Disclaimer: Guess what I'm going to write. Go on guess. What's that you say? "I own nobody"? How did you know?

NB: I still couldn't decide what perspective to write this in (thanks to everyone who offered suggestions) so I think I'll vary from chapter to chapter. This chapter's a bit less domestic violence-y and not so much of a downer.

NNB: Do you promise to write the Teletubby fic, Moony?

Chapter 2: Nyctophobia.

Draco first knew that he loved Harry in seventh year, the first night of the Christmas holidays.

They were the only two students who hadn't gone home, Harry because he hadn't wanted to and Draco because he hadn't been wanted, and so didn't have to hide how they felt. Draco could still remember the feeling of exhilaration when he and Harry had first walked through the thick, white snow covering the castle grounds, hand in hand, knowing that there was nobody around to judge or condemn them. He'd felt blissfully happy, and strangely rebellious.

The knowledge of the love he'd guarded from himself surfaced gradually, starting slowly them rushing out suddenly on the night he trusted Harry with his most secluded secret, like a diver soaring through cold, deep water to finally break through to the life-giving air.

That night was probably the night Harry knew that Draco was his property; that he wouldn't leave him no matter what. This knowledge gave Harry the feeling of power and control that he'd dreamt of having. It scared him a little at first, but he got used to it. Why wouldn't he? Draco had given himself freely, hadn't he?

Draco lay on his bed, savouring the cold breeze, which escaped into the room from the open window. Harry leant on the windowsill, watching the ash fall from his lit cigarette down onto the undisturbed snow. He couldn't see it landing on the hard crust because the darkness engulfed the night air about seven feet from the ground, but it happened nonetheless. They didn't talk; didn't have to.

Finally Harry stubbed his cigarette out on the sill and turned to face Draco, a dim smiley lightly tracing his lips. "I better go now." He had leaned down to kiss Draco, but was stopped by Draco's slender finger on his lips.

"Don't go Harry. Please." Harry's eyes narrowed in worry. Draco looked scared. Harry had never seen him scared before, and it frightened him, but made him love the delicate boy even more.

"What's wrong?" Draco looked doubtful for a moment, and then looked into Harry's green eyes with his brilliantly blue ones. In the moonlight they looked almost silver.

"I'm scared of the dark. Well, not the dark. It's not knowing what might be waiting there. I know what should be there, but I don't know if there's something extra. Does that sound stupid?" Draco bit his lower lip and his brow furrowed slightly. Harry lowered himself back into bed and allowed Draco to snake his arms around him and rest his head on his chest. He kissed Draco lightly on the head.

"Of course it doesn't. Don't look so worried. I love you." Harry said he loved Draco a lot, and meant it too, but Draco had never said it back. Harry had tried to pretend that he didn't mind, but there was always an ache in the pit of his stomach when his sentiment wasn't returned. This time the ache didn't come.

"I love you too."

Harry stayed awake most of that night, caressing Draco's fine hair as he enjoyed a sleep empty of nightmares and fear. It wasn't until the early hours of the morning that he realised what the feeling boiling deep inside him was.

It was power.

Bdbdbdbdbdbd

As I bend over to pick up my trousers, the ligaments in my side protesting violently, I hear a door slam close by and straighten sharply, almost screaming in agony as I move my bruised muscles at a speed they just can't manage today.

He's home. I start to shake involuntarily because He's home! I haven't done what He ordered me to do that morning and He'll be angry. I sob emptily, my tears used up for today, my last thought circling my head. He'll be angry, He'll be angry…

Then I hear the neighbours shouting at their teenage daughter and I know that He's not home. He's still at work, and I've got a few hours left. I'm safe for now.

And yet still I don't move.