A/N; first of all, I would like to state I have little to no idea where this is going, and it is currently a case of letting the story flow. shrug I'm hoping I just don't get a sudden case of writers block .

Summary; Draco, Harry, Ron and Hermione each suffer through terrible summers, and upon arriving back at school deem it fit to put in place firm masks. However, when the Slytherin calls truce with Harry, little by little their masks all begin to crumble…

Warnings; abuse, mentions of (but not really graphic descriptions of) rape, slash H/D, don't like don't read

Disclaimer; Please trust me on this one, if I owned Harry Potter I would not be here writing this

This story disregards HBP! (I hate it, I hate it, I hate it!) But it is set in their 7th year…

Draco apparated to the usual location in one area of the manor grounds, not even looking around to see if anything had changed since the last year. Nothing ever changed. This was a Malfoy house.

His friends had been rather surprised to say the least when they found out Draco could already apparate at his age. Draco had laughed at the fact they couldn't, and sneered some high and mighty reply. He was a Malfoy. Malfoys' didn't have age restrictions, and his father had insisted he learnt how to apparate before he could barely walk in a straight line. It was a necessity.

He left his trunk where it was, assuming one of the many house elves would collect it. He just hoped they would hurry, he didn't really feel like walking into a room lacking…the lived in look.

The thing was, Draco noted as he walked across the vast grounds towards the manor, his entire house lacked the 'lived in look'. His parents were clean freaks, and Draco had fallen into the habit of keeping his room just as neat out of fear of a beating. The effect this had was that Draco almost craved a more relaxed life-style, but could never really fall into one even at school. He frowned slightly as he thought about that, then shook his head slightly. What did it matter anyway?

Draco let himself into the house easily, slipping in almost un-noticed. His mother was waiting in the entrance hall, her hands clasped together in front of her and her back stiff and straight. She let a trace of happy emotion flicker over her face, before it returned to her usual stony mask. Draco wasn't sure if he cared any more.

'Hello dear,' his mother embraced him shortly, barely giving him time to wrap his arms around her before pulling away.

'Hello,' Draco replied, not bothering to hide his annoyance that his mother couldn't even care enough to welcome him home properly. Then he frowned to himself. His father had done something to her again, he could see the bruise on her shoulder were her robe slipped a little.

'Sorry your father couldn't meet you, he had an important meeting to go to…'

'Yeah, yeah, I know. He ran off to throw himself at the feet of a hooded man and kiss his robes just to be sent to kill a bunch of muggles. Joy to the-…' Draco inserted a rather rude word in the end of his sentence, smiling slightly when his mother bit her lip to stop a laugh.

'Draco!' Narcissa snapped, finding it hard to even look angry at her son 'You shouldn't say such things about your father,'

Draco gave a short nod, before letting her lead him into the kitchen, making light conversation about school. Draco decided to make the most of her eagerness to talk; he knew that as soon as Lucius returned from his 'meeting' his mother would retract into a deep and well built shell, covered in green and black paint.

As soon as he was let into the house, Harry grabbed his trunk and heaved it up the stairs, hiding in his room. He looked around, making sure they hadn't put up any traps, before grabbing the most important things out of his trunk and slipping them under his bed in case his uncle decided to hide it in the cupboard or lock it somewhere…out of his reach.

Among these things was his wand, which he tucked safely into his back pocket, covering the bit that poked out with his baggy t-shirt. True, he had been previously warned to not do this, and to not even carry his wand around muggles but…somehow Harry never felt safe without it. It was just one of those things. Besides, if he waited just a week or two he would be officially allowed to use it and, to put it bluntly, his threats would easily be made reality. Harry couldn't wait.

He quickly let Hedwig out of her cage, then opened the window to let her out. Hearing his uncle yell from some where downstairs, Harry flopped down onto his bed. He could have become slightly deaf over the school year, right?

He heard angry footsteps thudding up the stairs, and glared at the door, hoping that somehow it would understand his message to not let his Vernon in, unless it wanted to awake in the morning to find itself in a skip. Harry had noticed that doors just seemed to float in skips. Put an empty skip on a street, and within a week there would be at least one door and a couch or bits of cardboard that didn't belong to the owner of the large container.

The door would have shivered at the look, had it not been held firmly in place by a few pieces of metal that the door now decided it would blame should anything happen to it. The little metal screws did tremble, though it was masked by the tremble everything found itself under when Vernon pounded upon the door. The screws breathed a sigh of relief that no one saw their fear.

Vernon tried to open the door again, twisting the door knob in every possible direction. He couldn't get his small brain around the fact that it wouldn't open. He vaguely wondered why before pounding his fist into the wood again, missing the door's moan of pain.

Harry smirked, seating himself on top of the heavy trunk now positioned in front of the door. He vaguely wondered how long it would hold before leaning his head onto the wood of the door, only to find his head shaking when Vernon's fist came into contact with the wood occupying the space between him and his punching bag.

Ron frowned as Ginny dashed past him, pushing eagerly to the front to get the first hug from their father. He rolled his eyes at her behaviour, vaguely wondering if she was upset even in the slightest about her and Harry's break up some time in the middle of the year. His thoughts were removed when Molly told the only two Weasley children left at home that they weren't going to be doing much for the first few weeks, and that both adults would be making frequent trips to visit the Order.

Ron had asked when he could see his brothers. His mother had pursed her lips before smiling sweetly, changing the subject. Now he was vaguely wondering if they had even stayed in contact over the year. His thoughts changed again when he asked when Hermione and Harry could come around. Ginny had gone all quiet, but stayed to listen to the answer. Mrs Weasley pursed her lips again, then smiled sweetly and quickly changed the subject.

Hermione banged her head against her desk in her room, closing her eyes and covering her ears in an attempt to block out the shouting downstairs. She sighed when it didn't work, and picked up her quill again, quickly checking she had not smudged the ink on the parchment bellow her. She smiled happily when she noted it was still perfect, before frowning again as she heard her name mentioned in the argument.

This was not unusual for her, her parents arguing that is. They had fought a lot since she returned, and she vaguely wondered if they had argued whilst she was at school. She shook her head to clear her thoughts, glancing over the open page of the book on her lap. She scribbled something else down on the parchment, before slamming the quill down in anger. Her parents were just annoying her now. They were distracting her. She hated it.

Hermione had always thought of her family as the perfect family. Two adoring parents, letting her be who she wanted to be alone, and no pestering siblings. They never fought, never agued, and rarely disagreed. She vaguely wondered what had changed before hitting the 'play' button on her personal C.D player, jamming the headphones down over her ears. She nodded in satisfaction and picked up her quill again.

Harry set the letter down on his desk, giving a short sigh. It was just Hermione informing him that there was nothing interesting happening at home, and asking him how his holiday was.

He glanced at the clock on his wall, then out the window at the dark night sky. He watched a nearby street lamp flicker, before plunging that area of the quiet street into darkness. He didn't dwell on it, his thoughts wandering to the events at the end of the last year.

Harry jumped when he heard the door slam open downstairs, then shut again sending angry vibrations into the walls. Harry slumped into his chair, knowing what it meant. Vernon was home. And he had been drinking. Harry had previously wondered when his uncle had started drinking, but had never cared why. He had his own troubles, he was sure his uncle was upset about loosing an important client or something.

Dudley and Petunia were asleep, and Harry knew what that meant. He glanced automatically at the bruises on his arm, before slamming his head down onto his desk. He was sure this night would not end well.

When his uncle stormed into Harry's room just moments later, Harry did his best to defend himself. He had yelled and threatened, then resorted to pleading. Each attempt had been in vain, and a very drunk and red-faced Vernon had gone on yelling about him being a freak or something of the like, and proceeded to beat the sixteen-year-old with everything from his fists to a nearby shoe.

At the end of it all, he had left Harry in a crumpled heap on the floor. Harry could taste the blood in his mouth, and wiped the back of his hand over his brow. He scowled in disgust at the blood on his fingers, and spat the blood out onto the floor. He would clean it later.

Stumbling to his feet and ignoring the pain coursing through his tired body, Harry sat down at his desk to write his reply to Hermione's letter, answering her question as to how he was and how his holiday was going.

I'm fine, the holiday's same old, same old.

Draco wasn't an idiot, and knew when his father was angry. All his senses always told him not to argue with his father, but he never heeded the warnings where his mother was concerned.

On this occasion, he had walked into the room to see the end of a vicious quarrel, and witnessed his father beating his mother angrily. Narcissa didn't say a word, didn't try to defend herself, let Lucius do what he wanted. She knew the consequences of defying him.

Draco knew the consequences to. He had watched the proceedings for a few moments, before scowling darkly. All thoughts of how he should behave had flown out the window, and he found himself charging at his father in a rage, stepping between him and his mother.

Lucius had stopped only briefly to register his son was defying him, before lashing out and sending the teenager across the room. Lucius whipped out his wand, and Draco could only stare into his father's cold eyes as curse after curse rained down on him, not letting himself scream. Not once did he cry out, not once did he moan or sob, and not once did he look at the weeping form of his mother in the corner letting Lucius do this to him. He told himself he didn't care, and that it didn't matter.

When he returned to his empty room later that night and found his legs gave way beneath him, Draco decided through his choked sobs that it probably did matter a very slight bit.

Hermione wasn't stupid. When her parent's arguments had not subsided within a few weeks, she knew full well it wasn't something simple. She had stopped vaguely wondering, and started thinking deeply. Divorce.

It had been on her mind for a good week or so, but she couldn't let herself believe her parents would go through with it. When she walked in on her mother one night stuffing clothes into a travel bag, she suddenly found herself believing easily that not only were her parents going to divorce, but for once there was nothing she could do about it.

And for the first time in her life, Hermione wished she had been wrong.

Ron didn't like having a big family. He detested the far too big hand-me-downs, he hated sharing a room and he hated having only a small house for them to be crowed into.

But most of all, he hated his too small and very noisy house to be empty and suddenly quiet. He hated not having anyone to moan to other than his little sister, he hated having no male siblings to fight with, and he hated not having hand-me-downs to refuse to where.

And the thing he hated most, was that he finally understood the joys of having the big family he had once despised.

Draco had taken care to stay out of his father's way on those rare occasions when he returned, but never had much luck. Somehow he nearly always ended up in bed for a day or two after he left.

He knew what was coming. Even though he was not of age, Lucius wanted Draco to join the dark lord. In his eyes, Draco had a duty to uphold the Malfoy honour, and serve the rightful leader of the magical race.

Draco had a mind of his own, his own ambitions and, surprisingly enough, a will to live. He did not like being told what he was to do, and even if he did he would not have agreed. He may have put up a typical Slytherin mask to others at the school, but he did not share their views. His mother had been sure to teach him his morals, even if in secret.

It was the same with most of his friends to. When around other students, they let set up a cold stone wall and plastered a sneer or a smirk on their faces, but behind closed doors they had emotions. They could laugh, smile, enjoy themselves and have fun without a single harsh comment. But they also knew how to cry, get upset and worry for others. They were loyal, they looked after their own and defended the weakest. It was annoying to have to pick on the ones they usually defended during school hours, but it was necessary to not arouse suspicion.

It was hard to tell which Slytherin's were like this at first. First years often found it as a shock that often the common room was much like any other's, but only after curfew. It had been a shock to find that as soon as other students couldn't see them, most Slytherin's got on with their day to day lives in peace. What a pity no other house could see it.

Of course, every house and family has a bad egg, and Slytherin had its share of them. They were the ones in large and loud gangs that enjoyed picking on others to know end even when only Slytherin's were around, and they were shunned by their house for it. Teenagers often think what they want to think, not what their parents teach them.

Draco simply refused to take on the dark mark. He would not tell his father this; fear of a worse beating stopped him from doing so. But he told his mother, who agreed whole-heartedly, and had dropped her emotional mask and hugged her son in pure delight.

After that, she had been making secret arrangements for him to leave. He wanted to help her, save her to, but she had said she was in too deep. She already had a back-up means of escape for herself –though she refused to tell her son what it was-, and Draco just hoped it was enough to save her from Lucius.

Throwing another retched lump of soil over his shoulder and wiping the back of his hand over his brow, Harry decided he was in a bad mood. Just two days till his birthday, and his relatives were increasing his work load by the day. He was currently digging up an old flower bed, and had been instructed to plant more when he had finished digging it up. He leant on his shovel, cursing the hot mid-day sun for being 'too damn hot'.

He noticed Petunia peering at him threw the kitchen window, and threw her a smile, waving cheerily. Petunia frowned and scurried off to find her husband, most likely to complain Harry was not busy enough.

When Harry returned into the house a lot later that night, Vernon was waiting. The sun had gone down hours ago, and the stench of alcohol filled the air. He could only guess what was waiting for him.

'And just what do you think you're doing in here?' His uncle asked, slurring his words slightly.

'I've finished,' Harry said, crossing his arms. He then bit his lip, deciding to be daring and face the punishment 'Unless you can think of another pointless job you're to lazy to do.'

Harry smirked slightly as the colour of Vernon's face changed rapidly, going through all the dark colours and ending on purple with a tint of green. Harry stared into his eyes, then gulped. He had a feeling he shouldn't push his luck much more.

'IS THAT HOW YOU FEEL ABOUT US THEN, EH YOU LITTLE BRAT? WE GIVE YOU FOOD AND SHELTER IN OUR HUMBLE HOME, ASKING FOR NOTHING IN RETURN WHEN YOU SHOULD BE OUT ON THE STREETS, AND THAT'S ALL YOU HAVE TO SAY?'

Nothing in return? Harry thought over the words in his mind. No, he was quite sure that wasn't true. Almost positive. In fact, definite.

He felt the pain shooting down his arm and his uncle gripped him tightly, dragging him through the kitchen and slamming him into a wall.

Vernon filled the time shouting a string of curse words, yelling about how worthless Harry was and how ungrateful he was for all the effort he and his wife put into keeping the house running. Harry didn't even feel the first punch when it came, but he heard the loud slap of Vernon's fist colliding with his cheek.

When Vernon proceeding to keep throwing punches and then force him down onto the floor, Harry was pretty sure he couldn't wait for his birthday to come. When his uncle pulled down both their trousers and turned the teenager onto his front, Harry became positive. And then he felt the pain, Vernon yelling at him all the way through and hitting him repeatedly in the back whilst riding his own wave of pleasure, and Harry bit his lip in agony, causing it to bleed.

At the end of it, Harry had just enough strength left to throw a punch at the man who had taken away his virginity, and watch as the man stumbled backwards into a table, yelling out in pain.

Then Harry blacked out.

Hermione had begun to wonder how her friends were doing. She had gotten almost identical reply letters to the two she sent out to the boys, both telling her they were fine and that their holiday was each 'same old, same old,'. Hermione often wondered whether it was okay for her to notice so much, much she did notice things all the same.

On this occasion, Hermione noted how strange it seemed that neither had complained about anything. Harry had sent no news of his scar, and Ron had not said a single bad word against a sibling. Hermione was worried.

She had feared for some time now that something was going on in their lives, but she was currently too trapped up in her own to dwell on the fact. Now she needed a distraction from her life, and liked nothing more than to curl up in bed and dwell on how her friends' lives were.

She imagined Ron would be relatively happily, getting mostly what he wanted and enjoying a quidditch game with his brothers. She imagined Harry would be working for his relatives, but would relax at the end of the day with his nose in a quidditch book, not having to worry about what was going on around him.

Hermione was lucky if she could sleep before two with all the shouting.

Ron was not happy. He had been left alone again to care for Ginny, and was beginning to think his parents simply didn't care about him any more. They were rarely home, and Ron was left to look after the house and cook for his sister. Ginny rarely helped out, often visiting friends from school. Ron often scowled in jealousy.

Looking into his father's eyes and spotting the raging fire there, Draco instantly knew he had made a mistake. Well, to put it correctly, he now understood how big a mistake he had made. But in his mind, he was glad to have done so. Using a lot of curse words his mother was sure he shouldn't know, Draco Malfoy had just told his father that not only did he not want to become a death eater, but that Lucius and his mates could fuck off out of his life.

Seeing as Lucius stood in front of him now with all his fellow death eater mates behind him wearing shocked looks, Draco gathered it was probably a bad thing to say.

He felt in his pocket for his wand, wondering why he had not previously drawn it. As pulled it out, the twenty or so death eaters mimicked his actions. Lucius laughed. It was a deep, harsh laugh, almost telling Draco that if it wasn't a joke he would be severely punished.

Lucius turned to the death eaters 'Ah, teenage humour these days! My son is such a joker!' The death eaters took his lead and began to laugh as well. Draco scowled at them, and recognizing the trade-mark Malfoy glare they stopped at once.

'I am not joking, Lucius,'

'I am your father, Draco, and you have no say in this matter!' Lucius snapped, raising his own wand 'You will join the dark lord, and you will serve him with your life!'

Draco shook his head defiantly.

'I should hope I will loose it before joining him!'

The anger came in waves from the death eaters, and Draco found it hard to stand his ground. Checking in his pocket once more that his trunk was safely there in a miniaturized form, Draco smirked.

This earned him a punch in the gut from his father. A string of curses landed upon him, and Draco recognized vaguely the call of 'crucio' before feeling his body racked with unbearable pain.

When the pain stood, Draco got timidly to his feet, and grinned.

'Goodbye, Lucius,' Draco drawled, still smiling. He reached to the ground, picking up an empty crisp packet that had lay forgotten. And then he was gone, still scarred from an only day old fight, the port-key taking him far away from his now enraged 'father'.

When Draco arrived at his destination, he stumbled to the floor on his sprained ankle. That was days old, but it still hurt. He wiped away the blood that was now spilling from one of his cuts, and quickly tucked away his wand.

The blonde pulled himself to his feet, looking around. Instantly recognizing Hogwarts castle in front of him, he gave a grim smile and nodded. Yes, how typical of his mother to send him here. He gave a small shrug, checking in his pocket that his miniaturized trunk was still there, then set off in the direction of his home away from home.

A/N; so, here it is, the first chapter! So you know, you have a choice; long chapters (9/10 pages) once every two weeks or shorter chapters (6/7) pages every week. Your choice! Reviews are appreciated! 