It's raining in your room.
Angel tears, bask sweet.

THE NEXT DAY, August 15th 4PM

Draco's flat was a mess. Severus sat at the kitchen table pouring over a few books on potions with school paperwork scattered around him while Draco sat with me in the living room engrossed in his own preparations for the next school year. I was seated on the floor with my back to the couch, books on Harry Potter all around me. Most of the books were half open and marked in certain spots as I switched from one to the other in attempt to get an overall impression of the history of Harry Potter.

"I don't know if this means anything," I mumbled nonchalantly to the others in the room as I flipped through Harry Potter, A Photographic Account of the Boy Who Lived, "but I've noticed that Harry Potter had a lightning bolt shaped scar on his forehead..."

"Yes," Draco answered back without looking up from his work, "He received it when the Dark Lord cast the killing curse on him when he was one year old. Do you have a question about it?"

"Not really," I replied, "but my Father had a scar just like it on his forehead." The room became silent as the sounds of quills on parchment and rustling papers stopped completely. I glanced up to notice both Draco and Severus staring at me.

"It can't be," Severus said as he walked across the room toward me, "Do you have a picture of him?" I nodded my head and reached into my backpack to pull out a small photo album. It held only three photographs, one of my Mother, one of my Father and one of my Father holding me when I was around four years old. For some reason my Father had never enjoyed having his picture taken.

I flipped the book open to the picture of my Father. He was quite young in the picture, only around twenty-five or so but he appeared much older. By the time he was twenty his hair had started to gray and the skin at the corners of his eyes had begun to wrinkle. I held the book out to Severus as Draco came to stand next to him. His hands shook as he reached out to grab the album and it was odd to see him so anxious when he usually seemed to have so much control over himself.

Severus passed the book to Draco and then walked off into the kitchen in a daze. Draco just stared down at the book, his face pale and his hands shaking much like Severus had been a moment ago. Severus came back with a bottle of dark brown liquid and promptly poured a glass for each of us. No words were spoken as he handed a glass to Draco, who downed it immediately, still not taking his eyes off the photo.

"What is it?" I asked as I eyed the glass Severus gave me suspiciously.

"Firewhiskey," he replied and then proceeded to down the glass just as quickly as Draco had.

"It can't be," Draco stammered as he fell back into one of the armchairs, "There's no way." No one said anything and Severus proceeded to refill both of their glasses. I sipped my drink slowly and coughed a bit as it burned down my throat. It was stronger than regular whiskey. I usually didn't drink, but decided that after the time I'd been having, I definitely deserved a stiff drink.

"Harry Potter is my Father isn't he?" I asked cautiously. Severus took a seat in the other armchair and downed another glass of firewhiskey.

"It would seem so," his voice shook as he answered, "but I don't understand how. You said your Father had passed away and I know for a fact that Harry Potter cannot die." Draco had finally put the photo album down and he too downed his second glass of firewhiskey immediately.

"You haven't quite explained that to me," I said. It was more of a question then a statement.

"No, I suppose we haven't," Severus replied, "It's not a very nice story and you definitely won't find it in any of those books."

"Will you tell me?" I asked hopefully. Severus and Draco shared a look and then Severus nodded curtly before continuing.

"I suppose I should since you definitely have some kind of connection to him. Harry Potter did not lead a very normal life," Draco snorted at this and Severus glared at him, "Okay, his life was hell. I think you've probably gotten the gist of how his life was from the books but it was much darker then any of those books portray." His voice became low and I scooted over the carpet to get close to him in order to hear him better.

"Many of the books skip Potter's life from the end of his fifth year to the time when he defeated the Dark Lord," he said and then poured himself another glass of whiskey.

"I noticed that," I said, "it is a bit odd."

"It was cover-up," Draco interjected, "A complete and total cover-up."

"Draco..." Severus warned, but Draco just glared at him and continued.

"It's true Severus and you know it," Draco replied angrily as he got up and began pacing back and forth across the room, "they used him and then spit him out and then they tried to pretend like none of it ever happened."

"What never happened?" I asked as I urged him on. Severus eyed him warily but kept his mouth shut as Draco continued ranting.

"You've read about Harry's childhood and his first five years of school. The books are fairly accurate but they gloss over a lot of it. Let's start with Harry's so called family, The Dursleys," he sneered their name like it was the foulest thing known to man, "The books portray them as confused muggles who just didn't understand magic. The books portray Harry's life with them as difficult but just a small adversity in Harry's life, nothing to be worried about." I nodded in agreement. It was true, most of the books that said anything about his childhood had only mentioned that he grew up having to do a lot of housework and put up with a family that just didn't understand magic.

"Wrong!" Draco yelled fiercely, Severus and I flinched in return, "His family put him through hell. He spent his first ten years in a cupboard under the stairs then they locked him in that hell hole of a bedroom which I believe you saw with your own eyes," I nodded again, "Then you saw the boards over his windows, the locks on the door and the cat flap that they fed him through."

"They fed him through a cat flap?" I asked in surprise. I had noticed the flap but didn't really take note of it. I thought that Harry must have just had a dog or a cat.

"Yes," Draco replied as he plopped down in the armchair once more, "And they abused him every year. Every year he was sent back to that place, the fucking savior of the wizarding world was sent back to his muggle relatives to be beaten and starved."

"Draco," Severus said with a stern glare, "No one knows if Potter was truly abused." Draco picked up his glass of whiskey and threw it across the room into the fireplace.

"Damn it Severus! Were you so blind that you couldn't see what was happening to him? I can't believe after all these years that you of all people still don't accept what happened to him. You can't even accept what we did to him, can you?" Severus stared at his own glass of whiskey and ran his finger across the top of the glass.

"I don't remember doing anything to him," Severus began, "In fact, I remember saving his life countless times." Draco just stared at Severus with an incredulous look on his face. I decided to interrupt before a real argument broke out.

"Please continue with the story," I said and gave each of them a hopeful look. Draco gave a frustrated sigh and headed to the bathroom.

"Well," Severus began once again, "in Potter's first year he stopped Quirrel from getting the Sorcerer's Stone, in his second year he saved Ginny Weasley from the Basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets, in his third year he rescued his Godfather from the Dementers, in his fourth year he escaped the Dark Lord after the Dark Lord's rebirth and then in his fifth year he escaped the Dark Lord at the Department of Mysteries."

"Yes," I said, trying not to sound frustrated, "I read all about those things in the books. It must have been hard on him when he lost his Godfather." I knew that was an understatement. After reading parts of Remus Lupin's book I knew that the death of Harry's Godfather had damn near killed the boy.

"Yes, Black's death was very hard on him," Severus continued and I barely noticed when Draco returned from the bathroom and sat back down in the armchair next to Severus, "That summer he began intense training in defensive and offensive magic. He trained very hard, Black's death was truly an incentive for him to work harder then seemed humanely possible." Draco gave an evil laugh and broke back into the conversation.

"An incentive, an incentive," he sneered, "is that what someone calls it when they guilt someone into doing something, incentive?"

"Draco..." Severus warned once again.

"That's it," Draco fumed, "I'm taking over from here, you are obviously not able to be honest with yourself about what really happened." Severus glared at Draco for a moment but then turned away to stare into the fireplace.

"So what really happened?" I asked, frustrated once again with the constant interruptions. Draco stood and began to pace once again.

"By the end of Harry's fifth year he was broken, utterly and completely broken. Hell, I was his worst enemy at school and even I could see what happened to him. Actually, I could probably see better than anyone what had happened to him. About a week into the summer they took him from the Dursleys," again the name was sneered with disdain, "and brought him to Grimmauld Place."

"They brought him back to his Godfather's house," I exclaimed in surprise, thinking back to Remus Lupin's book once again.

"Yes," Draco answered grimly, "he was already blaming himself and full of guilt and they brought him to the once place that would break him completely and the explanation for it was the same as the one given for sending him to the Dursleys, protection." Draco laughed darkly at this and then continued.

"What is protection exactly? That's the real question," he said thoughtfully as he stopped pacing and stared into the fire, "Is protection keeping someone safe or it teaching them how to destroy whatever is out to get them? I was brought to Grimmauld Place for protection after I told my Father that I wouldn't take the Dark Mark. Molly Weasley adopted me and I was very thankful for it. She protected me, she kept me safe." His voice trailed off for a moment until Severus coughed and brought him out of his thoughts.

"Yes, well," he stammered as he began to pace again, "I'm getting off topic slightly. Where was I? O, yes, now I remember. Molly wanted to adopt Harry too but Dumbledore wouldn't allow it and everyone knew why. Harry had to fight and having a real family would just be a distraction. Plus there was no way that Molly would've let them do half the things to Harry that they did."

"What did they do to him?" I asked, somewhat fearful of what answer I would get.

"I'm not sure about all of it because myself and the Weasley's were shipped off to another safe house halfway through the summer. I knew he was getting special training but no one knew for sure because he became completely cutoff from everyone, they wouldn't even let him send letters," he said as a pained expression crossed his face, "Molly had been fairly upset but Dumbledore had convinced her it was for the best. Ron became withdrawn for awhile but soon he and Hermione were dating and it became easy to forget about Harry. It became easy to just trust that the adults knew what was best."

"I could never forgive Granger and the Weasel for that," Draco added to my surprise, "Harry and I may have been enemies but if there's one thing that you learn in Slytherin it's loyalty to your friends and housemates." He sighed and then slumped down in the armchair once again.

"If you want to know what happened to Harry that summer, then you'll need to hear it from Severus since I wasn't there," he motioned to Severus and then poured himself another drink. By the time Draco had finished with his part of the story Severus had already had four or five glasses of firewhiskey and he seemed a bit more inclined to look at the past objectively.

"I hate thinking about that time," Severus said as he stared into the fire thoughtfully, "I've never felt so dirty. When I was truly in the Dark Lord's service it was my decision and when I became a spy it was my decision, no one manipulated me into becoming what I was. Potter was different though. Dumbledore pulled his strings like a bloody marionette. Everyday working with Potter made me feel like I was taking part in some sort of twisted potions experiment. It was all about adding the right ingredients at the right time."

"I'd mention the death of his Godfather, Dumbledore would remind him of the danger to his friends, we'd say jump and he'd say how high. He was trained like a dog was trained, it was all about repetition. There was a difference though, when a dog does something right he is rewarded, when Potter did something right," Severus paused for a moment before staring up at the ceiling, "he wasn't punished."

"My God..."I whispered to no one as a wave of nausea hit me.

Dad and I were polishing the silver. It wasn't hard work but it was completely mind-numbing, especially for a fifteen year old who could think of much better ways to spend time.

"Dad, this is so boring, it's just the same thing over and over," I whined. Dad's face went blank for a moment and he stared off into space.

"Hell isn't about pain," he said quietly, "it's about repetition."

"Dad," I asked in confusion, "Are you okay?" He looked down at me with a sad smile.

"Sure honey, I'm fine."

"Jenny," I could hear Draco's name calling out to me, "Are you okay?" I snapped back into the moment and shook my head slightly.

"Yes," I answered, "I was just lost in my thoughts."

"May I ask what you were thinking about?" Draco asked, his voice almost dripping in concern. I glanced around the room for a moment and noticed that Severus had left.

"Where'd Sev go?" I asked, now I was the one concerned. Draco just chuckled.

"He drank a little too much and had to make an emergency trip to the loo," he replied with a grin. I couldn't help but laugh at this also and the mood in the room seemed to lift slightly.

"Laughing at my misfortune I see," a voice drawled from somewhere behind us. Draco and I turned to look at Severus.

"Well you look much better," Draco observed.

"Potions can do wonders," Severus said haughtily as he sat down in the armchair next to the fire once again. Draco turned back towards me and stared at me for a moment.

"What?" I asked in confusion, "Something on my face?" Draco just shook his head.

"You never told me what you were thinking about." The smile I had a moment ago faded and I could feel the hairs on the back of my neck standing up straight.

"It was just something my Father said once," I replied, not sure if I really wanted to explain any further.

"Well?" Severus asked in frustration.

"Well What?" I asked in return.

"What did he say?" Severus asked, his face now slightly flushed.

"Boy, you get angry fast don't you," I observed. Draco laughed as Severus threw up his hands in disdain.

"Just answer the question brat."

"Fine," I replied as Draco and Severus leaned ever so slightly toward me.

"When I was growing up my Father and I used to polish the silver together," I began, "I loved it when I was younger because I loved spending time with my Father, but as I grew up I began to hate those hours we would spend polishing. It was the most boring work and it took no thought whatsoever. I voiced my thoughts to my Dad and he gave me an odd reply. I didn't really think too much about it at the time because my Father was always coming up with strange little sayings. The only reason I remembered it now is because of what we were just talking about."

"Which was?" Draco asked as he scooted to the edge of his seat.

"Repetition," I stated plainly.

"And what did your Father have to say about that?" Severus drawled as if he wasn't really interested.

"Hell isn't about pain, it's about repetition," I said slowly and Severus proceeded to be sick all over Draco's living room rug.