Enemy Mine

Chapter Four: I Feel Terrible!

'Mummy, look!' Draco squealed with delight, dancing in circles through a cloud of butterflies. 'Look! I'm a futterbye!'

'You are?' laughed Narcissa, running up to her five year old son and capturing him in her arms. 'Lucky me! I've caught the best butterfly in the bunch!' She swung him in wide circles through the air, eliciting peals of ringing laughter from her son.

'Mummy! You're not supposed to capture me!'

'Oh, right...' Her warm, playful smile always made Draco feel at ease. 'We're supposed to be capturing the really little butterflies - not the big boy ones right?'

What Draco remembered most about these few peaceful times he had with his mother was the look of utter contentment on her face - a look seen only in these rare moments, when the two were left alone. For over an hour, Narcissa watched, as Draco carefully, and ever so gently, so as not to harm them, captured one butterfly after another to show her the different markings and colours before releasing it to go after another.

It never mattered what they were doing. Chasing butterflies, practicing his lessons... Draco knew joy when he and his mother were alone - she'd read to him, or listen to him talk while she held him in her lap, or, like today, she'd just watch him playing, not even trying to hide the look of contentment on her face.

At five, Draco already knew that his father was mean. He hurt him, and he hurt his mother. Everything good about himself, Draco knew, came from his mother. As far as Draco was concerned, everything good everywhere came from his mother. Her laughter was music, her voice a gift from above. She could sing him to sleep when bad dreams threatened, she could sing him healing when threats did damage, she could sing him cheer when sadness encroached... In his heart, he knew that she could sing light into the darkest night...

'What the hell is this nonsense?!' It was Lucius' angry voice that shattered their peace in the end though - as it always did eventually. 'Butterflies!!What are you playing at woman?!' he snarled. 'He's supposed to be with his tutor and you have him out here playing with pansy little butterflies?!' With a wave of his wand, Lucius incinerated the small swarm of insects that had enthralled his son. Draco watched in horror, hot tears burning his cheeks as they turned to dust, only to be swept away by the soft summer breeze.

'Crying?!' Lucius bellowed. 'My son is crying?! Like some squalling newborn infant?!' He turned on Narcissa who had been trying to move between her husband and her son. 'You!' he snarled, knocking her to the ground with the back of his hand. 'Are you trying to turn him into some simpering, cry-baby Poof?!'

Lucius had then dragged a now sobbing Draco back to the castle and taught him that he'd do as his father told him, he'd feel what he told him to, he'd believe what his father told him to believe - under threat of his mother's life if he disobeyed. Draco learned this lesson, and he learned it well, but that day, he learned something else: first, that his mother did the same under threat of her son's life, and second, to never show emotions in front of his father. That day was the last time his father saw him cry...

************

Damn thought Draco, as he regained consciousness for the third time in two days. Still here - it wasn't just a nightmare.

Automatically, he started to take mental stock of his condition. He was surprised for a minute by how little he actually hurt - until he remembered... Mum. He hadn't heard her song really, but he had felt its effects. It was a small pebble of hope under a river of fear... she was alive! Lucius hadn't killed her for trying to save him.

Unfortunately, as her singing had helped him to rest, she had to be nearby, and he doubted if she was merely in her sewing room... the dungeons maybe?

He was somewhat shocked then to find himself wondering about Harry - and even more surprised to find himself thinking of him as 'Harry' instead of 'Potter, the boy-he-hated'.

Being forced to stay in that Muggle house, Draco had learned that possibly, Harry didn't have life quite as easy as he'd always imagined. In fact, Harry's holiday life wasn't so very different in some ways from his own. Better in some respects - that stupid great Muggle didn't have magic to make things more interesting, but at least Draco had always had his mum, or the house elves to pick up the pieces after...

Was Harry down in the dungeons as well? Was he dead? No - when he'd thought him unconscious, his father had taken some of Draco's blood and told the other Death Eater to hurry up with both boys' tests, that they wouldn't contact their Master, until everything was ready. Draco also knew, from eavesdropping on many of his father's conversations, that Voldemort had a serious need to be the one to actually kill Harry... it seemed to be his main goal in life, though Draco hadn't discovered why. Still, it meant that Lucius wouldn't dare deprive his master of the privilege...

That meant there was still time... but for what? Time to imagine how we're all going to die, he thought helplessly, clenching his fists under the magical bonds that held him firmly in his bed.

***************

It had been an especially rousing Quidditch match that refused to be stopped even by the summer rain. Frequent landings to let his friends all have a go on his Nimbus 2000 had left Harry's shoes caked with mud. Eleven long years with Aunt Petunia's obsessive horror of such messiness had outweighed only a week in the relaxed and easy-going Weasley home.

Which was why, while Ron and the twins had run through the kitchen, mud and all, arguing over who got to shower first, Harry had stopped outside to remove his shoes.

Which, in turn, was how he came to be found, tip-toeing alone through a very muddy kitchen... holding a pair of very incriminating muddy trainers... by Mrs. Weasley.

'Er...' he stopped, staring at her nervously. 'It's raining... and muddy out and... er...' He hunched his shoulders in resignation, turning for the cleaning cupboard. 'I'll clean it up.'

'Why ever for Harry?' She sounded genuinely confused. 'I know that you didn't make this mess, and I know well and clear who did. And they will be the ones to clean it up. Frederick! Georgius! Ronald! You get yourselves down here this instant and clean up this mud! You've got until the count of five before I come up there and clean YOU up!!'

Harry instantly heard three sets of feet thundering down the stairs. 'Sorry, mum,' the three redheads echoed as they dashed past her, George in a bathrobe and soapy hair from an interrupted shower, to grab the mop and cloths to wash the floor.

'Honestly, Harry dear.' Mrs. Weasley smiled, turning back to him. 'It's sweet of you to try and cover for them, but - Ahhhh!' The sudden outcry made Harry jump and the muddy trainers fell to the floor (from which they were instantly whisked by a twin). 'What have you got on your feet?!' she demanded, pointing disgustedly.

'Um, socks?' he answered nervously. Looking down, he winced to notice that he was wearing a very nubbly old pair of Uncle Vernon's cast-offs. One toe was torn, the heels were worn nearly through, and they were so loose on him that he'd been forced to tie part of the unravelling top around each ankle to hold them on.

'Heaven's above, Harry!' Mrs. Weasley was in shock. 'You can't go about like that! Where did you get those horrible things?'

'They were my uncle's,' he muttered, shuffling his feet in a vain attempt to pull his loose toe back through the hole. 'I didn't want to wear my school socks in the mud and...'

'Well.' There was a slight tremor in her voice. 'They'll never do. I simply forbid it. I insist you take those things off at once.'

Though her tone was nothing but kind concern, Harry could feel his face burning with embarrassment as he sat on the bottom stair to pull off his socks. He couldn't make himself look at Mrs. Weasley as he dropped the articles in the wastebin she held out for him.

'You there!' The harshness of her words was only slightly diminished by the small quaver now present in her voice as she rounded on her sons. 'Not a spot of mud had better be left when I come back in here.' She turned back to Harry (who had been trying to blend in with the wallpaper and hoping that his face wasn't as red as it felt) and smiled kindly at him. 'Come with me please, dear.'

Even though her voice had been nothing but gentle when she'd spoken to him, Harry was still a bit apprehensive as he followed her into the living room. She walked directly to her usual chair, next to the fire and started rummaging through her knitting bag, which sat beside it. 'Here you are dear,' she said, warmly, handing Harry a pair of hand-knitted socks.

'Oh, Mrs. Weasley...' Harry backed up a step. 'No, I couldn't! Those are...'

'These,' Mrs. Weasley interrupted, 'are for you. Now be a good lad and put them on so I can make sure they fit. You shall hurt my feelings if you don't take them, Harry.'

Very reluctantly, he finally took the proffered socks, thanking his friend's mother shyly. To his great surprise, they fit perfectly, and were so comfortable, he thought that there must be some of her magic crafted into them. 'Thank-you Mrs. Weasley,' he muttered, staring at his knees. 'They're wonderful. I- I'm sorry I'm such a bother...'

'Harry,' she replied so seriously that Harry looked up, meeting her eyes. 'You are not, in any way, shape, or form - a bother. I don't want to hear anything of the sort. You're a pleasure to have here.'

Aunt Petunia had, on many occasions, tried to make Harry's hair lie flat. Cutting it, applying various products from soap to gel to grease, slicking it down with her hands - but never, in his whole life, could he ever remember anyone ever smoothing his hair as gently as Mrs. Weasley did then. This is a mother's touch he thought, as he closed his eyes, and leaned, ever so slightly into her hand.

Most boys Harry's age dreamed only about girls. And sex. But Harry (well, who's kidding who - he had those dreams too... he was fifteen after all!)... his favourite dream, whether waking or asleep, was of that day, and the first time he ever remembered feeling a mother's touch, as Mrs. Weasley gently smoothed his messy hair...

***************

Damn, thought Harry, regaining consciousness for the second time in as many days - had it been only two days? Still here...

The total blackness, so dark, it hurt his eyes... he had to bring his hands up to his face to be sure that his eyes were even open. The dampness of the cold stone floor... no, it hadn't been just a nightmare - he really was in a dungeon.

Weird, though... why do I feel so comfortable and rested...? He'd been having a wonderful dream... his favourite, actually. He sighed in contentment. It had felt so real, in spite of his current surroundings... he could still almost feel the touch of Mrs. Weasley's hand, smoothing his hair...

He'd never admit this out loud, but Harry'd always been a little bit jealous of his friends - and even his nemesis - for the parents they had... but a father who locked his mother in a dungeon...? Who was a Death Eater...? Who would beat a fifteen-year-old, scrawny underweight, boy? He couldn't be jealous of that... He pitied Draco for that.

Then he remembered... Draco's mum... she was half Veela, and she had healed him... she'd healed him! He wasn't sure why - she was clearly very worried about her son, but still, she'd been so kind to him...

The first time Harry'd seen Draco's mum had been at the Quidditch World Cup, last summer. She hadn't said anything, and Harry remembered thinking that she'd be really pretty, if she hadn't had such a foul expression on her face... He tried to picture that face now, but found that he couldn't reconcile what he remembered with the voice that had healed him, that had begged for information about her son, from his nemesis...

Nemesis - Draco Malfoy really was his nemesis, had been pretty much since they'd met. He was so nasty, so... evil... so like his father... sort of. The eyes were different, Harry thought. Draco always had a nasty, even vicious look when he was being horrible, insulting him or Hermione or Ron... but he lacked that madly hateful, gleefully evil look his father'd had when he'd been hitting Harry with that cane...

That look... Harry shuddered. A look that was made a hundred times creepier in the flickering torchlight... so much like the look Uncle Vernon wore... Was Draco truly evil himself? Or was he just the product of what his father had made him...?

'Harry?' Narcissa's voice was so close that Harry jumped when she spoke. 'Shhh,' she soothed, humming quietly.

Harry instantly felt himself relaxing, and was only mildly surprised to find that it had been her hand that had been gently smoothing his hair. He hadn't been imagining it after all... Oddly comforted by the unexpected display of affection, it took him a minute to realise that she was right next to him... in fact, his head resting in her lap. 'Are you...?' he began, disoriented.

'Yes,' she said very softly. 'I managed to dig around the bars - there was a small earthquake I think...' She sounded confused. 'That's never happened here before, but it dislodged some of the rock - what's wrong Harry?!' She was speaking to his back, as he sat up quickly.

'I'm sorry.' He turned a guilty face to her. 'It just got away from me... he made me so angry... I hope I didn't do too much damage...'

'I don't understand, Harry,' Narcissa replied, sounding completely baffled by his odd behaviour.

'The shaking,' he stammered. 'That was me... I...' He looked down, a conditioned response to guilt, even in the total darkness of the dungeon. 'I was just so angry...I felt it get away -'

'You did that?!' she demanded incredulously. 'You caused an earthquake?!'

'I'm sorry!' He swallowed hard, feeling miserable. 'I didn't mean...'

'Oh, God,' she muttered, the hand that had been resting on his shoulder starting to tremble before she pulled it away. 'Oh my God...Oh, God, Merlin, Medusa... please help us...'

'I'm sorry,' Harry repeated. 'I'll be careful, I promise! I'll try really hard not to let it happen again -'

'No, Harry,' she replied quickly. 'It's just... has anything like this ever happened before? Where you were really angry, or upset, or scared... and your magic 'got away from you' without benefit of a wand?'

'Yeah.' He shrugged. 'Well, never an earthquake before... but I accidentally magicked away the glass between my cousin and a really big snake at the zoo. And one time I accidentally popped myself up onto the roof of my school... a few other things too, but the worst before this was when I - ah, I blew up my aunt. Not the boom-splat kind of blown up,' he added quickly. 'Uh, just like a balloon - and she's not really my aunt, but I have to call her that...' He stopped and shrugged again. 'I always get in a lot of trouble for it, but I'm sure everyone has little accidents like that - don't they?'

'No, Harry,' she said incredulously. 'No, they do not...' How could he not know? she wondered... 'Harry, most witches and wizards are capable of small bits of unfocused magic without a wand - tiny things - calling your wand when you've dropped it during a fight... like that - and mostly just things on yourself - protections - a shield against being hit with something, not being injured when you fall... but, an earthquake... Harry, that's big! That most certainly is not normal...'

'Oh, great,' Harry moaned bitterly. 'Another one...'

'Another what?'

'Another reason I'm a freak!'

'What do you mean freak?!' demanded Narcissa quickly. 'Who said you're a freak Harry?'

'My aunt and uncle,' he scowled. 'But they're right! It's not enough that I survived and un-survivable killing curse and caused Voldemort to lose his body and live in exile, barely alive - when I was just a baby... No... then I find out when I'm eleven that I'm a wizard...' He was babbling, and he knew it. He just hoped that Narcissa didn't know how close he was to losing it at that particular moment. He felt certain that if just one more thing happened - just one more!! he'd go completely insane. '...and really famous for a stupid ugly great scar on my head. And then I keep surviving every time this stupid, super-scary nasty dark wizard tries to kill me, and I can do all these things I shouldn't be able to do, and then you add this... F-R-E-A-K!' he spelled out. 'Plain and simple.'

'Harry,' she said with barely controlled disgust. 'If I ever lay eyes on the Muggles who made you believe that load of...' She stopped for a moment, a soft growl in her throat - a single note that promised terrible things. 'I will sing them into oblivion.'

'I'm sorry,' Harry said again, and he truly was - he didn't mean to whine - and he'd clearly upset her. 'I didn't mean to...'

'It's alright, Harry.' He could hear in her voice the sad smile that must have been on her face. 'I'm sorry - I shouldn't lose my temper... You are not a freak,' she said very clearly, gripping his shoulders. 'Special, absolutely unique... in many ways, you are - but not a freak. You must believe me when I say this Harry.' He merely lowered his head. 'Now, I wasn't going to tell you this yet, but, I hope you'll take it as something good...' Harry raised his eyes slowly, looking nervous. 'Do you remember last night, when I warned you about the strong effect of the Veela song on unrelated men?' He nodded slowly, the darkness not hiding his blush from her. 'Well, you noticed that it didn't affect you like that?'

'Well,' he said, turning his face away in embarrassment, knowing that his face was glowing. 'I'm young - and I wasn't feeling well...'

'Harry,' she laughed. 'There's nothing wrong with you - you're a resister! That means you have the ability to resist the Veela charms...'

'Ha!' he snorted. 'I was ready to throw myself out of the top box at the world cup! Not much resistance there...'

'That was the first time you'd ever seen a Veela?' Harry nodded. 'And there were a lot of them, and you weren't prepared...' she smiled. 'Have you had any contact with Veela since the top box?' Harry thought about it - there was the Veela in the forest after the World Cup that Stan Shunpike had been trying to impress - he and Hermione had had to pull Ron away... and there was Fleur...

'See,' Narcissa had obviously been watching his face as he worked it out. 'Poor Harry, I hate to tell you this, but if we ever get out of here, you're going to have a hard time of it. Resisters are rare - very rare, and most are only resisters because they aren't wholly human - part Veela men, Vampires and Werewolves... but a wholly human male able to resist...' She chuckled softly. 'They'll be throwing themselves at your feet...' Harry looked truly horrified at the prospect.

'Are,' he croaked, his mouth dry. 'Are you sure it doesn't just mean that I'm gay or something? Or defective maybe?' Narcissa just laughed. 'Great,' he groaned. 'Just what I need.' There it is, one more thing... is this madness then? What's next? The ability to talk to Phoenix's? Skrewts? Astral projection? Faster than a speeding bullet? Able to leap tall buildings...Ohh, no. For his next freakish trick, Harry thought I'd like something nice and destructive please - ooh, I know - how about a nice sudden ability to kill Voldemort... Even his inner dialogue was starting to babble. Some small part of his brain told him not to think up such wild things - that mocking fate and his own abilities like this was - unwise... but unfortunately, he wasn't listening to that part of his brain at the moment...

'Oh, Harry.' Narcissa's laughter finally made it through his ears. 'You'll be the envy of every man.' She laughed even harder as Harry threw himself back with a huge groan.

**************

Draco was in poor shape.

After waking up earlier, feeling better than he had any right to feel, he'd quickly been brought back to reality by his father's cane. 'I feel terrible...' he muttered to himself.

'I is sorry to hear that young master, sir...' squeaked a voice at his ear, causing Draco to jump in surprise. 'Please hold still, this will be hurting muchly, sir...'

Draco didn't have much time to be alarmed by the presence of the house-elf in his room, as, without warning, the little creature grabbed his hand and twisted it sharply. The room gave an almighty lurch, but Draco stopped, mid-scream in the face of overwhelming nausea. Taking several deep breaths before he trusted himself to open his mouth again without vomiting, he turned to the elf angrily. 'What the hell did you do that for?'

'I is sorry, young master Draco,' the creature squeaked nervously. 'But master Lucius is telling Dotty to set sirs' broken wrist, sir...'

'Oh...' Draco tried really hard to bring the little elf back into focus, but failed. 'Uhm, thanks, Dotty...' Reality was becoming as difficult to hold onto as his tenuous grip on consciousness. 'He never even asked me any questions this time...' he muttered, before blackness enveloped him again.

****************

'Imagine your goal Harry,' Narcissa prompted. 'Think about what you want - picture it in your mind...'

Once Harry'd calmed down a bit, and stopped babbling incoherently, Narcissa had told him something that had given him the first hint of hope he'd felt since he'd been brought to these dungeons. Maybe, just maybe, if he'd done bigger magic without his wand before... he could do it again now to help them get out of here. Personally, he didn't have a lot of confidence in his ability to do any accidental (or on purpose) wandless magic without a Dursley there to provoke him in some way; on the other had, it wasn't as if he had anything much better to be doing just then either, and trying at least took his mind off of what might be coming next, or how worried Sirius must be...

'Are you picturing it Harry?' Narcissa's voice broke into his thoughts again.

Arrgh... 'Yes.'

'Good, now try and tap into a strong emotion - just like you did before accidentally. Feel the power of your emotion...' Though his eyes were screwed shut, and his body tense, he could feel her eyes on him as he concentrated on trying to unlock the door. 'Now put them together and make it happen - STOP! STOP!!' she cried, grabbing his shoulders and shaking him lightly.

Presently, the shaking stopped, and as the dust from the ceiling settled, Harry shook himself out of her grip. 'Oops, sorry,' he said, sitting back down on the ground, and pulling his hands roughly through his hair. 'You're wrong about me Narcissa,' he said, frustrated. 'All I can do is be destructive - honestly, I'm a menace - if I try that again, I'm likely to bring the whole place in on us.'

'No, Harry,' she growled, grabbing him roughly and pulling him back up. 'You're not giving up! Do you hear me?!' She was shaking him harder now, but didn't seem to notice. 'Very soon, they're going to have what they need from us, and then they'll kill you, they'll kill me and they'll kill my Draco!' She was screaming at him now, squeezing his arms as hard as she could, oblivious to her actions.

'I'm sorry - please!' His voice took on a desperate edge as he tried to break her grip. 'I'm sorry...'

'Oh my God!' she cried, releasing him at once. 'What have I done? Harry, I'm so sorry!' She reached out for him again, but he flinched away, rubbing painfully at his left arm, where it'd been broken. 'Please Harry!' Now she was begging. 'I'm so sorry! I - I'm just so scared...'

'I know,' he said kindly. 'But sill, it won't help us much for me to cave in the roof - it'd just be doing us in for them... And I don't really fancy that...'

'I know, I know...'

Harry could hear her pacing now, and it took him a minute to realise that she was humming again - only the relief in his broken arm made him notice.

*****************

'Why don't I have those results yet Peter?' Lucius snarled, sweeping into the study where Peter Pettigrew sat lounging.

Peter jumped, quickly pulling his feet down from the table where they'd been resting. 'I... Lucius...' he stammered. 'We couldn't go through regular channels, and too many of the staff at St. Mungo's are loyal to Dumbledore these days...'

'Spare me the details,' Lucius cut him off angrily. 'Just tell me when I'll have my results?!'

'Soon, Lucius.' Peter hunched in his chair, fidgeting with the hem of his robes. 'Very soon... Do you really think that they might be the ones who...'

'I don't know about Draco, though with my luck, it would seem likely...' Lucius growled, sitting down regally behind his desk and wiping the silver head of his cane with a cloth from the top drawer. 'As for Potter...' he spat his name. 'I am quite certain. He is rather old information actually. We've known about him since shortly after his birth. Thanks to that Mudblood mother of his, he was tested right away... and fortunately, we had a rather useful spy turn up with the information on his results. I'm only testing him again so that our Lord may not find any fault with the information I present to him....'

Lucius was cut off by a low rumbling and was forced to grab hold of the edges of his desk to maintain his balance as the entire castle shook for the second time in as many days.

'I didn't know that this area was prone to earthquakes!' Wormtail whispered, trembling from head to foot as he clutched his chair tightly.

'It's not...' Lucius ground out, his face colouring from anger. 'I have a bad feeling about this...' It can't be the boy! He's too young, Lucius had researched as much information as was available about the prophesy! And the boy in his dungeon should still be too young to manifest enough power to...

'Peter!' Lucius snapped, causing the other man to jump. 'Just to be sure, I want you to go down to the dungeon and check on the boy. Make sure he's not up to anything.'

'But surely...'

'NOW!!' Lucius' screamed order was enough, finally to send Peter scurrying for the entrance to the dungeons.

***************

Narcissa had gone back over to her own cell to take care of necessities. After he'd regained consciousness the first time, Narcissa had told Harry where there was a pot in the far corner of his cell for his use. He had been quite shy about using it, knowing that she could see in the dark - he had made her swear to several Gods that her eyes were securely shut and that there was no one else watching before he'd finally given in. Though the fact that he was doubled over from the pain of an overfull bladder had helped as well...

'I'm sorry,' he muttered for the hundredth time.

'Harry,' Narcissa replied coming back into his cell. 'I already told you not to worry about it. There's no reason to expect you to be able to control it if you haven't before. Still,' she sighed, laying her hand on his shoulder. 'I don't think you'd better try it again...'

'Well, well.' A sneering voice startled them both. Wormtail had snuck up in his rat form and transformed, just outside the bars to Harry's cell. 'Incendio.' His spell lit the torch, bracketed on the wall.

Narcissa blinked once, her eyes adjusting almost instantly to the sudden brightness. Harry was not so lucky. Most unfortunately for him, he happened to have been staring directly at the tip of Wormtail's wand when he uttered the spell. Wide-open pupils had absorbed way too much of the light from the Incendio spell, leaving his eyes watering profusely, while nothing but large spots danced in front of his vision.

'My, my...' Wormtail smirked as Narcissa pushed a temporarily blinded Harry behind her. 'What have we here? Little bird managed to fly into the wee boy's cage? Isn't he a bit young, even for you?'

'Where's Lucius?' she demanded icily.

'Upstairs, getting things ready for your little friend here's death.'

With the slightest squeeze to his forearm, Narcissa told Harry to keep quiet and play along with what she was about to do. 'What a crafty man you are to have snuck up on me like that...' Her voice had changed again to a cadence that Harry hadn't heard from her before, though he instantly recognized the power it had over Wormtail, whose countenance Harry could see through the spots in front of his eyes, had gone quite glassy...

'You're right, of course,' she whispered, her voice making Wormtail lean in, grabbing the bars to be closer. 'He is much too young for me. But, now that you're here...'

Ewwww!! thought Harry, as he saw Pettigrew practically panting over Narcissa.

'If you open the doors...' Narcissa had no more suggested it, than Pettigrew had obliged, hunched forward, his eyes gazing lovestruck at her. She leaned in to whisper briefly in his ear, and in an instant, Wormtail was away, jogging up the dungeon stairs.

'What did you say to him?' Harry whispered.

'Shhh,' Narcissa replied, pulling him after her through the door Wormtail had left open. 'He's disabling the wards and opening the other doors. Stay close.'

Harry silently obeyed, marvelling at the look of stark determination on her face as his vision began to clear - well, as much as it could clear without his glasses...

****************

'Open up damn you!' Sirius bellowed, pounding on the door to #4 Privet Drive. When no answer came, he jumped up and down several times to peer into the small window imbedded in the top portion of the front door. 'Oh, bugger all!' he growled, punching the door and leaving a slight dent in it. 'They're not home! Where the hell are they?!' He turned to look desperately at the others. 'What are we going to do now?'

'Well,' Snape sneered. 'As we're wizards, we could break in rather easily and see if we can find out where they are, or when they might be back... Unless you've forgotten a simple unlocking charm...'

'You know, Snape...' Sirius began furiously, only to be cut off by the sharp voice of the headmaster.

'You two are really starting to stretch my patience - Alohamora' he muttered, pointing his wand at the door. 'Inside, all of you, before we start attracting too much attention standing out here.'

Once they had ascertained that none of the Dursley's were, in fact, home, Albus, Arabella, Remus, Sirius and Severus gathered in the front hall.

'Mr. Black, Mr. Snape,' Albus said in as ice a tone as any of them had ever heard. 'I'd like a work with the two of you, while we wait for their return. In the kitchen will do.' The two dark haired men stood in shock, their spluttering protests cut short by the old wizard's hard look.

'Arabella, Remus?' he asked, turning a kinder - if weary gaze on them. 'If you'll excuse us for a few minutes? I'd appreciate it if you would watch the front for the Dursley's return. Gentlemen...' His steely tone sent Sirius and Severus skulking through to the kitchen.

'Wow...' breathed Arabella as she and Remus took station in the sitting room where they could see the driveway through a window. 'You don't see him angry like that very often... I don't much envy those two right now...'

'He's very stressed,' Remus muttered. 'He's wearing himself ragged worrying about everything: Harry - Draco - Sirius - Severus - all of us...' He sighed, still staring out the window and not meeting Arabella's eyes. 'I guess those two constantly at each other's throats is just getting to him.'

'What's he saying to them?' she asked, a slight look of mischief interrupting her worried mask.

'Mum!' he replied, aghast. 'Is this the same woman who used to yell at me that just because I could hear better than everyone else didn't mean that I should abuse...'

'Yes, yes...' She waved off his mild rebuke. 'One has to say things like that to children. So you learn right from wrong and all that. Right now though...' She smirked. 'I want to know if he's giving them a proper - ' She broke off when Remus choked, stifling a laugh. 'What?!' she demanded.

'He just threatened to summon the old school cane. 'I don't care if you're thirty-eight, if you both insist on acting like twelve-year-olds I will start treating you like twelve-year-olds.' What?' he snorted to her superior look. 'Just because I said I shouldn't be eavesdropping doesn't mean I won't. Besides, the walls are thin - it's not like I can help hearing... Oh!' He motioned past Arabella to the window. 'A car just pulled in the driveway. I'll get Albus - the Dursley's know you, they might not be so alarmed if it's you who greets them.'

************

'Alright Harry,' Narcissa whispered as they rushed up the stone steps. 'When we get back above ground, I want you to find a door, or window, or Floo, or anything and get out of here right away...'

'What about you?' he demanded, alarmed by the implication that she wouldn't be leaving with him.

'Draco,' she whispered, her voice filled with pain. 'I can't... You don't understand... my husband with force him to join... to become... what he is,' she finished awkwardly.

'A Death Eater?' Harry gasped out, his chest aching as the seemingly endless stairs reminded him forcefully of the fact that it had been two, maybe three days since he'd last eaten.

Narcissa's sombre look was all the confirmation Harry required, and he couldn't argue with the sentiment. Whether Draco wanted to be a Death Eater or not, (though, his temperament during their week of extra lessons suggested that he didn't) if Harry could stop Voldemort from adding even one more Death Eater to his ranks... even one more... even if it was Malfoy...

'I'll stay with you. We'll get him out too...' he said finally, grim determination in his voice.

'No! Harry, you're too important... You must get out...' They had stopped now on a landing, a warm, fire-lit room beckoning from the other side of the open dungeon door, only a handful of steps away.

'Listen,' Harry reasoned gently. 'Even if I knew how to get out and I managed it without getting caught...' He thought fleetingly of how useful his invisibility cloak would be about now... 'If I get out, I have no idea where we are. I can't Apparate, and I don't have my wand...' He scowled, cursing Malfoy Sr. for taking it. 'So I can't even summon the Knight Bus... We'd be better off trying to get out together...'

Harry never knew if Narcissa would have let him help her rescue Draco, or forced him to leave by the closest Floo, for at that moment, a large form appeared in the door frame, blocking the warm light from the room without...

'Alas,' Lucius Malfoy's voice flowed down to them. 'That will not be happening. Do come up though - the both of you.' He sneered maliciously at Narcissa as she and Harry entered the anteroom. 'The results have just come in from the blood tests we did on young Harry here and our own dear Draco. Really, Narcissa,' he went on in a condescending voice, flicking her matted hair from her shoulder. 'The state of you... and, by all accounts, worming into the boy's cell? A last bit of fun was it? Disgusting,' he snarled, grabbing her roughly. 'He's the same age as your son...'

What she did next not only surprised Harry, but it raised his feeling of respect for Narcissa Malfoy another notch: she spat in her husband's face and brought her knee up sharply. Still, Harry couldn't help but groan in commiseration as the blond wizard shoved her back forcefully and doubled over, grabbing his knees, his face paling to nearly transparent.

'You bitch!' Lucius ground out before muttering a quick healing spell on his groin. Apparently the pain made him forget magical retaliation for a minute, because as soon as he could stand again, he lunged forward and punched his wife across the jaw. Far smaller than her husband in stature, and weakened from her imprisonment, Narcissa fell heavily to the floor and didn't move right away. Long enough for Lucius to magically bind and gag her.

Harry, who had lunged forward to help her when Lucius had hit her, could only watch as her eyes regained their focus, only to glare at her husband with such menacing hatred that Harry actually shuddered slightly. He turned, intending to say something scathing only to find himself facing the elder Malfoy's wandpoint. Before he could even fully register this fact though, he was hit with a spell - not an unforgivable, though this was small comfort to Harry who found himself flying at great speed through the corridors and into a room where he was slammed against a wall so hard that he was momentarily stunned, stars literally floating across his vision. He was only vaguely aware of thick iron manacles slithering up to bind his wrists and ankles firmly against the wall, preventing him from falling to the floor in a heap.

A minute later, just as he was beginning to regain his senses, Harry saw Lucius Malfoy walk in, dragging Narcissa by her ropes and followed by a slouching Wormtail. It was only when Lucius dumped her on the floor in front of a large chair that Harry noticed that Draco was in this room as well - bound to that chair as tightly as he was bound to the wall.

**************

'What the...'

'Hello Vernon, Petunia... Dudley.' Arabella smiled, trying to look harmless so the family didn't start screaming and run from their home. 'There is an urgent matter I wish to speak with you about - please come inside.'

'Mrs. Figg?' demanded Petunia, looking at her curiously. 'What are you doing...? How did you get in here?'

'Please...' Arabella beckoned them in and toward the kitchen. 'It's important.'

Though they looked at her as if she'd gone completely senile, the three did finally step in and shut the door. Arabella felt two streams of magic whiffle past her, locking the door and erecting a sound muffling charm. The Dursleys however, still hadn't noticed that anything (other than their neighbour standing in the middle of their foyer) was amiss.

Half a breath later though, the exact nature of the situation hit home for the Dursleys when four robe-clad wizards strode purposefully from the kitchen. It was then, as the saying goes, that all hell broke loose. Petunia let out a shriek and seemed to fall away in a dead faint; however, when her husband failed to halt her descent, allowing her to thud ungracefully to the floor, she glared up at him with a huff.

Vernon, for his part did not move, he did not yell, he did not sputter - he barely seemed to be breathing - that is until Dudley let out an ungodly shriek and started pounding on the door. Arabella was immediately grateful for whoever had had the forethought to put up the Quiet neighboursTM charm... between Petunia screaming, Dudley shrieking and pounding on the door and Vernon's bellows, they'd have roused the dead otherwise.

'SILENCE!!' Even the Muggles seemed to recognise and instantly obey the power and impatience in the order issued by the Headmaster and fell silent instantly. But the quiet didn't last, barely stopping for a breath, Vernon - quite unwisely began speaking again.

'Get out.' Dursley was shaking - as much from fear as from anger as he spoke, pointing angrily at the Headmaster. 'I've told you before, we don't want your kind...' But before he could finish the insult, Sirius had transformed and launched himself in dog form at Vernon, bowling him back against the door, only an inch away from squashing Dudley.

Before anyone else could react, Arabella had grabbed him roughly by scruff of the neck and yanked him back. 'Sirius! No!' she yelled angrily, thwaping him hard on the snout eliciting a painful sounding yelp from the black dog. 'You go over there if you can't keep your head.' She pointed angrily back toward where the others stood waiting. 'Attacking won't get us what we need. GO!' At the anger in her voice Sirius whined, his tail between his legs as he ran quickly behind Remus and Albus before transforming back again, rubbing his nose in pain.

'Ow...' he grumbled. 'Arabella,' he practically whimpered. 'We don't need his blood,' he nodded toward Vernon. 'He's not a blood relative...' Her glare stopped him from continuing, and he quickly crouched further behind Albus.

Snape's grunt of amusement was abruptly aborted when Arabella turned her attention on to him. Quailing under her glare, he suddenly decided that perhaps Sirius wasn't being cowardly when he hid from that anger... 'Err,' he cleared his throat nervously. 'Yes, well... for the potion, the aunt would be a better donor. She's the closer blood relative...' He knew he was babbling, and would have found it much more alarming if he hadn't noticed that even Albus seemed to keep his distance from this woman when she was riled. 'Although, it could be done with the cousin's blood if we can't get enough from her...'

The silence that followed this stuttering pronouncement lasted only a moment before mayhem once more erupted in the small foyer.

Petunia fainted - for real this time. Vernon started yelling threateningly about summoning the constables only to be drowned out by his son who started shrieking the moment it got through to his brain that they might want his blood. Bowling over Vernon (who very nearly crushed his wife when he fell), Dudley pounded to the stairs, knocking Arabella over in his haste.

'Mum!' Remus cried, hearing a painful sounding thump as her head hit the wall on her way down. He was at her side in a flash, Albus and Sirius - his fear of her from only a moment before forgotten instantly - right behind him.

'Petrificus Totalus!' Severus yelled, aiming the spell at the obese boy who froze halfway up the stairs. Any woman who could reduce such powerful wizards as himself, Albus, Lupin and even (though he was loathe to admit it) Black to cowering, stuttering boys deserved more than to be shoved into a wall by such a reckless, fat, stupid Muggle child as this.

'What?!' he demanded, flustered at the shocked expressions sent his way. 'He might have gotten away.' It's not because I was angry that he might have hurt her. I don't care about her - or any of you. What?! Stop looking at me like that!!

'Has the Muggle Impervious potion worn off then?' Arabella asked, an amused glint in her eyes as she regained her feet, brushing off the concerned wizards around her.

'It must have done,' Sirius replied, though he looked confused. 'When was he last dosed?'

'Yesterday,' Albus replied, looking curiously at the frozen boy before affecting a more voluntary freeze on the elder male Dursley with a glare when he started to get to his feet.

'Yesterday?!' Sirius erupted. 'It's supposed to last a month in their systems. Who is the idiot who brewed it?'

'There is nothing wrong with the potion I brewed Black.' Severus replied in a deadly low voice.

'Of course it was you!' Sirius fumed, stepping closer to him. 'I should have known you'd cock up something as simple as an Impervious potion. Accidentally, of course...'

The implication that he'd sabotaged the potion hung in the air for only a second before Severus was stepping forward. 'Look Black...' he began, glaring death at the other man. He didn't finish however as before he could step any closer, or say anything else,Arabella was between them, shoving them furiously apart.

'Stop it! Just Stop it.' She was furious, and both wizards were again stepping nervously out of her reach, but she grabbed both by the fronts of their robes. 'You,' she snarled at Severus. 'Go and collect the blood from the woman. Now!' She shoved him toward the cowering couple, still on the floor. 'You,' she turned furiously to Sirius, who covered his nose protectively out of instinct. 'Go and stand against the wall there before I really lose my temper with you.'

***************

'Mum...?' Draco croaked. He struggled to grasp more firmly onto consciousness. He was losing the battle though: the room kept blurring... blackening at the edges. Then suddenly, he felt a calming warmth envelope him. What is that? he wondered vaguely. It was a familiar feeling... a familiar sound...

'Stop that!' Lucius' loudly barked order ended the soothing feeling abruptly and Draco heard a thud and a grunt of pain from near his feet. Looking down, he tried in vain to identify the form on the floor, but before he spoke again to ask who was there, the comforting humming resumed and he closed his eyes with a contented sigh...

Mum... he smiled, drifting into his memories of his mother's healing love. Mum... Mummy's voice... she must be close...

'I said STOP!!' bellowed Lucius, incensed. 'Crucio!'

The gentle humming was instantly replaced by anguished, muffled cries of pain. This, combined with the sound of another voice, screaming in anger, yelling obscenities, brought Draco to a sudden, harsh total consciousness.

'Goddamn you! Stop it!!'

Potter! It was Potter - screaming obscenities at Lucius!Draco realised with surprise.

'Stop it you sick freak!! You bastard...'

Oh-My-God! thought Draco swinging his head around. Potter is crying! And where did he learn that kind of language?! he wondered as Harry hurled profanity after profanity at Lucius. And where did he find the balls to scream at Lucius Malfoy like that?

'You fucking sick bastard! Leave her alone... stop it... stop it...' Harry was sobbing now and Draco turned away from him, trying again to identify just who Lucius was torturing.

For the briefest of moments - probably no longer than the time between heartbeats, Draco locked his eyes with the pain-deadened violet eyes of his mother. He felt his heart freeze and all his blood rushing in his ears like waves in that instant. To him, it seemed as if a lifetime passed as his mother's gaze pierced into him, then she drew a deep, shuddering breath... and started to hum again.

It was not the beautiful voice of his mother that he knew and loved; the usual warmth of it was tinged with such sadness and pain that Draco was certain that his heart would die under the weight of it. Lucius hadn't lifted his Cruciatus curse, but she was still trying to hum. Gagged and in pain, she wouldn't stop trying to help her son...

'Idiot woman!' Lucius snarled, lifting his curse at last. 'Wormtail!' he snapped. 'Over here... Now! Both of us together.'

With only a slight flicker of unease, Wormtail skulked over, raising his wand beside Lucius.

'You will learn, boy,' Lucius snarled at the now weeping Draco. 'You will learn not to cry over this thing.' He nudged Narcissa with the toe of his boot before nodding to Wormtail.

'Crucio!!' they said together.

The humming stopped, and this time, both Harry and Draco screamed for her as Narcissa whimpered into the gag around her mouth, her body rigid and arched from pain.

The men didn't move, or lift their wands for several seconds even after she finally fell limply back to the ground. Unconscious... or worse...

Both boys were sobbing by the time it was over, bruised, and even bloodied from where they'd both struggling against their bonds.

'Mum...' Draco whispered,his voice hoarse from yelling. She didn't move, her breathing shallow and rasping and her face gaunt and drawn even in unconsciousness. A sudden, hard slap across his face brought Draco back out of the well of darkness he had been rapidly following his mother into.

'Draco!' Lucius said with disdain, holding Draco's chin in a vice-like grip, his face mere inches away. 'Be a man. You do not weep for this creature. She's not even half human, and a traitor besides...'

'She is not!' Draco growled in return, wrenching his chin out of his father's grip. 'Harry's right, you are a sick fuck. My mother is more human as you have ever been!' Before he could go on any further, Lucius hit him again, hard enough that his head struck the back of the chair, and he saw stars for a minute.

'You fucking bastards!' Harry screamed at Lucius and Wormtail. 'You're cowards! They're fucking tied up!!'

'You know,' snarled Lucius, stepping over the unconscious form of his wife. 'You really are a nuisance, boy. My Lord wants you alive...' He stepped in front of Harry, who was still struggling against the chains binding him to the wall. 'But I don't think he'd mind if I played with you a bit before I turn you over to him... Crucio!'

Draco cringed in sympathy and was surprised to hear his own voice shouting over Harry's screams of pain, begging his father to stop. But it didn't help. It wasn't until Wormtail shouted out, reminding him that Voldemort wanted Harry sane, as well as alive, that Lucius finally lifted his curse.

Harry was gasping for breath, now slumping heavily against the wall, his arms limp in their manacles.

'I knew your parents, Harry.' Lucius taunted. 'Oh, not as well as I would have liked... especially that mother of yours...' Harry lifted his head to glare at this, causing Lucius to laugh.

'Do you remember it Peter?' he smirked, twirling his wand in his hands. 'The night they died? It was brilliant! Or it was up until the end...' He sighed, reaching out to cup Harry's face in a mockery of friendly concern. 'We were just outside...' He motioned to Wormtail, who had moved back and was now leaning against a pillar in the middle of the room, looking up through the skylight. 'Standing guard, in case reinforcements arrived... they didn't, of course...'

Draco watched as Harry's face contorted with a growing rage. When Lucius had first begun speaking, Harry'd gone pale, but as he continued, Draco saw a rage induced flush creep across his face. And his eyes... his eyes were flashing in a way that, if he hadn't been chained to a wall, Draco would have described as Dangerous looking.

'The smartest thing Peter did afterward was to frame that fool Black for his own crimes! That truly was a bit of brilliance...' Lucius laughed again, finally releasing Harry's face with a shove, causing his head to impact the wall with a crack.

'But ahhh,' Lucius sighed. 'That mother of yours, Harry. I'd have traded this thing...' He motioned to Narcissa's unconscious body, 'for her in a second if she'd had a drop of pure blood in her. It really was a pity that she refused to obey my Master...' He leaned in again, a leering smirk on his face. 'If only she hadn't angered him so, she might've lived a little longer... we all could have had such fun with her before she died. Such a waste the way things happened... she was a pretty wee Mudblood your mother was, my boy. Yes, she would have been a fun toy...'

Draco had heard of people having a single moment of clarity just before they died.

He had heard that time was relative - that a single moment could last forever - that time could contract and expand at will. He had heard that certain magicks could fracture the universe. Until this moment, he had never believed a word of it...

Until this moment, he had never seen Harry Potter completely lose control... Until this moment...

Later, he would wonder if he'd imagined what happened next, if the wild raw magic flying over him in waves hadn't caused him to hallucinate...

He felt himself teetering on the edge of oblivion. He imagined that for a second that seemed to last an eternity, the World literally stood still. The Universe stopped, and every atom in creation turned in terror to a large room in a large castle where two smallish, not quite fifteen-year-old boys were being held...

Draco blinked, and when he reopened his eyes, time righted itself, and the Universe seemed to slam violently back into position. When he looked at Harry, Draco knew what was the cause of the currents of raw magic swirling around them. In that instant, Harry, a look of pure, unadulterated fury on his face, opened his mouth and screamed.

It was not a scream of fear, nor could it be said to be of anger - for anger is too simple, too calm an emotion for what this was. Draco felt the air whoosh out of his lungs as the sound of it hit him.

This was a scream that could end the world.

Every human and inhuman emotion was within it, and it hurt not only his ears to hear it, but his whole body, his heart - his soul was crying out in despair.

He was shaking, tears streaming down his face, his mouth open in a silent, commiserating scream. But the pain he was in was nothing compared to what his father and Wormtail were apparently feeling...

When it had first begun, Lucius had fallen back until he was once more in front of Draco. Very quickly, he and Wormtail were on their knees, clawing at their ears... crying out loud, in madness...

Draco looked over to his father, pleading with him with his eyes to help him, but as bits of plaster and stone started falling around them, Lucius flickered, and Apparated away. Wormtail followed immediately after him.

For the second time, Draco felt a crushing pain in his chest, but this time, it wasn't Harry's magic that caused it. This time, it was the bitter pain of betrayal.

After everything, his father had abandoned him...

He didn't have long to mull over that thought though, as more and more debris was falling around him... It wasn't him shaking, the whole building was quaking in its' foundations. Bits of the ceiling were falling in now and Draco could see patches of sky peeking through. The structure was collapsing... the castle was shuddering and giving way to the overwhelming power vibrating through it. Potter's power... Potter's magic...

As the magic of the castle faltered, the chains binding both of them fell away, useless. Draco leaped up, hunching over his mother in an attempt to protect her. Harry fell to the ground when the chains released him, and the jolt finally stopped his scream, and so his magic...

But it was too late, the foundations, the walls, none of it would hold up much longer.

He knew they wouldn't survive, that they would be crushed to death, any moment now. There was no escape. Suddenly, Draco felt overcome with anger. Anger toward Harry. His father had left him to die, and Harry was going to be the one to kill him. Kill them all. The two of them, the elves, he was sure there were several other Death Eaters in another part of the castle... and Mum...

A book fell near him from a high shelf, and in a fit of jealousy and rage he picked it up and hurled it at Harry. In another situation, the look on Harry's face when the book hit him on the shoulder might have been comical, but as it was, Draco could only shriek: 'You've killed us! The roof is collapsing! We're all going to die! And we can't even try to put up any of or stupid shields because I don't know where my fucking wand is!!'

Draco might have gone on, but at that instant, all hell broke loose.

*************

In an ordinary Muggle house very far away a witch and four wizards stopped in their tracks, looking pained and somewhat disoriented.

'What the hell...?' demanded Severus turning away from Petunia Dursley who had been cowering in her chair, trying desperately to come up with a way to stop the wizard from stealing even a drop of her blood.

'Harry!' cried Sirius, clutching the wall for support.

'Sirius,' Remus said quickly, moving to comfort his distraught friend. 'We don't know...'

'No,' interrupted Dumbledore gravely. 'I think it is Harry... but...' He turned to Severus so suddenly that the normally unshakable wizard jumped slightly. 'Severus, Malfoy Manor. Are the wards still up?'

Severus blinked, taking only a second to try to connect with the Malfoy castle in order to Apparate there... and gasped. This time it was he who needed to clutch at the wall for support. He knew what it signified if the wards were as completely down as he felt they were... 'They're down!' he cried. 'The wards are down! I have access!'