Trigger warning: dub-con/non-con All of this happens in dreams, there is no actual rape. But the nightmares do deal with it. They are in the epilogue and realistically can be skipped if need be. It's fairly obvious fairly quickly where they are. One is it's own section and the other is in the first half of a section.

Also, as such, this chapter is rated M. It is the only chapter that is rated M, thus why the rest of the story is rated T.

If any of this puts you off this chapter it's fine. Please don't push yourself. It's totally skippable if you need to.


Harry sits on his bed, fiddling with the bracelets Draco gave him for his birthday. He had put them on once the boy was gone and hasn't taken them off since. The bottom is soft against the skin of his wrist. The top is warm where he traces his finger over the pattern, again and again. Now, instead of tracing the names on his wrist, he traces the designs on the band.

And it is fitting that he does so, for it is the boy who he is thinking about now. Draco Malfoy. He has changed, since his birthday, a week ago. Or he appears to have changed. There has been a shift in their relationship and Harry cannot understand what it is. Draco has been... nicer to Harry. He had stopped mocking him before, but now it goes farther than that. Now he smiles and talks to him. Tentatively. As if he is unsure he is doing the right thing.

But why would he wonder that? Why would he care? He never did before. He took delight in making Harry's life as miserable as he could. Ever since that first declaration in first year, he has gone out of his way to make it clear he hates him. Now he is doing the opposite. Now it seems as if he is trying to show he cares.

He doesn't know what Draco wants. That is the real problem. He could deal with the change in attitude, if only he knew what Draco wanted. If he had more faith in people, maybe he would believe Draco is trying to make it up to him. To apologize, through actions, for the past four years. But Harry doesn't have that faith. Nor is he is Gryffindor. He is a Slytherin. He knows better.

Everything has a price.

So while, yes, he understands that Draco is making an overturn at something, he doesn't know what exactly it is. Nor does he know why. He knows he has to think, but about what?

It's maddening. All of a sudden, he can't get the blonde out of his head. He thought he was past this. Thought he no longer cared about soulmates. They only bring pain. People can talk all they want about how great they are. For Harry, that is never true.

And he doesn't care. He doesn't. What is the point? A monster or the boy who hates him. It is never going to turn out well, so why would he care? Life has brought him enough pain, without this. He is better off alone. He does not care about his soulmate. He has no reason to.

And yet...

He pulls his hair in frustration. And yet the hope refuses to die completely. It's still there. It may be small, a fragile thread in a strong wind, but it still exists. It's still there. It lies right next to the sassy part of his mind that he always buries. It is just as helpful to him as his hope.

Maybe that's part of the problem. Both Regulus and Severus have been encouraging that part of his mind to come out more. Not that Severus ever encourages disrespect or cheek. But he has a habit of smirking whenever Harry says something particularly sarcastic. Regulus assures him his partner finds it entertaining, even if he'll never admit it. It shows spirit.

It shows he is not broken. He can carry on. It is the Slytherin way, to thumb his nose at the rest of the world when they try to keep him down. When they try to tear him apart simply for existing. He will not yield. He will not hide. He will not surrender.

He is a survivor.

Every day he goes on, he is a survivor. Every time he smiles. Every time he laughs. Each time he relies on a friend instead of going on alone. It shows he can go on. That they haven't broken him yet. That he is stronger than they are. He can take what they throw at him. They will never win.

At least that's what he's told. Some days he doesn't believe them. Some days it feels as if the world has won. What does he have after all? Massive trust issues, depression, nightmares, ptsd, and a mass of scars. That's not anything to be proud of. It's a list of failures, not accomplishments. So what if he is still here? He doesn't want to be, not really. Not most of the time.

But still he carries on. Not gracefully, but he does. Luna tells him the Jackalburs haven't won yet. He wishes there was a potion to get rid of them all at one time. He had asked Severus, once, if there was. All the man did was laugh. A bitter laugh, but a laugh none the less. He took it as a 'no'.

All this trouble over two stupid names. Who even decided what they meant anyways? Maybe they aren't the names of your soulmate and your rival. Maybe they are just the names on the two people you will interact with the most. Or maybe they are the two who will make the biggest impact of your life. The latter is certainly true for him. No one can explain how the names work. They put it down to magic and call it a day.

That doesn't sit well with Harry. He doesn't have any faith in destiny and no trust in fate. Both have screwed him over far too many times for him to. He doesn't believe in a faceless, nameless being who decides how life is run. He believes in things he can touch. The unseen is never for him. It's one of the reasons he hates Divination so much. Besides the fact he is convinced the Professor is out to get him. Why else would she predict his death so much?

Magic is not some unexplained, mysterious phenomenon. It has rules and regulations, just like everything else. It has it's limits as well. So to explain something away by magic does not work. Magic can be explained. Not to do so is both stupid and ignorant.

Nor is magic perfect. Nothing is perfect and magic is no exception to this. Mistakes can be made, spells ruined or mutated, potions changed. Nothing is forever. Everything adapts. The world would not exist if it did not. So by that logic, magic can makes mistakes. If soulmates are magic, can soulmates be mistaken as well? Could the names be wrong?

He has never voiced such thoughts. He knows how that would go. He would be seen as even more of a freak than he already is. Society as a whole holds soulmates to be sacred. Nothing is more special, more extraordinary, than soulmates. Even the names of the enemies are held to the same level.

It is as if the two words printed neatly on your wrist is in charge of your entire life. It is absurd. But Merlin forbid you question it. Clearly there is something wrong with you if you do so.

As he there aren't enough things wrong with him.

He gives his hair another sharp tug for good measure. This is ridiculous. He shouldn't be wasting time thinking about such rubbish. And that is what it is, rubbish. But he can't help it. There is some part of his brain that cannot let it go, no matter how much he wants to. He assumes it is the part of his brain that absorbs all social expectations and cues. He was raised in this culture of thought his entire life, be it Muggle or Magical. There will probably always be some part of his brain that categorizes it as important. That doesn't mean he has to agree with it.

Still, he wishes that part of his mind would belt up. He doesn't need the added stress. Things are bad enough without worrying about the social concept of soulmates and enemies. He has other things on his mind.

But it would potentially explain why Draco is acting the way he is. If the blonde boy has decided that Harry is his soulmate, than he would want to make amends. He want to be with him, romantically. Maybe. It could be that the idea is better than the actual thing in this case.

Or maybe his godfather's lessons have finally gotten through his thick head and he is attempting to be a decent human being. They have been talking with him quite a bit. Severus will talk with Harry about his issues and Regulus will talk to Draco about his. So, maybe that is it.

He believe that less than his first theory.

Or maybe it is neither. Maybe this is all a cruel prank and as soon as he lets his guard down, Draco will strike. He has never forgotten that first Christmas, with the prank 'present'. He remembers the hope he felt and how quickly it was crushed. It is always that bloody hope that gets him into trouble. It has done him more harm than any of the dangers he has faced.

More than dragon fire, more than basilisk venom, more than Dementors, hope has proven to be the most dangerous thing is Harry's life. It burns more than anything. It drags him down deeper than anything. It tears him apart more viciously than anything else he has encountered. Hope is the true enemy because it can destroy you better than any hate can.

It is this theory that he fears most of all. Because it is the most likely one to be true.

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Do people ever really change? Can they? Do they have that ability? Or do they simply hide parts of themselves from the world, showing them as need be?

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"Harry Potter," Tom Riddle greets.

He is back in the Chamber. It is the same as it was last time. Water lays in puddles around him. There is a chill in the air. The walls are an unforgiving grey. It is all the same. Only this time he is alone. Ginny is not there, laying, dying, on the ground.

"I have been waiting for you Harry Potter," he continues, "for a very long time now." He walks closer.

Harry backs up. "Stay away from me."

"Oh come now, is that anyway to greet your soulmate?" he asks, mockingly. He continues forward as Harry backs up. He looks like a predator, stalking his prey. And that is exactly what Harry feels like. Prey. There is a hungry look in Riddle's eyes.

He backs into something hard, but smooth. He feels it. Scales. And then he hears the hiss. It is the basilisk. He turns to run, but can't.

"Come now, don't be like that. You don't want to upset my pet, now do you?" Riddle closes in, bracketing Harry with his body. The basilisk completes the circle. He is trapped.

He begins to tremble. "What do you want?" he asks, trying to sound brave, but failing.

"Why I thought it would be obvious. You of course." He reaches up and gently strokes Harry's cheek. "Such soft skin," he murmurs, "smooth, unblemished. You are beautiful." He crowds closer.

Harry shivers.

"Shh, no need to be afraid now. I won't hurt you. We belong together." He then bends his head and kisses Harry. It is a soft kiss. A gentle one. He massages his lips with Harry's own. It feels good. Nice. Pleasant. It is not at all forceful as he feared it would be.

Riddle's hand slips under his shirt and caresses his stomach and then his chest. He brushes a nipple and Harry can't help but gasp at the sensation. Riddle chuckles into the kiss and does it again. Harry shivers again, but this time it isn't in fear, but pleasure. He has never felt like this before.

"That's right little one, just feel," he encourages as he begins to play with it. He runs a finger over it, again and again. He pinches it and then soothes it. Then he begins again. He brings his other hand down to do the same with the other.

Harry's hips jerk in response.

"So very sensitive. I wonder what will happen when I do this?" he lowers his hand, brushing the front of Harry's trousers. Harry gasps.

Riddle chuckles again. "That's it. Tell me how it feels," one hand continues to play with his nipple and the other rubs the front of his trousers softly.

Harry trembles. He leans back, but the feeling of scales brings him back to himself. He shakes his head. "No," he protests, "No. Stop, I don't want this."

Riddle gives a hard squeeze to his shaft. "I do believe your cock says otherwise."

"No, don't. Please don't."

"Just relax little one. I told you, you belong to me. I will take good care of you."

"Please," he begs.

"You are mine. I take care of what is mine." He puts more pressure on his cock, rubbing it harder through his trousers.

Harry shakes. It feels so good. It shouldn't. This is wrong, so very wrong. But he can't help the buck his hips give, seeking more friction.

"Yes," he hisses, "that's right. Feel it. I want you to feel it and remember who you belong to." He lowers his head and runs his lips softly over his neck. When he finds a particularly sensitive spot, he sucks on it, marking it. There most definitely is going to be a bruise there. Riddle is making sure of it.

He bites his collarbone gently and Harry keens. What is happening? How can this feel so good? His hips give another helpless jerk. "Please," he says again and now he isn't sure if he is begging Riddle to stop or continue.

"As you wish," he says. He unbuttons the trousers and reaches in, touching his cock with his hand. Harry gasps. It feels even better without the barrier of clothes between them. He closes his eyes, body focused on the pleasure while his mind revolts.

Riddle strokes him slowly, playing with his bollocks every so often. He opens Harry's shirt and sucks a nipple in his mouth, biting and licking it. He then switches to the other one. And then he switches again. All the while his hand steadily strokes him.

Harry is incoherent by now. His hips are moving by themselves, seeking all the friction they can find. He keens and groans and sobs out his pleasure, never wanting it to end. It feels so good. He never knew it could feel so good.

He can feel a tingling in his bollocks. "I- I'm goin- oh!" he tries to say.

Riddle slows down his hand and Harry wails. "Who do you belong to?" he asks.

He shakes his head, unable to reply.

"Come now, only good boys get to come. Now tell me, who do you belong to?" he gives another firm stroke, "Be a good boy and tell me."

"Y- y- you," Harry stutters.

"What was that?"

"I belong to you!" he manages to yell.

"Good boy," Riddle praises, "that's right. You belong to me. You are my soulmate. Mine." He gives Harry a final squeeze and he comes with a shout.

Harry jerks up in bed with that shout still on his lips. He looks around, seeing he is still in his bedroom at Grimmauld Place. His pants are wet. A horrified feeling comes over him and he shudders. It was all a dream. Just a dream. But what a dream it was. He curls up in a ball and closes his eyes, trying to get to forget the feel of those hands on him.

It doesn't work.

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Sometimes hell is not a place, but a state of mind. Thoughts and fears run wild. The mind can make a heaven out of hell or a hell out of heaven. Sweet dreams.

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"Harry," Draco greets at breakfast one morning.

Harry nods in return. He is still not use to the other boy calling him by his first name. It sounds unnatural on his tongue. No matter that he has a habit of thinking of him as 'Draco', he doesn't call him that out loud. He is Malfoy. Always Malfoy.

"Great news," he is grinning, "Severus has agreed to take us to the Manor so we can fly."

Harry nods again. He can see why Draco is excited. He loves flying. He is the Seeker on their Quidditch team. The only time Harry has flown was in their first year, during lessons. And even then, he stayed close to the ground. Not because he wanted to, but because he was trying to draw attention away from himself. And from the way classes went, with the Gryffindors, it wasn't hard to do. He hasn't even had a chance to try his new Firebolt yet.

Draco is practically bouncing in his seat, looking most undignified. Is flying really that great? He is probably excited to go home, for however short a time, as well. He assumes that is where they are going. After all, how many places would he simply call 'the Manor'?

Severus walks in, takes one look at him and snorts. "Do try not to hit the ceiling Draco," he comments, "I would hate to have plaster in my food."

Draco grins. "Sorry Uncle Sev."

Severus raises an eyebrow at him. "We have not left yet. I can still change my mind."

"But you love me too much," he tells his godfather.

Severus snorts. "Either finish eating or get ready. I would like some peace before I have to endure a morning filled with obnoxious excitement and reckless behavior."

Draco shoots up from the table and runs out the door. "Ta Uncle Sev," he yells as he leaves.

Harry keeps his head down and calmly continues eating.

Severus sighs. "Regulus owes me," he mutters to himself.

"I can stay here, Sir, if you want," he offers.

"What Potter, not excited? One would think you would want to test out your new broom. It is the fastest one on the market. Shouldn't that appeal to young, reckless dunderheads such as yourself?" he asks lightly.

Harry shrugs. "I never really flew before."

"And you have no desire to do so now?"

He shrugs again, not saying anything.

"I require a verbal answer Mr Potter."

He always does. "I'm not all that into Quidditch, so what's the point? Isn't that what flying is all about?"

"According to your peers? Yes. But you are allowed to fly just to fly as well. Being obsessed with Quidditch is not a requirement. It is a perfectly respectable hobby by itself."

"I thought you said 'that only dunderheads partake in such a reckless and wasteful activity'?" he quotes with a small smirk.

Severus snorts. "And I stand by what I said. I see no appeal in it. But I do believe that you will find it a relaxing activity. You flew well in your first year."

Harry looks up, surprised.

"Just because I appeared to hate you, does not mean I was not watching. Being a spy means you take in the mundane as well as the thrilling."

Harry nods thoughtfully. More evidence that Severus is not the bastard he acts like. He has been keeping track of these things, ever since Regulus asked to be his legal guardians/parents. He is still no closer to deciding now then he was then. But he is thinking about it.

"James was also an excellent flyer. He played Chaser for Gryffindor all six years," Regulus tells him as he walks into the kitchen. He is more likely to mention James than Severus. He doesn't have the same blinding, all consuming hate that his partner has. Oh, he still hates James, but he can bring himself to mention the name. For Harry's sake at least. And he paints the name in a more realistic light than Black ever does when he mentions him. Severus, on the other hand, will mention Lily rarely, but Regulus will never talk about her at all. Harry doesn't know why and he has never asked.

Harry doesn't know what to think about them. The first time he saw them, in the Mirror of Erised he was enthralled. Not only was that his first time seeing them, it was his hearts deepest desire. A family of his own. Of course his parents appeared. And they saved his life, when Voldemort tried to kill him as a baby. Then again, he isn't exactly what you call thankful for that. Some days he wishes they let the monster do what he wanted. They could have replaced him easily enough. They didn't have to die.

Black likes to tell him about his school days with James and Remus. He was never really comfortable with that. It wasn't the pranks themselves that was the problem. He never would spend time with the twins if it was. But some of those pranks... Well, actually, it was many of those pranks that sounded too close to bullying to him. Especially the ones involving Severus.

In the early days, when Black first started writing him, it was almost as if he was mixing Harry up with James. Or he thought he should be more like his Father. He supposes it is understandable. The man did spend twelve years in Azkaban after all. But it didn't make it any easier to deal with. And he is better about it now. Somewhat.

So he has mixed feelings when someone brings them up. At least he knows neither Regulus nor Severus are telling him these things so he can be more like them.

Harry leaves the table and goes to his room to get ready. Draco is waiting for them in the hall. He has his broom in his hand and a smile on his face. He has never seen him act like this. Like a kid. He has never seen him this honestly happy or excited before. It is a good look on him, Harry decides.

"We are taking a portkey," Severus tells them.

Harry's stomach drops. Portkey. Just the name makes him nauseous. He can't help but connect that name to that day, when he was stolen away to the ceremony where Voldemort was resurrected and killed. It isn't a memory he cherishes. Draco doesn't notice, but Severus does. Mainly because he knows how he feel about them. He is probably using one so Harry can face his fear.

Bastard.

He takes a deep breath and holds onto the sock tightly, as well as Severus. He also suspects he is the reason the portkey is a sock. He can't picture the man using one ordinarily. But what is less intimidating than a sock? There is a feeling of a hook in his stomach and then weightlessness.

Less than a moment later, gravity returns and Harry ends up almost on his face. It is only Severus' strong grip that keeps him stable. Oh how he hates portkeys. He really does.

Draco lets out a whoop, mounts his broom and takes off without a word. Severus hands Harry an anti-nausea potion. He grimaces at the taste, but doesn't hesitate to drink it all. Potions may taste bad, but they work well. Severus isn't a Potion Master for anything.

The two walk towards Draco's Quidditch field set up behind the Manor. He looks around curiously as he does. The blonde boy's attitude now makes even more sense than before. The grounds are large and beautiful. The Manor is huge. Albino peacocks wander the gardens for some strange reason. It is a classic home of a rich, spoiled brat. The very definition of Draco Malfoy.

"In the air," Severus commands, "I do not plan on spending all day here."

Harry sighs, but obeys. He knows there is no way around this. And he really should try his new broom at least once. It isn't a cheap gift by any means. He mounts and kicks off. He is up in the air in an instant. It takes a few moments to remember the lessons Madam Hooch taught him, but it doesn't take long. Soon he is above tree level and then at hoop level. He leans forward and shoots off.

The wind blows through his hair and he finds himself grinning. He twists and performs a perfect spiral. He find himself laughing. He does it again and then does a small dive. Before he knows it, he is flying through the air as if he has been doing it all his life. As if he was born to fly. He has never felt so free. It is as if nothing exists anymore beside the sky around him and the broom beneath him. He let's out a whoop, sounding like Draco now. He doesn't care.

It is only when he hears a sharp, "Potter," that he remembers the rest of the world. Or, technically, he remembers Severus. He looks far below him to see the Professor glaring up at him. Well, he assumes he is glaring anyways. It is still his default expression. He goes into a steep dive, pulling up at the last moment, less than half a meter from the ground.

Severus is not impressed. "Are you trying to kill yourself?" he snarls.

Draco, on the other hand, "Merlin, Harry, that was bloody amazing! You're a natural."

Harry shrugs at them both, staring at the ground. He knew he would be fine, he doesn't see what the big deal is. But Severus is funny about him taking risks. And Draco should know how easy that was. And the compliment? Is he going to do that now? There is nothing amazing about him.

Severus sighs. "Home brat, before you give me a heart attack."

They take the portkey back to Grimmauld Place and Harry takes a shower. Severus doesn't say anymore about his dive, which surprises him. He thought he would, at the least, get a lecture on safety. But he doesn't. He is left alone. Which is fine with him. That's the way he wants it. He is in an odd mood and company would only make things worse. It happens sometimes.

That night, he dreams of flying.

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Freedom from the Earth's gravity is wonderful thing. There is noting weighing you down. Noting can touch up, up there.

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The rest of the summer follows the same. At least once a week, either Severus or Regulus would take them to the Manor to fly. Severus still forced Harry's biweekly sessions with him. Regulus still worked with Draco and made time for him. Draco was still nice to Harry. The twins, Luna and Black continued to write.

Thoughts and doubts still circled in his head. Panic attacks occurred, although they were finally lessening. And the nightmares continued to plague his sleep, no matter what he did.

He is forbidden to use a silencing charm, so that means sleepless nights for more than just him, if he is not careful. At least he is much better at biting his hand to keep quiet now. Not that either Professor agrees with him. Apparently it is not a healthy response. He is just trying to let them sleep. No reason for them to deal with every one of his dumb problems.

Before he knew it, it was time to return to Hogwarts.

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Drown in the noise of life.

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The first indication that something was wrong started at the train station. Severus and Regulus dropped them off and then flooed to Hogwarts. The twins and Luna met him and they secured their own compartment. Draco had nodded at him and went off to find his friends. Nothing unusual. Harry wasn't expecting anything else. He very much doubted he was going to see much of Draco from now on.

But then there was a knock at their door and when they opened it, Draco was outside. "May I enter?" he asks politely.

Harry nods, looking the boy over. He is holding himself stiffly. There doesn't appear to be anything physically wrong with him, but something is off. Maybe someone said something to him. He still isn't exactly over his Father's death, even if he is better.

There is an awkward pause before Luna comments, "Nargles," and the three of them nod.

Draco blinks at her. "What the hell is a Nargle?"

"They like to steal your homework and hide your shoes. They've very tricky."

"Oh, is that why you're always barefoot?"

"We thought you just used that as an excuse,"

"And you were actually holding a protest,"

"Against the use of shoes."

Luna giggles, but doesn't deny it.

Harry snorts. He knew it. The girl really hates wearing shoes for some reason. True, they are always missing, but Harry suspects the Nargles aren't behind that little problem. Homework? Yes. School books? Sure. Other missing belongings? Definitely. But shoes? He has his doubts.

Draco looks at them like they are crazy, but sits beside Luna none the less. He doesn't add much to the conversation, mainly content to stare off into the distance. The twins send him a questioning look, but he shrugs. Something is going on, but he doesn't know what. He is getting one of those feelings again. That is never a good sign.

They arrive and Harry is shocked to see thestrals pulling the carriages. They are a sight if you aren't prepared to see one. He can see why they have a bad reputation. Luna, being Luna, goes up and starts petting one. "They are really quite gentle," she tells him, "People think their violent beasts because only those who've seen death can see them. But they are loving creatures. This one's name is Atticus."

Behind them, the twins and Draco watch as Luna encourages Harry to pet him. Or, rather, thin air as they can see it. The thestrals skin is leather, but soft. He neighs softly, leaning into the touch. Harry gives him a small smile. Luna gives Atticus one more pat before entering the carriage. The rest of them follow. No one comments on the display outside.

The second clue something is wrong is when Harry hears, "Death Eater scum," hissed at them as they pass. He doesn't turn, because that never does anything good, but neither does Draco.

When they break off to sit down, the blonde hesitates the barest of a second before heading towards his usual group. That's when Harry knows something is wrong for sure. They won't let him in. They have closed ranks and refuse to make room for him. So does the next group. And the next. Finally, head held high, he comes and sits next to Harry at the end of the table. He doesn't say anything and neither does Harry. They don't need to. It is clear enough without words.

The firsties are Sorted and the feast begins without a word from either of them. It is not until it is finished and they are in the halls does someone break the silence. "Bunch of hypocrites," a voice behind them informs them.

Harry turns and see Zabini behind them. He can see a flash of relief in Draco's eyes before his face is once again blank. "Oh?" he asks.

"They are saying that because you stayed with Snape and Black, you are a traitor to the Cause. If they agree with the Cause of course," he flashes them a mocking grin, "If not, you are a Death Eater because Lord Malfoy was a Death Eater. Although I'd like to see them explain why Nott, Goyle and Crabbe are still welcome."

Draco nods.

"They are just using this as an excuse for another power play. They want a new Slytherin Prince," Zabini rolls his eyes, "so expect trouble."

"Obvious or covert?" Draco asks.

"Both. It depends on the intelligence level of those involved," he says and Harry thinks of Crabbe and Goyle. Failure is not an option in Slytherin, but those two are an exception. Mainly because they don't know any better. He puts it down to bad genes.

Draco nods again and subtly braces himself before asking, "Friend or friendly warning?"

The dark boy snorts. "Friend. You know I never cared for those power games of yours. Not every Slytherin has to play The Game. My family have a neutral stance on the war and I'm not letting our Housemates drive me away from you just because of something that happened before our generation. I stick by you."

Harry slips away quietly after that. He's not needed anymore. Draco still has a friend and he doubts either of them want him around. While Zabini was never one to give him trouble, he never did anything for him either. Not that Harry expected him to. It would have been social suicide. Especially being Draco's best mate.

A part of him is also darkly amused by his statement. 'Something that happened before our generation' indeed. Tell that to Voldemort, all the times he went after him. To them, the war may have no effect, but to Harry, it was a very real thing. He was born into it and it is only thanks to his two Professors that it is ended. He has no doubts that it would have continued, with him in the center, if not.

He has always been a child of war.

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The only certainty in this world is that everything will change.

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After the conversation with Zabini, Harry was expecting things to be tense in the common room. He was right.

The lines had clearly been drawn when he wasn't looking because everyone already had an established group. There were those that supported the Dark Lord and considered Draco a traitor. There were those that didn't and considered him Death Eater scum. There were those who were neutral and staying out of it, mainly by ignoring everyone else.

But for all that, Harry's life didn't change much. Draco's problems were not his. He was still ignored and hated, no matter his opinion on the subject so he did what he always did. He kept his head down. He had his own problems to worry about.

One would think that the trouble would be over with Voldemort dead. But while his body is, his ideals are not. Things are changing in the Wizarding World, but those changes aren't going to happen without a fight. Blood purity is the biggest issue. Muggles are another, along with the Statute of Secrecy. It is something debated from the Ministry down to the students and children of the Wizarding UK.

It showed in different ways. Anyone with connections to the Death Eaters, be they real or imaginary, are shunned and bullied by the rest of the school and welcome into the faction in Slytherin. Muggleborns now have a higher status, when they aren't being attacked. Debates on Wizarding vs Muggle culture are common. And Harry... well.

He is either a traitor to the Cause or a failure of a Saviour. He wasn't a Supporter nor did he do his job and defeat the Dark Lord. He can't do anything right, according to them. Always the disappointment. No one was on his side. Who wanted someone so useless?

The tension bled into all parts of the school, including class. Harry found out when his cauldron blew up one day. He jerked out of the way and Severus cast a shield charm on him just in time to save his from some serious burns.

Severus is furious. Harry has rarely seen him this angry. The last time, he thought that the man was going to kill the Headmaster. He backs up to the wall, hugging his arms to himself. This isn't going to be good.

"I suppose you think you are clever?" Severus addresses the classroom at large, "You believe you can sabotage your classmate's work and get away with it. Let me assure you, you will not. Now, does anyone want to confess?" it is a question, but it sounds more like an order.

No one says anything.

"Do not believe you will get away with this if you do not speak. I know who it is. I am merely giving you a chance before I drag you off and make your life miserable for the rest of the year."

Again, silence.

"Well then, Mr Nott, come with me," he says, not even looking at the boy.

"Why do you care?" Nott asks.

Severus turns, robes swirling around him. "I beg your pardon? I do believe I heard incorrectly."

Nott lifts his chin defiantly. "I said, why do you care about the runt? You never have before. We could do anything we wanted to him and you never said a word. Why start now? Is it because you turned traitor to the Cause?"

Harry presses his back farther against the wall, wishing it would swallow him up. This is going to end so badly. Not only is he breaking House rules, he is mouthing off. Severus is going to kill him. Slowly and painfully.

Parkinson stands up next. "Traitors to the Cause are not welcome in Slytherin. They are a disgrace to the House and all it stands for."

Others get to their feet and start shouting.

"All Hail the Dark Lord."

"Down with the traitors."

"Evil Slytherins!"

"Death Eater rubbish."

"Go back where you belong!"

"I belong here, you don't."

"Down with the Dark House."

"Down with the Blood Traitors and Mudbloods."

"ENOUGH!" Severus thunders.

The room falls instantly silent. No matter how mad students are, no matter how bloodthirsty or loud, they are trained since first year to obey that voice. No matter the House, one learns to instantly obey Professor Severus Snape when he tells you to do something in that voice.

Harry starts to shake. No, he doesn't start. He had been shaking before this. He started when his cauldron exploded. But now he can't stop. It's getting worse. No. No. Not here. Not now. Not in front of everyone. He is weak enough as it is. But his body doesn't listen to him. His breath speeds up. He has enough mind yet to quietly dash behind Severus' desk. All eyes are on the Professor, so no one notices him. He curls up underneath it and lets go.

When he comes back to himself, someone is stroking his hair. "It's alright now. Everyone is gone. You're safe. You're safe now." Regulus.

He makes a faint noise.

"Back with us?"

He nods, keeping his eyes closed. Bloody hell. He hates panic attacks. He hates being so weak. He thought he was over them by now. He should be. It's been months since the cemetery. He should be over them by now. If only he wasn't so damn weak.

"Do not even start Mr Potter," he tells him, correctly guessing where his thoughts are, "I have told you enough times, panic attacks do not make you weak. They are the body's way of handling stress when it gets to be too much."

Harry nods to show he heard him. He still has trouble believing it though. Finally he sits up, but Regulus puts a hand on his shoulder, forcing him to lean against him. "Not too fast now. Remember what happened last time?"

Oh yes, he remembers. He feels his cheeks heating up at the thought. "What happen?"

"Severus is going to make sure they regret being born. He called Minerva for backup and left them all under the lioness' tender care while he went to the Headmaster. The three of them are sorting it out as we speak."

"Are they still living?" he asks, completely serious.

"Yes, although I imagine some are wishing for death right about now." He sighs, "Whatever were they thinking? Revolt in class? Not a sound strategy at all. Severus is going to have a ball, comparing them to Gryffindors."

That startles a laugh out of him. Yes, he can hear it now.

"Now come," he keeps his arm around Harry, supporting him. Regulus does not lead him back to the dorm, but their private chambers. His Professor herds him into a room and straight into bed. "Sleep now," he commands softly.

Harry closes his eyes and does just that. Too bad it isn't a peaceful one.

.

.

Lay down, below the surface, underneath it all. It is peaceful down there. No one get you.

.

.

Harry wakes with a start, not knowing where he is. He frantically reaches for his glasses. Placing them on his face, he doesn't recognize the room. But then memory returns and he remembers Regulus tucking him in. A faint blush appears on his face, but fortunately, no one is around to see it.

He takes a moment to look around the room. It is in the same light color scheme as his bedroom at Grimmauld Place, although smaller. Still, it's bigger than his room at the Dursleys. It's nice. It calms him. A familiar sight, even if he has never seen this room before. He gets out of bed reluctantly and makes it, smoothing the sheets down.

Walking out the door, he sees the living room where Severus and Regulus are sitting on the couch together. They both look up when he enters.

"Welcome back to the land of the living," Severus greets dryly.

"Feeling better?" Regulus asks.

He nods.

"Good, it is time to eat then. You can hardly afford to miss a meal."

Harry nods again, hoping the faint blush isn't visible. He is still so small, even after the care he was given this summer. There is a strong chance he is always going to be small. He hates it. Everyone always feels the need to comment on it, whether they mean well or not. And they generally don't.

He takes a seat at the table and his two Professors join him. Together they eat in relative silence. He doesn't feel much like talking. His dream plagues him still. His skin crawls at the mere thought of it. He knows he should tell either of the two men about them, but he can't. He can't bring himself to discuss just what his nightmares have turned into. He can barely bear to remember them himself, let alone verbalize them. If he had a choice, he would take his old nightmares back in an instant. Anything is better than this, even his parent's murder.

"You will be staying here tonight," Severus tells him abruptly.

He looks up, surprised.

"Your Housemates will not be in any condition to realize you are missing and I'd rather not have you out of my sight after today. While the initial problem is fixed, there is still repair to be done."

"Yes Sir," he says softly.

Severus sighs. "Potter, what have I told you about setbacks?"

"They are inevitable and not a sign of failure. No one is perfect. These things take time. Even you have had panic attacks," he intones dutifully.

"Very good," he nods in approval. "Draco will be joining us shortly," he then continues, "For the time being, you both will be living in your rooms here."

"That room is mine?" he asks without thinking about it.

Severus snorts. "No Potter, it is the Headmaster's, for when he comes down for tea and biscuits."

"I don't think it's bright enough for the Headmaster. And the colors match," he comments, looking up through his eyelashes as he does.

Regulus laughs and Severus rolls his eyes. Neither are upset. Good. He still isn't sure about joking about these things. He doesn't want to cross a line. It never ends well. He flexes his back in memory. No, they do not.

Severus catches the movement. Of course he does. "Nightmares?" he asks.

Harry nods.

Severus waits for him to continue, but he doesn't. He really doesn't want to talk about it.

The man clears his thought.

"It's about Voldemort," he admits truthfully, but not wholly. Surprisingly Severus doesn't push. Maybe he was expecting that answer. The monster does appear enough in them. Just not like this.

"I want to know if they continue," he informs him.

Good. He has time. "Yes Severus," he says and he even remembered to use his name this time and not 'Sir' or 'Professor'. That is another problem of his. Regulus requested that he use their first names. Not in class of course, but in private. But he has a hard time remembering. And he is not exactly comfortable with it either. Part of him is still wondering when they will get tired of him and abandon him. He is more surprised that it hasn't happen yet, to be honest. What about him is worth keeping around?

Draco walks in shortly after this. "Harry," he greets and makes no mention of his earlier break down. Maybe no one knows about it. Very good. Severus may insist he is not weak for having them, but he is under no illusion that his Housemates will agree.

"Malfoy," he replies.

"You're lucky you missed it earlier. I knew Uncle Severus could be scary, but Professor McGonagall? And the Headmaster. Bloody hell, I think a couple of kids pissed their pants."

"Draco."

"Sorry Uncle Severus. But they did. Who knew the old coot had it in him?"

"Draco."

"You can't blame the boy for that one," Regulus says, "he definitely picked it up from you."

"That does not mean he is allowed to repeat it," Severus says, not even bothering to deny it.

"Whatever you say love," is the dry reply.

Harry covers a small smile. This. This right here is why he can't let the idea of soulmates go. He longs for what his two Professors have. He wants someone who he can snark at without fear. Someone who will accept him and talk to him and support him. He wants someone to look at him like his two Professors look at each other. Love. All he has always wanted is for someone to love him. And with the two men in front of him, he can see how brilliant it can be.

If only that was for him as well. But he is destined to walk alone.

He gets up from his chair. "Good night," he tells the room at large. Time to leave before his heart gets anymore stupid ideas.

.

.

The fears and doubts that plague that day are the nightmares that plague the night.

.

.

"So how is it,"

"Living with the Ultimate Slytherin,"

"And his scary mate,"

"During the school year?"

"Not much different from during the summer honestly. There is the pressure of getting my homework done, but that's never been a problem. After that it's anyone's guess what happens next – read, talk, stare at the fire," he shrugs, "Severus is teaching me wizarding chess."

"That's still weird mate,"

"Hearing you call the Dungeon Bat,"

"By his first name."

Harry lets the name go because he knows the twins don't mean it. Not really. They figured out fairly quickly he doesn't like it when either Severus or Regulus are insulted, despite not knowing how he feels about the men.

"You're lucky,"

"Things are so tense up here,"

"You can cut it with a knife,"

"A dull one."

"None of the Professors are very happy right now,"

"They'll bite anyone's head off anymore."

"More kids have burst out into tears this week,"

"Than the last decade."

"And it isn't even the Slytherin that are responsible,"

"It is everyone else."

"Professor McGonagall is one of the worse."

"Professor Flitwick is brutal,"

"Who knew he had it in him,"

"We can't even get him to laugh anymore,"

"And he secretly loves us."

"He even snapped at Luna the other day."

"That is, until he found out why she was wondering the halls,"

"Looking for her robes,"

"And then the Ravenclaws faced the fury of a Dueling Champion."

"The Nargles won't be troubling her anymore for a while."

"Now if only he could get rid of Jackalburs that easily," Harry mutters.

"Still having trouble little brother?"

"Just the usual."

They give him a look. "Alright, so a little more. But it's nothing I can't handle."

George snorts. "Please remember, brother dear,"

"We still remember when you thought you could handle a basilisk by yourself,"

"That argument will get you nowhere."

"I was fine," he protests.

"A basilisk bit you,"

"If it wasn't for Fawkes, you would be dead."

"Try again."

He sighs, knowing they won't let it go. "It's... Draco," he admits, fiddling with his bracelets.

"Is that little brat giving you trouble?"

"No. He's been nothing but nice since the summer. Well," he pauses, "Alright, so that's not exactly true. He's no angel. But he's been decent at least. And he always makes a point to talk to me now."

The twins exchange a look. "And you want to know why?"

He nods. "It's... probably not a prank, but..." he trails off.

"But it took you three years to trust us and sometimes it is still a work in progress," Fred finishes.

He doesn't deny it.

"Do you know why the change of heart?"

"I suspect it has to do with that conversation I told you about. And, well," he takes a deep breath and removes one of his bracelets. He has never told the twins what his names were. They never brought up soulmates or rivals.

"Oh," they say as one.

He nods.

"And you're sure it's Malfoy?"

He shows them his other wrist. "Both Severus and Regulus insist it is not Voldemort."

"And Malfoy's wrist?"

"Only my name."

They nod.

"He knows?"

"Yeah, I told him."

"And you can't decide what to do next."

"I'm so tired," he admits softly.

In an instant, he is surrounded by Gryffindor as they hug him tightly. He takes comfort in their warmth. They are the only ones who really touch him besides Regulus and rarely Luna and Severus. He isn't comfortable with anyone else. Touch means pain. That is the way it has always been. Nothing good came from touch, be it in the Muggle world or Wizarding. But now, that isn't always true. He relishes the difference when he can.

"You are strong little brother,"

"You can do it."

"And if you ever need anyone to carry you,"

"We will," they reassure him.

"Thanks," he whispers so softly he isn't sure they can hear him.

But of course they do. "Anything for you little brother."

.

.

Always keep someone around you trust, to lean on when you need to. A true friend will carry you when you can't move by yourself.

.

.

Harry looks away as a newly resurrected Voldemort steps out from the cauldron. A shiver runs up his spine. This is it. This is where he dies. Finally. Finally he is going to die. It is going to be over. The pain is going to end. Yes.

Voldemort turns and looks at him, eyes crimson red, skin pale and stark white, hair gone and nose missing. He has the image of evil Dark Lord down perfectly. Death Eaters arrive all around him, their white masks stand out in the shadows of the cloudy day.

He turns towards them. "Show me your faces, my faithful," he commands.

As one, they remove their masks. He looks at their faces, not wanting to look at the monster in front of him. Just because he wants to die, doesn't mean he has to stare it in the face. Death will come no matter where he is looking. But then he sees two familiar faces and his breath catches. No.

Both Severus and Regulus look at him and sneer, faces twisted with hate and disgust.

No.

"I see you have realized your Professors true alliance," Voldemort hisses at him, "devastating, isn't it, to be betrayed by those we trust?"

Harry struggles in his bonds, but it is no use. No, it can't be. They promised to be there for him.

"Yes, it is terrible. But that is what you get, for believing someone could actually care for you."

No. No, they promised... they promised to be his family.

"Come now," Voldemort says, "It's not all so terrible," he caresses his cheek. Harry turns away. "Yes, not terrible at all. My younger self told me how delicious you are. How sensitive. How you begged for it," he leans closer, mere centimeters away, "How you declared yourself his. Mine. And I take care of what is mine."

His hand moves down his face, past his throat and chest, pausing at his nipples, straight to his trousers. He rubs the front of them roughly.

"No," Harry gasps at the unwelcome feeling.

"No? Well that won't do." He strips his clothes off of him, vanishing them with a wave of his wand. He is exposed.

Voldemort takes his soft cock in his hand and begins to massage it. It hardens. Harry whimpers, both in pleasure and in fear. At least with Riddle, he was gentle. Caring, almost. Now, with Voldemort, it is only possessiveness with none of the gentleness.

But then the hand strays down his cock, past his bollocks, to his entrance. "It is a pity that my younger self never got the chance to appreciate this delicious part of you. But we can remedy that, can't we?" He pushes a finger in.

Harry begins screaming. "No! No, don't touch me! Don't touch me you monster!" He thrashes uselessly against the ropes.

"Monster? Is that any reason to talk to your soulmate?" He adds another finger.

"No!" he screams and bolts out of the bed, straight to the loo where he sicks up violently. He is trembling so badly that he can barely hold onto the rim. He can't get the memory of the touch to go away. He wants to wash it off, desperately, but he knows he can't stand up right now. He gives another violent, dry heave.

And then there are hands holding him up, but he jerks away. "Don't touch me," he says as he curls into a shaking ball, "Don't touch me!"

"Shh, it's alright, it's alright. No one is going to touch you. No one is going to hurt you. We will protect you."

He looks up into the worried eyes of Regulus. A face full of hate flashes through his mind and he looks away, flinching. "No," he whimpers, "no."

He misses the look his two Professors exchange before Severus tries. "Come on brat, come back to us. Nothing is going to happen to you."

Harry curls into himself farther.

"Merlin balls, Harry, what is it?" Draco. His mind latches onto the name. Draco. Draco is his soulmate, not Voldemort. Not Tom Riddle. Draco Malfoy. That is the only thing he can think right now. Unthinkingly, he launches himself at the blonde and holds on tightly.

He feels the blonde start, but wraps his arms around him. Harry buries his face in his neck. "He tried again," he whispers.

"What?" he can tell, barely, that Draco is confused, "Who tried what again? What is going on?"

"Get him to the couch Draco," someone orders.

"Alright, come on Harry. It'll be more comfortable on the couch," he moves.

"Don't leave me," he begs.

"I'm not. You're coming with me."

It takes some time, but eventually Draco sits on the couch. Harry is instantly at his side, curled in as close as possible. "Here, drink this," something is pressed to his lips and he drinks. It takes a few moments, but he can feel the blinding panic recede. Calming draught. He can think again. But not enough to let go of Draco. Just enough to wonder why in Merlin's name he thinks Draco is safer than Severus or Regulus, nightmare or no.

"With us again brat?" and speaking of Severus.

He nods.

"Excellent. Do you believe you can release Mr Malfoy now?"

He shakes his head.

"Not even if he will be a part of this conversation if you do not?"

Again he shakes his head.

"A verbal answer is required."

"I... I can't," he admits quietly.

"And why is that?"

"Soulmate, safe," he shrugs, not caring if it doesn't make sense, not even to himself.

But all Severus does is sigh. "Dare I ask what nightmare brought that response on?"

Harry doesn't answer.

"That was not a request."

"Voldemort."

"That is not sufficient. None of your other nightmares resulted in you believing Draco was your soulmate, Voldemort or no. In fact, I recall having to reassure you of the opposite. Why now?"

"He keeps trying to..." he can't. He can't possible tell them.

"Shall I guess what he is trying to do?" Severus asks, but it is in a dry tone, as if he knows the answer and is waiting to see if you will say it instead.

He shudders.

"I do believe that is enough to give anyone nightmares," he agrees.

"Uncle Sev?" Draco asks and it is a sign of how serious things are that Severus doesn't correct him, "what is going on?"

"It appears that Mr Potter's mind has decided to conjure a new horror for him to witness in his sleep. One that I would not wish on anyone, not even a Gryffindor."

"Uncle Sev..."

"He keeps saying I am his. He takes care of what is his," he finally tells them.

Severus sighs. "Child, you will be the death of me."

In a flash, Harry moves from Draco to his Professor, clinging tightly. At first Severus is stiff, but slowly he relaxes enough to return the desperate hug. "Do not expect this to become a habit," he warns.

"Yes Sir," he answers, not moving.

"Death," he repeats.

"Please tell me Harry did not mean what I think he did," Draco begs.

He is ignored. "Has he penetrated at any point?"

"This time. Finger."

Severus' grip tightens. "And the others?"

"Hand jobs mostly, if he got that far. Kissing. Licking. Biting. Riddle was... nice. Voldemort wasn't." He has to force the words out. It is almost physically painful to do so. This is the last thing he wants to do, but he knows he has no choice. And Severus won't judge him. He never has.

"Riddle was..." he pauses, "I liked it," he starts again, "I... I..." he can't get the words out and begins to sob instead. The man doesn't say anything.

Unless this is the breaking point, that is.

Then, "A natural reaction. Just a natural reaction. The mind does not have to consent for the body to react."

Draco makes a strangled sound. He didn't think the boy could hear, but he must have caught that last bit. He sounds horrified. Merlin, he is disgusting.

"Come Draco," Regulus tells him, "Time for a potion yourself."

Regulus leads the blonde out of the room. They are alone.

"I take it this is a reoccurring nightmare?"

"Yes Sir."

"And I do not need to ask why you did not inform me of such."

He shakes his head.

"Is rape recovery now going to be a needed topic to cover?"

Harry flinches at the word, but shrugs. "The nightmares... are bad. But I don't feel... violated most of the time. I don't avoid other people or fear being touched. Sex..." he trails off, blushing.

"Yes?"

"I'm not sure. That may be a problem, but that's not a... priority of mine right now."

Severus snorts. "I am glad we do not have two teenage boys driven by hormones at least. Now, do you believe you can detach yourself from me?"

"Sorry Sir."

"That was not the question."

He hides his head in Severus' shoulder.

"Oh brat of mine," he mutters, "what a life you lead." He runs a hand through Harry's hair, just the way he likes it.

"Sorry," he repeats.

"Go to sleep," he says sternly, "One of us has classes tomorrow."

He flinches. His Professor should not have to put up with this. He is being nothing but a burden right now. He needs to stop being a baby and suck it up. So what if he has nightmares? Big deal. It never was before. The only thing he had to do was be quiet. He shouldn't wake decent people up with his problems. Pathetic. Why would they want him? Nothing but a useless burden. A worthless Freak. Who would want him?

"As if I have not run on less. Sleep."

Harry does.

The nightmares do not return.

.

.

No light in your bright eyes. They are dead from the inside out. My, but isn't life dangerous?

.

.

Draco is careful around him after that. It as if, now that he knows about Harry's nightmares, he thinks he will break at a touch. It is infuriating. He is not a fragile doll, no matter how fucked up his nightmares are.

Well, he is careful around him until he throws a book at his head. Then he gets the message.

And a lump when he didn't duck in time.

.

.

Rage on against the dying light.

.

.

The year passes. Tensions eventually ease some, much to everyone's relief. Actually, that might be why it eases. Everyone is tired of it. Not to say it vanishes completely, but it decrease to a more tolerable level. Curses may be fired, but blood will not be spilled.

So, an average day at Hogwarts.

Draco continues to stay close to Harry. It has only gotten worse since that night. After the book incident, he isn't overbearing about it. He never even brings it up. But he is still close. Still there.

He still doesn't know what it means. It is as if he wants to prove himself. But why? Why would he want to prove himself to a Freak like Harry? It makes no sense. He can't honestly believe they are soulmates. He has spent the past four years convinced otherwise. What happen to make him change his mind?

Why?

But he studies with him and forces him to go flying with him. He offers protection in the common room. And Merlin, didn't that cause a stir. He still isn't back to being the Ice Prince of Slytherin, but after a few of their Housemates were suspended and some upper Housemates were expelled, his status is much higher now. No one is stupid enough to try and attack him after the first time. The sixth year was in the Hospital wing for a week.

Christmas is spent at Hogwarts again, as neither Severus nor Regulus trust the current behavior to continue with their absence. Harry doesn't mind. He has spent all of his Christmases here at school. At least this year, he will have someone to spend it with. If they want him, that is. He knows this is a family holiday. And he isn't a part of the family. Not really.

When Severus realizes his doubts, his ears ring for hours afterwards. That man and his lectures. Vicious.

So are the sessions after he finds out about the newest nightmares. He shudders just to think about them. Brutal. But they are decreasing now, fortunately. Other, usual, nightmares are starting again and Harry has never felt more relief to see his Mum murdered than he did that first night. Merlin does he have issues.

Christmas day is spent with Draco, Regulus and Severus in the morning and the twins and Luna during the evening. The plan was to have supper at the Burrow, but that was beyond awkward. The rest of the Weasleys still don't know what to make of him.

So the twins whisk him away to Luna's house, since she lives close by. Harry meets her Father and finds out where Luna gets it from. Xenophilius Lovegood is a very... interesting man.

But then things come to a head, one day not long afterwards. The two of them are wandering the halls together. Or, more like, Harry is wandering the halls and Draco decided to come with him. Why? Who the bloody hell knows. He doesn't and e is sick of it. He turns and demands "Why?"

Draco blinks at him. "Why what? Merlin Harry, do you ever make any sense?"

"This," he gestures between them with his hand, "All of this. You spent years making my life hell. And now all of a sudden you are being nice to me. Why?!"

Draco looks at him and then sighs. "Because I realized what a self entitled brat I was."

Harry crosses his arms. "And?"

"And I wanted to make it up to you."

"And?"

"And I figured this was the best way. You take actions over words better."

"And?"

"And what?"

"I want your real reason. Not some made up rubbish."

"That is my real reason," Draco says, indignant.

"Really? It has nothing to do with the names on my wrist?"

He blushes.

Harry nods. That's what he thought. "And?" he asks again.

"And I've always liked you. I know-" he says when Harry goes to interrupts, "Believe me, I know how messed up that is. I know that is completely the wrong response. But I was eleven and spoiled and hurt. I spent my entire life hearing stories about the Boy-Who-Lived and how he saved us all. He was the hero of the Wizarding World. And I had his name on my wrist. Father wasn't happy about it. He was convinced I was your enemy, not your soulmate. But I hoped I was," he sighs.

"But then I met you and everything went wrong. You weren't what I was expecting. And Father... well, needless to say he wasn't happy with me when I tried to show you friendship. Plus I was insanely jealous of you. I know, I know," he waves off Harry's nonexistent protests, "it isn't an excuse. You're right. It isn't. But we all have to grow up some time. And I decided to make it up to you. Maybe convince you to give me a chance. No matter how long it takes. And believe me," he looks at Harry dead in the eye, "I know just how long it can take. The twins talked to me."

Harry stares at him, taking it all in. Well he has one thing right, winning his trust is a vicious battle that takes years to win. And he does have an explanation without hiding behind it as an excuse. He isn't acting entitled about it either. Wonder upon wonders, Draco Malfoy is growing up.

But that doesn't answer everything. "Why?" he asks again.

"What this time?"

He rolls his eyes. "Why do you want me? And don't say because we are soulmates. For one thing you don't know for sure. And for another, that is a rubbish reason."

"Because I like you," he says simply.

Harry laughs a bitter laugh. "You like me? Merlin, what are you on? It must be something good."

Draco blinks and then sighs. "I do. I think you are smart and sarcastic. You are picking up Severus' dry sense of humor. Or maybe you already had it and it is just now coming out. I think you are funny and loyal. You're damn stubborn, but that's part of your charm. And you are beautiful."

Harry snorts. "I could almost believe you, until that last one. Beautiful? Are you sure you aren't the one who needs glasses?"

"You are," he insists.

"You know nothing has changed since I first told you my names last summer. I am still the Freak. I always will be. There is nothing worthwhile about me and there never will be. No one wants a Freak, not for long."

"What about the twins?"

"They are too stubborn for their own good."

"Lovegood?"

He shrugs. "Luna is Luna. Nothing she does makes any sense."

"Uncle Severus and Uncle Regulus?"

He sighs. "I'm still waiting for them to figure that out."

"And you don't trust me at all."

"Don't take it personally, I don't trust anyone."

Draco's expression turns mulish. "Come with me," he says.

Harry considers not following, but Draco grabs his wrist before he does. At that point it is easier to go along with him. What's the worse that can happen? Well, many things technically, but Harry isn't overly worried about those. This is either going to be the end of the prank or the beginning of something. He just isn't sure which.

He leads him to a portrait and says, "Apple trees." It swings open. Inside is the Prefects loo. "Blaise gave me the password," he says.

Harry nods. Zabini was their new Prefect after the mess at the beginning of the year. "Why are we here?"

"I thought that would be obvious. We are here to take a bath." He turns and readies the water.

A bath?! What the hell? What makes Draco think this is a good idea? What is he trying to prove?

"Strip," he commands.

Harry crosses his arms. "No."

Draco sighs as if this is a trial to endure. "You don't believe me when I say I think you are beautiful. So I am going to prove it. But I need you naked."

"And I suppose you are just going to stand there?"

Draco takes off his shirt in response. Harry takes a moment to appreciate the view. A pale chest, lean muscles, flawless skin. Clearly Draco is the beautiful one here. He walks over and places his hands on Harry's shoulders. "I want to bathe you," he says softly, "I want the chance to show you what you are worth. I am not trying to mock you. I am not trying anything sexual. I want to show you I am serious. Will you let me?"

Harry should say no. He really should. This is only going to end in misery. There is nothing valuable about him. Nor is there anything beautiful. He is covered in scars.

"Please?" he asks and that is what does it. He has never heard Draco use that word before.

He nods.

Draco carefully unbuttons his shirt, letting it drop when he is done. He then takes off his own trousers so he is standing there naked. Yes, Draco is most definitely the beautiful one here. Next he unbuttons Harry's trousers and looks at Harry again. He nods his permission and Draco slides his trouser and pants down in one go.

When he is standing there, fully naked, Draco takes a long look. He brushes a hand along his ribs, along the dragon fire burns, almost reverently. "Gorgeous," he breathes.

Harry has to fight not to roll his eyes.

Draco leads him into the tub and sits behind him. He takes a soft flannel and begins to wash Harry, still with that same reverent touch. "You are even more beautiful than I imagined."

"I am covered in scars."

"You bear badges of survival."

He snorts.

"You do. They show strength, No one has been able to kill you yet. They knock you down and you will get right back up. Amazing," he kisses his shoulder.

Harry has to admit this feels good. No, more than good. To echo Draco, this feels amazing. No one has ever paid this much attention to his body before. It feels as if Draco is practically worshiping him. He continues to place soft kisses on his back and shoulders. He runs the flannel thoroughly over each part of his body.

He can't help the groan that escapes his throat. He blushes.

"It's fine," Draco tells him, "I'm glad to know I am doing a good job. But remember, I will not do anything without permission. Anything."

Harry nods his understanding. But by the time Draco has moved and is finishing the front of him, he is hard and breathing heavily. He has never been so turned on outside one of those damn nightmares of his.

"Do you want me to do something about it?" he asks seriously.

"Please," he answers desperately.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," he hisses.

Draco nods and moves closer. "May I kiss you?"

Harry nods.

Draco does. It is a firm kiss. Not too gentle, but not too controlling either. Their noses bump and Draco tilts his head to the side more. He bites Harry's lower lip softly and Harry gasps. Merlin does this feel good. Better than any dream, that is for sure.

But then Draco lowers his hand and begins to stroke his shaft. His mind flashes to Riddle doing the same thing, in this same position. Harry jerks back.

Draco backs off instantly. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he shakes his head.

"No," he says firmly, "don't you dare lie to me. Not about this. Tell me the truth," he demands.

"It's nothing," he insists, "just a flashback from those Merlin cursed nightmares."

Draco nods. "And what set it off?"

"Our position combined with your hand."

He looks thoughtful. "So hand jobs are a problem?"

"No. You just took me by surprise. I don't want to stop."

"Are you sure?"

"I won't let him win."

Draco nods again. "Alright, up on the ledge," he says, "time for a new position."

Harry obeys and Draco kneels in front of him. No, he can't be doing what Harry thinks he is doing. "What-" he starts to ask, but is cut off when Draco takes his head into his mouth and gently sucks.

"Merlin," Harry curses.

Draco spends a few minutes laving attention just on the head before lowering his mouth farther. Harry curses again at the wet heat surrounding him. This is certainly a new experience. No danger of a flashback now. Draco's nose touches his pubic hair and his cock is in Draco's throat. His hands latch onto the blonde's hair, although he is careful not to pull.

It feels so good. His throat flutters around him before he pulls back up for air. Then he goes down again. He runs his tongue along the sensitive vein and Harry's hips jerk. Draco coughs and pulls up.

"Sorry," he gasps, "shit, so bloody good, sorry."

Draco removes his mouth completely and moves down to his bollocks. He licks across them before taking one in his mouth. Harry give another involuntary jerk. He moves off and starts on the other. Once he thinks they have had enough attention, he goes back to his cock, licking it before swallowing it again. He takes a few seconds to adjust and then deep throats it again.

He continues this pattern until Harry is a babbling mess. Draco gives him just enough pressure to come close, but never enough to bring him over the edge.

"Please, please Dra- oh! Yessssss, yessss, oh plea- I wan, oh, I need to, damn, shit, oh!" he begs incoherently. Then Draco deep throats him one last time and hums. It is enough. Harry thrusts his hips violently and comes down Draco's throat. He swallows it all. Somehow. That has to be a skill by itself right there.

Both of them are panting when he pulls off. He rests his head of Harry's thigh. Harry gently pets his head while they catch their breath. "Good?" he asks, voice hoarse.

Harry laughs. "Bloody hell," he answers. He can feel Draco's grin. "Do you?" he gestures with his hand vaguely.

"No, I'm good," he reassures him.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Bloody hell.

"Believe me now?"

"Ask me again when my brain isn't mush."

"I could be waiting for eternity then," he teases.

"Prat," Harry answers.

.

.

Scars show us where we have been. They don't tell us where we are going.

.

.

"Allow me the chance to be the soulmate you deserve. The one I know you deserve because I know you think you don't deserve anything. But you're wrong. You do deserve it. You deserve this and so much more. I'm not asking for an eternal promise or anything. I know this is going to take work and effort. But I think it is worth it. So please, will you give me that chance?"

Harry does.

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Though hope is frail, it's hard to kill.

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The rest of the year after break goes by quickly. After Harry agreed to give Draco a chance, he was around even more. He learned to get along with the twins and formed a surprisingly close friendship with Luna. They weren't necessarily in a relationship. Not a romantic one at least. There wasn't any of the usual couple things, like hand holding or kissing. But Draco was trying and that's what mattered.

Not that it was easy, but neither of them were expecting that. It is a start, that's all. Just a start, but what a big step that represents.

And then the Headmaster calls Harry into his office and unbalanced everything again.

"Hello Headmaster," he greets cautiously. He has not spoken to the man since that last disastrous conversation last year. Fawkes trills his own greeting and he smiles at the phoenix.

"Hello my boy, come in, come in. Lemon drop?"

And he is still calling him 'my boy'. Honestly why? It isn't reassuring, it is creepy. He is not the Headmaster's boy. Didn't they already establish that? Or was that in his head? "No thank you Sir."

"Very well then, although I do believe you don't know what you are missing. How has your school year been treating you?"

"Fine Sir."

"No problems?"

"No." Or none that he would ever come to the Headmaster about.

"Good, good. I'm so glad to hear it my boy. Now about why I called you in here today. I am concerned about your summer plans."

"Sir?"

"You do realize you have to return to the Dursleys, correct?"

What?

"They are your legal guardians. Last summer I can admit it wouldn't have been wise to spend you back. But now that you are doing better, I am afraid I must insist."

Harry starts to shake. He can already feel another panic attack coming on by the second. Return to the Dursleys? Now, after a year away from them? No. No, he can't. He won't survive. He won't. Fawkes flies over to his shoulder, but it doesn't make a difference. He can't go back. He can't.

But what does make a difference is Regulus and Severus entering the office, both looking furious. They take one look at Harry and turn towards the Headmaster.

"What is the meaning of this?" Regulus growls.

Severus pulls him to his side, running a hand through his hair. Harry leans into the touch, but it isn't enough. Not this time. Not right now.

"I simply informed him that he has to return to the Dursleys. They are his legal guardians after all. However, if he were to find new guardians, then he would be welcome to stay with them," he tells them, eyes twinkling.

"Damn you Albus and your manipulations," Severus snarls, "Does this look like a good idea to you?"

Fawkes trills.

"Even the damn fried chicken agrees with me!"

"Those are the rules, my boy."

"Don't you dare 'my boy' me Headmaster. Not after all you have done. It is your fault he was placed there to begin with."

"And it kept him safe."

Severus snorts. "From those outside the house. But tell me, what protected him from those within? Nothing, that's what. And you want to send him back?" His grip is bruising, but Harry doesn't mind. It helps keep him centered.

"I'll do it," he says.

"What?"

"I accept the adoption."

"No."

His heart sinks. Oh, he should have realized they would change their minds after all. Stupid stupid, stup-

"I refuse to let you make that decision because the old coot decided to meddle again. This is not a choice to be made lightly. Which is why we are giving him time to think about it." he snaps pointedly at the Headmaster.

"Surely the boy has had enough time already. It has been a year."

"What part of trust issues do you not understand old man? Rome wasn't built in a year and nor was trust regained. Time. These things take time."

"I am sorry my boy, but a decision must be made before he leaves for the summer. It cannot be put off any longer."

"I'll do it," he repeats again. Anything is better than the Dursleys.

"Are you sure?" Regulus asks, "We may be forced into this," and here he glares at the Headmaster, "but we can become your legal guardians instead."

He shakes his head.

"Adoption cannot be undone. We can do the paperwork for the guardianship now and the adoption later, if you want it still."

"No, adoption," he insists.

"And why is that?"

"Legal guardians can be undone. If we do that, you can be taken away. I don't want to lose you."

"And who would take us away?"

He points at the Headmaster. "Him. He keeps trying to control me and he might change his mind and take you away from me. But if you adopt me, he can't. He can't undo it. You'll be my parents. Mine." He looks over at the Headmaster. His facial expression will be one the he will remember forever.

Too bad he feels no pity for him. The old wizard has brought it onto himself.

.

.

Expect the unexpected, especially when meddlers get involved.

.

.

And that is how Harry James Potter became Harry James Regulus Potter-Black-Snape. It is a mouthful, but traditional. Or that's what he's told when he complains about it. The best part about the ceremony is the extra height he gained from the blood adoption potion.

The school was shocked when the announcement was made, but Harry didn't care. He still had his doubts of course, but he stuck by what he thought. Anything was better than the Dursleys. When it came to Regulus and Severus that it. He is aware things could be much, much worse.

The twins graduated with a bang of course. None of the Professors were very impressed, the Headmaster least of all. Harry appreciated the gesture. None of his friends were happy with the way the wizard handled the adoption. They promised to show him their new shop once they bought it. They already had the building picked out.

Luna was going with her Father to Sweden to look for the Crumple-Horned Snorkack. He wished her luck. She promised to bring one back for him.

Draco was yet again spending the summer with them. Narcissa was still in France. It was doubtful she would ever come back at this point.

And Harry, well.

"Come on brat, let's go home."

Harry was beginning to hope.

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Always remember, and never forget, it is always darkest before the dawn.