Moonlight-blossom: Wow. Hey. Omg. I GOT 90 REVIEWS! YEAH!!!! Anyways, how's it going? I'm really sorry I haven't updated in...how long? Nevermind. Sorry for making you wait (not that you had much of a choice). I'll try to update more often, at least once a week I promise.

Disclaimer: see chapter 1 (I don't have time for this)

Synopsis: Takes place right after Order of the Phoenix: Harry Potter had not had an easy school year and things were going to get even worse at Number Four Privet Drive.

Just to recap: Drake leant in, his face hovering a few inches above Harry's face. With gentle fingers, he tried to pull the glass out. Harry groaned in pain, and in surprise Drake jerked his hand up and the glass came free, along with a spurt of blood. He took the cloth and wiped away the rest of the blood.

He stood to let Harry rest but the sudden pain had torn him out of his sleep and he caught Drake's wrist in a grip which was surprisingly strong in his weakened state.

"I know who you are."

On with the story!

Summer Heat: Chapter 8

'No way. No bloody fucking way in hell.'

Drake was frozen to the spot, staring in disbelief at the body lying before him. Even now, as weak as he was, Potter managed to direct a fiery glare at the boy directly above him.

"I know who you are," Harry repeated determinedly in his feeble, raspy voice.

Drake's mind was numbed and the phrase "I know who you are" kept replaying in his head like a broken record. It was a full minute before it registered that Harry had spoken the words aloud.

"I-I don't know what you're talking about," Drake finally spat out.

"Bullshit. I know who you are. Draco."

Drake broke out in a cold sweat, he shook all over. He had lost control, there was no way he was getting out of this one.

Suddenly he lurched forward. 'Dammit!' Drake had forgotten that Potter still held on to his wrist. With a sudden jerk, he had fallen over onto Potter's chest.

Harry's breathing was labored and his usually bright emerald eyes were clouded over.

'He's delirious.' Drake realized. He suddenly froze, a hand had come to rest at the nape of his neck...and it was pulling him closer...

Mere second later, he was looking straight into the cloudy eyes of the boy beneath him. Harry brought them closer, until their foreheads almost touched.

"You can run, but you can't hide from me Draco," Harry said softly. Then, without warning his eyes rolled to the back of his head and he fell back onto his pillow with a soft thud.

Only when Drake was absolutely positive that Potter was asleep, did he once again breath freely. 'That was close. Way too close.'

Drake still trembled slightly, but he stubbornly dismissed it. He had to get out of here. Now. He reached for the doorknob and stepped out. Glancing back, Drake felt a rare tug of pity, but he firmly shut the door behind him as he left.

Drake tramped down the stairs, and to his horror realized that the living room was a disaster. Broken glass and spots of blood littered the carpet.

Drake swore under his breath, cursing everyone from that damned Dumbledore to the Dark Lord himself. All of a sudden, he felt completely exhausted. He was physically, mentally, and emotionally worn out. The day wasn't even have over but it didn't matter. Drake had given up, he was fighting a losing battle. It was over.

He sank into the squashy chair in the corner of the room and almost immediately, fell asleep.

About an hour later, Drake was rudely awakened and confronted with a livid Harry Potter. After waking up, Harry had dragged himself down the stairs to try and figure out how he had gotten out of the cupboard and into his room. Everything in his mind was muddled and confused, and he remembered nothing about his accusations or Drake.

He came to the living room and saw a smashed coffee table and the carpet was sprinkled in blood. It looked like the house had been ransacked. In the corner chair, there was a huddled figure. It appeared to be asleep.

Harry stormed up to the chair and roughly shook the sleeping youth. Tired eyes met his own, the young man seemed completely and totally drained. For some reason, Harry felt no compassion, no pity for the boy.

"Who the hell are you?" he demanded angrily.

Vacant eyes stared back, "You don't remember?" he asked.

"Don't remember? Don't remember what?" shouted Harry.

Drake sighed, "You hungry? It doesn't look like you've eaten in a while."

This rendered Harry completely speechless. A complete stranger waltzes in, gives no explanation and when Harry questions him, simply asks a if he's hungry or not! Harry spluttered incomprehensively, at a loss for words.

Even though Drake was still feeling utterly defeated, Potter's current state still brought a half-amused smirk to his face. This, however, seemed to fuel Harry's anger even further. His fists clenched at his side and his eyes flashed dangerously.

Harry's eyes narrowed into two angry slits. They reminded Drake horribly of a snake about to strike. This only served as a reminder to the gravity of the current situation he was in. Drake knew what was at stake if Harry were to suddenly remember or realize who he was. It would be incredibly difficult, but Drake would have to pretend he knew nothing for a little while longer.

Harry opened his mouth to retort, but was interrupted by a tap, tap coming from the window. Perched in by the windowsill in the living room was a tawny brown barn owl. It was hopping impatiently from foot to foot, waiting for Harry to relieve it of its message.

Harry was momentarily stunned, it had been ages since he had received a letter from anyone at all. Granted, this was the first time he had been out of the cupboard this summer and if Vernon happened to come across any letters from his friends would have burned them, Harry was still bewildered at the prospect of receiving a letter, from anyone.

In several long strides, Harry was across the room and at the window. He carefully untied the note from the owl's leg. Harry stroked its head several times and with a hoot, the owl took off into the sky.

From the corner of the room, Drake watched Harry's expression change drastically from completely furious a few seconds ago to pure shock and almost horror.

Harry's hands trembled as he read the one sentence on the parchment. In Ron's very familiar scrawl were the words:

Hey mate,

Pack your bags, we're coming to get you.

TBC

Moonlight-blossom: Okay I know it wasn't that great or anything but I'm a little rusty. It's been a while since I've written. I'll try to get the next chapter up in a week or so. Thanks for the reviews and everything guys! You rock!