A/N: ANOTHER! This story will probably be coming to an end here shortly; we'll see how it goes… In the meantime, if you have any suggestions or ideas on where this story should go, I'd love to hear from you!

Hope you enjoy!

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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"I spy with my little eye something that's… small and black."

Draco's eyes drifted listlessly around the room, searching for the object that would win him this round of I Spy. He and Harry had retreated to Draco's room after an unexciting lunch of ham with potatoes and gravy leftover from last night's party. Draco hadn't been able to eat much, the impending visit to his father's study looming over his head.

After lunch, Harry had done his best to keep Draco's mind occupied, asking him questions about what kind of books Draco like to read, whether he knew how to paint or draw, or if could he play any instruments (piano and harp, Harry learned).

When Harry had run out of questions, he had resorted to teaching Draco the Muggle children's game called I Spy. Draco had quite enjoyed himself at first, but as the hours wore on, he grew less and less fond of locating minuscule objects within his room.

So far, Draco was winning, much due to the fact that he was far more familiar with the room than Harry was.

The two were both lying on their backs, side by side, on Draco's grand four poster bed. Draco's eyes continued to the roam the room, stopping only when they fell on the desk in the corner.

"Is it my quill?" He drawled. The mattress bounced slightly as Harry shook his head back and forth. "Nope, try again."

"Umm… is it the door knob?"

"No."

Draco frowned and raked his eyes over the room again and, spotting a pair of his black shoes nestled next to the door, guessed again. But once more, he was wrong.

"Do you give up?" Draco didn't like the triumph in Harry's voice.

"Fine," he huffed. "What is it?"

He looked over at the black-haired boy as Harry raised a hand and point up the canopy above them. Draco followed his finger and could only just make out the wriggling shape of a small spider scuttling its way down on of the posts.

Draco scoffed at the unfairness of having to locate something so small and terribly hard to find. "How did you even see that?" He sneered at the bed's other occupant.

Harry smiled cheekily and tapped the rim of his glasses. "They didn't give me these for nothing," he said with a chuckle.

Malfoy rolled his eyes before looking back up to watch the spider's descent.

"Your turn, Malfoy."

They played the Muggle game until the sun's vibrant yellow began to deepen and painted the treetops crimson and rose.

Harry had just discovered Malfoy's something large and white when Mrs. Malfoy appeared in the doorway, the warm sunset tones accenting her high cheekbones and striking blue eyes.

Draco pushed himself up from his position on his stomach and swung his legs over the side of the bed. "Is it time for supper?" He asked, feeling as though a ball of lead had been dropped into his stomach.

Narcissa nodded quietly, an unreadable expression on her face. "Come," she said with a wave of her hand. Draco and Harry scrambled off the bed and followed her wordlessly down into the dining room.

They sat in the exact spots that they had on Harry's first night there: Mrs. Malfoy to the right of the head, Draco to the left, and Harry on Draco's left. Mr. Malfoy's seat, however, remained empty.

Dinner was consumed in silence, the only sounds to be heard were when they sipped from their goblets and when they scraped the bottom of their soup bowls.

No one seemed to be very hungry, however. There was plenty of soup left in their bowls by the time Dobby came to clear it away. Harry felt bad for wasting so much uneaten food, but didn't think he could possibly stomach another bite.

They continued to sit in silence as Dobby whisked away their cups, napkins, and silverware. Harry twiddled his fingers underneath the table, unsure of if he was allowed to leave the table or not. He decided to wait and follow Draco's lead.

He'd almost forgotten why he'd spent the whole afternoon distracting Malfoy when Mrs. Malfoy made a gentle reminder that Draco needed to go to his father's study.

"Can't you come with me?" Draco asked, keeping his eyes fixed on the patterned tablecloth.

"You know I would if I had a choice," Narcissa said softly, ducking her head and trying to catch Draco's gaze.

Harry watched as Draco's jaw clenched reflexively as his eyes slid shut. Draco's skin usually had a chalky pallor to it but, now, he looked downright ghostly.

The young Malfoy slid off his chair and forced his leaden feet to carry him from the room. Harry chewed his lip momentarily, wondering if he should follow Draco or not. Instinct took over before Harry knew what was happening and he found himself scrambling out of his chair and taking off after Malfoy.

He caught up with Draco at the top of the staircase. Neither boy said a word as they walked along the corridors but Harry could feel the unspoken gratitude from Malfoy.

They went up one more flight of stairs and down another hallway before stopping in front of the great double doors of Lucius Malfoy's study. Draco took a unsteady breath, his hand jiggling nervously at his side.

"Malfoys are brave," whispered Draco. "Malfoys don't show fear. They don't show fear…"

He poised a fist to knock, his vision tunneling, this situation all too familiar.

"Malfoys are brave." Before his courage failed him, Draco knocked four times.

At his father's smooth come in, Draco shot a final uneasy look at Harry and disappeared behind the mahogany doors.

––––––––

Harry turned the page of ancient book on the table. He was sat in the one of the Malfoys' many libraries at a table with a book he had randomly pulled from a shelf. He hadn't really been paying much attention to it; something about ghouls and periwinkle flowers.

He kept shooting flustered glances at his watch, watching the minutes tick by at an unbearably slow rate. Draco had been in his father's study for almost three hours now. The sun had long since disappeared and the persistent stridulating of the crickets was in full effect.

Harry pushed back from the table with a sigh, his chair tipping back onto its hind legs. He turned his head to look out the window and watched the blinking yellow lights of the summer fireflies as they floated in and out of the open frame.

The chair legs slammed back onto the floor as Harry shifted his weight forward once more. Wood screamed against wood as the black-haired boy pushed away from the table. He got to his feet and began to pace up and down the shelves, looking at the titles but not truly seeing them.

Harry never thought he'd see the day where he was actually worried about Malfoy. He never thought he'd ever care enough to worry about him. Yet, something about the sheer terror Harry saw in Draco's face whenever Lucius Malfoy was around ignited a flame in Harry's chest that he usually reserved for his friends.

Oh, Merlin.

Was Draco his friend?

No, no, no. He couldn't be. The two hated each other. Absolutely detested the other's very existence. But there was something about what Malfoy had said last night in the box. Something about the sincerity of his multitude of apologies that made Harry's heart twist in his chest.

Sure, Draco had practically been a terror during their time at school but he wasn't bad. Not on his own. It was almost as if he had been conditioned to be that way. To treat everyone other than fellow Slytherins like nothing more than disgusting slum on the side of the road.

If Harry had been raised like Draco, he couldn't say for certain that he wouldn't've turned out the same. Yes, the Dursleys could be cruel and cold, but it was nothing compared to the way that Lucious Malfoy treated his son.

Harry was running his running his fingers over a set of black leather-bound books when he suddenly heard hurried footsteps coming down the hall.

"Harry?" A voice called, sounding anxious and upset.

Harry slipped out from between the shelves and made a beeline for the doorway. He was almost to it when Mrs. Malfoy appeared in the frame.

"Oh, Harry," she gasped breathlessly. Had she been running? "Harry, come quickly. We haven't much time."

And with that she whipped around and sped back down the hallway. Nonplussed, Harry took off behind her without question. Whatever it was that was happening clearly had her on edge. He followed Mrs. Malfoy around corners and down a few staircases before they returned to the set of mahogany doors that Harry found himself at far too frequently.

Instead of knocking at the doors however, Narcissa Malfoy barged straight through them and went straightaway to the stone hearth. She crouched down beside something Harry couldn't quite see. He stepped around Narcissa and didn't bother stifling his sudden gasp for there, lying bloodied, bruised, and unmoving, was Draco.

"Quick," said Narcissa, breaking snapping Harry's attention back to her, "fetch the floo powder from the mantel."

Harry looked up at the mantel overhead searching for the object in question. It took him a second to realize that he had no idea what he was even looking for.

"Floo powder?" He repeated uncertainly.

"The green vase," Mrs. Malfoy instructed as she began to gather Draco gently in her arms. She shushed him softly as the boy gave a whimper of pain at being moved. "Shh, Mummy's here, dragon, Mummy's here.

Harry snatched the green vase off of the polished wood and quickly returned to Mrs. Malfoy's side. Narcissa tipped her head towards the empty grate. "Toss in a bit and once you see the flames, step in," she said, as if standing in fire was a completely normal thing to do.

Knowing, however, that this was not the time for questions, Harry did as he was told. He grabbed a handful of the grey sand inside of the vase and forcefully tossed it into the fireplace. Immediately, fierce neon green flames burst up towards the chimney. Though the fire was large and roaring, Harry felt no heat coming from the grate.

Narcissa rose slowly from the ground, the limp form of her son held tightly in her arms. She strode directly into the flames, having to duck slightly to fit fully. Harry quickly followed her in.

"Hold onto my arm," she said firmly to which Harry obeyed immediately. The flames danced on their skin and robes, but they didn't burn. If anything, it was almost akin to a warm summer's breeze.

"Spinner's End!" Cried Narcissa and suddenly Harry's world was enveloped by a tornado of spinning green flames as his stomach dropped out beneath him. As they spun round and round, faster than Harry could follow, he caught glimpses of other fireplaces and found himself gazing into other people's homes for a mere fraction of a second.

As suddenly as it had started, it stopped. Harry stumbled as his feet returned to solid earth and windmilled his arms wildly to regain his balance.

Narcissa Malfoy was already striding out of the fireplace and shouting for who Harry assumed was the house's owner.

"Severus!" She called, briskly striding towards the couch the rested in front of the very fireplace they had exited. "Severus!"

She lowered the battered son down onto the cushions, brushing back his hair as he gave yet another whimper. "I know, baby, I know," she whispered, kneeling by his side as she grasped the hand Draco had unwittingly extended.

"Severus!"

Severus? thought Harry. Surely she couldn't mean–

Professor Severus Snape came whisking around the corner, his robes flapping about in the batlike way that only his did.

Harry swallowed hard. If there was anyone in the world that he disliked more than the Dursleys, it was Hogwarts' Potions Master: Snape. Snape had it out for Harry since the very first lesson in September. Dumbledore had said it was because Snape had hated Harry's father, but Harry felt that wasn't completely true.

Snape had a sort of soft spot for Malfoy and Harry wondered if it was because Draco's parents were on friendly terms with the man.

"You can't be here," Snape hissed as he swept around the couch and knelt beside Narcissa, completely ignoring Harry.

"Severus, please, I can't heal him at home. I don't have the supplies." She swiped a thumb over a rapidly purpling bruise on Draco's cheekbone. "It's never been this bad before," she breathed. "I swore I'd protect him from this, I swore." Tears had began to well up in her pale blue eyes. "I've failed him, Severus," she said, her voice hitching as she spoke.

Snape rose to his feet, pulling the bitterly weeping woman up with him. "You cannot be here," he repeated. "You need to return home immediately." He swept over to the fireplace and snatched a jar not unlike the one at the Malfoy's off the mantelpiece and thrust it into Harry's hands.

The tall man hurried back over to the couch, scooped up Malfoy, and hurried back to the fireplace, Narcissa trailing behind him. "I don't understand, Severus," she said, taking her son back from the man as she stepped into the great.

"I'll send supplies as soon as I have a chance, but you must understand that this is not where you should be."

"Alright, but why? Please, Severus, you're the only one who can help."

The answer to Narcissa's question of 'why' suddenly swooped around the corner.

There, with eyes alight with unconcealed ire, was Lucius Malfoy.

Harry heard Mrs. Malfoy's gasp and groan of, "No." And before he knew what he was doing, Harry had plunged his hand into the jar, cast the powder into the grate, and shouted "Malfoy Manor!" with all his might.

In an instant, Snape's home had disappeared in a flurry of smoke and green flames.

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