Yeah, yeah, I realize it's not Friday yet. *shrugs* I believe I mentioned somewhere that I was impatient? So, this story now updates Mondays, Fridays, and whenever-the-hell-I-feel-like-it-days in between.
Harry POV
Harry groaned as he opened his eyes, the shaft of sunlight that had somehow snuck past the heavy blinds momentarily blinding him. He put a hand up to block it, blinking slowly to clear the spots from his vision. It suddenly occurred to him that he was snuggled up to something warm. Somone warm. He shot out of bed, fumbling for his glasses and flushing as the night before came flooding back to him.
Draco scowled at him. "You don't have to act quite so horrified, Potter. You are the one who snuck into my bed in the middle of the night."
Harry scowled back. "My. Name. Is. Harry. And excuse me for trying to rescue you from what must have been a bloody awful nightmare."
Draco's face crumpled. "You heard me then," he said flatly.
"Yes, and a right scare you gave me, too, howling like that, after I'd just –" Harry clamped his lips together, cutting off the words. Merlin. He hadn't meant to say anything about his own dream.
"You were having a nightmare too!"
"Yes."
Draco frowned, but it was a thoughtful frown. "What do you have nightmares about, then?"
Harry stared at him. "Really. What do I have nightmares about? Have you forgotten the last week entirely?"
Guilt stole over Draco's expression. "My father."
Harry snorted. "Please. He's not that scary."
Draco's mouth quirked up at one corner, acknowledging the jibe, but let it go, his gaze fixed unwaveringly on Harry's face.
Harry sighed, relenting. "Werewolves," he said shortly.
Draco's head jerked, his eyes widening. "That's how – "
"That's how they captured me, yes. And no, before you panic, I wasn't bitten."
"I wasn't going to suggest it," Draco said, with injured dignity.
Harry couldn't help but smile. Draco looked so cute when he – Merlin! What's wrong with me? Draco Malfoy is many things, but cute is not one of them. The part of his brain that had acknowledged, last night, that he needed the comfort of Draco's presence too, just laughed
Harry rolled his eyes at Draco, who was staring at him warily. "Right. Well, I need a shower. I'll see you in the kitchen in fifteen for breakfast? I'm sure Kreacher's managed something mostly edible – especially since you're here."
Fifteen minutes later, a slightly damp, but much more awake, Harry bounded down the stairs. He caught the edge of the doorframe as he skidded in. He grinned at Draco and bounced over to him. "'Morning." He grabbed a piece of toast, slathered it with butter and jam, and crunched into it happily.
Draco just stared at him, his own piece of toast frozen halfway to his mouth. Harry noted, with some amusement, that Draco had put at least twice as much jam and butter on his toast as Harry had. He shook his head. And the git still manages to eat it without getting a crumb or drip anywhere. Harry brushed self-consciously at the crumbs that now littered the front of his sweater, then shrugged. Who am I kidding? Its not like messy eating is going to make a difference in his opinion of me, one way or another. He carefully didn't think of what sort of opinion he wanted Draco to have of him.
Draco shook his head, then dropped his eyes to his toast and continued wordlessly – and very, very neatly – to eat his breakfast.
Harry stood up, brushed off the crumbs he'd collected, and patted Draco on the back. "Come on – let's go call McGonagall and get this over with." Kreacher appeared with a crack and began clearing away the remains of breakfast as Draco stood and made his way over to Harry. As they reached the door, Harry turned back. "Thanks for breakfast, Kreacher," he called.
Kreacher's back stiffened, but he otherwise didn't react. Draco huffed in exasperation. "Potter – " Harry frowned sternly at him, and Draco rolled his eyes. "Fine. Harry. You do not thank a house-elf. Are you trying to antagonize him?" He stopped and stared at Harry. "You are, aren't you. Honestly." He stalked towards the study, shoulders held stiffly.
Harry just grinned to himself. Antagonizing Kreacher and Draco with one sentence. Ten points to Gryffindor – No. Ten points to Harry. This wasn't a House contest – this was between him and Draco. Just because Draco didn't know he was playing, didn't mean he wasn't in the game.
Harry rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. He'd forgotten how exasperating it could be, talking to the Headmaster. Well, Headmistress, in this case. But, really, there wasn't much difference. McGonagall had slipped seamlessly into Dumbledore's shoes – Harry didn't envy her; they were big shoes to fill, and most likely pinched – but sometimes he thought she took it a little far. Just because she'd taken over Dumbledore's job didn't mean she had to make the same decisions he would have. But no. She'd absorbed Dumbledore's logic too well. Harry would have to go back to the Dursleys'.
Draco, too, he remembered suddenly. It had taken some convincing, to make McGonagall believe Draco had joined their side. In the end, after Harry had reminded her of Snape – who he knew she found indispensable, and who he suspected she had a bit of a thing for, not that he understood that – she had relented. Not that it changed anything. There was still nowhere for them to go but the bloody Dursleys'.
He wanted to point out that he'd been at the Dursleys' when he'd been abducted, but it wasn't strictly true. He'd gotten fed up with them – and bored besides, without his schoolbooks, which were once again locked up – so he'd gone for a walk. Of course that's when he ran into Greyback. So, technically, it was still safe there. Probably. Well, safe from Voldemort's cronies. But there was the small matter of the Dursleys themselves…
Of course, McGonagall didn't know about that. Dumbledore hadn't either. Oh, Harry was pretty sure Dumbledore had guessed – he was too smart to have missed it entirely. But Harry had never mentioned how they treated him – not to anyone. He wanted to put it behind him. Going back every summer didn't help with that, but… He just wanted to be normal. The last thing he wanted was for word to get out that the "Chosen One" had been abused growing up. They'd never leave him alone, then.
He opened his mouth to mention it now, but the same old arguments chased each other around his head, and he closed his mouth again. He had spent too long not talking about it – he couldn't do it, now that he had the chance. So he sat back and listened while McGonagall droned on about blood protection and family and "only for the summer" and "no one in the Order is available." He let the words wash over him, ignoring them, like he did when Hermione started going on about SPEW and house-elf rights. Like he did when Ginny started going on about the future, back when she thought they'd had a future. He felt a small pang of guilt, for dropping her like that, at the start of summer. But it passed. Mostly he was relieved that she'd let him go.
" – Weasleys, Harry." He tuned back in with a start, looking up at McGonagall sheepishly.
"I'm sorry, what?"
She pointedly refrained from sighing. The complete lack of a sigh hung heavy in the air, and Harry wondered how on earth she managed it. Then he realized his attention was drifting again, and started. He found himself staring into wide gray eyes that crinkled at the edges as he stared.
"Headmistress," Draco said respectfully, "I'm afraid Harry didn't sleep well last night. Nightmares, you know, after…"
McGonagall's face softened. She reached out as if she would pat Harry on the head, even though of course she couldn't, through the floo. "I'm sorry, Harry. Its easy to forget, sometimes, that you're just a teenager, still." Her voice turned brisk. "I'm afraid I don't have anyone I trust enough who's able to come and fetch you boys right now. You'll just have to stay put for a few days until one of the Order members gets back from their mission. You should be relatively safe until then, especially since the House's wards respond to you, Draco. After that, I'm afraid you'll have to stay with the Dursleys for the rest of the summer. I know it's not ideal, Harry, but… well, there's not really another option. It's not that much longer. I'll see you boys again when school starts." She smiled at Harry, obviously attempting to include Draco, but not quite succeeding. "Do try to stay out of trouble."
Then the flames roared and settled in the grate, and Harry and Draco were alone once more.
Harry closed his eyes, massaging his temples. Floo conversations always gave him a headache. "Thanks, Draco. I – "
Draco cut him off. "Yes, yes, you're welcome and all that." He fixed Harry with a penetrating stare. "What did they do to you?"
"What?" Harry looked up, surprised.
"Your family – what did they do to you?"
Harry growled. "They are not my family."
Draco jerked back in surprise. "Alright. Your – the Dursleys, then."
Harry sighed. "Look. I don't – let's not talk about this now. Maybe later…" He shrugged. "You'll see for yourself soon enough."
Draco frowned at him, but wisely chose not to say anything else.
