Like Father Like Son

by WretchedWriter

Lucius Malfoy kidnaps Harry Potter from the wizarding world. In a moment's time, Draco is forced to decide whether to remain true to his family's name and honor or to betray everything he knows in order to help his archrival escape from the clutches of to

Like Father, Like Son

by WretchedScar - WretchedWriter

© October 15, 2003

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all of its entities belong to J.K. Rowling.  No infringement intended.

Rated R; SLASH; HP/DM

            It was dark, so dark.

            Harry Potter sat in the small cell, shivering from the cold; his knees were drawn tightly to his chest as he tried to hug what little warmth was left into his body.

            How had this happened?  Where were Dumbledore, Lupin and the other members of the Order?  Weren't they supposed to have prevented something like this from happening?  Nevertheless happen it did; the Order had failed this time around.

            Harry wiped at his eyes and tried to hold back from any emotion that would weaken him.  There was no way out of this one; he was right in the Serpent's den.  Looking around, he was barely able to make out his surroundings.  The walls were made entirely of thick, gray stone (except for the entryway which was composed of solid, skinny bars), no window was afforded and the floor was dirt, slightly damp from the water that ran in trickles down the unforgiving walls.

            So this was Malfoy Manor – and at its worst, too (since he was a prisoner and not a guest).  'Malfoy. . .' Harry sighed and tried to purge that cursed name out of his mind – but he could not.  All too soon, recent memories of earlier that night came flooding back to terrorize his thoughts.

            "Bring him here," Malfoy had said as two other Death Eater's dragged him roughly forward into a large room in the upper, east wing of the manor.

            Lucius Malfoy had stood there, a knowing smirk on his rather pale face.  His eyes were filled with malicious delight as the boy-who-lived was brought humbly before him.

            "I am delighted you could join us, Mr. Potter," Malfoy stated smoothly without trying to hide his sarcasm.

            Harry glared and held back from trying to spit in the older wizard's face.  He did not want to entice anyone's rage at this point.  He would save all his efforts for when he would be, no doubt, turned over to Voldemort.

            "I bet," Harry bit out.

            "Come now," Malfoy stepped forward, taking off his black glove that had hidden his right hand.  He traced one finger lightly over Harry's cheek and down to circle at his collarbone.  "I'm sure you will learn to enjoy your stay."

            Harry tried his best to swallow the bile that was rising in his throat from the rather unsavory moment that he was sharing with Malfoy senior. 

            "Don't – touch – me – like – that," Harry snarled.

            "I shall enjoy taming this one," Malfoy laughed and patted Harry's cheek.  "Take him below, there is much we have yet to discuss."

            And so Harry found himself alone (thank Merlin for small favors) and pondering the question of what was next?  Why wasn't Voldemort already waiting him?  Why were there only a few Death Eaters upstairs at the estate, guarding him and not the horrendous number he had faced in the past.  Was he suddenly less important in this war than everyone had made him out to be?

            "I could only be so lucky," Harry sighed in answer to that thought. He continued to shiver through the cold.

            Time edged by, minutes moving so slowly, hours that he was unable to track – and still there was nothing.

* * *

            "Master Draco, no – NO!" the house elf cried and tugged on his younger master's pant leg.  "You musn't go there.  Your father said no!"

            "I want to see," Draco growled, shaking his leg and trying to get the little elf to let go.  "I have to see.  Harry Potter held prisoner in my manor's dungeon," he said with a dreamlike quality.  "It's too good to be true.  It's the ultimate humiliation!  I can't wait to rub it in his face!  No doubt father is holding him to gain information about Dumbledore.  I'm sure once all is said and done he'll be gone – but for the moment – this is wonderful!"

            "Master, please don't go down there!  No!  Big trouble down there," the house elf squeaked.   "Not a nice place and more complicated than you think!"

            "For the last time, Biddy," Draco stopped.  "Let.  Go." He shook his leg harder than ever with each word.  "Before I kick you across the room."

            "Master Draco," the Elf cried.  "You is going to make big problems, sir."

            Malfoy smirked, "That's what I do best."

* * *

            Harry sniffled, sighed and gave in to lie down on the cold, dirt floor.  What would it hurt to sleep since there wasn't anything else he could do with the time that was slowly wasting away.  Folding his arms under his head, he concentrated carefully on his breathing . . . in and then out . . . in and then out . . . a little bit more . . . try to relax all known tense muscles (that would be, well, all of them) and continue to breathe . . . things would be fine . . .

            Footsteps in the distance stirred an edge of consciousness; just as quickly they stopped.  Harry bit his bottom lip and pretended to continue to sleep.  Perhaps whoever came, whether it was Malfoy or another Death Eater they would leave him to his faked sleep.

            A rock was thrown through the cell bars to hit him on the head.  So much for being left alone.

            Harry winced and pushed himself up on his elbows, blinking towards the entrance to try and discern who was there.  His glasses were filthy and inhibited his vision rather than aided it at this point.

            "Come to visit Malfoy?" Harry sneered.

            "Hello, Potter," Draco sneered in return.

            Harry tried to hide a gasp of surprise.  "Draco?  What are you doing here?"

            "I live here or haven't you noticed?" Draco sounded confused.  "Surely you haven't lost all common sense since being here."

            "I wasn't expecting you, okay," Harry said quietly.

            "Ah," Draco stated crisply.  "You were waiting on Father."

            Harry frowned and closed his eyes.  He would not, absolutely would not allow Draco Malfoy any pleasure in being able to see his discomfort.

            "My disappearance will not have gone unnoticed," Harry stated.

            "So?" Draco shrugged.  "I have no doubt that a search will be issued."

            "Your father will be caught," Harry growled.  "And thrown back into Azkaban again."

            "First off, Potter," Draco glared, his fists clenched at his sides, "He was cleared of all charges you wrought during our fifth year.  Secondly, we have more than enough secret spaces to hide you away in at Malfoy Manor.  No one will find you unless we want you found."

            "Wonderful," Harry muttered shooting a death glare at the other boy.

            "And anyways," Draco continued.

            "There's more?" Harry asked sarcastically, cutting him off.

            "Shut up Potter," Draco stepped up closer to the bars, "Or else I'll make you shut up."

            "Oh, yeah, right . . . Like Father Like Son," Harry snorted.  "Following in you're his footsteps?  How noble."

            "I am nothing like –" Draco started then stopped abruptly.  He mentally cursed himself for almost admitting too much.

            "You are everything like him," Harry growled and stood up, advancing toward where the other boy, his rival, stood at the cell bars.  "If you were in any way different at all you would have released me the moment you saw me stuck in here!"

            Malfoy paused in thought, slowly his mouth turned from a straight line back into that knowing smirk, "No, I don't think so, Potter.  Enjoy your day."

            "Is it day?  I hadn't noticed," Harry said quietly.  "Yep, hadn't noticed since it's so DARK in the DUNGEON," Harry roared.

            "Father will no doubt be back to visit you soon," Malfoy lilted.  His footsteps slowly drifted away and in the distance Harry heard a heavy, large door shut once again.

* * *

            "This is madness, Lucius!" MacNair hissed.  "You can't possibly think –"

            "Silence!" Lucius Malfoy glared, his breathing hard and heavy.  "I will do as I please.  I may answer to the Dark Lord but that does not make me his servant.  It is a trivial, fine line – an act we all know well and play –"

            "You could die for this, we all could!" MacNair glared.  "We call him Master to his face and then to turn our backs on him when alone . . . it's madness!  It's decided death."

            "With the boy in our hands, many would call us Masters," Lucius said with a silky tone.

            "The Dark Lord wants nothing more than that boy," MacNair reminded.  "He is obsessed with possessing him."

            "Yes, we do have his would-be prize possession," Lucius thought aloud, "and in doing so we also have his greatest weakness." 

            "What are you going to do with Potter if not hand him over," MacNair asked.

            Malfoy gathered his hair back and with a single black ribbon tied it into tameness. 

            "In the end I intend to use him against the Dark Lord.  But for now – I will break him," he answered, his eyes malicious with their own nature.  "And remind him that there is much I have only just begun to repay him for."

* * *

            ". . . and it is clearly know that this potion's effects include nausea, headaches, hyperactivity and something else I can't remember because Snape was busy glaring at me while I was trying to read the blackboard."  Harry sighed and flopped down onto his back in his cell.  He had gone from subject to subject, working on theories and reciting memorized lines to taking apart potions in order to try and pass time and, of course, to hold onto a bit of sanity.

            In between trying to study (and maintain sanity) his mind had been plagued with thoughts of Malfoy . . . Draco Malfoy that is.  Part of Harry was sure that Malfoy's hate didn't extend nearly as deeply as his father's did.  A small part of Harry had been hoping that Draco would have been the one to aid him in an escape even offer him a deal, a bargain that would be in the young Malfoy heir's interest (even over his father's) that would have gotten Harry out of his current predicament . . . but, no.  No, nothing like that had happened.  Malfoy had seemed delighted that someone else, namely his father, was promising to keep Harry in the dingy, dark dungeon.

            "I still can't believe this is happening," Harry sighed and stated quietly aloud to himself.

            "Oh but it is, Mr. Potter," said that soft voice he knew all to well.    

            Harry had been so busy thinking he had missed that heavy door in the distance opening, he had missed those steel tipped boots pounding out their inevitable approach.  He was on his feet the moment he heard those words though, fists clenched at his sides since there was no wand for him to grasp in his own defense.

            "Come to gloat, Malfoy," Harry glared at Lucius.

            "I've come to take a look, yes," Malfoy stated carefully.  "And for us to," he stepped forward, waving his wand and unlocking the bars – the only barrier between the two of them, " – to, well, come to an understanding, Mr. Potter."

            Harry was enraged at himself as he took an uncontrollable step backwards.

            "Are you afraid, Harry?" Lucius asked, noting the young boy's retreat.

            Harry shivered in fear from hearing his first name said from his enemy's lips.

            "No," Harry replied, his throat dry. 

            "No?" Lucius asked, sharply quirking his head to the side and advancing again.  His lips slipped into a regal, delicious smile as he noted the boy took yet another step backwards.  "Are you sure?"

            "Dumbledore will not stand for this, the Ministry . . ." Harry started, his eyes looking quickly around the room for a way out.  None was provided. 

            "Oh stop with the list of those who will save you, no one will save you," Lucius raged, taking more quick steps forward and closing the difference between them.  His hand shot out to grasp the other boys small neck and he squeezed, delighted in hearing a strangling noise wheeze out of Potter's mouth.  "The truth is you are here on your own, no one knows your whereabouts.  No one."  He pushed the boy back, watching his sprawl onto the dirt floor before him.  "I pity you, Harry Potter."

            Harry coughed and laughed.  "And vice versa, Lucius."

            "No, no," Lucius said quietly and walked toward where Harry lay sprawled.  "You won't pity me in the end."  He knelt down and ran his fingers through the young boy's dark, black hair and then raising his hand and hit him across the face with alarming strength.  "You will fear me and obey me in the end."

* * *

            Draco Malfoy paced his large, elegant green and silver room, clothed in his black, silk pajamas.  Everything tonight was annoying to him – his bed, his snake embossed rug, the walls of his room, the small light on the table, his games in the corner, the stuffed toy owl on his bed – on and on it went – it was all so annoying.  He hated being distraught, 'No, no!' his mind corrected 'ANNOYED.  I'm annoyed – not distraught.'

            He stopped pacing and sighed, moving to sit down on the edge of his bed, the sheets behind him rumpled and reflecting what had been a short, interrupted time trying to sleep – trying to fight nightmares. 

Outside a storm was raging and flashes of lighting lit up the night sky randomly and recklessly.

            Why was he distraught, er - annoyed?  Why couldn't he just rationalize it all; there had to be some reprise from the day's events, from seeing Potter locked in the dirty cell beneath his manor's floor-boards.  There was so much honor in holding the boy-who-lived captive, so much his father would gain from doing so.  'And so much would be  risked,' his mind chortled.  He ran a hand through his slick, white hair, not even musing a strand out of place.  'You know how your father is . . . what lies beneath that cold exterior . . .' his mind warned and he frowned.  No, he didn't know anything of the sort.  Nothing.  There was nothing to know.

What he did know and acknowledged was that school started in three days . . . three days . . . that was it.  He'd be returning to his studies, to Snape's guidance, to tasty and warm meals, to Slytherin, to quidditch and . . . and . . . not to Harry Potter?  There could definitely be a good side to that – he just had to figure out what that was.

            "Right, so," he started, "Slytherin will win the quidditch matches," he stated aloud to himself.  "And the Weasel and the Mudblood will constantly be in tears at his absense."  Oh yes, he could picture it all now. Yes, that would be nice.  "I'll make top marks and torture Longbottom," he snickered.  "And I won't have to worry about Potter stepping in to ruin it all," he growled.  Yes, that was right - no Potter to duel with and argue with; no Harry to glare at across the great hall or to snicker at when Snape deducted points.  There would be no Harry at Hogwarts – it would be – it would be . . . 

            "Bloody hell," Draco groaned.  "BIIIIIIDDDDDDYYYYY!!!!" he hollered for his house-elf.

            With a pop, Biddy the house elf appeared, "What is it Master, what is wrong?" he was wringing his hands and looked about ready to bash his head against the wall.

            "Where is my father?" Draco asked, frowning.

            "He's in the study, now," Biddy looked nervously around. 

            "The study?" Draco quirked an eyebrow at the little elf before him.  He waited, he watched, and sure enough the elf moaned and reached for the nearest thing (his Nimbus 2001 broom) to hit himself repeatedly over his head.  "Can't-tell-master-the-truth!  Musn't-worry-Master-Draco!" the elf roared to himself.

            "Biddy," Draco stepped quickly forward and grabbed the broom from the elf, "tell me where my father really is."

            The house elf had tears in his eyes and sniffled, "Your father is in the Dungeon, sir."

            "Thank you," Draco said swiftly and headed out of his room.

            "NoOooooOOoo!" Biddy shrieked.  "You musn't, Master!  Please!  Biddy no want you in trouble!" The elf grabbed a hold of Draco's pajamas and tried to pull him back inside.  "Wait for Master Lucius to return to his study, please!"

            "Why-" Draco asked suspiciously as he tried tugging his pajama shirt out of the little creature's determined hands.  "What's going on, Biddy?  What aren't you telling me?!"

            "Nothing sir, can't say," he wailed.  "Don't go!"

            "Let go!" Draco growled and was able to finally yank his pajama top free before storming out of his bedroom.  "I need to find my father."

            * * *

            Draco sighed and shivered as his bare feet padded across the wooden floor of the manor.  He just had to have forgotten his slippers, didn't he?

The lit candles were dim, as they normally were at nightfall, but cast enough light for him to make his way through the shadows of the hallways.

            He found himself trudging reluctantly towards the door that led to the dungeons, to the underworld he had only so recently visited.

            He quietly opened the door and slipped past into the darkness.  His bare feet were quickly growing numb from the cold and he could see the faint whispers of his warm breath appearing in the air before him. 

            Someone cried out in the distance and Draco walked faster . . . he had to be certain – didn't he?  What was going on?  He rounded the corner just in time to see his father backhand the boy-who-lived so hard that Harry's head was thrown back from the force of it.

            Draco gasped and quickly stepped back into the shadows.  He closed his eyes and tried to block out the soft whimpers that were coming from his classmate and rival who lay crumpled at his father's feet.

            Why hadn't he seen this coming?  Why hadn't he truly thought his father capable of something like this.  He had lied to himself thinking holding Potter would be simple.  That his father wouldn't give into the temptation of revenge . . . and yet his father's definition of revenge suddenly made Draco feel sick and traitorous.

            "Crucio!" his father's voice roared and he heard Potter try to scream amidst what must have been pure hell.

            Draco couldn't breathe – he couldn't believe that Potter was being tortured with an unforgivable by his father's wand.  How could he not believe it?  He had known somewhere in the back of his mind that as a Death Eater his father had done this before – had even probably killed . . .

            Draco shook his head no and tried to calm himself.  He heard Harry Potter crying in the distance and wanting nothing more than to cover his ears.  He didn't want to hear his rival cry – he didn't want to hear that weakness brought forth by his father's hand.

            'Part of you is thinking,' his mind smirked, 'who is to say that couldn't be you instead of Potter?  Oh you have seen that look on your father's face when you push him too far; you have seen the fear in your mother's eyes and you have witnessed a clenched hand raising, even though it eventually falls back to the side.'

            Draco felt his breathing become more fragile and his head spinning.  It was Potter – and he was being beaten by his father.  Pure and simple.  Outrageous.  Real.  Secretly expected.

            Draco felt his stomach clench when his father kicked Potter once in the gut making the young boy cry out again in pain.

            'Why so distraught?'  his mind continued.  'It's his right!  That boy was responsible for his sentence at Azkaban; that boy is the Dark Lord's enemy; you are to remain faithful . . . no matter what.  This should 'agree' with you!'

            "No," Draco whispered, his eyes clenched shut.  He was finding out that it just didn't agree with him like he thought it would.  It was too much.  Way too much.

            This was what Snape had warned him about – all those summers he had reminded Draco that should something ever happen, should things ever become 'too much' that he would always 'welcome' him at Snape Manor; that it would eventually come down to Draco making a choice; that choice would be pre-determined by the essence of his own soul.  Yes he fought with Potter, he dueled with Potter, he threatened Potter – but he never took it that one, single step farther.  Oh, in some moments of anger he had considered but had always told himself no.  And now he witnessed what it would have been like if he had given in to that whim, given into that darkness which he now witnessed owning his father.

He had to leave, had to escape.  The reality of it all was nothing like what he had anticipated or assumed.  Quietly and quickly he raced back out of the Dungeon, leaving the sobs and the cries of a defeated young boy who was his own age behind him the dark.

* * *

            According to the mantle clock in his room, it had been an hour since his father had last left the Dungeons; it had been another thirty-minutes since Draco had started to pack.  His hands shook with each movement and his breathing was labored from nerves. 

            "Master, what are you doing?"

            "Argh!" Draco hollered and whirled around.  "Don't ever do a silent entrance like that again!  When you enter make sure you 'pop' in on me!  And don't go banging yourself over the head for it either!  I won't have the noise!"

            "You are leaving," Biddy whispered, his large eyes filling with tears. 

            "I'm going to Uncle Severus'," Draco stated quietly as he continued to pack.  "It won't have been the first time."

            "Your father will be very mad," the elf's voice trembled.

            "Oh I don't doubt it, Biddy," Draco snorted.  "Especially when he finds out I'm not the only one who left."

            "Oh no no no no!" Biddy whined.  "He will know – he would follow you, he would punish you!"

            Draco shivered and bit his lips.  That would be ineveitable, yes.  "I have to get out of here, and I have to get Potter out of here, too.  There's no way around it."

            "The hurt boy?" Biddy asked. 

            "You know he's hurt, huh?" Draco sighed and wondered just how bad of shape Potter was in.  "Yes, that's Potter.  Harry Potter." Draco explained.

            "I know who he is, sir.  All elves know who he is," Biddy seemed giddy.

            Draco snorted, "Yet another fan.  I think," Draco swallowed.  "I think if I don't get him out, Biddy . . . my father might . . ." he closed his eyes, unable to admit it.

            "Master," Biddy started again.

            "What," Draco growled.

            "Won't master know you took Mr. Harry with you and then go after both of you at Master Snape's?" Biddy pointed out.

            "Yes, he would," Draco agreed.  "That's why I'm going to make it look as though Potter escaped.  So even if my father feels the need to," he cleared his throat, "'visit' me at Uncle Sev's – he won't be searching for Potter there as well.  We can hide Potter there."  He sighed, "At least that's the plan.  And as my house elf you are NOT allowed to say any of this to anyone, do you understand?  NOT A WORD TO FATHER OR ANYONE!  My life and – and Potter's life," he ground out, "depend on it."

            "Yes, master," Biddy nodded.  "I'll iron my hands before I say a word."

            "Good," Draco smiled.  "Now how to make it look as though Potter feasibly escaped," Draco sighed.  That was the tricky part, really.

            "Master," Biddy tugged on Draco's black sweater.  "I knows a way . . ." he stated with a trembling voice.

* * *

            "Potter . . . . Potter, get up you idiot!"

            Harry groaned and tried to open his eyes, but he just couldn't.  He enjoyed the darkness – there was nothing to hurt him there.

            "Come on, we don't have all night!"

            His head was throbbing, his ribs were grinding, his body felt beyond bruised and his spirits were definitely despairing.  Whoever was talking to him was demanding an awful lot.  Get up?  In this condition? - Ha!  Not bloody likely!  No, he'd just stay put thank you very much.

            Draco shook the injured boy once more and then sat down on the dirt floor of the dungeon, sighing.  Potter was definitely in bad shape.  How was he going to drag the poor boy all the way upstairs and to the fireplace without waking up his father in the process?

            "Potter –" He nudged the boy gently on the shoulder and frowned when Harry groaned in response.  "Potter, please.  We have to get you out of here.  Now."

            Harry slowly let those words sink in, let them push their way through the dark fog that was his former unconsciousness.  He blinked and opened his eyes, fighting not to wince at the pain of his left eye that had begun to swell shut.  He was going to leave?  How?

            "Malfoy?" Harry murmured quietly.  His voice was quiet and he was embarrassed to hear a bit of a pleading tone to it as well.  He hated being desperate.  "What are you talking about . . ." he murmured quietly through dry, cracked lips.  He sat up, groaning in response to the pain that was eating his body alive.

            "You and I are leaving.  I don't trust . . ." Draco took a deep breath and looked away as he finished, "I don't trust my father to you, quite frankly."

            Harry's eyebrows raised a bit in surprise at the other boy's words.  "Oh really," he scoffed.  "Earlier you were more than happy to let me rot here with Daddy dearest."

            "Yes, well," Draco cleared his throat, "that was then and this is now.  I'd rather not risk my father going back to Azkaban for killing you; so you see, the most logical thing to do is to get you out of his possession so there's no chance of that happening!"  'Right.  I'm such a liar . . .'
            Harry snorted, "It figures you'd have some selfish motive.  I'm sure your father will appreciate your concern.  Maybe he'll beat you as senseless as he did me in thanks for letting his treasured prisoner escape, hmm?  Or maybe you're just afraid he'll beat you anyway."

            Draco and Harry looked at each other in understanding. 

            'How the hell does he figure these things out . . .' Draco's mind roared.  'He's too damn smart for his own good.  Some days I really do hate him . . .'

            "Oh just shut up and get up, Potter," Draco glared reaching out to try and lift the other boy up.  He grasped Harry under the arms and hauled him to a standing position.

            Harry wasn't ready for the sudden lifting and cried out as his ribs, which were no doubt broken, were jostled in the process.

            "Sorry!" Draco stated quickly, paling. 

            "Where is Mal-" Harry started but realized there would be some confusion there.  "Where is Lucius," he stated more definitely.

            "Father is asleep now.  Biddy, my house elf, is keeping watch.  She's loyal to me and only me as she was given into my possession as a birthday present by my Mother."

            "How lucky for you," Harry rolled his eyes.  "Your own personal slave.  It fits with your lifestyle.  And where is your mother lately?"

            "I'm going to ignore that smart-ass remark, Potter," Draco glared at Harry and threw his arm around the other boy to try and walk them both forward towards the way out.  "Mother is in france with her sister."

            "You know, your father is going to undoubtedly notice I'm gone," Harry pointed out, taking small sharp breaths from the pain the movement was causing him.

            "Yep," Draco stated with glee.

            "And you're happy about this?!" Harry turned his head to study the other boy with amazement.

            "Well, you see my dear Potter.  He may notice that you're gone but he'll have no idea that I was the one who intentionally got you out."

            "You're stressing the word intentionally.  Alright – I'm curious - how are you going to manage that?" Harry inquired, curious.  "OW!  Watch my side."  They started to climb the long stone steps that led towards the main level of the manor.

            "Shhh!" Draco glared.  "It's quite simple really," he whispered.

            "Oh yes, these things usually are," Harry whispered sarcastically back.

            "You see – I send you off tonight to Professor Snape –"         

            "I'd like to go back to the dungeon now –" Harry cut in.

            "-Father will be in for a rude awakening today.  He'll still be asleep when I go down with Biddy to check on you.  He knows I'm rather smug and curious that you're our prisoner, so my going back down won't be odd in the least sort.  I was rather thrilled to know we had captured you."

            "Gee, thanks," Harry rolled his eyes and continued to try to get his body to move less awkwardly as he and Draco ascended the stairs.

            "We'll wake him up with a commotion – he'll come racing down to the dungeon – see you gone, see me injured . . "

            "Injured?!" Harry asked alarmed.

            "Nothing serious – but injured nonetheless . . . it has to be convincing," Draco pointed out.  "Oh don't be such a wuss, Potter!"

            "I am not a wuss, Malfoy," Harry growled.  "If you haven't noticed I'm the one who's really injured and you don't hear me complaining overly much."

            "Okay, so you're special," Draco stated sarcastically.  "Anyway, like I was saying . . ."

            "Unbelievable," Harry muttered.

            "I'll tell him that I went in to check on you as I thought you were dead – just lying there like that all injured and what-not, that you overpowered me by the element of surprise, stole my wand and made an escape before we had a chance to alert him to the goings on."

            "There are some serious flaws to this plan, Draco . . ." Harry pointed out.

            "I thought Granger was the perfectionist," Draco retorted.  "Anyway – he'll be rather upset no doubt – but he won't be able to blame me entirely.  I'll then say that I feel rather badly about the whole situation, need some time away and want to go see Uncle Severus'."

            "'Uncle???'" Harry was surprised.

            "Well he's really my godfather –"

            "That explains all those points to Slytherin –"

            "-but I call him Uncle."

            "Poor you," Harry jibbed.

            "Shut up, Potter."

            "Does 'Uncle Severus' know I'm coming?" Harry asked.  They stopped to rest at the main door at the top of the stairs.  He felt awkward having to rest most of his body against Draco's for support but there was no other way he was going to be able to remain upright if he didn't.

            Draco could feel Potter leaning into him and he held onto the other boy, supporting him in hopes that he would regain a little bit of strength.  He welcomed the warmth of the other boy's body after the coldness of the dungeon that had surrounded him earlier.

            "Um, not exactly –" Draco stated quietly.

            "WHAT?!" Harry remarked.

            "SHHHH!" Draco glared. 

            "You expect me to just floo in on Snape like this?!" Harry accused.

            "That's the plan."

            "You suck at plans."

            "Well it's worked so far hasn't it?!  Without me, your sorry ass would still be in the dungeon waiting on my father to finish you off," Draco spit out.

            Harry frowned and lowered his head, unable to say anything.  He did owe Draco something for getting him out of his previous hell.  There was no doubt about it that the boy was taking a great risk in releasing him.

            "I'm ready, oh great leader" Harry stated.

            "What?" Draco asked, blinking.

            "Let's go," Harry nodded.  "I want out of this hell-hole."

            "It is not a hell-hole," Draco snarled.

            "The room I was staying in was definitely not four stars, Draco –" Harry pointed out.

            "Do you always have a pointed to make?" Draco hissed back.

            They looked at eachother.

            "Oh shut up!" they both said at once together and ended it there for the moment.

            They continued on further, pushing open the door and quietly working their way towards the fireplace.

            "Just a little farther," Draco was starting to sweat, he too was becoming rather tired and clumsy due to having to help Harry carry his weight as well as his own.

            The darkness around them continued to grow and it was all they could both do to keep from just falling to the floor in surrender.

            "I – can't –" Harry wheezed out and fell onto Draco, his strength, what little had been regained, finally giving out.

            Draco tumbled off to the side as Harry's body slammed into his; thinking to stop their fall Draco reached out, his fingers and the rest of his body colliding with the grand piano that sat so elegantly by the large fireplace that was connected to the floo network.

            A chorus of baritone notes escaped into the darkness, their scattered song ringing out across the dead quiet of the huge mansion.

            Harry and Draco's breaths worked together in quick succession – in panic.

            "Uh oh," Harry moaned.

            "Oh shit," Draco clarified.  "Quick, Potter.  Change in plans – we're both going together!"

            "I told you your plan sucked!" Harry roared.  "OW!" he groaned as his injured body was practically dragged away from the piano and toward the fireplace. 
"Where's Madame Pomfrey when you need her," he moaned.

            Biddy suddenly apparated into the room, his eyes huge with what was no doubt fright, "Master – trouble –" He covered his eyes with his hands and then as quickly as he came, was gone in another 'pop'.

            The piano notes still seemed to extend into eternity, their sound slowly, every so slowly, diminishing back into the nothingness from which they came.

            Draco grabbed a handful of ash from the pot that lay at the fireplace's entrance.  "We'll have to floo elsewhere . . . can't risk Snape with this right now . . ." Draco stated out loud, his face rather flushed with worry.

            The room they were in was suddenly filled with bright light and only ten feet away, in the doorway, clad in black silk pajamas stood the master of the household, wand in hand, rage and utter disbelief etched on his face at seeing his son aiding his enemy.

            Draco looked up, still holding onto Harry, his chin raised, "Well, hello, Father."

TO BE CONTINUED