Title: Burdenless Love

Author: Queen Delphina

Email: possibly R for later chapters

Warnings: Slash (this means boy/boy love! Stop now if this squicks you!)

Disclaimer: I do not own anything besides the original characters. I do own the rights to the word 'Burdenless' (not really). This story is based on the characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books, Raincoast Books and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. I'm just holding the characters hostage for the duration of this and any other fics I intend on writing.

Summary: Harry gets himself kicked out of the Dursleys and finds himself at a Muggle café. The same café that Draco Malfoy frequently visits.

Author Notes: Thanks and dedication go out to Macai for the plot bunny this story was hatched from and for initially corrupting me with slash. Also big thanks to Poca, Princess Jewel and Queen Sunny for keeping me on task and being my dedicated betas!

Chappy 1

Birthday Greetings

Harry Potter sat at his small desk, admiring his birthday cards from his two best friends, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. It wasn't just any birthday though, he thought to himself. He would be sixteen in a couple of hours. Not that any of the Dursleys would remember. At most, they might give him an old sock that had holes in it. Too bad he wasn't a house-elf. Then that would be his way to free himself from this room he thought served as a prison as well as an escape. He sighed.

The Dursley's had become even more tiresome with the events during the last year. That was mostly because of the death of his beloved Godfather, Sirius Black. The Dursleys no longer feared being turned into bats, so they no longer felt the need to be even civil towards Harry. That meant Harry was subjected to worse cruelty and punishment than ever before. Harry didn't dare venture out of his bedroom except once a day to forage for food. He waited until all three of the Dursleys were gone.

Sometimes, when the Dursley's decided to stay in for dinner, Harry had to survive on his supply of chocolate frogs and pumpkin pasties, generously sent to him by Hermione and Ron. There were Hagrid's rock cakes as well, but Harry wasn't quite that desperate.

Unfortunately, this left Harry with plenty of time alone with his thoughts. There was one thought that ran through his memory thousands of times a day: If he, Harry, hadn't been so reckless, Sirius would still be alive. That would be a burden Harry would carry on his shoulders for the rest of his young life.

He would not even get to leave this summer. The Weasley's had begged Dumbledore to let Harry stay with them for the last month of the summer holidays. Dumbledore said it would not be safe for Harry to be anywhere except Privet Drive. This blow hit hard, because the Weasley family was as close to a real family as Harry had ever had. Ron was just like a brother.

There was a scream that pierced the silence. It was a woman-- Aunt Petunia. Harry pretended he hadn't heard her and continued on with his thoughts.

"Boy! Get down here now!" yelled the pudgy man that was Harry's despised Uncle Vernon, once again, interrupting Harry's morose reflections.

"Coming, Uncle Vernon." He hastily drudged down the stairs.

Harry sighed, inaudibly of course. He wished he could summon his wand; it would make him more comfortable, but he couldn't legally do magic outside of school until the age of seventeen.

"What do you want, Uncle?" Harry asked civilly.

"What did you do to him?" He pointed to a still form on the ground. The clothes were bulging around the limp form. It was Dudley. Harry couldn't spot any blood pooled around the boy, and came to the conclusion that it had to have been an act of sorcery.

"I didn't--" Harry said, while looking around. It had to have been Voldemort's doing, Harry knew. It was this feeling he had, deep in the pit of his stomach.

"Fix him!" roared Vernon.

Petunia didn't say anything; she was still in shock.

"I can't do magic outside of school."

"You've had no trouble any other time!" Harry looked over to see his aunt sobbing over Dudley's body. He walked closer and kneeled down beside his aunt. He checked for a pulse. A weak flutter against his fingers reassured him.

"If I can go grab my wand-"

"Go get it!"

Harry returned moments later, wand in hand. "Ennervate," Harry said rather loudly.

Dudley groaned, but did not fully awaken.

"He'll be okay in a little bit," announced Harry. "It was meant for me," he accidentally spoke his thoughts. Unfortunately, Petunia heard him.

"You mean my little Duddykins took the fall for you? He nearly died in your place?" she asked.

Harry realized what he had just said and looked to Vernon. He gulped.

"I want you to leave my house and never return! You are a danger to my family!"

"But Dumbledore said-"

"I don't really care what that crackpot had to say! If you stay, that wizard Vol-volde-voldemort might decide to take us out for keeping you safe. I don't want to risk the lives of my family to protect a…a…mongrel like you!" He roared, spitting everywhere.

"Voldemort won't get you as long as this house is protected by Dumbledore and the Ministry of Magic. It's only until I get back to Hogwarts."

"I don't care! Leave."

"But, I can't-"

"Nonsense. I will not let you back into my house! Ever!"

Harry gave up trying to level with the purple-faced man.

Vernon snatched Harry's wand from his hand. Harry was stunned, knowing he had unleashed his uncle's fury. "Give me my wand back," Harry said through gritted teeth.

"NO!" Vernon shouted. He then grabbed Harry by his too big, hand me down sweatshirt. "You listen, boy," he said roguishly. "I never want you to set foot in my house again." With that, he threw Harry to the curb. Harry rubbed his neck. There was nothing more to say. He had nothing. No wand, no way to get to his vault at Gringotts, nothing. Despite this, he began walking. Far enough away so that he never had to see Little Whinging or any Dursley again.

Harry stopped. He was exhausted, having walked for over an hour without rest or food. He had collected a bit of spare change from passers-by who pitied him because they thought he was a poor homeless boy. 'I guess I really am homeless now,' he thought sarcastically.

Then he noticed a building. Although it seemed really late, the shop was still open. 'Maybe if I could scrounge up some food here,' he thought. When he entered, he didn't notice the blonde staring at him with something other than hatred in his metallic eyes.

Draco Malfoy sat in his usual booth, sipping his usual latte filled to the brim with chocolate mousse. That being the only predictable part of his day since he had run away from his father…

Draco sat stiffly in his chair. He knew where he was. It was Voldemort's lair. The windowless room made him feel unnerved. This room provided no means of escape if necessary. That could never have a good ending. He shuddered.

A petite, mousy-haired boy, no older than Draco apparated suddenly into the room. He reflexively tensed and reached for his wand inside the sleeve of his robes.

"It's time," he said, grabbing Draco's arm roughly.

Draco did not have a chance to protest, because with a pop, he found himself standing before Voldemort. The man looked wretched. The blood red eyes made Draco tenser than he already had been. It made him look even more like the snake that he was.

"Welcome, welcome, Mr. Malfoy. You are about to partake in a very sacred ritual. I sincerely hope you are ready." Voldemort's cold voice echoed through the hall.

Draco nodded, all the while, forming a plan in his head. Escape was now his number one priority. Sure, he had wanted to become a Death Eater when he had been younger. Then he had seen what it really entailed.

Their leader treated the Death Eaters without respect. If purebloods were supposed to be the 'better' people, why was it that Voldemort instilled fear into each and every one of his followers? Draco felt no desire to take orders from this man and run around in a mask for the rest of his life.

Voldemort clapped his hands. Instantly a small, balding man bowed down and kissed the hem of his robes.

"My lord," he said to Voldemort. "What would you like me to do?"

Voldemort grabbed his arm and placed his wand tip to the Dark Mark. "Stand still, Wormtail. You know the summoning only burns for a minute." Wormtail whimpered in pain.

Draco hastily thought up excuses on why he shouldn't be initiated. So far he had come up with a total of nothing.

Death Eaters apparated out of nowhere. Draco knew his father was somewhere in the group.

"My Lord," Draco started, bowing down to the snake lord. "I feel gratified that you would think me ready to join your ranks. However, I think it wise, if I didn't receive the mark just yet. How could I go back to school, with that old Muggle loving fool?"

"Draco," hissed the snake lord. "I do believe you prove a point. You would prove a most excellent spy for our side. But, you must prove your loyalty somehow." He clapped his hands again. This time, two guards raced in, stumbling over their feet. "You will escort young Draco here to the old Riddle House. He is to find a Muggle girl and practice various dark spells on the Muggle until they are mastered. Then, he must kill her." He turned to Draco. "Make me proud. I don't want to see your pretty little face get scarred..."

Draco shook his head as he snapped out of his reverie. "Carl!" he called. "Another latte! Make it extra strong. Stupid get," he added in an undertone so that the boy could not hear him.

Carl nodded and headed off to the kitchen. Draco closed his eyes and more memories flooded his mind…

Draco opened his eyes and breathed in a mouthful of dust. "When was the last time someone lived here?" he asked the guard standing next to him.

He shrugged his shoulders and grunted.

Draco took a closer look. It had to be Goyle senior. And the other man reminded him of Crabbe. 'Just great,' he thought. 'Can't even escape them outside of school.' It seemed the elder men were no smarter than their children.

Draco headed away from them. He walked about three meters before an invisible chain yanked him backwards.

"Just a precaution," a disembodied voice hissed…

"Here's your latte, Drake."

Draco looked up sharply. "How many times do I have to tell you NOT to call me that?"

"Sorry."

"You'd better be," Draco snapped.

Carl walked off, like a puppy with its tail between its legs.

Draco would never admit it, but he felt like he would never be all right again. It had been an emotional summer…

He heard the screams the girl had given off. The imperious hadn't made her scream. Draco made sure he only made her do harmless things. The screams happened much later, and Draco had had to listen.

He thought the goons wouldn't realize he hadn't moved on to darker spells. They hadn't, but Voldemort had.

"Draco, Draco, Draco," he had said. "I guess it's time I disciplined you. This is your only warning. I won't be so nice next time. Crucio!"

The pain was unbearable. White-hot flames shot up his arms and legs. Draco forced himself to remain standing. Falling would be a sign of weakness. It was something his father told him never to do. Eventually, he fell to his knees and let a loud, piercing scream escape his lips. Draco knew that the pain wouldn't last that long. Voldemort only wanted to scare him right now. He also realized how desperately he needed to escape.

That night, he used a newly found spell that would ensure that the binding Voldemort cast would be canceled. He was out the door already when he heard a moan. Something told him he needed to go back for the girl. He really could not see her killed.

He ran back to her room, cast a sleeping spell on her and picked her up. An alarm sounded. "Shit!" he whispered. He wished desperately that he could apparate on his own.

He ran out the back door and found himself surrounded by death eaters. He ran the other way and made it out the door. He could hear shouts behind him of "seize him" and ran all the faster. Thank goodness for Quidditch training. He easily outran the older Death Eaters.

His arms became increasingly tired and knew he wouldn't last much longer with the girl, so he looked for somewhere to dump her. A shed was nearby. He looked to make sure no one saw him and placed her inside on the floor, not bothering to remove the charms.

After a minute, he heard the door to the shed open.

He snuck out, hoping they wouldn't notice him. They didn't. Instead they found the girl.

"Enervate," hissed someone.

The girl moaned. "Draco? Is that you?"

Draco groaned. He was so dead. Why hadn't he stopped them?

"Do you know where he is?"

No response.

"We won't hurt you," Draco heard Lucius's voice. His eyes widened as he realized what Lucius intended to do with the girl.

The girl whimpered.

"If you won't answer the easy way, you'll answer the hard way! Crucio!" shouted the first man. The screams were unbearable. Draco knew that this was his one chance to escape, while they were still involved with the girl...

Draco still wondered if the brunette lived or if the Death Eaters had killed her. He felt salty tears stain his cheeks. He brushed them away angrily and took deep calming breaths to stop shaking. Sure, he'd heard about all the bad things that happened to smuggles and mudbloods and had even laughed. But to actually witness it and take part…it made him queasy even now. And he could not show weakness, even if it was just to a bunch of Muggle. He suddenly felt like he was being watched. He couldn't shake the feeling. It had been happening since yesterday. He needed to get more protection. He knew that his father would not wait much longer to take him back. He could just hear Lucius if he caught him. "You've had your fun, Draco. Now it's time to come home and resume your place." Once they got home, he would be severely punished for disgracing him in front of Voldemort. He'd make it sound like nothing would change, but Draco knew better.

That would never happen. He hoped to be able to hide behind Dumbledore, but that Muggle loving fool would never accept him. He'd have to do something drastic, like defeating Voldemort. Just as suddenly as the feeling of being watched appeared, it disappeared.

Draco looked up tentatively, seeing Harry Potter, premier Golden Boy of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry stride into his café. Potter looked awful. Although, his toned muscles and his tan made him look much older than he really was.

A plan began to form in Draco's mind. He sauntered over to where Potter stood and hissed in a voice that sounded dry, "Well, look what the cat dragged in."

Harry gasped and almost dropped his bread. "Draco! I mean, Malfoy! What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be living in the lap of luxury at some Death Eater camp?" Harry glanced furtively down at himself. He definitely was not dressed for a confrontation with his archrival.

This action went unnoticed by Draco, who was startled at how close to the truth that comment had come. He cleared his head and stared coolly at the raven-haired boy before him.

Draco, incidentally, was the picture of perfection. He did look rather pale, although he was always pale, and much taller than last time they saw each other. He did not look the build for a seeker any longer. It seemed as though he had seen one too many ghosts and couldn't shake them off. Draco sighed. Then he took stock of himself and got his emotions in check. Nobody could know of his problems, especially not Potter. He tried to think of something biting to say, but was feeling entirely too regretful about the events of the last few weeks to be his usual sarcastic and nasty self.

"Potter. Isn't it way past your bedtime? " Draco asked stiffly.

"Get lost!" replied Harry.

"I'd rather you did."

"You don't own the café."

"And why wouldn't I? My father is rich, Potter." He paused for a moment. "Step into my office," he said. Harry Potter was just the person to help Draco win Dumbledore over.

"Sure," Harry said narrowing his eyes.

"Sit down, Potter." He looked over at the skinny form of the Golden Boy still reluctantly standing. "Carl, get Potter here a tea."

"I prefer coffee," Harry corrected, sitting down.

"Sure, Drake." The pimply boy walked away swiftly from the pair of sixteen year olds.

"Drake?" Harry snorted.

"Shut it!" snapped Draco angrily.

Harry raised a questioning eyebrow. "Are you friends? A Malfoy, friends with a Muggle? Where are the flying pigs?" Harry mockingly glanced around.

"Shut up, Potter," snapped Draco again, this time with a scowl.

Harry did not say anything.

Draco turned his eyes back to Potter. "Why are you here anyway, Potter?"

Harry became defensive. "You told me to sit down."

"I know that, Potter. I meant, what are you doing in this café? You must be poor to actually have to buy day old bread," he said rudely, pointing to the lump that was Harry's supper. "You look like one of the homeless people that stand outside looking for spare change every day."

Harry steepled his hands in front of his face to hide his blush. What Draco did not know was that he really was homeless.

"Don't those Muggle take care of you by fawning over the precious savior?" Draco sniggered.

"Malfoy-" Harry started, growing angry.

Harry didn't answer. He thought about telling Draco his thoughts but instead, tore off a piece of bread and jammed it in his mouth to keep from rehashing the events from earlier. What am I thinking? He wondered.

Harry asked this time, "Why are you here?"

"Nothing that concerns you," Draco growled. "And I think I asked you first."

"Why do you care?

"You don't know anything about my life, Potter. Don't flatter yourself. You're the Boy Who Lived. The Golden Boy of Hogwarts," Draco said sarcastically.

"Oh, don't I wish. You don't know about my life either, Malfoy."

"Are you going to tell me why you're here?"

"Not unless you tell me," Harry said clenching his fists.

There was an awkward silence.

"Well, I guess neither of us wants to answer that question, now do we?" Harry said, breaking the tense silence.

"No, I suppose not." Draco had noticed some a group of people in the booth beside theirs, listening, and wanted more than anything to hex them into oblivion. He knew he could not because it would blow his secret. He settled on making Harry miserable.

"I'm just gonna leave now," Harry stood up to leave.

"Wait," Draco said tensely. I'm lonely, he thought.

"Why should I, Malfoy?" Harry asked through gritted teeth.

"Are you late for a date with the mudblood? Or is it with the Weasel?" Draco relaxed slightly.

Harry turned on his heel. "What did you just say?"

"You heard me," Draco answered, suppressing a smirk.

"Yes, I did. And I'll have you know that I do not fancy either of them!" Harry's cheeks rapidly turned a color that would put the Weasleys'''' hair to shame.

"I'll bet they both fancy you. So have they adored you enough or do you need them to fawn over you some more to make up for everyone at Hogwarts?"

Harry wasn't able to hide his colored cheeks this time.

"So they do fawn over you," Draco replied smugly.

"They do not!" Harry argued feebly.

"Right. Well then. Tell me, what do you inseparable idiots write to each other about?" Draco asked, taking a guess that they did keep in touch over the summer.

"Not that it's any of your business or anything, but Hermione writes to make sure we keep up with our summer homework. Ron sends notes on all the Quidditch stats. Other than that we talk about how our summers have been."

"I see," Draco said. 'So they do keep in touch…must be nice, nothing to worry about'.

Harry noticed the way Draco's eyes flamed silver in the light. It was…interesting, the way they would glow luminescent in the Muggle lighting. Why had he noticed that?

Draco watched Harry's eyes scan him. He snorted. "Like what you see?"

"Hardly. I'm trying to figure out why you asked me to sit."

"I thought we might chat like school girls," Draco said sarcastically.

"Hardy har har," Harry said in response.

"Oh Potter, that was lame, even for you."

"I suppose Crabbe and Goyle constantly send you letters to ask your permission on everything," Harry said hastily to change the subject. "Why aren't they here?" Harry looked around, thinking they might suddenly appear.

"I could care less about where those two are. Frankly, I don't care. Maybe they're dead. It wouldn't surprise me," he said with absolutely no emotion.

"Why?"

"A lot has changed," Draco said, unperturbed.

"Fine," Harry finally said after Draco didn't continue. He didn't feel like tiptoeing around the subject. Their personal lives were not very tantalizing to him.

He decided to change the subject. He cast about for a safe subject. Quidditch couldn't cause any problems, he hoped.

"Ready to lose against me this year?" Harry asked jokingly.

"What?" Draco responded, unsure what nonsense Potter was spitting out of his mouth this time.

"Quidditch! Are you ready for the season this year? I'm captain for Gryffindor."

"How very nice. Just so happens I'm Slytherin's captain. And no, you have it mistaken. We will wipe the pitch with your bunch of misfits." Draco replied, pushing a piece of silver hair off of his face.

"You wish," Harry chuckled.

Draco sighed again. Maybe this conversation was pointless. He didn't care. He knew if he could wear Potter out, he'd agree to help. Harry changed the subject again.

"So where is Parkinson?" Harry asked glancing around for the girl that constantly flung herself at Draco.

"Off shagging some poor man, I would suppose."

"I thought you and Pansy-" Harry began, but Draco cut him off.

"Honestly, Potter, I do have morals."

"Obviously." Harry rolled his eyes.

"How would you know? How many women have you been with?" Draco snickered.

Harry's blush was an angry red again.

"Don't tell me you have never…The Boy Who Lived! A virgin?" Draco laughed at the very thought of it.

"Of course I'm not!"

"Really, so who is it that you've shagged?" Draco asked, hiding his trademark smirk.

"Why should I tell you? Just because you probably have bedded every female on the planet doesn't mean that I need to." Harry realized what he had said and blushed. An image of a scarcely dressed Malfoy in bed was quickly pushed out of his thoughts.

"Potter, I do believe you're on to something. Who thought Gryffindors were thick? How do you know it's only the weaker half of the population anyway?" Draco bit his lip. He really should not have said that.

There was a pause. Harry was confused. "What does that mean?"

"Honestly Potter, you can't be that dense."

Harry thought about Draco's words for a minute. It still didn't make sense. Then he glanced over at Draco again. His silver hair framed his face. If it weren't for his sneer, Draco would be very cute, thought Harry.

Harry hadn't admitted liking other boys to anyone, least of all Ron and Hermione. He knew what their reactions would be. Hermione would run to the library and start researching everything there was to know about being gay so she could inform him of what was 'right and wrong.' Ron, on the other hand, would flip out. His reaction would most likely involve incoherent screaming and pacing. There were going to be questions he did not want to deal with. Sure, it had been easy to be with Dean last year. Nobody knew about that fling except Seamus. He wasn't planning on telling everyone because he would have to divulge his own secret. He preferred it stay that way. He did not wish to tell them now, or ever for that matter. It just seemed easier to keep every aspect of his whole 'gayness' under wraps and live his life hidden inside the closet.

"Yes, Potter. I prefer both sides of the pool. Is that such a surprise?" He drawled casually. "Everyone finds me irresistible."

Harry looked into Malloy's eyes. "Both sides of the pool? What-"

"Honestly, how many times were you dropped on your head as a baby?" Draco cut in, feeling an overwhelming need to hit Potter for his lack of intelligence.

"I was not dropped on my head!" Harry responded with malice.

"Never mind."

Almost time to ask him.

Harry made to get up again. "I'll be seeing you around, Malfoy."

"Where's your wand? I would like to have a look at it." He knew Harry did not have his wand on him, or his wand would have vibrated to inform him of the presence of another wand. It would have been dangerous not to know.

He had people looking for him everywhere. They might have penetrated the Muggle town by now, for all he knew. The person watching him might already know where he lived. Dumbledore had never even bothered finding him. The ungrateful bastard. Doesn't care how many lives are lost, so long as he gets what he wants.

That was why a wandless Potter would be an easy trap. Dumbledore would help him, if Potter said he needed help, too.

"No."

"Why not? Afraid I might damage it?" Draco smiled inwardly at his cleverness. He had already known what Harry's answer would be.

"No."

Draco was curious. "Then why can't I see it?"

"I forgot it at home." A simple lie.

Draco saw right through it. "Only you would do something as stupid as that, Potter."

Harry glared.

"Why did you really leave it at home? With the Dark Lord after you, that would be something important, don't you think?"

"I don't bloody well care what you think, Malfoy." Harry scowled.

"I do. I don't want Dumbledore to accuse me if something happens to the precious Boy Who Lived."

"Sure."

"You should go get it. I'll come with," Draco said, gritting his teeth.

"No."

"Why not?"

"I don't need help from you, Malfoy."

"You need all the help you can get, Potter. I'd take it if I were you."

"Why would you do anything for me, Malfoy?"

"It's just my Slytherin kindness."

Harry nodded numbly. He couldn't do much else.

When Harry didn't say anything else, Draco decided to say something, anything. "Are you in?" he asked with an awkward kindness. He really wanted this night to disappear and never be mentioned again. This would be remembered as the night he made a bargain with the Boy Who Lived. He mentally shuddered at what some of his Slytherin friends would think if they found out.

'What's to lose,' Harry thought. "Deal." He held out his hand. Draco brushed it aside gently.

"I said for tonight. I don't recall saying it was a truce, Potter."

"Sorry," Harry mumbled.

They left the café in silence. Harry walked reluctantly ahead of Draco. Draco had to prod him to keep walking. It seemed that Draco was more excited to fetch Harry's belongings than Harry himself was.

"So, where are we going, Potter? Are we going to walk in circles or do you have a destination in mind?"

"Relax. I know the way to my uncle's house. Need I remind you that it was your brilliant idea?"

"And?"

"And I'm only doing this for my benefit."

"Nobody stated otherwise, Potter."

"Oh."

Silence.

"And just how are we going to climb the wall, Malfoy? If you hadn't noticed, there are bars on my window!"

Draco turned his wand on Harry. "Shut up, so I can remember the spell."

Moments later, the bars came flying down towards them. On instinct, Harry pulled Draco out of the way. He gained confidence and wrapped both arms around him, squeezing tightly. Draco squirmed. "You can let go of me, Potter! I'm not one of your dolls that you can just grab!"

"Sorry." But he was not sorry at all. In fact that embrace felt like a million burdens being released. He reluctantly dropped his arms, his left arm brushing against Draco's side. 'That was strange,' he thought. Shivers ran up and down his spine, causing slight tremors throughout the rest of his body. He felt comfort and warmth wash over him, masked by pretend anger. Why was Draco Malfoy, the one person he hated with a passion, suddenly his one comfort source? He remembered his previous thoughts, from the café, and flushed. Luckily, it was dark and Draco couldn't see this time.

"So this is…the famous Harry Potter's room. Quite small compared to my room at…never mind. Get your stuff so we can get the hell out of here," Draco said once they had made it inside.

Harry looked up at Draco. "Most of my stuff is in the cupboard under the stairs. My aunt and uncle keep it locked so I can't do magic on them or my cousin. Not that I would anyway…" he trailed off.

Draco cocked an eyebrow. "I'll go fetch it. Pack anything you need from here." He gestured majestically around the room at the broken toys and gadgets and swept gracefully from the room. Harry sat and thought about the embrace. It felt like an electric shock when they touched. He could still feel Draco's anger and inner-sorrow, but the warmth and comfort had long since disappeared. How had he been able to do that? Hermione would know, but then he would have to tell her everything. It would definitely not be the best of ideas.

Harry could hear Dudley snoring noisily in the next room. Then there was a loud crack, like thunder and he could no longer see the moon. He could hear a voice murmuring, the murmuring soon being accompanied by roaring--Vernon Dursley had found Draco. Harry rushed out into the hallway, armed with his lamp, which would probably do him no good.

He could see Vernon at the top of the stairs. He had a…gun. When did he buy a revolver? Harry racked his mind for an answer.

"How dare you enter this house? I should call the authorities, but I don't think I'll waste their time on a creep like you."

"Like you could do anything to me!" Draco shouted back.

A shot rang out. "Draco move!" Harry shouted. Draco just narrowly missed the bullet.

Vernon rounded on Harry. "How dare you return? You brought him here, didn't you? Your boyfriend perhaps?" Vernon laughed, thinking he had the upper hand.

Who knew the day would come that he would be fighting his uncle to protect his worst enemy.

"Hey!" Draco called. Vernon turned and Harry took the opportunity to hit him with the lamp. Once, twice to back of the head. Draco, not to be outdone, cast the leg locker curse for good measure.

Unconscious, Vernon fell down the stairs, crashing into Harry's trunk. The commotion awoke a very worried Petunia, who crawled out of bed to see where her husband had disappeared.

Harry spotted his wand, and disregarding the underage restriction, used magic to pile stuff back into his trunk and more to make it feather light and then again to shrink it. He then summoned the rest of his belongings from his room. Malfoy stood there, like nothing had happened-like he hadn't almost gotten killed.

With an "Alohomora" the two sailed out the door on Harry's beloved Firebolt. He took one last look at his childhood home. He couldn't stay. The police would probably be arriving soon. He didn't know how bad Vernon was hurt, but the blood on Petunia's clean tile floor was definitely not a good sign.