Author's note: This so serves me right for trying to plan my stories out in advance. Trust me, it didn't work very well. -sigh- Anyway, here's the next chapter of Every Rose, which I hope you enjoy. I made it long, mostly 'cause they wouldn't stop talking (-muttermutter-) and partly 'cause I know I've neglected this story for a while. I'm going to concentrate on it for now and see if I can finish it before I leave. Not that my leaving will stop me from having internet time, I just might have a little less and be exposed to public scrutiny, and I don't like people watching me as I write. (i don't see why not. you're vain enough about it.) Kyra, you wanted me to write this author's note, so you should stay out of it, okay? (...) Good. As I was saying, I want to finish this story before the end of the month, which means at least three more conversation, or six more chapters (seven, counting the Draco version of this one.) So you'll have something to look forward to! Lucky you.
Disclaimer: Yes, of course I'm JK Rowling. I published my first book as a single mother, got to know my character on a train, and was a bestseller. Oh, and did I mention that I also own .05 of the moon? Come on people...

Home sweet home… not

It had to happen eventually. Harry knew it did, but he'd hoped that, by squeezing his eyes shut and turning away, he would make it go away. It didn't, and after another week of delicious freedom, everything came crashing down to sit at his feet like a prized ice sculpture, melting slightly as it touched the ground and dampening his shoes in the process.

His first and only clue was Draco's wild entry into his room at three in the morning. The blonde's hair stuck up wildly every which way, reminding Harry rather forcefully of his own black locks, and the gray eyes were wide with an emotion Harry couldn't quite recognize. Not fear, or pain, or anger… something like a combination of the three. Harry knew what Draco was going to say before his love even opened his mouth, but he let Draco say it anyway.

"They're back."

Harry sat up. He ran a hand through his hair, knowing full well that that would just put it in worse condition and not giving a damn. "How long have they been here?"

Draco shrugged. "No idea. Not that long. They haven't found you yet."

"Are they looking for me?"

"They will be."

Harry sighed. "We'll have to leave. Unless you want to fight them now, that is."

Draco shook his head. "No!"

"I didn't think so." Harry frowned. "Where can we go?"

Draco shrugged. "There isn't some hideaway used by those combating the dark side?"

"There is, but you can't go there."

Draco's hands clenched and he scowled fiercely. "Oh, so now you're doubting my loyalty? Some way to repay what I've done. Maybe I should just let my father find you!"

"I didn't mean it that way," Harry snapped back. "If it were up to me, you'd be in right away. But it's protected and I'm not secret keeper. You can't get to it until I write to Dumbledore."

"Oh, and you think he'll let me in?"

Harry scowled. "He'd better! It's my house, after all!"

Draco blinked. "The muggle house? But… but I could get there just fine!"

"Not that one." Harry shuddered slightly. "God no. This is Sirius' house."

"Sirius… Sirius Black?"

Harry nodded. "He was my Godfather, remember?"

"And he left you his house?"

"Among other things. But we can't actually get there until Dumbledore lets you in." Harry bit his lip, knowing the answer and hating it. Unfortunately, there weren't any other options, and time really was of the essence. "It'll have to be my aunt and uncle's house."

Draco grimaced. "Must we?"

"You have a better place in mind?" Harry demanded. He waited. Draco said nothing. "I didn't think so. Do you want to go there or stay here and be caught?"

"You make it sound like the latter is actually a choice."

"You always have a choice," Harry reminded him. "So which is it?"

Draco gifted him with a look of withering scorn, no small accomplishment, considering that it was three in the morning and Draco was still in his sleep-wear, disheveled from slumber and sporting black smudges under his eyes.

"Fine. Anything you can't live without?"

"My broom?"

"How else were we going to get there?"

Draco blinked. "You can't Apparate?"

"Never bothered to learn. Why, can you?"

"Of course." He said it like it was obvious, which, Harry realized after a moment, it was. Probably everyone but him could do it from his year. He shrugged the thought away.

"Brooms anyway?"

"I'm not leaving mine behind," Draco informed him. "I have no desire for it to serve as firewood for tomorrow's dinner."

Harry nodded. "So how do we get there?"

Draco grinned slightly. "Through the window. How else?"

How else indeed. Harry watched as Draco unlatched the window, glanced around, and slip himself up and over. Harry followed, missing the landing and falling to the ground with an audible noise.

"Are you all right?"

Harry nodded. "Misjudged the distance," he murmured, standing again. He winced slightly as his ankle protested but, other than that, he was unharmed. "Let's go." They fled across the grass, two dark silhouettes, running soundlessly through the garden, their hands clutched together. Harry drew his wand with his free hand, gasping, "Alohamora" as they approached the broom shed. They grabbed their brooms, closing and locking the door behind them.

"You'd better close your eyes," Draco warned. "It's a little disconcerting if you're not used to it."

"What do I do?"

"Just think of the wretched place. Probably your room, since it's the only room I was actually in, thankfully."

Harry nodded and closed his eyes, gripping Draco's hand tightly. He concentrated on his room, trying to think of it dispassionately, without any of the loathing or anger he normally associated with the place. He felt a horrible wrenching feeling in his belly, followed by another and a loud crack.

"You alright?" Draco's voice sounded odd in Harry's ringing ears. Harry nodded. Suddenly he stiffened, his rapidly returning to normal ears detecting the unmistakable sounds of his uncle barging up the stairs. As Harry had expected, Vernon's bullhorn roar preceded him by a good fifteen seconds.

"WHO THE RUDDY HELL IS UP THERE??"

Harry glanced at Draco, who shrugged. "Do you have any great desire to hide our presence from your relatives?"

"It wouldn't really do any good, since he's coming up anyway."

"We could leave," Draco pointed out.

"And go where? My uncle might be an idiot and a bully, but he's never actually hit me."

Draco winced slightly at that. "I suppose," he muttered.

The door burst open to reveal Vernon's jello-like figure. His piggy eyes were squinted up in rage, and his numerous chins quivered like they pad palsy. Harry couldn't help thinking how very pathetic his uncle looked in that moment. He wondered what on Earth Aunt Petunia had seen in him. Though, considering what she was like herself, maybe it wasn't all that surprising.

"You?!" Vernon's bellow had subsided to a level somewhere between a roar and a holler, though Harry would be willing to bet that the neighbors could still hear him without straining their ears. "What are you doing here?"

Harry looked coldly at his uncle. "We're running away," he said bluntly. "Draco's father is a sadistic terrorist who will kill us if he finds us. We have to get into contact with the headmaster of our school so that he can give Draco the password to my house and we can stay there until school starts."

Vernon, for once, had nothing to say. He stood in front of the pair, gawking at Harry's frank statement.

"You forgot the bit about Voldemort," Draco pointed out, not taking his eyes from Vernon's face.

"Oh yeah. Draco's father works for a terrorist overlord who killed my parents and now has it in for me."

Vernon finally recovered his ability to speak. Unfortunately, he also recovered his volume. "And so you come here, putting my family's lives in danger and expect me just to ACCEPT IT?!" His voice grew steadily louder until it reached its full, eardrum piercing potential.

"In case you'd forgotten," Harry informed him coldly, rummaging through his drawer for some paper and a pen, "I'm part of your family too."

"Not anymore you aren't! I'm disowning you as of now."

"What, so now I won't get that toothpick you left me in your will? Forgive me if I don't cry about that. Here we are!" He pulled out a sheet of parchment and a ballpoint pen. Draco looked at it with interest, but didn't say anything. Harry uncapped the pen and scrawled hastily.

Prof. Dumbledore:

Draco and I are at my aunt and uncle's house. I need you to tell Draco where Grimmauld Place is so that we can go there to escape his father.

H. Potter

He looked around for Hedwig. She was nowhere to be found. He cursed fluently as he tried to figure out when she could be back.

"Give it here," Draco said, holding his hand out. Harry passed him the note, and Draco drew his wand. Vernon recoiled visibly, and Harry couldn't help feeling a sharp feeling of satisfaction at the sight.

Draco muttered something under his breath and the paper folded obligingly into a paper airplane. He glanced at Harry.

"Where do you think he'll be?"

"Try Hogwarts. Someone'll find it, if not Dumbledore."

Draco nodded and went back to the airplane. He tapped it once with his wand, uttered a short spell, and threw it out the window. It shudder briefly, then steadied itself and zoomed off towards Hogwarts. Harry watched it go, wondering how long it would take. He hoped it wouldn't take long: he didn't want to temp fate any more than he had to, and he wasn't sure he could withstand the temptation to torture the Dursleys, now that he could legally do magic. He turned away from Vernon and went to the window, hoping that they wouldn't have to spend more than the night here. He really didn't want to get arrested on top of everything else.