Harry Potter kidnapped by Draco Malfoy…

Chapter two

Note: Hey guys! I'm sorry, but I will not be making this slash! I'm actually only 12 years old! So, yeah…LOL…

ENJOY!

DRACO'S P.O.V:

"Good morning, Draco," said Mother when I entered the kitchen the next morning.

"Hello, Mother. How was the party?" I asked her.

"Good, Draco. Anyway, I have good news. Your father will be able to come home for his birthday!"

I stood frozen. "Really? The Dark Lord will let him?"

"I guess so," Mother said with a shrug. "Anyway, eat up," she said, pointing to my plate of food.

"Mum, can I go eat in my room?" I asked politely. "I have some…ah…summer homework to finish up for Hogwarts."

Narcissa's eyes widened. "Okay, sweetheart."

I took my plate and turned down the narrow hallway leading to the cellar.

HARRY'S P.O.V:

I heard someone entering the place I was held captive in.

I heard him speak in a rough voice, "I brought you food. I'll take the gag out so you can eat—and I wouldn't scream, if I were you. If you do, you'll die."

The person took out the silky cloth gagging me, and I said, "Are you taking me to Voldemort?"

"How dare you speak his name?" the person hissed.

"Fear of a name means fear of the thing itself," I recited. I remember Hermione told me that.

"Shut up—now, do you want to eat or not?" the person snapped.

"Can I at least know your name?" I asked with a smirk.

"Uh…Roy."

"Roy?" I asked. "Uh huh, okay. Roy, what is there to eat?"

"There's toast," the person—er, Roy—said. "And milk."

"What kind of bread?" I asked.

"White."

"Urghh!" I yelled. "No. I want bagels."

"Well, I don't have any bagels!" Roy snapped.

"Bottom feeder," I murmured. "And I don't like milk. I want orange juice."

"We're out. Toast and milk, or nothing," Roy grumbled.

"Fine, but that means you'll have to feed me because my hands are tied," I said, holding a laugh in. "A mother feeding her little baby!"

"Ugh, shut up, you!" Roy snapped. "Here, open your mouth."

DRACO'S P.O.V:

Ugh, I have to feed the stupid Potter boy. I took a piece of toast, and lifted it to his mouth.

The boy bit down on it and chewed.

"This is nasty," he said, swallowing it with great distaste. "How do you eat this?"

"Keep quiet. Do you want more?" I asked him, trying to keep my calm.

"Are you sure there is nothing else?" the boy asked.

"I'm sure."

"Fine, I'll have more, then," Potter grumbled.

I shoved some more toast into his mouth—maybe a little too much, and he started coughing.

I hit his back and he swallowed.

"Jeez, be a little more careful," Potter said through a fit of coughs.

"Fine, fine. Well, the toast is done. Do you want milk?"

"Yes."

I put the glass to his lips and let the milk slowly pour down his throat.

When Potter finished the milk, I said, "I'll be back here for dinner."

"Dinner?" he asked angrily. "You mean there's no lunch?"

"This isn't a luxury hotel!" I snapped.

"Jeez, obviously! You need to change up your brochure."

"What?" I asked.

"You know—a brochure. The thing that—"

"I know what a brochure is!" I snapped. "Anyway, see you at dinner."

"Lunch."

"No—DINNER!" And with that, I gagged Potter and stormed out of the cellar.

I can't wait till Father's birthday; I thought bitterly, Then Potter will be out of my hands!

Chapter three coming soon!

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