A/N: Heyyy… It's me. So sorry for leaving you all hanging! I've been getting bombarded with new ideas for new stories and I had to put them in writing before they flew the coop. Anywho… thank you to those who voted! COMING SOON: y'all get to see Harry discover Draco's claustrophobia. Also, I should be posting my new stories soon! It'll be a series on the Marauders, in case you were wondering.;) If you guys love me, check them out, drop me reviews, let me know what you think!
Thank you guys for your support! You know the drill: if there is anything you guys would like to see in the future, drop a comment or PM 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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Paper-white hands pulled a wood-backed brush through black and white streaked hair.
"76, 77, 78…" counted Narcissa quietly, scared to raise her voice above a whisper for fear of waking her husband. "79, 80, 81…"
Her mother taught her when she was little to brush her hair with 100 strokes a day. She and her sisters would take turns brushing each others' hair and counting out the strokes. It was a habit that Narcissa had never given up. Had she had a daughter, she would've passed on the practice.
Narcissa had just reached stroke 90 when the sound of breaking glass stopped her. She laid her brush on the vanity and rose from her stool. Crossing over to the door, she peeked her head out the door cautiously, searching for the source of the sound.
As luck would have it, the source was no more than five feet from her door.
On the floor was an upturned tea tray; tea was pooling around the smashed tea pot, with tiny streams streaking away and absorbing into dropped toast.
Standing above the mess was a young man still wearing pajamas, a dressing gown, and slippers; looking dazed and vaguely distraught, was Draco.
Narcissa stepped out in the hallway, tugging her dressing gown tighter around her slender frame. "Draco?" She called softly. Instead of reacting to her voice, Draco crouched down, flipped the tray right side up, and began to collect shards of broken china.
"Draco, sweetheart?" She tried again, slowly approaching her son. "Draco, are you all right?" Narcissa raised her voice to its normal pitch.
"I'm fine," Draco muttered, still not looking up. He hissed as a piece of china sliced the tip of his finger. Ignoring the drop of blood that had welled up, Draco threw the shard onto the tray.
Narcissa frowned, pulled out her wand, pointed it at the debris on the floor, and incanted "Evanesco."
As the spilled tea, broken china, and soggy toast disappeared, Draco picked up the tray and got to his feet. He still hadn't met Narcissa's eyes. Narcissa dropped her wand back into the pocket of her dressing gown and took another step towards Draco.
She slipped a delicate hand under his chin and gently guided his face up. Draco's bright blue eyes finally met hers. Narcissa couldn't help the sigh that escaped between her lips. The vacant expression that haunted her son's usually spirited eyes was one that Narcissa knew all too well.
"Oh, my dragon," she breathed, wrapping her arms around his small frame and pulled him close to her. She brought one hand up to rest on his white blonde hair, the other remained around his shoulders. Narcissa pressed a kiss onto the crown on his head.
She gave her son a squeeze as she felt one of his arms come up and circle around her back awkwardly, the tea tray still held firmly in Draco's hand. After a moment in which neither Malfoy said anything, Draco dropped his arm and stood back. Narcissa let go and gave her son once over. There were no prominent injuries that she could see, but she knew that Draco wouldn't tell her if there were any even if she asked. So instead, she settled for giving him a warm smile.
"Would you like…"
Her words trailed off as Draco began to back away.
"Where are you going?" She called after him. Draco brandished the tray and said in a small voice, "Tea."
Narcissa's nod was lost to Draco as he turned his back to her and set off for the kitchen.
Narcissa sighed heavily and dropped her head into her hands. How had she let this happen?
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Draco moved slowly up the staircase, careful not to disrupt the tea tray he balanced on one arm. His tip of his tongue protruded slightly through his lips as he concentrated on rounding a corner slowly. So focused was he on keeping the tray steady that he didn't notice that someone was standing in front of him until he had nearly run them over. Draco stopped abruptly, startled by the appearance of another person.
The tray tilted threateningly as the teapot began to slide to one side. Draco tried to tip it back in the other direction, but it was no good. Just as it seemed that Draco was going to destroy a second tea set that morning, a pair of narrow hands shot out and grabbed ahold of either side of the tray.
Draco looked up and saw that the hands belonged to none other than Harry Potter.
Harry stared quizzically at the other boy. "What are you doing, Malfoy?"
"Carrying tea," Draco deadpanned. Harry frowned, a dark eyebrow climbed toward his hairline.
"I can see that," he replied patiently, "but why are you doing it with one hand? Don't you think two would be better than one?"
Unconsciously, Draco hid his right arm behind his back, away from Potter's grasp.
"Mind your own business, Potter," he sneered. Something flickered in Potter's eyes, but it was too quick for Draco to catch it.
Harry released the tray and stepped back, allowing Draco to pass. Tightening his one-handed grip on the tray, Draco resumed his slow and steady trek down the hallway towards his parents bedroom. If he didn't deliver the tea before his father woke up there'd be hell to pay.
"Why don't you let me do it?," came Harry's voice suddenly, no more than two steps behind him. Draco suppressed his flinch at the unanticipated sound, not wanting to spill the contents of the tray for the second time that morning.
Confident that his grip was still steady, he risked a glance backward and asked, "Do what, Potter?"
"Carry the tray," Harry responded as he drew level with the young Malfoy.
"Oh, what," snorted Draco, "is this you saying that I don't have the freedom to carry a tea tray anyway I wish? What would you prefer, Potter?" He cut a quick scathing glance at the black haired boy. "Shall I balance it on my head for you? Or perhaps you would like me to place it on my back and pretend to be a walking table? Or maybe even–"
"Shut up, Malfoy," Potter sighed. "I was just offering to help."
Draco's grip tightened further on the tray. "Whatever," he muttered. They walked in silence for a moment before Harry spoke again.
"Want to explain what happened last night?"
"What?" Draco felt his heart give a lurch.
"You lied about why we got detention and I want to know why."
"Potter, it–"
"And what was with shoving me in a closet? I'm not a vacuum cleaner, Malfoy,––"
"It doesn't –– wait, a what?"
"–– I'm a human being, just like you, and, since we're being forced to spend the summer together, I think we should at least try to treat each other as such."
"Potter! Shut up a moment, will you?"
The two boys were now standing outside of Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy's bedroom door. Harry watched as Draco gently kicked the bottom of the door in lieu of knocking. He frowned as he noticed that, though Draco's other was still unburdened, the young Malfoy failed to utilize it.
Was there something wrong with his hand?
Harry's speculations were interrupted as the door suddenly swung open to reveal Lucius Malfoy, dressed in his usual black robes.
"What kept you?" He directed towards his son, disregarding the other boy in the doorway. Draco kept his eyes down. He mumbled something that neither Harry nor Lucius could catch. This was the first time Harry had ever heard Draco speak without his usual air of snobbishness.
"You know I loathe muttering, do you not, Draco?" Lucius asked coldly. Draco nodded at his slippers, not looking up. "Then why, pray tell, are you muttering?"
Deciding to bite the bullet, Draco blurted, "I spilled the tray earlier." One pale eyebrow climbed Lucius's forehead. Lucius said nothing, but it was clear to Harry by the look on the man's face that he wasn't at all pleased with his son's confession. Lucius stepped backwards, retreating farther into the room. With the doorway unbarred, Draco shuffled forward into the room. Harry hesitated outside the room, not sure if he was allowed to enter or not.
He watched as Draco crossed to a small table that stood beside a broad window and, due to the fact that he was still stubbornly using only one hand, clumsily slid the tray onto the tabletop. The second he was free of his burden, Draco quickly scuttled out of the room and closed the door behind him.
Acting on his suspicions, Harry leapt forward and captured Draco's right forearm while the young Malfoy's back was turned. He immediately let go, however, when Draco gave a sudden yelp.
Draco whipped around glared at Harry as he clutched his arm to chest. "What did you do that for?" He hissed accusingly. His heart racing, Harry stepped towards the young Malfoy, reaching again for his arm.
"Let me see it," he said as Malfoy began to back away. Draco quickly hid his arm behind his back.
"No," he replied defensively. Harry frowned. "Let me see it, Malfoy," he repeated, still advancing on the blonde.
Draco continued to back away. "Drop it, Potter," he said warningly. He felt an involuntary flutter of fear in his chest as Potter showed no signs of stopping his advance.
A sudden bolt of pain shot through his arm as Draco accidentally backed into the wall, his arm still twisted behind his back.
He yelped and made the mistake of bringing his back into Potter's line of vision. The second Draco's arm made a reappearance, Harry once again took hold of it, though this time he took the precaution of grasping higher up on Draco's arm to avoid the injury. Draco tried feebly to retract his arm but Potter's grip was firm and moving only served to cause him more pain.
"Let go, Potter," he demanded. Harry's reply was to carefully roll up the right sleeve of Draco night shirt. Harry couldn't help the gasp that escaped his mouth. The middle of Draco's forearm was painted with a giant bruise that pulsed purple and blue. The bruise wasn't the worst of it.
Draco's forearm wasn't straight like it was supposed to be. It was sat a slight left angle so that there were not two bends in his arm (like there should have been), but three.
"What happened?" He demanded, emerald eyes blazing. Draco was taken aback by the anger he saw swimming in Potter's eyes.
"I – er – I fell," he said stupidly. Draco could've read the look of utter disbelief on Harry's face from miles away.
"Do your parents know about this? Have you shown them?"
"Er…"
Before Draco could stop him, Harry had whipped around and marched the few steps back to Draco's parents' door.
Draco lunged forward to stop him, sensing the other boy's intentions, but he wasn't quick enough.
Harry raised his fist and rapped sharply on Mr. and Mrs. Malfoys' bedroom door.
"Why did you do that?" Draco breathed, horror restricting his vocal cords. Harry stared incredulously at the Slytherin.
"Your arm is clearly broken! Why haven't you told them?"
"That's my business!" Draco retaliated. "And I'd greatly appreciate it if you'd nose out, Potter!"
"I'm trying to help you!" Harry hissed back. "And seeing as neither you or I can do magic outside of school, they–" He jerked his thumb at the door, "– are your best bet!"
"I don't care whether–"
Whatever Draco hadn't cared about was lost as the door suddenly swung open. Narcissa stood with a cup of tea in her hand, now fully dressed.
"Yes?" She asked simply. Draco felt the blood drain from his face. If Narcissa found out about his arm she would be able to conclude that it was Lucius's work. If she found out it was Lucius's work she would end up having a row with him. And if Narcissa had a row with Lucius it would mean more than a broken arm for Draco.
"Just checking to make sure the tea was okay!" Draco piped at the exact same time that Potter exclaimed, "Draco's broken his arm."
A tight look appeared around Narcissa's mouth. Draco glared at Potter. Potter glared right back.
Narcissa disappeared back into the room. When she returned, the boys saw that she had abandoned her teacup and was now brandishing her wand.
"Let me see your arm, Draco," she instructed firmly. Draco innocently stuck out his left arm and placed his wrist in his mother's grasp. She pulled up his sleeve and stared blankly at the unblemished, pale skin. Briskly rolling down the sleeve, she gave her son a heatless glare before grasping his other wrist.
She let out the same gasp that Potter had given a minute ago at the sight of his arm. The dark bruise looked no better than it did moments ago. "What happened?" She asked tersely, not looking away from his arm.
"I fell," Draco lied again.
"The hell you did," Narcissa swore under her breath. Harry risked a glance over at Malfoy and saw that he had gone very, very pale. His vibrant blue eyes were fixed on a point above Harry's head. Turning away from Draco, Harry saw that Lucius Malfoy had appeared silently in the door way.
"What's all the fuss about?" He drawled carelessly, his eyes drifting over Draco's discolored arm. "Oh dear, what happened, Draco?" He asked with a disinterest to rival that of Harry's Uncle Vernon whenever Harry managed to get hurt.
"Fell," Draco lied for the third time that morning, though this time, his words were phrased almost as a question.
"Indeed?" Lucius replies blandly. "Perhaps it would play to your benefit to be more aware of your surroundings?"
Draco nodded quickly. Lucius stepped through the doorway and swept down the hall, his serpent-headed cane held firmly in his grasp.
Harry gaped as Lucius disappeared around a corner. How many times had Harry heard, or overheard, Malfoy bragging about his father and this was how his father treated him? How could a father be so cold towards his own son? What could Lucius possibly have done to deserve Draco's juvenile loyalty?
Harry was drawn back to the situation at present when there was a sudden crack and Draco gave a sharp yelp. Harry snapped his head around, his untidy hair whipped about his forehead. He looked down at the pale arm still held in Mrs. Malfoy's grasp.
The break in Draco's bones had been mended and his arm was back to its proper position, though the bruise still stood out like a vibrant stain on otherwise unmarked skin. Draco removed his wrist from his mother's grip as she slid her wand into a pocket hidden in the folds of her dress.
"I'll get you something for the bruising in a bit, all right?" Narcissa set her jaw and disappeared the same way Lucius had.
Harry gave Draco a lopsided smile as the other boy rolled down his sleeve. Once he had refastened the button he looked up and squinted at Potter's grinning face.
"What's that look for?" He asked.
"Don't tell me that that doesn't feel better," Harry said with what he hoped was a friendly grin.
Draco rolled his eyes. It did in fact feel better, but he wasn't going to admit that to Potter. He and Potter walked in silence as they went back upstairs to get dressed. Reaching the end of the hallway that lead to their rooms, Draco turned into the left room while Harry went right.
Draco closed the door behind him softly. He knew Potter had only wanted to help, and to an extent he had, but in the grand scheme of things Draco knew that Potter had only served to make things worse.
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The door smacked the wall with an almighty bang.
"Potter, tell me you have dress robes?"
Harry, who had been lounging peacefully one of the library's armchairs, snapped his head up, startled at the sudden surge of noise. With his free hand, he readjusted the glasses slipping off the end of his nose from the abrupt movement. The other hand marked his spot in a book he had been reading before the interruption.
The bespectacled boy stared blankly the other boy who had just entered the room. Draco stood framed in the doorway, the bottom of his robe still swaying from his movement. His brow was furrowed and his eyes narrowed.
Harry fully intended to respond with something along the lines of 'What are dress robes?' or 'Why do I need dress robes?' Instead, the only question his mouth seemed capable of formulating was ––
"Huh?"
An exasperated sigh burst from Draco's mouth. He strode across the room to where the other boy was sitting and stopped in front of him, arms crossed and eyes still narrowed.
"Dress robes," he said slowly, enunciating each word as though speaking to a small child. "Do you have them?"
Harry raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed with the way Draco was speaking. "No, I don't have dress robes," he said as he gently closed his book and straightened up in his chair. "What on earth would I use them for?"
Draco huffed again and flopped down in another armchair to Harry's left. "Dinner parties, balls, special events. They're dress robes, Potter. What do you think you use them for?" He rolled his head on his neck to look over at the dark haired boy.
A frown spread across Harry's face. "No, I don't have dress robes," he glared. "What use would I have for them? Unlike you, I don't live my life like a prized show horse, with my parents parading me around so everyone can see me."
It was Draco's turn to frown. "Yes, well, even if you had parents, who'd want to show you off?" He said nastily.
There was a thud as the book Harry had been reading landed on the ground as Harry shot to his feet. Draco immediately imitated the gesture, placing the two boys less than a foot away from each other.
"Don't talk about my parents, Malfoy," Harry hissed through clenched teeth.
"Then don't talk about mine" Draco spat back. Bold emerald bored into frosty blue, neither boy wanting to break contact first. Deciding to break the charged silence, Draco spoke first.
"Dress robes," he said coldly. "You can borrow a pair of mine."
"What do I need them for?" Responded Potter, just as gelidly.
Still refusing to break eye contact, Draco said, "Father and Mother have company over. They expect us to make an appearance."
And with that, he whisked off through the open doorway whence he came.
Harry raked his fingers through his hair, gripping the ends in frustration. Professor Dumbledore had to know that he and Malfoy didn't get along. It wasn't exactly a secret. So why, why, had he placed Harry with a boy he all but considered his archenemy?
Resigning himself, Harry picked his book up off the floor, returned it to the shelf, and set off to find Malfoy.
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