WHO KNEW I HAD MY ANONYMOUS REVIEWS DISABLED!?

Thank you everyone for the reviews, and the story alerts. They made my days really.

Btw, in case some of you wanted to know….

Draco is 17 years.

Harry is 16 years.

And the story is happening in the summer, which means its in the middle of July.

K? Great! - Now onward!

Oh! This chapter is kinda mixed with the tenses at times. Sorry about that. It's done with a reason though. Ha…aha…

--Chapter 2--The Dursleys--

"You have got to me kidding me" Malfoy's face crumpled with horror as he took in his temporary "home". The boy was currently standing in Harry's room, though he felt like he was in a broom shed. The only thing that broke him out of his shock was Harry's voice.

"I know I know. You Malfoys see big, and this house is probably half of your own-"

"Half!? Potter, my servants live in a place bigger than this shack!"

"Yeah well, get used to it. If I were in your position, I'd probably say thank you right about now."

"For what? You're keeping me locked up in this fucked up place! Living in closets is quite the thing for you isn't it?"

"It was actually. Mind you, it's not a glass of pumpkin juice. And it's definitely not something a spoiled rich arse like you could handle. So unless you'd want to move to my old room, I suggest you start you start unpacking. Now." And with that, the boy furiously stomped off, slamming the door shut on his way out.

Draco stood dumbfounded in the room. The hell was that for? The guy had always been a prick when he was angry, but this was something new. Potter was just lucky that Father had told him to not use magic until he was in Hogwarts. A groan slipped past him as he remembered the fact. Having just turned 17 last month, he was looking forward to using his magic at home. He would have been giving off extra work to the servants, and giving them all sorts of troubles if he weren't in this dump.

Draco glanced around the room once again, measuring it mentally and trying to relate it. It was around the size of his wardrobe really. Scoff off at that. He was going to live in a wardrobe, and with Potter no less! And yes, speaking of that, what was it the mudblood said? Living in closets…what bull.

--

Draco fumbled through his luggage, and found what he was looking for. Irately, he plopped down on Potter's bed -How on earth could anyone sleep on this thing?- and unwrapped his packaged dinner. After taking a look at the contents, he kept the bag aside. Really. It was one thing to save him from Muggle food, but what was Mom thinking, sending him sweets for dinner? She knew he didn't eat anything sugary when he was out of his usual mood. And with the way he was feeling now, even looking at sweets would make him feel sick.

Who knew unpacking could be so tiring? He couldn't even use his bloody wand. Ten inches of pure hawthorn and unicorn hair! A long sigh escaped his lips.

"Huh…never thought you'd listen to me"

Potter stood in the doorway, holding a tray of what Draco assumed was his supper. Who knew something could smell so good? Draco's exhaustion only made the despised Muggle-food seem more appealing.

"I didn't listen to you. I only unpacked so that I could move in this cramped up place"

He doubted Potter even paid attention to him. But who cared anyway? Draco glanced at the creamy soup placed beside him.

"I didn't think that Aunt Daisy of yours would take any effort for a wizard. She seemed to hate us viciously."

"It's Aunt Petunia. And she didn't make it. She'd rather chew off her own fingers mind you."

"I figured. But I still ain't eating any Muggle food"

"Well, I'm not Muggle are I?"

Draco almost choked out at that. Potter cooked? It was an obvious joke. He'd rather chew off his own fingers too if he had to eat something made by Potter. But yet, he found himself reaching towards that tempting bowl. Where had his dignity gone off to? He was being fed! (Once again,) by Potter no less! He inwardly cursed himself as the hot liquid pampered his tongue, and helplessly enjoyed the joy his tortured stomach gave off.

And most of all, he tried to ignore the over dramatic shock plastered all over the other boy's face. It most likely resembled his own expression. Here was the Draco Malfoy, drinking soup that Harry Potter had made for him.

--x--July 27, London--

It was a fact they both already knew. The longer Malfoy was exposed to this world, the more angry and irritated he grew. And that only meant bad news.

It's been exactly 4 days since the guy came to live under Harry's so called protection. And on the 3rd evening of fighting over every uttered sentence, Harry, and Malfoy, finally received some sort of contact from Malfoy…senior. Apparently, he wanted him to not stay at the house for too long. Said that moving around a bit might loosen up the atmosphere between them. Now why would he even say that? It was as clear as the air as he didn't want his beloved son around the Muggles that housed Harry Potter. After all, Malfoy did spend 4 entire days bullying Dudley, arguing with Harry, and scaring off anyone else he happened to meet.

Infact, after seeing the way he was around non-magical people, Harry could almost say Malfoy didn't mind him. The boy's comments to them were almost inhuman. The only reason he even ate was because Potter cooked, and he couldn't use magic (and didn't know how to cook either). Such hatred…it actually scared Harry at times, though he would never admit it.

And this hated of Malfoy's was probably a very strong reason he and Harry were even here. Because no matter how he spat at the people here, Malfoy wouldn't lower his pride enough to insult a complete stranger. He knew that even the muggles had prisons, and (according to Potter), sufficient verbal abuse just might land you in a cell.

Duh Harry lied. There was no other way! So now here they were, walking to the public library, where hopefully, Malfoy's attitude could calm itself down.

Harry did remember that the blond had always adored Potions, and maybe some ordinary chemistry could interest him. He'd do anything to help that vicious temper right now.

The cubed building of books came into Harry's sight.

"Here we are. Please don't expect any notes on transformations or wizarding concoctions. I'm at the brink of sanity here, and it'd be wonderful if you could just cool yourself down. I'm sorry. Really."

It was actually very wise to apologize beforehand. He knew that look Malfoy had when he spoke. After all, he saw it so many times the past few days. It was the look that indicated that Malfoy would snap and tell him to mind his own business, which would follow by a variety of insults. Basically something that was best to avoid at the moment.

Harry stepped into the library, and smirked at Malfoy's slightly astonished gaze. One, he surely didn't expect to walk through a pair of automated doors. Magic wasn't supposed to exist here (The wizarding world never needed to discover electricity when it had everlasting fires with adjustable brightness). Two, he didn't expect to walk into a place that had 5 enormous levels packed with just books. Only the Malfoy Manor was known to have such a gigantic reading area.

Harry spoke, breaking him out of his surprise.

"We'll leave as soon as you find any book you like alright?"

It was certain that Harry did not expect what Malfoy said next.

"No. I'm staying here for at least two hours or so."

--x--

Harry yawned for the umpteenth time as he felt the edge of the table print itself onto his forehead. Libraries were not for him. No, libraries were for people like Hermoine, and maybe Neville when talking Herbology. And for Malfoy too, he guessed, since the boy hadn't looked up from his stack of books of over 2 hours.

Infact, when Harry had probed on about leaving, he was soundly refused and then ignored. Curse Lucius Malfoy for his "suggestions", although he wasn't the one to take his son to a library. Harry stifled another rising yawn and read the titles of the books Malfoy had kept aside. He was right; the books were all on science, and mostly chemistry. Anyone could have guessed otherwise. Some about compounds and experiments, one about polymers, one on famous scientists, and some others on classifications and hereditary factors. The titles themselves were enough to have Harry yawning off to glory. However, that wasn't the main concern here. The key line was, 'How did this manage to make Malfoy want to read about muggles?'.

He had to admit, the world was strange. And Malfoy was even stranger.

It took him quite some persuasion to finally get Malfoy out of his new haven. Look on the bright side though. He might be carrying half the library in his hands, but at least he had a solution to Malfoy's irritation. Wait till Hermoine and Ron hear about this. And Ron especially thought there couldn't be anything more shocking about Malfoy than him eating Harry's cooking.

You could easily see it if you took the time to look at him. Malfoy was prepared. He was ready to face the disgust radiated by practically everyone around him. The only thing he wasn't ready for was Harry that night.

--x--Back at the Dursleys--x--

Draco couldn't sleep. It was never so tempting to break the rules (at least in this situation) and use a sleeping spell. How long had he been lying there? Even reading was out of the question since Potter couldn't sleep with a light on. Damn him.

What else was there to think about? Oh yes. The closet room.

Potter's earlier sanctuary really had been small. It almost made Draco feel a bit of pity for him, since he was usually used to living in such gallant atmospheres.

Since there was no room for all of Draco's reading choices in the room he and the scar head were sharing, they needed to use the closet under the staircase as a temporary storage area. When Draco had seen it, what Potter said the other day had immediately come to his mind, and he could only imagine of how Potter had stood through such horror.

Merlin, what were those Dursleys thinking? Making him live in a closet that small! Even sadism had its borderline, and they were way ahead of it.

Nonetheless, Draco didn't let any of the emotions and reactions he inwardly experienced slip out. He didn't need Potter thinking he had any pity for him. Oh wait…what was he thinking!? Pity? No, no way. The situation only seemed shocking if he imagined himself in it. But with Potter, it brought a sense of glee. There. That was much better. Pity for Potter…wasn't that a joke?

Draco would have continued this thought train if it weren't for the sudden whimper Potter made. Startled, he sat up and saw the boy sweating and shivering on his bed. Not knowing what to do, he just waited until something else happened. And it did. Potter began tossing around uncomfortably, and soon, a chain of broken words were gasped out.

"No…wait…don't! Don't…me! Back. No! No! NO!!"

At this point, Draco got up. Hate him he might, but Potter needed to be woken up.

"Some…someone…please…!" And then, Potter screamed.

Panic flooded Draco's senses. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he managed to register a Dursley's angry voice, and shouted at him to shut up, or fuck off, or both. He didn't know. His attention was currently occupied. What was he to do? The lights were on, and Draco didn't want to touch him.

So he began to use his voice, hoping it would help, but not really expecting it too.

"Potter! Wake up! Potter!"

Like he thought, there was no effect. Screw the idea of shouting out. Potter was now flailing helplessly, still shouting out. His face was sheet white.

"No! I'm sorry….too many! Cedric, Serius! Professor!"

Fear finally hit Draco. Why did it feel so familiar? The same panic, the same horror he had felt a few days ago.

The blond began to sweat himself, and memories of him crying in his mother's arms flooded back to him. The terror he felt when he found out the Dark Lord wanted him dead. He was so helpless, and so alone even though his family was right there. So much like Potter.

The bedside light began flickering. Hegwig had gone out on a frenzy long back, screeching and flapping wildly in her cage. A book fell somewhere, and overall, the scene uncontrollably went into chaos.

He had to make it stop. What was happening? Potter was screaming out names of the dead, and everything around Draco suddenly seemed so haunting.

He lost control.

Draco burst out of control and furiously shook Potter, screaming his name as loud as him, if not louder. Why wouldn't he wake up? Why was he so stubborn? It reached to the point where tears began to roll down from the hallucinating boy.

"Come back…no! Someone…someone help me!"

It was then that Draco started to punch him. He didn't know what else to do, and to be honest, the sobs coming from the dreaming boy were only making him feel even more scared. He didn't know why, and he didn't want to know why.

"You bastard, wake up already!"

A huge wave of relief crashed into Draco as Potter finally stopped and opened his eyes. The only sound in the room now was the sound of heavy breathing.

Both boys forced themselves to recover from what just occurred by greedily taking in the air around them. Time ticked past them for quite a while until one of them finally spoke.

"Th-Thanks……Malfoy."

--End of Chapter!--

Once again, constructive criticism is strongly encouraged,- not too strongly- and any questions of any kind are welcome. However, I may not answer something that reveals what happens further down the story.