The next two days very much followed that pattern, at least for Draco. He was first to the library each morning after that Friday, and spent most of the day there, alone in that same little corner of the library, studying and memorising in solitary silence. He didn't sleep much after that night either, not as much as he was used to; but he always got this way as the nights got colder... In the dungeons they felt the effects of the slowly cooling Scottish weather very much indeed, and for a while he was resigned to getting very little sleep. Friday wasn't the first time, this year or last, he had drifted off in the library, but it was his own fault and he blamed himself for the lack of willpower. All of Saturday was spent either avoiding curious friends, avoiding Pansy Parkinson, or studying...which corresponded quite nicely. Draco sincerely doubted that Pansy had so much as the slightest idea how to spell 'library', let alone used it.

With Hermione's invaluable advice on memorising the regulations, Draco found that learning them no longer seemed an impossible, uphill task, and slowly but surely he found he knew them. Just as Hermione had said, actually...most of them were merely common sense, stupid things that he was amazed anyone even bothered writing down! Sunday, the day of his second animagi lesson, dawned bright and cold, and found Draco asleep, this time in his actual bedroom, curled up along the top end of the four poster, with his arms wrapped around himself. Tradition or not, having them sleep in the dungeons was nothing short of heinous, in his opinion. He bet that when Potter woke in the morning, he couldn't see his own breath hang in the air...

Thinking about Potter again. He had somehow managed to avoid the 'Gryff gang' all Saturday, yet more this year than ever the Boy who Lived had haunted his thoughts. It was irritating, and yet he couldn't quite shake the absent habit of checking himself more often that he should have to, only to find himself musing, yet again, on Potter. "Fuck Potter. Or rather, don't." Draco murmured, voice sleepy still, a drowsy slur to it as he edited his own words quickly and focused on what he had to do today. He should get breakfast, but couldn't quite work up any enthusiasm for it: It was late in the day, all his favourites would be gone and even that which was left would be cold, unappetising to say the least. Musing on it as he hauled himself into the shower, shivering, he decided against it without really ever having been considering it at all, and once he had dressed he planned to head instead to the library. Besides, the Great Hall would be crowded and noisy, and Draco was an introvert by nature...he played to the crowds when he had to, but as he grew up he began to resent the kind of attention that bought him, preferring friends whose conversation actually interested him, and whose intelligence matched his own. Crabbe and Goyle, for example, had become less and less absorbing as he grew up, and he found himself avoiding them...not that it was particularly challenging. If he stepped around a corner it would exhaust their logic attempting to follow him.

Instead he pocketed a chocolate frog from a store beneath his bed, to eat while he worked, and grabbed his bag from the floor, where he had thrown it last night, drying and tidying his hair briefly in the mirror before heading out. It had been charmed to make what was apparently scintillating conversation, but its inane comments struggled even to achieve sentience, and when cursing it had failed, he had resorted to threatening it. Remarking that he was 'prepared to risk seven years bad luck' had earned him a glare, but blissful silence. There was something creepy about having a talking mirror...even a mirror that now whimpered nervously as he passed was slightly disconcerting.

He passed away the rest of the morning in the library, a much more satisfying task than previously now that he was properly awake, and by the time he adjourned for lunch he was confident that, given that afternoon's study, he would have no problem. He was even looking forward to a lesson that, a few short days ago, he had been dreading, relishing the chance to prove himself after last week's humiliation. Besides, he hadn't thought about Potter once since he got up. Did pondering ways to not think about Potter count?

Somehow, over lunch, Rosier talked Draco into an impromptu trip to the Hogs head, in Hogsmeade. In an unusually cheerful mood, he agreed, and a group of four or five Slytherins spent the evening in the village. It had been a while since Draco had been to Hogsmeade, actually, and (although they all avoided the Shrieking Shack on unspoken agreement) he enjoyed himself. Enduring a few barbed remarks about how much 'studying' he had been doing didn't bother him, since he could hardly disagree or explain, and the group distracted themselves throwing newly-purchased dung bombs over some third year Gryffs...which proved more satisfying all 'round. Childish, perhaps, but there was a perverse fun to being immature once in a while.

Draco returned to Hogwarts in brighter spirits than he had left it, having indulged his sweet tooth and bought more sugar quills than he knew what to do with...in fact, having bought more sweets than was decent for one single person, which he stashed under his bed before hurrying down to dinner. He was hungry, for a change, since he didn't generally eat much, and was only halfway through his meal before, glancing up aimlessly, he caught his Godfather's eye. Snape was not smiling. Draco felt his stomach tighten, appetite instantly vanishing, suddenly nervous. Snape stood, beckoning to the frowning Draco with one miniscule movement of his head. Dumbledore, as though following some unspoken cue, nodded to a querying look from McGonagall and followed Severus out. Before Draco knew it he was pushing his plate away, making muttered apologies to his friends and walking away. Despite his nerves, he knew what this was about. Despite his nerves, he was angry with Severus. How dare his godfather spoil his happy mood? How dare he?

"Yes?" he snapped, catching up to Severus quickly: the two were almost equal in height, and frowning. The older man studied him in silence as they proceeded through the halls, and Draco found himself shrinking away from his gaze instinctively, suddenly defensive and wary. They were heading towards Dumbledore's office. Last year it had been Umbridge's, and while he hadn't thought as badly of her as most, he had to admit that Dumbledore's décor was more tasteful...

"Say something. What have I done?" Draco demanded, churlishly, hating the look in his godfather's eyes and silently wishing Severus would speak...say anything. But the frowning Professor just studied his godson in sad silence as they walked, only breaking that silence to bark the password that admitted them to Dumbledore. Draco had been here before, many a time, and yet it had never felt like this...even knowing he had done something wrong, even knowing he was about to get a dressing down from one of the two men he honestly feared. He felt slightly dizzy, with nerves and shock and unreality, yet even as he struggled to keep his balance he shrugged Severus's steadying hand from his shoulders. "You don't hav-," he started to mutter, but was interrupted, realising with a start of surprise that the two of them had reached Dumbledore's office.

"Severus? Mister Malfoy? Enter, enter..." Dumbledore trilled, and Draco actually had to be gently pushed inside by his godfather now, wishing he could turn and run even as the office door slid shut behind him. "Do sit, Severus, and you, Draco..." the headmaster added, and two chairs seemed to bloom from the end of his wand, appearing in front of the cluttered desk, behind which Dumbledore perched. Severus sat. Draco didn't. Draco stood, staring at the floor stupidly, as though he could burn away the flagstones simply with the intensity of his gaze. He really wished he could. "Draco..." Snape warned, and he sighed as his godson wrestled his arm from his grasp, frowning. "Don't be foolish, sit down," he chided, and this time Draco didn't resist, but let himself be pulled into a chair reluctantly. All the time he could feel the gimlet gaze, milky blue eyes watching his every move over the gilt rims of half-moon glasses.

The silence was heavy, the little office suddenly seeming to shrink around him, and Draco's frown deepened with the tightening claustrophobia, both professors watching him expectantly. What did they want him to say? Sorry? Sorry he hadn't told them, sorry he had been weak enough to let all this happen? "Sorry." He whispered awkwardly, staring into his cupped hands where they rested on his lap, twisting them nervously as he spoke. Snape swore, under his breath, and he and the headmaster exchanged meaningful looks before turning back to Draco. Dumbledore began to speak, slowly and thoughtfully, watching the sixth year gravely all the time.

"Draco, I spoke to Poppy Pomfrey this morning, and she told me you-"

"Don't patronise me!" Draco snapped, immediately surprised at himself, scowling. "I know what she's told you. So what?" he demanded, even though he knew he was just being awkward...they all knew what this was about, all too well.

"Draco! The headmaster wants to help you, don't be childish..." Severus warned, but his tone was soft, and he wasn't angry. Draco could see that from the expression on his face. But even after all these years, he found something in those hollow black eyes he had never seen before. Guilt. 'He thinks all this is his fault.' Draco thought incredulously, shrinking away again from the intent observation and falling silent with surprise. "It isn't your fault, Severus. If I can't defend myself I'm good for nothing anyway, if this is anyone's fault then it's mine." He conceded bitterly, and at this Dumbledore frowned, shaking his head. "Draco, we know what went on at home over the summer. Don't forget, your godfather and I have known Lu- have known your father for a long time. If anyone should have seen this, it is me. And for that, I apologise profusely, I misjudged it more than even I know..." he added gravely, nodding and taking off his glasses, massaging his temple with two fingers.

Draco blamed himself. One had to know what had gone on over that last summer to understand how he had come to that conclusion, but he was resigned to the fact that he was a failure. A shame to his family and to his father, and weak to not have been able to turn every blow. Severus blamed himself. He had been distant over the holidays, and when he called Draco had seemed wary and fractious, never still, but he had never presumed anything of it, which he regretted more than anything now. He had failed Draco as a godfather, and the headmaster who had advised him to be careful of Draco that summer.

And Dumbledore, for his part, blamed himself. He had known since third year that Lucius and Narcissa were distant, fairly cold as parents. Seen it in Draco every day. Yet he had presumed that Draco could handle it...he had handled it, stayed silent and returned to school in one piece. Bruises and burns, suspicious cuts along his body, always where they couldn't be seen...but he had misjudged Lucius, certainly. "No-one's blaming you, Draco. You are the victim here, and if we ought to blame anyone it is most certainly Lucius." Snape added vehemently, and his tone suggested that he could think of several most fitting ways of 'blaming' Lucius. Draco looked up as he spoke, but was too ashamed to meet his eyes, and spoke instead to his collar. "It's nothing I can't handle, I don't see why you're being so dramatic...if I haven't the strength or skill to defend myself then-," "Draco! Don't ever let me hear you say that again!" Severus snapped suddenly, turning his godson's face briskly to face his. "Stop it. How your father treats you is his own fault, none of yours, you should never have to defend yourself, not at sixteen. Least of all against your own parents." He concluded, darkly, and Dumbledore cautioned him with his eyes, watching Draco shrink from the touch. "Draco, I can't allow you to return home. I would like you to arrange to either stay at school this Christmas, visit a friend, or I daresay Severus will be more than happy to have you stay." Dumbledore added, and his eyes twinkled slightly, as Snape nodded vehemently, releasing Draco's chin from his gentle grasp.

"I don't need to be protected, whatever you may think. If you know what happened, you also know that I did pretty well by myself...what do you intend to do, anyway? Keep me away from home forever?" Draco queried cynically, arching a brow to Dumbledore, who smiled. That was more like Draco, it was oddly reassuring. He wasn't comfortable being touched yet, warier than he remembered the boy, but hadn't taken it badly. Considering, anyway...

"One step at a time, Draco. You're here, so that you know that we know. We, and by that I mean your godfather especially, are very concerned about your well-being. I shall speak to Lucius, I see him not uncommonly whilst in London, and in the meantime you are our priority. I'm sorry to spring all this on you, but we felt you ought to hear this." He added softly, and after a moment Draco nodded. "Thank you, Professor. I know you mean well, and you, Severus. I know. But I honestly can handle it. I'll stay with Rosier, if you prefer, he invited me months ago anyway, so if that will please you I'll accept. In return, I would request a favour: Don't tell him. My father. Don't tell him you know, at least not yet. I think it's my decision." He murmured, and though his voice was cautious it was as stubborn as it was soft, and Dumbledore smiled, not objecting as Draco stood. "Very well, Draco. For now, at least, until we discuss this again, I will honour that. You understand, though, that this can't go on?" he replied levelly, and gently pushed open the door for him, smiling as Draco nodded. "Yes, Professor Dumbledore. And...thank you." Draco added meekly in reply, and he nodded gratefully before ducking out of the office. Severus didn't follow, and he heard their voices rise the second he walked away, smiling darkly to himself. They would be discussing him, he knew...well, he hoped they were having fun filling in the details of exactly how the summer had been. He wished them luck.



Throughout dinner Hermione made Harry recap the rules of Animagi quietly to her. Which he did, albeit somewhat distractedly. In reality he was staring at Draco, frown lines marring his normally smooth, scarred forehead. From what Harry could see Draco was pushing his food round his plate, not really eating very much, although he did look like he was in a good mood. Once Harry had noticed this he realised what had been bugging him since Friday night. He hadn't seen Draco at any meals. He hadn't been at breakfast for that past two mornings, nor at lunch. And he hadn't been at dinner the night before either. "Or Friday night." Harry added to himself remembering Draco had been asleep in the library. Harry's frown deepened. For some reason the thought of Draco not eating bothered Harry although he couldn't pinpoint why.

As Harry shook his head to clear away his thoughts he watched Draco suddenly completely push his food away, staring up at the High Table. Instinctively Harry followed Draco's gaze and was surprised to see both Snape and Dumbledore leave the Great Hall, Draco following closely behind. Once again Harry's frown deepened as he wondered what Draco had done, or what was up with him. Hermione, being as observant as ever, also noticed Draco leave the Great Hall out of the corner of her eye and looked up in time to see three worried faces. Snape's, Draco's and Harry's, Dumbledore had already left so she couldn't see his, but she had a sneaking suspicion that it also had been worried. She pondered this for a moment as she watched Ron stuff his face, completely oblivious to the fact that Harry was staring after Draco, and that Draco had left.

As conversation continued along the Gryffindor table, Harry's thoughts went haywire over a certain blonde Slytherin, who was supposedly his enemy. "No, is my enemy." Harry corrected himself stubbornly, although not out loud. Harry berated himself for his thoughts but couldn't stop them. "Malfoy looked so happy when he entered the hall...but as soon as he looked at Snape his good mood seemed...to evaporate." Harry mused inwardly. "Why, for Merlin's sake, is this bothering me so much?! What do I care if Malfoy's happy or not?!" Harry had no answer but decided that meant that he didn't. "Exactly! I don't!" If Hermione could have heard him she would have snorted at him and told him he was being blind.

Although what he was being blind about Harry wasn't entirely sure.

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