A/N: I'M SO SORRY THAT I TOOK A TWO YEAR HIATUS. I SUCK SO MUCH.

I hope that if you are one of the original readers and reviewers, you're still with me on this journey. I plan to write as much as I can while I'm on break from school!

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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"You're going to have to stand up taller than that, Potter. Your posture is absolutely atrocious. Pair that with your hair and your ugly scar and you could practically pass for a troll."

Harry frowned as Malfoy sniggered to himself. There were plenty of retorts that surged to the tip of Harry's tongue, but he wisely chose to keep to mouth shut. Arguing with Malfoy was something that wouldn't benefit either of them at that particular moment.

As per Malfoy's earlier promise, Harry found himself in Malfoy's room and was currently sporting a sleek pair of black dress robes that the pale haired boy had pulled from his wardrobe. They were made of fine silk and were embellished with lustrous thread that, had Harry not known any better, could have passed as liquid silver.

It's clasp was immaculately set with a swirling 'M' surrounded by impressive wing-backed dragons and sharp spears. Harry quickly guessed that this was the Malfoy family crest.

Harry reached up and tugged slightly on the tie knotted around his neck. Draco had tied it so tightly that Harry had felt as if he were being suffocated. The young Malfoy swatted Harry's hand as the black haired boy continued to loosen the tie.

"Ouch," Harry hissed, more to annoy Draco than anything. The smack hadn't actually hurt but it was quite funny to watch Malfoy get riled up about Harry's appearance.

Malfoy muttered to himself, something about pigs, as he fiddled with the knot at Harry's throat.

He stepped back to inspect his work, giving the other boy a once-over from head to toe. "Isn't there anything that can be done about your hair? I mean, don't you ever brush it?"

Harry huffed and ran a hand over his hair. He didn't waste any breath on explaining that that was just how his hair grew. Upon seeing the exasperated look on Harry's face, Malfoy simply rolled his eyes and finished his examination of the other boy's appearance.

"It's nothing special, but I guess it'll have to do," Malfoy said at last with a shrug. "Now," he continued as he stuck a hand out to Harry, "how's your handshake?"

Expecting a trick of some sort (this was Malfoy after all), Harry skeptically grasped the proffered hand with his own. He shook it twice before quickly letting go. But before their hands had even separated all the way, Malfoy was already shaking his head.

"No, no, no," he tutted in a tired sort of voice. "That was absolutely abysmal, Potter. Come on now, you can do better than that. Firm grip." He waggled his hand between them, raising his eyebrows at the other boy.

Harry clenched his jaw and sharply grabbed Malfoy's hand for the second time. He gripped the hand tight with all the strength he possessed and pumped it up and down three times before Malfoy snatched his hand back.

"Not that hard!" He hissed, cradling his hand against his chest. "What'd you do that for?" He whined.

Harry barely suppressed the growl climbing his throat. "You said 'firm grip'–"

"Yeah! Firm grip! Not death grip. Merlin's beard, Potter…"

It was Harry's turn to roll his eyes at the room's other occupant. "Are we done now?" He said, shifting his weight impatiently. Malfoy let his arm rest back as his side.

"Sure," he drawled, "if you're alright with being eaten alive."

Harry raised his eyebrows, waiting for Malfoy to explain. When he didn't supply the information voluntarily, Harry asked, "What do mean?"

Malfoy shrugged as he busied himself with picking imaginary flecks of dust off of his robes. "I just thought you'd want to know a few more of the rules before we go downstairs, but seeing as you're in such a hurry…"

Harry sighed and hung his head. He knew why he had to stay here. He understood the danger of living unprotected with the Dursleys. He accepted that Dumbledore had had nothing but Harry's safety in mind when he had placed him with the Malfoys, and in a way Harry's was almost beginning to get used to living with them.

But it was times like these that reminded Harry of just why he and Malfoy were not friends. The pale, pointed face boy could be absolutely insufferable at times such as these. It was as if having knowledge that other didn't brought him a sense of power. But instead of sharing that power with everyone, he chose to tout the fact that he was in on a secret that no one else knew.

Obtaining such information from him was akin to pulling teeth.

"What, Malfoy?"

"No, no. It won't matter if I tell you anyway. You'll just forget by the time we reach the hall."

"Just tell me, Malfoy," Harry ground out through his teeth.

"Well…"

"Malfoy!"

Draco's eyes flashed as his head whipped around to look at the door. "Alright, alright!" He hushed. "Don't shout."

Harry shoved the bridge of his glasses back up his nose and waited for the boy to speak.

"These are important, so do your best to memorize them. Rule Number Five: don't speak unless spoken to."

Harry quick a short nod; a lot of Malfoy's rules were similar to ones he heard from the Dursleys.

"Rule Number Six:," Draco continued as he opened the door and stepped out into the hall, "greet all guests with a bow and kiss on the hand. And I mean everyone," he said with a meaningful glance back at Harry. Harry nodded his understanding and followed Malfoy down a staircase.

"Rule Number Seven: speak clearly. Never mumble. Rule Number Eight: always maintain eye contact. Don't look away until the person speaking looks away first."

Harry was trying to file each of the new rules away in his brain, but it was hard when Malfoy was rattling them off a mile a minute. By the time they had reached the first floor's entryway, Harry had learned ten new rules but could only remember a handful of them.

"Rule Number Sixteen: always be–" But whatever it was that they always had to be was cut off by the arrival of Narcissa Malfoy.

She stopped before the pair of eleven year olds. "Don't you boys look lovely," she said with a smile which Draco returned.

"Now," she said, gently smoothing her son's hair, "do I need to remind you two to be on your best behavior tonight?"

Both Draco and Harry shook their heads. "We will, Mrs. Malfoy," Harry promised. Narcissa graced him with another small smile. "I believe you," she drawing both Harry and Draco close to her.

Harry stood in her embrace with a mixture of shock and confusion swirling in his chest. He'd known Mrs. Malfoy for less than three days, yet here she was treating him like her own son. What had he done to deserve such instant love from her? How could someone like her be married to someone so arrogant and aloof as Lucius Malfoy?

Harry didn't waste any time in reciprocating the hug. Other than Mrs Weasley, whom he had only met briefly, Harry had never had a kind, matronly woman in his life. Perhaps living at Malfoy Manor wasn't going to be as bad as he had thought.

How wrong he was.

––––––––

Malfoy Manor was alive with the sound of at least a hundred witches and wizards chattering and laughing happily in groups. They had arrived in trios and pairs, by floo and by car, some reserved and some sprightly. Harry and Draco greeted guest after guest after guest. Harry had begun to think there wasn't going to be enough room in the closet for all of the cloaks. But whenever they needed another hanger, they would find one on the rack that Harry could have sworn wasn't there before.

Despite having spent a year in the wizarding world, Harry was still a little reluctant to believe everything.

The guests were summoned into a large dining room by Lucius Malfoy where they all feasted on a splendid spread of ham, potatoes, peas, rolls, carrots, and gravy. They washed it all down with their choice of wine, water, or cranberry pumpkin juice.

While the large party were joyously consuming their dinner, Draco and Harry stood in the corner quietly, their stomachs grumbling with discontent at being deprived of such food themselves.

It was their duty to make sure that each and every one of the guests' goblets and glasses stayed full all throughout dinner. After making their rounds, they'd return to the corner and wait until they were summoned again.

Once dinner was finished and all the remaining food returned to the kitchen, the two boys followed the group into what appeared to be a ballroom.

There were brilliant grand chandeliers of silver and gold hanging from the ceiling, each filled with a hundred burning candles reflected in the polished white marble floors. Velvet cushioned chairs skirted the round room and were quickly occupied by the abundance of people in the room.

Elegant pedestals displayed delicate china vases and respectable sculpted busts of people Harry could have sworn he'd seen in the pictures decorating the halls.

There were tables of refreshments and in the corner, enchanted instruments played softly to set the mood.

Draco and Harry positioned themselves at opposite tables across the room to serve drinks and pudding.

The crowd blocked the boys' view of each other, which made Harry quite nervous. He knew exactly what he was supposed to do, but he oddly felt better when Draco was there to do it with him.

Across the room, Draco was having feelings of anxiety himself. It wasn't that he didn't trust Potter to be on his own, it was that if something did happen Draco wouldn't be there to fix the situation when it happened.

"Oi, you!"

But it wasn't Harry who happened to get into a situation.

Draco's head turned toward the direction the voice had come from. There was a portly looking witch with a rather round set of fingers snapping and waving at him. Draco hurried over, didn't say anything, but gazed at her patiently, waiting for her to voice her request.

She shoved an empty goblet in his face and wagged it back and forth. "Care to explain why this is empty?"

The young Malfoy apologized quickly, though the empty cup was no fault of his own, and extended his hand to take it from the woman. He rushed back to the table and quickly filled the goblet halfway with cranberry pumpkin juice. He returned back to the witch, who was laughing boisterously at something another witch had said, and held out her cup.

She snatched it out of his hand, some of its contents sloshing over the sides. Still chortling to herself, she took a gulp from the goblet without looking inside. Instantly, she leaned forward and spewed the juice onto Draco's crisp white shirt.

"What is this?" She roared, glaring at Draco as though he had fed her poison.

Resisting the urge to flinch away from her raised voice, Draco replied, "Cranberry pumpkin juice." He had intended for it took come out as a statement, but as the words exited his mouth, they morphed into a kind of question.

He saw the witch's reaction coming the second before it happened. Her face turned a great shade of red as she launched said pumpkin juice at the boy's face. Draco jumped as the liquid splattered his face and clothing.

"You insolent boy!" She roared. The chatter in the room subsided almost instantly as the witch's shriek rang out. "Get me a glass of wine like I told you to and clean up this mess!" She threw the goblet at Draco as she continued to hurl angry words at the terrified looking boy.

He caught the cup with shaking hands and hurried back to the table, poured the wine, and collected towels to clean up the spilled drink. His hands continued to shake as he handed the cup back to the still seething witch.

The young Malfoy got down on his hands and knees and quickly began to mop up the rose colored juice off the marble. Conversation had begun to break out again as people brushed off the incident. Draco heard not-so-quiet-whispers that made his stomach drop.

"That's Malfoy's boy, isn't it?"

"And to think he's supposed to carry on the Malfoy legacy…"

"Poor Lucius. I can't imagine what it must be like to have a son as disgraceful as that."

Draco stood up sharply from the floor, satisfied that he had cleaned all he could. But in the few moments that he had been knelt on the floor, a few people had gathered around to see what all the commotion was about. Having been focused on his cleaning, Draco didn't notice the man standing right above him.

As Draco had stood up quickly, his head had collided with the plate the man was holding. It's contents of biscuits and tarts went flying and the man jerked back in surprise. His arm had pulled back reflexively and he managed to spill his goblet of wine all down his front.

Draco's eyes flew wide; now he'd done it.

"I–I–I'm so s-sorry!" He stammered in shock and fear. "I'm so so sorry!" He lunged forward in an attempt to help the man clean himself up, but in his panic he overestimated how close he was to the man and only succeeded in to knocking him backwards.

The man gave a sharp yell as he fell into a woman standing behind him which set off a chain of terrible events. Both the man and woman fell to the ground, but not before the woman had spilled her cup on the floor and grasped at a neighboring witch for balance.

A few people saw the trio falling and lunged forward to help, but they slipped on the spilled liquid and ended up falling themselves, all of them grasping at other witches and wizards to gain support. Before Draco knew it, there were tarts and biscuits and goblets (full or otherwise) flying through the air as witch after wizard found themselves suddenly meeting the marble floor.

Draco stared in horror, frozen in his spot, at the mess he had created.

People all around the room had stopped and turned to find out what was going on. There were angry shouts and surprised laughter coming from the rooms occupants who found themselves on the floor.

With less people blocking his view, Draco could see Harry across the room, his jaw slack and his eyebrows raised into his hairline.

But this sudden thinning of the crowd also meant Draco could see the one face of the person he wished dearly that he hadn't: Lucius Malfoy. And he was livid.

––––––––

"Of all the stupid, insolent, brainless–"

"But Mr. Malfoy," Harry interrupted, "it was an accident!"

Draco shot Harry a horrified look. Stupid Potter was only going to make this worse.

"Silence!" Lucius hissed over his shoulder. He had a firm hold on both Draco and Harry's wrists and was dragging them further and further away from the scene of the disaster.

"Have you any idea how embarrassing that was for me?" He snapped, giving Draco's wrist a particularly hard squeeze. Draco bit back a yelp at the pain flaring in his wrist. "Do you?" He squeezed again.

Draco stumbled as his father savagely yanked on his arm. "I'm sorry, Father! I didn't mean–"

"Enough! I don't want to hear another word out you – either of you!" Pure acrimony dripped from each word. He took a sharp turn and pulled the pair down a flight of stairs. Still in shock from what had happened, Draco barely noticed where they were going until they turned into a terribly familiar hallway.

"No, no, no, no, no, please, Father, please don't, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sor–"

Smack.

Lucius had suddenly rounded on his son and struck his hand across his cheek. The elder Malfoy's mouth was pressed into the tightest of lines and his jaw could have been made of steel.

If Harry's heart had been racing before, it was nothing compared to the way it was beating now. Lucius snatched ahold of Draco's wrist once more and continued on his rampage down the hall. Harry wasn't watching where they were going anymore.

Instead his eyes were fixed on reddening cheek of the pale haired boy next to him. He only looked ahead of him once they came to an abrupt stop. Mr. Malfoy released their wrists and pulled his wand from his sleeve.

They were stood in front of the giant floor to ceiling metal box Harry had discovered in his wanderings.

Lucius tapped his wand to the handle and pulled open the heavy door.

Beside Harry, Draco had begun to breath rather heavily.

"No…Father, please," he whispered. If Harry didn't know any better, he'd say Draco was scared. No, not scared – terrified.

"In," the elder Malfoy commanded through clenched teeth.

"Please, Father! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" Draco was beyond refusing at this point: he was pleading. He was visibly shaking, even in the low light of the corridor.

"I won't say it again, Draco." The candles cast a fearsome shadow over Lucius Malfoy's face as he lowered his chin and glared at his son. He looked about ready to murder his own son. Harry quickly grabbed Draco's hand and pulled him toward the box.

But Draco was surprisingly strong. He leaned away from Harry and dug his heels into the ground, refusing to be led into the box. Not wanting to incur more wrath from Mr. Malfoy, Harry hurried behind Draco and physically pushed him inside.

No sooner had Harry stepped inside the box than the door was closed and all sense of his surroundings disappeared.

There was a loud bang as Draco threw himself at the door and began to beat his fists against it. "Let me out! Please! Father, I'm sorry, just please let me out! Please!"

Harry jumped forward and pulled Draco away from the door, knowing that if the boy continued to hit the door like that, he was going to wind up hurting himself. Draco struggled as Harry's wrapped his arms around Malfoy's chest and heaved backwards.

"Let me go! Let me go!" Draco shrieked. His arms flailed as he struggled to get back to door.

"Malfoy, stop! You're going to hurt yourself! Ow!" He yelped as one of Malfoy's wildly flailing arms caught him in the face. "You're hurting me! Stop moving!"

Despite Draco's shouts and screams, Harry continued to backpedal until his back connected with the back of the cabinet. He tucked his chin into his shoulder as Draco continued to struggle and strain against him.

Harry didn't know how long they stayed like that until Draco eventually exhausted himself and his screams gave way to sobs. Harry released him and Draco immediately slouched down to the floor.

The young Malfoy pulled his knees up to chest, crossing his arms on top, and buried his face in them, his fearful sobs muted by arms. Harry slid down the wall and sat crisscross next to the boy. Not sure if he should comfort Malfoy or leave him be, Harry went with his gut instinct and stretched an arm over the Slytherin's shoulders.

He felt Malfoy flinch at the unexpected touch, but took it as a good sign that he didn't pull away.

So in the dark, the two boys sat, side by side. One offering comfort, the other taking what he so desperately needed.

And they waited.

––––––––

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