A/N; okay, apparently it's relatively short chapters (probably either this length or a bit longer every time) once a week. Thanks bunches to my reviewers; you're input is valued, and I really don't mind if people review just to say it's okay or even that they hate it! Anyway, enough babbling, enjoy!

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

Disclaimer; I do not own Harry Potter or any of the merchandize etc etc etc, only this plot. P.S I would like to state for the record that if I did own Harry Potter I would currently be sitting somewhere on a nice, hot, sunny beach reading one of my favourite books whilst thinking up a good plot for the 7th book and re-writing the 6th book. (I hate it, I hate it, I hate it!)

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

Draco gave a short, rather annoyed sigh, stepping onto the gleaming train with his usual grace. It was ridiculous, he had claimed, going to Kings Cross station to catch the train just like every other student when he was already settled in at Hogwarts. It would surely be easier for him to just join the feast when everyone arrived. Draco snorted. No, of course not, Dumbledore had replied in that calm but annoying voice of his, that would only arouse suspicion. Draco rolled his eyes. At least if he had stayed at Hogwarts there wouldn't be the risk of being caught by Lucius. Dumbledore had told him Lucius would be a mad fool to attack him on the platform. Draco had retaliated that his father was a mad fool, attacking him on the platform was one of the less crazy things the man would indeed do.

The blonde hauled up his trunk, frowning at the unusual lightness, then set of down the train in search of a compartment. He found one empty somewhereright at theend of the train and lifted his trunk onto the rack above before seating himself by the window. Waiting in his boredom for the train to leave the station, Draco reflected on his past year at Hogwarts.

His sixth year had been rather uneventful to say the least. Sure, there had been some little death eater attacks and raids, the odd death here and there, but even Potter - the boy-who-just-wouldn't-bloody-die - didn't have anything to do. There was no attack on the Gryffindor hero or his band of followers, there was no attack on the school itself or Dumbledore and there had been no attack on the village of Hogsmede. Potter had probably been bored out of his damn skull.

Harry pushed his trolley ahead of him lightly, running a hand through his messy black hair as he walked down the length of the platform. He was grinning happily, glad with the knowledge that no matter what he would not be returning to the Dursley's. Uh uh, no way.

He hadn't been allowed to stay at the burrow; the Weasley's had apparently spent much of their holiday at Grimmauld place, and Harry was glad at not having spent the time there…even if he was a little angry he hadn't been asked to go stay there. The house, he had been informed, was his now, even if he was still letting the Order use it. Did he really need to be invited, or could he just turn up? Harry hadn't really liked the idea of just showing up unannounced, so he stayed in his tiny little room in Privit Drive.

He had heard from Hermione though that she hadn't fared any better, as she too had been stuck at her parent's house all summer. Although, she had reasoned, it wasn't that bad, they had promised to take her away for a week or two so he was sure she had had a nice holiday with her family.

Harry frowned very quickly in jealousy, then shook his head. He was being stupid, his holiday hadn't exactly been terrible. It had been better than some of his previous holidays, and his uncle had only gone 'all the way' a few times before his birthday; Harry refused to remember that those 'few times' had been over a period of two days, and also refused to remember the fact that he was currently wearing glamour to cover his bruises.

Putting up his happy mask again, Harry scanned around the platform for his two best friends, spotting the group of red-heads easily in the crowd. Not wanting to go over for fear of seeing Ginny, Harry spun around to search for his other friend instead. It wasn't that he was avoiding Ginny, really, it was just…they had had a rough relationship. Sometime during Harry's sixth year they had gotten together as a couple, and it had been good enough for a little while. However, a few weeks and a few very short snogging sessions later Ginny had accused Harry of not caring for her.

It wasn't true exactly; Harry did care for her; like a sister. And in reality, he didn't really feel comfortable snogging the girl he cared for as his sister. In the end, he had had to explain that to her; that he did have feelings for her, but it was more brotherly love than anything else. She had huffed a little and walked off muttering and cursing, then a few days later he and Ron almost walked in to her and some other guy snogging in a darkened corridor.

So, he wasn't really avoiding her, just trying to talk to her as little as possible. He shook his head slightly, then spotted Hermione's figure running towards him.

"Harry!" She cried happily, hugging him tightly when she was close enough "Oh, I've missed you, how are you, did you have a good summer, oh, have you been eating enough;you look terribly thin?"

Harry blinked rapidly a few times, then couldn't help himself and burst out laughing at her motherly nature and rolled his eyes.

"Well, I didn't quite catch all of that, but it's good to see you to,"

The pair managed to slip into a pleasant conversation easily enough, and they were soon joined by a rather bouncy Ron who hugged and kissed his girlfriend upon seeing her whilst merrily clapping Harry on the back.

The trio set off to find a compartment, the two boys congratulating Hermione when she told them she was head girl that year; though they both told her they hadn't expected anything else and said she was the best one for the position (this of course led to a lot of blushing on Hermione's behalf).

And so the three put away their trunks before heading off to a rather boring and uneventful prefects meeting (Harry had been made prefect the year before as a few other the other students hadn't returned to school that year). The head-boy was some Ravenclaw the three had never met before; Jonathon Hannigon. He seemed nice enough, managing to impress Hermione during their short introductory conversation before the meeting.

At the end of the meeting, the trio quickly left the compartment, none of them particularly wanting to hang around for too long before heading back to their own compartment. Once inside, Harry slid the door closed with an almost silent sigh of relief. He wasn't particularly eager to hang around with too many people, and was glad to be away from the crowd. Rubbing his hand absentmindedly over one of his bruises that was covered by his sleeve, he sat down across from his two friends as they began to banter away innocently about the summer.

In truth, Harry needn't worry about any of his bruises showing, he had discovered a pretty nifty glamour charm some years previously that hid the bruising well and he had luckily managed to find in time to perform before leaving Privit Drive. The rest of the summer hadn't exactly been as nice as he had thought it would have been after his seventeenth birthday; he had figured that maybe he could storm out – wand and trunk in hand – just as midnight struck and spend the rest of the summer at the Leaky Cauldron but his uncle had… interfered. On the day of his seventeenth, his uncle had gone around boasting to Petunia about how he was going to make sure to throw the teenager out and leave him for dead; but later that night seemed to have changed his mind about 'the freaky little whore' and managed to take away Harry's wand.

The teenager shuddered at the memory of the painful torment that followed that night, and squirmed a little in his seat. In the end, about a week before school started, Harry ended up nearlyripping the house apart to find his wand and then had just upped and left without warning after nearly waking the whole street with his frantic ruckus. After that, he really had spent the rest of the holiday in one of the small rooms at the Leaky Cauldron; not that he was going to tell Ron or Hermione that. He laughed at the thought of telling them anything to do with his life in Privit Drive; he would never call it home again. And one other thing was sure; never would he return, ever.

It had to be stated, it just couldn't go unsaid. Draco was bored. In fact, the word bored did not quite cover just how bored Draco was, because in truth the seventeen year old was bored shitless. Actually, not even that phrase covered it, but as he was lacking in the grammar department – translated to; he just couldn't be bothered to think - it would just have to do.

Rooting through his trunk for one of his books, – any book would do – Draco gave a frustrated sigh. He just knew something was going to happen that year, or even during that train-journey, and knowing his look it wouldn't exactly be brilliant.

Glancing down at his watch as the train set off from the station, the seventeen-year-old swore loudly and jumped to his feet, rushing down the corridor, whilst somehow managing to retain his normal grace, to reach the Prefect's meeting on time.

Standing on the platform whilst saying good-bye to his family, Ron growled softly under his breath. He hadn't been out of the Order's headquarters in a long time, and now he was only allowed to stand there and hug the same damn people he had been stuck with for most of the bloody summer.

Spotting Harry and Hermione talking a little way off spurred the slightly-more-than-usual-energetic Ron into action and after giving his parents one last hug he sped off to join them.

Hermione's parents had managed to not argue for the entire car journey as they drove to drop the teenager off at the station; only Hermione almost wished they would have an argument as the stifling silence was more than a little frustrating. But, no, her parents were still blissfully ignorant of the fact that she had even the slightest idea that they were suffering marital problems and were determined to keep it that way.

Clambering quickly out the car, Hermione silently thanked whatever God was looking out for her when her parents regretfully told her they wouldn't be coming in. The bushy haired teenager hugged each of them close, then quickly entered the station.

Draco sighed shortly as he closed the door to his compartment, thanking whichever god had finally decided to be nice to him and made sure there hadn't been any trouble in the meeting. Even better, no stupid first year had decided to take over his space, and the compartment remained peacefully empty.

He picked up the book he had flung carelessly aside in his hurry, and made himself comfortable in the corner by the window. Drawing his knees onto the seat to cross his legs, Draco was soon happily involved in the ever thickening plot of the muggle tale.

Quidditch. In the magical world of wizards and witches, the sport was one of the most popular among both youths and the elder people that combined to create the population. It was a central point in the lives of many teenagers and children, and could be used as a simple way to pass the time during sunny afternoons or lunch times at school. However, there was only so many things about quidditch one can happily sit and have an interesting conversation about.

Harry Potter liked quidditch. He liked watching quidditch, reading about quidditch, playing quidditch, discussing tactics for quidditch and generally talking about quidditch. However, afore-mentioned Harry Potter disliked having to sit and listen to his best friend try to convince his girl friend that quidditch is in actual fact both a pleasing and educational way to pass the time.

Harry Potter also disliked listening to previously mentioned girlfriend arguing with her boy friend (afore-mentioned best friend), telling him that attempting to converse with the giant squid would probably prove to be a much more practical and educational way to pass the time. It was, in short, anannoying way to pass the time.

Harry Potter soon found himself living through the two things he disliked the most in a stuffy compartment with his two best friends as they each continued to argue their separate points of view whilst paying absolutely no attention to him.

The dark haired teenager sighed, banging his head back against the seat in a pitiful and unsuccessful to rid himself of the on-coming head-ache. Giving a frustrated growl, Harry finally got up to leave.

"Hey, where're you going, mate?"

"Ah, um…just out. I'll be back in a minute or two,"

Ron didn't even acknowledge his friend's statement, already saying something else to Hermione next to him. Harry rolled his eyes, and slipped out of the compartment to find another; preferably an empty one.

Hermione rolled her eyes at Ron's claim, completely abandoning the book she had been previously trying to read.

"I've said it before, Ron, there is absolutely nothing educational about quidditch and is therefore a waste of precious time,"

"It is too! You learn all sorts of skills…Hey, where're you going, mate?"

It was then Hermione realized her other friend was currently standing by the door of the compartment, and turned to look at him curiously as well. Harry began to say something as a reply, but Ron had already thought up something most likely ridiculous and irrelevant to add, so he most likely didn't hear it.

Hermione half watched (trying to keep listening to Ron at the same time) as the dark haired boy rolled his eyes and left the compartment, shutting the door with a soft click behind him.

The teenage girl looked back over to her boyfriend, who was now using enthusiastic but complicated hand gestures to illustrate a point and tried to follow as best as she could what he was trying to explain. Pushing the thoughts of Harry out of her head – but filing it away under 'suspicious event' so she could mull it over later – Hermione concentrated fully on the red-head in front of her.

Draco smiled as he reached his favourite part of the book, knowing most of the events by heart. He had read it so many times during his childhood and early teenage years, but his father had burnt his only copy of it when he had found it during the blonde's third year. Draco had almost cried when he found out; he loved many types of literature, and the fact that his father had burnt it just because the author was muggle…it was unjustifiable. His mother had rolled her eyes, patted him on the back and sent him on his way. However, the next holiday he had returned home to be greeted by a first edition copy of the very same book. Draco had been joyous for many, many days afterwards, and had always kept the book hidden since.

He heard the door softly slide open, but was too lost in the book to bother to put on a mask; he figured it would be some first year of little importance so what did it matter if he was smiling slightly?

However, when he heard a graceful, masculine but very familiar voice fill the room, he looked up with eyes wide open in shock, instantly putting up a mask and placing a scowl firmly upon his face. However, it was too late, and the damage was done. The person stood in the doorway was now smirking in that funny little way of his that was more like a silly grin then anything else. Draco let out a small growl, mentally kicking himself for the mistake. This would not be a good journey.

Harry wandered down the train, sliding doors open at irregular intervals but never finding an empty compartment. He was soon at the end of the corridor, and slid the last door open softly, praying it would be free.

However, to his surprise, one lone person was sat inside. That, however, wasn't the fact that surprised him. What surprised him was the fact that the blonde who occupied the compartment should have been surrounded by his cronies, and the blonde should have instantly jumped up and insulted him as soon as Harry had gotten the door open. But, he didn't.

That wasn't the most surprising thing. The most surprising thing was that the boy who should have done that was doing the one thing he shouldn't have been doing. He was sat, quite peacefully, reading a book, a small smile playing on his lips and his hair gracefully falling over his eyes in the most angelic way possible. Harry gazed at the teenager for a moment or two, wondering vaguely if he was hallucinating. Then, making the best of the situation, Harry decided to take advantage of such a rare moment.

"Malfoy, are you smiling?"

A/N Ah, there it is, the second chapter! Sorry for any mistakes, this chapter hasn't of yet been beta-d. Sorry guys! Anyway, reviews are appreciated!