Under Your Spell

Under Your Spell

The Only One There

By the Empress of the Eclipse

~~~

Harry was awake and at the window of "his" bedroom, staring out of it at the stars that were scattered over the dark sky. He was playing with his coral and worrying.

Draco was obviously beginning to work something out. If Harry wasn't careful, Draco would probably work out exactly what Harry was doing - which was the last thing that Harry wanted.

He knew that he was in danger - but somehow he couldn't help baiting Malfoy. He liked it. He'd never really wanted to bait Draco Malfoy before. Everyone had always assumed that he'd hatred Draco Malfoy but really Harry just hadn't cared. He hadn't liked Draco Malfoy and if you'd asked, he would have described the emotion as hate - but really he hadn't felt enough about Draco Malfoy to feel hate. Malfoy had just been a frustrating git in Harry's life who Harry rather wished would just get right back out of it. While Malfoy wasn't around, Harry rarely thought about him - only on a few select occasions that he could recall. He had never wanted to pick a fight with Malfoy, except when Malfoy had started it.

But that seemed to be changing. Now Harry realised he was actively trying to think of things to say to Draco that would bait him, only in a subtle way because he couldn't let it be known that he actually disliked him. He wanted to make Draco's life more difficult.

Harry wasn't sure that he liked the change in himself that was making him behave this way. He stroked the smooth coral in his hand and frowned at the sky, watching the shape of a bird cross the sky, briefly blotting out the stars.

Was it an owl? A letter to one of the Malfoys? Or maybe just a normal owl, flying around, hunting.

Harry had always thought that owls were rather cool. The way they glided noiselessly through the air and swept down on their prey without warning.

Now he was the prey, swept down on without warning. And he felt that owls were far less cool.

Harry once again rested his head against the cool wall, staring out of the window again. Sometimes he felt like he could feel the talons of the owl digging into his flesh, pinning him to the ground, imprisoning him and playing with him until he was ready.

But ready for what?

Somewhere among the unpleasant thoughts, Harry fell into an uneasy sleep.

He was woken by a tiny squeal and a hand clutching his wrist. He jumped with the result that he nearly fell out of the still wide open window. Squeak (who had grabbed him) gave another squeal and clung on tighter. She was hanging onto his wrist and tugging backwards. Realising he was teetering on the edge, Harry leaped away and practically landed on Squeak, who just about dodged him. They both sat on the floor, breathing heavily.

"Master Harry must not fall asleep at the window like that!" Squeak finally managed to say, her voice trembling. "Master Harry could have died!"

"I'm sorry," Harry said shakily. "I didn't mean to, I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking."

Squeak glowered at him.

"Master Harry must hide his charm," she said firmly. "He has been playing with it."

Harry obediently hid the charm and stood up, wincing at the stiffness in his muscles.

"Is it really seven?" he asked.

Squeak nodded. She stood up too, staring up at him.

"Will Master Harry be all right?" she asked.

Harry nodded, stretching again.

"I'll wash and change," he said. "See you later Squeak."

She vanished. Harry went off to wash himself. He wanted to have a bath but he knew that he'd be late. He'd just scrub a little, then have a bath after eating.

As soon as he was changed into new crisp robes, he walked down to Draco's room and knocked. When there was no answer, he opened the door and peered inside.

Draco was still asleep. He was curled up on the bed, bare back facing Harry. Harry was about to walk up to him when he thought about what he'd seen while he was here and realised that grabbing Draco while he was in bed was a sure-fire way to freak him out.

"Draco!" he called, forcing his voice to be loud and cheerful. "Wake up time Draco! Draco!"
Draco stirred and looked round at him with bleary eyes. Harry grinned and waved.

"I'll let you get dressed," he said, and closed the door again. He leaned against the wall and waited, once again wondering how he was supposed to behave around Draco without giving away his emotions.

Draco came out a few minutes later. He looked pale and rather drained and the smile he gave Harry was blank and lacked any sort of conviction. Harry followed him, wondering what was wrong, then decided that he probably didn't want to know.

They ate in silence which was normal. Harry personally felt that one of the worst things about being in Malfoy Manor was the lack of conversation - or Harry's own lack of ability to start a conversation anyway. He worried that he would accidentally give away something about himself or give away the fact that he remembered more than he was letting on it. It was a worry that came whenever he opened his mouth and it distracted him.

"Any plans for the day?" he asked.

"No," Draco replied softly.

Harry suddenly wondered if Draco's life was always like this and suspected it was - months of just wandering around a big empty house, probably trying to avoid his father and not doing anything much at all. Harry tried to think of what he did back at the Dursleys. Normally just wandered around the streets and occasionally sat in his bedroom and daydreamed.

Both of them, totally alone and cut off from people. It was a depressing thought - not least because it made Harry suddenly consider the idea of there being similarities between them - and Harry quickly banished it. It was replaced with another, rather more amusing thought.

If Harry had been a girl in one of those stupid teen programmes, he would have thought that what Draco Malfoy really needed was a pet.

Harry's brain began to tick quietly to itself.

As soon as they had finished eating and the house-elves had taken the plates away, he looked at Draco and put on his most confused and baffled expression.

"Draco," he said. "When we actually want to find your mother, where do we look?"

"Oh, her study normally," Draco said, obviously not having any problems answering this question. "Obviously if she isn't there, it can be a little more difficult...but she's normally in the study or something like that."

"Where's her study?" Harry asked innocently.

Draco promptly rattled off a stream of directions that meant sod all to Harry. He once again wished that the Malfoy Manor had some sort of tourist system set up with You Are Here maps placed in strategic positions. He caught the words left of the library somewhere in the directions and decided this meant the library would be a good place to start.

"Can we go to the library?" he asked hopefully.

Draco gave him a rather funny look but obviously didn't feel there was much odd about this request - they spent a lot of time in the library.

"Is there anything in particular you want to look up when we go in there?" he asked as they stood up.

"No," Harry lied. "I'm just trying to reacquaint myself with some of the things I used to know."
He heard Draco snort and mutter softly "Like you knew half of this stuff."

"Sorry?" Harry said innocently. "What did you say?"
"Nothing," Draco said quickly. "Nothing...."

Harry followed him up the library, wondering vaguely how on earth to go left from it. He let Draco get distracted in a book which looked a lot like it was about Quidditch, then slipped out and walked left, peering in through the doors that weren't locked and wondering if he should summon a house-elf to give him a hand.

It turned out not to be necessary. He spotted a tall ebony door, carved delicately with snakes. Harry winced at them slightly - they were far too realistic for his taste. He carefully opened the door and peered inside. Narcissa was sitting at a huge desk, reading what seemed to be a letter. She was looking curious and stroking an eagle owl, hooting softly to itself. Harry closed the door again and then knocked politely.

"Enter!"
Harry walked in and closed the door politely. Narcissa looked up at him and smiled. Obviously it was one of the lets-pretend-we're-all-friends days. Harry tried to look innocent again.

"Narcissa," he said. "Um...Draco and I...yesterday, we were talking."

"Yes?"

"Well, I was remembering...I remembered a ferret," Harry explained. "And I remember liking ferrets. And...well...well, I was wondering...well, I asked Draco if we could have a ferret but he said...he said you might not like it. So I thought that perhaps...I mean, would I be allowed to have some ferrets?"

Narcissa was looking a little puzzled but she smiled once Harry had finished his rather stumbled sentence.

"Of course you may have ferrets," she said. "I don't know why Draco thinks you can't have any ferrets. How many would you like?"

The evil thought in Harry's brain grew more evil.

"Could...could I have enough to breed them?" he asked. "I think...I mean, while I don't remember stuff, there's not much to do. And when Draco goes back to school...I think it would be fun to have something to play with."

"All right," Narcissa said. "You shall have some breeding ferrets."

Harry smiled at her gleefully. He felt a little mean but he felt it bloody served Draco right.

Besides, he actually did think that ferrets were rather sweet.

He walked back to the library slowly, hoping Draco hadn't missed him. As soon as he opened to door, he could hear Draco humming to himself somewhere over by the window. When Harry looked carefully through the bookshelves, he saw that Draco was reading one of their school text books and was writing things on a sheet of parchment. He looked and sounded quite relaxed, more relaxed than Harry could ever remember seeing him. Harry found himself wondering if Draco was just relaxed because he wasn't with Harry. Was this what Draco looked like when he was at home normally? Not that the Malfoy Manor felt even remotely relaxing to Harry but then Draco had lived here all of his life...

Harry sighed and turned back to the bookshelves, picking out a book with a shocking pink cover. It turned out to be about the Goblin Rebellions - which Harry thought was totally typical of the of the Malfoy family. Only they would have a book about harsh and bloody Goblin Rebellions with a bright pink cover!

Harry actually got quite absorbed in the book (which portrayed the Goblin Rebellions as a hundred times more interesting than Professor Binns had) and nearly jumped out of his skin when someone touched his shoulder.

"Hi."

Draco was grinning down at him. Harry hit his knees with the book.

"Don't do that!"

"What, say hi to you?" Draco said dryly. "It's hardly my fault you get engrossed in your books, is it?"

Harry glowered at him, then stood up rather awkwardly and tried to think of something he could say that wouldn't seem peculiar. Draco smiled at him quite calmly.

"I've been doing homework," he said. "Need to get it done - I'll have to go back soon."

Harry flinched involuntarily. Was it so close to September? What would happen if he couldn't go back to school? And what would his friends do? What would Draco do?

He quickly pushed away the thoughts and forced a smile onto his face. Draco had obviously seen his unhappy expression though and his smile turned into a genuine looking sympathetic one.

"It must hurt not to remember why you were expelled from school," he said. "It's probably more annoying than knowing why you were expelled."

Harry nodded, resisting the urge to give Draco a good punch. Expelled from Hogwarts...the only person after this who was going to be expelled from Hogwarts was Draco Malfoy, and Harry was going to see that he was going to end up in Azkaban. But he hid this completely from Draco and simply smiled again, making his smile sad. This was easy.

"Yes," he said. "I'm sure if I could just remember, it would be quite fair. But since I can't...it just feels unfair. And I don't want you to go."

He saw an alarmed look cross Draco's face and knew that he was nearing the territory which Draco found frightening - the territory of 'we-are-really- in-some-sort-of-relationship'.

"I don't know what I'll do without you," Harry continued, putting depression into his voice. "This house...it's beautiful but I don't remember it. You're the only thing....only thing that makes me feel safe."

Bright magenta spots appeared on Draco's cheekbones and he looked away. Harry wondered if he was faking embarrassment or if he was really embarrassed. Either way, it was quite amusing in a sadistic sort of way.

"You'll be safe enough," Draco said softly. "This is your home after all."

Harry looked down at the pink cover of the book to hide his expression. His home. Even the Dursleys' house had felt more like home than this place did. And if he ever found himself considering Malfoy Manor as home, then he was going to throw himself out of the window then and there.

"Harry," Draco said suddenly. "Did you mean what you said yesterday?"

Oh no.

Harry felt his stomach clench and looked at Draco, forcing his expression to remain completely neutral.

"Um...which bit?" he asked, aware that his voice sounded very funny.

"About us," Draco said quietly. "About how far you wanted us to go."

"Of course," Harry lied, amazed at how fluent-sounding his lies were getting - well, to his own ears anyway. "Why wouldn't I?"

"Well...I was wondering if you wanted to come to my room. Make good on your promise."
Harry felt his stomach twist. Draco was pushing the boundaries again. He wanted to make Harry crack.

Well, Harry wasn't going to give him that satisfaction.

He nodded his head.

"Sure."

They walked to Draco's room in silence. Harry found himself looking around to try and find some sort of way to escape. This absolutely could not be happening. It couldn't be. It would have been bad enough to be willingly prostituting himself to any boy but Draco Malfoy...Draco Malfoy, a boy he hated over any other. Why him? And how far were they going to go? How far could Harry go before he could back off? And what if he couldn't....what if he couldn't perform?

Oh shit, shit, shit....

The room looked as it always did. Draco pointed Harry towards the bed, then closed and locked the door. Then he walked over and drew the thick curtains over the window, dimming the light in the room to a strange dusky yellow-grey colour. Harry sat timidly on the bed, suddenly noticing that his fingernails were digging into his hands in terror. He was sweating hard and his breath was coming in funny little gasps. He suddenly felt boxed in, he wanted to escape, he had to get out...

Draco walked over to the bed and sat beside Harry as he thought this. He leaned in and kissed Harry deeply, hands cradling Harry's face. Harry tried to respond but he didn't really know how so just settled for putting his hands on Draco's shoulders and trying to pretend that he was actually being kissed by a girl. This proved to be something of a distracting method and Harry desperately tried to think of a girl that he would actually like to be kissing. He'd always annoyed the boys in the Gryffindor dormitory by proving to be remarkably asexual. Apart from his crush on Cho and the occasional crush on other random girls, he'd never really shown any interest. He'd never had the confidence to chase the girls that he liked and when Dean and Seamus had tried to coax him into a conversation about sex, Harry had proved most unwilling. He had never found himself with any particular interest in sex if he was honest with himself. As far as he could tell, there had never been a reason for this lack of interest - it was just the case. He just didn't care very much about having sex and couldn't really see the attraction of sleeping with any random girl that came along. He was happy to wait for the right girl and if she never came along, well that was okay too. He'd made the mistake of voicing this belief to Dean and Seamus, both of whom had promptly declared him either abnormal or impotent and in denial.

Harry suspected that intimate action with Draco Malfoy would be enough to render him impotent forever.

Draco kissed him harder, as though sensing Harry's lack of concentration. He suddenly pushed Harry back onto the bed, lying on top of him. Harry felt like he was sinking into a sea of warm velvet, Draco's weight crushing him down into it. Draco's body was hot against his and Harry felt very cold and very sick as Draco's tongue pushed against his lips, a warm lump of flesh trying to get into somewhere it didn't belong. Harry obediently parted his lips, trying not to gag on the tongue, the sick feeling in his gut increasing. This was wrong, this was not how it should be. He felt like things were being taken from him, ripped away with great force and there was nothing he could do to stop it happening. This was rape only Harry was letting it happen!

Draco shifted slightly on top of him, pushing one of his knees between Harry's legs. Harry felt something hard against his thigh and squeezed his eyes tightly shut, trying to imprison tears there. Was Draco actually enjoying this? He certainly seemed to be if that hard...thing...was anything to go by! And how was Harry supposed to pretend that he wanted this when he didn't want it, he didn't, he didn't!

A tear actually escaped, running down his face to sink into the velvet. Draco didn't seem to notice. He left Harry's mouth suddenly to nuzzle into the hollow of his throat, tongue lapping at it. Harry wondered if it was supposed to feel erotic. To him, it just felt wet.

Although bits of it did feel strangely pleasant. Draco's fingers stroking down his arms gently was nice and his knee kept shifting slightly against Harry's crotch and that definitely felt...

No. Nononononononononononononononononononononono.

Harry ground his teeth together to try not to whimper, his brain half hysterical now with sick terror. This wasn't happening, it wasn't, it wasn't, it wasn't...

Draco's mouth was back on his now and his hands had left Harry's arms and was reaching for the fastenings on his robes. Harry wanted to push him off but he was frozen now, completely unable to move. This couldn't happen...

Then they were suddenly wrenched apart and Harry felt something hit him. He didn't feel anything at first except the shock of the blow, like a sledgehammer. Confused, he blinked and Lucius Malfoy's face came into focus above them, his face twisted with rage. Harry suddenly realised that his head was aching badly and saw Lucius Malfoy holding his cane. He'd hit Harry with it.

Draco leaped up and clutched his father's arm, pulling him away from Harry and the bed. Still holding it, he began to whisper to his father, far too quietly to Harry to hear anything but the undertone of desperation there. Harry slowly sat up, one hand dazedly pressing to his forehead which was stinging sharply. He noticed that he was absently readjusting his robes as he watched Draco and Lucius together. Draco was standing very close to his father, practically pressed against him and Harry suddenly became aware that he was stroking his father's hand gently, face turned up to his father's with a strangely innocent and pleading expression there.

What on earth was he doing?

It was easy to work out when he saw Draco press closer. Harry felt a sick twist in his stomach and was aware that he was recoiling slightly on the bed, his lip curling instinctively. Draco was trying to protect Harry, probably on the grounds that he wanted to keep their ruse going a while longer and Lucius dissecting Harry with his cane would not be conducive to this. Or maybe he was just afraid of what his father would do to him. So he was using the only thing he could use against his father to try and keep them safe.

Sex.

Harry wanted to throw up. He stood up and walked over, staring defiantly at Lucius Malfoy, almost daring him to hit him again. Lucius's grey eyes stared back, rage-filled and burning with bitter jealousy. Draco stepped away from his father and looked between them anxiously.

"I'm very sorry Mr Malfoy," Harry said softly, eyes remaining fixed on Lucius Malfoy's. "We didn't hear you knock."

He suspected Lucius Malfoy hadn't knocked at all but he needed a reason for why Lucius was behaving this way that sounded vaguely realistic and this was the only one he could think of.

"No," Lucius said, his own voice dangerously soft. "That much I guessed."

"Father, what did you want?" Draco asked, his voice somewhat panicked.

"Your mother wants to see you both," Lucius said, his voice now sounding stiff. "Outside in the Ianthe Garden."

"The what?" Harry said, puzzled.

"Come on," Draco said, grabbing his arm and pulling him out. Lucius followed them closely, practically breathing down their necks.

"That what?" Harry repeated.

"Did I never tell you?" Draco said, sounding slightly more relaxed now they were out of the bedroom. "The gardens are all named after old Malfoys. The Ianthe Garden is round the side of the house, quite high up. It's one of the ones that's fallen into disrepair somewhat - I wonder why Mother wants us there."

Harry suspected he knew the reason. And as they traipsed up the hill through gardens that were getting wilder and more tangled, his suspicions hardened. This was just the sort of place...

There was a twisted archway leading to the Ianthe Garden, covered in tangled rose briars that had grown wildly and out of control. Harry ducked through and instantly saw Narcissa, standing beside a large pen, surrounded by other small rabbit hutch things. He felt Draco freeze beside him as he saw the contents of the pen. Harry felt his face light up.

"Here you are Harry," Narcissa said, her face lightening up with one of those smiles that still made Harry's stomach turn over somewhat. "Ferrets."

Harry sped up slightly and knelt beside the wire run. A large snowy white ferret stared back at him. There were five others in varying colours bounding around the cage. Seeing Harry, then all clustered round the edge, obviously trying to see if he had any treats. Harry had never thought much about ferrets before but he took one look at this lot and knew that he was going to like them. He realised he was grinning in a rather stupid manner but decided to leave it on since it would help convince the Malfoys that he was still memory-less.

"They're adorable!" he said.

"Good," Narcissa said, resting a hand on his shoulder. "There's a spell on them so you can tell which are male and which are female. All you need to do is hold the ferret in his hands and ask and then you'll know. You'll have to name them, although I'll expect Draco will want to have a say in that."

Draco made a sound that was between a squeak and a wail. Harry tried not to let his goofy grin turn into a smirk. Poor little Draco. A quick glance at his face showed that he was looking slightly greenish. Lucius was just looking blank.

"Here," Narcissa said, pressing a book into Harry's hand. "It the Magical Ferret Manual. This will teach you everything you need to know about ferrets. They are enchanted to behave very well for a while but they will soon behave in their normal manner."

Harry nodded to show that he understood. Narcissa smiled beautifully, then suddenly frowned. Her grip on Harry's shoulder tightened and she pulled him round, her other hand brushing his hair away to stare at the growing bruise.

"Harry? What have you done to your face?"

Harry flashed a quick, instinctive look at Lucius Malfoy. Lucius's face had gone stiff again as he stared at them both. Harry looked back at Narcissa.

"Fell over," he said.

"Fell over?" Narcissa repeated, her lips tightening. "Fell over onto what?"

Harry shrugged, letting his face go sullen. Narcissa frowned then leaned down and kissed the bruise lightly (Harry resisted the urge to shove her away) before standing up and walked over to Lucius, taking his arm firmly.

"We'll leave the boys with their ferrets," she said. "They'll want to name them."
She practically pulled Lucius off out of the garden and Harry suspected that Lucius was going to get a bollocking. He couldn't bring himself to care much. He turned back to the ferrets, aware that Draco was walking up behind him. He wished he hadn't turned his back when Draco hit him sharply on the exact spot Lucius had.

"You little git! Couldn't you have thought of a better cover story than that! And where have these things come from?"

Harry glared at him angrily.

"I asked your mother if we could have some," he said sharply. "I wanted some and she didn't seem to mind, even if you were being such a pain about it! And what was I supposed to say - your father hit me! I thought I was very good to lie at all."

Draco sat down beside him with a thump and dragged his fingers through his hair.

"You have to get used to it," he said softly, his voice oddly muffled and haunted sounding. "You have...it's how things are here, you just have to..."

Harry felt a wave of guilt assault him as he looked at Draco. Normally Draco was so in control, almost as though he believed that this house was normal and that he belonged here. When he suddenly seemed to lose control and be frightened...was he going to cry?

Harry anxiously put a hand on Draco's shoulder, desperate to stop him losing control any more than he had.

"I'm sorry," he said, aware that his voice was sounding slightly panicked. "Don't be upset Draco, I'm sorry..."

Draco looked at him and the grey eyes were strangely damp but not with tears - at least, Harry didn't think they were tears.

"I hate this place," he said aloud without thinking.

Draco blinked and the liquid in the eyes vanished.

"You what? This is your home."

He didn't sound upset by Harry's comment. He sounded suspicious. Harry swallowed, knowing he'd made a stupid mistake and not knowing what to say to make it better. He stared at Draco and then shrugged a bit.

"It's not my home," he said stiffly. "I can't remember it."

"I thought you said you could," Draco said, still staring intently at Harry's face. Harry simply stared back, hoping his face was completely bland and emotionless.

"Only bits," he said.

Draco raised an eyebrow, then turned away and looked back at the ferrets. A look of disgust crossed his face.

"What are we supposed to do with these?"

"Name them," Harry said, unable to keep a slightly wicked tone from his voice. "Play with them. Love them like family."

Draco made a miserable whimpering noise and looked away. Harry grinned and turned back to the cage. He didn't care what Draco thought about the ferrets, he thought they were great and were definitely going to add amusement to his distinctly boring life at Malfoy Manor.

They eventually called the males Avel, Luck and Fate and the females Cira, Kalonice and Destiny. Draco helped Harry with the Avel, Cira and Kalonice, naming them after old Malfoy ancestors after Harry suggested it. Draco seemed to think this would be quite amusing and agreed to it. He suggested some far more outrageous ones at first but Harry tried to whittle them down to ones that he could actually pronounce. Harry had also played some of his rather nasty games, suggesting Hermione, Ginny and Parvati for the three girls. Draco turned rather green and vetoed them very quickly. Harry allowed the two names of some random Malfoy ancestors for two of the females in the end and chose Destiny for the third. He also suggested Fate and Luck for two of the males. Somehow he felt they were fitting - he urgently needed luck to survive and escape this place. He wasn't so sure be believed in destinies and fates but somehow the whole thing seemed fitting enough and therefore he decided to chose them as names. As soon as the naming session was finished, Draco made a quick escape and Harry stepped into the run, closing the gate and beginning to play with them. The ferrets seemed very friendly and happy enough to jump on him and nuzzle at him. Harry wondered if all ferrets were like this or if Narcissa had enchanted then. He rather suspected that he couldn't ask and decided just to trust that it was normal. He petted the enthusiastic little creatures and tried to think.

This house was twisted. Everything in it, everyone in it was twisted. And Harry wasn't sure that he could bear it much longer. But once again, it brought up the question of what exactly Harry was going to do about getting away.

He didn't know where he was and he couldn't find his way around the Manor. So what did that leave?

Harry didn't know. His brain didn't seem to be able to work any more. All he could think of was old plans, all muddled with crazy and stupid ideas. He just couldn't make his brain work any more. Was it a side-effect of being here or had he always been this useless?

And just to make it worse, he was tired. His eyes felt heavy and he wanted to go back to bed. Sighing, he rubbed his eyes slightly, knowing that going back to bed would be pointless. Besides, the Malfoys probably wouldn't let him.

Cira scrambled up his body, as though sensing he was upset and began tugging at the chain that kept the coral around his throat. Harry hastily lifted her away, not wanting it to get broken. She squeaked at him in a rather annoyed manner and let herself get placed on his knees.

"What am I going to do?" Harry asked her. "Any ideas?"

Naturally enough, Cira did not provide any answers. Sighing, Harry put her down on the ground and looked out of the wire mesh cage at the open sky. He wondered if Squeak knew any gemstones or herbs that did things to help along clear thinking.

Eventually, he got to his feet and got out of the enclosure, looking around the Ianthe Garden, a confusing tangle of rose briars and unidentifiable plants. He could see the pathway continued, leading off to other gardens, although these were hidden by walls. Draco hadn't taken him to see this part of grounds. Harry felt that he rather wanted a look. And since Draco wasn't around...

Slowly, he walked over and peered through the archway. The next garden was if anything, even more grey and tangled. Harry walked through it and to the next archway, beginning to feel rather odd. There was something strangely dreamlike about this place. It didn't feel quite real somehow.

Harry paused for a long moment, then kept walking. He wasn't afraid of this place - well, not exactly...

The series of pathways abruptly ended in a circular garden, walled with high grey walls, covered in ivy. There was a dry moss covered stone fountain in the centre, shaped like a fish with a mouth that gaped wide. The great stone basin beneath was cracked and there were words inscribed around the rim. Harry slowly moved over and knelt down, trying to see what they actually said.

Blood is thicker than water but ice is thicker than both.

Harry frowned, wondering what it meant. On the other hand, it was a motto which meant that it could probably have absolutely nothing. Mottos in his experience were just around to look impressive and were completely meaningless.

He peered into the basin, which was empty apart from a pile of brown and yellow leaves. Then he looked around but there was nothing else in the garden. He suddenly realised that he couldn't hear any sound apart from the noises he was making. There was no bird song, no buzzing of insects. Nothing. And there was no wind either. Not even a breeze.

The eerie feeling was building up now. Harry decided that he was definitely getting out of there. There was something very, very wrong with this garden, and the ones around it. He turned to leave -

- and found Lucius Malfoy standing there.

Harry swallowed slightly and put on his blankest face, trying to show no emotion whatso ever. Lucius was smiling, a smile that was definitely not even remotely friendly.

"Hello Mr Potter," he said quietly.

"Hello," Harry said, rather pleased to hear his voice sounding quite cool and aloof. Obviously, he was getting better at pretending to be fine with everything that was happening around him.

Lucius looked around.

"So," he said in a conversational tone. "You've found the Dead Gardens."

"The...what?"

"The Dead Gardens," Lucius repeated. "Some time ago - about five years ago, nearing six now - a spell was attempted here, a spell that went very wrong. Spending too much time here can have...interesting results."
"What was the spell?" Harry asked curiously.

Lucius smiled. It was a very unpleasant smile. He walked up to Harry who tried to step back and bumped into the fountain. To Harry's horror, he reached out and brushed his fingertips down the side of Harry's cheek.

"It was a very complex spell," Lucius continued softly. "I suppose a simple explanation of it would be that it was a revealing spell. A spell to find out whether something was genuine, whether it really was what I thought it was."

His hand moved upwards and tangled in Harry's hair. Harry was trembling now. The look in Lucius's eyes was one that he didn't like at all. What did he want? What was he doing?

"The object...objected," Lucius said, a smirk playing on his lips. "It was designed to repel any spells like that. Spells that might interfere with it's own magical field. And it very much did repel my attempts at magical interference. It was...not very pleasant for me. And it desolated these gardens. Not by damaging them so much...but it drained the life out of them. Killed some things and froze them all in a sort of stasis. Nothing new grows here now. Few animals voluntarily come here. The gardens may be recovering. Slowly. I myself suffered badly from attempting the spell. It was...unpleasant."

His fingers were wandering over Harry's face now, tracing the curve of his jaw line, the ridge of his nose, his lips. Harry was quivering under the touch, completely terrified. He wanted to tell Lucius to get off but somehow his voice box had frozen and he couldn't say anything.

"It was a shame too," Lucius continued. "It was so easy to find out the true nature of that object. So simple. No need to draw the power from so much. Still...I'm glad I did. Despite the pain...it was fun."

Harry said nothing. Lucius was just confirming his belief that Lucius was in fact a crazy sadist. Lucius's smirk widened.

"Do you know what that object was Harry?" he asked, once again delicately caressing Harry's face.

Harry shook his head mutely, staring into the cold grey eyes as though he was mesmerised. It bought his lips into contact with Lucius's fingers again which Lucius seemed to like; his smile broadened at any rate.

"It was a diary," he said quietly. "A very unusual diary."
Perhaps a spark of recognition showed in Harry's eyes. Perhaps Lucius just had a feeling. There was suddenly a cruel look in his eyes and his hand suddenly gripped Harry's chin tightly, eyes boring into his head. Harry gasped slightly and forced his face to look blank. He couldn't allow Lucius to see his recognition of what diary Lucius was talking about, he couldn't.

"Perhaps you know about it?" Lucius said softly, dangerously. "Perhaps you remember the diary?"

"No," Harry said, aware that his voice sounded scared. "I...should I?"

"Yes," Lucius said. "Yes, you really should."

He brushed his fingers through Harry's hair again. Harry felt he should say something to try and keep up the appearance of not remembering Tom Riddle's diary or the trouble it had caused in his second year.

"Why did you need to identify a diary?" he croaked, forcing his voice out from his dry mouth.

Lucius laughed and leaned in closer. His mouth was practically touching Harry's now and when he spoke, his lips brushed against Harry's lightly. It wasn't a kiss but it was so nearly a kiss that Harry found his lips parting in an expectant manner.

"Did Draco tell you about our Lord?" Lucius breathed. "About how he nearly died? Was nearly destroyed?"

"No," Harry whispered hoarsely. "Perhaps it's one of the things he thought I should remember on my own."

He felt that he needed to remind Lucius about the lies the Malfoy family were telling him, what was really going on here. If Lucius revealed too much, later he would wonder why Harry wasn't acting on what he knew.

"Perhaps," Lucius agreed. "The diary was an attempt to revive my Lord in his younger form. I would explain it all to you but I suspect your addled little brain wouldn't managed to process it."

Harry said nothing, not rising to the insult. He wondered what Lucius wanted. This couldn't be it. There was something that Lucius wanted from him but he couldn't work out what it was. Perhaps it would just be bettered to remain quiet until Lucius revealed it.

Besides, he wanted to avoid talking about Tom Riddle's diary. All it would take would be one tiny slip...

"I wonder," Lucius said suddenly. "What does my son see in you?"

This question caught Harry off-guard and he blinked confusedly. Lucius began to stroke his throat delicately. This felt much nicer than when Draco had licked it and Harry gulped. Lucius smiled, obviously enjoying Harry's near tangible fear and if possible, leaned even closer. Every time he spoke now, his lips were brushing over Harry's in a way that Harry was horrified to realise that he found strangely erotic.

"Perhaps it's the sex," Lucius said lightly. "Or maybe it's those big eyes of yours. Such unusual eyes....they could be considered attractive. You're hardly pretty are you?"

"I don't know," Harry said shakily. "About either I mean. I don't remember the....the sex."

Lucius laughed again. Then he kissed Harry viciously on the mouth.

Harry froze rigid. Something told him that moving would be a mistake. There was something ritualistic about this kiss, not erotic. Lucius was reminding him where the balance of power lay.

Then Lucius removed his mouth and threw Harry viciously down to the ground. Harry hit it hard and gasped as all the air whooshed out of him. He heard Lucius's footsteps and then Lucius forced his face up so their eyes were staring into each other's faces again.

"I'm going to warn you Potter," he said, his voice soft and extra polite. "I'm going to warn you just once and if you don't listen, I'm going to be very upset. If you hurt my son, I will personally see that you die a horrible, horrible death. Do you understand?"

Harry couldn't talk. He just glowered darkly at Lucius and nodded his head slightly.
"Good," Lucius said, smiling. "I'm very glad that we had this little talk."

He patted Harry on the head and then stood up and walked away. Harry slowly sat up, rubbing his ribs and trying to suck air into his lungs. Had that really been the entire purpose of the conversation? Somehow, Harry doubted it. He didn't know what else had been involved in the conversation but he knew that there was something else going on. There always was. Everything was double layered in this house, even a kiss.

Sex. Why did everything in this stupid house come back to sex? Okay, Lucius's kiss hadn't been directly to do with sex. In a strange way, it had been totally non-sexual. But it was still a kiss.

Not for the first time, Harry realised that the Malfoy family was completely and totally twisted.

He slowly got to his feet, finally able to breathe properly and walked slowly out of the Dead Gardens, back to the network of ferrets. They instantly bounced up to the pen, clamouring for attention. Harry remembered what Lucius said about being in the Dead Gardens too long having odd effects on things. He hoped the ferrets weren't too near. Where did the Dead Gardens start anyway?

He separated the ferrets into their rabbit hutches, then rather reluctantly left them. He didn't really want to go back down to the house but after his Lucius Encounter, he wanted to feel safe and the only way of feeling safe in Malfoy Manor was to either be with Draco or to be with Squeak. And they were both down at the house.

Harry opened the door carefully and closed it equally carefully. He smiled a bit as he realised he felt like he was breaking in. It was a silly thought but that was how he saw this house. It was a place where he didn't belong and therefore wandering in and out of it at random felt totally wrong.

Harry slowly walked up the huge steps, deciding to find Draco and try and talk him about the ferrets some more. It would definitely annoy Draco but it would be amusing. Besides, Harry needed to read the Magical Ferret Manual and he felt that Draco should be there too.

"Harry?"

Oh no.

Harry turned to face Narcissa, privately resolving that if she tried to kiss him, he was going to hit her on the head with the Magical Ferret Manual.

"Did my husband apologise to you?" Narcissa asked him, her eyes straying to the purpling bruise.

Harry was very tempted to say that if that was what Lucius Malfoy called an apology, he needed to practise in front of a mirror but instead he just nodded. He didn't think he could stand the idea of kicking up a fuss and besides, it would upset Draco. While Harry didn't like Draco, upsetting his only potential human ally would probably be a big mistake.

"Good," Narcissa said. She was using her syrup-light voice which reminded Harry rather a lot of Aunt Petunia. "Would you be a dear and pass a message to Draco from me? There is to be one of our formal dinners in a weeks time. You and Draco are both to attend. I want to Draco to school you in the arts of proper dining as I doubt you remember any of it and it is vital that you don't show us up."

"A formal dinner?" Harry repeated. "Who is coming?"

A rather nasty feeling had begun to stir in his stomach.

"Oh, you won't remember any of them," Narcissa said airily. "Well, except for Wormtail and our Lord of course."

"Ou...our Lord?" Harry croaked, his stomach twisting badly. "You...mean Lord Voldemort?"

"Yes Harry," Narcissa said. Her eyes suddenly narrowed, fixing on Harry's face. "Is something the matter?"

Harry instantly knew that his face was showing some sign of alarmed distress which Narcissa had picked up. And she was suspicious.

"I...I just don't know much about formal dining," he said faintly. "I know Draco will teach me but...in front of a Lord...I don't..."

"You'll be fine," Narcissa said crisply, her eyes still sharp and suspicious. "Draco will prove an impressive teacher. Make sure you tell him. And don't worry. You will probably enjoy the dinner."

Somehow, Harry doubted that. He mumbled something at her, then went up the stairs as fast as he dared, trying not to visibly shake.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit. A formal dinner. With Lord Voldemort. How the hell was he supposed to keep up any sort of pretence at a dinner table with the freak who murdered his parents? For one thing, his scar would split his head open. Why were the Malfoys doing this to him? Did they want him to remember?

Well, of course he already had remembered everything but they didn't know that.

Harry trailed miserably to Draco's room, frantically trying to think of something, anything that would be a plausible excuse for getting out of a formal Death Eater dinner.

Draco was sitting cross-legged on his bed, playing rather forlornly with his wand. He looked somewhat lonely which made Harry feel oddly surprised. He would have thought Draco had been used to being alone in this house. When Harry wasn't there, surely he was always by himself.

"Draco," Harry said.

Draco looked up and managed a weak smile. Harry felt his more wicked side stir again and bounced over, jumping onto the bed and kissing Draco firmly on the lips. To his shock, Draco twitched violently away, a look of disgust rippling over his features. It was the first time he'd so blatantly broken "the rules" as Harry thought of them and he was annoyed to find that it surprised him. He put on his most inane pouty look.

"What's the matter?" he asked.

Draco turned away, twirling his wand round in his fingers like a baton.

"Nothing."

This was so blatantly untrue that Harry actually sniggered. Draco gave him a look which was a combination of angry and hurt. Harry shrugged.

"Come on," he said, draping his arms around Draco's shoulders. "What's the matter darling?"

Draco flinched, obviously not liking being called darling. Harry felt his lips quirk again and hid it by kissing Draco's neck in what he hoped was an affectionate manner. He wasn't sure why but he felt like seriously annoying Draco and this seemed to be the best way. He felt Draco try to wriggle away somewhat and hung on, nibbling gently.

"Potter, get off."

"Ooooh, Potter is it?" Harry mock-teased, sucking at Draco's neck, wondering what would happen if he left a love-bite. "Come on, what's eating you?"

Draco wrenched himself away violently and stalked over to the window. Harry cocked his head on one side and looked at him. Draco was obviously not in the mood for any sort of fun and games.

"Why did you want ferrets?" Draco snapped from the window. "Why ferrets? I told you that I hate ferrets!"

"I wanted some," Harry said, aware that he sounded obstinate and not caring. "I like ferrets."

"So you went behind my back and asked my mother - my mother - for ferrets!" Draco snapped.

Harry wondered whether Draco was annoyed that Harry had gone behind his back or whether it was because Harry had managed to get something out of Narcissa. He looked at Draco, wondering how to ask tactfully. Draco wasn't looking at him. He was still staring angrily out of the window. As Harry watched, he leaned his head against the glass, suddenly seeming to lose his anger and becoming dejected.

"What do you want Harry?" he asked, his voice as dejected as his stance.

"Your mother told me to come in here," Harry said, aware that his voice sounded blank again. Hopefully, Draco wouldn't pick up on the tremor of fear in it. "I was coming up anyway. But she said...she said you are to teach me formal dining."

"I'm to teach you what?"

Draco gave him a confused stare. Harry looked back.

"Formal dining," he said, forcing a tone of light care-freeness into his voice. There was no reason for him to be in any sort of panic after all. He didn't know anything about Death Eaters or Voldemort, only what he'd been told - which was good after all. "In a week, we're having a party."
"A party?"

Draco sounded completely neutral but Harry could see that the grey eyes were flicking from side to side.

"Yes," Harry said, deciding that if he sounded any happier, he would burst into song. "She didn't mention the guests - well, except Lord Voldemort and Wormtail of course."
Draco's legs literally went limp. Harry had to leap over and steady him as the shocked blond swayed.

"Draco! Are you all right?"

Draco nodded, but he didn't look it. His face was slightly tinged with green and he was shivering slightly. Harry suddenly compared this figure with the Draco he knew - the cold, aloof boy who rarely seemed to show any emotions unless they were extremely strong. What had changed him so badly? Had Harry really caused such an effect in such a short time?

"Are you sure you're all right?" Harry asked, his concern genuine. "Would you like me to fetch your mother?"

"No."

"Your father?" Harry asked without thinking.

"No!"

Draco gave him a horrified look and jerked away.

"I'm fine Harry!"

"Sorry," Harry said "Sorry, sorry..."

He backed away a little, avoiding the bed so that Draco could sit on it in relative safety. Draco sat down and put his head in his hands, taking deep breaths. He finally looked at Harry, his face smooth and perfectly composed again.

"Formal dining?" he said. "It's easy enough. We have a whole week to practise in. Although I suppose some of it will be spent looking after the rodents."

"Ferrets," Harry corrected.

"Ferrets are rodents," Draco said. "Rodents with very good PR."

Harry couldn't help sniggering at that. Draco gave him a rather feeble smile, as though he either didn't think the joke was funny, or didn't realise that he'd made a joke at all. He looked at his hands on his lap.

"So," he said. "That Magical Ferret Manual. Best have a look."
Harry uncertainly sat down beside him and opened the pristine book. Draco nestled up to him and to Harry's slight surprise, rested his head on Harry's shoulder in an almost childish fashion. They began to read it together.

It turned out to be fairly simple to understand. It was in easy to read language and made sense. It did however, contain some rather disturbing charms and spells that you could cast on your ferrets for whatever reason. Some were just upsetting - like training your ferrets to rip out the throats of anyone non-magical. Some were just terribly, terribly worrying - such as one which was supposedly able to train ferrets to give you oral pleasure. After reading that, Harry and Draco both decided that they would just put the book aside for a little while and went for a wander around the house instead. Harry decided to gently probe about the Dead Gardens, simply for the sake of keeping up appearances and showing curiosity about things he didn't know about.

Draco however, proved reluctant to talk about it. He said that he just knew that his father had been doing some spells which had gone wrong and they'd resulted in damaging the gardens - much to Narcissa's displeasure. Harry was tempted to pressed further but he could see Draco was growing seriously agitated again and decided against it. He knew all about Tom Riddle's diary anyway and there was only a certain amount of probing you could do before that became suspicious. So Harry left it alone and convinced Draco to take him to the library instead where he went back to his unending search for books about magic performed with broken wands. Draco went and nestled up on the window seat with a book of some sort. Harry couldn't help wondering why Draco wasn't one of the top students in the school, the amount he read. Perhaps he just didn't ever manage to absorb any of it in this place.

Harry looked around at the shelves, wondering why none of the books in Malfoy Manor seemed to have any sort of titles on the spines. At random, he grabbed a large black and green book and began flicking through. It was rather confusing but seemed to be about some sort of horrible wizarding war. He quickly put it away after only a brief read and changed to another book.

To his amazement, it was about wands.

Gleefully, Harry flicked to the Contents pages and looked down them until he stopped a chapter heading saying Broken wands - what happens then?

Harry went to that chapter and began reading quickly. The book stated that wizarding wands could be broken in all sorts of ways and the way they were broken affected the magic that they could do. A wand broken by accident would work erratically, possibly even dangerously. (Harry grinned, remembering Ron's wand) It could even backfire on the user. A wand broken on purpose however, could still be used with relative safety. However, the first few spells should be done with great care.

Harry frowned anxiously and kept reading. The next sentences suddenly made his heart begin to beat faster.

"A wand snapped in half by someone with bad intentions can have potentially disastrous consequences for the user. Unless the greatest care is taken, the damaged wand can kill the wizard outright. If the spell does work, it can have a limited working life, reversing abruptly with no warning. Depending on the spell, it can even backfire, potentially putting the wizard's life in great danger."

Harry swallowed, re-reading the paragraph again and again. His wand hadn't killed him outright - but that didn't mean that the spell wouldn't have a half-life. Or that it wouldn't backfire.

Slowly, Harry reached up and touched the coral around his neck. It still felt warm...but now it didn't make him feel safe any more.

What was he going to do now?

* * * *

Harry spent most of the next day trying to absorb the massively complex rules of formal dining. He had never realised before that it was anything more than sitting down and eating the millions of courses that were provided. It turned out that there was a lot more to it than meet the eye when you were actually going to have a proper meal with guests at it.

"Just how many forks are there?" he demanded finally. "I swear they are multiplying every time I look away from this table!"

"It's really not that hard!" Draco growled back, looking massively irritated. Harry suspected it might be because he'd just picked up his dessert fork instead of his starter fork for about the twelfth time. Harry suspected that Draco was beginning to lose the small amount of patience that he actually had with Harry. Harry found it annoying. It wasn't like he was being bad at this on purpose.

"Maybe not for you," he flashed back. "You've grown up with more than one fork! I grew up lucky if anyone ever remembered I was there long enough to give me any food, let alone a fork to eat it with!"

Draco blinked at him, obviously surprised. Harry stared at him, startled at how angry and upset he was suddenly feeling.

"They didn't feed you?" Draco said, sounding confused.

"I'd have thought you remembered better than me," Harry responded, remembering just in time that he wasn't really supposed to remember the Dursleys (if only!)

"Oh...yeah," Draco said, obviously catching up. "Well...I mean, you never talk about them that much. I just know that you had to wear your cousin's cast-off clothes and that you didn't like them. You never really discussed much about your life."

Strangely enough, Harry could imagine this. He never really spoke about the Dursleys to Ron and Hermione. They knew that he'd had a pretty unpleasant time of it and that he was bullied there. But had he ever told them that he'd slept under the stairs? That he'd not really been fed properly? (apart from when Dudley had been on his useless diet). He couldn't remember. But he rather suspected that he hadn't.

Harry found the idea that it was possible that Draco knew something about him that his friends didn't know a very disturbing one.

Realising Draco was giving him a funny look, he grinned quickly and reached out to squeeze Draco's hand.

"Okay. Let's start again. So...that one is the salad fork?"

"No," Draco said, sounding long-suffering. "That one is the salad fork. That one is the main fork. And that one..."

Harry let himself zone out as Draco went through it all again.

It might be a very annoying way of passing the time. But it was an annoying way of passing the time which annoyed Draco too. And that was always worthwhile.

* * * *

The week passed frustratingly quickly for Harry. He wanted it to drag, wanted it to remain the week and not the day of the meal. But it went quickly. Draco taught him formal dining and how to bow correctly (Harry found this particularly irksome and he made sure to mess it up as much as possible)

They also spent a large amount of time playing with the ferrets. Draco did not like this but Harry cheerfully insisted and Draco could do nothing but agree. Harry was beginning to discover more about ferrets. Such as, they smelt awful.

"Why do they have to smell so bad?" Draco moaned after another long game with the ferrets which left them trying to scrub the smell off their hands.

"I don't know," Harry answered. "Maybe it's some sort of defence mechanism - no meat-eater could possibly want to ingest something that smelt that disgusting!"
And since that was all they could think of, that was the decision that remained.

In that week, Harry invented a game which he called Ferret Lottery. It involved getting a large box and cutting four round holes in it, then putting it on top of the chosen ferret and guessing which hole it would come out of. Draco played this game with much moaning and complaining, but Harry found it strangely addictive and found it a most enjoyable pass time. After he and Draco had had a long argument about whether Fate had come out of the West Hole or the East Hole (neither boy had been able to work out which way was west), Harry got himself some paint and painted dots over each hole to make it easier to guess which hole they would come out of. As a slight stab at Draco, he made sure that the dots were red, green, blue and yellow. It wasn't lost on Draco. Harry literally saw him flinch when he saw the dots Harry had put on.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked innocently.

"Nothing," Draco said quickly. "Nothing at all."

He played Ferret Lottery quite cheerfully but Harry could see him flinch slightly whenever he saw the different colours. It was something that he found most amusing.

But even the new found joys of Ferret Lottery could not distract Harry from the burning fear inside him as the Meal grew closer and closer. It drove nearly all other thoughts from his head, even the faint ideas of escape that he had churned over ever since he'd arrived at Malfoy Manor. A dinner with Voldemort. Harry didn't think that he could survive it. Surely it wasn't possible.

The fears grew and he began having odd nightmares which he woke up sweating from. There was always a running theme, he was heading down an eerie corridor, lit by faint, floating candles. There was a door at the end of the corridor that Harry knew he had to reach. But he was always being chased by something. So far it had always been too far away for him to work out what was chasing him. But he knew that sooner or later, he would see it and it would get him.

It was the night before the Meal and Harry hadn't wanted to go to bed. A part of his brain was telling him that if he stayed awake, the day would stay away longer. He finally forced himself to get into bed and then lay awake, trying not to let his eyes close. Once he did drop off, he instantly found himself walking slowly down the corridor. He didn't want to. He didn't want to go any further. But his legs were inexorably carrying him down the corridor.

And something was thumping along behind him.

Harry forced himself to turn his head and look behind him.

There was a giant, ornately carved fish fork hopping along behind him.

"Ahhhhhhhhh!"

Harry ran up the corridor as fast as his legs could carry him, horribly aware that the fork was leaping along behind him, fork-eyes fixed on his back, waiting to eat him, kill him...

He wrenched open the door in front of him.

Inside was a huge jumble of silvery forks. As the door opened, their prongs all turned to face him, quivering with anticipation and hatred.

Harry screamed again.

* * * *

Draco was curled up in his bed, trying to pretend to be asleep. It was not easy since his father was playing with his hair but Draco had perfected the art of lying quite still and pretending that he was lost in some sort of dream. He could even summon images up behind his eyelids.

"Draco?"

Draco would have said nothing only suddenly a wail split open the night air which made him jerk into a startled sitting position.

"What the - ?" Lucius blinked. "Oh, what is wrong with that wretched boy now?"

Draco remained in bed until his father had left the room, then scrambled up himself and pulled on a dressing gown. He padded down the hall after his parents and reached Harry's door in time to hear Harry wail "Forks! Forks!"

Narcissa had been reaching down to shake him awake but Draco saw her jerk back in shock like she'd been burned, leaving Harry to twist, still fast asleep.

"What?" Draco said. "What's the matter?"

His parents were exchanging looks over the bed. Lucius was looking worried, Narcissa even more so. Draco frowned with irritation, pushed past and shook Harry.

"Harry, wake up!"

Harry's eyes clicked open and he stared up at Draco for a long moment before pushing him away and sitting up slowly, reaching out for his glasses.

"Are you all right?" Draco asked, trying to sound extremely sincere since his parents were listening.

"I was dreaming," Harry said, rubbing his forehead absently. "I....bad dreams."

He looked around, suddenly seeming to realise that Draco's parents were there.

"I'm sorry," he said, sounding contrite. "Did...did I wake you all up?"

"What were you dreaming?" Narcissa asked and Draco flinched at the sharpness in her tone.
"Erm...nothing," Harry said. "It doesn't matter. It wasn't...didn't matter."
Draco knew instantly from his parents looks that they thought it mattered a good deal. He put an uncertain arm around Harry's shoulders and realised with surprise that Harry was trembling slightly. Obviously, the dreams had got to him quite badly - whatever they were about.

"Maybe you should talk about it," he said. "You were obviously frightened."

"I was not," Harry said, sounding defensive "It wasn't..."

He stopped and shook his head.

"You can all go back to bed if you like," he offered. "I'm fine."

"Fawkes," Narcissa said. "You were shouting Fawkes."

Harry flushed very red.

"I....look, it doesn't matter," he said. "It was just a dream!"
Narcissa and Lucius exchanged another look. Then Narcissa nodded slightly and reached down to pet Harry's hair lightly.

"Would you like us to leave you and Draco alone?"

"Um...I'd really just rather go back to sleep," Harry squeaked.

Narcissa smiled her sweet-as-honey-smile.

"Don't worry," she said. "We'll leave you alone to talk for a while and when you feel better, Draco will go to bed."

She gave Draco a look and Draco knew that he was expected to find out whatever Potter had been dreaming about and then go and report. He nodded his head slightly and Narcissa took Lucius's arm and they walked out, closing the door. Draco looked at Harry.

"I really am all right you know," he said, removing his glasses and beginning to polish them.

"You should just tell me," Draco said. "Maybe I could make you feel better?"

"I doubt it," Harry said, running his fingers through his hair, rumpling it even more. "Look, it was a really stupid dream and it's really embarrassing okay? So I'd rather just..."

"Forks..." Draco said. "Harry, were you dreaming about formal dining?"

Harry stared at him. Then he fell backwards, grabbed his pillow and pulled it over his head. Draco looked at him, then cracked up, frantically trying to smother hysterical giggles. Harry jerked up and threw the pillow at his head.

"Shut up! It's not funny!"

"Formal dining!" Draco spluttered. "Come on, what were you dreaming?"

"I was being chased down a really creepy corridor by a massive fish fork," Harry said grudgingly.

"A fish fork?"

Draco fell off the bed at this, aware that he was entering total hysteria and completely unable to stop laughing.

"And then I opened this door and there were all these other forks waiting there for me and they - Draco, are you going to stop laughing or do I have to beat you up?"

"Forks!" Draco gasped again. "Potter, you are completely and totally brain dead, you know that?"

Harry glowered silently at him, then pulled the pillow back over his head. Draco choked back another wave of laughter and stood up with difficulty, sitting on the edge of the bed again. He'd been laughing so hard that he couldn't support his weight and ended up lying there, still giggling slightly. Harry did not emerge from under the pillow.

"Are forks really your biggest worry?" Draco finally asked, slightly sneeringly.

"Oh you've got no idea about the worst of my problems," Harry muttered from under the pillow.

Draco blinked at him and frowned, puzzled. He wished he could see Potter's face.

"Well, I know you have amnesia..." he said, letting his voice trail off slightly. He didn't know that Potter had amnesia. He was beginning to strongly suspect that Potter didn't have amnesia, or at least, not completely. He knew things, things that he shouldn't know. And it was the way he behaved...

Draco shrugged his thoughts off and looked at Potter, waiting. Potter made no move to come out.

"Yeah," he said. "Amnesia."

There was a pause then, a rather final pause which told Draco quite firmly that nothing else was going to develop then. He imagined a fish fork and snorted with laughter again.

"Are you ever going to stop laughing?" Potter asked grumpily.

"Oh come on Harry!" Draco said. "You have got to admit that this is hysterically funny."

Harry emerged from the pillow, twisting his head sideways to glare at Draco.

"It is not funny."

"Yes it is!"

"No it isn't!"

"Is!"

"Isn't!"
Draco grinned at Harry, his grin widening when he saw that Harry was undeniably pouting. It was actually rather cute.

"It's not funny," Harry said, sounding rather like a sulky child.

Draco wasn't sure what made him do it. But somehow, he suddenly found himself kissing Harry and Harry was kissing him back.

The kiss lasted for a long while. Neither boy was sure who broke it off first. One minute their lips were still warmly connected, the next they were staring at each other in barely disguised shock. Harry moved first. He sat up and removed his glasses, placing them aside on the table with a click.
"Draco, I'm really sleepy," he said. "Can I just go back to bed now?"
"Sure," Draco said, standing up, shocked to find his legs shaking. He kissed Harry on the forehead quickly. "See you tomorrow."

"Yeah."

Draco slid out, closing the door behind him. He leaned against the wall for a moment, gasping in air.

He'd kissed Potter and it hadn't been a deliberate keeping-up-appearances kiss. That had been....he'd kissed Potter and enjoyed it.

What was wrong with him?

Still shaking, Draco set off towards Narcissa's room. He knew she would want him to report him, although what she would think about Potter's dream about forks, God only knew. He needed to see his mother. Her cool manner would calm him down, take away the jarring shock of having kissed Potter that way. Not a playing way but a warm, sort of wanting way.

He could hear his parents talking anxiously in the room. A sudden curiosity made him stop at the door and listen. Draco has long since discovered that listening at doors was the only way of learning anything in Malfoy Manor, so he often employed this tack.

"...what if he is remembering things Narcissa?"

His father, sounding cool as always.

"I don't know," Narcissa replied, her voice thoughtful. "We have no proof that he believes it to be anything but a nightmare...and yet there has been increasing evidence that he isn't...telling the entire truth when it comes to his memories."

"What has he told you?"

"Little. But when I told him of the party tomorrow, he was frightened. Even those walls behind his eyes couldn't hide that."

"It could just be nerves Narcissa. With the exception of a brief meal with our Lord and Wormtail, he hasn't seen anyone but us and the house-elves for three weeks."

"Lucius." Narcissa sounded gently chiding. "Don't you trust my awareness any more? It was more than that. I could tell."

"Of course I trust you darling," Lucius said. "It just has to be considered, that's all."
Draco hated it when his father called Narcissa "darling." It always sounded so wrong from his father's mouth. And he knew that his father didn't care about his mother. He'd been told that much a number of times when his father held him.

Shrugging the thoughts off, he leaned closer to the door to hear better.

"If Potter is lying," Narcissa was saying thoughtfully. "We ought to tell our Lord tomorrow. He can sort him out."

"In exactly what way?" Lucius said, his voice sounding sneery.

"In whatever way necessary of course," Narcissa said calmly.

Draco jerked slightly in shock at the implication. His foot bumped it, making a small thumping sound. In a second, the door had been wrenched open and Narcissa was staring at him, face white with fury. She grabbed him by the nape of his neck and wrenched him into the room, gesturing to make the door slam behind them.

"What are you doing?" she snarled. "How long have you been listening?"

"Not long!" Draco gasped out, trying to blink back tears of pain. "I just wanted to know what was going on - ow!"

His mother wrenched sharply on his hair and Draco gasped. In a moment, his father was beside him, gripping Narcissa's wrist.

"Narcissa, let him go at once!"
Narcissa turned and glared murderously at Lucius, who glared back. He rarely interfered with what his wife did but if it involved Draco, he always got involved.

"Let him go Narcissa," he said again.

Narcissa released Draco and he stumbled backwards, reaching up to touch his neck, blinking rapidly to hide any sign of distress. Lucius stepped up beside him and put an arm around his shoulders.

"Are you all right?"

Draco nodded and looked at his mother.

"He was dreaming about formal dining," he said, aware that he sounded like a sullen little kid and not caring. "He thought that he was being chased by a giant fish fork."

"A fork?"

His parents both said this incredulously at the same time. Draco remembered his utter hysteria when Potter had told him about the dream and felt his lips quirk up in a small grin.

"A fish fork," he repeated. "He's always had trouble with the forks."

The utterly astounded silence from his parents was almost as funny as hearing about Potter's dream. Draco had never realised that there was something that could completely and totally stun his parents into silence.

Narcissa broke the silence.

"Are you sure?" she asked.

Her voice was utterly icy and Draco found himself instinctively recoiling further into the safety of his father's arm. Narcissa was staring at him coldly and untrustingly.

"If you are lying Draco, I will find out. And you will be sorry."

"Why would I lie?" Draco demanded, thoroughly confused and more than a little frightened. "He told me he was dreaming about forks! Why would he lie to me?"

Narcissa gave a most unladylike snort. She stepped forwards and grabbed just under Draco's chin, ignoring Lucius's growl of protest. Her long nails pinched the soft spots in Draco's throat and he swallowed.

"I think that you are forgetting that this is a ruse Draco," she hissed, her face very close to his. "Harry Potter almost certainly does not completely trust you. He currently has amnesia. Anything that makes him doubt what you have told him is a serious, serious problem. You have to remember this Draco. Because if you mess this up, I will not be the only person who hurts you. You will have to deal with the anger of our Lord as well. And I can assure you that the punishments that you have experienced from me would be nothing to what he can do to you."

Draco nodded his head. There was nothing else he could do. Narcissa's face lit up in a smile and she let him go.

"Now. Go to bed."

Draco turned and fled. A moment later, his father was beside him.

"Are you all right?"

Draco nodded, wanting that to be enough. It obviously wasn't. Lucius touched the red marks on his throat, then ducked his head to anxiously kiss Draco's mouth, then his throat.

"I'm sorry," he whispered into the side of Draco's neck. "I know you hate it when your mother is like that. She just worries."

Draco wanted to scream. But as always, his lips felt glued together and all he could do was close his eyes as Lucius held him tightly, kissing the marks on his neck as though he was trying to lick them away.

One solitary tear ran down Draco's face, soaking quickly away into his dressing gown as if it had never been there.

* * * *

"Harry, come out of the bathroom!"
Harry glared at the door, then turned back towards the mirror. His pale reflection stared back, green eyes wide. He was wearing high collared black dress robes with poisonous green embroidery around the cuffs and collar, weaving like tiny snakes. Narcissa had changed the frames of his glasses to the same shade of green, much to Harry's horror. His normally untidy hair had been slicked back like Draco's, slicked with enough of Sleekeazy's Hair Potion to drown in. His scar was prominent on his forehead, very much on show.

He didn't look like Harry Potter at all. He looked all wrong. The scar was the only part of him that looked like Harry and Harry wished at that moment that he couldn't see it. Its visibility made him uncomfortable. He didn't like people staring at his scar at the best of times but in the middle of a dinner with the man who inflicted it on him present...

"HARRY! Come OUT of the BATHROOM!"
The day had been a horrible one. Harry had woken up with butterflies in his stomach and hadn't eaten anything all day because the idea of food made him feel sick. He and Draco had been ordered out of the house by Narcissa so the house-elves could clean it, and had spent the day playing Ferret Lottery, getting more and more anxious with every single passing moment. They'd eventually been called in to have their robes sorted out. First however, Narcissa had forced Harry to drink a revolting pinky grey potion of some kind that looked like someone had already drunk it then regurgitated it, and tasted worse. Narcissa had calmly told the violently protesting Harry that it would stop Harry getting any headaches during the meal. It seemed to have done that by numbing his forehead completely. Harry was currently experiencing the strange sensation of being totally unable to feel his hair line. It was very uncomfortable and he couldn't stop reaching up to try and find it again.

After that, he'd gone upstairs to dress, only to find Hoppy the house-elf waiting. Apparently, Hoppy had been sent up to dress Harry. Harry had insisted that he wouldn't need help dressing but it turned out that dressing for the formal dinner was about as complicated as using the utensils to eat it. He'd been forced to have a bath, wash his hair thoroughly (to his humiliation, Hoppy had insisted on helping him wash and no matter what Harry had said, he'd stayed), be perfumed with something that smelt rather a lot like lemons to Harry and then actually dress in the dress robes. And then gel his hair.

Not only did Harry feel a right prat, the butterflies in his stomach seemed to have been transfigured into birds. He was sure that he was going to be sick.

There was no way on earth that he was going to sit through this dinner. No way. He would rather die. He would rather throw himself out of the bathroom window right now.

"Harry Potter, if you don't open this blasted door this instant, I am going to murder you!"

Draco was fast losing the little amount of composure that he'd managed to maintain throughout the day.

Swallowing, Harry reached up to touch his forehead again, then touched the piece of coral around his throat. Despite his discovery about his wand being unreliable, the coral was the only thing that made him feel safe. At least he was still wearing it.

"HARRY! Do I have to get my Father or will you open the door yourself?"

Slowly, Harry unlocked the door and peered out of it. Draco stood there, hands on his hips, glaring at Harry with murderous grey eyes. He was wearing dress robes of about the same quality of Harry's, also black with the same vivid green embroidery. He however, still looked like Draco Malfoy. He raised an eyebrow when he saw Harry and Harry blushed when he realised he was getting an impressed look.

"You scrub up well," Draco said. "You should make more of an effort on normal days. Come on, Mother expects us to stand downstairs and look good when the guests arrive. We only have a few minutes."
"Draco," Harry said. "Go through the forks again."
Draco gave a peculiar sounding high-pitched scream.

"I have been through the forks with you a hundred times, about six of which times have been today! Will you shut up about the fucking forks?!"
"Just one more time?" Harry pleaded as they left the room.

"If you haven't got it now, you will never get it. Just...relax for God's sake!"

Harry tried to imagine relaxing. He was going eat dinner with Voldemort and a bunch of Death Eaters. At that moment, he didn't think that he was ever going to relax again.

"Draco," he said hopefully as they approached the stairs. "Maybe I could just not go. I mean, I don't actually feel very well so it wouldn't be a lie if you said I was feeling sick..."

Draco grabbed his arm and held it very tightly.

"Harry," he said, through gritted teeth. "I'll be honest with you. If it were up to me, I wouldn't present you to a tableful of monkeys with concentration problems. However, it's not up to me. It's up to Mother and our Lord. And our Lord has specifically requested your appearance at this dinner."

He shrugged.

"Besides. I've been to them before and they are mostly boring as hell so I would appreciate you being there to be bored with me."

"Thanks Draco," Harry said as they walked down the stairs. "I knew I could count on your support."

"You're welcome."

Narcissa and Lucius were waiting at the bottom of the steps. Narcissa was looking glorious in robes of silver which were very tight at the top and then turned into spectacular sweeping skirts. Harry found himself gaping and very quickly turned his face to Lucius, by far preferring to look at a man he didn't like than stare at a woman he didn't like who made him horny. Lucius's robes were also silver, which Harry privately decided made him look like a sissy, although it did suit his hair and eyes. Draco pulled him to stand a little way from them and Harry obeyed, trying not to stare at his feet, which felt most uncomfortable in tight buckled shoes.

"I feel stupid," he muttered to Draco.

"Don't worry about it," Draco said. "Everyone looks like this."

"Oh excellent," Harry said sarcastically. "That makes me feel so much better."

Draco gave him an irritated look and Harry tried not fidget. His stomach was squirming with terror again. What if he made a complete and total fool of himself? He could easily see it happening. All he would need to do was fall over. Or be very ill. Or breathe wrong. Or pick up the wrong fork.

Harry was beginning to suspect that he was going to develop a life-long aversion to forks.

It actually came as something of a relief when people began to arrive. At least it ended Harry's terrified thoughts and gave him something else to consider. Such as how to try and smile and pretend to be glad to see people while actually identifying them and rather wishing they would all drop dead and leave him alone. They didn't say anything much to him, just nodded politely at him, eyes quickly raking his scar.

Voldemort and Wormtail arrived last. Harry secretly suspected that this was to make an entrance. Everyone bowed when he entered and Harry quickly did the same thing, although slightly late.

To his irritation, his scar promptly began to itch.

Lucius and Narcissa straightened up first and gestured in a grand way down to the room. Harry looked at Draco and Draco make him a very small smile, then gripped his hand. He then grimaced; Harry's hand was terribly sweaty.

Harry stared at the floor as they walked to the dining room. It was a completely new dining room which Harry hadn't seen before, despite many wanderings around the Manor. It was utterly giant with ten huge, smooth wooden pillars holding up the ceiling that practically seemed to vanish in clouds. Harry wanted to tip his head right back to look but decided that it wouldn't look dignified. There was a huge table made of smooth red-gold wood and white and gold porcelain. It was covered with a white silk tablecloth with tiny pink roses embroidered on it. Every seat was immaculately set with little table cards to show where everyone should sit.

Harry had never been more relieved in his life to find that he was sitting next to Draco Malfoy.

To his utter horror, on his other side was Wormtail.

He was about two seats from Voldemort.

Harry was about to sit down but Draco grabbed him.

"Not until our Lord," he whispered.

Harry tried to look as though he'd known that and watched until Voldemort had sat at the head of the table, then sat down himself, trying to look graceful and having horrible images of pulling the entire tablecloth down with him. All the other Death Eaters were sitting around and a low hum of conversation began. Harry looked down at the forks, spoons and knives spread out in front of him, each made of glimmering silver with smooth white handles. Harry stared at them blankly, desperately trying to remember what they were all for. And where had that spoon come from? Surely there wasn't supposed to be a spoon on the end of the forks?

"Draco," he hissed out of the corner of his mouth. "What's the spoon for?"

"The soup you prat!" Draco hissed back.

Harry tried to look as though he'd already known that. He wondered if his face was red. He felt horribly hot, with the exception of his forehead, which was just numb and itchy. The birds in his stomach seemed to have grown into eagle owls that were literally gnawing away. He shuddered slightly and glanced up and down the table, trying to look like he belonged. He didn't think that he did at all.

Of course, he was the Boy Who Lived and these were a bunch of Death Eaters, which might explain it.

They didn't seem to be behaving like it though. On the contrary, from the conversations that they were having, they sounded rather a lot like Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia and their various and boring dinner parties. Harry couldn't help feeling rather let down by this. The one perk of eating with Death Eaters should have been interesting conversations!

The first course was some sort of hor d'oerves. Harry had no idea what they were (Narcissa had said but he hadn't been listening) but they tasted foul. Harry had very nearly spat it straight out again but only the thought of Draco's face stopped him and he manfully swallowed it, immensely proud when he didn't throw it straight back up again. No one else seemed to think it was gross, but then maybe they were just better at hiding it than Harry was. He glanced at Draco and noticed that Draco had only take about one of the things. He met Harry's eyes and gave him a tiny wink.

Obviously Draco didn't like them either.

The soup came and went and the knots in Harry's stomach were beginning to loosen very slightly. This wasn't so bad. Okay, he hadn't said a single word throughout the dinner and his forehead felt like a thousand insects were crawling all over it and he didn't dare scratch it...but apart from that, it was really going rather well. Everyone was ignoring him, even Draco (who had struck up a conversation with the person next to him who Harry had never seen before in his life) and Harry rather liked it that way. If he could just survive the dinner, he could really concentrate on getting out of this place. He'd let himself get distracted. He'd been here a stupid amount of time now - school was starting in less than a week for God's sake! He had to escape from Malfoy Manor soon.

He knew that he could think of the answer if he concentrated. It was probably something really simple, something that he hadn't yet thought of and yet should have done. Most ideas were like that really. He just had to dredge it out of his stupid, slow brain.

What was it Hermione had said once? Some of the great wizards not having an ounce of logic. She'd often said that they should think about problems logically....to Harry, logic just seemed to be taking an idea and following it along to its different conclusions. Perhaps he should try that?

Let's see....flying is no good, I've no idea where I am and could end up going in completely the wrong direction to get anywhere. And the Malfoys would probably catch me again anyway. Floo powder would work - if I could just get to Diagon Alley, I'm sure people there would help me, even if they just let me get an owl to Ron. But I'd have to get to the Floo Powder room first and finding my way around this stupid place is completely impossible.

Getting a message out would also work....assuming the Malfoys didn't kill me instantly when the Ministry wizards came up the very long garden path. Which let's face it, they probably would.

Draco gave him a sharp nudge and Harry jolted out of his reprieve to realise that he was being offered the next course - fish. Harry was not a particularly big fan of fish but he suspected refusing would be impolite and he muttered thanks, absently used his knife and fork to carefully help himself, then salted it, still thinking.

The best plan really is to try and get to Diagon Alley somehow. The Malfoys can't do anything to me in a crowd of wizards. So that means Floo Powder. But how to get it?

As Harry tried to logically think how to get Floo Powder, he reached for his fork, then frowned. That wasn't the fish fork, that was his salad fork. Where was his fish fork?

The answer came to him in a blindingly horrible moment of insight. He'd used his fork to help himself to the fish. And because he'd been thinking so hard, he hadn't picked it up his fork again!

His fish fork was currently down at the other end of the table. And as Harry miserably watched, the house-elves (who were sliding in and out of the room like tiny ghosts) took the now empty platter from the room - along with his fork.

Harry thought he was going to be sick. He stared helplessly around, as though expecting one of the fish forks from his dream to magically appear. Naturally, they didn't, which was actually pretty lucky as they'd been about seven foot tall!

"Draco!" he practically breathed out of the corner of his mouth. "Draco, I've lost my fork!"
"You've what?" Draco hissed back, eyes flashing round the table and then back to Harry.

"I've lost it! I used it to serve myself with and now the house-elves have taken it!"
"Harry, you - "

Draco looked like he was about to say something really inappropriate but perhaps he caught Narcissa's eye, at any rate, he cut himself off and settled for giving Harry an outraged stare, as though it was all Harry's fault.

"What do I do?" Harry whispered, realising that Draco wasn't saying anything.

"I don't know do I?" Draco growled. "You'll have to ask for another one."
"No!"

Harry kept it at a whisper but the force in it made Draco recoil a little. Harry couldn't imagine an idea more repulsive than asking politely to a tableful of Death Eaters whether he could have his fork back. It was one of the most hideous ideas that he had ever been forced to entertain.

"I'll just have to use the wrong fork," he whispered.

"You can't!" Draco squeaked, looking horrified. "You can't do that!"

"I have to!" Harry replied. "What else can I do? I can lick it clean, it will be fine."
Draco said nothing. There was obviously nothing else that he could say. He looked at his plate and Harry suspected that he was trying to pretend that he didn't know who Harry was. Harry picked up his salad fork, horribly aware that his cheeks were turning very pink. As he ate the fish (which was actually rather nice), he couldn't help looking around at the eating Death Eaters.

Are they staring at me? They are, aren't they? They're all staring at me thinking "He's using the wrong fork! He's using the wrong fork!" There see, him - that man by Lucius. He's staring at me! He's staring at me right now!

Harry was vaguely aware that he was being extremely paranoid but he couldn't help it. His hands were beginning to tremble and he gripped his eating utensils tighter, noticing that his hands were getting sweaty. He wished that the handles weren't made of such smooth white stuff.

He swallowed again and swallowed slightly too quickly. He had a mouthful of fish which he hadn't finished chewing. That went down all right but the bone that he hadn't realised was there got stuck and Harry gagged, desperately wanting to cough and not daring. He gulped painfully and grabbed his goblet of water, gulping at it feverishly. Did he dare cough? They were all talking busily, they probably wouldn't look...

The tiny bone was scratching at his throat and Harry gagged again. He pressed his hands over his mouth to muffle it and coughed hard, spitting the bone into his hands. He glanced around, face totally crimson but no one seemed to be looking. He carefully placed the bone on his plate and gulped some more water from his goblet. It didn't really help and he found it difficult to choke down the rest of the fish.

Could anything else really go wrong?

He should really have known better than to think that.

He had placed his knife and fork on his plate and made sure that they were perfectly lined up and neat. As he sat there, staring at his second goblet, full of white wine and wondering if he should drink any. He'd only tasted white wine once or twice but he'd always rather liked it, better than red wine and he wanted to have some more. But he definitely didn't want to get drunk, it couldn't do anything but make the evening miles worse. But surely one glass...

He suddenly realised two things. He'd been given a plate of really, really disgusting looking salad.

And the house-elves had taken his plate along with his salad fork.

Harry was forced to choke back a scream of rage.

Draco glanced at him and saw the look on his face.

"Har-ry!" he hiss-growled. "You total and utter - "

He once again choked off whatever he really wanted to say but Harry felt a sharp pain going through his hand and knew that Draco had just reached under the table and pinched him viciously. Harry rubbed his hand under the table and looked at the salad.

Ew.

He looked mournfully at his main course fork. Then he glanced over at Wormtail.

Wormtail had not yet started his salad. And his salad fork was sitting completely untouched at Harry's side.

Harry looked at it. Then he glanced quickly around at the table. Then he picked it up and very quickly started eating with it. Draco glanced up and his mouth dropped open.

"Where'd you get the fork?" he muttered.

Harry let his gaze go over to Wormtail briefly before returning to his plate. Draco however, got the message.

"Harry! You didn't!"

Harry said nothing but kept eating calmly. Draco looked highly amused and went back to his own salad.

Wormtail looked very surprised when he couldn't find his fork. He obviously came to the conclusion that there had never been one because he didn't look at Harry at all. He simply muttered a spell under the table and a moment later, he had another fork there. Harry tried not to scowl and wished that he could do that.

This got him worrying about the adverse affects of any magical spells he could do again. He'd only tried to do one spell using his wand - the protection spell on his necklace. Instinct made him reach up and discreetly check it was still against his skin. It was, but it made Harry feel little better. A protection spell with a half life or tendency to backfire was little better than no protection spell at all. What was he to do if he couldn't actually trust it?

He was never more glad when the salad course was over and the main course came out. It was some sort of rather wonderful meat that tasted lovely. Harry had no idea what it was - one thing he had learned from Malfoy Manor was that generally speaking, you did not want to know. So he just enthusiastically ate, sipping at the wine in his goblet (which, to his disappointment, was now red).

He wondered how long he'd been sitting there. He felt like they'd been there for ever and ever. And if he remembered what Draco had told him, there was always a pause between the main course and the dessert. Which wasn't what he really wanted.

While waiting for the next course, he listened idly to the different conversations. They were all pretty boring. He could hear Narcissa and a group of people talking about the cutlery for crying out loud. Surely cutlery was scraping the bottom of the barrel when it came to a conversation?

"...certainly much nicer to have in the hand that the last ones," a woman was saying, holding one of her forks up. "Excellent quality. What are they made of Narcissa?"

Narcissa smiled one of her charming yet icy smiles.

"We had them specially made," she said. "The silver is your average type but the handles are the speciality. Do you remember our last Hunt?"

There was a quick chorus of agreement from around her.
"That girl!"
"She put up a good fight, didn't see? Best I've seen a Muggle do for ages!"

"She nearly put my eye out with that stick of hers! Little beast!"

"Yes," Narcissa agreed. "A good choice for excitement. But anyway. Afterwards, I had Lucius collect her body. We had her bones removed, cut up and polished. The handles are made from her bones."

Harry felt his stomach violently buck and his hand jerked. He'd been reaching out for his glass of wine and it went straight over with a clang, the red wine staining the cloth like blood. He could feel himself turning equally as red as everyone turned to stare at him. He heard Draco make a sound beside him which sounded rather like a well-muffled howl of rage.

"Harry!" Narcissa said, sounding reproachful as she waved her wand. The stain vanished but Harry was sure that the tablecloth was still sort of pinky where it had split.

"Sorry," Harry muttered, wondering if anyone had ever died of embarrassment before.

"No harm done," Narcissa said. Her eyes told a different story though and Harry suspected that if Draco didn't kill him, Narcissa would effectively deal with the remains.

"Looks like the boy has drunk enough!" someone shouted and Harry could feel his face burning even more fiercely as everyone laughed and went back to their conversations.

He personally thought that they should be grateful that all he'd done was spill his wine. They should be glad that he hadn't thrown up.

The Hunts that Draco had mentioned up in the Spy Tower. That was what they were. The Death Eaters collected Muggles, random Muggles and hunted them. Hunted them, tortured them and killed them. And then....

Harry stared with revulsion at his knives and forks. Those were made of human bones. Human bones. How could anyone in the world be so sick and twisted as to make knives and forks out of human bones? It was the most depraved thing that he had ever heard.

Coupled together, the two thoughts were enough to make his stomach roll again. He clenched his fists in his lap and breathed deeply through his mouth. He would not throw up in front of the Death Eaters, he would not.

"What is wrong with you?" Draco growled in his ear.

"I just heard your mother talk about dissecting someone!" Harry hissed back. "I've been using knives of bone and you don't expect me to be upset? It's disgusting."

"Why?" Draco asked, sounding genuinely stunned. "It's just bones. That's all ivory is you know. Bone."
"Ivory is made of elephant bones!" Harry spat quietly back. "Elephant or rhino! This is different! It's human bones!"

"How? There's no limit on what's called ivory," Draco said, sounding reasonable. "It's ivory Potter. Human or not, it's just bones. Deal with it."

He turned away. Harry gave the back of his head a disbelieving glare and then went back to gaping at his cutlery. This was beyond belief. This entire thing was just beyond belief. How could the Malfoys make knives and forks out of human bone and then act as though it was just ivory?

Not thinking about what he was doing, he reached up and gave his scar a good scratch. The itch was digging into his forehead like a burrowing creature and it was driving him completely crazy. He realised Voldemort was looking at him and quickly tried to make it look like he was just checking his hair was still slicked back. Then he put his hands on the back of his neck, trying to push the tension out of it. This couldn't go on much longer surely? It felt like they had been in this place for hours and hours.

There was a sudden swish of robes; Voldemort had got to his feet. Everyone went silent, staring at him with puzzlement. Voldemort leaned across the table and grabbed Harry by a handful of his robes, wrenching him to his feet. Shocked, Harry tried to struggle back but Voldemort's grip was tight. With his other hand, he delved into Harry's robes, hand snapping out holding tightly to the piece of coral Harry wore round his throat.

The silence was horrible. Harry tried to stare into the red eyes but he couldn't and dropped his gaze down to the coral instead. Voldemort must have seen the chair when Harry had put his hands on his shoulders. Harry cursed himself for a fool. The Malfoys had always missed it but Voldemort was sharper eyed and more interested in Harry than the Malfoys were. How could he have been so careless?

"Where did you get this?" Voldemort whispered, squeezing the pink-red coral tighter in his hand.

Harry swallowed, aware of how dry his mouth was and that he was sweating. What could he say? What could he do? He couldn't tell the truth, it would be suicide. He could feel all eyes fixed on him and was horribly aware that he was shaking.

"Well? Speak, boy!"

Harry gulped and didn't answer. He couldn't think of anything that he could possibly say. He could say that he found it but the Malfoys would know that it was like nothing they owned. He could say that he made it but how would he explain stealing the Malfoys' coral and making something behind their back? And Voldemort would know that there was spell on it.

"Narcissa," Voldemort said softly. "Since the boy seems to have lost his tongue, perhaps you will answer. What is this? I can tell that it is magical."

"I don't know my Lord," Narcissa replied softly. "I have never seen that before. Draco? Did you give it to him?"

"No," Draco said, his voice trembling. "I...I haven't seen it before. I don't know what it is."

"I think it's a protection charm of some sort," one of the other Death Eaters volunteered. "That is what coral is generally used for. Protection against magic."

Voldemort looked back to Harry, his eyes gleaming cruelly.

"Will you answer the question boy?" he hissed. "What is this necklace for?"

Harry gritted his teeth and stared at Voldemort defiantly. What more could he do? There was nothing he could say to excuse it without incriminating himself and Squeak. So he would just say nothing and risk the results.

Not that he didn't have a pretty good idea of what the results were going to be.

If only he had a proper wand!

Voldemort suddenly threw him backwards. Harry slammed to the ground, cracking his head against the smooth polished wood floor. He blinked, stars hovering before his vision, the back of his neck hurting badly where the thin chain holding the coral there had snapped. Before the stars had faded, he had already raised his head, staring at Voldemort defiantly. He might be going to die alone and powerless but he wasn't going to die looking like a coward.

"Crucio!"

Harry screamed as the pain shot through his bones and body, tearing him apart from the insides. He'd felt this before but he had forgotten how terrible it was, how much it felt like people thrusting branding irons into his skin and then ripping them out, doing it over and over...

Then it stopped and he tried to struggle into an upright position, whimpering slightly from aching muscles. Voldemort stared down at him with pitiless red eyes, holding up the piece of coral on its broken chain.

"Where did it come from Potter?" he asked. "Speak!"

Harry gritted his teeth and glared at Voldemort with hate. He knew that there was an unspoken dare in his eyes; Make me. He also knew that Voldemort would certainly take him up on the offer. He wondered how many times he could take the Cruciatus Curse before cracking. Or before dying. He wondered which would come first.

It looked like he was about to find out. Voldemort raised his wand whispered "Crucio." again and Harry howled as his muscles spasmed with harsh and horrible pain. His insides felt like they were liquefying, melting, he thought his heart and head would explode....

When the pain stopped, he was too weak to move. There was a horrible taste in his mouth and he realised that sometime during the seemingly endless pain, he'd thrown up and was lying in a pool of his own vomit. Strangely, he found himself feeling sorry that he'd wasted the good meal that he'd had. All that effort eating the stuff...

"Look at me Potter!"

Voldemort's voice cracked out like a whip and Harry obeyed, forcing his heavy head up to stare into Voldemort's icy red eyes. He could feel something trickling down his face. Blood. The blood vessels in his nose had broken.

"Where. Did. You. Get. This?" Voldemort asked, accenting every word.

Harry said nothing. He wasn't sure that he would be able to speak anyway. His throat felt so dry that he might as well have not drunk anything for a week. The only liquid on his lips was his own salty blood.

He felt the floor vibrate beneath his body and realised someone had stood up. It was Narcissa. She walked up to Voldemort and began whispering softly in his ear. Harry wondered how she dared and then realised that he didn't care. He focused on carefully trying to lever himself to a sitting position. His arms trembled when he tried to put weight on them and he was scared that if he sat up, he would be sick again. But he did, slowly and carefully sitting up, spitting out some of the blood that was in his mouth, along with the bile still there. His stomach rolled when he sat up and he gagged, trying not to throw up again. He was already a mess. He found himself feeling sorry for Hoppy, who'd tried to make him look so good for this party...

Narcissa stepped away from Voldemort who was smirking slightly.

"Very well Mr Potter," he said quietly. "Remain silent if you wish. But you will be very, very sorry if you do. This is your last chance."

Harry said nothing, choosing instead to wipe some of the blood from his face and brush it aside. Voldemort nodded, as though he'd expected nothing less. Then he reached down and wrenched Draco to his feet. Before the shocked blond could do anything, Voldemort had violently flung him to the floor beside Harry. Harry caught a glimpse of Draco's large grey eyes, wide with terror and then heard Voldemort once again whisper "Crucio."

Draco doubled up, screaming wildly as the pain like knives shot through his body. Harry slid away from the thrashing limbs, trembling with horror. He now knew what Narcissa had suggested to Voldemort.

The fact that he wouldn't speak up about his necklace did not mean that he had recovered his memory. It just meant that he was frightened to reveal where he had got it. Narcissa knew that he probably wouldn't reveal it under torture, particularly if it incriminated someone else. But if he was in love with Draco - or pretending to be in love with Draco - he would have to tell Voldemort, rather than watch Draco be tortured. Anyone in love with someone would do that and Harry knew that he would. If it had been Ron or Hermione on the floor there, he knew he'd have given up the information in a heartbeat.

And if Harry didn't reveal the information...

Voldemort ended the curse and Draco lay on the ground, sobbing weakly, pressing his hands over his face. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Lucius try to move forwards to his son and saw Narcissa catch his arm and hold onto him tightly, stopping him interfering. Lucius turned his gaze onto Harry and Harry could see a mixture of vicious anger and pain there. He remembered Lucius's words; If you hurt my son, I will personally see that you die a horrible, horrible death.

"Well Mr Potter?" Voldemort said softly. "Will you answer my question now?"

Harry swallowed, looking from Voldemort to Lucius and then to Draco. Voldemort once again whispered the curse, giving Draco another quick burst of pain. Harry could feel tears welling up in his eyes as Draco shrieked wildly. When Voldemort stopped, Harry could hear Draco babbling under his breath, begging for someone, anyone to help him.

"Well Mr Potter?" Voldemort said again.

"Answer my question or you will see you lover beg for death before he dies."

And Harry knew from the look of utter horror on Lucius's face that Voldemort was not making an idle threat.

End of Part 5.