Under Your Spell

Under Your Spell

Never the Sun on My Face

By the Empress of the Eclipse

~~~

Harry screamed as Hedwig dropped to the floor in a twisted lump of lifeless white feathers, neck turned right round. He staggered backwards, staring at Lucius Malfoy with total horror. The ice grey eyes stared flatly back at him, completely emotionless.

"Harry!" Draco said, rushing up and grabbed his arm. "Harry, are you okay? Did the owl hurt you?"

Harry stared at him wildly, unable to believe what he was hearing. How could they lie to him like that, how dare the Malfoy's pretend...

Fake it Harry. Fake it, fake it, fake it...

"N-no," Harry choked out. "No, sh - it didn't, it didn't. What did you do that for, why did you kill...?"

"I thought it was going to hurt you," Lucius said calmly, leaning down and lifting Hedwig carelessly up. In a swift and easy movement, he pocketed the letter "It's...well, I'll let Draco explain that. Don't worry Harry. It's just an owl."

He swept out leaving Harry staring after him in shock. He didn't realise he was trembling until Draco took his arm and led him to the couch, helping him sit down.

"It's all right," he said. "You're all right. Don't panic Harry, I'm really sorry that happened..."

"Sorry? That your father just killed some poor bird? You're sorry?"

Harry knew that this would seem suspicious but he didn't care. He wanted to kill Malfoy, wanted to kill them both dead. Hedwig...Lucius Malfoy had just killed his Hedwig...

"It was just a bird," Draco said, sounding bewildered. "I know it was scary to have some random bird on your shoulder but that's all it was. Just a bird."

Harry stared at him, completely disbelieving. Even if it hadn't been his owl...even if it hadn't been his Hedwig, even if he hadn't been able to remember who she was, he could not have looked at that dead bird on the floor and believed any sort of story about her being just a bird. He could never believe any story that this bird was not important because until a few minutes ago, that bird had been alive.

"You callous bastard," he said, not caring how suspicious it might look, not caring about anything but not bursting into hysterical tears. He would not cry in front of Draco Malfoy, he wouldn't. He quietly swore that no matter what happened to him while he was here, he would never cry in front of any of the Malfoys. He swallowed back the heavy lump in his throat and glared defiantly at Malfoy, who was looking shocked, offended and hurt. Despite his rage, Harry couldn't help rather admiring Draco's acting skills. All the anger that had to be there was hidden under a mask of one whose boyfriend had just said something hurtful.

"I...I didn't realise it was callous," he said in a hurt voice. "You never seemed to care before."

"Maybe the bump changed me," Harry said sharply, turning away. Oddly enough, there didn't seem to be any risk of crying now. His eyes were so dry that they burnt hotly in his face and his fists kept flexing.

"Harry," Draco said, sounding pacifying. "I'm sorry. I don't know what to say to you. It was just a bird. What else can I say to you?"

Harry said nothing. He knew there was nothing that Draco could say to him. Draco probably couldn't understand anyway. Lucius Malfoy didn't care. Narcissa Malfoy wouldn't have cared if she'd been there. How could Harry expect him to?

"Harry," Draco said, sounding timid. "Do...what do you want to do now?"

"I want to go back to my room," Harry said shortly.

"Okay," Draco said, sounding soft and sad. "I'll take you upstairs."
"I can find my own way," Harry said. Scrambling up, he marched out of the room, leaving Draco behind.

He didn't go back up to the bedroom. He went up the stairs, then began to wander through the buildings. He wanted to find out what this place was like, wanted to find out any escape routes.

He knew it was pointless after only about ten minutes of wandering. Everything felt the same, even though all the rooms were totally different. Harry was pretty soon lost in tiny, dark, wandering corridors. It was creepy and Harry was beginning to feel distinctly worried. He opened door after door to scan dark and silent rooms. Most of them looked like they hadn't been used for years. Some of the furniture was even covered with dust sheets.

Harry opened the door to about the sixty-millionth room and peered inside. He had to swallow a scream of shock as eyes turned to him. Silent, staring eyes. Ghosts. He'd just walked into a room full of ghosts. He'd never seen ghosts quite like them before though. They were the silvery-white of the Hogwarts ghosts but their eyes were black and staring and they were looking at Harry in an almost hungry way.

"Sorry," he stammered, very aware that he was sweating slightly. "Sorry. I'll just...I didn't mean to intrude."

The ghosts didn't speak. But Harry could hear a strange whispering running through the room, a stirring. As he backed away, fumbling with the door, the ghosts rose up in a great cloud of silvery-white and swooped at him. Harry yelled and reached for his broken wand, wondering how you were supposed to fight ghosts. As he tried to pull it out, ice cold hands closed around his arms and throat.

Ghosts can't touch people!

Harry thought briefly, before the pain hit him. Stabbing from all corners of his body where the ghost hands were touching him, like being stabbed with cold diamond bladed knives. Harry yelled again, trying to pull away. But the ghost things were effectively numbing his body and he couldn't feel his arms and legs any more to get them away. He yelled again, kicking desperately, even though he knew it was hopeless. As he passed out, he thought unhappily that perhaps there was a reason the Malfoys hadn't wanted him off on his own.

* * * *

"...why precisely, did you let him up there in the first place?"

"Mother, I didn't! I'm not completely stupid! I thought he was in his room!"
"Why weren't you keeping an eye on him then?"

"I assumed he'd stay there! He was upset after Father ripped the head off his owl!"

A sharp sound like a whip crack jolted Harry from his half awake state to a fully awake one. He resisted the urge to open his eyes and lay very still, listening to the conversation. He rather hoped to hear something important or at least something that he could use later. Besides, he knew what he would see. Draco and Narcissa Malfoy standing in the room that Harry supposed he had to call his own. Or maybe he was back in that stupid sick room, only made so that the Malfoys could prepare a room with fake memories in for him.

Controlling his anger, Harry kept listening. Narcissa was speaking, her voice icy and controlled as always.

"Don't speak to me in that tone Draco. Your father did the only thing that he could in the circumstances. I was foolish not to think that Dumbledore would send the owl out to find him. Fortunately, the creature was stupid enough to fly straight in rather than exercising the caution any of our owls would if delivering a private message."

Harry felt his fists clench on the sheets and forced them to relax, hoping it hadn't been noticed.

"She probably missed him," Draco said, a slight quaver in his voice that Harry wondered if he was imagining.

"Don't be silly," Narcissa said crisply. "It was just a bird."

Harry heard a soft swoosh of robes as somebody stood up.

"When he wakes, make sure he knows that the upper house is off limits. As is everything unless he is with one of us."

"Yes Mother."

The door opened, then closed and Harry heard somebody sigh. Then Lucius said softly. "Are you all right Dragonfly?"

"Yes Father."

"You shouldn't speak to your mother that way."

"I know."

"It worries you doesn't it? Having Potter in the house."
"You know it does. And you could have warned me our Lord was going to show up yesterday!"

"We wanted to see if he reminded Potter of anything. Happily, it would appear that he didn't."

"What if he had? How are you going to explain the memories that he does get back?"

"Draco, trust your mother. She has thought of everything."

There was a silence then, a silence that seemed to stretch on for hours even though it probably only lasted a few minutes. Frustrated, Harry opened his eyes a crack, peering out through his eyelashes to look around. What he saw made his eyes snap open in shock.

Lucius Malfoy was kissing Draco. Not a fatherly kiss either. It was a deep kiss on the lips that quite clearly spoke of lovers rather than relatives. Draco was trembling slightly but making no effort to get away. Harry stared, his stomach churning unpleasantly. This was wrong. He might not know much about family life and might only have second hand experiences of a loving family but he knew that this was beyond wrong. No father did that to his son.

Lucius had left Draco's lips now and was kissing his neck tenderly. Draco's eyes were turned up to the ceiling and Harry realised they were glistening as Draco fought tears. Harry resisted the urge to leap up and pull Lucius off Draco and closed his eyes again instead. Then he coughed loudly and let his eyes flutter as though just waking up. A second later, he felt Draco's hand close round his and when he let his eyes open properly, the blond was staring at him anxiously. Lucius stood just behind him, looking slightly frustrated. Harry pretended not to notice.

"Hey," he said to Draco, surprised at how croaky his voice was. "How's things?"

"Fine," Draco said. "Well, not fine, I've been worried about you, you prat! You should have said you wanted to explore, I'd have taken you! You don't go up to the top levels!"
"What were those things?" Harry asked, pushing himself into a sitting position. His body felt heavy and strangely cold and he found himself coughing violently. Draco put a hand on his shoulder and made him lie back down.

"Those are the spectres," Draco said. "The dead Malfoys of time past."
"Ghosts?" Harry said, a little confused.

"No, spectres," Draco said firmly. "There's a big different. Ghosts are pretty harmless - they can wander around moaning and scaring the daylights out of Muggles but that's about it. Spectres...those are more unpleasant. Only certain humans become spectres. They remember being alive and have a strong hatred for those who still are. You wandered right into their nest so they tried to drain your life force. That's why you feel so weak right now, they've drained you. You were lucky one of the house-elves heard you screaming."

"Oh," Harry said weakly, not knowing what else to say. Lucius reached over and handed him a mug of something strange and purple coloured.

"It's a Restorative Potion," he explained calmly. "You ought to be taking these once a day actually - they may help your memory. Drink up."

Harry took a sip and tried not to gag with disgust. He hadn't put anything so vile into his mouth for a very long time. He forced himself to swallow, then wished he hadn't as the room spun. Before he could do anything, or think anything, he slumped back on the pillows and passed out.

* * * *

When Harry woke, the curtains had been drawn around him. Fighting the tight feeling in his chest, he quickly opened them. It was sunset, the sky streaked with pinks and purples and reds. Harry wondered how long he'd been asleep for. His head was feeling very fuzzy and all his thoughts seemed slightly glazed. It was like a sheet of glass had been put over everything...

Harry gasped as realisation hit him. There had been something in that Restoration Potion! Lucius Malfoy had drugged it with something that was going to keep his "growing" memories hidden! If Harry hadn't already remembered everything, it probably would have. As it was, it only took a little work for Harry to smash the metaphorical glass and be in full possession of all his memories again.

That just proved he was going to have to be more careful than ever, now even about what he ate and drank. He couldn't let the Malfoys drug him, that would make things worse!

Harry walked over to the window and opened it, leaning out to watch the sun setting and think. If he wanted to keep up the idea that he really didn't have any memories, he was going to have to fake it well. It would be best if he could act the way he had before, meek and nervous and obedient.

Harry's brain rebelled at the idea and he shivered slightly. How could he survive this? Okay, he was morbidly curious about the Malfoys family life but he suspected that any more performances like the one he'd seen between Lucius and Draco that afternoon would be more than enough to put him off family life forever. That wasn't going to be enough inspiration to keep him pretending and stop him risking running out of the door and climbing the mountains to escape...

Fun.

The thought came unbidden to Harry's mind and he was briefly rather confused by it. Then he felt a small smirk come to his lips.

Draco was not enjoying pretending to be his boyfriend. So what if Harry suddenly "remembered" them going out?

Even as Harry's body was getting goosepimples at the idea of kissing Draco Malfoy off his own bat, his mouth was grinning wickedly at the idea of taunting Draco Malfoy so completely without any chance of retribution - at least not for a while at any road.

Harry sat back down on his bed and began thinking. He was going to need to organise other things to do apart from talk to Draco. It was going to get very boring otherwise. He would need books or something. Maybe Squeak would help him.

Thinking about the house-elves made him remember that he was hungry. He was about to walk out when he reconsidered this. After his last experience with the spectres, he wasn't particularly eager to have another unsupervised wander about Malfoy Manor. Harry rang his little bell and Squeak appeared almost instantly.

"Master Harry is awake!" she squeaked. "Master Harry must be fed!"
Harry nodded and Squeak vanished. She returned a little while later with a large tray. Harry looked very doubtfully at the food on it but didn't want to offend her and tucked in. It tasted all right but Harry decided not to ask what it was. He was feeling extremely suspicious of the food they might try to feed him at Malfoy Manor. Who knew what it was supposed to be.

Once he'd finished, Squeak (who had stood by watching) reached for the tray. Harry handed into to her with a word of thanks, then knelt down so he was on her eye level.

"Squeak," he said. "Could you bring me a book to read?"
"No Master," Squeak said at once. "Books supposed to stay in the library unless Master Lucius or Mistress Narcissa say that they can be removed!"

"Don't I have any of my own?" Harry said, pretending to be confused. He felt a little mean saying that to Squeak, who quite plainly didn't like the Malfoys' deception of him and was even trying to make him recover his memory - but Harry wanted to keep all sides covered, at least for a little while. At least until he had an idea for an escape route.

"No Master," Squeak whispered softly, her bat like ears drooping. "You....you never really liked to read."

Harry decided not to push his point and pretended to lightly shrug it off.

"Can't I go to the library then?" he said. "Please Squeak? I really want to read something right now. I'll stay in there, I promise."
He saw Squeak's ears droop even more and knew that he was putting her in very awkward position. The Malfoys would definitely have given the house-elves some sort of instructions and it was quite plain that these instructions were vague enough for the house-elves to disobey in little ways while being strong enough to worry Squeak considerably. Harry put on his most pleading expression.

"Master must wait until I have returned the tray," Squeak said at last and vanished. Harry put on his shoes while waiting, guessing that there would be something of a walk. He wondered what the wizarding world was doing about his disappearance. Were they worrying about him? Did Ron and Hermione guess that it had something to do with the Malfoys? Would Ron try sending Errol with a message? If so, would Lucius Malfoy kill Errol too?

Or maybe they'd given up. Maybe they thought Voldemort had killed him and that there was no point worrying any more.

Harry shook his head. He knew that wasn't true. Ron and Hermione would never give up on him. Ron would worry and yell at people until they did something and Hermione would try to research spells to trace him and probably tell Ron all sorts of stories about wizards this had happened to before and Ron would get annoyed at her and tell her to shut up only she wouldn't and they'd have an argument, then make up with a kiss like they always did...

Harry realised that his eyes were flooding with tears and he blinked them away quickly, leaping up and going over to window. He leaned out, inhaling the fresh air and trying to think happy thoughts. The library. He wasn't much of a reader but there were probably some fascinating books in there. The revenge he was going to get on Draco Malfoy for doing this to him - that was going to be fun. This wasn't all bad....

Squeak popped back, her eyes bigger than ever, her ears trembling.

"Master Harry must follow," she said, trotting over to the door. Harry hurried after her, trying to memorize his way. Down the steps, down another hall, take a left, up some steps...

"This place is a bloody rabbit warren!" he said to Squeak, who gave a rather nervous giggle.

"Tis to confuse any invaders sir," she said. "The rooms can change position."

"The rooms move?"

"Sometimes Master Harry. When us house-elves join the Malfoy service, we have a spell placed upon us so that we can always find the rooms. The Malfoy family must have the same sort of spell for they seem to know where they are going all the time. Perhaps the house layout refreshes itself in their mind."

"Do I have a spell?" Harry asked, about three seconds too late as he suddenly remembered that this was the type of thing he would want to ask.

"I...I believe so," Squeak mumbled, not looking at him. "Come along Sir, you must hurry up."

They walked up another flight of stairs and Squeak snapped her fingers at a large oak door which quickly swung open on silent hinges. Harry's house dropped open. He'd thought the Hogwarts library was big but this -

"I will fetch you when it is time for you to sleep," Squeak said. "Please do not touch the books on the last bookshelf. Those are the powerful magics and they may cause you harm should you not take care. And please do not leave this room."

Harry nodded and stood gaping as Squeak went out and the door swung closed behind her. There was a lot of books here. Harry wondered how you were supposed to find your way around.

Eventually he just guessed and walked up to the nearest shelf, moving along it. He was searching specifically for two things. The exact capabilities of a broken wand and any sort of antidote for spells or potions designed to inhibit memory.

He found a book called Strong Charms and Counter-Charms and settled into this for no better reason than it looked promising. The lighting in the library was dim and the writing tiny. Harry decided quickly that the Malfoys couldn't be great readers if they really did forbid books to be removed from the library without permission. It was stupid. There were a number of fascinating charms in the book that Harry wanted to remember. He decided that next time he came in here, he would bring parchment and quill to note some of them down. Until then, he'd just have to wait.

A search through the book did not reveal what Harry wanted and he moved onto the next interesting looking book; Dark Spells and Their Antidotes. It turned out to be highly unpleasant and Harry very quickly stopped reading it after discovering a spell for liquidizing your enemies' bones. After that, he moved to a different bookshelf.

It took a number of false starts but he finally found himself in what had to be the herbs shelves. Eagerly, Harry settled down and began reading a tattered book that appeared to have actually been hand written by a Malfoy a long time ago. It seemed to be home remedies for anything from a cold to smallpox and Harry enjoyed it immensely. He was near the end when he spotted what he really wanted to see.

A charm to repel spells of evil intent.

Harry eagerly read it. It seemed to be a fairly simple sort of charm. You needed a sprig of red coral - it had to be a sprig, not a carved piece or the charm would not work. It had to be soaked in a silver basin of freshly squeezed lemon juice over a full moon, then dried clean with pansy petals before being attached to a chain - which could be made of anything but silver - and worn around the throat of the person who wished to protect themselves. Then you had to tap it with your wand and say the words of the spell. Apparently it protected you from many magical spells and potions.

Harry had no idea if it would really work or if it was just some sort of old wives remedy. But he stored it up in his mind - it was the best he had. And if the house-elves would help him, he could almost definitely do it - as long as his broken wand had enough power. Which lead him onto the next thing he needed to find.

Harry wondered where on earth you should search for something like that. He decided that perhaps the history of wizards and things would be a good place and wandered around until he spotted a likely looking volume. He settled into the book, reading it with fascination. He was pretty soon totally distracted and when someone tapped his shoulder, he yelled and slammed the book on his hand, causing great pain.

"Jumpy aren't we?" Draco said sardonically. "Could that perhaps be because you aren't supposed to be here?"

Harry stared at him for a second, then reminded himself of his plan. He grinned and jumped to his feet, making himself throw his arms around Draco's shoulders.

"Draco!"
"Er...hi?" Draco said, sounding extremely anxious and patting Harry slightly on the shoulder. "What are you doing?"
"Hugging you, silly!" Harry said, wondering if his voice had always sounded this stupid or was it just an after-effect of lying through his teeth. "I used to hug you a lot, I remember."
"You...do?"

Harry resisted the urge to crack up laughing at the baffled look on Draco's face. He allowed his smile to widen slightly instead.

"I was just reading," he said cheerfully. "I was bored so I got one of the house-elves to bring me into here. It's a lovely library isn't it?"
"Yes," Draco said, looking blank and puzzled. "Um...you aren't supposed to be in here. You'd better just go back your room. Come on."

"Can I take this?" Harry asked hopefully.

"Um...sure."

Harry lifted the heavy book, picking up the smaller book with the charm in it too. Draco led him out, locking the door behind them. He kept sneaking little looks at Harry as though Harry was completely and totally mad. Harry had to force his lips to stay looking serious rather than smirking. Poor little Draco. Obviously dealing with a confused and bewildered Harry was better than dealing with a bouncy and fairly confident Harry.

Draco lead him back to the bedroom. Harry placed the books on the bedside table and grinned at Draco brightly.

"No ill effects from the spectres," he said, spreading his arms wide.

"Good," Draco said, smiling back. He was obviously finding his feet a little. Harry decided to knock him straight over.

Stepping up and ignoring his protesting brain, he caught Draco's face and pressed their lips together.

It didn't feel entirely right. Harry wasn't sure how to make it better and settled for just guessing. He could feel Draco trembling slightly beneath his hands and smirked to himself before stepped back and smiling in what he hoped was a nice way. Draco was looking only a little bit away from petrified. He was blinking rapidly. It was almost adorable in a funny way.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked, pretending to be confused. "Did I upset you? I thought you liked it when we kissed."
"I do," Draco said quickly "I do like it. I'm just...it's a bit odd. I was finally getting used to you not kissing me and stuff. Now you've got all cuddly. It's odd."
Harry grinned.

"Maybe those spectres were good for me," he said. "I seem to have some memories back. Just little ones - they don't connect or anything. But I definitely remember kissing you and liking it."
"Oh."

Harry wanted to laugh so badly at the look of total confusion on Draco's face that he had to start laughing and turn it into a sharp cough. Draco didn't seem to notice.

"I'd better go to bed," he said. "It's actually pretty late. What time did you wake up?"

"Sunset," Harry said. "Then I ate before going to the library."

Draco nodded.

"Right. Well...well, anyway I'll see you tomorrow, 'kay?"

"Sure Draco," Harry said cheerfully. "Goodnight kiss?"
"Sure."
Draco leaned forward and kissed him. It was a soft and rather hesitant kiss and to Harry's surprise, he found himself rather enjoying it. When Draco stepped back, he looked a little confused too.
"Goodnight," he blurted, then quickly rushed out of the room. Harry slowly sat down on the bed, absently touching his lips. Had he actually enjoyed that kiss? That wasn't supposed to happen. What did that mean?

He didn't know much about kisses though. The only kisses he'd ever had were from Draco Malfoy. Enjoying them didn't necessarily mean anything bar that Malfoy was a good kisser.

Harry kicked off his shoes and curled up on the bed. He wasn't at all sleepy, probably as a product of having slept most of the day. He took the book from the bedside table and began to read it again, hoping that it would mention broken wands somewhere among it's strange stories of different wizards and the past of the wizarding world.

* * * *

Draco walked quite normally to his own room, then practically melted onto his bed, aware that he was trembling.

WhatwhatwhatwhatWHAT?

How could Potter possibly remember them kissing? They had never kissed until a few days ago. What had suddenly changed Potter from being all shy and timid to being bouncy and bright? And there was a look in his eyes...something funny, something had changed.

Draco slowly changed into his pyjamas, clambering into his bed and pulling the sheets up tightly, trying not to remember his father earlier in the day. He didn't normally come in again...although he had been extra clingy lately. It had to be something to do with Potter, although Draco didn't understand that either.

He waved his hand and the candles extinguished, leaving Draco in the darkness with this thought. He was finally dropping off when he realised what had bothered him about Potter's eyes.

Potter's eyes had always been shuttered and closed in Hogwarts, only revealing the emotions he chose to reveal to you - bar when he'd been particularly angry, unhappy or in some sort of serious distress. When he'd lost his memories, he'd lost that too. His emotions had been visible all over, practically glowing from his face and eyes.

But now the eyes were shuttered again, hiding all emotions but what he chose to show.

Now what did that mean?

* * * *

At some point during the night, Harry must have fallen asleep over the book because he was woken by Squeak shaking him, his head resting on the pages.

"Tis time to wake up Sir," she said.

"Thanks," Harry said groggily sitting up. "See you in a bit."
He put the large book on his bedside table and hid the smaller one under the bed. He doubted that there was any point to that but he wanted to keep it in a place where it was less likely to be seen and taken away. He wanted to at least try that charm - despite trying to keep himself calm, he was worried about what the Malfoys might do to him.

Draco was awake and looking quite cheerful, especially considering his mood last night. He kissed Harry lightly, then took him down to breakfast. Harry found himself feeling not very hungry and nibbled at a piece of toast, watching Draco eat.

"I'll take you round the house today if you want," Draco offered. "See if anything strikes a chord."

Harry felt a flash of hot, burning rage. How dare Draco sit there and blatantly lie like that? How could he? He wanted to unsettle the calm, cool face in front of him, wanted to distress him. He could only think of one think so say that might shake Draco at the moment.

"Sure, Dragonfly," he said.

Draco's hand jerked, spilling tea all over the floor and his hand. He swore softly and rang the bell. House-elves quickly began to clean up while Draco wiped his trembling hand.
"You...how did you know my nick-name?" he blurted.

Harry couldn't help raising an eyebrow at him. Draco didn't seem to notice.

"Only Father calls me that," he said, his voice still shaking, a far cry from his normal composed self. "You never called me that, you never...no one calls me that but Father."

He sounded frightened and Harry felt a flash of violent guilt. He knew that had been cruel, calling Draco by a nickname that his father used, possibly only when he was going to do...something to Draco. Had he been unnecessarily cruel? Harry wasn't sure. But he felt bad anyway. Draco Malfoy might be hurting Harry, lying and pretending but Harry knew he shouldn't stoop down to that level.

"I thought I remembered it," he said softly. "I'm sorry, I didn't realise...I'm really sorry."

He reached out and touched the scalded hand gently and Draco looked at him with big, alarmed grey eyes. Harry knew his guess had been right. The nickname was tangled with his father's abuse in Draco's mind and hearing it quite plainly frightened him.

"I'm sorry," Harry said again. "I didn't know."

Draco nodded and patted Harry's hand, as though to say that all was forgiven. He went back to his own breakfast, eating slowly and methodically as though lost in thought. Harry pushed his toast away from him. Suddenly he didn't feel at all hungry any more.

As soon as Draco was finished, he led Harry out and began what he described as "The Grand Tour." Harry didn't even try to disguise how impressed he was with what he saw. Malfoy Manor was like a maze of corridors, each with doors that led to different rooms.

"We never go down below the ground floor," Draco explained, leading him past a dark stairway that blended so well into the wall that it might as well not have been there. "That's the servants quarters and the kitchens and things. We're not interested in those."
Harry nodded even though he very much was. He made up his mind to go down there when he could.

The rooms Draco did show him were extremely impressive. Harry couldn't help wondering why the Malfoys needed more than one of everything. They seemed to have a hundred drawing rooms and lounges and ballrooms and bedrooms.

"It come from far back," Draco explained when Harry asked. "There used to be a lot more people around. The Malfoys were always a long-lived family so most of the bedrooms used to actually be occupied. Besides, a lot of the rooms are redundant but what do you do with them except leave them? And some things still have purposes - we often have a lot of visitors at the same time."

"Why are there less Malfoys now?" Harry asked curiously.

Draco paused a moment before answering, sounding careful.

"Well things have changed throughout the centuries," he said. "Families are smaller and the Malfoys stopped having big families ages ago. And...well, Mother and Father's parents are all dead so they don't live here. Our line is....rather smaller than it once was."
"Oh," Harry said, not sure what to say, or whether he really wanted to know the story behind the shrinking Malfoy family. Draco didn't offer him any more information. He showed him the Arrival Room, where people came in by Floo Powder. The fireplace was gigantic, the mantel held up by carvings of two men, both of whom had a characteristic Malfoy look about them. Harry pretended to have no idea what Floo Powder was and asked to see some. Draco waved a hand to a rather ugly looking vase that stood beside the fireplace. It's twin was on the other side.

"It's on the left," he said "Have a look if you like. The right side is Ley Powder. It's for longer journeys - overseas. Most people don't use it, it's a little unreliable and very expensive. But the Malfoys have always been able to afford the best."

Harry could feel himself beginning to scowl and quickly turned away, walking over to the vases to look inside. The left vase was almost half full of grey Floo Powder. Curiously, Harry had a look in the right one. The Ley Powder was a dull reddish colour, made of larger granules than the Floo Powder was. This vase was almost three quarters full.

"We hardly ever use it," Draco said from behind him. "Father doesn't like it anyway. Prefers Apparition and Portkeys. But Mother insists that we have some and use it - it makes us look good. Anyone can afford a Portkey but Ley Powder is rare these days."
Harry nodded like he cared, wondering vaguely what the Malfoys would do if he smashed their Ley Powder vase all over the floor. As they left the Arrival Room, Harry tried to memorize the place. This was where he needed to go to escape. All he had to do was light a fire, use the Floo Powder and get to Diagon Alley. He'd be safe then.

Of course, he'd have to find his way back here. And assuming the Malfoys didn't have some sort of stupid guard spell. They had the snake in the hall...perhaps it moved around and guarded the whole place.

"Want to see the secret room?" Draco asked, obviously thinking Harry's silence was due to growing boredom.

"Sure," Harry said quickly. He wasn't bored but he'd always had a certain fascination with secret rooms and staircases and things like that. Besides, the more he knew about Malfoy Manor's secrets, the better.

Draco took him up some more stairs and into what he called the Red Drawing Room.

"We never use this one," he explained. "Either one I mean. The secret room was only rediscovered recently and there was a skeleton in it. One of the Malfoy men of times past - our women can be very vengeful if they feel cheated. He must have been locked away and starved to death. So now it's considered bad luck to be in both. But you can visit."

He led Harry over to a tapestry covered wall. Harry looked at the embroideries on it, wondering what now. Draco pushed the tapestry back, revealing a black wall. He removed his wand and pointed it at a tiny pockmark in the stone, barely big enough needle to fit into. He whispered something and a tiny pinprick of silver light shot from his wand into the mark. There was a grinding sound and Draco pulled Harry back as a great section of the wall swung back.

The room behind it was small, about the width and breadth of two wardrobes put together. It was like a stone box with no windows. There was a torch attached to the wall and a straw pallet on the opposite side of the room. On the other side, there was a hole in the floor. Harry could guess what that was for. Apart from that, the room was empty.

"It's a good place to hide somebody," Draco said. "Particularly if you don't want them found. Mother thinks that there used to be a magical opening to the kitchens so you could Summon yourself food - there's certainly another pockmark on the wall. But it's been blocked off. Obviously, whichever Malfoy it was didn't mind the room becoming a death trap."

Harry shivered. It was too cold in there. He didn't like it.

"Let's go," he said.

Draco seemed quite happy to. Perhaps the room gave him the creeps too. Whatever it was, he closed it quite hastily and took Harry out.

"I'd show you the hidden chamber," he said casually. "That's under the floor in the main drawing room. But Mother and Father keep their powerful Dark Arts in there and I think they'd rather we didn't poke at it. I know how to open it in case of emergencies but I'm not allowed to look at it for fun."

Harry nodded, once again pretending that he cared. He felt that one secret room was enough for anybody, particularly when you found out that some person had died in it. Okay it was a Malfoy but that didn't mean that they deserved to be walled up and left to die.

But it was another secret of Malfoy Manor Harry now knew. As Draco took him down the hallway, Harry wondered how many more there were to go. He suspected that the number was incalculable.

Realising that they were once again walking in awkward silence, Harry quickly tried to think of something to fill it.

"So how long has this manor been in your family?" he asked.

"I've no idea," Draco admitted. "Since about the 16th century, something stupid like that. Generations and generations. That's why there are so many hidden places - there's about six secret chambers, a hidden staircase...things like that. And why there are spells to make the layout eternally shift. The olden day Malfoys were...paranoid."

Probably with good reason

Harry thought If they were anything like the modern Malfoys! He didn't say it out loud though. He suspected that it wasn't worth it and that it was a very bad idea.

"It must be nice," he said, letting himself sound a little wistful. "To grow up in a house where your father did before you and his father before that. All the family connections..."

"Oh, Father didn't grow up here," Draco said, sounding surprised. "This was Mother's house."

Harry gaped at him. Draco didn't seem to notice.

"But...but you said it was passed down from Malfoy to Malfoy," Harry said.

"Yes," Draco said, sounding a little confused "Of course."

"So...your mother was a Malfoy before marriage?"
"Yes," Draco said "I know it's traditional for the woman to take the man's name, but not if you are joining the Malfoys. It's the Malfoy name which is important, the Malfoy name that has been pure-blood for generations. If I'd been a girl and got married, whoever I chose would have taken my name. We are Malfoys, our name must survive."

A bitter look crossed his face.
"I'm the first male Malfoy born into the family for three generations," he said. "Much to Mother's undying disappointment."

By now Harry's emotions were so tangled that he didn't have a sense of anything vaguely resembling tact.

"Why?" he asked. "I'd have thought that she'd want a son to carry on the name."

"Oh that's Muggle values!" Draco snapped. "What's the point of carrying on with the man? With a woman, you know it's the woman's. If Mother had wanted to, she could have had an affair with any man to give birth to me. But I would still have the Malfoy blood because I am hers, no matter who my father might be. When I marry, the woman I chose could screw around with anyone. There's no guarantee - bar a loving, faithful wife - that the baby she would give birth to would be mine."

Harry found this all rather confusing in a strange way that made sense. He wanted to pry deeper but he sensed that Draco didn't and resisted the temptation. It was only as they reached the Entrance Hall again that Harry realised Draco had made a mistake.

Draco was supposed to be going out with Harry with his parents' approval. But he was talking as though he was going to be married someday. Which wouldn't have made sense if Harry hadn't known why.

Should he bring it up? It was a mistake that would probably make Draco very uneasy if Harry mentioned it. But shouldn't Harry have mentioned it earlier?

Harry sighed. He hadn't realised that lying to Draco about his memories was going to be so very complicated. He suspected that he had already slipped up. When Draco had mentioned Portkeys, Harry hadn't asked about them. Yet there was no way he could possibly have known beforehand. But had Draco noticed? Was it a good idea to bring that up? It was all extremely frustrating.

"Want to see the gemstone rooms?" Draco asked, a slightly wicked tone in his voice.

"Sure," Harry said, wondering what on earth the gemstone rooms were.

He soon found out. Draco led him down another set of twisty corridors into a huge room that literally glittered with what felt like a thousand different sorts of jewels and gemstones. Harry couldn't stop his mouth dropping open as Draco led him in. Draco smirked, obviously enjoying Harry's stunned reaction and obviously unaffected.

"Have a poke around," he said, waving his hand casually around. "Don't take too long. It's boring in here. The jewellery rooms are better but Mother doesn't let me in there without her permission since it all belongs to her. These are just the raw materials, the jewellery rooms are actually things to wear."

Harry wondered exactly why it was boring as he wandered round the various boxes and barrels, staring at the different contents.

"You are seriously rich," he said.
"You haven't noticed before?" Draco said with a laugh. "This is mostly for magical stuff - potions and charms and things."

Charms.

Harry glanced quickly at Draco, then began looking round with more seriousness. Passing by a box full of glittery yellow jewels and a box of huge rubies, he began moving more systematically through things, looking at them and trying to identify them. He speeded up slightly when he realised that Draco was definitely getting bored. Occasionally, he asked for identifications of what was in the boxes but he wasn't hopeful. There was nothing around that looked anything like coral.

"Are you particularly looking for something?" Draco eventually asked. "Something you desperately want to see?"

Harry paused by a pile of emeralds. Was it safe to ask Draco? Draco probably wouldn't know what you could use coral for any sort of magical protection spell...

"Coral," he blurted. "I was wondering if there was any coral around."

"What do you want to see that for?" Draco asked, sounding disbelieving. "There is nothing interesting or valuable about coral."

"Yeah, well," Harry said with a shrug.

Draco led him over to the opposite end of the room where there were two barrels beside each other. One contained smooth, polished stones. The other contained oddly shaped lumps and branches of some sort of stone in different colours.

"Coral," Draco said, waving idly.

"Are these sprigs?" Harry asked, pointing at the lumps and branches."
"Yeah," Draco said. "Can we go now? This room is cool but it grates after a while.
"Sure," Harry said. As Draco turned away, he reached out and pulled out a branch of red-pink coral, slipping it carefully into the pocket of his robes. "Um...Draco, this might sound odd but I was wondering if there was any fruit."

"Fruit?" Draco said, giving him a look of complete incredulity.

"I'm hungry," Harry said, trying to look like this was true.

Draco rolled his eyes and took Harry into the Entrance Hall again. He walked over and grabbed the customary silver bell. Harry eyed Feoras the snake with nervousness. To his discomfort, the snake winked at him. Harry was quickly distracted by the appearance of Squeak, who offered him a crystal fruit bowl. Harry peered into it and instantly noticed that there appeared to be a large amount of lemons in it. He looked at Squeak, who smiled at him innocently. She glanced slightly over to Draco, then reached up with the hand he couldn't see, removed a lemon and dropped it beside Harry's knee where Draco couldn't see it.

She's incredible

Harry thought. He smiled at her and took an apple. Squeak instantly vanished and Harry hoped she hadn't run off to iron her hands.

"I hate that house-elf," Draco muttered. "I hate all of them but she is the worst. I wish I knew why Father sacked Dobby, at least he had a decent amount of vague respect."

Harry bit quickly into his apple to hide a smirk.

* * * *

They wandered round some more of the house before lunchtime. Harry rather enjoyed it. There was something incredible about seeing how rich the Malfoy family really was. Disturbing but incredible.

Lunch was eaten quietly with Narcissa and Lucius. They were both being very quiet although Harry wasn't altogether sure why. He didn't care either. He wanted to avoid all conversations with the two adults when possible.

Afterwards, Draco seemed to have lost any interest in going around the house and suggested that they went up to the library. Harry agreed, mainly because he wanted to look around it again. Draco took him up and they promptly separated, Draco muttered something about homework in a guilty sounding voice. Harry tried not to think about the homework that he should be doing and instead tried to find where he had been before. He didn't seem to be able to though and eventually gave up and picked a random book from the shelf which he began to flick through. He'd never been much of a bookworm but knowing there was nothing else to do at all was a great incentive. He flicked through an extremely boring book about magical pest control, then switched onto something called The Magic of Mirrors which proved to be rather fascinating. Harry got so engrossed that he barely registered the sound of the library door opening and shutting quietly. He only realised that there was something else in the room when he heard Draco give a faint cry from wherever he was and Lucius shushing him. Quietly, Harry closed his book and slipped through the shelves, finally stopping to peer through a gap in the books. Draco was sitting at a desk, eyes big in his face. Lucius was holding his wrist and leaning over him, speaking softly. Harry pressed closer to listen.

" - worry about Potter, he's far too engrossed in his book to pay any attention to us."

"But Father...what if he comes to find me? I don't want - "
"Draco, you are growing obsessed with Potter!" Lucius said. He didn't sound exactly angry but Harry couldn't really identify the emotion in his voice. "It's ridiculous. Anyone would think you were really in love with him."

"Don't be stupid!"

Lucius gave him a quick shake.

"Don't speak to me that way Draco!"
Throughout the exchange, they had kept their voices extremely low and Harry admired their self control. He felt rather disgusted with himself for watching this, but he couldn't drag his eyes away. Lucius's gaze softened and his grip on Draco's wrist loosened. Draco looked somewhat relieved until Lucius leaned down and kissed him lightly on the lips.

"I know you're distressed by Potter's presence," he said, and Harry wondered if he meant all the time or just in this room. "But you know that it is necessary. Don't worry, you are doing a fine job with him. And if he were to see anyway, I'm sure in his...amnesic state he'll believe anything you tell him. He won't care."
Harry felt sick. He wanted to stop this but something had frozen his feet in place and he watched silently as Lucius lowered his lips to Draco's again. Draco didn't make any move to push him away, just sat silent and still.

Fight him Malfoy!

Harry silently urged Fight him you fool!

Lucius left Draco's lips and began to kiss his throat delicately, his hand slipping down to caress Draco's side gently. Draco's eyes turned up to the ceiling, devoid of any emotion. Harry knew that he ought to try and stop this, ought to help but something in him, a dark part that he had never known was keeping him frozen in place, stopping him from moving.

Why interfere? He's lied to you, hurt you, hates you. He's tried to make your life miserable since the first train trip to Hogwarts. Why not let him suffer some pain? He's probably dished out worse. His father killed Hedwig and he did nothing to stop it, lying afterwards, pretending she was just a normal owl. He deserves this!

Lucius gave a soft moan into the skin of his son's throat and Harry's paralysis broke. Turning, he fled on silent feet over to the door, opened it as quietly as possible and closed it with the same care. Then he ran as fast as he could down the corridors, hurtling into his own room and slamming the door. Then he leaned against it, gulping air into his lungs and trembling violently.

What had he done? He should have stopped that, he should never have let that happen to anyone. And now he'd left Draco alone, left him to be...

Harry hated Draco. He didn't think that would ever change. But he knew that no one, no matter what they had done to people, deserved that.

Even if their father had been responsible for Hedwig's death.

Once again Harry felt tears push at his throat. He fought them with all his strength but his legs suddenly gave way and he sank onto the floor. Huddled there, he leaned right over, hunching into a ball and staring at the floor, still battling with the desperate tears. He was not going to let himself cry, he wouldn't. If the Malfoys saw...he would never be able to explain it. He had to hold it all inside until later.

But oh God, Hedwig...

"Master Harry?"

Squeak's voice. She was standing over him, holding a silver basin in her hands.

"Is Master Harry sick?"

"No," Harry said, aware that his voice sounding thick. "No, I'm all right. Just sad."
He sat up and pushed his hair back with a sigh.

"Thanks for the lemon. But how did you know?"
Squeak smiled secretively.

"Squeak cleans for Master Harry," she said. "Squeak find book. Squeak guesses the page Master Harry wants. Squeak wants to help Master Harry."
"Isn't this against your creed as a house-elf?" Harry asked curiously, taking the basin and removing the lemon from his pocket. Squeak instantly handed him a lemon squeezer. Harry had to admire her, she plainly knew everything he needed. He began to squeeze out the juice, waiting for her reply.

"House-elves must obey their masters," Squeak said calmly. "Master Harry is now my master. I do as Master Harry wants."
"But...the Malfoys..."

"The Malfoys have given Squeak to Master Harry," Squeak said. A mischievous smile crossed her face. "Accidentally perhaps, but they gives Squeak to Master Harry and that is all that matters."

Harry laughed and tipped some of the squeezed out juice into the bowl.

"How full does it have to be? I've forgotten."

"Enough to cover the sprig," Squeak said. "Master should place the sprig in basin now so we know."

Harry obeyed. He sighed.

"We are going to need loads of lemons," he predicted sadly.

Squeak promptly vanished, returning only moments later with a large amount of lemons.

"House-elves are extremely useful," Harry said dryly, beginning to squeeze out the next lemon.

Eventually, the sprig was completely covered by lemon. Harry then remembered a problem.

"Hang on! It's supposed to be soaked over a full moon - freshly squeezed lemon juice. When's the next full moon?"
"Three days," Squeak said calmly. "Squeak shall soak it until then with new lemon juice each day. It will add to the potency."

Harry grinned.

"You know," he said. "The Malfoys really don't do well picking their house-elves. Dobby was a rebel too."

"The Malfoys are bad Masters," Squeak said, her voice savage. "No house-elf likes working for them but many of us must. While most of us obey our contracts and do not disobey, we each hate the Malfoys. And since the return of...of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, our lives here have got worse. We must hope that Master Harry Potter can once again help us."
Harry looked away, guilt assailing him. Help the house-elves...he couldn't even help himself. Or Draco.

He shouldn't have left Draco to get hurt.

Squeak suddenly made a petrified noise, snatched up the basin and vanished. Harry was confused until he realised she'd obviously heard the footsteps coming down the corridor because his door opened. He looked round in panic and saw Narcissa Malfoy standing there. Harry wondered what she thought of him kneeling on the floor with apparently no reason. Narcissa didn't seem particularly concerned. She frowned as he quickly got to his feet.
"What are you doing in here?" she asked. "I thought you and Draco were in the library."

"We were," Harry said, horrified to find himself stuttering slightly. "I um...I got bored so I came out."

Narcissa blinked at him calmly and raised one eyebrow.
"And Draco?"
"He was busy," Harry said awkwardly. "Didn't...didn't want to disturb him...he was working."

Narcissa looked a little puzzled and disbelieving. Harry wanted to scream when he realised that he was blushing again. He was sure that he'd never blushed so much in his whole life until he'd come here.

"Very hard," he added, fidgeting slightly. "Working I mean. Draco. Very hard."

Shut up Harry!

A look of understanding suddenly crossed Narcissa's face.

"Was Lucius there?" she asked.

Harry wondered if it was possible for a face to turn any darker red than magenta, his felt like it was going to turn a whole new breed of crimson. He nodded slightly and Narcissa nodded.

"Ah. I see," she said. "He's been getting very possessive lately...I'll have to speak to him about that."
Harry could feel his mouth opening and forced it to stay shut. He rather suspected that if his mouth opened, he might be sick. Narcissa knew? She knew and she didn't stop it?
Narcissa must have seen something in his face because she smiled.

"Confusing?" she said. "Perhaps when you get your memories back, you'll understand it better."
Harry wondered what would happen if he punched her. He decided that she would probably cut off his hand and resisted the urge, turning his head away instead so he didn't have to look at her calm face. This was disgusting.

He didn't hear Narcissa come towards him, but he felt her hand on his chin, turning his face around. Then she kissed him.

Harry froze rigid, his brain and body fighting for control. His body definitely liked this - Narcissa was beautiful, almost definitely very experienced and female. He was never going to get a chance like this again. But his brain was screaming that she was a Malfoy, a married Malfoy with a son who Harry was currently pretending to be dating.

Harry jerked backwards, trying to push Narcissa away. He stumbled on the hem of his robes and fell over, ending up lying on the floor seeing stars. When blinked them away, he saw Narcissa looking down at him, her expression mildly irritated.

"What was that for?" she demanded.

"You!" Harry blurted. "Y-y-you're married! Draco! My boyfriend!"

He knew he wasn't making sense but that was about the extent of his vocabulary at that moment. He managed to stumble to his feet and stood there, clutching his hands together in a panicked way. Narcissa sighed as though Harry was completely over-reacting.

"Harry," she said. "As you may have already gathered, Lucius's tastes are not...entirely geared to pleasing a wife. He certainly doesn't worry about being faithful to me so I do not see why I show him that same concern. And Draco...he's certainly not particularly worrying about you at this moment."

"What?" Harry yelled. "You think that's his choice? You think he's enjoying that?"

Narcissa didn't answer, just stared at him, face a cold mask.

"You're mad," Harry said, not caring what she thought or did. "You're mad!"

Narcissa's mask flickered briefly and she looked extremely angry. But then the mask was back, concealing all her emotions. She simply smiled lightly at him.

"Anyway," Harry lied. "I'm not interested."
Narcissa laughed at that in a very derisive fashion. Harry could feel his cheeks heating up but he wasn't sure if it was from embarrassment or anger. He glared at her defiantly.

"You are married," he said, proud of the fact that his voice was sounding very calm and solid. "Whatever your husband might be doing with other people, I don't want to get involved in any twisted revenge scheme. It's wrong."

"I am a Malfoy," Narcissa said softly. "I think you'll find Harry, that I can do anything I want to in this house."

There was a threat in her voice, a barely disguised threat. Harry pretended not to notice and continued to glare at her defiantly. To his surprise, Narcissa merely ruffled his hair, then left the room. Harry sat down on his bed with a thump. He had no illusions about that being the end of it all. No way.

Crap.

* * * *

Draco was sitting silently on the floor, knees drawn up to his chest. His father had long since left him but Draco didn't feel like moving.

His father was jealous of Potter. Just terrific. Not only was Draco utterly repulsed by kissing the idiot, now his father felt that Draco was spending too much time with him.

Draco had known there would be problems with this. He'd never suspected that his parents would also have problems with it. At least not in the way they seemed to be.

"Draco?"

Potter. Draco looked up to see him standing by the bookshelf, looking strangely uncertain. Draco felt an explosion of rage inside him and jerked to his feet, glaring murderously at him.

"What?" he snarled. "God, what now?"

"Draco....I just...are you all right?"

Potter sounded awkward, as though he knew Draco wasn't all right but felt he had to ask. Draco felt angrier than ever.

"Fine!" he spat. "Just fine! Never bloody better!"

He jerked to his feet, glaring with utter hatred into those green eyes and were staring at him so uncertainly. Those eyes that didn't belong in this house, eyes that should be reserved for school where things were simple.

Only now nothing was simple.

"Why shouldn't I be fine Potter?" he yelled. "Life's just brilliant isn't it? Life's just so fucking great!"

"Draco..." Potter said, his fingers anxiously twisting together. "Draco, don't."

"Don't what?" Draco screamed at him. "It's my house! I can do what I want! It's not your house. You can't stop me! You don't have a home! You've got no one!"
"Don't say that!" Potter said, his voice sharp and distressed. "Don't say that! You...this place..."

Draco had never known he could be so angry. He'd been angry and hurt and bitter before but that was nothing compared to the hurricane of hot feelings inside him. How dare Potter think he belonged here? How dare he pretend to himself that he belonged in the Malfoy Manor when it was blatantly not his home?

"What, you think Malfoy Manor is your home?" he snarled. "Crap! You're a Potter! That's all you are, all you'll ever be! A Potter! You won't belong here ever!"

Hurt glittered sharply in those eyes and Potter turned his face away, as though he couldn't bear to face Draco any longer. Draco slammed his hand against the table in frustration, the pain bringing tears to his eyes that wouldn't go away no matter how much he blinked.

"I hate this," he whispered. "I hate this! I hate you being here. I hate what's it's doing to everyone, everything. I hate it!"

"I'm sorry," Potter said, his voice trembling. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have...oh God, I'm so sorry!"

For a long while they just stood there, Draco using the table to keep himself up, Potter watching timidly from the bookcase. Eventually, Draco's brain began gently pointing out that he was going to get in trouble if he kept things like this and he hadn't exactly been keeping up appearances by saying that Potter didn't belong here. He swallowed and looked over at Potter, who looked back directly, feelings hidden by green curtains.

"I'm..." Draco began but Potter cut him off.

"Forget it," he said. "I don't care, it's not your fault. Let's go for a walk. I want to get out of here. The air in here is stifling."

For once, Draco agreed with him. He left the library with Potter and they went straight out into the grounds.

It never occurred to Draco to ask exactly what Potter had been apologising for.

* * * *

The three days before the full moon passed slowly and torturously for Harry. He was jumpy and who could blame him? He knew that Narcissa and Lucius both watched him closely for very different reasons. Lucius out of jealousy and Narcissa out of...what? Lust? Harry wasn't sure and didn't care. He wished they'd both leave him alone. It was hard enough to pretend to be in love with Draco without the distraction of his parents being very creepy.

He didn't see Squeak throughout that time, or if he didn't he didn't know about it. Obviously she was keeping out of his way, probably so that it wouldn't look too suspicious. Harry understood why but it didn't make it easier - he wished that he could spend time around an ally rather than an enemy. It was depressing.

He and Draco spent most of their time either in the library or in the gardens. Harry tried to behave in a way that he thought Draco would like. He was hoping that once Draco trusted him, he'd be allowed to wander loose and then could make escape plans. He asked plenty of questions about his past and his friends, often unable to resist making little jibes about them and memories. It was always very funny to see Draco jerk when Harry mentioned a snippet of a memory that he had either completely made up, or that wouldn't fit in with the Malfoy's stories should it come into fruition. For the most part, Draco kept up his part of the charade extremely well and Harry was beginning to feel that he had to step up his "rattle Draco" campaign. This whole thing was terrifying and scary. The last thing he wanted was to feel that the whole thing was pointless too.

The one thing he did do which he felt was a positive act was to get himself a copy of the Daily Prohpet.

Harry had known the Malfoys got them and had been watching out for them. He wanted to know if his disapperence was common knowledge in the wizarding world or not. So he took a risk. Ringing his small silver bell, he asked the house-elf politely for the latest copy of the Daily Prophet.

Lucius (or rather Narcissa since she seemed to be leading this entire enterprise) hadn't considered that Harry would even know there was a wizarding newspaper, let alone its' name. They had not forbidden the house-elves to give him it. And therefore, the house-elf obediently fetched the copy and handed it to Harry.

The headline was Harry Potter still missing.

Harry skimmed the article quickly, not wanting to tempt fate and let anyone catch him with it. Phrases jumped out at him; grave concern for his well-being...guardians no idea...anyone with any news should contact the Ministry immediatly.

So they were looking.

Harry wasn't sure if that actually made him feel any better at all.

He spent the full moon night extremely jumpy, thinking about Squeak somewhere far below him, keeping watch over a silver basin with a spring of coral lying in it. He desperately wanted that protection. Harry hated to admit it, even to himself, but he was very frightened of what the Malfoys might slip into his food, or do to him while he was sleeping. He wondered about Remus Lupin and where he was right now. Running around somewhere in wolf form perhaps? Was Sirius with him? Maybe they were trying to sniff Harry out, catch his scent. It was a strange thought but it was oddly comforting and Harry dozed off to dreams of a wolf and a dog running over hills, howling distress and anger at the glowing orb of the moon.

Harry was woken early in the morning by Squeak, who was holding out the coral, apparently unchanged. It was only a chain of greyish metal and when Harry took it, it was pleasantly warm in his hand.

"Master Harry must cast spell quickly sir!" Squeak whispered.

"Squeak!" Harry said desperately. "I never found out...there was no one...no book...will my wand work?"

"Squeak does not know, but Master Harry must try!" Squeak said. She was quite plainly agitated and afraid of being caught there. Harry laid the charm on the floor and held the top part of his broken wand carefully in his hand. Licking dry lips, he whispered the words on the page.

An icy wind seemed to come from nowhere and blasted through Harry's body, biting at his insides and making him retch dryly. A greenish glow was imitated from his wand and soaked quickly into the coral, vanishing as though it had never been. Harry felt somewhat sick and dizzy but slowly reached out and slipped his charm over his head, tucking it under his pyjamas. The coral felt smooth against his skin, the branches pricking slightly but not painfully. He turned to thank Squeak but Squeak was already gone.

Harry felt oddly stiff that day, as though he had been running for miles. Draco (as usual) didn't seem to notice Harry's discomfort. He appeared preoccupied by something and took Harry on a long walk up to the boundary. Normally Harry loved this but today it was making him feel sick. He didn't dare say and Draco was quite plainly uninterested in how Harry felt.

"Harry," he said suddenly, stopping and leaning on the fence. "Do you remember when Lord Voldemort was here?"

"Yes," Harry said, discreetly rubbing aching ribs and wondering where this was leading.

"You remember I said we served him?"
"Yes."
"Well...there are others who serve Lord Voldemort...and sometimes we have to meet," Draco explained, sounding slightly anxious. "Perhaps you remember...at any rate you use to see them...anyway, father is holding a dinner party. Our Lord will be attending, as will many of the Death Eaters. Father will want us to stay out of the way."

"That's fine," Harry said truthfully. The last thing he wanted to do was eat with an entire table of Death Eaters.

Draco nodded but he still seemed a little uneasy, as though there was more he wanted to say. He actually opened his mouth, but then he closed it again and shrugged, as though it didn't matter.

"When's the party?" Harry asked, feeling that he should.

"Tomorrow night," Draco said. "We'll eat in the private dining room for that day."

He scowled.

"I hate it there. It's so poky."

Harry suspected that anything Draco Malfoy called poky would probably be about the size of a tennis court but he nodded in a sympathetic manner, then sat down with a thump.

"Harry?" Draco said, sounding startled. "What's wrong? You haven't got a headache again?"

"No," Harry said. "My legs are tired..."

They were more than that. Harry was beginning to suspect that his legs would never work again. He was finding it increasingly difficult to feel any of his limbs. Draco gave him a rather annoyed look.

"You normally race this walk," he said, a little accusingly.

"Well, today I'm tired," Harry snapped, not particually caring about Draco's feelings.

Draco sighed although whether with hurt or irritation, it was hard to tell. He looked out over the boundry fence. Harry followed his gaze.

"Draco," he said. "Where exactly is Malfoy Manor? In relation to the rest of the world I mean?"
Draco looked a little puzzled and it occured to Harry that Draco probably didn't know. Malfoy Manor was its own little world, untouched by everything that went on around it. No wonder they felt that they could do anything they wanted.

It made Harry feel very much alone.

They walked down to the Manor slowly and Harry went straight to his bedroom on the pretext of reading some library books he had in there. He promptly rang for Squeak, who gave him a potion to drink. Whatever it was, it made Harry sleepy and he dozed until Draco fetched him for dinner. He spent the meal in a rather plesent state of torper which meant the whole thing was a lot less worrying. He couldn't help wondering if there was any chance Squeak could provide him with this more. Sometimes Harry didn't think he would live through this forced stay without the help of drugs.

* * * *

Harry spent the next day feeling rather jumpy. He could see that Draco was jumpy too, which worried him even more.

"Draco, what is bothering you?" he finally asked. "You keep fidgeting."

Draco looked at him, then shrugged.

"I don't know," he said.

Harry knew it was a lie. Whatever was making Draco so jumpy, he knew what it was. Was it the Death Eaters coming? He'd have thought that Draco was used to things like that. Surely he'd actually expereicned things like this before?

"Harry," Draco said suddenly. "After dinner tonight, would you like to come up to the Spy Tower?"

Harry blinked.

"The what?"

"It's what I - we used to call the North Tower," Draco said, covering his slip quickly "It's the best place for...well, you'll see. Will you come?"
"Sure," Harry said, privately deciding that if Draco was going to try and make out with him up there, he was going to tip him over the edge. He wasn't in the mood for any fake make-out sessions with Draco. The occasional kiss was fine but the idea of there being any long make-out sessions made him feel very ill.

This seemed to relax Draco somewhat but not really. He kept fidgeting and squirming and looking worried. Harry was desperate to ask why but knew it would do no good at all. Draco was always so stubborn.

Lunch was equally uneasy. Obviously Narcissa and Lucius was uneasy as well although they could cover it far better than Draco could. Harry wasn't sure why they were uneasy, it was their stupid party surely.

"I want the two of you to stay upstairs," Narcissa said abruptly. "Do you hear me Draco? I know what you are like when we have our parties. You are not to sneak downstairs like you have done before."

"Of course not Mother," Draco said blandly. Narcissa frowned darkly.

"Draco," she said. "I mean it. I know that you spend a lot of your time spying on us. If I catch you - or anyone catches you - then I can assure you, you will be in big trouble."

Draco nodded, suddenly looking slightly more uneasy. Harry watched with interest. He often watched the interactions between Narcissa and Draco, rare as they were. He couldn't decide whether Draco was afraid of his mother or whether he loved her. It was very strange to watch the two of them interact.

Harry remembered Draco's anger when he'd insulted Narcissa in fourth year. Had that been out of a feeling of duty or out of love? Harry didn't know and knew that he probably never would.

But it was interesting to try and guess.

Draco took him straight upstairs after the meal.

"Are we still going up to the Spy Tower?" Harry asked.

"Definietely," Draco said. "Mother only said not to come downstairs. And we won't be."

Harry nodded but was feeling more worried than ever. Spy Tower...what exactly were they going to be spying on?

* * * *

The smaller dining room that Draco described as "poky" was smaller than the regular one but definietely not poky. Not remotely. The walls were covered in thick, earthy coloured tapestries which seemed to have faint emboridery on which Harry couldn't quite identify. Perhaps they were meant to be like that, or perhaps they were just dusty. They made the room look slightly smaller than it was. Harry settled at the table, so brown as to be almost black, looking at the coppery coloured plates and cups that were neatly laid out. Perhaps less grand than downstairs but Harry felt it was somewhat more homely. He liked it better.

"Horrible isn't it?" Draco said, sounding moody.

"I like it," Harry said.

"Well, you never did have any taste," Draco said lightly, ruffling Harry's hair. Harry flinched but he made himself remain still. He didn't particually want to upset Draco while Draco was already in a rather manic mood.

The food was as nice as normal with no extras or changes and Harry ate normally, moving every now and then so that he could feel his coral under his robes. He felt much better about eating while wearing that - it made him feel safer inside.

Practically as soon as he'd finished, Draco dragged him out of the dinning room and back to Draco's bedrooom. He was fidgeting again, eager about something. Harry sat at the desk and watched him pace, trying not to get sea-sick.

"What are you waiting for?" he asked.

"You'll see," Draco said. "You'll see. Want to play chess?"

Harry won the chess game, mainly because Draco quite plainly wasn't paying attention to the game. Harry was steadily growing more and more uneasy. What was Draco planning on doing to him up in this Spy Tower?

"Come on," Draco said at last. "It's probably about time...come on."

Harry followed him out obediently, listening out for any sign of life downstairs. He couldn't hear anything. Obviously, Death Eaters went in for quiet, dignified parties.

Draco lead him up what felt like a thousand staircases until they reached a twisting iron one, delicately wraught with pretty patterns. Draco moved easily up it, Harry following slowly, feeling the metal steps vibrate gently beneath his feet.

The tower was more of a spire really, thin with only a very small room which you could only just stand up in. There was a tiny round window just beneath where the roof sloped up to a point. Someone had put an ornate carpet on the floor and piled cushions around to make places to sit.

"It's my hideout," Draco said. "Our hideout. Even Father and Mother don't disturb us up here."

He walked straight over to the window and peered out.

"Come and look," he invited.

Slowly, Harry did so. He had a rather wonderful look out over the gardens and grounds but he suspected this wasn't what Draco wanted to see.

"What am I looking at?" he asked.

"Nothing yet," Draco whispered softly. "But soon...oh yes soon. Do you see that yew tree, the big one right there?"
"Yes," Harry said, following Draco's pointing finger.

"Just watch that," Draco said. "Watch that and you'll see. When it's time...when it's time I'll activate the window. We'll see more."
Harry was confused and rather alarmed by this but he obediently fixed his eyes on the tall yew tree, waiting expectantly. Draco didn't quite seem able to keep looking. He was fidgeting again, so much so that Harry eventually grabbed a cushion and hit him with it.

"Would you stop that? You're making me jumpy!"

"Potter, would you stop hitting me with bloody cushions?"
"You used to like it," Harry said, putting his "innocent" voice on. "I remember, you and I used to have pillow and cushion fights all the time."

"No we didn't," Draco said firmly. "That's one of your made-up memories."

"No it's not," Harry responded, equally as firmly, glad to finally have something to distract himself with. "I definitely remember. There was you and me and...and other people. There was a guy with very red hair and a girl with bushy brown hair. And we got stopped by a teacher...I think he was a teacher...with long, really greasy hair."

Draco was giving him a look which would have curdled milk and Harry tried not to grin.
"This is one of your made up memories," he said, sounding rather disturbed. "Totally."

"Are none of those people real then?" Harry asked "I've remembered then before."

"Well...."

Draco paused. He turned away and rummaged beneath one pile of cushions. To Harry's slight shock, he produced a bottle of something browny-gold which he gulped out of them, then offered to Harry. Harry shook his head. He was not a drinker and didn't think that now was any time to start. He personally couldn't quite believe that Draco Malfoy was drinking something out of a bottle but he wasn't exactly going to say anything about it. Draco gulped again, grimaced and then looked at Harry.
"It's not that they aren't real," he said, speaking quite carefully. "They're all real. Just...that never happened, that's all."

"Oh," Harry said. "So...who are they all then?"
He was very much looking forward to hearing Draco's descriptions of Ron, Hermione and Snape.

Draco opened his mouth to answer, then shut it and gulped back another mouthful of liquid.

"What is that?" Harry asked.

"Whisky," Draco said calmly.

"Going to answer my question?"

"Weasley - the red head - is a poverty stricken moron and their family is over-populating the earth, Granger's a filthy Mudblood and..."

Draco stopped, then pressed closer to the window.

"Look! Look! They're there."

Harry looked and felt his insides turn to ice.

He could see shadowy figures making a circle around the yew tree. Shadowy figures that were robed and hooded.

"What's going on?" he asked, aware that his voice was a hoarse whisper.

"It's an initiation," Draco whispered, his voice dreamy. "Or it will be. When Master arrives."

"A...a what?"

Draco grinned at him and swigged back some more of the whisky. The bottle - completely full when Draco had removed it from it's hidey hole - was now half empty.

"Initiation, dummy," he said sounding condescending. "To the Death Eaters. Someone is joining their ranks tonight."
He gulped another mouthful and missed Harry's sharp gasp of pain as his scar began to ache on his forehead, not as badly as it had before but bad enough. Draco reached out and fiddled with the window. The glass gave a water-like ripple and it was like looking through a ground floor window at the proceedings. They were still looking as though from a far off view point but they could see much clearly. Harry tried not to shudder. To his alarm, Draco reached up and draped his arm over Harry's shoulder. His hand began to play with Harry's hair, pushing it idly behind his ear as he used his other hand to drink from his bottle.

"Draco..." Harry said uncertainly, wanting to shy away from that hand and not daring to because that would look strange. "What are we doing?"

"Watching," Draco said. "Just be quiet and watch."

Harry obeyed, watching the figures moving around the yew tree. He could see the new figure now, the one which even from this sort of distance he could identify as Voldemort. Voldemort stood alone beside the yew tree, surrounded by his follows. Harry saw two of them step forward, a smaller one in the middle. The smaller figure was not hooded or masked and Harry was sure that he or she was trembling slightly. It knelt before Voldemort, bowing it's head. Harry suspected that Voldemort was speaking although obviously no sound could be heard from where Harry and Draco were. For a while, nothing seemed to be happening at all. Then the kneeling figure pulled back both of their sleeves, holding out their bare arms. Voldemort turned away so he was facing the tree. He held up his wand and a jet of black light shot from it, cutting a piece of the tree off. Voldemort turned back to the kneeling figure, holding the long yew stick. He pressed it to the person's arm and pushed lightly. Harry wasn't sure but he thought that the stick was moving slightly, tracing a point on the arm. Then Voldemort held up his wand, pointing it downwards. This time, the jet of light was green, the brightest green Harry had ever seen. It burned into his eyes, making him instinctively cry out and try to jerk backwards. Draco's arm tightened around his shoulder, holding him in place. The light faded and Harry blinked the marks away. He could see the figures still standing in their fixed positions. The kneeling figure was doubled up, clutching their left arm to their chest. Voldemort held out his arms and the figure slowly got to it's feet, holding Voldemort's hands. Voldemort pulled the figure to him and kissed it on both cheeks, then pushed the figure towards the figure on his right side. Harry watched as the figure moved around the circle, being kissed on both cheeks by all. Occasionally, the Death Eaters shook it's hand or even hugged it. When the new initiated Death Eater got back to Voldemort, it dropped to it's knees again and kissed the hem of Voldemort's robes. Voldemort gestured casually with his wand and the new Death Eater stood, raising it's own wand. A bright light fired from it, shaping into the sky to the glittering green shape of the Dark Mark.

"Now they party," Draco said, his voice strange sounding in Harry's ears. "They party...sometimes they have a Hunt depending on who has joined. Father promised that when I join, he'll arrange a Hunt for me. The Dark Lord doesn't normally join in the partying. He'll leave. Or watch. I don't know."

Harry did. From the sudden lack of pain in his forehead, he knew that Voldemort had already left the Death Eaters to "party" - however they did that.

"What's a Hunt?" he heard himself ask, his voice faint and strange to his own ears.

"What do you think it is?" Draco asked, giving Harry no sort of answer at all. He gave a funny sounding laugh. The arm draped around Harry's shoulders suddenly felt like it was trapping him and he tried to wriggle away. Draco hung on, twisting Harry round so Harry was looking at him.

"That's going to be me someday," he said, his voice wild sounding and giddy, his eyes glittering with an emotion that Harry couldn't identify "I'll be down there being kissed, being initiated. That's going to be me Potter! And you - you and me. We'll belong, we'll be members of the Death Eaters..."

He staggered to his feet and Harry saw that the bottle of whisky was now completely empty. Draco didn't seem to be having any trouble standing though, in fact he seemed fairly sober. But his eyes were gleaming with a near insane light and Harry suddenly felt very afraid.

"I'll be down there," Draco whispered again. "Soon. Very soon, I'll be there. They'll let me join and then..."

He suddenly whirled round and smashed the empty bottle against the wall. A shower of glass rained down and Harry yelped, jerking away from it, even though the blow had been nowhere near him.

"No more Mudbloods," Draco whispered. "No more idiots. I'll be powerful and no one will ever hurt me again, no one..."

"Draco," Harry said faintly. "Draco please..."

Draco twisted round and reached down, dragging Harry to his feet. Harry stumbled back against the wall and stared at Draco, wondering if Draco could sense his fear like a dog. What was Draco doing? Was this just because he was drunk?

"Do you know what that would mean Potter?" Draco asked. "You and I...we could be famous. We'd be part of this war. We'd be unstoppable."

He kissed Harry then, a violent, frightening kiss. Harry wrenched himself away from it instantly.

"Draco, stop it!"

He was shocked at how shrill his voice sounded. But it seemed to work. Draco stepped away and looked a little puzzled, although they were acting in a play together and Harry wasn't speaking the right lines.

"I don't like it when you're like this," Harry said faintly. "You're being so strange."

Draco frowned, suddenly looking like a slightly sulky kid. He moved past Harry and looked out of the window again. All of the Death Eaters were gone now and so was the Dark Mark, just leaving the twisted shape of the yew tree, a dark hulk against the moonlit sky. Draco passed his hand over the window and the glass returned to normal. Draco looked at Harry again and now he looked sad.

"Didn't you like it?" he asked softly. "I thought you'd want to see what will happen to us someday. I thought you'd be interested."

"I...I was," Harry said, his voice getting firmer as he realised that Draco was calmer and more like his usual self. "I did enjoy seeing this, I enjoyed it a lot but I want to go to bed now and I think you should too. You look a bit odd."

"I'm fine," Draco said. "Not drunk. I never get drunk."

He swayed suddenly and flopped loosely against Harry, head heavy on his shoulder. Harry put his arm around Draco's shoulders and slowly began to help him down the stairs.

"Father doesn't like me drinking," Draco said in a conversational tone as they walked. "Sometimes he lets me have a little wine, particularly if Mother is around or if there's a party. But if he found out that I drank whisky, he'd be very pissed off with me. Father doesn't often get pissed off with me you know. It's not that he doesn't get angry but he rarely shows that to me. He loves me."

Harry couldn't help snorting at that. He didn't think that what Lucius did to Draco counted as 'love'.

"He loves me more than anyone," Draco said softly. He suddenly pulled away, supporting his own weight again. "I know that."

He looked at Harry.

"Stay with me tonight?"
"What?"

Harry couldn't help it. The exclamation fell from his lips and he was aware that he sounded horrified.

"Stay with me," Draco repeated, obviously unbothered by Harry's shock.

"Draco," Harry said nervously. "I really don't feel ready...I don't want..."

How could he explain that despite the fact that he "believed" they were dating, the idea of kissing Draco made him feel ill, let alone the idea of doing...anything else.

Luckily, this wasn't necessary.

"I don't want that either," Draco said. "Just stay with me. We can have a slumber party thing. Please? I just want you to cuddle me."

Harry had never had a request like that before and he didn't know what to do. He had to keep pretending to be in love Draco, had to keep faking this. If he loved Draco, he'd surely be happy to share a bed, even if he only remembered bits of his life.

Draco was still staring at him, his lower lip slightly pouty, eyes glistening slightly in the light. Harry suspected that refusing a request from someone looking like that was near impossible.

"Maybe for a little while," he said with a slight sigh.

He followed Draco into the room and looked away when Draco changed. Harry chose to only remove his shoes, deciding that he was definitely not comfortable with the idea of Draco seeing him wearing much less than that. Once Draco had crawled into the bed, Harry settled nervously next to him on top of the covers. Draco promptly snuggled into him, winding his arms tightly round Harry's neck and putting his head against Harry's shoulder. Uneasily, Harry draped an arm over Draco's body. This seemed to satisfy Draco and he closed his eyes. Harry didn't close his. He stared at the canopy over the bed, trying to make out the embroidery in the darkness, deciding that when he was sure Draco was asleep, he'd sneak back to his own bed.

He wasn't sure if he or Draco fell asleep first.

Neither were awake when Lucius Malfoy came into the room and neither were aware of him watching them, a bitter look of jealousy and anger twisting his features so they were almost unrecognisable. Neither heard Narcissa come in either and take her husband by the arm, leading him out of the room so that the boys could continue to sleep uninterrupted.

* * * *

Draco woke conscious of a rather nasty headache and dry mouth. He groaned and tried to reach out for his wand, very glad that Malfoy Manor was shielded from the magic of the Ministry wizards which would notify them if he ever used magic out of term time. Instead of meeting his bedside table, he met something firm and soft.

"OW!"

Draco opened his eyes very quickly and realised with a minor feeling of satisfaction that he had just poked Harry Potter in the eye.

"That's a wake up call that I've never had before!" Potter said grumpily, sitting up and rubbing his face. Draco leaned over him, grabbed the wand and pointed it at his head, muttering "Hangover begone!"

It was a useful little spell which always worked to some extent, depending on how much you had drunk. Draco was pleased to discover that this was a day where the hangover went away completely, simply leaving him rather thirsty. Unfortunately, it didn't help with the quality of his memories. He looked back at Potter, who was still rubbing his eye.

"What are you doing in my bedroom?"
"You asked me to stay," Potter said moodily. "Remember? You asked me if I would stay in here and share with you."

Draco blinked, trying to dredge up the memory of that request. It came back slowly and he grimaced a little.

"Would you mind leaving while I get dressed?" he asked snappishly.

"Fine," Potter said, He got up and walked out of the room. As he did, Draco heard him whisper softly. "Like I have any desire to see you naked."
Draco frowned as the door clicked closed. It had been said quiet enough so that Draco wasn't supposed to have heard it.

But...Potter seemed to believe himself in love with Draco. So surely...

Draco had another one of those moments when he suspected that all was not well with their ruse.

* * * *

Harry went to his own bathroom and ran himself a bath. It wasn't exactly that he wanted to wash away Draco but....well, he just didn't feel all that clean.

Lying in the deep bath, he stared at the ceiling and tried very hard not to think about what had happened last night. Any of it. But he couldn't stop.

"I thought you'd want to see what will happen to us someday."

That was what Draco had said. Us.

Were the Malfoys going to try and turn him into a Death Eater?

Harry wondered why he'd never really considered this before. Okay, he'd been freaked when remembered that they'd made him call Voldemort "My Lord" and they had stated that he worked for Voldemort...but he hadn't thought, hadn't suspected that even the Malfoys would dare make him become a Death Eater.

Of course, if he didn't have his memories back he'd probably be happy to.

Harry shuddered and drew himself into a huddle in the bath, resting his chin on his knees. If they did try to make him join...if they did tell him that he had to...what would he do? How could he possibly refuse without instantly being killed?

Harry didn't want to join the Death Eaters. But he didn't particularly want to die either. Surely Voldemort wouldn't accept him as a Death Eater...

He would though. Harry knew he would. The idea of having his worst enemy, the Boy Who Lived, grovelling at his feet would be extremely appealing to Voldemort. Harry rather suspected that this had been Narcissa's idea all along.

Harry groaned and slid under the water, exhaling so that the air bubbled up to the surface, giving him a mouthful of rather odd tasting water. When he'd been younger, he'd used to drink bathwater. He'd never been able to see what was wrong with it - it was just water after all. And it had always had an odd, interesting taste that drinking water didn't.

Naturally, Harry didn't drink bathwater any more and he surfaced, spitting out the water in his mouth and then leaning back, pushing wet hair out of his eyes.

What was he going to do?

There didn't seem to be very many choices available to him. While there were ways out of the Manor, Harry had no idea where he was, had no idea where he would go and knew that the Malfoys would probably catch him very quickly. He would have to use the Arrival Room and Floo Powder, only he didn't know his way back there and suspected that he would get lost very quickly. He also suspected that the place was guarded, although he could probably tell Fearos not to hurt him using Parseltongue. But he didn't know if that would work. And it was possible that he would get caught creeping around and then have to explain that.

Harry wanted to go and just tell Draco that he knew they were lying and that he wanted to go home at once. He desperately wanted to, even though he knew that was suicide and all that would happen would be the Malfoys would either put a Memory Charm on him or kill him on the spot - probably the latter.

He couldn't stand up to them. He couldn't think of a way out. He was stuck here.

Harry had never believed people who said that they were in the depths of despair before. He thought they were just being over-dramatic. But suddenly he understood completely. It was a horrible feeling. His stomach was sinking slowly inside him and crumpling up into a tight ball. There was another tight ball in his chest that was making it difficult to breathe. The more he noticed these tight balls, the tighter they became. Harry suddenly understood how being depressed just made you more and more depressed.

He was terrified. He'd never been so scared in all his life. And what was more, he couldn't see any way out of this mess.

Harry slowly got out of his bath and dried himself on the towel, trying to breathe deeply and ignore his fear. He'd think of something, of course he would. Maybe he'd get Squeak to send an owl - that might work. Or perhaps he'd try escaping and blame it on head trauma. He would think of something, he would. It just hadn't occurred to him yet, that was all...

Harry pulled on his robes, deciding that he missed jeans and a T-shirt, then walked out into his room, messing with his still damp hair and trying to remember where he'd left the hairbrush the Malfoy's had provided. He was distracted from his when a cold hand gripped the back of his neck and pulled him backwards. Lucius Malfoy.

"Er...hi?" Harry said uncertainly, trying to wriggle lose from the hand that was gripping him painfully. He hoped that Lucius wouldn't noticed the chain he was wearing and ask what it was.

Luckily, Lucius didn't seem to be in any state to notice something as insignificant as a finely wrought chain. He was glowering darkly at Harry. There was a look of utter hate in his eyes that filled Harry with fear.

"What's the matter?" he asked, trying to conceal any fear behind a mask of blankness.

"What were you doing in my son's room last night?" Lucius snarled.

"Sleeping," Harry said pertly. "What did you think I was doing, breeding ferrets?"

He knew it was stupid to goad Lucius when it was quite plain that Lucius was already in a foul mood but he somehow couldn't help himself. He was so miserable already that he somehow felt that Lucius shouting at him would help.

What Lucius did however, was a little more than shouting. He dragged Harry back into the bathroom and waved his wand at the sink, which promptly filled with water.

"I'll teach you to speak to me that way!" he hissed, then ducked Harry underwater.

Harry instinctively gasped at the cold and promptly got a mouthful of water, coating the inside of his mouth and the back of his throat. He struggled furiously, trying to spit the water out to breathe in oxygen but naturally there wasn't any. Frantic, he kicked at Lucius's legs and was rewarded by the hand twisting his hair viciously. Then he was allowed to emerge and he stood there gagging painfully, trying desperately not to be sick while gulping in great mouthfuls of air. He was finally managing to recover when Lucius ducked his head under again. This time Harry was more prepared and he managed to gulp in air before he went under, then held his breath. He didn't struggle, just remained limp until Lucius pulled him out again and pushed him away.

"Well?" he demanded, as though there had been no break in the conversation. "What were you doing?"
"Sleeping!" Harry snarled, spitting out some water. "Is that a crime now? Draco asked me to share for some God known reason and I did! We just slept!"

"Do you really expect me to believe that you were sharing a bed with my son and you just slept?"

Harry didn't feel up to this. He was dripping water, he was frightened, he was depressed and he was tired. He didn't want to have a twisted conversation with Lucius Malfoy which was probably going to end with Harry saying something that he didn't want to say. So he went for his secret weapon, the one thing Lucius Malfoy would be powerless against.

He burst into tears.

He told himself very firmly that he was only doing this to get Lucius Malfoy off his back but somehow the tears were comforting. The knots inside him began to loosen slightly as he stood there, sobbing hysterically. Lucius looked terrified.

"Don't do that!" he said, reaching out and tapping Harry on the shoulder in what he obviously hoped was a sympathetic manner. "Don't...stop it...please?"

It would have been funny if it had been someone else crying. But Harry realised that his secret weapon was rather like a nuclear weapon in that it had a rather large drawback. Now that he'd started crying, there was almost no way that he was going to be able to stop any time soon. Suddenly his mind was filled with all the injustices he'd faced since arriving here, all the loneliness and fear and pain. And Hedwig...his poor Hedwig.

Thinking about Hedwig made it even worse and the tears came faster than ever, gushing down Harry's cheeks in floods. Lucius gave him a helpless stare and looked around, as though expecting support to appear from somewhere. Which it promptly did as Draco came through the door and Narcissa Apparated beside him.
"Lucius, what have you done?" she demanded.

"It's not my fault!" Lucius said, sounding like an extremely sulky child.

"Then why precisely is he crying?"

"I don't know!"

Narcissa reached out for Harry but he jerked away from her, not wanting the bitch anywhere near him. He was desperately trying to stop crying but somehow he just couldn't. Narcissa looked a little frustrated that he wouldn't allow himself to be comforted but she didn't try again. She just stared at him.

Then Draco pushed past and wrapped his arms around Harry's shoulders.

"Don't cry," he said, sounding about as nervous as Lucius. "Please don't cry."

Harry didn't really want to respond to the hug. But Lucius was standing there looking annoyed and confused and Harry would rather hug a 300 pound gorilla than Narcissa. So he wrapped his arms round Draco and sobbed into his shoulder.

There didn't really seem to be any alternative.

* * * *

He ended up going back to bed in the end where he cried himself out in Draco's arms. He lay there afterwards, trying to make himself breathe steadily, utterly appalled at his loss of control. The last time he had cried in front of anybody had been in his first year when he had cried in front of Dumbledore after the headmaster had told him that his mother had died to save him, leaving the protection of her love on him. And Dumbledore had at least pretended not to notice. He'd cried since then - huddled under his blankets at the Dursleys, trying not to make any noise, he'd cried bitterly for Cedric. But never, never had he allowed himself to cry in front of people since that one time. And in front of the Malfoys of all people.

But he hadn't been able to help himself. Once he'd let the tears out, they just hadn't stopped until he'd sobbed it all out of himself. At least now the knots of despair inside him were lessened, despite his humiliation.

"Feeling better now?" Draco asked softly and Harry realised that his breathing had obviously slowed to a more normal rate. He nodded and Draco moved back, propping himself up on one elbow.

"What caused that?" he asked, his voice concerned. "What did Father do to you?"
"Dunked me underwater," Harry said flatly.

"Why?"

"I was rude to him."

Draco simply blinked and Harry sighed.

"He wanted to know why I was sharing your bed last night," he said. "He didn't seem to understand that we'd just been sleeping."

He saw Draco flinch and felt bad but didn't know what to say. With a sigh, Draco sat up and swung his legs off the bed.

"You didn't need to cry," he said. "Father wouldn't have hurt you."

"It certainly didn't feel like that!" Harry snapped. "It felt like he was going to drown me!"
Draco shrugged, obviously unable to say anything to that. He turned his face away and stared at the door, as though expecting someone to come in. Harry slowly sat up, wiping away the final tears from his face. His pillows were soaked, partly from tears but mainly from the water that had come from his hair. He tried not to think about Lucius shoving his head viciously under the water, hatred in his eyes.

"Draco," he said softly. "Was your father always jealous of me?"
"What?"

Harry looked at him. He was already regretting saying this but he wasn't going to back down now.

"Your father is jealous of me," he said softly. "I can tell - the way he was speaking to me, the things he was saying. And...and the way he's been looking at me recently. I...he's jealous of me. Because of my relationship with you. Has it always been like that?"

Draco was staring at him. His eyes were suddenly fearful.

"Rubbish," he said shortly. "Father's not jealous of you. Why would he be jealous of you?"

Harry opened his mouth, then closed it again. He couldn't say what he'd seen. Not possibly. That would be cruel and whatever Harry's emotions were about the Malfoy family, he didn't want to be cruel.

But he had a feeling it was too late. He could see a fearful realisation in Draco's eyes.

"He's not jealous of you," Draco said again. "You're just paranoid."

Harry swallowed any sort of reply and looked away. He couldn't bring himself to have this conversation any longer. Draco looked away, tugging at the blankets in an anxious way.

"Screw you Potter!" he snarled suddenly and stormed out, leaving Harry staring silently after him. He let himself slump back down onto the damp pillows, closing his eyes and breathing deeply. This place was crazy. He had to get out of here. He didn't think he could stand this any longer.

Harry slowly sat up and shook his hair, letting the remaining drops of water scatter around. He then quietly walked over to the door and opened it, peering out uncertainly.

He didn't know what he planned to do but he just had to get out of this room by himself and at least try to find a way out. If they asked, he'd say he was walking. But he had to try. He wasn't going to weakly lie around and despair again. He had to get out of here.

It didn't work. He was half way down the corridor when he met Narcissa coming the other way. She smiled at him, a friendly smile which didn't reach her eyes. They remained icy cold.

"Harry! Are you all right now after your fright?"
"After Lucius tried to kill me you mean?" Harry said rudely. He might make an effort with Draco but he wasn't ever going to make an effort with Narcissa, except to try and hide the fact that he had his memories. That was all.

"Don't be silly," Narcissa said calmly. "He was just angry."

"And tried to kill me!" Harry said. "He shoved my head in a basin!"

Narcissa didn't seem to feel that this was a particularly good death attempt. She looked at him in a somewhat patronising way which made Harry's blood boil. He tried to push past her but she caught his arm.

"Where are you going?" she asked.

"For a walk," Harry said shortly. "This is my home too you know. I can walk wherever I want."

"Not by yourself," Narcissa said firmly. "You know that you aren't allowed. While you still have amnesia, it isn't safe for you to wander aimlessly around. You might start all sorts of trouble. You'd be much better to say inside your room or allow one of us to escort you."

"I don't need a keeper," Harry said, aware that he sounded frustrated and not caring.

"You don't want to get hurt do you?" Narcissa said.

"I've got amnesia," Harry said flatly. "How could it possibly get worse?"

Narcissa stepped towards him and caught his chin in her hand, forcing him to look up at her.

"You could die."

She said it very simply and there was no real threat in the words. But Harry felt ice go through him and knew that he definitely didn't want to disobey her. He stepped away, resisting the temptation to reach up and clutch at his coral which was feeling hot under his robes. He stared at her and she stared back coldly.

"You've had a lot of leeway in this house so far Harry," she said softly. "Don't push your luck. You may be my son's boyfriend but I assure you, no one breaks the Malfoy rules and gets away with it."

Harry said nothing. He didn't trust himself to speak. He simply stared at her, hoping that he wasn't shivering at all. Narcissa gave him a sweet smile.

"Now, where would you like to go?" she asked.

"I'll go to the library," Harry replied, proud that his voice was steady and as cool as Narcissa's.

She took him there but didn't follow him in. Harry sat by the window and leaned his head against it, breathing deeply and trying to think. Had he always been like this or was the Malfoy Manor driving him crazy? He was swinging between angry and depressed like he was on a see-saw. What did he think he was going to accomplish by winding the Malfoys up? He was normally so calm and sensible - at least, he liked to think he was normally calm and sensible. He didn't think he was behaving quite like that right now. He felt he was behaving rather stupidly, especially considering that he wanted to live through this experience.

The thing was, he didn't think that he'd ever been quite so scared before. It was hard to explain it, even to himself. It was the feeling of total helplessness - that was what was sapping his energy and courage so much. That and the constant need to lie and pretend to everyone around him with no sign that this was ever going to let up.

Harry groaned and put his head in his arms. What was he going to do?

"Master Harry?"

Squeak. Harry grinned weakly at her, glad to see someone who looked vaguely friendly.

"Hey Squeak," he said, hoping he didn't sound depressed.

Obviously she wasn't convinced. Or perhaps she'd heard about his earlier crying spell. Whatever it was, Squeak looked very worried, then hopped up onto the window seat beside him and looked at Harry worried, her head on one side like a bird.

"Poor Master Harry," she said sadly. "You is all unhappy."
"I hate it here," Harry whispered passionately "I hate the Malfoys and I hate their home! I just wish I could leave!"

Squeak said nothing. There obviously wasn't much she could say. Harry looked at her, trying to think.

"Squeak," he said eventually. "Couldn't you go? Get out of here and take a message from me to somebody I mean?"

Squeak looked terrified. She began twisting her pillowcase anxiously. Harry gave her a pleading stare.

"Squeak please!" he said desperately. "Please! I can' stand it here, I've got to get out and there's nothing I can do to get away!"
"Squeak cannot!" Squeak said pitifully. "Squeak cannot leave Malfoy Manor, Master Harry, she can't! Tis against the rules!"
"Why?" Harry asked. "Dobby could leave! He did leave, he gave me messages. Squeak, please."

Squeak's ears drooped.

"Dobby was different," she said rather pathetically. "Since Dobby's badness, Master Lucius made the rules different so that we can't leave until we are released. We is trapped here, just as you are."
Harry paused.

"What about if I free you?" he suggested, the thought coming in a burst of inspiration. "You said you were sort of mine - can I free you?"

"No," Squeak said unhappily. "The house-elves enslavement is more complex than that Master Harry. You would free me from my service to you but Squeak would still belong to the Malfoy Manor until Master Lucius freed me. And he will not do that. Squeak is a good house-elf."

"You could just behave really badly and get him to sack you," Harry said, then realised that was cruel. Being sacked was the most terrible thing for a house-elf to endure as proved by Winky who had sunk into a terrible state after Mr Crouch had sacked her. Of course, she had liked Mr Crouch and it was quite plain that none of the house-elves who worked for the Malfoys liked them.

But Squeak was shaking her head. Not panickedly, but sort of resignedly.

"Master Lucius does not free bad house elves," she said softly. "Master Lucius kills bad house elves."
Harry gaped at her. Squeak looked back gravely.
"Us house-elves have several chances," she said. "Master Lucius is generous - good house-elves are hard to find. If we punish ourselves in a suitable manner by ourselves, Master Lucius does not mind. But if we do something bad to affect him, we is punished for it. And if we keep doing bad things, eventually Master Lucius will kill us."

Harry shuddered.

"I hate him!" he burst out. "I hate him and his wife and his stupid son!"
"Master Harry must keep his voice down!" Squeak hissed, looking anxiously around her. "Master Harry must not be caught saying such things!"

"Even if they're true?" Harry muttered but Squeak gave him such a fierce look that Harry sighed and nodded obediently.

"Squeak must go soon," Squeak said. "She should be working."
She looked around.
"Does Master Harry need anything?"
Harry thought about everything he needed - to get out of here, to talk to his friends, to actually feel safe and secure - then shook his head.

"I'm fine Squeak," he said. "Really, I feel much better."
To his surprise, the house-elf gave him a hug before vanishing. Harry was surprised to discover that he actually felt vaguely comforted after his conversation and got off the window seat to wander among the shelves, just to see what was around. He was still half-looking for something about how broken wands worked but he didn't seem to be able to find anything and since he didn't know where to look, it didn't help.

"What this place needs is a librarian," he muttered, settling in an unfamiliar looking set of shelves (like the rooms, the bookshelves seemed to move around) and pulling out a random book to flip through.

He was half way through his second one when Draco came in. Harry decided to play the sulky boyfriend part and refused to look up, putting a hurt look on his face. He heard Draco sigh and then the blond sat down behind to him and wrapped his arms around his waist.

"I'm sorry," he said, sounding fairly genuine for once. "I didn't mean to upset you."

"You say that a lot," Harry said grumpily, meaning it too. Draco sighed and to Harry's alarm, kissed the back of Harry's neck.

"Hey, I'm naturally grumpy," he said softly. "I'm working on that. You're teaching me - remember?"
"Obviously not," Harry said with a sigh, closing his book, knowing that he would read no words while Draco Malfoy was that close. It made him uncomfortable, particularly as he knew the entire thing was faked.

To his minor surprise, Draco didn't seem to want to move away. He was still nuzzling the back of Harry's neck gently, breathing on it. It actually felt rather nice but Harry didn't like the fact that it felt nice and wanted to move away. But he suspected that moving away would look very odd. So he pretended to be happy enough and snuggled back, actually hoisting himself onto Draco's lap. He hoped that more contact would put Draco off. It normally did.

Draco kissed the back of Harry's neck, then moved round slightly and began to suck at the side of Harry's throat. Harry shifted uncomfortably but Draco had his arms around his waist and was holding him tightly as he kept sucking. Harry didn't know how to deal with this and settled for closing his eyes and wondering if he should be making any noises. He was fairly sure that he should be but he didn't want to sound stupid or make the wrong sounds. Draco suddenly left the patch that he'd been sucking (which was good as it now felt rather painful) and twisted Harry's face round to kiss him. Harry let him, trying to respond in a convincing manner and wishing that he was a better actor.

Then to his utter shock and horror, Draco's hand suddenly dropped down and rested on his crotch.

This was too much for Harry. With a strangled yelp-scream, he threw himself backwards and crashed into the bookcase. It rocked ominously and Harry swore, dodging some dislodged books and instinctively reaching for his wand and trying to remember a spell that would hold a solid object still. Draco swore and flung out his own wand, gasping something out. The bookcase stopped moving but a large amount of books were already lying on the floor.

"What was that for?" Draco asked, sounding rather hurt.

Harry was still breathing heavily and didn't answer. How could he explain that no one had ever touched him in such a personal manner before and even if it hadn't been Draco Malfoy doing the touching, he would have liked some sort of warning first. He felt like his privacy was being intruded on and he didn't like it one little bit.

Of course, explaining this to Draco Malfoy was not an easy task. Draco was still watching him quizzically.

"It...it just didn't feel right," Harry tried to explain. "I...I liked it when you kissed me but when you put your hand there...it just didn't feel right."

He looked at Draco, wondering how he was reacting to this. A small smile was playing about Draco's lips, but Harry couldn't decide whether it was a sadistic smile or an amused one. He decided not to react to either and just sat there, still trying to soothe his disturbed emotions.

"Sorry," Draco said at last. "I just thought maybe I should try to remind you of how we used to be - before you lost your memory."

There was something in his voice that made Harry looked at him sharply. Draco smiled back, then stood up.

"Sorry if I'm rushing you," he said, then bent down to begin gathering the books up. Harry watched him, aware that his heart was beating very fast.

Draco suspects something.

Exactly how much Draco knew or suspected wasn't clear to Harry but it was clear to him that Draco obviously thought there was something wrong with Harry's behaviour and naturally, the only real conclusion that was there was the idea that Harry was pretending to have lost his memory. Harry swallowed, trying to calm himself down and think of something he could say or do to rectify the situation. All it would take would be one word from Draco to his parents and Harry was in big trouble. He had to stop Draco's suspicions now, before they got any worse.

There was only one thing that he could think of to do. And it was making his stomach clench.

"It's not that you're rushing me," he heard his voice saying from somewhere far away. "Not in the way you mean. It's just that...well, I sort of thought there was more build-up. You know? That was a bit abrupt."

Draco slowly turned to look at him, still holding the books. Harry swallowed, still feeling like all this was being said from a very long way away by somebody else.

"But...I mean, obviously you're probably missing this stuff. I'm not really...I mean, I don't remember most of it to miss it. But...well, maybe I should make some new memories?"

Draco blinked at him and they stood there in silence. Harry found himself hoping desperately that something, anything would interrupt this conversation and get him out of the hole he had just put himself in.

"You...you want to?" Draco asked, his voice nervous.

"Sure," Harry lied "Why not?"

There was another pause and Harry saw Draco swallow. Oh shit...

"Draco! Harry! What are you doing?"

Narcissa, looking furious. Both boys jumped and turned to stare at her with equally guilty looks. Harry knew he was blushing and hated himself for it.

"I could hear the crashes from downstairs," Narcissa said, glaring at Draco. "May I ask why you wanted to destroy the library?"

"It was an accident," Draco said, sounding nervous. "We didn't mean to."

Narcissa pursed her lips and Harry realised she looked remarkably like Aunt Petunia when she did that. The idea made him want to laugh and he desperately pressed his lips together to stop the laugh coming out. That was all they needed - Harry to tell Narcissa that she reminded him of a Muggle who had too much neck.

Perhaps Narcissa sensed it though. She looked more annoyed than ever. Her eyes flicked over Harry's throat and Harry realised with shame that Draco had obviously left a lovebite.

"Since you obviously have nothing better to do than demolish the library," she said icily, "You had better come with me. I shall find something more productive for you to do."

Harry groaned along with Draco to try not to look out of place. But inside, he was singing. Narcissa appearance had certainly been timely and crushed a very uncomfortable conversation.

For now at least.

Harry had a feeling that he hadn't seen the last of this particular thread of conversation.

Narcissa set them both to work turning mattresses, insisting it was all done in the Muggle way (which was a shame for Harry as he'd been hoping that Draco would tell him how to use his broken wand - it had been a long shot but he'd hoped anyway). For a change, this was a form of Muggle cleaning and tidying that Harry didn't have practise with - about the only thing no one had ever tried to make him do in the Dursleys was turn mattresses (he didn't know if anyone in the Dursleys ever had turned a mattress). They had to turn them top to toe and over, making it harder than if it was just round. Draco was furious, fuming about it being house-elves work and it not being fair that he had to do it, it wasn't his fault they'd nearly knocked the bookcase over. Harry was too busy concentrating on lifting the heavy mattresses without breaking his spine to respond to his sulks.

"Why does she want them turning?" he finally panted after he'd banged his head on the mattress for what felt like the hundredth time.
"I don't know," Draco said, leaning on the bed post and looking thoughtful. "I suppose we're having visitors - Mother always has the mattresses turned in the main guest bedrooms when we are having visitors."
"You must be having a lot," Harry said.

"We often do, I told you," Draco said. "It can't be a for a while though - Mother has them turned early to let them air. Or something. I don't know."

"Or of course, she could just be doing it because she's a sadistic old hag," Harry suggested as he forced the mattress upwards.

"That's my mother you're talking about!" Draco snapped. "Don't call her that!"

Well she is

a sadistic old hag Harry thought but knew better than to press the point. He wouldn't forget the fact that the last time he'd insulted Draco's mother, Draco had tried to put a curse on him when his back was turned.

Then Mad-eye Moody had turned him into a ferret.

Harry tried to hide his dreamy smile at the memory. Noticing Draco giving him an odd look, he instantly decided to bring it up.

"Draco," he said. "Did I ever have a pet ferret?"

Draco nearly dropped his end of the mattress.

"Ferret?" he spluttered.

"Yes," Harry said, making his voice dreamy and innocent. "I think I remember...a white one. A really sweet little white ferret that used to bounce around a lot..."
He had to choke back his laughter. Draco's face had turned slightly green and it was clearly a memory that he didn't exactly relish.

"We never owned a ferret," he said, as though Harry had just asked if the family had ever suffered from syphilis. "I hate ferrets."

"Really?" Harry asked. "I don't remember that. I'm sure we owned a ferret. Called Moody wasn't it? Grumpy? Something like that."

Draco turned greener than ever.

"We never owned a ferret!" he said, sounding slightly desperate.

"Oh," Harry said. "Could we get one?"
"NO!"

Harry managed to stifle an urge to howl with laughter. Draco was practically shaking.

Obviously, Moody had left him with a long-lasting phobia of ferrets.

"Are you sure?" he asked. "Ferrets are so cute."

"I don't do ferrets," Draco said firmly, pushing at the other end of the mattress and helping Harry keep it in place. "Nor do I do any sort of rodents. Weasley is quite enough for that."

Harry felt a surge of anger. He "dropped" his end of the mattress and Draco yelled as it felt straight over and landed on his head. Harry hid a smirk and carefully helped Draco get the mattress off his head, apologising for dropping it in the first place and wondering if the knock had knocked some sense into Draco.

Somehow, he doubted it.

* * * *

Draco lay awake that night, staring up at the canopy and worrying.

Potter was behaving oddly. All right, so he'd been behaving oddly since he arrived here - he shouldn't be here, didn't belong here and he probably knew that. Plus there was the problem of amnesia which naturally didn't lead to people behaving in the way that you expected them to.

But still. His behaviour was even more peculiar than usual. That thing about ferrets...it seemed to be an odd little jibe. And now Draco thought about it, he could remember several such jibes from Harry over the time he'd been there. Little things...those funny "fake-memories" that he sometimes came out with. And those shuttered eyes of his sometimes showed an emotion that looked like....well, it looked almost like malice.

Did

Potter remember the truth? But if he did, how could he possibly still be here? If Draco had found himself staying with the Weasleys and had realised they were lying to him, he would have run away instantly, no matter what the consequences were.

But when Draco had suggested the idea of going further today, Potter had almost accepted. If his mother hadn't interfered...

Draco shuddered slightly. When he'd been kissing Potter today...there'd been a feeling. A feeling that it hadn't been that bad. That he - Draco Malfoy - had almost been enjoying that kiss with Harry Potter.

No! What was wrong with him? He had not been enjoying that kiss and...anything else. He had just been testing Potter.

Only Draco wasn't quite sure what he had proved. At first Potter had freaked. But then...then he'd seemed to want it.

So did that mean that Potter didn't have his memories or did it mean that he did and was lying about it? Surely he couldn't be lying? Draco had a lot of ideas about Potter but him being a very good liar wasn't one of them. Although he was good at hiding his feelings...perhaps they went hand in hand?

Draco wasn't sure. He'd always considered himself a great liar...but he'd never thought of Potter that way.

Was

Potter lying? And if he was, what did that mean? Should Draco discuss his fears with his parents?

Draco didn't like that idea at all. He could imagine their expressions. And if he did...well, Lucius would probably take no chances. He would almost certainly have Harry killed on the spot and would take pleasure in it too.

Which would be a good thing for Draco. Right?

Draco scowled miserably and punched his pillows. What was going on? What was happening to him? Why did he want to protect Potter? Why did he even care?

"Dragonfly?"

Draco stiffened. His father was at the doorway. Draco had been so engrossed in his thoughts that he hadn't even heard the door open.

"What's wrong?" his father asked. "I know that there is something the matter."

Draco sat up and drew his knees protectively up to his chest. This was the time he could tell his father. He could probably end this all now...

"I don't know Father," he heard himself say. "Nothing I suppose."

His father walked into the room and closed the door behind him. Draco hugged his knees tighter and felt his mind go back to the question of Harry Potter.

Exactly how much did Potter know about everything that was going on?

End of Part 4.