The pureblood snobbish part of him that still existed couldn't help being appalled at the tackiness of the neighborhood that Potter had grown up in, but he forced himself to continue until he got to Number four, Privet Drive. To his astonishment, Potter was sitting in a chair on the front lawn.

Cautiously, Draco walked up to him, wondering if Granger had been jerking him around after all. Potter appeared as though he were enjoying the afternoon sun, and then Draco looked closer.

He was slumped unnaturally in the chair, and his eyes were vacant, staring at nothing. Still, Draco couldn't resist the impulse to call out to him, as though Harry were going to answer him.

"Potter?"

Nothing. Not even a twitch of an eyelid.

"He likes to sit in the sun. Sometimes he'll even turn his face towards it," a voice said from the front stoop, causing Draco to jump in shock.

"Ah, you must be Mrs. Dursley. I'm-"

"I know who you are, Mr. Malfoy. Hermione rang me only a few moments after you left and told me that you would probably be coming round."

"Right," Draco muttered. "So you don't mind if I sit and talk with Pot-…erm, I mean Harry, for a while?"

"I'm not in favor of the idea, no, but Hermione said she'd promised to curse you into oblivion if you tried anything, so I'm not particularly concerned."

"Thanks for that," he said, unable to hold back a twinge of sarcasm.

Mrs. Dursley glared at him, oddly reminding him of Hermione Granger-Weasley. "I may not have been there for Harry while he was under my care the first time, but I am now. I'm attempting to atone for my sins, Mr. Malfoy. Are you really doing the same, or have you just come to gloat at the poor fortune that's befallen your schoolboy rival?" she said sharply.

"My motives may be selfish, but I assure you they are free from any wish to harm or make light of Harry's condition," Draco said, and again he couldn't hold back the slightest touch of haughtiness in his tone. Something about muggles, or certain ones of them anyway, just seemed to bring that out in him.

"Fine. But I'll be keeping my eye on you," she said, and with a sniff, she turned back into the house.

Draco ignored the urge to make another retort, but only barely, and turned around to look at Harry. Seeing another lawn chair propped against the side of the house, he grabbed it and set it up next to Potter. He stared hard at the boy whom he'd both hated and been obsessed with for years. A part of him wondered if maybe Hermione and Mrs. Dursley weren't right about him. Had he come here just to see his rival fallen?

But no, he didn't think so. Because Hermione was right about one other thing. He couldn't look at Potter without feeling sad and frustrated and angry about the unfairness of it all. The boy had done everything the wizarding world had asked him to do, and this half-existence was his reward for it? Draco wondered if it might not have been better if Potter really had died on the battlefield.

Pushing such morbid thoughts away, Draco spoke up.

"So, Potter, suppose you're wondering why I'm here. Well, that's quite a story, that is…"

In the following weeks, Draco became a regular visitor at the Dursley household. Mrs. Dursley eventually got over her wariness and asked him to call her Petunia. Draco didn't hesitate to allow her to return the favor, and it was only after she'd actually called him by his name the first time that he realized it was the first he'd ever heard his name coming from a muggle's lips.

Draco wasn't exactly sure why he kept going back to see Potter, but it did keep him from dwelling on his drinking, to the point where he hadn't had alcohol in over two months before he thought about it. He wondered if he was merely trading in one addiction for another, but chose not to think on that one too hard.

During that time, Ron Weasley had found out about Draco's visits to his best friend's house, and surprisingly, the explosion was brief and not nearly as violent as Draco had feared it would be. Ron had grudgingly accepted Malfoy's apology to him, although it was only after yelling for a bit and throwing one vicious punch to Draco's jaw, which Draco had decided to let go, all things considered. He also gave plenty of warnings about the terrible things that would happen if Draco ever betrayed their trust and Draco wondered if Ron and Hermione wrote their threats together as a married couple. Those that slay together, stay together? Ew, no, that reminded Draco far too much of his Aunt Bellatrix and her husband Rodolphus.

Hermione and Ron came to visit Harry a couple of times while Draco was there, but they didn't stay long. Draco could tell just from looking at the two of them, that seeing their friend like this was entirely too painful for them. So, Draco did his best to make up for their absence – and the absence of any other visitors from the wizarding world, really – by becoming as much of a caretaker to Harry as Petunia was.

She grew to appreciate this because it gave Petunia the opportunity to get a break now and then, to get out and visit her son, daughter-in-law and baby granddaughter.

He read to Harry, talked to Harry, helped to feed Harry, dressed him and had even given him a sponge bath a few times. Draco had worried that Hermione might not approve of that last bit, since she knew that Draco was gay, but he certainly didn't want to have sex with Potter right now. It would be like sleeping with a child and the very idea was abhorrent to Draco. No, he wasn't sure what it was that kept drawing him back into Potter's world, but he couldn't deny that the draw was there.

Petunia was over at Dudley's for the evening and Draco had just finished reading to Potter the play-by-play of the latest Quidditch match between the Cannons and the Falcons. He was a little hungry so he decided to fix himself a snack in Petunia's kitchen before moving on to another article in the Daily Prophet. As he walked towards the door, something smacked him in the back of the head. Startled, Draco turned and saw a doll lying on the floor behind him.

He recognized it as the doll that normally stayed tightly gripped in Potter's hand. It was just a little ragdoll, so it certainly hadn't hurt Draco but he was wondering how it had ended up hitting him when Potter usually wouldn't let go of it. Draco had asked about that and Petunia had told him that her granddaughter had left it here one day and, while looking for it, Dudley had discovered that Harry was holding it.

When they tried to take it from him, he refused to let go of it. Puzzled, but a little excited at the same time, at this tiny bit of animation in Potter, they'd let him keep it. Draco thought that Petunia, Ron, and Hermione were hopeful that this was a sign of Harry waking up. But it never happened. He'd been holding onto the doll for over a year and had never made any other sign that he was aware of what went on around him.

Draco bent down and picked up the doll, placing it back on Potter's lap before once more turning towards the kitchen.

Whap!

He whirled around so fast that he actually saw the doll hit the floor after it struck him in the back of the head. A little weirded out, Draco picked up the doll again and walked slowly back over to where Potter was sitting on the couch. Draco squatted in front of the man and studied his face carefully. To his shock, Harry's eyes shifted suddenly and he looked directly at Draco.

He was falling forward, almost as if into a pensieve, and all around him was a misty grayish-green fog. Draco stumbled, falling onto his knees, and looked around, frightened beyond anything he'd ever known. The mist slowly began to part in front of him, letting him see that he was in what looked like a dungeon, and Draco could see a dark form crouching on the floor a few yards ahead. It was a man, and Draco felt his breath quicken as the man raised his head. Draco realized the man's hands were chained together, and the manacles were attached to the floor, preventing him from moving.

His mouth fell open in a gasp as he realized the chained man was Harry.

Harry's mouth moved but Draco could hear no sound coming from him. Frustrated, Draco shook his head and motioned to his ear, indicating that he couldn't hear. Potter's jaw clenched in anger and he tried again, and Draco thought it looked like he was yelling.

Finally, Draco could barely make out Potter's words, almost as though they were whispers instead of angry shouts.

"The cursed doll, Draco."

It sent an odd thrill through Draco's belly to hear Harry call him by his given name, but he was still confused as to what Potter was trying to tell him.

"I don't understand, Potter! What does that mean?!" Draco yelled back at him.

But Potter would only repeat, "The cursed doll, Draco," over and over again. And then he just started shouting Draco's name repeatedly.

"Draco."

"Draco!"

"Draco!"

He started and looked up into Petunia's bemused face. Then he realized that it had been her calling his name and that for some reason, he was lying on the floor.

"What are you doing down there? Did you fall?" she asked.

"What? No, I didn't. I was…I was going to the kitchen and then Harry…I mean, the doll…" he looked around for the doll and realized that it was back in Harry's hand where it always was. "That was so odd," he whispered.

"What happened?" Petunia asked and she was looking at him as though she was wondering whether he'd lost his mind.

"He dropped his doll," Draco said, deciding that sounded better than admitting that something or someone had thrown it at him, "and when I went to give it back to him, he looked at me, and I had the oddest…well, I guess it must have been a dream."

"He looked at you?" Petunia said, with a strange look on her face.

"Yeah," Draco shrugged.

"You must have dreamed the entire thing, Draco, because Harry does not look at people. He never does."

"What do you mean, he never looks at people? Obviously, I know he can't communicate, but-"

"I mean, he will not make eye contact with anyone, Mr. Malfoy," Petunia said. She walked over to Harry and knelt in front of him. "Harry. Look at me, Harry," she said, but Potter continued to stare off to the left of her. So Petunia took his chin in her hand and tried to make him look at her. "Harry, look at me!"

Draco watched in a daze as Harry's eyes determinedly avoided Petunia's. Even though she was making him hold still, and putting her face right in front of his, his eyes were rolling around, back and forth and then up as much as he could to avoid making eye contact with her.

Satisfied that she'd made her point, Petunia dropped her hand from his chin and stood up and away from her nephew. "If you push it too hard, he'll actually make himself pass out so that he doesn't have to look at you. Hermione thinks that it's connected to the fact that his soul is gone," Petunia said in a monotone.

"I see," Draco whispered, and wondered if it all had been just a dream.

"You're tired, Draco. I think it's time for you to go home for today."

"You're probably right," he said quietly. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Of course."

But he couldn't help thinking of Potter, in chains, trapped in a dark dungeon, for the rest of the night. It had seemed so real…

The next couple of weeks passed uneventfully. Draco was doing very well on staying sober, and Ellie was so proud of him that she gave him a month's free rent as a reward. Draco appreciated that, because it was taking him some time to find another job. He had to find just the right one, one that would allow him enough time with his new addiction…taking care of Harry Potter. He consoled himself with the fact that at least this habit was less expensive than alcohol.

He finally obtained a position in a used book store and it was perfect, since the shop closed at five, and that meant he could spend every evening with Harry. Petunia had taken to shooting him speculative glances when she thought he wasn't looking, but he ignored her. And the image of Harry trapped, unable to break free, wouldn't leave his mind. Almost before he was aware that he was thinking it, the idea that Harry's soul wasn't gone, merely captured somewhere, began to filter through his thoughts.

Draco decided not to mention this gleam of an idea to Ron or Hermione. They'd been through enough heartache and he didn't want them to get their hopes up if he was wrong. He chuckled at the notion of a Malfoy protecting the tender feelings of a Weasley, but that seemed to be his life now, and oddly enough, he was mostly happy with it. If he could free Harry, everything would be perfect.

Wait, perfect?

Draco paused in the middle of feeding Harry his lunch as the realization hit him. He abruptly understood what was drawing him here, to be with Harry, to take care of Harry.

Draco Malfoy was in love with Harry Potter.

Well, fuck…

Still, if that was what it was, then that was what it was. It only made him more determined to break Harry free of whatever spell or curse was holding him. Because it had to be a curse, had to be something the Dark Lord had done before Harry killed him. Gritting his teeth against the anger that surged through him at the thought of that bastard getting one last blow in before he died, Draco finished feeding Harry his lunch and then moved him into the living room, so he could see the telly. Draco wondered if Harry really could see the telly and just couldn't let them know that he could.

Seeing Harry's doll at his feet, Draco reached down and grabbed it, placing it in Harry's hand absently, his mind still working around the fact that maybe Harry was aware of what went on around him, but he just couldn't let anyone know that he was. Harry's hand opened and the doll fell to the floor. Draco bent and picked it up, placing it in Potter's hand again.

Again, Harry's hand opened and the doll fell to the floor. Frustrated, because this was distracting him from his musings, Draco picked up the doll yet again and glanced up to glare at Harry.

And found that Harry was staring right at him once more.

This time, Draco was more prepared for the 'falling into a pensieve' feeling and as soon as he landed, he looked around, wondering where Harry was. There was no figure in chains this time, and indeed, he wasn't even in a dungeon. Instead, it felt like he was back at Hogwarts, in the middle of the Forbidden Forest. Carefully, Draco moved forward, wondering what the hell Potter was trying to tell him this time.

He came to a clearing, and in the middle of that clearing was a large wooden box. Hesitantly, unsure if this was a message from Harry or a trap left by the Dark Lord, Draco walked up to the box. Just as he got within a few feet of it, something inside the box thumped, causing both it and Draco to jump.

There was a muffled scream from inside the box and Draco took a step back, uncertain what he should do. Suddenly, a fist exploded through the top of the box, and Draco fell backwards with a startled cry. The lone fist was quickly joined by a second and the top of the box splintered into pieces as the person trapped inside fought their way out.

Somehow, Draco wasn't surprised to see Harry sit up and step out of the box. He stopped a few feet away from the box and turned around to give it a baleful stare. When he turned back around, Draco thought he'd never seen someone look so tired.

"I've been trying so hard to break out of there. Sometimes I can make it and sometimes I can't. But usually only with you, Malfoy. Why is that?" Harry asked, as he tilted his head and gazed at Draco curiously.

"I…I'm not sure, Harry. Is there a spell on you? Is it a curse that's keeping you trapped?" Draco asked.

Harry didn't answer him, turning his head to one side as though he was listening to something.

"Do you hear that? He's coming again. Every time I get close to getting out, he comes back and shoves me back into the box, or he chains me up again. It's annoying, frankly."

"Who is it, Potter? Is it Vol-"

"Don't say his name here!" Harry shouted as he whipped his head back around to stare at Draco.

A low rumble threaded through the trees of the forest and Harry began to shiver. "Oh, he heard you that time, yes, he did. You have to go, Malfoy, or you might end up getting trapped here, too. And then neither of us would ever get out."

"Why can't I just take you with me now? Come with me now, Harry!"

Harry shook his head sadly. "Don't you know that it's never that simple, Draco?" The rumble grew louder and Harry suddenly screamed, his body twisting as though he were in pain. Draco cried out in anger and shock and tried to move forward to get to Harry, but something was holding him back.

Potter fell to the ground, continuing to writhe in pain and Draco was shouting angrily at whatever was doing this to the man he loved, telling them to leave him the fuck alone, but it was no use.

Harry looked up at him once more and whispered harshly, "It's the cursed doll, Draco."

And then he vanished, and Draco was suddenly back in Petunia's living room, falling onto his backside, Harry's doll still clutched in his hand. He gasped, feeling like he'd just awakened from a nightmare, and he was so irritated that Harry was trapped in that nightmare, unable to escape it as Draco could.

He scrambled to his feet and rested his hands on Harry's knees, staring into that blank face.

"I'll get you back, Harry, I swear I will," Draco said, and he thought that he saw the hint of a smile at the corner of Potter's mouth.

There was no time to waste. He had some research to do.

Two weeks later, Draco was about ready to pull his hair out. He'd been to every wizarding library and bookstore in London and had found absolutely nothing that matched the symptoms of whatever the curse was on Harry. That damned doll had to be important somehow, or Harry wouldn't keep mentioning it, but whatever it was, Draco was having no luck in finding it.

He pondered for a moment if he could get in touch with McGonagall, who was now Headmistress of Hogwarts, to see if he could get into the library there. But he had no clue what he would tell her, and he didn't intend to tell anyone what he was trying to do for fear they would stop him somehow.

Then Draco felt like smacking himself in the head for his stupidity as it finally dawned on him exactly where he needed to look. Dark curse cast by a Dark Lord? No better place to find it than Lucius Malfoy's private library at Malfoy Manor.

So the following evening found Draco standing outside the gates to the estate where he'd grown up, the site of some of his happiest memories, as well as some of his most frightening. Lucius had introduced him to the Dark Lord once, not long after Voldemort's return in Draco's fourth year. It had been a defining moment, and one of the primary reasons Draco had vowed to stay completely out of the conflict between the Dark and the Light. Voldemort was certifiably insane and Draco didn't understand how his father could not see that.

He shook those morbid thoughts away with a shudder, and braced himself to enter the house. It still belonged to him, thanks to inheritance laws that dated back centuries, but that hadn't stopped the Ministry from looting every item of value that had once been inside. Oh, yes, he still owned it, but he couldn't afford to live there, nor did he really want to. Still, he knew those idiots at the Ministry couldn't possibly have discovered all the many secrets Malfoy Manor held. Even Lucius himself didn't know everything about the estate that had been in their family for hundreds of years.

But what secrets Lucius did know, he had passed down to his only son and heir. Even if the Ministry had discovered the secret rooms Malfoy Manor hid, they wouldn't have been able to gain access to them. You needed Malfoy blood running through your veins for that.

There was a potions lab, a torture chamber, several rooms filled with dangerous dark artifacts, but what Draco was interested in right now was the library. It contained numerous ancient tomes, some written in long dead languages that could never be translated.

He scanned the titles, feeling that he'd know what he was looking for when he found it. One in particular caught his eye, and Draco reached up to pull it from the shelf. Dust and the remnants of Dark magic twirled through the air as he opened it and got to work.

Several hours later, he decided to give up for the night, as his vision was beginning to blur, not to mention the fact that he feared he was going to have nightmares thinking about some of the curses he'd read in the book. Draco hadn't thought this was going to be easy, but he was bound and determined not to give up.

He spent the next month researching the books in the Malfoy library, but nothing that he could find seemed to fit the curse that Harry was under. Draco also spent as much time as he could with Harry himself, trying to get back into that in-between world that Harry was trapped in, with no luck there either. A couple of times, he tried too hard to force Harry to meet his eyes and Potter went comatose on him. Thankfully, both of these occurred when Petunia wasn't home, as Draco feared she might ban him from visiting if she found out what he was doing.

Another month went by and Draco thought he might be going mad. Perhaps he had imagined the whole thing and Harry really was beyond help, soulless and destined to stay that way forever. Sometimes he wondered if he'd really never stopped drinking and this was all just an alcoholic vision and he was about to wake up with another ghastly hangover.

He sat on the couch beside Harry, bemoaning the fact that he was useless, worse than useless even.

"I don't know what to do, Harry. I've looked and looked and I just can't find it, but my gut tells me that it's at Malfoy Manor. But hell, what if there are vaults that my father didn't tell me about? I'll never find them on my own. I fear that it's hopeless," he said with a sad sigh.

Harry's hand brushed gently against his own and Draco looked down at it in surprise, before jerking his gaze back up to Harry's face to see those green eyes staring into his.

When he fell into the pensieve world this time, it looked suspiciously like the torture room at the Manor, which somehow gave him hope that he was at least looking in the right place. He turned around, looking for Harry and gasped when he saw him in chains again, bound to one of the stone walls that made up the torture chamber.

His feet and arms were shackled, stretching him in a painful spread eagle position and there was another chain strapped tightly across his throat. Draco gave a little cry of horror and tried to move forward, but as usual, found that he could not touch Harry.

"Don't…give…up…Malfoy. I'm…counting on…you…to fix…this…you little…bastard," Harry gritted through clenched teeth.

"Nice. Insult the man who's trying to save your sorry ass, Potter," Draco retorted automatically.

A wheezing sound came from Potter that Draco thought might have been an attempt at laughter, before he sobered once more. "You've…got to…find it soon…Draco. Not…much time…left…"

His words were cut off as a garbled sound of pain was wrenched from him and Draco could see the chain across his throat tightening incrementally, cutting off his air and digging into his skin.

"Fuck, Potter! I've got to get you out of this!" He tried to move forward, but still couldn't get any closer to Harry.

"No kidding…that's…what I've…been trying…to tell you!" Harry gasped. "It's the fucking doll, Draco! The cursed-" And then he could say no more because he was screaming as all of the chains began to tighten, practically ripping his body apart. Draco screamed his name as he could see blood beginning to spurt from Harry's arms and legs and neck.

"HARRY!" he cried again and pushed forward with all his might-

-and once again found himself falling to the floor in front of Petunia's couch.

He jerked over onto his back and stared at Potter in horror. He was once again his usual self, sitting there silently like a doll…

Like a living doll!

Harry had been talking about himself, not that stupid doll that he wouldn't let go of. That was what he'd been trying to tell them all along! Hermione had even used the actual words and he couldn't believe he'd been so dense. Draco cursed his own stupidity and was ashamed to think that maybe the Sorting Hat should have put him into Hufflepuff instead of Slytherin. He leapt up off the floor and impulsively hugged Harry tightly to him.

"I'm going to save you, I swear. If only so I can smack you for calling me a little bastard."

Harry, of course, didn't say anything in reply.

TBC...