WARNING: This story contains child abuse, rape, and torture. If you can't stand even one than do not read this fic! Also, this fic is going to take a while to set up so please have patience.

I do not own anything Harry Potter related. It all belongs to JK Rowling, Bloomsbury Books, Scholastics Inc, Warner Bros., and any other entities involved. Nor do I own Serenity by Godsmack.

As I sit here and slowly close my eyes
I take another deep breath
And feel the wind pass through my body
I'm the one in your soul
Reflecting inner light
Protect the ones who hold you
Cradling your inner child

I need serenity
In a place where I can hide
I need serenity
Nothing changes, days go by

Where do we go when we just don't know
And how do we relight the flame when it's cold
Why do we dream when our thoughts mean nothing
And when will we learn to control

Tragic visions slowly stole my life
Tore away everything
Cheating me out of my time
I'm the one who loves you
No matter wrong or right
And every day I hold you
I hold you with my inner child

I need serenity
In a place where I can hide
I need serenity
Nothing changes, days go by

Godsmack "Serenity"

Previous Scene's End: (Draco's POV)

"So, Narcissa," Mrs. Parkinson said in what she thought was a sly manner. "How is the hunt for a wife coming?" The piranhas on either side of me perked up at the question. If it was possible the feeling of being meat on an auction block increased.

"I have not given it much thought, truth be told." My mother answered as she sipped on her drink. If I could scoff I would. After all, if she hadn't thought about it than what the hell was this lunch?! Conditioning for the dark lord's army?!

"Really?" Mrs. Greengrass replied, annoyance seeping into her tone.

"Yes," my father interrupted. "Our family has responsibilities to attend to first. Or have you forgotten who we are loyal to?"

"Of course not, we are just worried that, should you wait to long, the best options will no longer be available."

Somebody, please, Avada Kedavra me right now. Tonight's meeting was looking more and more attractive. As long as there was alcohol—lots and lots of alcohol.

Previous Scene's End: (Harry's POV)

"You ungrateful whelp!" Aunt Petunia grabbed me by the ear like a naughty five year old and dragged me into the laundry room. "Dudley needs his school uniform dry cleaned! I can't believe you didn't do it!" She grabbed a bundle of laundry before shoving it into my arms, followed by a wad of cash in my pocket. "And don't think your uncle won't be hearing about this!"

I nodded my understanding before crossing to entrance way, not believing my luck. This provided me with the perfect excuse to get out of the house tonight. A small smirk played across my face as I closed the front door.

Looking across the street a little child practically dared the fates to try and take his new teddy bear away.

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Draco's POV

Tick-tock. Tick-tock.

I hate that fucking sound.

Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Tick-tock.

After all, what's the point? All a clock does is quantify your life. Then, one day, oops, you're dead. And aren't alarm clocks the biggest fucking joke ever? Let's make sure to warn you of all your pathetically important meetings except for one. Of course, that meeting happens to be your last pit stop on the road and death doesn't even give you a "by your leave."

Tick-tock.

The irony is we use these machines religiously because they provide us with a measurement of an immeasurable and constantly changing variable. It's like dividing by zero in calculus. And doesn't that just give you a headache? The calculus, not time—after all no one gives a damn about time, at least, not someone else's time.

Tick-tock. Tick-tock.

Fuck. Where the hell is Potter?

I lift my gaze to glare at the sky, pretending not to notice the continuing measuring of time. My time—my life.

Tick-tock.

I lift the firewhisky to my lips, once more attempting to drown out the ever ticking thoughts.

"You pissed already?"

I don't bother to turn around. "Unlike some hooligans, I do not believe in wasting my life away by waiting for someone else."

"Whatever, Malfoy." The bench creaks as his weight is added next to mine. I lift a bottle towards him, but he refuses. Idiot. I take another sip.

"You didn't dress up tonight."

"What are you talking about, Potter?"

"You look like a wizard, not just some muggle delinquent." I glance down at myself only to see fine grey wizarding robes. Fuck. Perhaps, getting drunk so soon wasn't the best idea. I take another swig of my drink.

"Please, you wouldn't recognize me otherwise." Potter snorts. "Not to mention, that you look as homeless as ever." Potter shrugs.

We sit in silence for some time. Neither daring to speak, but instead enjoying the forbidden companionship. Of course, Potter had to fuck it up by messing with that damn paper in his hands.

"Stop it."

"Stop what?"

"Stop messing with that thing. It makes too much noise."

"The laundry receipt?"

"Whatever it is, just stop."

We both look down at his hands for a moment before Potter slips the paper into his pocket. The silence continues for a bit before I realize that it had already been broken, or had the silence never existed due to that damn paper?

Sighing, I reach into my pocket. "Here."

Confusion slips briefly across Potter's face before he notes the Daily Profit in my hand. "You never subscribed did you?" Potter shrugs. "You'll want to read this." He shrugs again before taking the paper from me. I made a mental note to break him of that plebian habit.

Taking a sip from my drink again, I listen to Potter mumble under his breath. Finally he looked back up at me.

"The Inimicus Sacrificum?"

I nod an affirmative. Potter looks back down at the paper, before slouching into the bench.

"Were you there?"

"No."

We were silent for a moment, neither wanting to voice the next part of the conversation. When Potter gaze lifted to meet mine I wanted to damn his Gryffindor courage.

"Will you be?"

I pause for a moment, debating my answers.

"Yes."

Potter nods. "How will I know?"

I don't answer not sure of what to say. Glancing down, I allow us to lapse back into silence, but perhaps this one was not as soothing. Still, it was enough to lull me to sleep and haunted dreams the ever present ticking clock.

Unknown to me, Potter would glance at me that night and make a decision, one that would lead him to carry my unconscious body to his home on number 4 Privit Drive.

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Harry's POV

It was cold that night, or at least, it felt cold to me. Draco slept next to me, his soft snores breaking the deadening silence that would have oppressed me otherwise.

I cling to myself, uncertain of my actions. Draco was the enemy. Right? And yet, there he slept, in my bed. I wondered if he was as cold as I was.

Frustrated I began to pace back and forth—to the desk, bed, closet, and back. Desk, bed, closet, and back. I prayed the repetition would numb me, sedate me, but there was no taming the panic that clawed at the edges of my mind.

Growling I crossed back to Draco and crouched so that my eyes were level with his heavily lidded ones. His silver hair splayed out around his head, displaying a soft halo in the moonlight. I wondered how majestic his metallic eyes could be beneath that moon lit halo. Smiling I reached my hand out to touch the soft locks.

He breathed.

Fear clutched at the edges of my mind once more and I stood as if stung. That smell, choking my thoughts, mocking me. I could almost taste the alcohol as Vernon gripped my hips roughly.

But he wasn't here, just Draco. My eyes frantically shift across the room as I begin to retreat. Vernon wasn't here! He's not—but—

A choking sob escapes me as I shift myself under the desk. Hide. If I could just hide. Frantically, I draw the beaten desk chair towards me.

"No!" I begged. "No, please!" But there was no mercy as I was pinned beneath a mammoth body. Angry curses reach my ears, but they make no sense. Almost like watching a silent movie when the camera has been dropped. "Please no!" I cry louder, screaming in the hopes that someone would hear me. "Help…me."

The body above me crouches lower, suffocating me with its weight. A slap races across my face and the world freezes, seeming to balance on a precipice. Or maybe it's a pendulum. Did my mind just ricochet about the inside of my skull? Nothing makes sense. Angry screams filled my ears—or where they my own pleas?

And then it was there, pressure around my neck, suffocating me. I wanted to scream, but I might as well have been a mime for all the good it did me, a mime performing in a holocaust gas chamber. I failed to reach out when my arms proved to be too heavy. Or were they still pinned by the body above me? I couldn't tell. Spots filled my vision and as I slipped from consciousness. I couldn't help but wonder if I would finally be allowed to die.

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Draco's POV

A high pitch wail brought me back to consciousness and for a moment I wondered if killing a house elf would be considered homicide. Groaning, I lift myself up and clutch at my aching head.

"Please, no—" sobbing filled the empty space in between broken phrases. "S-some body, help m-me—please." Yep, defiantly an annoying house elf. Grabbing my wand, I lift my eyes to the elf in preparation to enlighten it as to why it should really be crying.

But there was no elf, just a broken child. Frowning, my eyes scan the surrounding area all the while wondering if I was in my father's dungeon. Defiantly not my father's dungeon, even if it was obviously a prison cell. Growling, I search my memory for clues to my location.

Lots of firewhisky, no surprise there. Waiting impatiently for Potter to arrive—wait, Potter? Needless to say, sitting in a random prison cell began to make a lot more sense, but that also meant that the noisy child was Potter.

"Shut it, Potter." Cursing I clutched my head as the wails became, not only louder, but higher in pitch. Fuck.

"Damn, Potter!" Kicking my legs out—I roll to the ground. And it was a roll not a fall, Malfoys don't fall. Although, it wasn't the smartest idea to try to stand up when dealing with a hang over, but I really wanted some silence.

Finally, I manage to crouch in front of Potter.

"No, please!"

"No ones going to hurt you Potter" at least, not yet.

The sobs became louder. Frustrated, I grab at his forearm. May I just say that as a Malfoy, I am not privy to the illogical thoughts of lesser beings but grabbing his arm was not really the mistake it may seem to be. Unfortunately, the ear piercing scream that erupted did manage to force me to the other end of the cell.

"Fuck, Potter! What are you, a banshee?" Throwing my hands up in disgust, I gracefully flop down onto the bed and use a few well placed silencing charms.

I slept like a burdened war king that night.

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Author's Note:

So, I've had a lot of reviews that I've wanted to respond to, but due to time constraints haven't done so yet. Also, I'm posting on two different sites right now so, to save time, I'll be responding to both sites in this note.

Bucket: (Review 1 Response) I could easily put more questions in the summery, but to protect our minds from the tacky monster I will resist. Maybe. (Review 2 Response) Grins. (Review 3 Response) Yes, the use of kings at the end of the chapters was on purpose. Let me know if it ever gets tacky though because I'm trying to set a pattern with that. (Review 4 Response) I'm glad you enjoyed the use of the work fuck in chapter 4. I was really afraid that I had over done it. Thank you for putting my mind at ease.

Thrnbrooke: *blinks innocently* but Dumbledore told them so. (Yes Ron and Herm are idiots.)

Mithrilandtj: The problem with abuse situations is that many times the victims do not leave. Whether this be due to fear of the abuser, shame, fear of the unknown (probably the most common), or a simple inability to get away, it is very uncommon for abuse victims to leave the abuser without prompting and/or help from a third party.

No I did not know about the ferry. Although, it might have just given me the answer to something I've been struggling with at the end of this story.

Charlie-becks: Yay, you caught the chapterly teddy bear and king reference! And yes Harry has his Teddy Bear.

LifeMattersDoesntIt: I am so relieved that you think this story is realistic. I've done a lot of research in the attempt of doing just that. I can't tell you how many abuse fics have made me cringe because of the unlikelihood of it all.

General response: While I have written fanfiction before, this is the first time I've posted it where many people can read it. So I am very relieved to know that many of you think it is well written. Also, I will update when I can. By now you have discovered how sporadic my posting is, I'm sorry if this annoys you, but school and work comes first.