Okay... thought I was being a bitch for not writing so I descided to TRY to re-write my third chapter. You all BETTER review!

By the way, I know my writting is probably suffering majorly from this being on a keyboard and if anyone pinpoints a spelling or grammer error that I do not mention I know, please tell me so I can fix it and not look so much as a fool!

Also, I answered a question in a review the other day that was asking if Draco was a proper werewolf. If anyone else has this question I'm going to answere it now!

Draco is NOT a proper werewolf YET, but he will be after his first full moon. If you mean him being able to change completely and at will or being able to turn other people. He is still a human pretty much and only gets close to changing when he gets frustrated or angry, which I did because it will play an awesome part in both this chapter and the next.

WARNING: This chapter will contain the beginnings of shonen-ai and some profanity (as in words) just for those of you that care...

If anyone is reading this, I am so SORRY for the delay! I feel so guilty for making my avid readers wait...TT...

Anyway... On with the story. Sorry all.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter... If I did I wouldn't have to wait four months to get my own new computer...--

...

Chapter 3: Let Sleeping Dogs Lie...

Harry hesitated at the door of number four private drive, feeling the hair on the back of his neck rise with adrenaline. He new that the residents of the house were most definitly asleep. The moon hung at a slight hundred degree angle in the sightly clouded violet sky and the street was coated in a thin layer of snow. He knew it had to be atleast three in the morning. A relief, he had taken perfect advantage of his day of bitter cold freedom.

His hand closed around the door handle, he wiggled it once, testing to see if it needed to be unlocked. Just as he had expected from his paranoied relative-nots, it did. He griped his wand tightly in his hand, the groves fitting into his palm almost perfectly. "alohamora" he muttered, touching the tip of the wooden instrument to the lock. There was a destinct metalic click that made him shiver instantly. It was so loud! Of course, it was probably only loud to his ears. Certainly a little click couldn't have awakened his snoring uncle and cousin.

Harry took one last second and tested his ankle. He had traveled around town that day and stoped off at a pharmacy to buy a brace to help it heal back correctly, and it had helped his limp very well. It still felt fragile, but it was only cracked a hairs length, or that was the diagnosis of the all too helpfull girl at the pharmacy. She had practically thrown the brace at him when he said he had just fell down the stairs being a clutz. She had rolled her eyes in disbelief and checked his ankle, in the process finding many hand shaped bruised littering most of his body. He didn't answer her question about his name.

He willed his hand to grip the knob again, fingers shaking. He slowly twisted his hand, hearing the click and creking as the door swung open. Crrrreeeeeeeaakkk! He thought he would wake up every house hold on the street! This was suicide! why didn't he just wait until morning came? Better yet, why didn't he just run on back to Hogwarts? He could deal with being a coward, he could deal without sleeping on bruises on top of bruises.

No, he had to stay. He had to, under law, until he was twenty. Why trouble Dumbledor with the details of guardianship? Not that the Dursleys would fight for him.

Harry finally stepped cautiosly into the house, feeling the warmth sting his frozen cheeks. He genty shut the door. The sweat on his neck and back suddenly felt claimy. He gripped his new sweater, one that was actually his size, closer to him skin, feeling immediatly aware and self conciouse. He tried desperately to be lighter that a feather, and quieter than such. He tip-toed across the floor, inches closer to his safe haven with every moment. He carfully stepped over ever creaky board.

There was a sudden pattern of LARGE foot-falls behind him. Harry froze. "POTTER!!"

Harry turned ridgidly, eyes wide, just in time to get banged against the wall as a sausage-like hand closed through his hair. It, for some odd reason, made him remember a quote from a comedian he had seen in the tv sellers window that day, Bill Engval, from what he could recall, it went: 'The eggs come from real chickens. The milk comes from real cows. The sausage comes from Jimmy Dean.' He had yet to see the point.

The mans repulsive face brought Harry back to reality. His skin in the light from the window looked like a chalky maroon on the verge of purple. Sweat ran down his chubby no-neck and his forhead glistened sickly. His teeth, bared through his fat lips, were a shining yellowish color, and his breath was posibly the most disgusting thing about the entire man. Vernon shook his fist, taking Harrys' head ricochetting against the wall.

"DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW LONG I'VE HAD TO STAY UP WAITING FOR YOU TO COME BACK, YOU STUPID BOY?!"

Harry did his best he could to not wince at the stinging on his tortured scalp, keeping his eyes on his uncle. "So sorry." He muttered sarcastically.

The blows began...

--

Harry shifted uncomfortably inbetween a confused haze and a painful reality, already aware of just what would happen if he tried to move too much. But he was just beginning to remember just why that was fact. He shifted again, stretching his back muscles in a cat-like arch, testing his apparently swollen bruises. His head shoved unexpectedly into the wall. This confused him. Harry's hole was like a large (or considered large) rectangle. He slept fitting himself partially scrunched longways. Now he was curled up with his legs tucked up to his chest and his hands just under the light in the crack of the door. He immediatly pulled them out, not particularly partial to having his fingers smashed under the feet of the legged whales, or under the stilletos of a certain pointy pencil out for vengence. Harry's head ached as he winced at the memory of the previous night. Now he saw the reason for his scrunched position, he had been shoved in.

Harry moaned quietly, painfully. So his freedom was done. Now came the after shock, his payment for the escape from the Azkaban wannabee. He reached up with one of his hand, feeling the motions effect on his shoulder, and tested the doors handle, was he locked in? Did he want to go out?

It was unlocked.

Harry was suprised. Usually after a stunt like that he would be punished and then locked in the cupboard for a week at a time, being fed only after this. Now he was faced with the opportunity to decide. Was it some sort of trick? A trap to more beating? No, he had to say that the best comparison he could make to the Dursley men and women where whales and a pencil, but they were not smart as such. Perhaps they just had a bunch of work. Or maybe the reason was that their aunt Marge was coming in that day to celebrate the holidays. She still had yet to recall being turned into the worlds first living blimp. The woman may have thought that this form of punishment was perfectly exceptable, but the people she gossiped to might have not thought as much. The last thing the Dursleys wanted was the police or anti-neglect people sniffing around. Harry didn't much favor it either.

He finally decided to open the little door to the brightness of late morning. He squinted, aand though unable to see, could here his guardians minus his cousin, who would be asleep at this time, discussing something in the dining room/kitchen. He could hear the clatter of his aunts supposedly pricey shoes against the lenolium floor. She was all dressed up with nowhere to go, Harry thought with a grim smirk.

" Yes, we should definitly invite them to the neighborhood-" Vernons' voice caught Harry's horrified intrest. Vernons voice seemed to carry a deeper meaning.

" I hear they're very rich from the rumors-" Petunias' voice agreed. "It would be good to have them on friendly terms, don't you think so dear?"

Harry scrambled to his feet, remembering only just in time to be gentle with his still healing ankle, and to feel the true damage caused to the rest of his body. But that didn't matter. NO! No they can't be talking about-

" Yes, apparently their named the Malfoy's. Have you ever heard of it before?" Petunia asked casually. Harry's hand reached the threshold of the opening stiffly.

Vernon paused, obviously racking his brain to remember their new IMPORTANT neighbor. He answered half heartedly. "Yes. Yes, I think I have. I'm not sure where though." It was obvious that he hadn't. how could word have gotten out about them being so rich within one day? And with the house that they had rented? Harry broke through the opening, gaining startled and disgusted glances from his guardians.

"Don't come barging in here as if you live here or something , boy!" Vernon spat angrily. His face looked strangely less horrific in the morning light. But not at all less ugly. A bowl of simple cereal sat before him, but not a normal sized bowl, it was a large glass one that was usually used to mix ingredients for baking goods in, and to prove just how large he was, it was filled to the brim.

Though that was probably the most ignorantly stupid sentence Harry had every heard, he said nothing to it, knowing for certain that it wouldn't be the last thing that he felt reason to skoff at. Plus at the moment he had greater worries.

"You were talking about the neighbors, what of them?" Harry asked through his constricted throat. He looked back and forth between the two puckered faces, gaining a headache at the quick motion.

" And what business is it of yours? As if you have anything to do with them, worm." Petunia hissed, clicking around the kitchen, cooking, an action she only did when important visitors were coming, mostly because she didn't want to trust Harrys' cooking when hosting a get together.

Harry didn't reply, marveling in the irony. If only she were speaking a tiny amount of truth.

"Worm, you are going to go next door and ask them over tonight at four, and you are going to be nice about it." Petunia ordered with an icy feril curtness. Her nose scruntched up like an ugly rats. "I have to much to get done around here."

Vernon looked just as suprised as Harry was for a moment, but of course he would follow his wife through the worst in all their lovey dovey glory. Harry, though, still struggled to breathe.

"Don't just stand there, boy! Go! Or have you not learned your lesson yet?!" Vernon asked in a growl. His face became a redder shaded blob, whos tiny eyes were nearly impossible to find under all of the flabby facial rolls all but their shiny black glint.

That got Harry moving. Harry started toward the door, feeling a watchful eye on his back. He wouldn't be able to take anymore punishment, so he couldn't run away again. He finally made it outside, closing the door to get out of his guardians ice cold glares. Why would Petunia ask him to invite his worst enemy over? Did they somehow know about Harry's past with the Malfoys? Could they possibly just want to punish him further?

Harry slipped across the desolate street and up the porch. The sun was hidden behind a thin layer of clowds, not generating enough heat that early to melt the light snow sticking to the ground. Harry tried not to take in the view of the doomed house, but did catch that the UHAUL trucks had gone.

Harry cautiously tapped his nuckles against the door, afraid that, from his previous experience, pain was bound to come from simply touching the gate to another dimension.

At first there was no reply, just dead silence. Harry tried again, a little harder, knowing that if he went back without a story that he would be faced with a few ugly (or uglier than usual) faces.

A pause.

The door creaked open, though there had been no warning sound, revealing a frail looking woman. she almost looked unrecognizable, her face was thinner and more pale than usual, and her bony, hollow cheeks where streaked with old and new tears. Her eyes, puffy and red, were bulging with every moment as she figured who he was. she looked thin and haggared, like a tree, bent from the brutal winds of a storm. Narcissa Malfoy, now widowed and not taking it well. It suprised Harry that she could possibly love Lucius so very much. But then, he guessed it was better that someone cared. He felt a tiny remorse in his chest. The entire family could have been so much more than they had been, if only Voldemort hadn't tainted the "purest" line. But Harry knew that sympathy was wasted on them.

Narcissas' mouth gaped at Harry, shuddering. "D-Draco." She stuttered.

"No, Mrs.-I mean Ms. Malfoy-um..." Harry had no idea as to what her maiden name was. "Ma'am, I know you're upset bu-"

"DRACO!!" Narcissa shreiked, as if in fear, not taking her eyes off of Harry.

"What is i-" A familiar voice asked from out of Harry's view. The icey voice stoped mid sentence, and started up again even colder. "Oh, DAMN! What does he want?"

Narcissa disappeared from the doorway, slipping out of view into a strangely unnatural darkness inside the seemingly empty building, the gate between demensions, now you could see neither side from the entrance. Draco, beaten up but still looking like the rich little 19 year old he always would be in his expensive clothing. His face was contorted into a frustrated scowl, unlike his usual sneer. He was the man of the house now and he knew it. he leaned against the scafolding(sp), looking as arrogant as ever, but not as completely repulsive.

That was when Harry started to notice a few things that he shouldn't have in a thousand years.

Harry's eyes drifted over Draco Malfoys exterior. He watched as Draco's light, platinum blonde hair, which suprisingly contained a few beautiful flecks of gold, drifted in the slight breeze. His striking blueish grey eyes caught the light perfectly, not squinting, and seemed to shine below his sweeping bangs. His skin was a peaches and cream complection, and, despite the bandages, looked smooth and perfect for his light features.

Draco tilted his head, seeing Harry's eyes move over him a bit too slowly. "Why are you here, Potter?" It hadn't come out as sharp as he had wanted it to.

Harry snapped his eyes back up to the blondes', feeling a very inconvenient blush cross his nose. " My guardians have sent me over to ask you and your mother over for dinner tonight." Harry smiled slightly, darkly. " You should be exstatic, Malfoy, a couple of muggles finding you good company, heh." Harry considered slapping himself in the face.

Dracos' scowl only increased, one eye brow raised. Silence.

Harry's hand found it's way to the back of his head, clutching a patch of hair. His scalp burned in protest. Harry smiled shyly. Why am I acting this way?! " But of course, I suggest you don't come. They only really like you for your money, no offence. Not to mention, with my cousin, uncle, and his sister are in the same room I doubt their will be enough air to breathe. Heh." Harry tried to stop his nervousness, feeling like the most stupid thing in the universe.

Draco felt a bubble of anger rise in his throat. " So, why are you really here? Harry Potter?" He looked away from the raven haired teens face to some crck in the floor.

Harry's dark smirk immediatly disappeared. "What, you think I'm lying?"

"Don't fuck with me, Potter!" Draco spat, putting emphasis on the "P".

Harry straightened defensively. " It's the truth!" He said angrily, watching as the blondes' face contorted into a painful grimace.

Draco felt a spike of fear touch his mind. He could feel himself losing control. His hands nails began to harden and elongate(sp), fur spurring on the back of his hand. He tucked it in his monstrousity into his deep pocket before the teen could spot the change. Draco looked back up, finding a pair of deep and concerned green eyes set over and immasculent pink blush. He could have laughed if he didn't feel more like crying.

"What's wrong, Draco?" The question was neither a sneer nor a laugh, it was more on the border line of seriously concerned and regretful. He couldn't think that Dracos pain was his fault, could he? Also, he had used Dracos first name, not a common thing, and it sounded strange coming from Harry Potters voice.

Harry tried to read Dracos' expression, failing miserably.

"What's your babling about, Potter?" Draco questioned critically.

"I'm not babbling, Malfoy!" Harry barked, a crease formed between his eyes.

"No you're losing your memory, Potter, you know that's called short term memory loss. Not a good sign." As if Draco were anyone to talk about good signs. His hand twitched in his pocket.

"I am not! And you're the one that's babbling!" Harry defended, trying to match Dracos' height, but he was still just to short.

"There you go again! Now, why are you here?!"

"I CAME HERE TO ASK YOU TO COME NEXT DOOR FOR FUCKING DINNER, YOU DAMN BASTARD!" Harry burst, hearing his voice echo down the street. His blush increased a great amount. He snapped his head around to see if anyone came out on their porch to check if the end of the world had begun. No such thing happened. Harry was suddenly struck with the memory of Petunias' orders. Be nice!

Draco attempted with all his might not to laugh, but the smile did break his glum expression. He felt his claw-like hand return to it's natural texture, and brought it back out to cross his arms.

"Nicely done Potter. Do you wish to invite the rest of the neighborhood as well and simply thought you would save breath by screaming it?" Draco asked coolly, giving the blushing boy a critical glance.

"It's at four, if you decide to come, jerk." Harry huffed, trying to ignore Dracos' snide comment. He turned and sarted for the other house.

"Fat chance!" Draco called.

Harry closed his eyes in frustration, missing a step on the short stair. A peirce of shock flashed through him. The stairs he had run up a million times to hide had changed, one of them, in the exact place his foot was crashing through, had some how gained a large gape in it's rotting surface. Harry readied himself for the pain, for the bruise, maybe even a gash from jutting splinters, but found neither. An unexpected pain hit his shoulder and pulled him upright. Harry grimaced.

Draco had watched the teen nearly fall, seen his eyes bulge. But before he could stop himself, had quickly grabbed Harry Potter by the shoulder and tilted him right side up. WHY?!

He saw Potter grimace at his touch, his brows knotting together over his wincing eyes. His breath came out as a hiss. Draco removed his hand, horrified. He held it before his face, checking it for the long claws. But the nails remained, flimsy, human nails. For some odd reason, he felt relief. But then why had Potter winced so?

Draco, without asking, reached out for the colar of Potters grey, maroon, and white, diamond print sweater, pulling it's loose fabric to the side.

"Hey!" Potter jumped, startled. He tried to pull away uneffectively. But Draco couldn't move. He was literally frozen.

Over Harrys shoulder and colar bone was an assortment of blue and black bruises, fresh, by their look. Draco could also see now that he was looking closer that plenty of green and yellow finger prints littered his neck and part of his pale face. They couldn't be a coincidence.

"They beat you." It wasn't a question, it was a plainly stated and emotionless fact. Draco had never thought...

"And what's it matter to you?" Harry asked coldly, he shrugged out of Dracos hold after much struggling. He pulled the colar back over his shoulder, strtching his neck with a wince. He gave a hard glare. "Consider your invitation revoked."

He turned on his heels and rushed back to the house across the street.

Draco stood rather stunned for a half a second, and an idea occured to him. Maybe he would attend the little get together, just to get to know these loving, adoring guardians of Harry Potters. Maybe show them just exactly what hospitality meant in the Malfoy household. He stepped backwards into the unnatural darkness, closing the doors as his form disappeared.

...

Okay! FINALLY I retyped it! Few! You all ow me big time! And sorry about the slight shortness, it was supposed to be longer.

cross over poll:

Yes: 0

No:2

Maybe:3

Keep em coming! And please, review!

Oh, and about the bonus, the answere will come next chapter, or the one after that, because I split the chapter last minute .

Next chapter: Chaos unfolds. Will Draco decide to attend the Dursleys ill-hearted get together? And find out just what is going to happen to Marge ... might be a spoiler, might not be a spoiler, only I know!! Enjoy! xXDancerintheDarkXx