A week slowly passed. Malfoy Manor was large and not surprisingly spacious. Everything was either a family heirloom or extremely expensive. Harry tried to break as much of it as he could, while making it seem like an accident of clumsiness. So far it was two china plates and an old Chinese vase. He was feeling quite proud of himself, actually.
There were times, however, where he was locked in Malfoy's room for long periods of time. Draco's room wasn't the most terrible place to be locked in, actually. It was large, with a big bed, a large wardrobe, and a window seat. It even had an adjoining bathroom. When he was locked here, Harry usually liked to lounge on the extremely comfortable bed, or curl up on the window seat and sleep. He loved sleeping even more now, mostly because while he slept in the day time, he didn't have to put up with anyone's crap, and when he was awake at night, he still didn't have to put up with anyone's crap.
Except for the house elves. They didn't like him very much.
Draco proved to be a kind master, much to Harry's shock. He never bothered Harry when he was in a tail-lashing, I'm-going-to-tear-everything-up mood, getting the house elves to repair whatever he destroyed with his claws. When the Slytherin read in bed just before going to sleep, he welcomed Harry to share the bed with him rather than pushing him off.
It wasn't like Harry wanted to share Draco's bed, but it was comfortable, and it wasn't like Draco knew who he was, so what was the problem? It became a ritual, where Draco would get ready for bed, shut off every light in his room except for the one on his bedside table, and crawl underneath the comforter with whatever book he was reading now. The lamp cast an orange glow around the room, softly lighting the bed and creating deep shadows in the corners. Harry would jump down from the window seat, tired of looking at the blackness outside, and jump onto the bed.
Draco would ignore him, propped up on pillows and book already open. Harry would slowly inch closer, hesitant, before curling up next to Draco's ribs in a ball with his back pressed firmly against the warmth. Draco's eyes wouldn't leave his book as he reached down to settle one hand on Harry's head, scratching behind his ears sometimes and sometimes just lying there, a comforting weight that Harry found himself welcoming.
Naturally, things hadn't started out that way, but Harry was coming to like it. He'd kind of decided to be a cat for a while, if only to not have the responsibility of saving the world from Voldemort. Draco fed him tuna and milk, and sometimes Harry couldn't even identify the things he was ingesting, save for the fact that they tasted good. Harry took to riding around on Draco's shoulder, memorizing the Manor for later night-time excursions.
At night, Harry stalked around the Manor, enjoying exploring. He could go anywhere he liked, but he'd learned not to enter Lucius' study under any circumstances. It wasn't that he wasn't allowed, it was just that Lucius liked to paralyze him whenever he went in, taking amusement in this. Whenever he went outside, he liked to terrorize the white Peacocks that wandered the grounds, chasing them around and delighting in their panic.
Attempts had been made to transfigure the necklace, Lucius and Narcissa being the ones to try, seeing as Draco couldn't do magic outside of school and Lucius didn't want the Ministry at Malfoy Manor. Nothing had worked. Draco wasn't complaining. He often confided in Harry, telling him things Harry was sure he wouldn't say were any other humans in the room.
It was a Saturday, exactly one and a half weeks after Harry had arrived at Malfoy Manor. He and Draco were in the library, a jar of peanut butter in Draco's lap and a book in Draco's hand. Draco had learned very quickly that Harry loved peanut butter. Harry sat beside Draco, purring happily as the Slytherin dipped two fingers into the jar and offered it to him.
Harry began to lick the peanut butter off, pausing every once in a while to smack his lips and make sure that all traces of the treat were gone before lapping at the glob once more. Draco began to talk while Harry was eating.
"Father wants me to become a Death Eater." He started quietly. Harry tried not to pause and act like a normal cat while he gathered information on this. "I don't want to be one. But if I refuse, I don't want anyone to get hurt because of it. I don't know what to do anymore. Mum won't refuse him, so what can I do?"
Draco fell silent after that tidbit, leaving Harry reeling. Draco was not at all the person Harry had thought he was. That not only confused but scared him, catching him off guard.
That wasn't the only time Draco confided in the cat he knew as 'Dante', but all other instances were insignificant.
Harry finished his peanut butter in silence, happily lapping at Draco's fingers even after all trace of the peanut butter was gone. Draco pet his head, and Harry decided to act on impulse. He stood, putting a paw on Draco's chest. When the blonde didn't react, Harry stepped fully onto Draco's chest.
"Dante, what're you…? I'm trying to read, y'know." Draco grunted, raising an eyebrow.
Harry merely lay down on Draco's chest, turning on his side and purring loudly. Draco needed some sort of reassurance, and it wasn't like he was going to get it from his parents. What Harry saw was not the snarky Slytherin who threw insults like party favors. He saw a little boy who was lost and alone. And they were kind of friends now, even if Draco didn't know he was Harry.
That night, they fell asleep like usual. But when Harry woke up, Draco was not there. Harry stretched, arching his back up towards the ceiling and stretching his toes out, extending his claws with a wide yawn. Relaxing, he meandered off to find Draco. It must have been noon time. At least, if the sun had anything to say about it. Harry had slept longer than usual.
Yelling met his ears, and Harry sped up. He trotted into Lucius' study, ducking to avoid any spells that may come his way. But there were none. Harry froze. Lucius was standing over Draco, who was on the floor gasping for breath, holding a gash on his ribs, his pale arms peppered with bruises. Harry didn't know what to do. Lucius was saying something, but Harry didn't listen. Draco… Draco was hurt. Draco was crying.
"Get out of my sight, you waste of oxygen." Lucius hissed, venom dripping from his voice.
Draco got up and ran from the room, right past Harry. Harry ran after him, sprinting as fast as he could go. He barely got into the Slytherin's room before he closed the door. Draco disappeared into the bathroom for hours. Harry would have thought that Draco was going to drown himself until he heard the shower go on. At least a person couldn't drown themselves in a shower. So he settled down to wait.
Draco came out of the bathroom feeling a little bit more composed. It wasn't the first time his father had beat him, and he doubted it would be the last. He sniffed, drying himself off and crawling into bed, ignoring what time it was and the fact that he wasn't wearing anything. Dante jumped up on the bed beside him, meowing and rubbing up against him. Draco took it as the usually anti-social cat trying to comfort him, and snuggled into the cat's fur. He didn't say anything. He couldn't.
oooOOOooo
The day came that it was time to get on the Hogwarts Express. Draco's trunk was packed, Dante was in his cat carrier (Albiet to the cat's disdain) and he was sitting in the Prefect's compartment on the train. Dante glared down at him from the luggage rack, hissing occationally and lashing his tail against the wicker. Draco crossed his arms over his chest, ignoring it. Harry Potter was missing. That posed a problem for Draco.
And not only because of who his parents were. With his rival gone, Draco would fade into the background of Hogwarts school. Not only that, but… Draco might maybe have had a bit of a crush on him. At some point, hate had become obsession, and obsession had turned to affection. He was worried. He could only pray that the Dark Lord had not gotten to Harry and killed him already. Then again, the papers would have had that, too. Voldemort would want everyone to know that their Chosen One was dead.
The Granger girl and the Weasel entered the compartment, taking seats as far as they could manage from Draco, who was sitting by the window. Pansy was apparently in the other Prefect compartment, then. And Draco was stuck with these two. Great. He decided to ignore them instead of starting something. He just wasn't in the mood.
Thankfully, they didn't say anything to him, either. About halfway into the trip, since Draco was already in his robe, he took Dante down instead. The cat seemed to have calmed down a bit and was staring at the Mudblood and the Weasel. Draco pulled him out of his cage, pulling cat treats out of his pocket at the same time to keep the cat's attention.
Dante clawed his way onto Draco's shoulder, as per usual, settling there and daintily eating the treats that Draco gave him while never taking his eyes off of the two. Draco wondered briefly if there was something wrong with him, but quickly decided that there was not.
"Where'd you get the cat, Malfoy? Didn't you have an owl?" The Weasel snarled, glaring accusingly at Dante, who rested his head on top of Draco's.
"He died." Draco grunted. "Look, Weasel, I'm really not in the mood to start bickering with someone of less wit than I, so do kindly shut up."
The Weasel's ears went red with his fury. The cat in Granger's lap, a big orange beast, was staring at Dante. Dante stared back. The cat meowed, and Dante meowed back, as if he wasn't sure if he could. Draco pet Dante's head, scratching his ears and causing a purr to rumble up from the cat's throat. Nothing was said for most of the trip, until Granger finally spoke up.
"What's around his neck?" Draco blushed slightly, turning away.
"It's a necklace." He muttered. "He came with it."
"So you've got a pouf cat?" Weasel snickered. "That's hilarious!"
Scowling, Draco took out his wand and tapped Dante's necklace. It suddenly transfigured into an orobouros, an Amethyst in the snake's eye and it's scales encrusted with diamonds. It seemed to ripple whenever Dante shifted around, catching the light in the compartment. Naturally, Draco was surprised, as his parents attempts had failed. But he didn't let it show, because Malfoys were never surprised.
"Not at all. I just wasn't allowed to transfigure it until I got on the train. And you would know that, Weasel, if your family weren't uneducated cavemen." Draco sneered, glaring at the Weasel. The mudblood looked like she was going to throw a fit.
The Weasel got up, nearly frothing at the mouth. He drew his fist back, and Draco was expecting a punch to the face. But Dante stood, running up the Weasel's arm faster than any of the three could process. Dante scratched his face before jumping onto the seat, from there to the floor, and back into Draco's lap before leaping nimbly to Draco's shoulder. Blood welled from the cut on the Griffindor's face, and he seemed stunned for a moment, looking like a slack-jawed idiot. Which, in Draco's opinion, he was.
In the end, they all settled down for a nice long ignore each other session, though the Mudblood and the Weasel talked in hushed voices. Draco pet Dante affectionately. The cat had protected him fiercely, and Draco felt cared for for the first time in a very, very long time. Dante crawled from his shoulder to his lap, tucking his front paws up underneath his chest as he lay there, back to the rest of the compartment. Draco bent down as he scratched the top of Dante's head, whispering in a dainty black ear.
"Thanks."
Hope this chapter wasn't too short for y'all. I got such positive responses (i.e, a lot of favorites X3) that I just had to upload another chapter tonight. Like I said before, still open for suggestions or ideas! And thank you all so much for reading and liking this enough to favorite it! X3 I ran around screaming my head off with happiness, no joke. Happy Independence Day!
