A.N.-  Well, it's finally here… *grins*  And, as it's been so long, I'm gonna be generous and give ya two new chapters!  Well, yeah, anywayz, I'd like to thank my reviewers since my little A.N. last time:  Deity(just wait for it!  Snogs comin' soon, I promise!), Bienfoy, ratgirl, and katrina(I know that, technically, Harry isn't in the cupboard anymore.  But, as it's my story and I'm an evil,evil author, I'm saying the Dursleys moved him back after 5th year.  'Kay?)

Now, go, read, enjoy!  Oh, and as always, mucho thanx to Andrea!  C-ya'll!

Chapter 3

                Whispers invaded his senses, coming from the blackness on every side of him.  They were at first completely unintelligible, making no sense to the hearing sharpened by lack of vision.  Slowly, agonizingly and painfully slowly, they focused into distinct voices and phrases.  An immediate wish for ignorance again accompanied the knowledge of what the voices were truly saying.

                "…worthless freak…"

                "…there is no good and evil, only power…"

                "…the losing side…"

                And the worst one, above them all.  The one tearing at the mind, causing agony and pain in its own right.  That horrible phrase residing in all these dreams.  It could not be gotten rid of, hidden from, or protected against.  And it tore apart the world every time it was heard.  "Kill the spare."

                Then the whispers went silent, and that was the worst part.  This was when the other voice came.  That voice, so achingly familiar and terrifying yet convincing for all its finality.  Because it spoke the same words every time, every meeting, every dream, every memory.  How could it not be believed?  "It's all your fault, Harry."

                The raven-haired boy shot up in bed, choking back the screams aching to be let loose.  He could not—would not—scream and alert everyone to this distress.  He didn't need or deserve their help with this.  It wasn't until his chest started aching that he realized he was holding his breath in an effort to contain the yells.  Gasps of air relieved the pressure as he brought his knees to his chest and wrapped his skinny arms around them.

                The door was flung open, albeit silently, at that moment.  A frantic Draco was standing there, searching for the source of absolute panic he'd felt just seconds before.  All he could find was Harry huddled on his bed, hardly moved by the sudden intrusion.  But he had noticed it.  "What in the world are you doing, Draco?"

                Realization dropped on the blonde with that comment.  "You had a nightmare, didn't you?"  At Harry's surprised gaze, he continued, "I'm, well, basically a weak empathy.  Only pick up really strong emotions.  And this room was just radiating terror."

                Harry was suitably amazed at the revelation but fought to maintain his indifferent attitude.  "Well, that's really great and all, but you can see that I'm fine.  You can go back to sleep now."

                He received an even greater surprise when Draco let out a light laugh and collapsed on the end of Harry's bed.  "You have got to be kidding me.  After those kinds of feelings?  I don't think I'll be able to sleep a good week at least.  Which makes me wonder how in Merlin's name you've managed to put up with it for two years."

                "One horrifically slow day at a time, believe me.  It was worse, though.  About halfway through this past year, they found a way to- I don't know- block my connection to Voldemort or something like that.  Before that, I had the added joy of knowing exactly what he was doing and to who every minute of every day."  Harry's eyes were staring at something very far away as he spoke.

Draco shuddered at the mere thought of experiencing something like that.  He started to reach out to Harry, to comfort the lost looking teen, then realized exactly what he was doing and withdrew his hand.  To break the somber mood, Draco offered up a suggestion.  "Well, since it seems like neither of us is going to sleep again tonight, what say we continue with- what did Tori call it?- our 'bonding'?"

A small smile broke on Harry's face as he sprawled on the bed opposite Draco in agreement.  "Okay, I've got a question that's been nagging at me.  What exactly are your thoughts and or plans on the Death Eater slash Voldemort side of things?"

It wasn't a completely unexpected question, and Draco broke into a small smile of his own.  "Counter question.  Considering that I'm here of all places for the summer, what do you think they are?"  Harry simply shook his head, telling Draco that he wanted to hear from Draco's own mouth.  "Okay, okay.  I truly think they are all a bunch of idiots.  While I sometimes agree that muggles are almost inferior, I also believe that they are absolutely intriguing."

Harry pondered this for a moment then spoke again.  "I'm going to figure that your father doesn't know you think this way.  So my next question is, what happens when he decides it's time for you to be initiated?  Would it be possible for him to force you?"

"Before I answer that, how did you know about my father?" Draco asked in bewilderment.

"Fourth year.  Third task.  Only one death eater in the circle was addressed by his first name.  Give you three guesses who that was, and the last two don't count."  Harry's voice was broken and detached.  This time, Draco didn't resist the urge to touch him.  He rested his hand on Harry's upper-arm, just long enough to bring him back to the present.

Draco then gave his response to further cement Harry's presence in the here-and-now.  "As soon as we graduate, I'm out of that house.  I've been saving money for years now so I can support myself afterwards.  I've even been toying with the idea of joining the right side, your side.  But that's still a full year away, so I haven't decided anything solid yet."

And so they went, all night back and forth with asking and replying.  Just before dawn, Harry's questions and answers came more and more slowly as he drifted off to sleep.  Draco watched the sleeping form for a few minutes, enjoying the moment.  Then, just as the sun broke over the horizon and peeked through a break in the curtains, Draco also allowed himself to surrender to the arms of sleep.

                Tori was suspiciously pleased with herself all that day.  The self-satisfied grin hardly left her face.  This, to Draco, just screamed 'devious planning'.  And, as soon as they were alone for a moment, he called her on it.  "Okay, Tori, I know you saw us this morning, and I know you've been wanting to play match-maker.  But quit while you're ahead before something really gets screwed up."

                "Oh, but my dear Draco, my nefarious schemes are going along just as I had planned and carefully plotted!  Why should I give that up at such a crucial stage?" she asked mock-innocently before dropping the act and rolling her eyes.  "Seriously, Draco, there's no plotting or match-making going on from my end.  I'm really glad you two are getting along, but I have had absolutely zero to do with it."

                Draco sighed and glared at the girl in complete exasperation.  "I know you haven't done anything, Tori.  Yet.  But those little wheels with the meddling label on them are just spinning in your head.  I know it.  You know it.  Admit defeat, and let it go."

                "I think what it is that you and I both know, Draco, is that I don't admit defeat."  Draco was about to point out that this statement was, in and of itself, an admission that she was up to something, but Tori continued speaking.  "Especially when there's nothing to admit to."

                Draco rolled his eyes but let the issue slip anyway.  Tori would admit to nothing, per usual.  Instead, he moved onto another question that was picking at his brain.  "Tori, you obviously know what those people do to Harry.  Why is he still living with them?"

                The jovial mischief in Tori's eyes faded to a frustrated sadness.  "He won't admit to anything.  It's fairly difficult to help someone who denies he even needs help every step of the way."  She let out a low growl of unadulterated annoyance.  "You wouldn't even believe the number of stairs he's fallen down or doors he's walked into since I've gotten to know him during the summers.  It's unreal!"

                This information didn't sit well in Draco's mind.  He didn't understand why until he thought back on Harry at school.  "Why would he even use those excuses?  We've both seen him at school.  He's not a clumsy person.  He has plenty of faults, but that isn't one of them.  If anything, he's the exact opposite."

                Tori sighed and flopped back into the thick cushions of the couch they were sitting on.  "Gods above, Draco, I know that!  But can you imagine if I went to one of the teachers, or even Dumbledore, and confronted them with this?  'Yeah, professor, he won't admit to anything, so you'll have to do it completely against his will, but…'  They'd want proof, especially as it's Harry, because something about being with blood relatives gives him an added protection against Voldemort.  But what's that gonna do if his relatives kill him first!"

                Tori was almost on the verge of hysterical now, and true to Tori's background, it came through in her voice instead of outward appearance.  She'd only lived in Italy until she was seven, but the accent still came through loud and clear when she was particularly upset.  "Dei sopra {1}, Draco!  I just wish on all the stars that I could help him.  I wish he'd let someone help him.  Before it's too late."

{1}=Gods above