Title: To the Moon Part 5
Author: Constant Vigilance
Status: FIN
Email: tirel@pcnuthut.com

Website: https://www.angelfire.com/tv2/firebird_ascending/
Rating: R for disturbing topics and language
Pairing: Harry/Draco (not while under the curse, however)
Spoilers: Some book 5 events. AU. Characters aged up to age of consent.
Warnings: Slash, implied rape/incest, violence, shmoopy WAFF in places
Disclaimer: I own nothing. JKR is God.
Summary: Draco is turned into a child. Harry takes care of him.
Notes: Written for Wave 1 of The Ebony and Ivory Fu-Q-fest found at http://mortal-moon.org/hdfqf/index.html

Challenges: 59.  Harry finds Draco crying.  (Minnie)

79.  Harry finds out what Draco sees when he's near a dementor. (Aeowen)

12.    Draco overhears a secret of Harry Potter...he likes a Slytherin.  (Minnie)

August 14:

Harry was well aware that Draco was capable of walking by himself. He simply didn’t care. He loved holding the small blonde and did it at every feasible opportunity. He was doing it again as the two of them and Vince and Greg walked down to Hogsmeade, preparing to floo to Diagon Alley for school supplies. As usual, when he held Draco, he tried to ignore the knot in the pit of his stomach that grew with each day, each day that came closer to the end of his time with the boy.

Snape promised that the potion would be ready before the beginning of the term. At best, Harry had two weeks, but he tried to push that thought to the back of his mind as the delighted giggles escaped his charge. “Are we really going to floo to Diagon Alley, Harry?” Draco’s eyes shone.

“Yes we are,” Harry smiled back.

“Mummy and Father never let me floo anywhere,” Draco added solemnly.

Harry shrugged. “Well, you are pretty young, poppet. The only reason you’re going through this time is because I’m going to be holding you.”

Draco made a face. “They wouldn’t even carry me. Mummy said it was undiginfiled.

Harry frowned for a moment. “Oh!” he chuckled. “Undignified.”

“That’s what I said,” Draco huffed.

“Of course, poppet,” Harry smirked, giving him a quick squeeze.

“Are you going to buy me stuff, Harry?” Draco wheedled. “Like presents?”

Vince snickered but when Harry turned to eye him, he had a most innocent expression on his face. “What?” he blinked.

“What my ar…err, bum,” Harry snorted, turning back to Draco. “Your Uncle Sev’rus is buying you your school things, but I suppose I could manage a treat or two,” he added in a whisper.

Greg rolled his eyes. “That boy is going to be completely spoiled.”

Draco smiled beatifically at the other Slytherin. “It’s okay, Greg,” he said angelically. “You can buy me something too so Harry doesn’t hog me.”

Greg sputtered while Harry and Vince cackled in hilarity. The remnants of amusement were still evident when they entered the Three Broomsticks to ask Madam Rosmerta for the use of her floo. Moments later, they stood outside the fireplace of the Leaky Cauldron brushing soot from their clothes.

“That was great!” Draco squealed, clapping his hands. “Can we do it again?”

Harry grinned and plucked the boy back up. “We’ll do it on the way home, poppet, okay? Right now, we have to get started shopping.” Draco sighed but wrapped his arms around Harry’s neck.

As they exited the building and entered Diagon Alley, Harry paused. “Um…” he looked shyly over at the two Slytherins. “I know you’re going to be pissed at me for asking, but I have to.”

Vince grinned and shook his head. “No, Harry. We don’t need any money. The headmaster is getting our supplies this year as payment for helping out with you and Draco.”

Greg snorted. “Yeah. Cause we’ve been such a great help. And why isn’t he buying Harry’s stuff?” he complained. “It’s charity. That’s what it is. Just plain charity!” Vince sighed and placed a hand over Greg’s mouth.

“As you can see, we’ve had this discussion before,” he grinned. “Let’s just leave the whole money conversation topic alone.”

Harry nodded, trying to keep a straight face. He knew how badly Ron hated it when he thought he was getting charity. He could only imagine how horrible it must be for the two pureblood Slytherins who’d been well off their entire lives to suddenly find themselves reliant on the kindness of others.

“Okay,” he smiled down at Draco. “Let’s get you some nasty smelling potions ingredients, shall we?”

______________________________________________________________________________________

Two hours later found all three boys loaded down with books, ingredients and other supplies to the point that they could hardly move. Harry sent Vince and Greg off to Fortescue’s for ice cream while he stopped in to check on the Weasley’s and to use the floo in their new business to send some things back to the castle.

Draco had protested the loss of his Harry right up until Vince had placed the chocolate hurricane cone in his hand. Vince was now grinning at Draco as the small boy tried to lick the ice cream stuck on the end of his nose. Draco was as messy at five as he was fastidiously clean at 17. Vince chuckled and elbowed Greg to take a look at the chocolaty disaster of a boy. When no response was forthcoming, he glanced up to see Greg staring across the street, eyes wide in horror.

“Greg?” he asked worriedly. When no response was forthcoming, he followed Greg’s eyes and nearly forgot to breathe.

“Well, well, well. What have we here?”

Lucius Malfoy sauntered across the road to stand in front of them. “Two little traitor boys, far away from home,” Lucius smirked, then turned to look at the small boy staring up at him with a terrified look. Lucius frowned. “Draco? Is that Draco?” he demanded angrily. He took in the muggle clothes, the dirty, terrified face, the messy hair and the ice cream slowly dripping down Draco’s arm. Lucius’ mouth twisted into a moue of disgust.

“Is this what comes of leaving my child in the hands of muggle lovers?” he hissed. “He looks like…like a street urchin! I can see that my hopes for that pathetic fool to find a cure for his bumbling produced only more chaos!” He reached a hand out to Draco imperiously. “Come with me, boy. We will take you back to the manor and deal with you.”

Draco’s fear expanded one hundred fold. He whimpered and tried to hide behind Greg. Lucius’ face was a study in fury. “I told you to—“

“I don’t think he particularly cares what you told him to do, Malfoy,” came a hard voice from behind the older blonde. Lucius turned to meet Harry Potter’s angry eyes. “I know I don’t. And he isn’t going anywhere with you.” Harry shoved past the elder Malfoy and scooped up a shivering Draco in his arms, chocolate ice cream now squished and melting against Harry’s shirtfront. His actions galvanized Greg and Vince and they stepped slightly in front of the Gryffindor and his charge.

Lucius stared in bewilderment. “You…you can’t keep me from my son,” he exclaimed.

Harry glared. “Actually, we can. You see, when you decided that you didn’t want him until he was restored, you gave a verbal agreement that you would not interfere with Dumbledore’s methods of curing. That verbal agreement is on record at the Ministry of Magic with Madam Pomfrey as a witness. So, you see…I can, and I will keep you from your son as long as humanly possible.”

Lucius was painfully aware that they were drawing a crowd, but he couldn’t let this little bastard win. “You have no right to my son,” he stated loudly. “He should be at home, with his mother and me.”

Harry sneered. “Bollocks. Where he should be is with people who love him and who would see him safe and protected.”

“And do you?” The anger faded into a smirk, one that made Harry feel rather sick to his stomach.

“Do I what?” Harry bit out.

Lucius latched on to Harry’s discomfort. “Do you ‘love’ my son, Potter?” he smirked.

Harry pulled Draco’s head in close to his chest. “Of course. He’s a wonderful child,” Harry replied warily, trying to circumvent Malfoy’s question.

“No, Mr. Potter,” Lucius nearly purred. Harry flinched, knowing that Lucius hadn’t been fooled one bit. “I didn’t ask if you loved that little ragamuffin in your arms. I asked if you loved my son.”

Harry hated Lucius Malfoy more than any creature on earth, including Voldemort, at that moment. As Draco flinched and ducked his head in under Harry’s chin, Harry could feel the tears start to fall, warm upon his neck. “Yes, you bastard,” Harry flung back. “I love your son. I love Draco Malfoy. I love him at 17, I love him at five and I’ll sell my fucking soul before I let you drag him down with you.”

Lucius Malfoy stared in amazement at the angry young man in front of him. His mind was roiling with responses, but each time he settled on one, another reared its head and came to the forefront. In the end, he said nothing. In return, Harry pointedly turned his back on the elder Malfoy, and with a quick jerk of his head, had the two Slytherin boys falling in step behind him.

Harry didn’t look back once. Vince and Greg, however, kept shooting nervous glances over their shoulders as though they expected to be crucio’d at any moment. Lucius could also see the grey eyes and blond hair of his son peeking over that blasted Potter’s shoulder. And the look he was shooting his father was anything but filial. “You won’t be getting away with this, Potter,” Lucius ground out against his teeth. “Not for long, at least.”

The trip back through the floo wasn’t as exciting for Draco as the first time. Of course the abject terror in his gut might have had something to do with that. He’d just seen his father. His terrifying father whom he could never seem to please. His father to whom no one…no one…ever stood up.

But Harry had. Harry had stood up to him. Had yelled at him, even. And threatened him. And promised that Draco would be safe. Harry had defended him. Harry had protected him. And while Draco was thrilled to know that Harry loved him that much…that he would stand up to his father…Draco knew something else.

Draco knew that his father would get even. He would talk to his other friends, the ones who wore the white masks. They’d help his father to hurt Harry. That’s what they did. They beat down anyone who yelled at his father. Who dared to defy his father.

And so Draco was sure of only one thing today…

His Harry was in great danger.

________________________________________________________________________

August 24

Harry had convinced Draco to put the frightening incident out of his mind. He assured the little boy that the headmaster would never let anyone hurt Harry. Or Draco for that matter. And Draco had nodded and smiled. He could see that his panic was upsetting Harry and that was the last thing he wanted. But he didn’t agree. And he didn’t stop worrying. And he didn’t stop being scared.

A lot was scaring him lately. Uncle Sev’rus had told him recently that the potion was almost ready for him to take. The potion that would send him back to his 17 year old body. He was excited, of course. He was five. It seemed like a great adventure. Yet, he had a niggling bit of fear. And that fear drove him to ask Harry if he could spend the morning with his Uncle Sev’rus on the day before the potion was to be administered.

Harry smiled painfully and agreed; though all he really wanted to do was spend the next 24 hours holding Draco nonstop. But, he tamped down on his own neediness and deposited Draco with the potions master. He kissed Draco on the forehead and promised to take care of Poppet until lunchtime. And then he was gone.

“Not that I don’t enjoy your company, godson of mine,” Snape smirked, “but what is it that you needed so badly to speak to me about that you couldn’t do it in front of Potter?”

Draco flushed. “Which will I remember, Uncle Sev’rus?” he asked quietly.

Snape frowned. “You mean will you remember yourself at five this time or last time?” he correctly guessed. Draco nodded. “Well, from my research, I believe you will have memories of both. You will, of course, be able to distinguish which memories are from which time period simply by the people around you.”

“Will everyone hate me again?” was his next, nearly indistinguishable question.

Snape sighed. “I don’t believe so,” he tapped his finger to his lips. “But, Draco,” he added softly, “that is entirely up to you.” Draco cocked his head curiously. “Draco. My boy, the people you…love now,” he managed without choking, “will care for you when you return to your original age simply because they have adored you for the last two months. Only your poor behaviors as that 17 year old will probably make them rethink that choice.”

Draco frowned, his five-year-old mind trying desperately to wrap around the concept of two Dracos, one of whom everyone loved and one of whom everyone hated. “But…what about Harry?” he finally asked, getting down to the crux of his problem. “Will Harry still love me?”

Snape sighed and resisted the urge to crush any chance his godson and that blasted Potter had at a relationship ‘years’ before it started. “Draco,” he said instead, “Harry Potter is a stalwart young man. He makes his decisions rashly, but they are very seldom wrong. And he stands by those decisions with the fire of a thousand burning suns,” he added wryly. “If he loves you now, he will undoubtedly love you in two days hence. More than likely, in 50 years hence. The boy is like a bulldog. He rarely lets go once he’s grabbed on to someone.”

Draco smiled serenely up at his godfather. “Thank you, Uncle Sev’rus,” he beamed.

“Don’t mention it,” the older man rubbed his hand over his face. “Really. Please, don’t ever mention it.”

_____________________________________________________________________________

August 25

“I’m scared,” Draco announced, burying his face in Harry’s shirtfront. Harry kissed the top of his head and held him close.

“I know, Poppet,” he soothed. “But in just a few moments, you’ll be all grown up again.”

“But what if it doesn’t work right?” Draco moaned, his voice muffled.

Harry smiled and gently rocked the small boy. “Love, of course it will work right. Your Uncle Sev’rus made it.” Snape jerked back; a bit shocked that Potter of all people would pay him such a compliment…even if it were true.

Vince snickered and leaned in to whisper to the professor, “I know you can’t stand him, sir, but he’s really not all that bad.”

Snape shuddered. Perhaps not. The unmitigated brat did take excellent care of Draco these past few weeks. And he was polite. And had made friends with Snape’s own Slytherins. And provided Vince with the means to excel in school, though Vince would die of shame if he knew that Pomfrey had confided in Snape. And made clear Draco’s past so that Snape could more effectively deal with the teenaged boy. And…

He grit his teeth.

But really…Potter? No. He refused to fall prey to that cheerful disposition, that caring nature, that…

Damn it! He was doing it again!

Instead of further dwelling on the proclivities of Saint Potter, he shot a glare at Vince for sending his mind off onto that rabbit chase. Much to his dismay, the Slytherin just smirked and turned back to the duo in front of them.

“Will you still love me, Harry?” Draco asked mournfully.

Harry blinked away tears. “You have my word, Draco,” he whispered.

“Will you read me our story one more time before I drink Uncle Sev’rus’s potion?” the boy wheedled.

Harry looked about the room. “Well, poppet, I don’t have it here…” Greg held the book up, having stashed it in a pocket of his robe. Harry took it with a watery smile. “Thank you, Greg.” The other boy just nodded silently. “Okay, poppet, turn so you can see the book,” Harry patted Draco’s back.

Draco squirmed around until he was nestled in Harry’s arms, head back against Harry’s chest. He smiled peacefully and settled in to hear the story.

“Little Nutbrown Hare, who was going to bed, held on tight to Big Nutbrown Hare’s very long ears. He wanted to be sure that Big Nutbrown Hare was listening. ‘Guess how much I love you,’ he said…’”

__________________________________________________________________________

“…’I love you right up to the moon,’ Little Nutbrown Hare said, and closed his eyes. ‘Oh, that is very far,’ said Big Nutbrown Hare. ‘That is very, very far.’ Big Nutbrown Hare settled Little Nutbrown Hare into his bed of leaves. He leaned over and kissed him goodnight. Then he lay down close by and whispered with a smile, ‘I love you right up to the moon—and back.’”

Harry closed the children’s book carefully, the sense of finality nearly causing him to choke. “All right, poppet,” he said gently. “There’s your story. Now it’s time to take your potion.”

Draco flung his arms around Harry’s neck, warm tears seeping down the Gryffindor’s skin. “I love you, Harry,” he whispered. “Right up to the moon.”

Harry chuckled, the tears clogging his own throat causing the chuckle to sound more like a sob. “And I love you, poppet. Right up to the moon—and back.”

Draco kissed Harry on the cheek one last time and climbed down off of his lap. Harry’s arms had never felt so empty. Draco moved to stand next to Snape and began changing into the larger robes that would fit him as a 17-year-old. Vince and Greg moved imperceptibly closer to Harry, noting the way he continued to clutch his arms around himself as though desperate to have someone to hold.

When Draco was changed, he chanced a final glance over at his Harry and smiled. Harry returned the smile weakly and waved him on. Bravely, Draco took the violet potion in his hand and braced himself. He threw his head back, tossing the liquid down his throat and quickly handed the vial back to his godfather.

And then the dizziness came.

Harry watched, fighting back tears, as his brave little Draco quaffed the potion. Almost immediately, his features began to distort. He grew in size, slowly filling out the oversized robes. No more than 20 seconds later, a fully restored Draco Malfoy stood in the spot once occupied by Harry Potter’s poppet.

Snape began performing a few tests the moment Draco’s head came back up. He checked the boy’s eyes, cast several spells and finally just asked, “How are you feeling?”

Draco nodded slowly, his back still to the three boys. “Fine,” he answered softly.

“Do you know who you are?”

A flinch.

“Draco Malfoy,” he answered.

“What do you remember of your last two months?” Snape persisted.

Draco shifted, turning just enough to glance at the young men behind him. Grey eyes met emerald, both filled with pain. “Everything.”

________________________________________________________________________________

August 25 to September 1

Harry could never catch sight of Draco Malfoy. He was unbelievably elusive. But then Harry didn’t go down to the dungeons anymore either, and that was where Draco was spending every second of his time. Harry ran into Greg and Vince at mealtimes, but other than that, even his contact with those two Slytherins had become nil.

They told him, in the brief moments between eating and running back to the dungeons, that Draco wasn’t handling it well at all. He was horrified that Harry Potter had taken care of him. That Harry Potter knew secrets about his childhood that not even his childhood friends knew. He was mortified that Harry Potter had slept with him, held him, played with him, changed his messed trousers, read to him…loved him.

Most of all, he was humiliated that he had loved Harry Potter back.

“He won’t let us talk about you,” Greg said as he reached for a roll. “He yammers on about you with practically every sentence out of his mouth, but we can’t even mention your name.”

Vince patted Harry on the back before going back to his own lunch. “He’ll get over it, Harry,” he assured the miserable Gryffindor. “He’s just a bit wigged out that he could love so completely someone he hated so much.”

“D-does he hate me…again?” Harry had to ask.

The Slytherin boys exchanged looks. “Honestly, Harry,” Vince shrugged, “ we don’t know. You’re all he can talk about, but then that was generally the case before this summer. He was always going on about Perfect Potter this and Golden Boy that. He hasn’t said one way or the other if he…cares about you still, or if he’s back to despising you.”

Harry just nodded. His shoulders settled into the defeated slump they’d acquired in the last three days. “Is he at least eating?” he pressed. “He hasn’t been to any meals.”

Greg nodded. “Dobby is bringing him food,” he assured Harry. “His feelings as a child at least seem to have rolled over as far as the House Elf is concerned. The annoying thing practically henpecks Draco to eat and Draco just takes the abuse.”

Harry smiled sadly. “Dobby is rather a pain in the arse about those he cares for.” They sat in silence, just eating for long moments. “How is Poppet?”

Vince snorted. “Growing like a weed. She misses you,” he added softly. “She’s always walking around the dorm meowing until Draco picks her up and pets her.”

Harry nodded. “I miss her too. I miss you guys as well,” he smiled up at them.

Vince swung an arm around Harry’s shoulders and squeezed briefly. “We miss you too, Harry. We miss you too.”

__________________________________________________________________________

September 1--First potions class

“All right, students,” Snape sneered down at the assembled Gryffindors and Slytherins. “Pair up.”

Quickly, before Snape could force pairings on anyone, the students partnered up. Ron and Hermione practically leaped at each other, as did Dean and Seamus. That left Harry as the only unpartnered Gryffindor in Advanced Potions. He glanced warily over at the Slytherins to see them partnered as well save for Vince, Greg Draco. All four just stood in the center of the room, hesitating.

“Is there a problem, gentlemen?” Snape glared down from his desk. Four heads shook in denial. “Then partner up.”

Vince sighed. “You work with Draco, Greg,” he murmured. “I’ll go with Harry.” Greg nodded silently and the remaining four boys went to work on their potion. Snape sighed in frustration as he watched every eye in the room alternating between Draco and Goyle and Harry and Crabbe. Obviously, only an act of God would find him with a single accurate potion at the end of class.

Eventually, as even Blaise and Pansy’s cauldron had to be scourgified to keep from an explosion, Snape gave up. “Since none of you are apparently able to do the practical, we’ll see if you can manage the research,” he snapped. “I want two scrolls on the Revivicus potion by tomorrow. Now get out of my classroom.”

The students rose and fled from Snape’s angry gaze. In the hallway, Vince grabbed for Draco’s arm, trying to get him to wait for Vince to catch up. In a move that startled the remaining students in the hall, Draco jerked away with a snarl. “Keep your filthy Gryffindor loving hands off of me, traitor.” Vince stopped dead in shock, his eyes wide.

“What…what did I do?” he asked, bewildered.

“Practically begging to work with Potter, were you Crabbe?” he sneered. “Maybe a summer spent in the company of a Gryffindor has tainted your house pride.”

Greg stepped forward, an angry look on his face. “Now, just a minute, Draco. You didn’t want to work with him. That meant one of us had to. Why are you being a bastard to Vince because he helped you out?”

“Because he liked it!” Draco hissed. He turned to look at the confused Slytherin in question. “What else did you learn to like over the summer, traitor? You bending over for him now?”

Vince physically staggered. Greg reached out a hand to steady his boyfriend and shot a glare of pure hatred towards Draco. To his credit, Draco actually looked shamed by his comment, but he still held his head up haughtily.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Draco?” Greg demanded.

“You’re both siding with him, now!” Draco demanded frantically.

“Siding with him?” Greg snorted. “I wasn’t aware there were sides to begin with.”

“You’re always eating with him,” Draco pointed out belligerently, “and talking to him. This is just one step closer to you going over to his side.”

Greg opened his mouth to retort but closed it just as quickly. He shook his head sadly and took Vince’s elbow, leading him down the hallway and out of sight. Draco watched them go with a pained look on his face, but let his mask drop when he noticed several Slytherins staring at him in shock. Just then, he was blindsided by another body.

He looked up to see Harry Potter pinning him against the dungeon wall, fury in his eyes. “Whatever problem you have developed with me,” he said, his voice like daggers, “stays with me. Don’t start taking it out on your friends. They don’t deserve it. They gave up their fucking lives for you this summer, Draco. The least you could do is respect them. Especially when they’re still trying to do you favors.”

Draco stared Harry, wide eyed in fear and something he didn’t care to put a name to. That something was causing his chest to hurt, however, and his breath to quicken. Finally, Harry sneered and released him, turning to push his way through the throngs of people that clogged the hallway. When Harry had disappeared down the opposite hallway, he straightened his robes and looked up…right into Snape’s cold gaze.

“Ten points to Gryffindor,” the professor said coldly, “for promoting interhouse relations and standing up for a fellow student. Ten points from Slytherin for demonstrating such poor treatment of one’s companions.”

__________________________________________________________________

September--Second week—great hall

Harry stared past the Ravenclaw table. He no longer cared that Ron or Hermione might see him. In fact, he was well aware that they were watching him. They’d watched him for two weeks straight now. They watched him for signs of depression, for anger, for tears. They watched him staring out windows and endlessly rolling and unrolling Draco’s birthday present. They watched him stop eating. They watched him slowly fade. They watched him watching Draco.

And they sighed. And they fretted. And they tried to gently tug him back into reality. In the end, they wound up watching him dying from the inside.

They knew from talking to Vince and Greg that Draco was no better. He’d apologized for his behavior in potions the week before, but now he too sat for infinite hours, child’s book propped open on his lap, Poppet cuddled up in his arms, staring into space. Draco had ceased speaking unless spoken to. He had ceased eating unless one of his companions filled his plate and shoved a fork in his hand or Dobby badgered him into finishing a meal. They reported that they forced him to bed, but couldn’t make him sleep.

And so, here sat the star-crossed…lovers? Enemies? One on each side of the Ravenclaw table. Harry staring with fierce determination at Draco, as though he could will the life back into the Slytherin. Draco staring with equal determination at his plate, knowing Harry was watching him and totally unwilling to make eye contact with his Gryffindor.

A commotion drew the attention of both boys to the back of the room. Lucius Malfoy stood, framed in the doorway, pausing to allow the entire hall to notice his entrance. Only when all eyes were on him did he begin to glide to the front of the room. Harry didn’t take his eyes off of the blonde bastard as he made his regal way past the Gryffindor table. He paid no attention to the strange looks his housemates were throwing him. He wasn’t aware that he had started growling in the back of his throat.

Malfoy stopped in front of the head table and leaned in to converse quietly with the headmaster. Hermione glanced over at the rest of the staff to find Madam Pomfrey watching Malfoy as though he were scraped from the bottom of her shoe. McGonagall’s lips were pursed to the point that they were colorless. Snape watched emotionlessly, though Hermione thought she could see his fingers tightening on his glass.

She noted that Vince and Greg had dropped their dinner and were looming protectively over an ashen-faced Draco. Vince exchanged a weak smile with her, but Greg was as totally focused on Lucius as Harry. His expression was not so dissimilar either. She looked back at Harry. He had started to nearly vibrate in his seat, his hands clenched into fists. Ron’s gaze moved continuously from the fists to Harry’s eyes and back down to the fists, waiting for the moment he would have to jump his best friend to keep him out of Azkaban.

Malfoy seemed to conclude his conversation with Dumbledore, who looked none too pleased. The former Slytherin bowed shortly and spun on his heel, smiling coldly down the length of the Slytherin table. He caught sight of his son, who was trying as desperately not to make eye contact with him as he had just been trying to avoid looking at Harry Potter.

“Draco,” he called imperiously, tipping the snakehead of his cane in the younger Malfoy’s direction. “Come, boy. We are needed at home. Gather your belongings, bid farewell to your little friends. It will be an indefinite stay.” If possible, Draco grew paler. Harry nearly shot out of his seat. Only Ron’s now painful grip on his arm kept him in place. The other Gryffindors couldn’t seem to decide whom to watch: Lucius, Draco or Harry.

Draco pushed his plate carefully away from him and stood on shaking legs. Greg and Vince gazed up at him, eyes full of horror, words of denial on their lips. Draco cleared his throat and fixed his eyes on a spot directly behind his father. “N-no,” he choked out, barely loud enough for the sound to carry to his father.

Lucius frowned, anger building in his eyes. Greg and Vince took a moment to process what Draco had just said and then rose as one to blanket him on each side. Lucius’ frown increased. “What do you mean, no?” he bit out. “I gave you an order, son. Gather your things.”

Draco stood straighter, whether because he had his best friends giving him support or because he realized that Malfoy couldn’t do anything to him here, Harry didn’t know. And he didn’t really much care. “No, father,” came the much clearer response. “I will not.”

Harry closed his eyes and Ron felt a bit of the tension in Harry’s body leave. “Thank you,” Harry breathed before opening his eyes back up to watch the Malfoy men in quiet battle.

“And why not?” Lucius narrowed his eyes dangerously.

Draco took another breath and crossed his arms. “Because we’re not needed at home,” he stated calmly. “There’s no family emergency. No one is dead. All your money is in place. The only reason you want me home is to have me marked.”

No sound was heard in the hall. Breaths were held.

A bitterly cold expression came over Lucius Malfoy’s face. “There is indeed an emergency, my son,” he said in clipped tones. “Cease your ridiculous babbling. Your grandmother on your mother’s side is very ill. She requests our presence at her side during her last days.” He smiled sadly, the smile never quite reaching his eyes.

Draco snorted. “Grandmother died when I was a first year. And if I recall, her last request was that her whore of a daughter, her evil bastard son-in-law and her sodding vermin grandson not be allowed to set foot at her funeral.” Quiet murmurs were going up from the surrounding tables. “No, father,” Draco shook his head. “You want to drag me back home to present to your Lord for the Dark Mark just like you wanted to do this summer. And I won’t go.” He lifted his chin defiantly.

Lucius’ face was stark white. The only hint of color on his face was the small circles of red on his cheekbones. He grasped the head of his cane and took a threatening step forward before being brought up shortly by the wand in his throat. He gagged and froze to the spot. “Put it down, Lucius,” came a silky voice at his ear. Lucius snarled, but released his grip on the cane to only one handed.

“What are you doing, Severus?” he demanded, throat bobbing against the point of the wand.

“Why, Lucius,” he purred. “I would have thought you’d guessed. I’m taking a stand. In the open, finally, instead of skulking around darkened woods listening and watching for you to make a fatal error.”

Lucius’ eyes widened and he made to turn. Snape’s grip on his arm and the sudden intense pressure of wood against his esophagus changed his mind. “You,” he hissed instead. “You are the traitor! You’re the spy!”

Snape chuckled against Malfoy’s ear. “Jolly good work, old boy,” he smirked. “And it only took you, what? Eighteen years to figure that out?”

“You’ll pay for this,” Lucius promised him harshly. “He’ll kill you for this. For what you’ve done.”

Snape shrugged against his back. “I’m sure he will try. Just as soon as he finds out. Which I’m assuming will be directly after you leave here, tail wagging like a puppy with a particularly juicy bone.” Lucius glared bloody death upon all who snickered at that.

“He’ll make you suffer,” he bit out.

“If he can get to me, I’m sure he will,” Snape agreed. “However, I am well protected.”

“Ah, yes,” Lucius sneered. “Your precious Dumbledore.”

Snape shrugged again. “Among others.”

Lucius was visibly trembling in anger, his eyes promising pain as they skittered over Draco. “Like Harry Potter?” Intakes of breath could be heard across the room. “Your beloved Boy-Who-Lived? He can’t protect you, Snape. He can’t even protect himself.”

Snape actually laughed. “And yet, there he sits, quite alive. I think I’ll take my chances with the boy.”

Lucius smirked. “Will he be your new master, Severus? Have you sold your arse to him for protection yet?”

Snape was suddenly in front of the blonde man, hatred emanating from him in a wave as the wand dug even further into Lucius’ throat, as though to bypass the threat of a spell and go straight to impaling his jugular. “He is not my master,” he hissed. “I have no master, now. I am finally free for the first time in almost 20 years. Free of you, free of Him. I like it that way. I don’t plan to change that anytime soon.”

“However,” he moved closer to Lucius’ face, spittle flying from his lips as he spoke, landing on the creamy skin of the elder Malfoy. “If the need arose for me to swear fealty to a new master, I’ll gladly go to my knees for Harry Potter rather than submit again to that maggot filled carcass you worship.”

“Severus.”

Snape jerked at the sound of Dumbledore’s voice, causing Lucius to choke again. “Yes, Albus?” He replied with a forced calm.

“Let’s just allow Mr. Malfoy to leave, shall we?”

Snape held motionless for a long moment before pulling back with a muttered curse. He backed away, holding his wand on Malfoy as he went. Malfoy rubbed his bruised throat, his eyes icy with hatred.

“Thank you, headmaster,” he responded, his voice a bit husky after having had a wand jammed into his voice box. “However, I am not leaving without my son.”

“Ah, I am afraid you are, Mr. Malfoy,” Dumbledore shook his head. “Enough innuendo…and plain statement…has been uttered here that I feel compelled to keep young master Malfoy in Hogwart’s protective custody. You may of course take this up with the Ministry of Magic, if you wish.” He folded his hands into the voluminous sleeves of his robes and waited.

Lucius gaped at Dumbledore. “You…but you…” He spun, eyes searching the Gryffindor table. “You!” he screeched as soon as his eyes lit on Harry. “You did this! This is your fault!” Harry stood to face his accuser, shaking off Ron’s arm, but noting that Ron and Hermione stood at his side as well. Lucius stalked over to stand in front of the Gryffindor table, causing the students sitting between Harry and him to scoot down quickly.

“You did this,” he repeated. “You turned him against me! The bloody Boy Who Lived with his nasty little fingers in everything.”

“Draco makes his own choices, Malfoy,” Harry replied evenly.

“No!” Lucius nearly screamed. “Draco isn’t capable of making his own choices. He has always followed my guidelines, my rules, my footsteps! Until this summer and you. You twisted him. You turned him against his family. Against his future!”

“I showed him kindness, Lucius,” Harry snapped. “Caring, affection. Things a small child needs to survive. I did no turning of any kind. No twisting. If you are so determined to look for someone to blame, perhaps you should start with the way you’ve treated him his entire life. Had I kicked him in the head everyday, it still would have been an improvement over your parental skills.”

Lucius gripped his cane again, his eyes wide with hate. “Liar! You showed him lies! Lies wrapped in false promises. Threats! What did you threaten him with if he didn’t stay with you, Potter?” he spat. “I imagine you couldn’t wait to rub his face in what he owed you for his care this summer.”

Harry leaned forward, eyes snapping in anger. “I wouldn’t do that, you bastard! He knows that!”

“Really?” Lucius seemed to calm instantly, smiling slyly. “What else does he know, Potter?”

Harry flushed, hating this man with all the passion he could muster.

“Does he know you love him?” Heads turned as though they were on strings from the vicious verbal fight between Lucius and Harry over to the pale visage of Draco. He refused to meet anyone’s eyes, continuing to stare across the room at his father and his defender. “Does he, Potter? What was it you told me this past month?” he tapped his finger against his chin thoughtfully. “Ah, yes. ‘I love Draco Malfoy. I love him at 17. I love him at five and I’ll sell my fucking soul before I let you drag him down with you.’”

Color was high on Harry’s face as Lucius leaned in with a smirk. “So, Harry,” he whispered, causing the other tables to strain to catch his words, “Is he as good in bed at five as he is at 17? I always thought so.”

As the shock rippled through the room, Harry saw red. The growl was back in his throat and nothing Ron could do would keep him from ripping this fucker’s throat out. He launched himself up and over the Gryffindor table, tackling Lucius before he could move away. He drove the older man to the ground, pleased with the resounding crack that echoed through the room as Lucius’ head contacted with the stone floor.

Screams went up from the Gryffindor table as Harry and Lucius disappeared from sight. The sickening crack was followed by the dull thud of flesh on flesh. Every teacher in the room raced to help, though they weren’t quite sure who needed the help the most when they came into eyesight. Harry had the elder Malfoy pinned to the ground and was pounding the man’s face into hamburger. Curses flew from the boy’s lips, and angry accusations. Along with threats.

“I’ll kill you, you fucking baby raper!” he screamed shrilly against the rhythmic thud of his fists. “I’ll rip your fucking cock off and choke you with it!”

Harry didn’t let finesse get in his way. He simply balled up his fist and pounded. Harry punched the older man in the head over and over again, until no more satisfying cracks could be gleaned from his face and Harry’s hands were slipping off of Lucius’ skin from the blood. He then transferred his rage to Malfoy’s torso. Dimly, he recognized that there were bodies stumbling toward him, voices calling for him to stop. But he had Lucius Malfoy where he’d wanted him for months now and there was no way he was giving that up.

He wouldn’t know until years later how he’d cast the barrier. He supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised that he did it at all. After all, he’d been known to spontaneously create spells in moments of great anger or fear. But there it was…a glorious wall between Harry’s vengeance and those who would interfere with it.

Snape launched himself at Harry, intending to knock the boy off of Malfoy. He noticed as he was airborne, the shimmering air in front of him and curled to keep from slamming his face into the barrier. “Bloody hell!” he bellowed. A moment later, he’d picked himself up and was casting to end the shield. His expression grew darker as the shield refused to respond.

Dumbledore stepped forward and added his words to Snape’s. The school watched in awed horror as even the venerated old magician failed to break the barrier. Snape dropped his wand hand and began beating on the air. “Potter! Stop, you bloody idiot! You’ll kill him! Potter!” He stared wildly around the room, his hair whirling about his shoulders. “Draco!” he shouted to the stunned blonde still standing at the Slytherin table.

“Draco, get over here now, boy!”

Draco shook off the stupor he seemed to have fallen in and, along with Greg and Vince, barreled over tables until he was at his godfather’s side. “Oh, my…” he skidded to a halt, swaying on his feet as he took in the ruined mess of his father’s face.

“No time for hysterics, boy,” Snape snapped, grabbing him by the arm and planting him directly in front of Harry’s head. “Talk to him, Draco,” he ordered. “Make him stop. If he kills him, he’s going straight to Azkaban.”

“But what can I…?” Draco cut himself off abruptly and knelt, his father’s face just on the other side of the clear wall. “P-Potter?” he tried. “Potter, you have to stop. You’re killing my father.” His hands shook as he pressed them against the shield. “Potter? Stop! You have to stop.” Harry moved away from Malfoy’s face and began to pummel his chest. Cracks could be heard from beyond the barrier as well as a strange gurgling noise emanating from Lucius Malfoy’s lips.

Draco shuddered and pounded a bit harder. “Potter! Harry, stop!” he pleaded. “Please! Harry, you have to stop.” Harry continued to pound. Draco could see the blood begin to pool around his father’s form. In one part of his brain, a part distanced from all the violence and hysteria, he noted that he was more worried about Harry going to the Dementors for this than he was his father’s lifeblood spilling across the floor.

“Harry, please!” he screamed. “Please! You’re scaring me! Harry, please,” he moaned, desperately hitting the wall.

Like someone had flicked a switch, Harry stopped. He raised his head up from his victim, a vicious snarl still on a face flecked with blood and eyes that held an insane light. Draco caught his breath and flattened his palms on the shield. “Harry, please stop,” he breathed on last time. The light dimmed and Harry shook his head slightly.

“Draco?” he whispered in confusion.

Draco smiled through watery eyes and nodded. “Yes, Harry. It’s me. It’s Draco. Please stop. You’ll kill him. You’ll go to Azkaban.”

Harry stared mutely for long moments and then raised a hand to mirror Draco’s on the shield. Unfortunately, it was a hand smeared in blood and gore and when Harry placed it on the barrier, it smeared a crimson streak down against Draco’s palm. The blond jerked his hand back away from his father’s blood, frantically inspecting his own hand to verify that it wasn’t covered now in red fluids.

His eyes shot back up to Harry’s and he choked out, “I’m sorry,” before scrambling to his feet and bolting out of the Hall.

“Draco!” Harry shouted, slamming both hands into the barrier, bringing it down in a surge of magic. “Draco!” He staggered to his feet, tripping over Malfoy’s still body. Thick, warm arms wrapped around him, holding him stable until his feet were under him again. But, by that time, Draco was gone. “Draco?” he called softly again.

“Let him go, Harry,” Greg tightened his arms around the Gryffindor. He nodded to Vince, who took off after Draco. “Vince will find him. He’ll be okay. You need to calm down, Harry,” he added soothingly. “Just calm down.”

Harry stared longingly at the door Draco disappeared through and then sagged in Greg’s arms as the adrenaline, the rage, the magic wore off. The last thing he felt before the darkness took him were Greg’s comforting arms around him.

______________________________________________________________________________

Vince followed the trail of slack jawed, staring paintings to the Slytherin common room. There, it really was only a matter of unlocking the dorm room door from the spells Draco had put on it. Normally, Vince might have had a problem. However, Draco was obviously not in his best form today as it only took Vince a matter of minutes to end all the spells.

When he finally entered the dorm, he found Draco sitting on the bed, arms clenched around a worried Poppet. The blonde was rocking slowly back and forth, staring wide-eyed out into the room. Vince moved forward carefully, making enough noise so as to not startle the boy. He gently eased down on the bed, barely disturbing the duvet.

“Draco?” he asked quietly. No response forthcoming, he reached out to touch Draco’s hand. A frightened yelp was his answer and he jerked his hand back quickly. Draco continued to curl away from his friend. “Draco, I just wanted to tell you that I am proud of you for standing up to your father,” Vince tried.

A strange sound escaped Draco’s lips. It took Vince a moment to recognize it as laughter. Then, the laughter built until Draco was pushing hysterics. Still, he flinched from any touch Vince attempted. The door opened and Vince glanced worriedly over to Greg. He shrugged, helpless to fix this strange new infliction.

Greg eased down on the bed as well, causing Draco to flinch again. However, he stopped laughing. He went back to rocking and staring. Poppet mewed her support and Draco lovingly began to pet her head, still not seemingly aware of anything else.

They sat for long moments. Draco staring into nothingness, Vince and Greg staring at Draco. Eventually, Draco kissed Poppet on the head and carefully set her down. He looked up into the concerned eyes of his two oldest friends.

“Please take me to Harry,” he whispered.

___________________________________________________________________

Harry slouched in the cushiony armchair, his just washed hair dripping slightly onto his fresh set of robes. He refused to go to Madam Pomfrey, even when Headmaster Dumbledore suggested it. Instead he went straight for the shower and spent nearly 20 minutes scrubbing the remains of Lucius Malfoy from under his nails. His hands still hurt like mad, and they were beginning to swell up, but he refused to seek treatment. He refused to move.

He had flopped in the chair almost 10 minutes ago and hadn’t moved so much as a muscle since then. The common room was full of students quietly ‘working’ or ‘playing games’. Harry wasn’t fooled. He could see them watching him out of the corners of their eyes, waiting for an explanation that he simply wasn’t going to give them.

Ron sat nearby, playing chess with Seamus. Hermione and Neville sat to their left, theoretically poring over their Charms texts. The only one who wasn’t making any sort of an effort to hide their concern and curiosity was Ginny. She sat in the chair across from Harry, blatantly staring at him. He’d taken to shutting his eyes so that her pointed blue gaze couldn’t force any answers out of him. As such, he didn’t notice when the second year stumbled up next to her and shifted anxiously from foot to foot as he stared at Harry.

Ginny sighed and stood. She tugged the second year out of earshot. “What is the problem, Ashford?” she snapped quietly.

“Umm…” the second year just pointed at the portrait. Ginny rolled her eyes and headed that direction. She opened the portrait up and things began clicking into place.

“Here to see Harry?” she questioned. At Crabbe and Goyle’s brief nods, she stepped aside and pointed to the back of the common room. They nodded again in thanks and gently herded a fragile looking Malfoy along beside them.

As they drew closer, Hermione looked up. Her eyes widened and she reached over to poke Harry in the side. His eyes popped open and he glared at her. Nonetheless, he followed her pointing finger until it came to rest on the object of his misery. He leaped out of the chair, startling Seamus so much that the Irish boy knocked over the chessboard.

Harry didn’t stop to apologize. He just continued heading to meet the Slytherins in the middle of the common room. They stopped with about five feet in-between them and just stared at one another. Finally, Harry bit the proverbial bullet.

“Hi,” he managed.

The corner of Draco’s mouth twitched. “Hi,” he responded.

Harry felt himself loosing control of the mature mask he’d donned since three weeks ago when he lost his beloved Draco. He knew he was one shy look or one tear away from dragging Draco Malfoy into his arms and never letting him go again. “Draco, I’m so sorry…” he tried.

Draco held up a hand and Harry fell silent, his heart aching with every beat. “I’ve had a really strange last few weeks,” Draco began softly. “The last three, however, have been the worst I’ve ever spent in my life.” Harry looked sickened at having caused any of Draco’s discomfort. “I’ve run the gauntlet from relief to terrified out of my mind.”

“I feel like I don’t know who I am anymore. I don’t know what to do to make it make sense again.” He shrugged slightly. “I’ve been thinking about how I felt as a child this time around. How I wasn’t scared. How I wasn’t going insane. And I’ve tried to distinguish just what it was that was so pivotal. The difference between who I was then and who I am now.”

He gazed up at Harry, eyes deep with confusion and pain. “The only thing I can come up with is you.” Harry bit back a moan and clenched his hands tightly to keep from flinging his arms around the blonde. “You protected me with your presence. You just seemed to radiate safety. Somehow, I knew that no matter what went wrong or how scared I was, or even how fucked up everything was turning out, that all I needed to make my world right was to feel your arms around me.”

Draco smiled wryly. “I know I’m not five anymore. I know that most of what I felt was probably just fond remembrances of the childhood I wanted to have instead of the one I actually did…but …I can’t help but hope…” His voice cracked and a tear slipped down his cheek. Harry felt himself move forward slightly before he could catch it.

“Hope that maybe…maybe it wasn’t only because I was an ignorant child. That maybe if I say I’m scared, and you hold me, everything will make sense again.” Tears were coming faster now, creating a shining silver streak against the pale flesh of his face. “I don’t know. I don’t know anything.” His breath hitched on a sob and he stared into Harry’s face, searching for answers.

“I just know I’m scared, Harry,” he whispered. “And I want you to hold me again.”

Harry’s arms were around Draco before the Slytherin could finish the sentence. He gently rocked him, crooning words of comfort into his ears. Draco’s arms slid around Harry’s waist and held on with a death grip as sobs wracked the slender body. Harry shuffled them a few steps to the left and they collapsed onto a couch that had been hurriedly emptied of its Gryffindor occupants when they’d seen Harry coming.

As Harry cuddled Draco in his arms, whispering soft promises and soothing praise into his ear, Hermione stood and waved the gawking students off to their dorm rooms. When the last of the Gryffindors had vanished, Hermione turned to Greg and Vince. She smiled wearily at them. A brief hug later and she was ushering them out the portrait hole and heading upstairs herself.

She paused to take one last look down at the two boys curled up into one another on the couch. A smile stole over her lips and then she made her way up to her room.

Draco eventually cried himself out and even the shudders that wracked his body stopped. Harry held him the whole while, dropping reassuring kisses on Draco’s blonde head. In due course, Draco looked up at Harry, who smiled lovingly at him.

“Feeling better, poppet?” he whispered, thinking that even with red eyes and puffy cheeks that Draco Malfoy was the most beautiful man he’d ever laid eyes on.

Draco cracked a tiny smile and nodded, snuggling down into Harry’s arms again. “I’m sorry I’ve been such an arse these last few weeks,” he murmured.

Harry kissed his head again. “It’s okay. You’ve had a pretty shitty past few weeks. You weren’t expected to act as thought nothing had happened. And, since we’re offering apologies,” he snorted, “I’m sorry I attacked your father.”

Draco looked up, a wry smile on his face. “Really?”

Harry looked embarrassed and then sighed. “Oh, all right. No, I’m not really sorry I did it. I’m just sorry I scared you with it.”

Draco picked up one of the hands caressing his arm. Harry’s hands were beginning to show signs of bruising along with the swelling. “You didn’t get them healed?” Draco asked curiously. Harry shook his head. “I hate that you’re hurting because of me,” Draco reproached.

Harry shook his head. “I’m hurting for you, love. Never because of you. I’m wearing these hands for me actually. To remind me how close I came today to killing a man.”

Draco shuddered. “They would have put you in Azkaban,” he nearly whimpered.

“Maybe,” Harry shrugged. “But the bastard would have been dead. He never would have hurt you again. All in all, it would have been an acceptable loss for me.”

“Loss?” Draco asked confusedly.

“My freedom for your safety.”

“But this way, we have both,” Draco argued. “You’re free and I know that whatever happens, you’ll keep me safe.”

Harry loved the trust shining out of those grey eyes. He just wrapped his arms back around Draco.

“So,” Draco sighed happily, “where do we go from here?”

Harry shrugged. “I don’t really know. All I know for sure is that I want to go there with you.”

Draco looked up cheekily. “Even if it’s to the moon?”

Harry dropped a gentle kiss, their very first, onto Draco’s lips. He reveled in the warmth and returned desire Draco offered him. “To the moon, love. And back.”