Chapter 29: Balancing Act

It was so cold. It was always cold in his cage. But Harry still preferred its unfriendly chill to the horrors that awaited him each time he was pulled out from it. The Darvey-Lady used her wand to throw stinging hexes and other spells at him. She had her elves put something around his neck, and she would pull him around the house by a leash. If he tried to stand, a house elf shoved him back down to his knees. If he tried to use his hands to eat the scraps he was allowed, his hands would be tied behind his back and his face would be shoved into the food bowl, or worse, the bowl would be dumped over his head. That meant another bath. And even thought he knew that trying to get away from the bath elves only seemed to make them angrier and more rough with him, Harry just couldn't help it. Each time the tub appeared, Harry was filled with a blind panic and tried to scramble back into his cage. Then the elves would drag him out by his feet and dunk him head first into the icy water to wash him. His cage became his sanctuary.

The Darvey-Lady's words were almost as torturous as her wand use and her elves. She said she had lied to him about 'Secret Magic' and about the bad blood. She would sing horrible songs to him, again and again:

"You stupid boy, I made you bleed. You are too dumb. I lie, you heed!" and "The thing that was bad, was scratching your scab, and now your friends hate you for being so bad!"

The Darvey-Lady screamed at him, as well, that because he had stupidly turned bad by scratching himself unnecessarily, Madam Pomfrey and the others couldn't stand to be around him. She would scream and laugh that no one could stand to be around him. Except her, and she could only stand him if she was punishing him.

Harry didn't understand all of it, but he knew the Darvey-Lady must now be telling the truth, else why wouldn't Pomfee or his friends come and get him? Once the reality of that sank in, Harry stopped fighting to get away. He no longer resisted being bathed or leashed and made to crawl and eat like an animal.

And unbeknownst to him, this was a very bad thing, for his captor, Bellatrix Black LeStrange, was no longer entertained by him. After a few days, she had his cage moved to the dark corner in the Punishment Room down in the LeStrange dungeon, while she decided how exactly to mete out his final fate. Avada Kedavra was, she felt, perhaps too quick and too kind an end. But she was in no hurry to decide. Now, she resolved to turn her attentions upon her nephew.

~o~

"Rennervate!"

Consciousness returned swiftly to Draco. He hated Rennervate. It felt like his eyes were being pulled open by claws, and this time felt a hundred times worse than he'd ever experienced it before. His mouth was bone dry and his hair felt lank. His stomach rumbled loudly and he smelled of urine and worse. How long had he been under for? He had a vague memory of his aunt repeatedly Stupefying him. It felt like it had been going on for days.

"Nice of you to join me, nephew." scathed his aunt. "Though you smell rather worse for wear. We can't have that, now, can we? Scourgify!"

Draco felt the spell hit, and though it was unpleasant, it was a relief to be clean again – though he was still ravenous. He took in his surroundings. They were in the Grey Room. Unsurprisingly, it was aptly named. Mother had always held that the LeStranges lacked imagination, and further, that they did not make up for it in other areas. The walls, draperies, austere furniture and cushions were all in similar shades of grey. The effect was to put one in a bleak mood. And that was, he believed, surely his aunt's point, as she pointed her wand at him.

"I have decided, you might be of use to me. Perhaps you have inherited some of my dear sister's abilities? She was devilishly good at charms, as well as hexes. and an excellent student – top in her class. Were you also at the top of your class, Draco?" she asked coyly. "Oh. That's right. You were bested by a Mudblood, dear nephew. Perhaps you cannot help me, after all," she pouted, prettily.

"That Mudblood would never have bested me, if it weren't for Dumbledore's constant interference. He played favorites, as I'm sure you are aware, dearest Auntie. But I am certain that, whatever it is you need help with, I am perfectly capable of handling."

"I certainly hope you are right. Walk with me, Draco, and say nothing" and she cast Alohomora at the french doors leading to the labyrinthine corridors. After a time, they came to the long hallway filled with portraits.

As they walked, Draco distinctly heard titters and snorts emanating from some of the occupants of the garish frames. They ended their excursion at the library, a pitiful exemplification of one, in comparison to the extensive library at Malfoy Manor. Mother had thoughts on this as well, but Draco was distracted by Bellatrix hurling "Colloportus" at the Library doors behind them.

"I need you to figure out how to remove, or at least to silence, those accursed LeStrange portraits. They mock me at every turn, and I. Won't. Have it. Prove your loyalty to me – and your usefulness – and I will reward you."

She didn't need to add what would happen if he failed. Draco knew his aunt well enough already. And he knew, that proving his loyalty by finding a way to deal with the LeStrange portraits was no guarantee of his safety. It was, however, a place to start, so that is what he determined to do.

"I would happily silence these wretched LeStrange ancestors, Auntie. You know Mother couldn't abide by them. I will do what research I can here," and he gestured disdainfully at the pitiful collection. "But, uh, how shall I proceed with testing out solutions? I know I haven't earned the right to a wand yet, by any means." At every word he spoke, Draco desperately hoped he was mixing the right amounts of deference and cunning and disdain.

"Hmph. Indeed not." Come find me in the Green Parlour, when you have something worth my while to try."

And again, Draco heard the unspoken words: 'You will regret it if it is not worth my while'.

"You may call for a house elf to direct you. As I recall, you had a penchant for getting lost here, no?" and with that, she left him.

Draco held back in retorting that it had only been the once. Now was not the time to be petty.

~o~

Draco put down the 27th book he'd perused on the little desk in the lackluster LeStrange library. He was having no luck and had no expectation that things would improve. A soft 'pop' to his left alerted him to the presence of a house elf.

"Dinner is served. Please follow me, Master Draco."

Draco's stomach growled appreciatively. "I don't suppose there is a place I could freshen up first?"

"Dinner is served. Please follow me, master Draco" repeated the elf, tonelessly.

Draco did so and was led down the long hallway of LeStrange ancestor portraits. As he passed, he could hear them murmuring in unsettled tones. When he got to Persephone, he stopped to greet the Grande Damme. It didn't hurt to try to stay in her good graces.

"Lady LeStrange, I have been enjoying your lovely library. Do you know anything about its history?"

"Oh, young Black. It's you again. Yes, well the LeStrange family is not exactly known for its love of books. However, as it happens, it was my own maternal great, great grandmother who insisted that the manor contain a library. Unfortunately, her progeny did not continue her ideals and few new volumes have been added since her time."

"Thank you, Madam. I'm sure she was a very great lady, indeed. I'm afraid I must be on my way. Dinner calls."

"Oh, I do miss a good dinner, "came a wistful voice from the portrait just to the right of Persephone's.

Draco saw that it's occupant was a surprisingly young gentleman, dressed in a jewel-encrusted robe, which looked uncomfortable and crass in equal measure. "Is that the nephew, going to dine?" continued to the portrait, longingly.

"Yes, Halbert, and don't go having a fit, dear." Persephone leaned forward to the right as she said this, as if somehow she could lean out of her frame and view her neighbour. To Draco, she added "I don't recommend you engage my dear cousin in conversation. He is prone to fits and faints at the slightest provocation."

"Thank you, Madame Persephone. I will be prudently brief with him, as I must be going." He was careful not to mention Bellatrix to the haughty portrait, as he didn't want her to dwell on their unfortunate association.

"Don't listen to my old, jabbering cousin. She is exaggerating my condition," the painted younger wizard derogated. "I simply have a delicate disposition. Did you say you were going to dinner after all?" it asked in earnest.

Draco took a few steps to stand directly in front of the frame. Like the erstwhile LeStrange who occupied it, the frame was also bedecked with brightly coloured gemstones. Halbert LeStrange was certainly a flashy young fellow. "Yes, Master Halbert. I'm afraid I am late, or I would gladly chat with you."

"I don't suppose you're going to have berries with your meal? Oh, how I do miss a good strawberry." With that, Halbert LeStrange began to fan himself with his hand and he sank into his dark burgundy chaise longue. "Ooooh," he moaned, "I don't think I can take it."

"What did I tell you? He is going to have a fit. About berries. It doesn't take much. I suggest you be on your way, young Draco." sniffed Persephone.

The elf had not waited for Draco and was a lot further down the hall. Draco had to jog a bit to catch up with him. And as he did, an idea began forming in his head. He did not much like it, but his options were a few. Arriving at last at the dining hall, Draco was instantly reminded that like almost all of the LeStrange's garishly decorated rooms, it had a 'color theme'. The dining hall was unpleasantly red. Everything in the room was red, from the crystals in the chandeliers down to the handles on the cutlery. It was an assault on the eyes, and he remembered his Mother had whispered to his father once, that it was an assault on the pallet, as well.

"You took your time, nephew. I didn't wait for you." She picked up a dinner roll and tore a new bite out of it.

Draco's aunt was not famous for her table manners. Her sisters – even the Muggle-loving one – would never make such an offense. Mother always said that one breaks off small pieces and butters each, before eating it.

"My apologies, Auntie Bellatrix. I was detained by those damnable portraits on my way. I see what you mean, and the sooner they are dealt with the better."

"And have you made any progress, nephew?"

"Not as such. But I will. I am determined." Draco took a seat at the red enswathed table. The cloth was red, the serviettes were red, The dishes were red, even the glasses were tinted red. His Mother was right, Draco was starving, but all that red was nauseating. As he reached to pull out his chair – wood stained red and with a red cushion, of course – Draco suddenly fell to the floor with a gasp. He lay with limbs shaking and mouth working soundlessly, his eyes widened in terror.

Bellatrix leapt from her seat, wand in hand aimed at Draco. "What's this?"

Suddenly Draco went limp and his eyes fluttered closed. He was breathing heavily.

"Aquamenti!" shouted Bellatrix and a stream of water flew from her wand and hit Draco squarely in the face.

Draco'd eyes opened as he spluttered. "What. What?"

"What is wrong with you, boy?" his aunt asked, accusingly.

"Nothing. It's nothing." Draco stood up and made to brush himself off. "A drying charm would be appreciated, Aunt Bellatrix. If you please?"

"Assiccio,"cast Bellatrix. "That certainly was not nothing. What ever is the matter with you, Draco?"

"If you must know, it is why I was at St Mungo's." Draco tried his best to look chagrined.

"Do tell," his aunt prompted.

Draco took a seat and placed his serviette in his lap before answering. "It started after, after…" He took a sip of wine from a red tinted glass before continuing."After Mother was killed. I began having these…fits. They're nothing. You did exactly the right thing, as it happens. A little water or, as some of the more despicable Nurses at St Mungo's discovered, a slap to the face, serves to revive me. They don't last, and they don't happen that often. And frankly, I would rather not discuss it further, if it's all the same to you."

"Don't give me cheek boy. You're flying on a shaky broom as it is. And there is already one boy in this house with whom I am already furious. Don't give me reasons…"

"Of course not, Aunt Bellatrix. I meant no disrespect. It is just that these fits… Well I am ashamed. Let's discuss something else, shall we? How is the bloody 'Boy Who Lived' fairing these days? Isn't he joining us for dinner?"

"Ah, very funny, Draco. I see you have my sister's sense of humor," she laughed.

Talk of his Mother made Draco long for her so, but he shoved those feelings down deep.

"I have been entertaining myself with the Boy Who Lived. And I am sure by now he is the 'Boy Who Wishes He Did Not Live'. In fact, he has become quite boring. Perhaps I will let you join me for some after dinner entertainment and you can enliven him for me."

"That would be most welcome, Auntie." Draco suppressed a shudder. He had to hold it together to play this game. He was playing for his life and for Harry's, and failure was not an option

As the meal progressed, Draco was torn between wanting the meal to be over already, so that he could see Harry, and dreading seeing what condition Harry might be in. When at last the elves disappeared the pudding dishes – his aunt had a notorious sweet tooth – Bellatrix stood, allowing her serviette to fall unnoticed to the carpet (a hideous red floral affair) and stretched luxuriously. She let out a long groan.

"Well, I suppose we could see if seeing his old rival will rouse the sniveling whelp. Come, Draco. We shall go see my other 'guest'. He's in the Punishment Room. You remember it, I'm sure," she mocked.

Draco knew it well enough. When he was ten, Draco's parents had taken him to stay at his aunt and uncle's for a weekend holiday. And Draco's father had taken him down to the dungeon to see the Punishment Room. It was dark and smelly and made his skin crawl. Aunt Bella and uncle Rodolphus had a man imprisoned there. He was strapped to a table, beside which floated a tray laden with a frightening array of sharp implements. As the man pulled at his bonds, Rodolphus had explained to Draco that the man had tried to steal from him. Whether or not that was true, Draco had taken as a given then, but now he wondered. His uncle and aunt showed him and his father a bit of what they did to thieves. Draco had run, retching, from the room, to the shrieks of his aunt's mad laughter and his father's shouts of anger at being humiliated in front of the LeStranges. He could hear the thief's screams in his head, as he received his own punishment for that transgression of 'manners'.

Thinking about Rodolphus, Draco realized he had not seen his uncle since he'd arrived. His aunt had made no mention of him or his absence. Perhaps he was dead. That would be no great loss to the Wizarding World, thought Draco. He shivered as he entered.

"I know we just had such a lovely pudding, but I do believe it's time for 'Torture Tea'!" enthused Bellatrix. As soon as she said it, a little table and two chairs appeared before them with a 'pop', followed by a two house elves, laden with a tea service and a three tiered dish of colourful biscuits. "Marvelous!" cried, Bellatrix, taking a seat. "Please sit, nephew. And then we can wake ickle Harry."

Draco sat, and Bellatrix cast a Lumos, waving her wand around the room and lighting all the torches there. Draco thought he had well steeled himself for what he would see, but he was ill prepared for the poor state Harry was in. He was glad he was seated, for surely his legs would have buckled at the sight of Harry. At least Harry was not strapped to the table. Instead, the boy was confined in a stick and rope cage, like the ones the half-giant used in his Magical Creatures class. Around his neck was a heavy-looking metal collar, and Harry looked, in a word, terrible. His pyjamas were in shreds and his skin showed through red and raw. Harry's forehead wound was puckered and looked infected. He had dark circles under his eyes and his face looked bright and feverish.

Oh, Harry. Look what she's done to you. Draco clung to his Malfoy training for composure.

"Wakey, wakey," Bella sang. "You stupid boy, I'll make you bleed. I'll make you cry. I'll make you need!" Bella waved her wand like an orchestra conductor as she crooned, and Harry began to stir.

~o~

It looked like his friend, Draco, but Harry knew he must be dreaming, because the Darvey-Lady had told him all his friends were gone. At least this was a nice dream. Not like the scary ones he usually had. Harry smiled a little and pillowed his head back on his arms. He breathed out a little sigh, trying to keep his fluttering eyes open to stay with this nice dream. He didn't want it to go away, but he was so very tired.

~o~

"I usually start with a walk – or more like a drag – around the manor, followed by slops for his dinner and a house elf bath. But that became boring so I just started hexing him until his collapse."

"That does sound rather boring, Auntie Bella," said Draco in what he hoped was a sufficiently bored tone. How about a game of 'Alpha-Spells'?"

'Alpha-Spells' was a wizarding children's game wherein players take turns casting benign spells or jinxes based on the letters of the alphabet. When only two people were playing, each one vied to go first, so they wouldn't get 'X'. Because in 'Alpha-Spells', if you can't think of a spell (and there were no spells that started with 'X') your opponent could cast any spell at you, and you couldn't defend yourself. It was supposed to be a learning game, but outside of classes, Draco and his mates used to choose a victim from the lower forms at whom to direct all their spells, jinxes and hexes, and as they were outside of class, they used Curses, as well.

"You can even go first, Auntie."

"You can't possibly imagine I would give you a wand to play, Draco."

Her voice was hard, but Draco could tell she was interested. He tried to sooth her. "No, no, of course not. I can say the spell, and you can cast it for me."

"Very well, Draco. It's been years since I played this game. My sisters and I were quite formidable. But I will make an easy start. Alohomora," she cast, and the door to the rope cage swung open.

"Oh, very good, Auntie. Easier to reach him and to see our handiwork. And since we're starting off easy, how about 'Blattatitillationem'?"

"Really, Draco? Is that the best you can do? It will be merely annoying, at best. Tut tut."

Draco just smiled demurely, shrugged and spread his arms.

Bellatrix studied him through lidded eyes, but then she cast the spell. A swarm of dusty beige moths flew out of the tip of her wand and descended on Harry. But he was practically immune to their tickling. He remained prone, and just waved an arm a little to try to stave off the fluttering onset.

"Finite! That was no fun. He's too weak to be ticklish. My turn now. Let's see, the letter, 'C'… Hmm. If I was still in school, I'd likely cast a Canary Transfiguration Hex. He's already a confused little twit, so Confundus is no use. And I think you see where this is obviously heading, nephew? A little Crucio seems in order. That will certainly get him moving, eh?"

"That's a splendid idea, Auntie. Please," and as Draco extended his arm towards Harry, he promptly fell out of his chair and began to twitch and shake on the stones.

Bellatrix leapt to her feet, wand still in hand, and paused, standing over Draco. "A good slap, I believe you said it was," and smiling cruelly, she leaned down to strike him. Just then, Draco sat up, grasped his aunt's head in both hands by the hair and smashed his forehead into hers. It smarted something fierce, but it did the trick. Bellatrix was momentarily stunned and dropped her wand. What followed was a mad scramble of nephew and aunt grabbing for the fallen wood. Draco prevailed.

Without thinking he cast at his aunt as she lunged at him. "Stupify! Incarcerus! Impedimentia! Immobulus!" Draco was panting by the end of it. He was on his hand and knees and he let himself slide down to the floor, resting his cheek against the cold stone, Bellatrix's wand held tight in his fist. He didn't know how long he lay there, head throbbing from where he'd hit his aunt. When he at last stopped shaking and had regained his breath he pushed himself back up to his knees and crawled over to where Harry lay, motionless.

~o~

Oh, no. This dream was turning bad, too. This Draco had a wand. And Harry well knew what wands were used for in this place. A tear rolled sideways down his face onto his crossed arm. Harry wondered if the dream would go away before it started to hurt him. He squeezed his eyes closed, more tears welling up, and he hunched his shoulders up to brace for pain, for he was too weary even to crouch at the back of his cage. Little good it would do him, he knew.

~o~

"It's okay Harry, it's me, Draco. I'm not going to hurt you. I'm just going to take off that collar and free you. I promise. I won't hurt you." Draco cast an unlocking charm at the collar and it fell from Harry's neck, sliding with a solid thud to the bottom of the cage.

Harry made no movement or response, other than to blink his eyes. Then he just stared blankly at Draco, and Draco felt as if he wasn't even there to Harry. Draco pushed himself to his feet and reached into the cage for Harry to help him up. But Harry recoiled at the touch on his arm and then did a slow sort of scramble to the back of the cage.

"No. No be a bad deam, Piddy Boy. Oh, pease no be a bad deam," Harry whispered, shaking his head slowly.

"Harry. It's me, your friend, Draco. I'm not a dream. I'm real. I'm going to take you out of here." Draco gulped, fighting to maintain his composure. "Let me help you, Harry. Please."

Harry blinked several times in disbelief. "Dayco? Am dat reawy you?" His lower lip quivered.

Draco got back on the floor, so that he was at Harry's level. He tucked the conquered wand in his back pocket and crawled into the cage with Harry. "It's, me, Harry. Really. I promise it is. I'm so sorry I couldn't find you sooner. Oh, Harry, I'm so, so sorry."And this time Draco gulped in great sniffs and tried to blink back tears.

Then Harry tentatively reached out a hand to Draco and Draco held his own hand out, open, to Harry, letting the boy feel that he was indeed real. Harry weakly squeezed Draco's hand and the other boy took that as acceptance, and pulled Harry to him in an embrace. Harry began to cry and babbled incoherently through his tears. Draco was able to make out some of what Harry was saying, but it made no sense to him.

Harry finished with, "Darvy-Yady say you gone," shaking his head.

"It's okay, Harry. I've got you now. It's going to be okay," Draco's own tears were falling freely now, as he helped Harry to stand. Draco felt too lightheaded to safely side-along Apparate Harry to St Mungo's. "We've got to get upstairs to a floo. Come on, Harry."

But Harry wasn't listening. He just kept repeating through his sobs, "Da Darvy-Yady s-say you g-g-gone aw-wayyy."