A/N: So, here's chapter two. Draco finds out who will be taking care of him, and what the rules of his new life are.
This is Harry/Draco, post-Hogwarts, though the slash content is extremely light. There are very vague suggestions of other relationships as well.
I've got this all written out, though I'm not 100 percent sure of the chapters, yet. There are 46 sections, but I may combine some of the smaller sections with the ones around them. This was originally two shorter sections, but has been combined into one.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Dedication: To Foodie, who still betas me despite my predilection for slash and also did such an amazing job betaing this chapter, and for FionaFawkes, who read and reviewed every single chapter, and gave me such excellent feedback. Also, for everyone who's read and loved my Harry/Draco. This one's for you.
Chrysalis
-----2
The next room had been set up like a small infirmary. There were four small beds, two of which had their curtains pulled closed to hide their occupants from view, and two figures watching him silently standing near a third bed. It took only a few seconds to recognize the shorter of the two. Messy black hair, heavy, black-rimmed glasses, green eyes and a jagged scar on his forehead: Harry Potter.
"Oh, no," Draco spat out. "No bloody way! I refuse." He tried to turn back into the other room to tell the man there that he'd changed his mind, but the door had closed behind him, and he was unable to open it again. "Let me out!" he shouted through the door. "I've changed my mind! Please…"
Draco growled to himself and leaned his head on the door when no one answered. If this wasn't a fate worse than Azkaban, he didn't know what was. That sanctimonious prick teaching him how to love Muggles? He wouldn't stand for it. He turned back to glower at Potter. "I've changed my mind. Call the guards; I'm going back to my cell."
The other figure, who Draco had easily recognized as Kingsley Shacklebolt, turned to Potter. "I told you, didn't I? He's not worth your time, Harry. Choose someone else if you must, but don't bother with this one. He's a lost cause." Shacklebolt had been the one to bring him and his father in, earning him almost as much loathing as he held for Potter. How was he supposed to deal with two people who hated him as much as Potter and Shacklebolt?
Draco was surprised when Potter ignored Shacklebolt, instead, he looked at Draco appraisingly for a moment before speaking. "You can't back out now, Malfoy. You signed the papers, right?" Draco nodded grudgingly. Harry shrugged. "Binding magical contract. The only way out is to fail your first test spectacularly. Right, Kingsley?" The man next to him scowled, but nodded. "See, Malfoy? You're stuck. You'll just have to put up with me."
But Draco wasn't about to just accept this. "So you can make my life hell, just like I've done to you in the past?"
Shacklebolt snarled, but instead of attacking him directly, spoke to Harry. "He's a coward and a sneak, Harry. I don't know why you're even bothering. If his family has somehow goaded you into this…"
"Kingsley, we've already gone over this. He was just a kid, all right? If I'd been allowed to hide, I probably would have jumped at the chance, too."
Shacklebolt sighed. "I just don't understand, Harry. Why him?"
"Because he deserves a second chance." Draco found himself watching his old rival, surprised. Potter was sticking up for him? Had the world just gone mad? Well, Potter might have changed from the last time Draco had seen him, but just because he said he wanted to give Draco a chance, didn't mean he didn't have other reasons up his sleeve. Draco crossed his arms in front of him and watched as the two continued to argue.
Harry had turned to Shacklebolt. "Look. If you can't understand my reasons, well—maybe you should just leave, okay? Because nothing you say is going to change my mind."
Shacklebolt scowled at Draco like this was all his fault. Draco scowled back at him, but he wasn't about to draw further fire from the man if he was angry at Potter. Let Potter deal with it. "I don't know about that, Harry…" Shacklebolt said slowly.
"Kingsley, please. I know where everyone stands on this, all right? My position's not going to change. I'll talk to you later, okay?"
Shacklebolt grimaced. "Fine. Just—watch your back, okay?" He shot one last glare in Draco's direction before turning and striding from the room.
Potter closed his eyes, and rubbed the back of his right hand unconsciously, obviously trying to calm himself a bit. Finally, he looked at Draco again. "Look, Malfoy. I realize you don't like this idea, but it's the only chance you've got. And don't think it's not causing me any grief. Not only is Kingsley opposed, but Ron's furious with me, and Hermione thinks I've lost it. I want you to know this isn't a whim. I really want to help you. It's up to you whether you take that help or not, though. You deserve a chance just like everyone else."
Draco couldn't believe it. Potter thought he was 'saving' him? He didn't know whether to laugh in his face or snort in disgust. The prat was so far gone now that the Dark Lord was vanquished, he felt he had to move on to his followers? It was ludicrous.
Potter didn't see or pretended not to notice Draco's less than warm reaction to what he was saying, and continued. "When I heard about this program, I realized it was my chance to do something positive after the war, and so I asked if I could help. After leaving the Auror program, it's not like I've had anything else to do." He laughed sourly. "The people running the program were thrilled to have me. Well, not me, but 'The Chosen One.' They even asked me to be part of their test program, though even they were a bit horrified when I asked specifically for you."
"What a lovely fairy-tale, Potter. Too bad I don't want your 'guidance.'" Draco growled. "Perhaps you've forgotten, but we weren't exactly friends in school, and I certainly don't intend to change that fact now. Your reasons for choosing me don't make a bit of difference," he hissed.
Potter looked at him, and Draco could see the temper simmering just beneath the surface before he managed to rein it in. "I know you don't like me, Malfoy, but I thought that maybe you'd be able to see past that by now. I thought you'd like the chance of a clean start. Maybe I was overly optimistic? I thought that was what you Slytherins did—utilized whatever chance came your way. But maybe that's only the great ones?" His eyes met Draco's challengingly.
Draco sneered. "And if I'd rather stay here than spend even a moment with you?" he asked.
"No skin off my nose, really. But I'd say you obviously didn't. Seeing as you must have signed the papers. They wouldn't have let you in here otherwise."
Draco took a deep breath and shot Potter a sour look. "Fine. What do I do, then?" he asked.
Potter relaxed, and motioned him closer. Draco went guardedly, but without hesitation. Once he was at Potter's side, he was handed a small vial. "Drink this. It'll knock you out, and then the change will happen. Once the change is done, you'll wake, and then we can go to my place."
"How do I know this will do what you say?" Draco asked, examining the liquid in the vial. It was silvery—almost like quicksilver, though far more liquid.
"Snape made it. Tested it on himself."
Draco looked up, surprised at the mention of his old Professor. He had heard that his old mentor had been cleared of all charges when it had been discovered that he had been acting as a spy under Dumbledore's orders all along. Draco hadn't seen him since the final battle. Now he knew why. He'd been working to save those he still considered his charges—his Slytherins. "Severus made it?"
Potter nodded. "He says he looks forward to seeing you as soon as he's allowed."
"I'll be allowed to see him?" Draco said, astonished.
"Probably not unsupervised, but yes, he'll be allowed to come see you at my place."
Draco looked back down at the vial in his hand. If this was what it took to regain his life… "Fine." He raised the vial to drink it, but Potter restrained his arm.
"You should probably lie down first. More comfortable that way."
Draco glared at him, but settled onto the bed in a sitting position before raising the vial once more. "Well, here goes nothing…" He gulped down the liquid, and felt it coat his mouth, then slide down his throat like a slick of oil. He gagged, and a feeling of creeping coldness made him curl into a ball, and the world went black.
◦♦☼♦◦
When Draco recovered consciousness, at first he thought that the potion had failed. After all, he remembered everything that had happened up to the taking of the potion. That couldn't be right if he'd de-aged to eight years of age, could it? But then he opened his eyes. Potter was sitting next to the bed, reading a piece of parchment, and Draco was surprised how large he looked. Draco had forgotten what adults had looked like when he'd been young. He'd been small for his age until he'd hit puberty, then he had shot up like a weed. Somehow, in the process, the memory of others towering over him had been lost.
"Potter?" he said, and was horrified to hear how high his voice had been as a child. Potter looked up from whatever it was he was reading.
"How are you feeling?" Potter he asked as he stood and moved to Draco's side.
"Strange." Draco winced at the lisping of the word, then swallowed, remembering the strange, slick feel of the potion sliding down his throat. "I think something's wrong, Potter."
"Oh?"
"Yeah. I…I remember everything. I thought that I'd have my memories to the age of eight, but I can even remember drinking that sludge of a potion."
"Nothing's wrong, Draco. Snape made sure the potion wouldn't interfere with memory at all."
"So then how, exactly, will this help?" Draco managed to drawl, even in his high, childish voice.
"We don't want to change who you are. Just your opinions about the Muggle world, Draco. This way, you know you're more vulnerable, and that makes you more open to what we're trying to teach you."
Draco scowled, sitting up slowly as he digested what Potter had said. "So now what?"
Potter smiled. "Back to my place," he told him.
Draco hopped off the bed, and looked rather horrified when he discovered he only came up to somewhere between Potter's elbow and his shoulder. "How are we getting there?"
"The Ministry has provided everyone with Portkeys." He showed Draco a large coin on the table next to his bed. "Shall we?"
Draco shrugged. "No time like the present."
Potter picked it up. "It's word-activated." He held it out to Draco. "Hold on tight." Draco grasped the coin Potter was holding, and shut his eyes. He'd always hated portkeys, preferring side-along apparition if it were offered. But no one was able to apparate from Azkaban, so this was the only option, unless he wanted to go the long way… Potter said, "Home," and Draco felt the world spin around him.
When the world stopped spinning, Draco found himself on the floor in a heap, his now over-large robe a huge puddle around him. He looked up to see that Potter looked ruffled, but had still managed to stay on his feet, and not wanting to be outdone, child or not, Draco stumbled to his feet as well.
"I don't suppose you have any size-appropriate clothing for me, Potter?" he asked.
Potter sighed. "Yes, we should get that out of the way, and then a tour and some ground rules, I think. Come on. I have your room all prepared." He exited the room they were in and began leading the way down a hallway lined with pictures. Mostly pictures of Potter and his friends at Hogwarts, but a few of a couple Draco recognized as Potter's parents, and more of four boys, one of whom looked a great deal like Potter himself.
At the end of the hall, Potter opened the door to a small but well-furnished room, and waved Draco in. There was a small double bed in one corner, a side-table next to it, and a desk and chair on the opposite wall, with a bookcase next to that.
Potter moved to a wardrobe which sat at the foot of the bed. "I got things in a range of sizes, as you'll be growing much quicker than a normal child, so there ought be something in there that should fit you."
Potter left the room, and Draco turned to look at the clothing in the wardrobe. It wasn't luxurious clothing, by any means, but it was a damned sight better than prison robes. He pulled off the robes, and pulled out a pair of black pants and a blue jumper, sighing in relief at the feel of good, clean material against his skin once more. Properly dressed, he opened the door to the room, where Potter stood waiting.
Potter looked at him appraisingly for a moment, then nodded. "Looks like the shopkeeper did a pretty good job. Comfortable?"
Draco nodded.
"Tour then, I suppose," Potter said. He pointed at the door at the end of the hall. "This is the bathroom. We share, so keep that in mind, all right?" Draco shrugged. Potter pointed at the door across from Draco's room. "This is my room. You're not to go in there unless I specifically invite you, got it?" Draco nodded to indicate he understood, and Potter moved down the hall. "The other two rooms are guest rooms. Sometimes Ron and Hermione come to stay for the weekend. And I like having space." Draco snorted at the idea that two small guest rooms equaled space. Malfoy Manor had over ten guest bedrooms, not including the rooms reserved for visiting family.
Potter led the way back to the room they had arrived in. "This is the living room. Feel free to relax in here, but you're to clean up any mess you make. You are more than welcome to read any of the books, but please be careful with them. Some of them are very special to me. They were my parents', and my godfather's. I'd like to keep them in one piece if I can. There are games and puzzles in that closet, if you feel like something other than reading."
He was obviously waiting for Draco's acknowledgement, so Draco snorted and rolled his eyes. "Please, Potter. It's not like I spend all my time tearing pages from books…" Potter glowered at him, and he sighed. "Fine. Whatever. Can we get on with this?"
Harry sighed, then continued into the next room.
"This is the kitchen. We'll eat here, except on special occasions, and you'll be helping with all the meals…"
"What?"
Potter turned to look at him. "You were one of the best students in potions, Draco. Surely a little cooking won't worry you…"
"Potions are not cooking, Potter. I'm no house-elf."
Potter frowned, and Draco was sure he was about to be chastised for refusing to cook. But Potter had something else on his mind. "About this 'Potter' stuff…"
"What about it? It's your name, isn't it?"
Potter sighed. "True. But I highly doubt you're going to let your guard down to someone you insist on calling by their last names. From now on, rule number one is no last names. You're Draco, I'm Harry. And if you forget, you'll be sent to your room for time out. If you purposefully refuse, you get an extra chore for the day."
Draco was going to remark that no, that was something more along the lines of rule six or seven when he realized what Harry had just said. "I have chores?" Draco exclaimed.
"There are only two of us living in this house, Draco. No house-elves to clean up after you or serve you steak tartare, or whatever it is you like to eat. If we make a mess, we clean it. If we want to eat, we cook. Simple as that. Understand?"
Draco glowered at him. "I suppose."
"It's not that big a deal, Draco. I just expect you to help me cook, and to clean up after yourself. Surely one chore beyond that won't be too taxing."
Draco grumbled to himself, "Not if you're a house-elf…" And Potter pretended to not hear him, leading the way from the room. Draco followed him down a short hall, and into another room filled with Muggle equipment. "What is all this?
"I call it my den. It's not really a study. It's where I keep all my electronics."
"Elec-what?"
"Muggle technology." He pointed at a large glassy box. "That's my Telly, and I have a VCR and a DVD player." He turned and pointed to the other end of the room where a set of boxes stood on a desk. "And that's my computer."
"All right…" Draco said. "So what are they?"
Potter grinned. "Watch this." He moved to the 'Telly,' and picked up a smaller box, then pressed a few buttons, at which the 'Telly' sprang to life. Draco watched in amazement as a story began playing across the box. Two men were in a pub talking about some Muggle sport, and complaining about the price of their drinks. Another came by and knocked one of the talkers off his stool, and punches began to be thrown until the whole pub was involved. Wide-eyed, Draco turned to Potter. "How long does the picture go on? And how did they capture the voices?"
Potter smiled. "I'm not really sure how they make them, but they're all sorts of different lengths, from just a few minutes, to hours."
Draco shook his head in amazement, enraptured by the scene playing out on the box until Potter shut it off once more. He put his hand on Draco's shoulder to get his attention, as Draco was still gazing dazedly at the screen. Draco blinked, recalling where he was, and pulled quickly away from Potter. Potter didn't seem to mind, though. He smiled. "Come on, let's go whip something up for dinner, then we can watch a movie when we're done, all right?"
"Movie? What's that?"
"A really long story. At least a couple of hours worth."
Draco thought that sounded quite appealing, but he was hardly going to tell Potter that. "That should be interesting."
Potter suppressed a chuckle. "I can't wait to show you the computer…"
TBC
