Harry shivered unconsciously as he overheard the conversation with the elder Malfoy. Yuck much? Nasty old pervert.

But as he listened his ears perked up at the mention of a new concubine. I wonder who he is. It's obviously a he, and I most likely know him. Dammit! Who is it? I wish I could remember that voice!

Harry woke up and growled in frustration. If only he could place that voice! Maybe it was altered so that I could remember or place it. It would make sense if the person is willingly passing me on the visions. Hmmm…Maybe I should ask Hermoine about any spells…

He was tossed out of his musing when the whale thumped (more like flopped in Harry's opinion) up the stairs to the master bedroom. Since Vernon couldn't fit through the door anymore they had it widened to fit a small elephant across. Seeing as how that probably wouldn't take much more, Harry wondered where Vernon would sleep, although he more likely than not would kick Petunia out of the bedroom.

She deserves so much better. Sure, she's kinda OCD about cleaning, but she's not so bad, especially if you get her hair down and challenge her to a game of rummy.

Harry smiled at the memory of one of the few times he'd ever seen Petunia without her mask.

(Flashback)

Vernon had gone off to a conference for a week, and both the boys were supposed to be gone for the day. The pick up game of soccer had ended early and Harry made it back to the house in about four seconds because he forgot that he had left the cauldron bubbling.

More worried what havoc he could have possibly wreaked on the house, he stopped dead when he saw his aunt crying her eyes out with a bottle of wine and a tub of ice-cream. He sprinted up the stairs, turned off his heater and practically jumped down the staircase.

The resulting crash was loud enough to shake the house, never mind alert his aunt that he was around. Harry immediately went to her and held her whilst she cried, trying to console the only sister his mother had. After she had tried her tears, and her sobs were nothing more than shallow hiccups, she spoke so softly Harry could not make out what she had said.

"I'm sorry Aunty Petunia?"

"Never. Again."

"Forgive me for asking, but never again what?"

"Never again will I let that horrible man make me feel worthless. Never again will I let him hurt my babies. Never again."

Harry became very concerned for his aunt, and after several mintues of probing he found out that his uncle had been sexually assaulting his aunt and beating her senseless while he was drunk.

After her resolution was made, and a few more glasses of wine were in her, Harry and Dudley made dinner and afterwards they spent the night laughing away while Petunia managed to pound both teens into the dirt playing rummy.

(End Flashback)

Speaking of the woman, Harry spotted her cutting out coupons for the next day. He grinned at her and she tried to hide her smile as he poked through the fliers and demanded just about every kind of junk food imaginable.

Finally she got so exasperated as the piles of her neatly organized fliers got so messed up she laughed and sternly reprimanded him, "Harry James Potter, if you don't stop I'll tell your uncle."

He looked over his shoulder and cheekily replied, "You wouldn't dare. And I want Lunchables!"

She rolled her eyes and said, "Harry, for Merlin's sake you're sixteen years old! When are you going to grow out of those things? They are SO unhealthy for you!"

Harry mock-pouted and did his best big lip impression. "But they are so good! And it's better than Ramen"

Petunia put her head in her hands and mumbled through them, "There's no winning with you, is there?"

"Nope! I gave up a long loongggg time ago with that one. Spoiled brat always gets his way." Dudley reached up and playfully cuffed his cousin's head. Harry laughed and taunted back, "Oh yeah Dudleykins? Do you want your mommy to know I saw you making out on the front steps?" Before hilarity could ensue the kitchen door banged open with enough force for the door to leap off its hinges. As it came crashing to the floor, a hulking figure was outlined in the debris dust that could only mean one thing.

Vernon was home. Early.

Things seemed eerily quiet, no sound was made except for Vernon's raspy breathing.

"What…are you doing in here with my wife and son boy?" A deceptively calm voice shattered the thick silence.

Harry in that moment forgot how to speak, so after a few moments and a swallow he said quietly, "I was washing the dishes."

"Was I served dinner yet? I thought I told you that I would be taking dinner in my room from now on. And I thought I told you that I was to be served first. I am the head of this household, I make all the money, therefore I should get served before the lazy bitch and the no good fatty do."

Dudley's vein in his neck popped, and checked himself as he found he wanted to tear his father's face off. Harry checked in the corner of his eye to make sure Petunia who had made herself as small as possible, and Dudley who seemed pretty pissed stayed put for the time being.

Vernon said again, quietly, "Freak, why haven't you served me yet?"

Harry took his time to carefully choose his words. "I am not done preparing your portion yet. I used the slightly old vegetables and the old chicken leftovers for their meals, and I was just letting your steak marinade a bit longer, just the way you like it." Harry gestured to a large glass bowl with a two inch steak soaking in a thin meaty broth with rich spices.

"Freak, did I not say that I AM TO BE FUCKING SERVED FIRST IN THIS FAMILY?" As his yelling got exponentially louder, he moved with a quick grace that even Harry did not think was possible in a human being of that size.

He knew he had misjudged the man when he was looking at the wall and his jaw could not open. As the minutes passed, he realized that Vernon was an artist of sorts. An artist of pain. He could inflict tremendous amounts of pain, not only from his fists but with his words. He painted a picture, a red picture, he painted the walls, Harry, the table, and most of all the floor.

Just as he was about to black out he laughed and muttered to himself, heh. Anger really is bloodshed red. He was right. Kudos to him.

A very wary teen awoke thousands of miles away, hearing an echo of the message relayed back to him. He sighed softly, as Voldemort awoke and red eyes fell upon the slumber tossed body of his new pet, an angel amidst the black silk sheets.

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Lucius Malfoy is a private man. There are few that can see through his façade, and when they do it means a whole hell of a lot of trouble for them.

Usually, if they become so adept at reading him, they either end up dead, or worse, blackmailed to a point no matter how they try and manipulate the aristocratic snob they get screwed over twice as much.

Being a Malfoy, this hidden talent becomes quite handy trying to readily charm your way into the top circles of the ministry (and everyone knows Malfoy really runs the show anywho) and into the Dear Dark Lord's heart.

But this, this was slowly killing Lucius. To keep this from everyone. To have to endure this.

He strode the Malfoy Manor locking himself with the most complicated locking spells possible into the only room he felt safe in, oddly enough, a dusty old chapel. Staggering, he dropped to the floor on his knees, ignoring the protesting pain of his age, and howled in sorrow for the first time in his life.

"I cannot do this any longer. You look more dead each day. Please hold on, hold on for me. Please do it so that we may be able to conquer this evil."

His cry fell on obviously deaf ears. He curled into himself and sobbed almost hysterically. "Please…Please be strong." He whispered in between shuddering gasps.

Dumbledore solemnly stepped out of the shadows, only showing himself when the elder Malfoy had collected himself. "You know this will win the war. We need this Lucius. We have to have this happen. There are no other options. The wizarding world hangs in the balance…and only two people can change that."

Lucius glared at the old wizard. In an anguished rage he yelled, "You old miserable fool! You know what this will do to him. YOU KNOW! You couldn't just leave well enough alone. You know Potter would be fine alone against Voldemort, but NO! You put ANOTHER innocent person in danger! And you know he would do it because he loves the wizarding world! You put another BOY to slaughter!"

"Correct me if I am wrong Lucius, but the man that agreed to help our cause is no boy." Dumbledore looked at him harshly. "He knew exactly what it would entail and he is brave and strong enough to rise to that challenge. He is a powerful and intelligent man, and he is showing wisdom beyond his years by helping us. No other could do what he is doing at this very moment!" Dumbledore himself was yelling back, so vehemently that you could see the twinkle in his eyes take a more sinister, sharp light.

"You call a seventeen year old a man? One who has never had to slaughter innocent people, never had to fight for anything, innocent himself beyond comprehension? His naïveté will kill him yet! He believes that he will not get hurt! He trusts you! You better damn well be aware of that Dumbledore, because, if so help me God, he is hurt, your head will be on a platter long before Voldemort's."

Dumbledore looked at him gravely. "It seems as if you have underestimated him Lucius. He is stronger than you, and quite possibly a level match for Harry Potter. You know that his magical background precedes him with his looks and his empathic abilities. Don't you interfere when he is more than capable of handling it himself, and protecting the others, might I add? I thought long and hard before introducing this plan to The Order, and you damn well know that I would not willingly put anyone in danger."

Dumbledore blinked, and had a wand in this throat. Pale eyes burned with an icy fire the old wizard had seen maybe twice in his four hundred some –odd years. He knew, without a doubt, his goose was cooked if that young man came to harm.

o

A scream awoke Harry. Panting, he sat up sharply and noticed that he was all but drowning in black sheets. Okay, definitely not in Kansas anymore.

Watching avidly as this mysterious man gently got out of the bed, he realized that this person must be with Voldemort. Lavish dark wood, obsidian, rubies, and Persian carpets wall to wall. He's pretty loaded, when you think about it, no? Jesus, he must be richer than the Malfoy's and I combined! The man made his way around the bed to an ornate table full of breakfast foods. Eating orange slices, a house elf appeared causing the man to instantly flick open a thin paper fan.

Kreacher averted his eyes and asked the man if he required anything. As the melodic voice replied, it looked past Kreacher to a mirror. Then quickly down as this man swore harshly. But it was too late, Harry had seen him.

Harry opened his eyes wide, dazed in his bed on Privet Drive. Merlin, I think I just peed a little. Tried as he might, he could not believe his eyes when saw the reflection of a one Draco Malfoy looking right at him.

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Disclaimer: I do not own these loverlies, and if I did I'd be a millionaire.

(A/n): Now, I know that I just picked this story up from out of no where, and I realize the concern and the dismay of some of you avid fanfiction readers. This is heading towards a slash, YES. Are the characters out of character? Indeed, some of them are according to the Harry Potter Series. But to YOU that is how they are. This is how I feel they would act put into a certain situation. So if you're just going to be critical…fuck off. I accept constructive criticism and I heartily appreciate it. Agriato:D