PissedOffEskimo
Pairing: HP/DM (graphic); HP/LM (non-con); HP/SS (implied)
Rating:R (Eventually)
Author's Note: Note, I have officially changed the pairings. That means I've made up my mind. Yes, gawk in wonder and try to figure out "How the hell?" Also, I'll be adding HP/a Weasley (no Ginny), at some point. I just have to figure out which one. Suggestions?
Summer 2/Part A:
July 1, 1991
It had taken Minerva only two weeks to get the truth from Harry, but it had been a long two weeks. Two weeks of him waking up to nightmares like he had in the beginning, two weeks of him shying away anytime his summer was mentioned, or clamming up when he thought he'd done something wrong. It had been two weeks that had taken Minerva so by surprise that when he finally did speak up and say, in a very small voice that sounded more like a squeak, "He hit me," that she couldn't formulate an immediate response. Then, he had added very quickly, "That's all."
That's all? She hadn't given much thought the previous year to the kind of lasting damage the Dursleys' abuse might have had. Harry had been so outgoing and so affectionate and so immediately… normal. It had been very easy to pretend he was like any other nine-year-old and forget the rest.
So, she'd taken him to Albus, made Harry tell him, and Dumbledore, with very somber eyes, had said that it would never happen again. He'd looked sad and concerned, but not surprise and Minerva didn't doubt he had known all along and was simply waiting for Harry to tell someone.
She had sat Harry down later that evening and explained in as calm a manner as she could, that what the Dursleys had done was wrong. That they shouldn't have locked him in a cupboard, or starved him, or hit him and that if anybody ever did anything like that again it was important that he tell Dumbledore or someone else immediately. He hadn't appeared to believe her, not really, but had nodded and said that he understood, which was going to have to be enough for then.
Like before, however, his shyness was short lived. With returning students fawning over him and, god help her, trying to corrupt him further, it wasn't long before he was the same over-energetic handful that she remembered. The only saving grace was that he had apparently learned his lesson about eating things like entire chocolate cakes on his own and did not come down with any mysterious stomach ailments that year.
What he did come down with, however, was a severe cold. Severe, only because he had not told anyone he was feeling ill. In fact, he'd gotten up a little earlier and smiled a bit more. She had noticed he looked tired, but thought he'd had another restless night. It wasn't until the next morning, when he was burning up with fever and had broken into a cold sweat that she'd known he was sick at all.
When asked why he didn't say anything he'd said that he hadn't wanted to be a bother and that his Aunt Petunia had always told him if he were well enough to walk, he was well enough to go about his day without bothering her. Minerva hadn't been that tempted to go and hunt down his relatives since he'd first arrived with that bright bruise marring his cheek.
With everything that had happened that year it was difficult to look Harry in the eye and explain that he had to stay with Professor Snape again that summer, but to her great surprise, that was not what he had complained about. He was very docile about the whole affair right up until she told him Draco Malfoy would be returning again. At the mention of young Malfoy he'd immediately become agitated, saying, "I'd rather spend my entire summer locked in a room alone with the greasy git than have to entertain that… that…"
Then, he'd used a word that proved he'd been spending far too much time with the Weasley twins and earned him his first official grounding from Minerva and a stern lecture on inappropriate language. In the end, however, Dumbledore insisted that Draco was coming and Harry had gone back to moping about the castle as summer approached.
If Minerva thought it possible, she would have requested that Harry be allowed to accompany her home, but his safety came first and Hogwarts was the safest place for him. So, instead, she had made sure he had plenty of things to occupy him during the next few weeks. She'd even bought him several fictional books that did not fall under the category of classics and toys that weren't educational, but looked interesting enough to keep his attention for more than five minutes.
When it was time for her to leave, Harry offered to see her to the front, instead of her having to drop him off with Snape and she was suspicious, but he was nearly eleven-years-old and there weren't a great many places he could go inside of Hogwarts that Dumbledore couldn't find. She hugged him goodbye, hoping that she wouldn't have to return to help look for him that evening.
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Harry went to the dungeons the moment Professor McGonagall's carriage was out of sight. He had thought about wandering around the castle and putting it off, but in the end, that was only going to make it worse and he had promised her he would go straight there. After an entire year of avoiding Snape and being avoided in return, he was not looking forward to living with the man for eight weeks. Of course, if he were lucky, six of those weeks would go the same as last year and he wouldn't be spending nearly as much time in the dungeons as he would be with Hagrid, or Dumbledore, or in the kitchens, or the halls; anywhere but there.
Snape was at his desk when Harry entered, looking over something with a concentrated knit in his brow. He didn't look up as Harry went into his bedroom and while Harry thought it was incredibly rude of him, he was also relieved. The room looked like it had the previous year, with the exception of a new poster hanging on the wall over his bed and a trunk that he knew was now overflowing with things for him to do.
Professor McGonagall really had gone all out preparing him for the summer. She'd bought him clothes that were slightly bigger, in case he grew some more, several pairs of muggle jeans that he could get dirty, books with titles like 'The White Mountains' and 'The Island of Adventure' that were quiet obviously not historical or autobiographical in any way, his own chess set because she'd seen one of the Ravenclaw's trying to teach it to him, exploding snap, playing cards with moving pictures of dragons on them because no matter how many times he saw it Harry was always interested in watching pictures move, and more toys than he'd had in his entire life. He'd even gotten a new set of soldiers that weren't broken like his olds ones, only they weren't really soldiers, they were wizards and they hexed each other in battle instead of fighting with swords.
It had all been so overwhelming when he'd first seen it, Harry hadn't known what to say. 'Thank you' seemed a bit understated, but he said it anyway, for lack of anything better. McGonagall seemed pleased by it and had hugged him and told him that he was to write her once a week and tell her everything, no matter how silly it seemed. Harry really wasn't sure what he was supposed to write, but he had a week to figure it out.
Getting up from the bed, Harry went to his desk and looked at the books blankly. He didn't even know where to start. There were too many of them, twelve, actually, but he'd only ever had five unread books at a time and twelve seemed like such a large number when he had so many other things to do.
He was so intent on staring at the brightly colored bindings that he jumped when Snape opened his door. He sat up straight and tried not to look as intimidated as he felt. His stomach was all knots, like he was going to be sick.
"Lunch will be served is ten minutes, Potter, I do not expect you to be late."
The door closed again and Harry breathed a great sigh of relief. It was going to be a long summer.
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Draco sat in the carriage with his father, arms crossed over his chest, pouting. He didn't care if he looked childish and he certainly didn't care if it wasn't Malfoyish because it wasn't very Malfoyish to spend two weeks out of every summer with a half-blood orphan, either.
It wasn't as if his summers were all that interesting to begin with. He usually spent them following his mother around as she went shopping and to see various relatives who sized him up, telling her what a good boy he was. It was all terribly boring, but the last few weeks of summer, when there were no more irritating relatives left to see and there were no more clothes to buy him, his mother left him alone and he was free to spend time with his friends, Gregory and Vincent, or whatever else struck his fancy. Spending time with Potter, however, in no way 'struck his fancy.'
His father stared at him disapprovingly, "Sit straight, Draco."
Draco sighed and sat straighter.
"And lower your arms."
He sighed louder and did as he was told.
"Don't sigh."
He held in the urge to do it again. "Is there anything I can do, father?" It wasn't often he talked back, because Lucius Malfoy was not the sort of person you talked back to, but Draco was too irritated to care at the moment.
His father narrowed his eyes angrily. "You can stop acting like a child." When Draco opened his mouth to say that he was not acting like a child, he was cut off. "You can start behaving like a Malfoy. Malfoys do not slouch and they do not pout. I will not have you make such an impression on the Potter boy."
"Malfoys don't bother with making impressions on half-bloods like Potter."
"Malfoys do what they must and they do it with dignity. Allegiances are everything Draco and that boy will be an asset. If I find you have jeopardized that with your insolent behavior I will not hesitate to punish you. Am I understood?"
Draco looked down at his lap. Punished meant the cane and the last time his father had punished him he hadn't been able to sit down for several days. "Yes, Father."
"Head up, Draco, we're approaching the school."
Looking out the window, Draco saw Snape standing outside, a hand clenched tightly on Harry's shoulder in an entirely unaffectionate way. Actually, it looked rather like he was trying to restrain him. Harry jerked his shoulder, but didn't try and move away.
Draco bit his lip anxiously then forced himself to suppress the unrefined gesture. What if Harry said or did something that let his father known they didn't get along? Would he be punished for not having made friends with Harry last summer?
Lucius stood as the carriage stopped and opened the door, stepping out. Draco quickly followed, holding his head up and his hands firmly at his sides, watching Harry. The other boy's head was down and his fists were clenched tightly.
Walking up, Draco nodded at him, "Hello, Harry."
Harry looked up, his mouth partly open and his eyebrows furrowed in annoyance. For a moment, Draco thought that Harry was going to make a cutting remark and he blanched slightly. Harry, however, didn't say anything other than, "Hello, Draco," though he was looking at Draco strangely.
Lucius watched them for a moment, his eyes staying on Harry a little longer than was necessary before looking up at Severus. "Good afternoon, Severus."
"Good afternoon, Lucius, I trust your ride was pleasant."
"As pleasant as can be expected."
It was always so boring watching his father chat with his associates, they always said the same things. Looking at Harry, he tried to catch the other boy's eye, but Harry seemed more interested in the ground. His father put a hand on his shoulder, catching him off guard, but he managed not to look too surprised.
"I'll be leaving now, Draco, I trust you and young Mister Potter will have fun." The hand on his shoulder tightened minutely, just enough to remind him that it was not so much a fond goodbye as an order.
He watched the carriage until it was out of sight, aware that someone had gone back inside, but assuming it was Harry. When he turned around, however, he found Harry staring oddly at him again. He looked around as discreetly as possible; reassuring himself that Snape had indeed gone inside before turning back to Harry. "What?"
Harry shrugged, "Don't know."
"Then why are you staring? Am I that interesting, Potter?"
Harry flushed slightly. "No, it's just odd, that's all."
Draco felt his irritation from the previous summer returning, "What's odd?"
"I don't know, it just is."
Rolling his eyes, Draco brushed past Harry to go inside and made his way to the dungeons. His things would be seen to by the house elves and he wanted to make sure that everything got there and that it was properly put away. Last time they had folded his trousers instead of hanging them and he'd had to deal with creases all summer.
It didn't occur to him until he was half there that Harry was following him. Turning around abruptly, he crossed his arms over his chest, deciding that it was an appropriate gesture when angry, as his father used it often enough on him. "Why are you following me."
Harry had an annoyed look on his face, his mouth pursed and his eyes narrowed slightly. "Snape's orders. I'm to stay with you this summer as apposed to running off on my own."
Of all the… "What if I don't want you around me?"
"Well, I guess he didn't think about that, did he?"
Part of Draco knew that Harry was as upset about the situation as he was. They didn't like each other, it was absurd that they be required to stay in each other's company. The other part of him was more than a little upset that Harry found his presence so distasteful. Draco was a pureblood, his family lineage had proud history. Harry was the low class half-blood. If anyone were to find the situation distasteful, it should be Draco, not Harry.
For a moment, Draco bit his lip, despite the fact that his father repeatedly told him not to. Bugger his father anyway, he wasn't the one having to deal with a Potter. "So, you're just going to follow me around, then?"
"Yes, I thought I might as you seem like such a nice person to be around."
It took Draco a moment to recognize the sarcasm. He didn't hear a great deal of it and when he did it certainly wasn't aimed at him. He threw his arms back down to his sides and turned around, storming towards the dungeons. If Harry were going to be a prat, his father couldn't very well blame him for simply being one back. In fact…
A smile started to spread across his face and he slowed his pace a little. Yes, this could very much work out to his advantage. He stopped at Snape's door and looked back at Harry, smile still in place and saw the unnerved look on the dark haired boy's face. Definitely to his advantage.-tbc-