There was something Severus wasn't telling him.

His penchant for secret keeping was not a singularly odd occurrence; it was only quite recently that Draco had realized just how many lives the man had been living. The information still hurt Draco more than he wanted to let on. The emotions were useless now, but he still wished that Severus had somehow told him--warned him that he was making a mistake.

Maybe he had tried to warn him, in his own way, and Draco was oblivious to it in his little pit of despair. The path he had taken to reach this point seemed like a blur to Draco, how had he become so lost?

How was it that he'd gone from being the son of a respected, pureblooded family, to pulling shards of glass from Potter's feet?

Draco stared at the waste basket, his thoughts almost as morbid as the bloodied contents within.

"Are you done?"

Startled, Draco looked up and shook his head. "I don't know, it's hard to tell."

"Get some clean water, try to clear away the blood, we can't leave any piece behind or it will get infected."

That would be a real shame, Draco thought sarcastically. He filled an empty basin with cold water, and returned to sit near Potter's feet, with a frown on his face. The water washed away the excess blood and revealed the severe damage done to Potter's feet. The tissue was torn to shreds and Draco's stomach rolled violently so that he had to close his eyes or risk losing the contents of his stomach.

He despised Potter, hated him for how different their lives had turned out; but, in that moment, seeing what Potter had done to himself, knowing he must have escaped on feet that looked like this; it was hard to not be amazed by him. A thought that should have occurred to him a long time ago finally decided to poke its head up in Draco's mind.

"How did he even get here?"

Severus was already shaking his head, but Draco narrowed his eyes at him. "Was this some place you and all of Dumbledore's people had parties or something, laughing about how good you were at fooling people?"

"Draco, not even Albus Dumbledore has been here. I don't know how Harry came to arrive at the wards."

"I don't believe you--and why are you calling him that?"

"It's his name--"

"You always called him Potter, or was that a lie too? Were you actually all chummy together--I didn't think Potter could act that well."

Rubbing a hand over his eyes, Severus seemed exhausted by the discussion and looked tempted to ignore him. Draco's animosity towards the secrets that had been kept from him seemed to rise whenever the mood struck him.

"I'm not having this...fickle argument with you right now, get done and you can go to your room--" Severus stopped talking when he remembered exactly which room they were standing in. Draco smiled grimly.

"You already gave my room away to someone who's not even conscious enough to enjoy it. Where am I supposed to go now?"

"You can stay in my room."

That was a surprise, and Draco knew his shock was easily recognizable on his face. "You never let me into your room. You said that if I tried to snoop around--"

"I won't be needing the bed, I'll be in here until he wakes up."

There was a fierceness to his voice, and Draco once again felt nonplussed. He shook his head and eyed the bloodied pile of clothes that was growing by Severus' feet as he spelled them off of Potter and cleaned any wounds that came to his attention.

He'd removed as much glass as he could see and Potter's feet needed to be bandaged, but there was probably a salve that needed to be applied first. Draco wasn't about to offer to do that, he didn't like how his eyes kept going back to the bruises and scrapes on Potter's naked chest though, and so he stood up and looked around for something to do.

"He won't need those disgusting things anymore, want me to burn them?"

Severus glanced at the clothes Draco was gesturing at.

"Nothing so dramatic, just put them in the rubbish."

Levitating them off the ground, Draco had almost made it out of the room when a small red
handkerchief fell out from a pocket in the huge coat and landed on the floor at his feet. Potter had tied it together more than once, as if he wanted to make sure none of the contents slipped out. After a second, Draco bent to pick it up and undo the knots, the clothes laid forgotten at his feet.

The small cloth bundle fell open in his hand, and Draco stared without comprehension at the brightly colored things that lay in his hand.

"What's this stuff?"

Severus sighed, but turned to look at what Draco held out to him and his face immediately paled. His dark eyes never blinked and he stared at the bundle in Draco's cupped hand.

"It was in his coat pocket, what is it?"

"A Muggle sweet," Severus said quietly, and hesitantly, "called candy corn," Severus took it from Draco as he spoke, and his hand curled tightly around the bundle as if he would happily destroy the contents.

Draco stared at him. "Potter took time while escaping to fetch some sweets, but couldn't take a moment to pull glass out of his feet?"

There was more emotion on Severus' face than Draco was comfortable seeing, a deep sadness that confused him. The confusion was mixed with anger, and he wanted to know what the hell was going on. There was obviously something more, but he didn't know what it was, and he hated feeling ignorant.

"Severus, why did Potter have that?"

"I don't know, Draco."

Suspecting he did in fact know the answer to his question, and a lot more, Draco glared at his back and turned sharply to finish disposing of the clothes.

.............................................................

Head spinning, Severus looked over Harry's face. The dark circles under his eyes, the slowly healing bruise across his jaw and the hand shaped marks across his throat. Trying to control the anger he could feel rising just under his skin, Severus pressed his tightly closed fist against his mouth, eyes closing briefly.

If the urge to scream at the unfairness of the world welled up in him, he could just bite down on his knuckle until it bled.

In his other hand was the candy corn which he knew without testing would be laced with potion to change Harry's appearance. The boy must have known longer than Severus realized. He had not sent him the laced candy corn in...well, it must have been over two years ago.
He'd taken to putting the potion in the boy's pumpkin juice before school holidays, it was not as dangerous and would be harder to trace back to him, and once the Dark Lord came back he had had to be more cautious than ever.
When he had realized all those years ago, that his Obliviate's were fading with time, Severus had scolded himself and remedied the problem.

Stupid sentimentality would get Harry killed, he had to put aside such emotion and destroy any thoughts of a future with his son. The position in the Dark Lord's ranks could not be sacrificed. Now, thinking back on how he'd strengthened his spell casting, Severus was sure that the Obliviate has not failed...so when had the boy realized the truth and started saving the laced sweets?

There were so many questions he wanted answers too, and yet, he dreaded the thought of asking knowing those green eyes would be narrowed in on him in distrust.

Tightly closing his own eyes in exhaustion at the life he'd led thus far, Severus sighed.

He would just have to be content with healing Harry, erasing all the bruises and healing all the cuts until there was nothing left to see; no outward sign of the abuse he had suffered at the hands of his capturers.
Picking up the salve he'd made earlier that week, never knowing he'd have to use it so soon, Severus got busy with rubbing it onto all those cuts and bruises so that at least when Harry woke up, everything he went through couldn't be seen with a mirror. The mental and psychological scars would take much longer to heal.

Never stirring under his careful administrations, Harry slept on, and Severus hoped that if he was dreaming, it wasn't nightmares.

They'd both had enough nightmares for several lifetimes.

...............................................................

Harry immediately tensed upon waking up and the pain he hadn't felt in sleep made itself known.

During his month long captivity with the Death Eaters, his body almost expected abuse upon waking. Sometimes Harry had woken up there, curled into himself as tightly as possible, as if even in unconsciousness, his body knew he wasn't safe enough to relax.

He kept his eyes closed and used his other senses to determine just what sort of situation he was in now. Calloused fingertips lay on some unfamiliar surface, and when Harry dared to move them just an inch he found soft, cool cotton.

Becoming more aware, Harry realized that he was lying on an actual bed and stifled a whimper.

A bed, not a cold stone floor, and if that wasn't enough to make his throat tight, someone had lain a quilt across him and tucked it in so that no heat escaped. He couldn't ever remember someone tucking him in. Somewhere in the room, a fireplace crackled softly, it had been a long time since Harry had felt the heat of a cozy fire...a very long time.
The last few minutes before Harry had passed out in the woods ran through his head, and without his permission, his arm shook with restrained emotion, fingernails scratching the surface of the quilt as his hand clenched down on the soft material.

A warm hand suddenly wrapped tightly over his own, stilling the shaking as the other person radiated safety and calmness in the face of his distress.

Oddly, Harry had a very strong feeling that he knew who the hand belonged to, and the relief that swept through him was so strong that he felt his breath catch in his chest with a choked sound.

Another hand fell gently across his forehead for just the barest of moments before Harry opened his eyes. Quickly withdrawing his hand from Harry's face, as if he wasn't sure it would be appreciated, Severus moved back in his chair and stared at him unnervingly.

Meeting his eyes without flinching from where his head rested on a pillow, Harry stared as well.

There was no light in the room other than that of the fireplace that crackled as the flames twisted above the logs, but it was enough to see the trepidation in his father's dark eyes. There were a dozen
things Harry could have said, questions that had run around his head for months now, but it was too soon, and his body ached too much.

"Water?" he asked instead, his voice quiet and exhausted.

There was only the slightest of movements before a glass was lifted to his lips, Severus must have had it ready on the table beside them, knowing Harry would be parched when he awoke. It was odd to think of the man trying to predict his needs.

Lifting a weak hand to the glass, Harry was grateful when Severus helped him hold it and at least gave him the illusion of having some independence.

"I had not expected you to wake so soon. Too soon, your body needs more rest." He put the glass back on the bedside table when Harry moved back from it and then lifted a potion up.

"No, wait," Harry muttered, turning his head away from the potion he recognized from his time in the Hospital Wing as a pain reducer that aided sleep. "How did I get here?"

There was honesty in Severus' eyes that Harry trusted when he responded.

"I'm not sure, to my knowledge you've never been here, and there are no portkey's with this destination."

Harry swallowed and rubbed at his eyes, trying to remember exactly what had gone through his head before he'd passed out. "I think...I was so desperate to be somewhere safe, they were about to find me and my legs were about to collapse." Swallowing painfully, his throat sore from all the cold air he had breathed in while outside in the snow, Harry shivered in memory. "I could almost feel myself slipping out of consciousness even as I was stumbling around--"

"Yes?" Severus whispered, realizing Harry was holding something back when he looked down at his hands.

"I wanted to be safe, warm, and most of all I just wanted someone...someone to protect me from them."

There was a heavy silence. Harry hadn't meant to say so much, that he was yearning, at least in those moments for someone to take care of him, someone like a father.

Severus cleared his throat softly. "Did I, perhaps, come to mind in that moment?"

Finding some remaining bravery inside, Harry looked at him, truly looked and saw the signs of worry on the man's face that hadn't always been there and he knew that his recent abduction had caused those lines.

"You were the only person I thought of."

It was an easier admission than he thought it would be, but Harry still cleared his throat and tried to move past it.

"Do you think my magic somehow--found you?"

"It seems the only explanation worthy of our consideration. It's amazing that you didn't harm yourself in the process of apparating here, especially considering the state we found you in."

Harry blinked and then frowned, "We?"

"Me and young Mister Malfoy."

"Malfoy's here?"

"Yes, I'm housing him while the ministry tries to right itself and put together trials for those that didn't escape. His mother is responsible for saving my life moments before it would have been too late...I noticed you didn't seem too shocked by my not being...dead."

Harry's eyes went to the man's throat and the still vivid scars before he raised them and swallowed. "The Death Eaters talked about your surprising recovery, they weren't too pleased. I...I was though."

The silence wasn't uncomfortable, but Harry looked away from Severus' bright eyes.

"Will you take the potion now? Your body needs sleep to heal."

Harry nodded and reached for it gratefully, his arm muscles complaining at the small movement.

Not even five minutes later, a deep contentment seemed to fill him, and Harry couldn't be sure which was more to blame for that, the potion, or the warm hand that once again had covered his own.

...............................................................

With eyes narrowed in disdain, Draco stared at Potter's content face. He'd been sleeping for what seemed like an era, the early morning light had turned its attention away from the window as if it was tired of waiting on Potter to wake up too.

Severus had told him to watch Potter as he went to brew a few necessary potions, and Draco had consented to do so, but not happily. What was Potter going to do, honestly? Burst into flames if he wasn't mothered constantly? He didn't get enough attention when he was awake that he now had to be smothered with constant care while unconscious too?

Some part of Draco told him that he was being childish, and in his most stubborn mental tone, he told the voice to shut it.

Swigging his lukewarm tea, Draco turned to examine the potion bottles on what had once been his bedside table: pain relieving potions of various strengths, multiple salves for burns and cuts, and a thick paste that smelt like raspberries for reducing the appearance of scars.

Raising an eyebrow, Draco wondered if Potter would be upset with Severus trying to get rid of the scars. Maybe the Gryffindor wanted to act like they were battle wound; it seemed a very Potter like thing to do.

Slowly, Draco's eyes went to Potter's hand that rested on top of his chest, and then to the thin red scars that encircled his wrist. Some parts were still scabbed over where whatever material the Death Eaters had used to tie him up had cut into his skin deeply.

Shivering suddenly, Draco scowled and looked away--but then his eyes landed on Potter's feet which were uncovered so that the thick balm Severus had applied would not be disturbed. He'd run from the Death Eaters on those feet, had literally run for his life.

Potter twitched in his sleep, his whole body jumping as if he'd been shocked and Draco had to hold back a yelp of surprise. When the Gryffindor's eyebrows scrunched in pain and his mouth tightened in a firm line, Draco stood up to get Severus--and then stopped. He hadn't been able to account for Potter's different features before, and no matter what Severus said, he had changed and not just due to a bad diet while in captivity, but in that moment Potter had reminded him of someone.

"Has Harry woken up again? Draco?"

Turning, mouth opened slightly from awe and confusion, Draco looked at where his ex-professor stood in the doorway and knew who Potter was starting to remind him of.

...............................................................

The cottage had been in his possession for nearly nineteen years. Severus had bought it hoping that his family could live here, the multitude of bad decisions he'd made in the past would not hold him back from facing the future with brave new eyes. With the woman he loved at his side, he'd felt invincible, like a new creature that had known pain and hardship but had become all the stronger for it...perhaps that was when fate had started planning his downfall.

He had been so close to leaving the Death Eaters when the Dark Lord sent them on that raid, he had believed it would be the last one he was forced to go on.

In the many years since Lily's death, Severus had visited the cottage when his need to rage at the injustice of the world was overwhelming and he knew that staying at Hogwarts in those moments was too dangerous. Should a portrait overhear his raging and mention it to someone--no, he could avoid that best by screaming here, where no one could hear him and wonder.

The pain at the sight of the place was like ripping apart a freshly healed wound every time his eyes lay on the blue door and shingled windows. Dark green ivy crawled up the sides, and the sun rose every morning to shine brightly in the windows and announce that a new day was upon them.

Severus knew the cottage well, it held a very special place in his heart, and even though he had wanted to hate it for all that it reminded him of, he just couldn't. But in that moment, standing in the doorway of the room where Harry lay unconscious, he felt like a stranger that didn't belong.

It was all due to the way he was being stared at. There was a dawning recognition is Draco's eyes that Severus could not imagine the reason for. The young man had never looked at him before in this manner. As if he understood something quite startling, and yet with the awareness, came confusion.

"Draco?"

The other boy blinked at him but didn't speak immediately and Severus grew concerned.

"Are you ill?"

Shaking his head, Draco opened his mouth--and from his place on the bed Harry whimpered.

Attention immediately diverted, Severus moved past Draco and headed straight to Harry's side, his wand already out to cast a diagnostic spell and determine the reason for his distress. The reason was made blatantly clear without the need for spells as Harry suddenly awoke with a gasp and struggled to sit up.

"Harry--wait, you'll hurt yourself--"

Not managing to sit up all the way, Harry leaned over the side of the bed and threw up the few potions he'd managed to swallow the night before. The mess was vanished in moments and Severus transfigured the wastebasket into a basin and helped Harry sit up so he could hold it.

Looking up, Severus opened his mouth to ask for a wet cloth and was surprised to see Draco holding one out to him face impassive.

"Thank you."

"Do you want a stomach calming draft?"

"No..." He winced as Harry threw up again, moaning slightly as he did. "I don't think that will help in this case."

Severus had his hands on Harry's shoulders, supporting the bleary eyed boy as he leaned over the basin. His head was unsteady on his shoulders, falling forward to lean on the edge of the basin as he tried to get his breath back, sweat gathering on his brow.

"I think a change of clothes would be appreciated though."

Severus felt when the thin shoulders tensed again a moment later and wasn't surprised when Harry was sick again.

"What do you think it is if it's not something related to his stomach being upset by a sudden intake of potions?"

Severus was quite pleased that Draco was interested in helping and curious about his diagnosis; but because of what the diagnosis was, he was also uncomfortable.

"I think he's allergic to one of the ingredients in a certain potion I gave him."

Draco blinked, "Oh, how do you reckon that?"

Severus ignored him and leaned around Harry so he could see his sweaty face. Wiping at his mouth gently, he watched as Harry held tightly to the basin and tried to calm his breathing as his stomach muscles stopped convulsing.

"Better?" he asked a moment later and Harry nodded tiredly. "Would you mind making some tea, Draco?"

Draco left the room, his narrowed eyes telling Severus he didn't understand why his question had gone unanswered.

"I apologize for this," Severus said softly and Harry opened his eyes to look at him curiously. "I should have realized you might react badly to vervain."

Leaning back on the bed slightly, wincing as he tried to adjust himself to a more comfortable position, Harry cleared his throat before asking softly, "Why should you have known that? I didn't even know that."

Shifting forward to lay his arms across his knees and steeple his fingers, Severus stared at him for a moment and then answered in the same soft way he had used the night before.

"It's genetic, Harry. You inherited the allergy from me. I have known about my intolerance to vervain since was quite young, it didn't even cross my mind that you would experience the same side-effects."

Harry's eyes seemed quite bright in his pale face, and Severus was starting to get nervous when he smiled slightly.

"I guess I can't say you never gave me anything."

Surprised by the humor in Harry's voice, Severus smirked slightly.

"I'll attempt to do a better job of gifting you with things in the future."

There was no verbal agreement that they were both hoping for a future spent getting to know the other, just a shared look that was interrupted when Draco came back in, looking at the tray in his hands as if it had offended him somehow.

"Honestly, you should get a house elf, Severus," he said as he put it on the writing desk with a heavy thunk that rattled the china.

"Did you burn yourself this time?"

"...No."

"Then why bother with a house elf when you are learning so very quickly?"

Draco frowned and his gray eyes flashed over to Harry, "Good job not dying, Potter. If you're done vomiting all over my room, you should feel free to leave as soon as possible."

He turned and strode out of the room with his head high and his fists held tightly at his sides.

"Draco is a mixed mass of emotions," Severus said as he moved to pour two cups of tea. "Some small part of him is immensely grateful to be released from the Dark Lord's service; the much larger, childish part of him is angry that he is facing punishment for crimes he felt forced to commit. Angry that he can't return home, angry that he can't see his father, angry to be under house arrest with me until the ministry knows what to do with him. I imagine there is also a large dose of self-resentment, but heaven knows if anyone will ever see it."

Harry shifted and pushed the basin to the other side of the bed, his eyes closed, face still tired and bruised.

"I guess he'll feel a lot happier when I leave."

Severus stopped stirring sugar into his tea and felt Harry's eyes turn on him.

"Of course, I understand that you have your own life to return to once you are well enough...."

"Yes?"

Looking around the room, Severus cleared his throat and said quietly, "I feel it is important for you to know that while you need not feel guilty if don't want to, there is a room in the cottage that was supposed to be yours many years ago...and it is still opened to you."

...............................................................

In his third year at Hogwarts, Harry had imagined having a home with Sirius. The idea had filled him with incredible joy at the time. To have a place that would 'his' in a way the Dursley's house never had been, the thought was enough to give him happy dreams for months.

But, back then he'd been naive, and it had taken him a while to realize that dream wouldn't come true.

Harry wondered if the word's he'd just heard were the beginning of another doomed dream. God, he hoped not.

"You want me to live here...with you?"

"Of course, I understand that our history doesn't exactly make for a promising future--you need not answer, I understand your repugnance at the idea--"

"Wait!" Harry said, growing more alarmed as Severus spoke. The man turned to look at him, his eyes guarded, fiercely hiding any hope he felt. "I wasn't saying 'no', I just couldn't believe you'd want me here."

"Of course I want you here," he said with quiet intensity. "I've wanted to see you in this house for years. This is your home."

Against his will, Harry felt his throat close painfully as if a rock was lodged inside.

"When did your appearance start to change?"

He noticed that the change in topic was for his benefit and Harry wiped at his eyes roughly and replied as steadily as he could.

"After we'd been searching for the horcruxes a few weeks, Hermione noticed immediately. I didn't really think much about it--there were so many other things to think about, then...then I started having dreams. They weren't like any dreams I'd ever had before, and I knew without a doubt that they weren't the result of my connection with Voldemort."

Severus was quiet, letting Harry talk without interruption.

"I dreamed I was sick and you came to...to the cupboard and opened the door. You weren't even surprised to find me there."

Harry had to stop talking because the memory was so clear in his mind. Though he had been so young, Harry remembered not being afraid, it was as if some part of him remembered that sad face of the older man and couldn't bother to scrounge up any emotion other than relief.

Severus sat on the bed next to where Harry's knees were under the quilt. Harry looked up at him, but the man seemed lost in a memory of his own.

"The urge to take you away from there nearly drove me mad. You were so guileless, even after you'd been put in that little space so no one had to acknowledge your suffering. They didn't deserve you."

Harry hadn't expected the admission or the remorse in Severus' voice when he said it.

"You acknowledged me," he offered after a moment, it hurt to see the guilt in the other man's face and some part of him ached to fix it.

"Yes," Severus said bitterly. "For a few moments every year I would show you as much compassion and care as I could, and then take it away from you as soon as you'd started to believe that something could change."

Harry had felt self-loathing plenty of times, and he recognized this as such immediately. Before he could attempt to say anything, Severus wearily pulled a red handkerchief from the pocket of his robe and laid it next to Harry's hand, there was a question in his mind.

"I'm surprised you didn't continue taking them after your memories began returning, hiding your features would have made it easier to forget."

Reaching for it, Harry toyed with the knots he'd tied while attempting to find the words that would explain what he'd been thinking.

"You know better than anyone what I went through with the Dursley's. They were careful to not show me any sort of affection, so why would I ever want to forget that someone actually cared about me while I was there? Even if those moments were few and far between, even if I had to be forced to forget them, you still visited me when you could have found some other way to get the potion in my system, like you did when I was older."

Harry leaned forward, his back aching at the movement and ran a finger over the candy corn, remembering how he'd bite off each individual section as a child. Remembering how he'd sat on a street corner late one Halloween night eating them obliviously as Severus sat beside him looking sad and forlorn, Harry felt he had to say something else.

"I'm not mad at you. I don't think there was any way around it, given the circumstances, I know now that you couldn't let me remember you and continue to be a spy when he came back."

"Ah," Severus said, a bit awkwardly. "I didn't think you would be able to comprehend--"

"The immense sacrifices people make because they have no other choice?" Harry interrupted, and when Severus met his eyes, he was smiling a little grimly, but his eyes were bright with emotion. "You have to give me more credit than that now, I may not have been able to realize what you walking away from me meant a few years ago, I most likely would have been hurt and thought you really hated me just like how it seemed at school. But I walked straight up to Voldemort fully intending for him to kill me, and I didn't want to die...; but there wasn't another way to kill him and end the shitty war. I saw the big picture. Saw what the sacrifice would mean for others. Just like when you left me with the Dursley's."

There was a quiet moment in which they observed each other.

"You do understand," the quiet surprise in his tone made Harry smile and want to cry at the same time.

"Probably better than anyone else in the world."