A/N: Here's another chapter! If you can't tell, I'm trying to make up for disappearing…
please don't hate me…
DISCLAIMER: I own nothing! I make no profit off of this. This is solely for my enjoyment and hopefully for the enjoyment of others! ;)
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Draco didn't know how long he and Potter had sat on the floor of The Box, their breathing the only sound to be heard. Draco hated that he was here again. He knew it was his own fault, knew that he deserved it, but that didn't make it any more bearable.
When Dumbledore had pulled the two boys into his office to explain their new living situation, Draco had made a promise to himself then and there: that no matter how much he disliked Potter, he would do everything within his power to keep Harry away from the evils that lurked behind the walls of Malfoy Manor.
And yet, here was Potter, caught up in a punishment that he didn't deserve. Draco sighed heavily into his arms. His father was right: Draco really couldn't do anything right. Harry didn't deserve any of this. None of what happened tonight had been his fault.
"Potter?" Draco spoke suddenly, his head still buried in his arms.
"Yes?"
And before he lost his nerve, Draco said quickly, "I'm sorry."
"Sorry, what? I didn't quite catch that."
Draco's head snapped up. "I said, I'm sorry."
He turned his head to where he believed Harry to be sitting, if the pressure against his shoulder told him anything. There was a stunned sort of silence as Harry processed the words that had left Draco's mouth.
"I – Why are – I don't – um…"
Draco leaned his head against the cool metal of the back wall as Potter struggled to find his words.
"You don't have to be sorry," he finally managed. Draco scoffed sharply. "No, really," Harry continued. "What happened wasn't your fault. You didn't intend to knock all of the people over. It's not like you wanted it to happen."
"That's not what I'm talking about, Potter," the young Malfoy interrupted bitterly. "I'm sorry about the fact that you have to live here. I'm sorry that you couldn't go and live with your friends." Draco shot up to his feet, sudden anger bubbling in his chest.
"I'm sorry that you've had the misfortune of meeting someone as much of a screw up as me. I'm sorry that your summer's not going to be everything you had hoped it would be. I'm sorry that you had to meet my father." Draco was frantically pacing the few steps back and forth between the narrow walls.
Harry couldn't see Malfoy but, if the sounds of rushed footsteps and labored breathing were anything to go off of, he could tell the pale-haired boy was getting himself worked up again.
"I'm sorry that you had to learn what it's like to be treated like a house elf. I'm sorry that I didn't protect you and I'm sorry that you're here in this stupid box!" Harry jumped as what he guessed was Malfoy's foot connected with the door sending a resounding boom throughout their entrapment.
There was a second, smaller clang as Malfoy's knees connected with the floor. "I just… I'm sorry."
His voice sounded so broken, so guileless that Harry didn't quite know what to say. This was nothing like the snooty, pale-faced brat Harry had met in Madam Malkin's shop on his birthday. This wasn't the Malfoy that taunted Harry and his friends. This wasn't the Malfoy that Harry harbored a deep, gut loathing for.
This wasn't Malfoy at all; this was Draco.
"Draco…" He started, knowing he had the other boy's attention by the use of his first name. "You don't have to be sorry. If anything, I'm the one who should be sorry." He heard Draco take a breath to retort, but he rushed on before the boy could say anything. "I shouldn't have judged you so quickly when we met. We got off to a bad start, but we're both to blame for that.
"You're not a screw up, Draco. That's… that's just your dad talking."
He heard Draco draw in a sharp breath, as though afraid the very man in question was about to appear.
"You shouldn't be sorry that I have to live here. I'm sorry that you do. Does Dumbledore know about any of this? Does anyone?"
"No!" It was practically a shout. "No," he said again, lowering his voice, "no one knows. And no one's going to know," he said, intending to be threatening but instead coming off as almost pleading. "They can't know," he trailed off in a whisper.
"Draco–"
"No, Harry!"
Now it was Harry who was caught off guard by the use of his first name.
"You can't tell anyone. I don't care what you see or what you hear, you cannot tell a soul. It would only make things worse."
They lapsed into an stiff silence, the kind that makes your skin crawl uncomfortably. The kind where all there's left to do is think, but you'd rather do anything but.
Not able to bear the silence any longer, Harry spoke. "How long?" He asked quietly, knowing that the other boy knew exactly what he meant.
Draco drew in a deep breath before answering. "As long as I can remember. He once told me that he used to be proud to have a son, but, seeing as how I'm me, he says he's anything but. He says that I'm a disgrace to the Malfoy name, that I'm not worthy." Draco gave a scornful laugh.
"You don't believe him do you?" Harry asked, shocked that anyone would actually say that to their own child.
Draco snorted before answering. "Wouldn't you? If you heard that every week since you were a child?"
They lapsed back into silence. Harry began to wonder if he had learned the reason behind why Malfoy was the way he was. Perhaps he was cold and contemptuous at school because that's how his father was. Perhaps he was just trying to be a Malfoy the only way he knew how.
Harry's ears perked up at the sound of Draco resuming his pacing. Three steps right, pivot, three steps left, pivot, three steps right, pivot, three steps left, pivot…
On and on it went, for how long, Harry didn't know. The more Draco paced, however, the quicker his steps became. Soon three steps turned into two and two turned into one as Draco strode faster and faster between the walls.
"Are you alright?" Harry asked from his spot of the floor. The constant squeaking of Draco's shoes against the metal floor was beginning to make Harry's head hurt.
Draco didn't respond directly to Harry. Instead, he muttered something incoherent to himself, his frenetic pacing never ceasing.
"Draco?" Harry tried again. Still no answer. He wasn't entirely positive that Draco had heard him. Harry pushed himself to his feet as Malfoy's mumbling got louder.
"He'll let us out, he'll let us out. He's going to come back. He always comes back. He's going to come back."
Harry frowned at the pale-faced boy's ramblings. Was he talking about Lucius?
"Malfoy, would you stop for a minute?" He said, stepping forward into the line of Draco's pacing. The other boy gasped at the sudden obstruction in his path. He bounced backward and gasped again as his shoulders brushed the metal of the walls.
Draco rushed to where he knew the door to be and put his entire weight against it. "Move, move, move, move, move, move, move…" He muttered, as though the words repetition could cause the door to budge.
"What are you doing?" Came Potter's exasperated, yet slightly alarmed, voice.
The young Malfoy switched shoulders before once again directing the whole of his strength into trying to move the door.
"Don't just stand there, Potter. Help me," he grunted.
Confused as he was, Harry nonetheless placed his hands on the door and pushed. But the two boys were no match for the heavy steel.
"You're father probably sealed it with–"
There was a loud bang as Malfoy's fist connected with the door.
"Don't, Malfoy!" Harry jumped forward to seize Malfoy for the second time that day. Draco was ready for Harry this time though. Even though he couldn't see the boy, Draco managed to duck and evade Harry's grasp.
Once he was sure that Potter was out of the way, he refocused his attention on the door. He had to get out, he had to.
"Let us out!" He bellowed at the top of his lungs as he pummeled the metal with rapidly swelling knuckles. He kicked and he shoved and he hit the door, but all to no avail.
"Please!" He begged. "Please, I can't breathe! There's not enough air! Please, I can't–"
He threw his back against the wall, desperately trying to drag in a breath. Draco felt the familiar feeling of the walls closing down all around him. The darkness surrounding him snuck a tenebrous hand around his throat and squeezed firmly.
He wheezed as a caliginous beast clamped its hands around his chest and constricted as a boa might. He dropped to his knees as the darkness began to laugh at him, mocking his weakness, welcoming him back into its shadowy embrace.
He whimpered as it whispered in his ear that he was never going to feel the sun warm his skin again. It told him of the all the ways he could perish there, with no one to save him, no one to miss him. But the it had forgotten one thing; there was another occupant in the box.
"Malfoy, can you hear me?"
Draco distantly recognized the voice as Potter's but was in no way capable of responding. His chest was still too tight, there wasn't enough air to breathe.
"Draco, you need to slow your breathing. Can you do that?" Harry's voice was strong, but Draco could detect the panic hidden just barely beneath the surface.
Knowing that what Potter was saying was sensible, Draco tried to take a deep breath but only ended up choking and gasping.
"That's okay. That's fine. Let's try again, yeah? Can you give me your hand?"
Slowly, Draco lifted a trembling hand and extended it in front of him. He jumped as Harry's hand found his. Harry guided his hand against something warm and alive.
"Try and copy my breathing," Harry implored. The boy began to take exaggerated slow breaths in and out, keeping Draco's hand pressed firmly against his chest.
He waited patiently as Draco struggled to match Harry's breathing, but eventually the gasps gave way to normal breaths and the normal breaths became deep.
"That's it," Harry encouraged. "You're going to be okay. There's plenty of air in here for the both of us. You're going to be fine."
They sat in the silence and just breathed for a minute or two before either of them attempted speak. It was Draco who spoke first. "Potter?" He said timidly, gently taking his hand back and sitting back on his heels.
"Yeah?"
"Where'd you learn to do that?"
"I saw Percy do it once for one of the second years. I thought it might help."
"Oh… Potter?
"Yes?"
"…Thanks."
"Anytime."
––––––––
It was hours before the door to The Box was opened. Draco lay curled on the floor next to Harry, who was still sitting upright, his back pressed against the back wall.
Draco sat up suddenly as the door swung open and feebly candlelight poured around the slender figure of Narcissa Malfoy.
"Mum," Draco breathed in relief. He stumbled his way into his mother's arms, burying his face in her soft robes of burgundy.
She wrapped her arms tightly around his shoulders and pressed a kiss to his soft blond hair. Harry stood and exited the confines of the box, forgetting what it was like to see the light. Even when he had lived in the cupboard under the stairs at the Dursley's, there had still been light that inched through the slots of the vent and found its way through the cracks around the door.
There had been nothing but sheer darkness inside that container. It was no wonder Draco couldn't stand it in there; Harry himself was beginning to feel a little squirrelly in there.
"Are you alright, Harry?" Narcissa reached out to the black-haired boy as he stepped out into the cool air of the ground floor. Harry nodded reassuringly as she gently caressed his cheek, looking him over for an obvious signs of injury.
Satisfied that the boys were in no need of urgent care, Narcissa turned and began to sweep back up the hallway. Draco and Harry both followed quickly.
"How… how's Father?" Draco asked timorously. He turned apprehensive eyes up at his mother as they walked. Harry saw Mrs. Malfoy's shoulders tense slightly at her son's question.
She chose her words carefully before speaking. "Recovering," she said slowly. "He wishes to see you tonight in his study after supper," she said quieter still. Draco's steps faltered, his skin becoming a ghostly white as the blood drained away.
"Mother, please, please, don't make me go," he pleaded, trying and failing to keep the quaver from his voice.
"There's nothing I can do, Draco. I'm so sorry." Harry frowned as her hand clenched reflexively. It was only then that he noticed the vivid shades of violet and deep blue that mottled her wrist peeking out from her robes.
"Will you be there at least?" Draco continued, looking for some form of consolation, but finding none as Narcissa shook her had quickly.
Harry could hear the emotion in her voice as she said softly, "I'm so sorry, dragon."
Draco blinked furiously at the ground as Narcissa led them up a staircase and into the coruscating light of the noonday sun. They'd been down in the box longer than Harry had realized.
The young Malfoy ignored the cheery sun knowing full well that his day was going to anything but cheerful.
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