By Your Side

By Your Side

-----*-----

Draco sighed, inwardly groaning, turning his head from the scene in front of him. The Hogwarts train was now empty and almost everyone was gone. Everyone except Potter and the Weasel family. It looked like no one was coming for Potter, seeing as how Mrs. Weasley was getting pissed off.

No one's coming for me either. Draco thought, kicking a rock angrily, starting to push his cart away from the red headed family. It wasn't like he was in a rush to get home. Seeing how the Weasley's treated Potter as if he were part of their family was just too much.

"Draco?"

Draco spun around and faced the man who made him stop.

"Do you need -"

"No, sir, " Draco cut him off. "Father should be here shortly."

"We'll stay if you want. Harry's uncle isn't here yet, either," Mr. Weasley said, nodding to Harry, who was hugging Mrs. Weasley lovingly. Draco forced his eyes from the scene, shaking his head.

"I'll be fine," Draco snapped, starting to push his cart again.

"We'll -"

"Sorry I'm late!" A suit came up, pushing Draco out of the way and grabbing hold of the cart. "Traffic in London is bloody hell. I left over an hour ago, " he turned to Mr. Weasley. "Thank you for watching out for young Malfoy. I'm sorry if he was a pain."

"Oh, no big deal, " Mr. Weasley forced a smile. "See you later, Draco."

The suit started to push the cart, and Draco trailed after him, walking at his own pace, staring hard at the ground. He wished the butler hadn't shown up. Deep down, all he wanted to do was stay at the platform and maybe go back to Hogwarts for the summer. Then again, being stuck at school all summer would suck. Nothing could suck, though, more than being stuck at his home, where he wasn't allowed to do anything.

Making sure Potter saw his sneer, Draco left the train station, stepping out in the bright parking lot of the train station in London. He sighed, hating muggle cars, but knowing it was the only way to get home. So he followed the butler to his car, a newly fashioned lightning silver colored Mercedes (or that's what it was, from what Draco had gathered) and waited as the suit put Draco's belongings in the trunk before unlocking the rest of the car. Draco slid into the front seat of the silver car, slamming the door shut, showing his frustration. The butler sighed and started the car and pulled out of the parking lot before speaking.

"Your father is out on his "business", so he won't be home for a few days."

"Great, " Draco said bitterly, crossing his arms over his chest and staring out the passenger window, watching the scenery with a look of distaste upon his features. "And I suppose mother's got some party?"

"Well, it isn't until later on tonight. And it isn't completely formal, so she'll have some time to spend with you, " The butler replied with a slight smile. "It's not all that bad. Her schedule's empty for the rest of the week, so when Lucius returns, you and your mother could be out in Diagon Alley or something."

Draco's face broke into a grin and he looked at his butler. "Really? No shitting me?"

"Really," The butler nodded, smiling more, glad that he made the young Malfoy happy. Draco turned to stare out the window, his mood lifted a bit as he thought about everything he and his mother could do and talk about. He could tell her all about his school year, and how he had made Potter's life miserable. Then he could tell her about how Potter had killed Cedric, and everything else in between.

They kept driving for another fourty five minutes in silence, Draco's mood lifting a bit as every minute passed. He decided he'd never been so happy to see his mother in all the years he'd been away from her. Usually she'd be in Scotland or Ireland for a party on the day he came home, and Lucius would be in his study, ready to punish Draco for his marks at school. But not today. He could magically change the marks on his report card, if his mother didn't approve of them, that is. Everything seemed to be looking brighter, and he completely forgot about Potter stuck at Kings Cross, waiting for his uncle to pick him up.

When they arrived at a house outside of London, the butler parked the car and said, "I'll apparate with your things a little later on. You don't need anything at the moment, do you?"

"Nope, " Draco jumped out of the car, striding across the lawn importantly toward the front door. He threw the front door opened and immediately walked to the already roaring fire, taking a pinch of Floo Powder from a jar, and throwing it into the fire. "Malfoy Manor!"

Draco landed in the living room of his home, and he looked around. His heart dropped slightly when he didn't see his mother. Instead, he saw one of his house elves, who immediately flinched away when they saw him.

"Where's mother?" Draco snapped at the elf, approaching it swiftly.

"Mrs. Narcissa is getting ready, Mr. Draco Malfoy sir!" The elf bowed out of the way, hurrying out of her master's presence toward the kitchen. Draco scowled after the creature before starting up the stairs to his mother and father's room.

Inside the room, his mother was pulling a dress on(an awful looking lime green silk one. Draco never cared much for his mother's choice in colors), and an elf was tying up the back. The woman smiled a little at her son before barking, "That's too tight! Can't you do anything right?!"

"Teely is sorry, Mrs. Narcissa Malfoy ma'am. Teely is so sorry," The elf squeaked, loosening the ties before finishing it up.

"I don't like this one, " Narcissa rolled her eyes, then turned to her son. "Good afternoon, Draco. Did you have a nice trip?"

She bent over and kissed her son on the cheek before reaching back and untying her dress. Draco looked away as it fell to the floor, and his mother pulled on a black bath robe.

"It was all right, " Draco replied, deciding not to tell her about the mishap on the train when he'd been changed into... whatever it was. He smirked when he recalled the train hop finding the three Slytherin's. "How have you been, mother?"

"Fine, fine, " Narcissa waved him off before saying, "I'm so sorry, dear, but I can't talk right now. The party has been moved to Spain from Ireland, and I have to travel further than I expected. It's a huge formal ball. I was hoping to spend time with you."

Draco's spirits fell immensely, but he didn't show it. Instead, he started to cling to his last bit of hope. "Couldn't I come with you? I got good marks this year, and I've got a new dress robe."

"I'm sorry again, dear. This party is an invitation only, and they sent me only one. I have to keep my appearance up. Next time, Draco honey, " She said, leaning down and looking at herself in the mirror, brushing blonde hair out of her face. "Teely, what the hell are you doing? Are you going to help me or not?"

Deciding that she was starting to forget he wasn't there, Draco left the room dejectedly. He stared hard at the ground, determined not to show his hurt. Malfoy's never cried, never whined, never did much of anything but walk with an air of importance and dignity. Something of which Draco never felt around his parents.

He entered his room, which was painted a dark midnight blue, which fit his mood whenever he was home. Dark, like his life. Dark Magic this, dark feelings that. Everything had to be dark when you were a Malfoy. Draco cursed his name and fell onto his bed, burrying his head in his pillow, and allowed a single tear to fall before he forced himself to sleep.

-----*-----

Harry watched Malfoy and the suit walk off and glared after him. The way Malfoy walked was pissing him off. He walked like he was someone important. Like he was royalty of some kind. Harry rolled his eyes. Malfoy, someone important? He was more of a pain in the arse than anything. Harry shook his head, turning his attention to Mr. Weasley, who was also staring after Malfoy and the suit, almost jealously, it looked like. Then, he turned his attention to his family, the look gone, replaced with a smile.

"There you are, boy!" Uncle Vernon caused Harry to jump and spin around, and he realized that was who Mr. Weasley was smiling at. Uncle Vernon grabbed Harry's arm roughly. "I've been waiting outside in the car for the past half an hour!"

"I'm sorry, " Harry said, screwing up his face in pain, pulling his arm away. "You never told me to meet you there, anyway."

Uncle Vernon glared but said nothing, starting to push the cart away from the Weasley family. Mrs. Weasley started to say something, but Harry looked at her pleadingly, and she closed her mouth, nodding.

"Bye," Harry said miserably, waving to Ron and everyone else in the family, following Uncle Vernon outside. When they were away from the prying eyes of the Weasley's, Vernon shoved Harry to the cart.

"You push it, " Vernon said coldly, pulling out his car keys and walking to a (yet another) new car that Harry hadn't seen before now. He sighed, waiting for his uncle to start lecturing him on what not to do in the car, but it never came. Instead, he just opened the trunk and helped Harry put his stuff away. "There's a man at home waiting for you. He said he was a professor of yours a few years back."

"You let him in?" Harry asked, surprised. Uncle Vernon would never let anyone that knew Harry into the house, much less a wizard.

"Of course I did, " Vernon made a face, getting into the driver's side of the car. "I was afraid that freak would blow up our house! Especially since we just had it redone."

Harry started to grin. "Who is it?"

"I don't know, I didn't ask," Vernon replied, starting the car. Harry felt a bit of panic rise up, and he thought it was Voldemort in his house. He decided, though, that the house was protected and Voldemort wouldn't be able to get near Privet Drive.

They sat in silence until they pulled into the driveway of 4 Privet Drive. Harry inwardly groaned, but broke out into a grin when he saw a man on the porch. He got out of the car as Uncle Vernon opened the trunk, then went inside, pushing the wizard out of the way. Harry walked up to the man.

"What are you doing here?" Harry asked, smiling up at the man.

"Sirius wrote me a few days ago, " Remus Lupin said, his face holding no smile or grin or anything. He just looked... sad. "He told me about the tournament. Said that he wanted someone here to be looking after you. Didn't want Dumbledore to know, because knowing Albus, he'd say if someone was around a lot, it would cause suspicion."

"Oh, " Harry's brow furrowed, and his smile fell. "I can't believe you'd want to look after me after what happened with Cedric."

Lupin pulled Harry into a hug, saying, "That wasn't your fault. Sirius told me you'd do this. You-Know-Who has a crazy obsession, Harry, and he knew that would put a lot of guilt upon you. Cedric's death wasn't your fault."

Harry nodded, pulling away. "I better get my things before Uncle Vernon gets mad."

"I'll help."

"No, it's okay, " Harry licked his lips, looking around. "Where are you going to be staying?"

"Oh, at my house, " Lupin replied, walking to the back of the car with Harry and pulling out the trunk as Harry grabbed Hedwig's cage. "But once a week I'll be stopping by. I've already straightened it out with your aunt and uncle, though when I brought up James, they seemed a bit... ticked."

"They don't like mum and dad, " Harry said bitterly, walking into the house. "They think it was great that they had been killed."

Lupin sighed but said nothing. Harry unlocked the cupboard and held the door open for Lupin.

"You have to put the trunk in here. I'm not allowed to do homework over the summer, " Harry explained, and Lupin opened his mouth to say something, but Harry cut him off. "Just do it, professor. I know what I'm doing."

Lupin put the trunk in the cupboard, and Harry closed it, locking it up before carrying Hedwig's cage upstairs. His professor followed uncertainly, looking around, afraid Vernon was somewhere with a gun. Harry opened his bedroom door and put Hedwig's cage on his dresser before shutting the door behind Lupin.

"Welcome to my room, " Harry said dully, sitting down on his bed. "So tell me about the plan you straightened out with my aunt and uncle?"

"Every Sunday I'll come by and take you either to my house, where Sirius is staying, to Hogsmeade, Diagon Alley, whatever. Your uncle said that you have to have all of your chores from the week done, or else you can't go, " Lupin forced a small grin. "I think I intimidated them a bit."

Harry licked his lips and said, "How is Sirius doing?"

"He's doing fine," Lupin was about to say more, but Vernon burst into the room.

"You, boy, have chores to do, if you want to see him this Sunday."

"Okay, " Harry sighed and looked up at his old professor. "Tell Snuffles I said hi. I'll see you later, I guess."

Sadly, Harry trudged down the stairs to get his list of chores. He heard Lupin leave the house, but was becoming distracted with the scene outback. The Dursleys had put a pool in for Dudley for some reason, so his fat cousin was out there, splashing around with one of his friends. He tried to swim, barely keeping his head above the water, then sinking. Harry bit his lip, trying not to laugh, and he turned his back to the window to start his chores, determined to distract himself from Dudley attempting to swim.

-----*-----

"Yes, master. I have found a flaw in the charms around Privet Drive."

"Good, " Voldemort hissed, narrowing his eyes at his servant. "I want you to take him far, far away from here. Chain him up, or do something. Do not kill him, because I want to do that myself when the time comes."

"Yes, master," The rat bowed, hurrying out of the room to inform the other Death Eaters.

Voldemort's face twisted into a grin across his snakelike face, and he laced his fingers together, saying, "Yes, Mr. Potter, I hope you feel safe now, because soon you won't."

-----*-----

"Up."

Draco opened his eyes groggily, then shut them immediately as the light hurt his eyes.

"It's barely light in here, boy. Get up."

He tried to obey, but his eyes were too heavy to lift. He tried to move his arm, and pain shot through it. He opened his mouth and let out a moan as he moved the rest of his body, trying to obey his father's command to get up. Lucius grabbed his sore arm and forced up to a standing position, then let go of him. Draco opened his eyes again, his eyes burning from the light, but he kept them open, afraid he'd get in trouble again.

"Back to your room," Lucius hissed, turning and leaving the dungeon-like room. Contrary to what people thought, Malfoy Manor had no dungeons, nor a place to hide Voldemort. There was a single room, though, that Lucius had that he used to threaten Draco when needed. Most of the time, Draco was too afraid to make his father more angry, so the "torture chamber" wasn't used.

Draco forced his right leg to move, then his left, and he mechanically started to walk out of the room. All he could think about was the pain as it blurred his vision. Trying to take his mind off the pain, he thought back to the night before, attempting to remember the previous night. What exactly had happened, anyway. He couldn't really remember.

All he remembered was the door slamming open and he woke up from his nap startled. Lucius had grabbed him forcefully and shook him, obviously pissed off about something.

"What is it, father?" Draco had asked, agitated.

"Your marks from this school year!"

Draco winced as he raised his legs to get onto the first step of the long staircase. He let out a whimper, grabbing the rail, and taking another step up. Lucius had beaten him because of his grades? That didn't even sound like him, but he didn't dare ask what he had done wrong. Maybe he'd look through his room whenever he eventually got up there. It hurt so much to get up.

When he did get upstairs and to his bedroom, a good fifteen minutes had gone by. It only took five minutes all the other times he'd been down there. He must've done something pretty bad to piss Lucius off this much. He looked around the room, not seeing anything that would've made his father angry. His eyes landed on his trunk, and his brow furrowed in confusion as he took a few painful steps forward. He didn't dare look in the mirror just yet. Instead, he reached the trunk, slowly bent over, and dug through his belongings.

A piece of paper on the floor beside the trunk caught his eye, and he sucked in a breath, picking it up. It had fallen from his desk because his quill was on the floor, the bottle of ink turned over onto the black carpet.

So much black in here. Draco mused, but looked over the paper. He didn't remember writing it, but it was definitely his handwriting. It took him a minute to process the information, and he dropped the paper, jumping up to his feet. He cried out in agony, closing his eyes tightly, covering his mouth with his hand, muffling his cries. He bit the sleeve of his robe, screaming as the white-hot pain shot through his body. As soon as it started, though, it stopped, and he opened his eyes.

He looked back down at the piece of paper, then to his closed bedroom door, before bending over and picking it up again.

I don't usually write journal things like this, but I have to get my frustration out. Draco read it, remembering suddenly that he wrote it the night before. He cursed, wondering how he could've been so stupid. Father just came in and hit me across the face because he's mad about my marks. You know why? Because the lowest mark I got was an 87%! In DADA. He got so pissed at me for not passing all my classes with higher marks than what I got. He's just mad because I'm not smart like Granger, or a hero like Potter. Well, you know what father, fuck that. I studied every night and passed every test with a B. Just because Moody got mad when I tried to switch notes with Weasel doesn't mean that I had good intentions.

Ha. Good intentions. Whatever. Since you won't see this, father, I'm going to tell you how I feel about you. I think you're as obsessed with Potter as You-Know-Who is, and you'll try everything to get to him. Even if that means you have to go through me to do it. Why the hell do you beat me? Does it make you feel more powerful than me? What is it?

I hate yo-

Draco shuddered, dropping the letter. That's where he had stopped writing. Lucius had walked in at that moment.

"What are you doing?" He had asked, narrowing his eyes.

"Nothing," Draco lied, covering the paper up casually. "Homework."

"With your books in your trunk?" Lucius looked at the closed trunk, then up at his son furiously.

Draco looked up at the mirror and let out a gasp. A dark bruise was forming on his right eye. His left hand had a huge gash across the top, and that was all he could see. Carefully, he pulled his robe off to observe the rest of his injuries. Two of the ribs on his right side were blue and purple, and his torso had a cut across it, a bruise underneath the gash. His shoulders were badly bruised, along with his collar bone. His right knee was swollen and bruised, but other than that, there weren't any visible bruises. Quietly, he limped over to the closet and pulled it open, grabbing a silver robe. He pulled it on, then limped to his bed.

It was morning, he knew, but he was too tired to eat. He wasn't hungry anyway. Besides, he didn't care anymore if his father got angry if he wasn't at breakfast, or if his mother got concerned. He just..didn't care anymore.

-----*-----

Harry, on the other hand, woke up the next morning sneezing. He cleared his throat, coughed a few times, and rolled over in bed, closing his eyes again. His head ached horribly, and he moaned as he thought about getting sick immediately on his first day of summer vacation.

Vacation, Harry mused, the definition of vacation is a holiday. This isn't a holiday. Never was, never will be.

He heard Uncle Vernon downstairs, yelling for Harry to get up. Silently, Harry sat up, rubbing his pounding head, and started to walk toward the door. His pants (well, Dudley's) were sliding off his thin frame, and he held onto the waist of the sweat pants, opening his bedroom door. He trudged down the hall, then down the stairs, wondering how his friends were doing.

I bet Malfoy's having the time of his life, Harry thought, walking into the kitchen and ignoring his uncle as he told him to make breakfast, probably sitting at his breakfast table as his little house elves serve him hand and foot. Little bastard doesn't know what pain is.

He rubbed his nose on his sleeve, sniffing as the eggs in the frying pan started to cook. Ignoring Uncle Vernon, he went to the medicine cupboard and started to dig through it. After he pulled out some sinus medicine (People don't get sick in the summer, so it's probably just allergies Harry thought) and took it with a glass of water, he continued to make everyone's breakfast.

Dudley bounced down the stairs (literally), falling into a heap at the bottom. Harry tried to hide his smirk behind a carton of milk as Uncle Vernon jumped up to see what had happened. At the bottom of the stairs, Dudley was howling like a hurt wolf, and soon, his howls turned into painful screams. Harry once again had to hide his amused face, but it was too late.

"What did you do?" Uncle Vernon burst into the kitchen as Harry was putting the food onto plates. Harry looked up, biting the inside of his mouth trying not to laugh.

"Excuse me?" Harry asked and raised his hand to his mouth, coughing, then sneezing.

"What did you do to my son!?" Uncle Vernon pressed, grabbing Harry's arm roughly.

Uncle Vernon let go of Harry, his brow furrowed in confusion when Harry's eyes turned a dark green, and he opened his mouth, letting out a terrified scream. He backed out of the kitchen to go help his hurt son as Harry fell to the ground, burrying his head in his arms.

"Kill the spare."

Harry shut his eyes as the green light flashed, then something heavy fell onto the ground beside him. Cedric was lying spread-eagled on the ground beside him. He was dead.

Harry knew he was on the ground, and he knew he was at the Dursley's, and he could hear Uncle Vernon back in the kitchen, yelling at him to get up, threatening him. But at the same time, he felt like he was back in the graveyard, tied to Tom Riddle's grave. Everything that had happened that night was resurfacing, all the pain he felt both emotionally and physically, and all he wanted to do right now was die.

"Cedric.." Harry whimpered as he felt himself being lifted up, carried somewhere, then dropped into a cramped space. He opened his eyes to move, but found that he couldn't.

"You're going to stay in there, boy!"

Uncle Vernon sounded furious, and within the next minute, Dudley's screams faded as they left the house. Harry focussed his attention back to-which reality? Was he in the graveyard with Cedric lying dead a few feet away, or was he in the cupboard under the stairs?

Honestly, he didn't know.

-----*-----

"Sir, Remus Lupin has generously given us details into the exact whereabouts of Harry Potter."

"The werewolf?" Voldemort hissed, searching his mind, "James's friend?"

"Yes, sir," Wormtail replied quietly, bowing again. "He's locked up in Salazar's Vale."

"Good," Voldemort's mouth turned upward. "Very good. Tell me, Wormtail, exactly when to attack."

"Remus Lupin says every Sunday he is to pick Harry Potter up from 4 Privet Drive for a day of vacation."

"Sunday is too far away," Voldemort snapped, standing up and starting to pace the room. "I want him gone now."

"Yes, my Lord," Wormtail bowed and exited the room immediately.