A/N: Sorry for the long wait, but I thank you all for the reviews and emails. It makes me happy that my first fic is doin' okay. Well I hope you continue to enjoy it and I apologize for any misspellings, I didn't have any of my HP books with me.

Disclaimers: The name of the chapter is also a name of a chapter in Flowers in the Attic. I don't own that and I don't own Harry Potter. But I DO own an evil cat. And if anybody wants her they can have her.



Minutes like Hours
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"Bloody hell Harry!" Ron exclaimed as soon as they arrived at the Burrow. As soon as they had stepped out of the Floo Network, he had dragged Harry immediately up to his room. Ron was still reeling from his few minute with the Dursleys.

"I know, I know." Harry sighed as he dropped on to Ron's bed. "And that wasn't the worst you had ever seen. It was amazing that they even opened up their fireplace for you guys. Remember what happened last time you guys traveled that way?"

Ron nodded and collapsed next to him on the bed. "Is your Uncle like that ALL the time to you?"

Harry stared at Ron's ceiling and sighed again, "Yeah. That is his usual behavior. It was worse when I use to live in cupboard under the stairs."

Ron shook his head. "How can people be cruel to their own kids?"

"I'm not their kid." Harry pointed out.

"So? You are under his care right" Ron turned and met Harry's eyes, "Muggles are so strange."

"Well," Harry began, "Aren't there wizarding families that are cruel to their kids?"

Ron looked thoughtful at the concept. "Well I don't think anyone in Gryffindor has bad families."

"Hufflepuffs don't strike me as people from un-loving homes." Harry conceded.

"Ravenclaw?" Ron asked as Harry shrugged.

They both looked at each other and spoke at the same time, which was okay because they both said the same thing.

"Slytherin."

Ron pulled himself up into a sitting position and looked down a Harry. "You think? Can wizards abuse their kids?"

Harry nodded, "I'm sure a wizard can hurt their kids just as much as any muggle could. I know that. Slytherins seem like some could come from those type of families."

"You mean like Malfoy?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't know, maybe."

"Are you serious?" Ron asked as Harry pulled himself up. "That bloody git? You think Mister Daddy-Loves-ME-So-Much-I-Get-Everything-On-a-Silver-Platter would come from a bad family? I mean I'm sure the entire lot is dark wizards therefore they WOULD be considered a bad family but not in the sense that they are BAD and stuff but they wouldn't be BAD, bad---"

"Ron, you're babbling."

"Thanks for stopping me."

"No problem."

"Can you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

"I think that it is my mom yelling...."

"RON, HARRY COME DOWN HERE!!!!!"

"Yeah that is your mom."

Ron and Harry stood up from the bed and made their way down to the kitchen where Mrs. Weasley was waiting for them. Harry noticed an odd look in her eyes as he took a seat at the kitchen table. Apparently Ron noticed it too.

"Mom? Are you okay?" Ron asked joining Harry at the table.

Mrs. Weasley busied herself with a plate of food and didn't met the boys' eyes. "Why yes, Ron. Everything is fine. Everything fine."

Ron gave Harry a confused look and shrugged. "Then what did you want us down here for? And where are the twins? We haven't heard from them since before we left to get Harry."

Harry saw the pained look that flashed across Mrs. Weasley's face. And he knew that she was remembering what had happened when her and Ron had gone to pick him up. Ron and Mrs. Weasley had told Vernon Dursley that they were going to use the Floo Network and pick up Harry at 11:00 AM on Harry's birthday. What they didn't expect to see when arriving, was Harry and the great giant brute of Uncle Vernon in the middle of a fight. Harry had been pacing watching as the minutes seemed to pass like hours, waiting for the Weasleys when he accidentally knock over one of Aunt Petunia's favorite vases. (she had like 20 of them but that didn't matter) Vernon, whose nerves were already drawn as tight as they could have been, snapped at Harry's mistake and had his mind set on giving Harry a beating that he would never forget.

Ron and his mother arrived soon after Vernon had begun to strike Harry, much to Harry's luck. The two were shocked at the display and pulled Harry away from his uncle and into the Floo Network as fast as they could. On an afterthought, Mrs. Weasley pulled in Harry's trunk of school supplies and Hedwig's cage.

Amazingly Harry wasn't hurt all that bad. He had a few darkening bruises on his shoulders and upper arms, but that wasn't anything a few healing charms couldn't fix. He had had worse beatings from Quidditch. But that didn't change the fact that Vernon had abused him. For some reason, Mrs. Weasley and Ron had been making a bigger deal out of it than Harry had.

But he guessed that when you had been locked in a cupboard under the stairs for the first eleven years of your life, a little beating doesn't strike you as a big thing.

"Mom?" Ron's voice broke in through Harry's thoughts, "Are you sure you are okay? You're acting funny."

Mrs. Weasley spun around and looked at Ron and Harry. "I-oh----" she started but then her eyes brighten as she noticed something at the door to the kitchen.

It was then Harry noticed voices coming from the other room. Among the voices Harry recognized a familiar Irish accent.

"Seamus?" Harry asked, looking at Ron. They both exchanged looks and jumped up and ran into the adjoining room.

"SURPRISE!!" a group of voices chorused.

Harry looked around the room in surprised. Seamus Finnigan, Hermione Granger, Fred and George Weasley, Dean Thomas, Neville Longbottom, Lavender Brown, and Parvati Patil stood in a party decorated room.

"Happy birthday!" Hermione came up and embraced Harry in a great hug. Harry was in shock that the entire (soon to be) sixth year Gryffindors arrived for his birthday. From the look of it, Ron hadn't been let in on the knowledge of the surprise party. His face had gone pale which made his freckles stand out.

"Speech! Speech!" the Gryffindors began to chant as they circled Harry, all grinning from ear to ear.

Harry looked at each of them in turned and struggled to speak, "Gee, um, I don't know what to say..."

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Draco felt incredibly stupid as he stood in front of the mirror that hung on one of the walls of the attic. He was measuring himself to see how tall he had grown over the year. He took a step back to examine where he now stood.

He frowned in disappointment. The line of where his head now stood hadn't have moved sine when he was first put into the attic. Which means he wasn't much taller than a pre-teen. He hadn't have received his growth spurt yet, (unlike Harry who had of course received his early in fourth year, therefore he was growing taller each day. Well at least, maybe he was growing each day, Draco had not seen him in over a year)

Draco stared at his reflection in disgust. Once upon a time, Draco used to think he was incredibly attractive for a eleven, twelve, thirteen and fourteen year old. But now he could barely look at himself without feeling the urge to throw up.

His hair had once been the perfect shade of pale blond, and his eyes a light gray. Now the blond had turned faded and brittle. It had lost any pigmentation it had originally had. The same had happened to his eyes. They looked washed out and tired.

And he hadn't grown.

Why?

Draco suspected that it was because of a lack of sunlight. That was all he was focused on now. Everything that went wrong with him up in the attic, was because of the lack of sunlight. The sunlight seemed to be having a positive effect on his mother. She came up once a week o check on him and bring him things like spell books and sometimes candies.

But he only seemed to notice her livelihood. They way that her once pale face began to take on color and her eyes grew brighter each day.

House Elves brought him up three meals a day. They would sneak in quietly enough that Draco never seemed to notice when they would come, even when he waited to see them. And the House Elves would return to pick up almost full plates.

Draco had begun to eat less and less.

Maybe that could be a reason why he wasn't growing.

Here he was a sixteen year old that was the size of a thirteen year old.

He walked away from the mirror and over to his bed to where his spell books lay. Picking up the top one, he flopped down on the large bed. He suspected that his eyes were growing worse because of his constant squinting in an attempt to study. He could only study during the day when the dark room seemed to lighten a bit.

Laying back on the bed, he glance around the room. His prison. It was a fairly large room, but the furniture in it made it look smaller than it really was. There was old Malfoy junk that was no longer needed in the Manor. The moth eaten bed took up the most room and the old wardrobe took up the other side of the room. Boxes and trunks where the other pieces that littered the room.

But it was hard to see all of this.

It was too dark.

Once earlier in his confinement, Draco had tripped in the dark over something and broke his arm. He had laid in agony until his mother had come to check on him a few days later. The hours had dragged on like months waiting for her to find him.

He still didn't understand why his father wouldn't even know that he was still alive. Nothing made sense. His mother had never acted like this before. His father had made sure she stayed in her place. Also, his father was very proud of his heir, why would he not know he was even alive anymore?

Nothing made sense!

Draco jumped up off the bed to return in front of the mirror. He suddenly had this urge to check and see if he was still there. To make sure he hadn't faded. He stood directly in front of the mirror, cupping his elbows for warmth.

He was still there, he wasn't gone yet.

The mirror clucked at him and chided, "You need to get out more dear."