Apparently people actually like where this story is going. I feel loved. Well, I'll try to update as frequently as possible while I'm on holidays. But once I'm off holidays, I'll be lucky if I update more than once a week.

Disclaimer: Why do I even bother? You KNOW I don't own them.

There was a short silence broken by a cough from Uncle Vernon as he entered the kitchen. McKenzie looked at the fat man in front of him, a look of disgust on his face. "Detective McKenzie, London Police. I'm here on behalf of an anonymous phone call regarding child abuse."

Uncle Vernon looked outraged. "Child abuse?! I do no such thing! Dudders is very well taken care of!"

McKenzie slowly raised an eyebrow. "Mr. Dursley, let me put you at ease. I am not here on behalf of, err … 'Dudders'. I am here on behalf of the other child you provide a home to."

Uncle Vernon frowned. "Other child? Oh, you mean the boy?"

"Yes, Mr. Dursley. But I believe the boy has a name", McKenzie said, before gently looking down at Harry, "What's your name, son?"

"Harry, sir. Harry Potter", Harry said, and recoiled as Uncle Vernon clenched his hand into a fist.

"I don't know what lies have been fed to you, Detective, but I do not abuse the- err … Harry."

"How do you explain the bruise on his face?" McKenzie asked, gently running his fingers along the bruise, "Or the one around his neck?"

"I … I have no idea", Uncle Vernon said, his eyes shifting around wildly. Harry opened his mouth to say something, but shrank away as Uncle Vernon shot him a glare. If looks could kill …

"Mr. Dursley, let me advise you that investigations will take place. Once a week, an officer will come in to make sure everything is okay", McKenzie said, "You must agree to this, or we will do it by force."

Uncle Vernon slowly nodded his head.

Dear Mr. Malfoy,

I don't know how this letter is going to reach you; to be honest, I don't even know why I'm writing it. But I thought I'd let you know that things are looking up. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia gave me Dudley's second room. Dudley was angry about it, of course. He threw a tantrum. He threw stuff at Aunt Petunia, and hit Uncle Vernon in his private part. Uncle Vernon says he'll never get on Dudley's bad side. Ever again. They've started treating me better, too. I'm allowed to eat what they eat. But not as much. Dudley still get's four times the amount what I do. Aunt Petunia says he's a 'growing boy and needs his nutrients'. Uncle Vernon still beats me, though. But now he makes sure the bruises are covered by my clothes. I thought once the detective man came, everything would be better. Isn't that what you promised me, Mr. Malfoy? Didn't you promise that I'd be in a safer place when the detective man came? I'm not in a safer place, Mr. Malfoy. In fact, the place is still very unsafe. The only difference is – I can lock my door. Not that I couldn't do that before, but it's harder to get into the cupboard under the stairs when you're in a hurry. Mr. Malfoy, I don't like it here. Uncle Vernon hates me. I'm starting to think life would be better without me in it. Mr. Malfoy, please help me. I've got cuts, Mr. Malfoy. I made them myself, to ease the pain. I read somewhere (yes, I can read) that if you get the right spot, you become happy. Like when women eat chocolate to be happy. I read that cutting the right spot will release the same endorphin thingy that chocolate does.

I hope Draco is having fun. I hope to see you soon.

Lots of love,

Harry

Dear Mr. Malfoy,

I think I went too far this time, Mr. Malfoy. I back-chatted Uncle Vernon. I told him he didn't have the guts to throw me out on the street. I told him he's fat, Mr. Malfoy. Mr. Malfoy, he threatened to kill me. Uncle Vernon has always hated me, but he has never threatened to kill me. I'm scared, Mr. Malfoy. I don't want to be here anymore. Where are you, Mr. Malfoy? Why aren't you saving me? You promised me, Mr. Malfoy, you promised that I'd be in a safer place. That was two months ago. Mr. Malfoy, I'm starting to doubt you. I thought you were my guardian angel, Mr. Malfoy. Your hair makes you look like an angel. You're pretty, just like an angel. If you're an angel, why aren't you saving me? Mr. Malfoy, I thought angels saved people. Where's my angel?

Lots of love,

Harry

Lucius read the two letters from Harry with tears in his eyes. Unknown to Harry, Lucius had asked his house elf, Dobby, to pop into Harry's room at night to make sure he was okay. Dobby had found these two letters, addressed to Lucius. I did. I promised him a safer place to live … Lucius thought. Severus stood in front of his husband, looking concerned. He hadn't read the letter, but he made a mental note to do just that. Lucius slowly sank into a couch, wiping his eyes. "Severus … Harry's in danger. I can't do anything."

Severus frowned. "Why not?"

"Dumbledore. He's got an eye on Harry. He's determined to keep him with the Dursley's until he comes of age."

Severus let out a roar of rage. "That's bullshit! 'Until he comes of age'. That's thirteen fucking years away! What the fuck is Dumbledore thinking?!"

Lucius put a hand on Severus' shoulder to calm him. "He's obviously under the impression that he is looking out for what is best for Harry."

"Don't, Lucius", Severus spat, shoving Lucius' hand off his shoulder, "Don't you dare start making excuses for the barmy old man."

"Daddy? Sevvy?"

Both men turned to see a frightened looking Draco standing in the doorway of their room. Draco was dressed in his pajamas, and was clutching a teddy bear tightly in his arms. "I heard shouting, Daddy. Are you and Sevvy fighting?" Draco asked. Lucius walked over to his son and picked him up.

"No, Draco darling. Sevvy and I love each other very much", he said, "We would never fight."

Draco looked at Severus, as though seeking confirmation.

"That's right, Draco", Severus said, walking over to his husband and stepson. "We would never fight."

Dear Mr. Malfoy,

I ran away from home.

Lots of love,

Harry.