Draco glanced over his shoulder nervously, half expecting to see Death Eaters ready to kill them. He only saw a peaceful Muggle neighborhood. Unconsciously, he stepped closer to Snape.

"Where are we?" he asked nervously.

"Potter's relatives' house," Snape replied curtly, as he knocked on the door.

"What?" Draco gasped, wide-eyed. "We need to get out of here! Please!" Severus sighed.

"What's wrong with you now?" he asked wearily. "It's the safest place I could think of. They're Muggles and they know about wizards. I don't know where the Muggle-borns' parents live. Do you have any Muggle friends, I wonder?"

"Professor, I don't think - " Draco began, but was cut off by the door opening. Petunia stood in the doorway.

"You," she said, eyeing Severus disdainfully.

"Tuney," Severus replied, with a strictly polite nod of his head. Draco stepped behind Severus, and Severus put a hand on Draco's shoulder. "May we come in? It's rather urgent that we be out of public sight." With a sneer that Severus himself could have admired under less deadly circumstances, (perhaps she had learned it from him?), Petunia stood aside and let the two of them enter. Quietly, she closed the door behind them.

"Well? What do you want?" she prompted. "Then be off with you!"

"We are simply here to lay low for a few days - potentially a few days, if we're lucky," Severus explained. "I promise we won't put you out, Petunia."

"I'm not a hotel for your kind!" Petunia screeched.

"Your nephew needs us safe, and I fully intend on collecting him as soon as humanly possible."

"So you're bringing more here?" Draco began poking Severus.

"I don't think bringing up Harry's helping," he whispered. "Can I handle this, please?" Severus glanced at Draco with a puzzled expression but nodded once.

"Mrs. - ?" Draco began.

"Dursley," Petunia supplied.

"Mrs. Dursley, the situation is this - as you may or may not be aware, there is a powerful wizard looking to rule over all of Great Britain, including Muggles. Due to extenuating circumstances, the Professor and I need a place a stay to evade him. Naturally, because life can't ever be easy, they are also looking for Harry, who is a key player in this war. Despite any personal enmity you may have for him, if he dies, the war is over, and you will all be dead or slaves at the Dark Lord's hands. It is imperative that you cooperate with us, for your own safety." Petunia eyed Draco skeptically.

"And who are you?" she asked.

"Draco Malfoy," he responded promptly, and held his hand out. "Pleased to meet you."

"Malfoy, huh," Petunia looked down her nose at the teenage boy. "So, were you one of his friends, sending owls here all the time?" Draco's arched an eyebrow at the accusal tone in her voice.

"No, ma'am," he denied.

"Hmph."

"So it's all arranged, then? We can stay?" Draco asked.

"You will stay in that boy's room." Severus didn't miss the tone of her voice nor the fact that she hadn't yet called Harry by his Christian name. "You will not make a sound. The last thing I need is for Vernon to find you here." Draco seemed slightly uneasy at those directions, but didn't object. He simply nodded once.

"Your husband is of no concern," Severus interjected.

"Thank you, Mrs. Dursley," he said before Snape could say the wrong thing. "And where can we find Harry's room?"

"Upstairs, first door on the right. Don't go snooping around!"

"Of course not, ma'am," Draco assured her. A shadow passed over Draco's face, but he didn't say anything more. He turned to go up the stairs.

"I'll see what food I can pass you as the days go along," Petunia volunteered, just as Draco put his foot on the first step. "Vernon will get suspicious if I'm not careful, so don't expect much. This isn't an estate, and I'm not your servant."

"I would never have expected anything different," Draco said airily and bolted up the steps before anymore words could be exchanged. Puzzled, Severus followed. When the two wizards got up stairs and saw the room that Petunia instructed them to go to, Severus were flabbergasted. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. There were six padlocks on the doorframe.

"There has to be some mistake," Severus said. "Potter can't have lived like this." Draco just looked at the locks sadly and remembered the conversation that he and Harry had in the Infirmary while they were waiting for their Professor to get back. "Did he starve you? Did he lock you away for weeks on end? Did he put bars on your window, put locks on your door, or install a cat flap as a means for you get fed cold soup once a day?" Draco looked at the door as if it were from some horror movie. He really didn't want to believe that The Golden Boy actually lived like that, but here it was exactly like Harry described. Apparently Harry hadn't been exaggerating at all. Draco couldn't help the guilt that was building in his stomach. How could they have been so wrong about Harry Potter?

"No, there's no mistake," Draco murmured softly. He summoned the courage to put his hand on the door nob and open it. None of the locks were set and so the door swung open with a soft creak. Draco stepped into the room. Severus seemed slightly worried, but followed Draco nonetheless.

The room was almost bare. There was an old mattress on a simple bed frame with some threadbare sheets and a thin blanket in the far corner of the room. In the opposite corner, there was a small, dusty desk. There were no curtains on the window; in fact, there were bars, like Harry had mentioned. There were no rugs on the floor nor pictures on the walls.

Severus closed the door behind them quietly and glanced around the room as well, noticing the same things Draco was: the bed, the pathetic excuse of a desk, the bars on the window. It reminded more of a prison cell than a bedroom.

"Draco?" he asked quietly. "Are you alright?" Draco realized that his mouth was hanging slightly open and he was visibly taken aback by the room. He had walked over to the window and his hand was centimeters from the bars, as though he was afraid they would shock him if he touched them. Perhaps he was.

"Yeah," Draco sighed. "Yeah, I'm fine." Severus walked over to Draco and put his hand on the teen's shoulder.

"You don't seem as surprised to see this room as I am," Severus noted gently. "Why is that?" Draco looked out of the barred window, almost leaning against his Professor for some strength.

"While we were waiting for you to come back from talking with Professor Dumbledore after the Shack, Harry mentioned it." Draco turned around and faced Severus. "I thought he was exaggerating or something." The lump of humiliation was growing in his throat and a slight prickle behind his eyes. "We were wrong, Professor." A tear of remorse found its way out, but no one noticed.

"What else did he tell you?" Severus asked darkly.

"They kept him locked away and didn't feed him," Draco replied softly, his gaze drifting out the window.

"Hmph," Severus acknowledged. "No wonder he's a little barbarian. We should contact him as soon as possible."

Harry came to and tried to remember what was happening. He was on the floor on his stomach, and he pushed himself up, rubbing the back of his neck. It came rushing back to him. The Death Eaters had taken him from Hogwarts and someone had knocked him unconsciously. He sat on the floor and gingerly touched the growing bruise on his jaw. His head was throbbing.

It was a nice floor. Wooden paneling, finished and waxed to shine brilliantly.

"Good afternoon, Harry Potter," a familiar voice greeted him. Harry gasped and looked up. Voldemort sat in a carved and upholstered wooden chair on the other side of the room. Quickly, he stood up and faced his enemy.

"What do you want?" Harry asked, backing away from the Dark wizard.

"I think we should have a little talk," Voldemort said, interlacing his fingers and resting his hands in his lap. "I think you've had the wrong impression of me. I think it's time we cleared the air."

"You killed my parents," Harry yelled. "You tried to kill me. How could I possibly have the wrong impression?"

"Hasty mistakes," Voldemort dismissed. "Well, let's see…" he trailed off and raised his wand. Harry could feel Voldemort in his mind but because of the headache from being knocked unconscious and possibly Voldemort's presence, Harry didn't have the strength to push the Dark Lord out of his mind. He felt Voldemort sift through his memories, thoughts and feelings as though they were putty.

"Please, please," Harry begged, as he gripped his temples and fell to his knees. "Please get out of my head." Voldemort didn't acknowledge him at all, and continued to examine everything, from whatever knew or guessed about the Order of the Phoenix, to "The Monster in the Dark," his training sessions with Moody, Lucius, and Dumbledore, and his home life. Finally, Harry felt the foreign presence retreat. Cautiously, he took his hands away from his temples and found that his headache was gone. He looked at Voldemort curiously.

"What did you do?" Harry asked.

"I fixed your mind," Voldemort said as he rose, walked over to a nearby table, and poured himself a cup of tea. Harry sat back on his heels.

"Fixed?" Harry echoed, skeptical.

"You seem to have a curious…box…in your mind," Voldemort explained. "Even I cannot open it. It was glowing and humming and was causing your headaches around me. I touched it and it stopped. I assume you're feeling better?" Harry glared at Voldemort. How dare he do anything to his mind! "Ah, well, if you prefer not to answer, that's your business," Voldemort continued. "Tea?"

"No," Harry declined quickly, folding his arms. Voldemort shrugged.

"Well, when you're ready," Voldemort said, "it will be here waiting for you." Voldemort waved his wand over the tea, then turned to Harry. "I cast a warming charm on the tea so it will be ready for you when you are." He then turned on his heel and exited the room, leaving a dumbfounded Potter in his wake.