Plot: When Draco's parents are killed by Voldemort, Dumbledore sends both him and Harry to a secret place, to keep them safe from the Dark Lord. What happens when Harry discovers the blonde's darkest secret? Slash. Drarry. Harry's POV. Hurt Draco/Protective Harry.

Note: This is my first drarry, so don't expect too much! :D

Please keep in mind that I'm French, hence the English mistakes! ;)

THE SECRET COTTAGE.

CHAPTER 1.

I put the picture of Hermione and Ron back on my bedside table and something tightens in my throat. I should be spending the summer holidays with them. At the Burrow. But I'm stuck here with Malfoy instead. Until next term. And that's probably going to be the longest summer of my life.

Dumbledore's idea...

Against all odds, Voldemort killed Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy nearly three weeks ago. I don't know why, Dumbledore wouldn't say much about it. All I know is Draco managed to escape through a portkey his parents had placed in the family house. Anyway, Voldemort now wants him dead and in order to keep him safe from the Dark Lord, Dumbledore decided to send him to a secret place for the summer. Except he didn't want him to be alone...

Oh, I wouldn't complain about the place. It could have been a lot worse. We could have been locked in some dungeon somewhere. Instead, we are staying at a small but cosy cottage lost in the open countryside and surrounded by strong protective spells. I have no idea where we are exactly. Wales? Cornwall? Maybe we're not even in England. Dumbledore wouldn't give any indication. He believes that if Voldemort enters my mind once again, it is safer if I don't know where we are, that'd make things more difficult for him to find us.

Anyway, it's been two weeks now and I'm so bored, I'm starting to think I'd rather be at the Dursley's. Sure, they spent their time yelling at me, but at least, they did talk to me.

Malfoy doesn't say a word. He spends most of his time in his bedroom. Sometimes in the garden, against that old oak tree that must be older than Dumbledore himself.

Not that he hadn't warned me. We were here for less than two minutes when he told me "Don't touch any of my things. Don't even talk to me. Just pretend I don't exist and I'll do the same. Is that clear, Potter?"

Well, at least, that set the tone.

So I spend my days wondering what the others are doing, wondering if everyone's ok as we're completely cut off from the outside world. I can't write to Ron and Hermione, nor can I receive owls or anything. We're not even allowed to do magic.

A soft sound takes me out of my torpor. I put my ear to the wall that separates me from his bedroom. Choked sobs. He is crying. Again. Same thing every night since we arrived here. I can't blame him. We now have more in common than I would ever have imagined.

The sobs escalate. They're stronger than usual and I just can't stand them anymore.

I slip out of my bed and get out of my room.

I hesitantly knock on his door. No reply. Never mind, I don't need his permission.

"Fuck off, Potter!" he yells as I enter his room.

I expected no less from him.

"You do know how to make people feel welcomed, don't you?" I scoff.

"What part of fuck off' you don't understand?" He snaps.

He's lucky I'm a stubborn git.

"Look, you can call me all names if you want, I don't give a fuck. I just won't let you cry alone one more night. Did you think I didn't hear you every single night?"

"I wasn't crying!" He protests in a cracked voice.

I walk toward the bed, turn the bedside lamp on and look at him, sitting huddled on his bed. I lift his chin up. His eyes are red and puffy, and his cheeks are wet.

"No, sure," I say softly.

He frowns and slaps my hand away.

"So what? It's none of your business! Just leave me alone, Potter!" He screams, quickly wiping his tears away with the sleeve of his dark green pyjamas.

He should know by now that I rarely do what I am told to.

"I think I can understand, you know..." I tell him as I sit on his bed.

"No, you can't!" He shouts. "You still wore nappies when yours died! What do you really remember about them, huh? And I'm not talking about the things people have told you about!"

I clench my fists and I refrain from punching him in the face.

"Don't want to be helped? Fine! But just quit whining so that I can sleep in peace!"

I am boiling with anger, but the thing is I don't know whether I am mad at him because he annoys the hell out of me, or because he told the truth to my face and it hurts so much.

"Potter!" I hear him call as I put my hand on the door knob.

I turn around.

"Stay..." he whispers, avoiding my eyes, "please..."

His voice is nearly pleading, and he looks so lost and miserable that I decide to put my hard feelings aside. I let out a sigh and sit back on the edge of the bed.

He keeps staring at his feet, and I observe him. The white light of the lamp makes his skin look even paler. His blonde hair is tousled and his bangs, wet from perspiration, cling to his forehead. I have to fight the urge to push them away from his ice-blue eyes.

"The nightmares," he finally speaks, "do they ever stop?"

I open my mouth, ready to lie because I don't really want him to feel worse, but he deserves the truth, after all. I shake my head with compassion.

"No... Not really..."

He nods and silence falls again.

All I can hear is his breath, slow and deep, and it somehow relaxes me. My eyelids become heavier and heavier, and soon, I can't keep my eyes open anymore...

Thanks for reading! Reviews are welcome! :)

Published on August.16 2011