through the small crack between the double doors.

"I cannot lose my son! He does not wish to accompany him! Explain to the Dark Lord, tell him Draco is too young, tell him-"

"Tell him what? That our son is a coward! That he has not the strength to fulfill his duties!"

"His duties! It was you who failed him! It is because of you that we are punished! It is you who is at fault and you alone! Your family suffers the consequences of your-"

There was a loud smacking noise, the unmistakable sound of flesh hitting flesh, and Draco leaped to his feet, his heart pounding in his throat. He stood beside the pillar, frozen in shock, one thought sliding through his mind.

No!

Draco forced his legs to move, one foot in front of the other his pace quickening as his body registered the urgency of the situation. Unconsciously his hand slipped into his trouser pocket, and he drew his wand, clutching it tightly.

He shoved both of the heavy doors wide open.

Long ago, Draco had learned how wrong it was to physically strike a woman, and that hexing and jinxing, while impolite, were not considered in the same context. Almost three years ago, when Hermione Granger had socked him a good one on the cheek, Draco had discovered that if a woman physically struck a man, it was no scandal or serious offense.

And today, Draco prayed it was his Mother who had struck his Father and not vice versa, but even as he wished, he knew it was a fruitless effort.

Narcissa Malfoy stood in the centre of an extravagant dining room her right side to Draco and her body angled to the left. One delicate hand rest upon her right cheek, covering up an angry red hand print that just barely peeked out from between trembling fingers.

Blood was roaring in Draco's ears, he couldn't think, couldn't move. His Father had struck his Mother.

Slapped her across the face. Bruised her.

And there he stood, hand still raised, a murderous expression marring his features.

Cotton seemed to fill Draco's brain, rendering him useless. A tiny sob penetrated the thick silence.

A sharp intake of breath.

And his Father retreated, his raised hand lowering slowly.

The fog cleared from Draco's mind, and he stepped further into the room. "Mother?" He whispered weakly, his voice cracking with anxiety.

His legs regained feeling, and he rushed forward, gripping his Mother by the arms and whirling her around to face him, completely ignoring his Father.

"Are you all right? Let me..."

Draco's voice trembled pitifully as he spoke, but he ignored it and pulled Narcissa's hand from her face.

"I- I am fine, Draco, I-" Narcissa's voice quivered then petered out when Draco touched the back of his fingers to her cheek. The tops of his nails skimming over his Father's hand print. Draco shut his eyes, bile rising in his throat. "Mother..." he whispered again. Narcissa reached out to hug her son, but Draco stepped away, turning slowly to face his Father.

His wand arm rose automatically, though it trembled violently and he nearly dropped his wand. Draco stood his ground.

"You hurt her," he said, barely able to believe it himself, but the red mark on his Mother's face robbed him of blissful denial.

Draco watched as his Father's features went from mild shock to hardened anger, and before he could react, Lucius had grabbed him by the wrist and twisted his arm until the slim stick of hawthorn slipped from his now numb fingers.

Draco tried not to moan as pain shot up his arm. "Let me go," he said, just barely containing a frightened whimper.

Something changed in Lucius' pale grey eyes and instead of releasing his son, he gripped by the upper arm.

"You shall do as you're told, Draco, and uphold the family honour." He hissed, the hand wrapped around Draco's bicep tightening painfully. "Father, you're hurting me," said Draco through gritted teeth.

The maniac gleam in his Father's eye became more pronounced, and if he could have, he would have recoiled. "Lucius! Lucius let him go! You're hurting him... You're hurting your son!" Narcissa lunged forward pulling at her husband's arm, but her efforts were for naught. Lucius used his free hand to grab her as well.

"Come, Narcissa, watch your son assume his duties."

And with that Lucius Malfoy dragged his wife and son from the room and out of the house, disapparating from Malfoy Manor with a loud crack.

0o0o0o0

Two hours after the scene in the bedroom, Harry found himself buckled into the front seat of Vernon Dursley's company car, his new shirt crinkling against his back as he shifted uncomfortably.

"Erm, where are we going, exactly?" Harry shifted again, the seat belt across his waist and chest, expanding and retracting as he moved.

Aunt Petunia glanced at him for a second, then turned her eyes back to the road. She looked nervous, Harry thought, raising his head a bit to peer into the review mirror, Dudley looked nervous too.

"I thought we'd go out to lunch, I passed by a nice place the other day," said Aunt Petunia, cutting a sideways glance at him, her fingers squeezing the steering wheel. "It's closer to London than to Surrey, but we have to meet Vernon at Kings Cross anyway." She added, turning the steering wheel to the left as the light switched from red to green.

Harry's stomach did a funny little flop. Kings Cross Station. Merlin, how he wished he was back on the train to Hogwarts. This whole stupid, confusing, frustrating summer behind him. But alas, it was not yet September 1st. And further more, Harry wasn't even supposed to be away from the house.

He'd forgotten Dumbledore said that, but maybe Dumbledore knew he might leave. After all, Aunt Petunia had said Uncle Vernon was coming in today. And the Headmaster had no reason to believe that Harry's Aunt and cousin wouldn't bring him along with them.

Despite his self assurances, Harry still felt more than a little uneasy, and it didn't help that his scar had begun tingling not long after they had left the house.

He just hoped they got back soon.

Not much later Aunt Petunia parked beside a semi-crowded side walk a ways away from a tall tan brick building with huge glass windows that read Spaghetti House in large white letters against a red setting.

Harry unbuckled himself, staring out the window in silent awe. Red canopy like canvases ran from the sides of the building to poles in the ground, creating a shady outside area where some people were already sitting. Over each window there were little roof like things that blocked out sun, but still let in light. There were people pretty much every where, walking along the sidewalk, entering or exiting the restaurant, and sitting around the small tables outside. Harry had never thought Aunt Petunia had taste, but it seemed she did in some things.

Before he knew it, they had entered the restaurant and were seated beside a window over looking the street and sidewalk, menus spread out before them. Aunt Petunia had said for them to order whatever they liked, and this time, Harry believed her.

Halfway through his Pesto Pasta, his eye lids heavy and his stomach already feeling pleasantly full, Harry's scar, which had been steadily prickling, flared with pain. Harry stifled a cry, clapping a hand to his forehead, and dropping his fork with a clatter.

A sick, maniac, happy feeling, that most definitely did not belong to him, ran through his body, and Harry shuddered violently. A picture flashed in his mind, a street, an oddly familiar street, but at the same time, not. All at once, Voldemort's thoughts and emotions receded, leaving Harry suddenly cold and shaky. His uneasy feeling from earlier returning with a vengeance.

We shouldn't have left the house.

"Aunt Petunia," he whispered, leaning across the table so that she could hear him. For some reason, speaking any louder than a whisper unnerved him. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled along with his scar. He felt like as if... almost as if they were being watched. His heart thumped loudly against his chest.

"What happened? You... It was like last time, with your... scar, but you didn't pass out."

Aunt Petunia leaned across the table as well, just barely murmuring the words. She seemed to understand the sudden urgency Harry was feeling.

"We need to leave," He said, raising a hand to hail their waitress, "Now."

Dudley stopped eating his salad, watching the exchange with rapt attention. It seemed Dudley had learned to listen when Harry said something. After last year... Well, Harry couldn't fault him for it, and cooperation made things a bit easier.

"Alright." Aunt Petunia murmured in reply, rummaging through her handbag for her wallet. Harry had finally caught the waitress's eye and beckoned her over, his heart rate seemingly rising with every wasted second. And they still had to fetch Uncle Vernon.

"All finished then?" Katie, the waitress, chirped when she reached their table.

"Yeah, thanks, we'd like the bill." Harry tried to make himself at least sound coherent, and he supposed it worked because Katie turned immediately to fetch the bill. Sweat beaded on Harry's temples, and he tried to clear his mind. To think. What would he do if a death eater had followed them out here?

They were surrounded by muggles, but what did one of Voldemort's followers care. The more they killed the better, in their sick, twisted opinion.

And his aunt and cousin? Would he be able to protect them?

Harry slipped his hand up the left sleeve of his jumper, he'd put it on just before they exited the car, the sleeves of his t-shirt being to short to hide his wand holster. It was cold in the restaurant anyway, so it didn't look suspicious.

His fingers slid over the handle of his wand, and it warm beneath his touch. It comforted him a little. Made him feel as though he wasn't completely helpless.

Katie came back, a little black, book-like shape in her hand. "Here you go. Would you like me to pack these up for you?" She placed the bill on the table and flashed Harry a cheery smile. The oddest thing, all through lunch, she'd been looking at him with bright smiles and twinkling blue eyes.

Dudley had noticed, for he had exchanged a glance with Harry after Katie had given him a glaringly obvious, flirtatious wink. It made him feel self conscious, and his cheeks uncomfortably warm.

He heard a chuckle to his left, and resisted the urge throw Dudley a few good barbs. "Erm, no, it's fine, we're in a hurry." He managed to say, averting his eyes, and struggling to maintain the blush from creeping up his neck.

"Aw! That's too bad. Do you live in London? Maybe we could meet up some time... Tell you what, here's my number."

Harry's head whipped around, his mouth dropping open in a most unbecoming manner. An odd sensation flooded his body, he wanted to laugh. It felt mad, but the very idea that someone was asking him out at a time like this...

He glanced between the paper napkin with a cellular number on it to Katie's receding figure. She had left as soon as she had shoved the napkin into his hand. All he could see was the back of her head, and a long blonde ponytail swishing to and fro across her back. Harry avoided the Dursley's gaze as he stood, shoving Katie's number into his pocket, though he knew he'd never call her.

"Let's go," he muttered, lifting his head, to glance at them, before making his way through people and tables. He hoped no one noticed the tip of his wand which peeked though his sleeve and brushed against his palm, waiting for him to twitch his arm a bit and allow it to slide away from the jumper completely.

"How long does it take to get to Kings Cross from here?" he asked the minute Aunt Petunia started the car. "Ah, fifteen, maybe twenty minutes."

Aunt Petunia turned into the highway, waving to the car who had granted her pass. "Harry, what's going on?"

"In the restaurant, my scar started burning, and it only does that when something's happening with Voldemort. I told you about it the other day, remember?"

Aunt Petunia nodded hesitantly, and Harry took it as a good sign to continue.

"Now I don't know what it is exactly, but I know that he's happy about something. I shouldn't have left the house. Dumbledore, you met him last night, told me not to go to far, I don't know what I was thinking."

"But we aren't even sure if anything is happening... And what is it that could happen?"

Dudley leaned forward to ask his question, his head, sticking out from between the two front seats.

"I don't know," answered Harry, biting the inside of his lip and frowning. "But whatever it is, it's going to be big. We need to get back to the house, that's the only place he can't get at us."

Silence fell after Harry spoke, each of them thinking about the situation they were in.

Harry clutched his wand, forcing himself to remain calm. Voldemort wasn't going to jump out beside them and rip him from the car. He was overreacting. Yeah, that was it.

Just overreacting.

Less than ten minutes later, Aunt Petunia pulled into the Kings Cross station car park.

Harry tensed, turning to his aunt and cousin who seemed to be waiting for him to say something.

"All right, we'll go in, find Uncle Vernon and come right back out as soon as fast as possible. And..." Harry hesitated, unsure of how to state what was on his mind.

"Er- I don't think we should say anything about, well, you know..."

To his relief, both Aunt Petunia and Dudley were already nodding.

Almost there, almost there...

Thankfully, picking up Uncle Vernon had not resulted in a chaotic event, in fact, it went quite smoothly. If one didn't count Vernon Dursley's blustery manner and obnoxiously loud voice. But Harry was used to that, he had expected that.

They were almost to Number Four now and they were officially on Privet Drive, but Harry was still holding his breath tensely as he looked out the window... Watching, for any sign of a disturbance. So far, everything looked normal, painfully normal. And it was far too quiet... In Harry's opinion anyway, but maybe he was just paranoid. No matter, he kept his hand closed around the handle of his wand and his mind alert.

Aunt Petunia was almost to the driveway, she was turning the steering wheel to the left, the car inching onto the cement...

Harry felt the explosion before he saw it. His forehead, already pressed to the glass of his car window, rocking back and then slamming forward again as the car lurched around them.

Someone was screaming, cursing, lights flashed, and Uncle Vernon's company car was rolled completely over. Harry and the three Dursleys hanging upside down inside, held to their seats only by the belts across their waists and chests.

Wetness trickled into Harry's hairline, his vision blurring over, and his head pounding. Someone... Aunt Petunia, was screaming, she was saying something, but Harry couldn't make out what it was.

Another voice, a man's voice was yelling over his aunt's, cursing and swearing loudly. The sound grated on Harry's eardrums, the voice, Uncle Vernon's, was cut off. Harry blinked repeatedly, trying and failing to clear the fogginess from his brain.

The screeching sound of metal scraping against asphalt reached his ears, and he tried and failed to clap his hands over his ears and block out the sound.

The car lurched again, a sense of vertigo, then they were right side up.

Harry couldn't hear, couldn't see. The flash and the noise from the blast had temporarily blinded him. He blinked again, the world around him turning and swirling. Some of the cotton wool had receded from his brain, and he clenched his right fist, expecting it to close around the handle of his wand.

It didn't.

His hands were empty.

My wand! Where is my wand?

His vision was returning, and the bright spots stopped flashing behind his eyelids. Immediately, he scrabbled for the release of his seat belt, missing the small button several times before he actually pressed it.

Wand. Wand!

He bent forward, his hands patting around on the car floor. Aunt Petunia was yelling something, his name, Dudley's, but Harry couldn't think about that now. He needed his wand, or they were all doomed.

His fumbling fingers glided over something, something smooth, something... His wand!

Harry grabbed it sitting up straight just in time to see his door opened and a hooded, black figure reach in and pull him from the car.

No!

Quickly, Harry shoved his wand up his sleeve, praying to Merlin that whatever Death Eater had him, hadn't seen it in his hand.

His glasses fell from his face as he was thrown to the street, the tall cloaked figure kicking him right in the ribs.

Harry groaned as the boot clad foot connected with his stomach, he rolled over, placing his hands on the ground to lever himself into a standing position. Sharp pieces of what could only be broken glass pressed into his palms, and Harry stood, panting and sweating as he faced his foe.

He couldn't see the face behind the mask, but without his glasses he could barely see the mask either. Just a big, blurry blob. He needed his glasses. Fighting like this was impossible. He twitched his wrist, his wand sliding straight into his cut and bleeding palm.

"Accio glasses!"

The death eater in front of him lunged forward, realising his mistake, but it was too late. Glasses in hand, Harry shoved them on his face, his wand held before him, "Stupefy!"

The man fell mid-leap, his body dropping like a stone before Harry's feet. Harry turned away, finally getting a good look at the chaos around him.

One look at Uncle Vernon's car told him the Dursleys were no longer in there. Another glance around told him they were surrounded, but where were his relatives? Harry tried to focus, there were at least ten death eaters, all of them with their wands drawn standing side by side in a circle formation. They seemed to be waiting for something. But for what? Harry turned slowly, and spied three figures trussed together like Thanksgiving turkeys. His stomach lurched... Aunt Petunia, Uncle Vernon, and Dudley sat at the far end of the circle, their mouths moving silently. Obviously whatever death eaters that dragged them from the car had gotten tired of their terrified screams.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't Ickle Baby Potter."

A shiver ran down Harry's spine, Bellatrix Lestrange, he knew that voice anywhere. He could hear her foot steps behind him, and he whirled around, wand at the ready, intense hatred pulsing through his veins.

"Aw...Does Ickle Harrykins feel like fighting me?" She cooed. It would have been almost funny were it anyone else. She was taunting him, baiting him, just like she had done at the Ministry.

But Harry knew better now, she wasn't going to get a rise out of him. He'd let her taunt him all she liked, see how she liked the frustration.

Harry breathed in then out slowly. Then he felt himself inhale sharply at her next words.

"You think you can do better than my mangy oaf of a cousin, boy?" Her voice had scaled up into a hiss. "You? Barely able to hold a wand the right way, fight me? I don't think so!"

"Now, now, Bella, we mustn't lose our tempers. The Dark Lord shall be here soon enough and we will be rewarded for our conquest." Drawled a voice Harry couldn't place in memory.

Against his better judgement Harry snapped, "Conquest? You really think dear old Tom is going to be impressed by your conquest? You captured a fifteen year old wizard in training and his muggle relatives!" He put on a mock high pitch imitation of Voldemort's voice. "Well done my loyal followers, have a gold star." It was more hysteria than anything else driving him right now, he knew it.

There was a hiss of rage from Bellatrix. "How dare you befoul the dark lord's name in such a manner!"

"What? You mean Tom?" Harry sniped. "Hasn't he told you that's his real name? That he was given a muggle name? That he's a half blood? Just. Like. Me?"

Lestrange let out an almost incoherent shriek of rage. If he had to guess, Harry thought it was, "Insolent Whelp!" But he couldn't be sure.

Neither could he be bothered to figure it out.

Suddenly, Bellatrix darted forward, her left hand outstretched and her right holding her wand level with his face. She looked as though she was planning on wringing his neck and stabbing out his eyeballs. But she never got close enough.

A loud crack made them all whip 'round. Any taunting and baiting Harry had in mind fled as his scar burned white hot. Voldemort had arrived.

Harry's left hand flew to his forehead, his right clutching his wand like a life line.

"Harry Potter, at last."

Voldemort stood just outside of his circle of followers, but he wasn't alone. Draco Malfoy stood beside him, held fast by Lucius Malfoy, who appeared to be muttering something into the boy's ear. On Voldemort's other side stood Draco's mother, who was being held by Voldemort himself, a stricken expression on her face.

"Oh, god," murmured Harry, how were they going to get out of this. He needed to think, he needed a plan. All they had to do was get to Number Four. The house wasn't too far away, but being surrounded by death eaters, the house might as well be a million feet away. We're going to die out here, and it will be all my fault.

"Imagine my surprise, Harry, when in the middle of a meeting I was interrupted. Only to find that my faithful servants have you and your muggle family surrounded on the street."

Voldemort's high, cold voice was incredibly loud in the quiet street. Chills ran up and down Harry's spine, and the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end.

He bit his tongue and remained silent. He needed to think, not exchange pre-battle barbs and taunts with Voldemort. He needed to get the Dursleys out of here. But how?

Voldemort stepped forward, into the circle, closer to Harry, dragging Narcissa Malfoy along beside him. Briefly, Harry wondered what had happened to her face, which sported a very large greenish bruise.

"But it is of no matter, for I can continue my meeting here. Can't I, Draco," said Voldemort, turning away from Harry, and advancing on Draco.

"Step forward."

Lucius shoved his obviously terrified son, causing Draco to stumble his way towards Voldemort. Harry stood frozen, watching the scene before him, what the hell was happening here?

"Your arm."

When Draco hesitated, Voldemort reached out, grabbing the boy's left arm.

Suddenly, everything clicked into place in Harry's mind. Draco was being forced to be branded as a Death Eater.

"Please, Father please." Draco was whimpering now, but no one listened to his words.

Voldemort pressed his wand against the skin of Draco's forearm, and when Draco's agonized screams pierced the air, no one moved.

Minutes passed, and when Voldemort released Draco's arm, Harry watched as the boy slumped to the ground. His breath coming in sharp gasps, tears streaming down his pale face.

"Let that be a lesson to you," whispered Voldemort, but apparently, he wasn't finished, "And to you."

Voldemort trained his wand on Narcissa, who had rushed to her son's side. Harry could see the terror on her upturned face. Her nose less than an inch from Voldemort's wand. Harry knew what would happen just seconds before it did.

"Avada Kedavra!"

And Narcissa fell, like a puppet whose strings had been cut.

"MOTHER!"

Harry's eyes slid shut as Draco's scream rang out in front of Number Four, Privet Drive.

Less Than One Hour Earlier...

Severus stood stock still inside Albus Dumbledore's office, his eyes wide with disbelief. "You cannot possibly believe..." It was far too simple.

"I do, Severus. You say that Voldemort has been unwell?"

"I- Yes, today's pepper-up potion makes the fourth this month." Severus recovered his composure, and seated himself in the chair before the Headmaster's desk. He watched as Albus' eyes gleamed with satisfaction. Perhaps... "Albus, surely-"

"Severus, I assure you, this is a very strong possibility. Harry, as you know, is tethered to Voldemort, even more so after that night in the graveyard when he took Harry's blood. And now both show signs of having the same illness... It is entirely plausible, my dear boy."

The reasoning was sound, Severus had to admit, "It is... plausible," he admitted stiffly, "But how are we to know for certain? I can't imagine that the Dark Lord will allow me to conduct muggle tests upon him."

The Headmaster smiled benignly, and Severus grit his teeth, the man was entirely too irritating with his knowing looks and kind smiles... and those blasted twinkling eyes! It made him feel as though he were a stupid fool, sitting before an omnipotent man who laughed at Severus' assumptions, wordlessly indicating that he knew more than you ever could.

"My boy, you forget that cancer is not only a muggle illness, the children of muggles or of a muggleborn parent can contract it as well, as it is hereditary. Harry Potter is not the only child to have inherited such a disease, but he is the only child to have had his blood used in a potion to return Voldemort to his body."

"Bloody Potter," he grumbled, damned child was at the base of every problem in the wizarding world. Severus ignored the inaccuracy of his thought. "How did the idiot child end up with the disease in the first place? I suppose one of his muggle aunts or uncles passed it down?"

Trust Potter to inherit a sickness that went back an entire generation.

"Actually, Severus, it seems to have been passed directly from Harry's-"

But the rest of Albus' state was cut off, for the mark upon his left arm burned savagely, and Severus shot up from his chair.

Severus sucked in a breath through his teeth, closing the fingers of his right hand over his left forearm. He and Albus exchanged a worried look.

"I must go," said Severus, forcing himself to release his burning flesh and draw his wand to switch himself into death eater robes and mask. He glanced at Albus again, taking note of the troubled look upon his face, "You think it might be about Potter?"

"Harry knows not to leave the house, but, I must admit, something does not feel right. Voldemort does not usually call you in the middle of the day. I shall wait here for your word. You have the emergency portkeys, Severus?"

Severus had already made his way to the floo, intending to return to his home and apparate from there.

"Always," he replied, and threw down a pinch of floo powder, calling for his destination.

Albus was right, something was indeed amiss.

0o0o0o0

Harry peeled his eyes open once more. The street had gone eerily quiet. The usually so nosey neighbors, hidden, within their houses. Harry wondered if they could see what was happening, or if the death eaters had warded the area in the hopes that no one would be able to get word that Harry Potter was trapped just outside his realm of protection.

He hoped they had. One murder committed right before his eyes was more than he could handle. Almost two years ago, when Harry had been tied to Tom Riddle Sr. grave, he had prayed and wished that somebody, anybody, even the muggle police, would come. But now, he wished he were alone.

Alone so that he would not have to watch anybody else die.

Not the Dursleys. And certainly not Draco Malfoy's mother.

Of whom was still strewn across the asphalt like a doll dropped from a small child's fingers.

Harry swallowed convulsively, and tore his gaze away from Draco and Narcissa Malfoy, his stomach clenching and twisting violently. How many more would he see? How many more people would die before his eyes? Cedric, Sirius, his own mother... and now, the mother of his school rival.

Would he see the Dursleys slaughtered as well?

"You see, Draco, how your family's follies have been punished?"

Voldemort's high cold voice filtered through Harry's thoughts, bringing him back to present. Harry wiped the blood from his forehead to keep it from dripping into his eyes.

"You would do well not to make the same mistake."

Harry watched disgustedly as Voldemort used his foot to turn Narcissa's lax face from side to side. Draco still frozen in his position, half his body on top of his mother's, his fingers still gripping her shoulders.

Harry tried not to look at Malfoy's face, sure that if he did he would see the type of sadness no one would want to see upon an 'enemies' face. He truly pitied Malfoy, and he was certain that if he lived he'd never be able to properly despise the other boy's existence again.

Ron would be disappointed.

Hermione would nod her head decisively and tell Harry that he was right to be the better person.

"Get up, Draco, and prove your worth," sneered Voldemort, removing his foot from Narcissa's face, and turning his back on Malfoy, who was being hauled to his feet by his father.

Harry breath came in short pants as he watched the scene before him, he couldn't think of one possible way to get the Dursleys out. To safety, within the wards.

"And now, Harry Potter, we have come to your end. There will be no escape this time. No Albus Dumbledore to save you now."

Voldemort spread his arms, laughing at Harry, his servants snickering in answer.

Harry gripped his wand, raising it more purposefully in front of him, "Where I may need Dumbledore, you need more than ten persons to corner a boy not even seventeen and his muggle relatives. You're pathetic," he spat, edging slowly to his right to stand in front of the Dursleys. His aunt, uncle, and cousin were still silenced and tied together, guarded by a squat, robed man... or at least Harry though it was a man. He couldn't be sure with the robe and hood.

Perhaps if he were quick enough-

A small flash of light behind Voldemort caught Harry's eye, causing him to both halt his train of thought and miss Voldemort's next words.

The death eater directly behind his master had his wand out, and Harry could just barely make out the movement of his lips. Harry followed the wand's tip, to see where it was pointing... A bush.

What the-

But Harry's attention snapped back to Voldemort before anything came of it.

"Do it, Draco!"

Lucius Malfoy shoved his son forward, apparently Voldemort was not finished putting the Malfoy family in their place. Malfoy stumbled to the side, skittering around Voldemort and closer to Harry, who swished his wand between the two, nervously.

"Back away, Malfoy," he said tersely, his wand and his gaze switching from Malfoy to Voldemort, and back to Malfoy who was getting nearer.

"Back away or I swear I'll hurt you!"

But Malfoy didn't stop and Harry didn't make good on his threat.

Malfoy was about three yards from Harry now, his wand arm shaking so violently, Harry was sure he'd drop the slim stick from his fingers.

"I have to do this, I- I have no choice," Malfoy whimpered, but to Harry's surprise Malfoy's wand was not pointing at him. It was pointing to a spot almost just behind Harry, it was pointing- the Dursleys!

Harry twisted around completely, just in time to see Malfoy's lips part and his wand directed precisely on Aunt Petunia. Harry lunged forward waving his wand at the space between Malfoy and his relatives.

"PROTEGO!" he shouted.

And all hell broke loose.

To be continued...

A/N: I apologise for the wait! I hope it lived up to expectations. Please review and let me know what you think! Many thanks to Magicia and Orchidellia! Please check out my latest addition to my one-shot series! It's a Lily and James one. :)

Regards, Marie