A/N: Thank you again for so many wonderful, wonderful reviews. The author's cup is definitely overflowing. Thank you.
So many good questions were posed after the last chapter. Let me answer a few. Yes, the Malfoys will discover the abuse, but please remember that human beings are flawed, flawed creatures. Severus makes his appearance in the next chapter. There will likely be about seven or eight chapters with the boys being little, then a fast forward to them at fifteen. If you have specific questions or a burning desire to know something, always feel free to email me at Thanks!
A special thanks to Sansa who is a selfless beta and wonderful friend. Good lord, she catches all of my awful little mistakes! She deserves lots and lots of chocolate.
Pesky legal disclaimer: The wonderful world of Harry Potter belongs to J.K.R., her assigns, agents, licensees and all others to whom she grants her wonderful dispensation. Sadly, I am not on that list, nor do ever expect to be. I write this purely for fun and guilty pleasure and make no money from this.
CHAPTER 4: IF YOU LEAD, I SHALL FOLLOW
"I think they're on the move," Draco whispered. He crouched low to the ground, his eyes trained on two of Mrs. Figg's cats.
Behind him, Harry copied his stance and put a hand over his mouth to keep from laughing as the two cats flopped over into a beam of sunlight, ready to take yet another nap. They had been following Mrs. Figg's cats around for the last two hours because Draco was sure that they would lead them to where Mrs. Figg was keeping her secrets. So far, the only thing the cats had done was take naps in various sunbeam laden patches of grass. Harry sighed as Draco sat, fully prepared to wait for the cats to lead them. Harry wasn't keen on this particular game. But, Draco liked it and that was enough for Harry.
It had been almost three months since Harry had met Draco. In that time, Harry's life had changed dramatically in many ways, but remained horrifyingly the same in others. He'd been "sick" a few more times. Draco never asked questions and Harry never volunteered information. Draco hadn't been permitted to visit and the Malfoys hadn't come to dinner again, either. Harry never saw the brightly wrapped package from the Malfoys but made a point to thank them both the next time he saw them—spinning his own tales at games he'd played and pictures he'd drawn with the soap crayons.
Nevertheless, Harry had been able to spend most of his free time with the Malfoys. There had been many more tents, chocolate pancake breakfasts, fairy forts and stories. Harry sometimes dreamed that he lived with Draco and Mrs. Malfoy—that they were his family. That he belonged to them instead of the Dursleys.
"Are you ready for school?" Draco asked, while continuing to stare at the lazy cats.
"Huh? Oh. Er, yeah. Do you think we'll be in the same class?"
Draco shrugged, still not taking his eyes off the two cats. "Should be. It's a small school. It's why Mum moved here—I don't have to board and she likes the teachers."
Harry nodded. He was nervous about school starting—he'd never had a good experience at school. Dudley had always ruined it for him. And, surely Draco had more friends than just Harry. Would school make things different? Would Draco want to be friends any more? He bit his lip and looked down at his hands. "How come you don't play with other kids," he said softly. He'd wondered this all summer. Now seemed like the right time to ask.
Draco turned his startled gaze to Harry, missing the fact that the cats were stirring—the likely beginnings of their inevitable move to yet another sun-warmed patch of grass. "What?" he said. "Why would I want to play with other kids when I have you? Besides, my other friends don't like to play the things we do."
Harry blushed and looked down further. He felt awkward all of a sudden. "It's just that, I mean, there'll be loads of other kids at school, I suspect. I just figured you had a lot of friends."
Draco was silent for a moment. "Yeah, so. I like playing with you, though. I'll play with them at school."
Harry nodded, still biting his lip, telling himself that he hadn't winced when Draco talked about playing with other kids at school. The prospect of going back to school dimmed.
"Dudley's not in our year, is he?" Draco asked.
"No. He's year five."
"Too bad."
"What?" Harry asked, panicked. "Why?" he asked, as the idea of school with Draco and Dudley became dimmer still.
Draco swiveled his head around and gave Harry a curious look. "We won't be able to play as many pranks on him."
Harry looked down. "I don't much like playing pranks," he said, remembering all of the horrible ones Dudley and his merry band of heathens had played on him.
Draco grinned. "That's just because you haven't played any of them with me! Besides, it's not like he'd be able to catch us. Can you imagine? The whale running after us," Draco said with a snort and a wicked gleam in his eyes.
Despite himself, Harry couldn't stop the smile that spread across his face. He felt a surge of kinship with Draco in that moment. Harry wished again that he lived with the Malfoys, that they were his family.
"They're on the move!" Draco announced in a loud whisper.
Harry did laugh then as he and Draco resumed their stealthy crouch and followed Mrs. Figg's cats to their next napping spot.
"Boy!" Aunt Petunia snapped from the foot of the stairs. "I'll not wait another moment for you," she said as she walked out the door, Dudley trailing behind her.
It was the first day of school and Harry was trying, in vain, to make his hair lay flat and his jumper and pants seem less ill-fitting. Exasperated, he threw down the comb and dashed down the stairs, grabbing his little knapsack along the way. "Coming!" he yelled as he trotted out the door and ran for the car that was creeping out of the drive. He tumbled into the back seat just before Petunia pulled out. Still sprawled in the backseat and trying to get his bearings, Harry knocked into Dudley on a sharp turn.
Dudley made a sound of disgust as he pushed Harry away from him. "Why can't he walk?" he demanded.
"It's too far," Petunia snarled.
Harry didn't make a sound. He was not looking forward to school. He'd never had a good experience. Dudley had always seen to that. He looked at his uniform and compared it to Dudley's brand new one. He tugged self-consciously at the frayed hems of his sleeves and pretended not to notice how shabby his faded, worn trousers looked next to Dudley's crisp, new ones. Dudley always took delight in making fun of Harry's hair, his clothes, anything about him that set him apart from others. Anything that gave others an excuse to shun him. It didn't matter that they weren't in the same year. Not to Dudley Dursley.
"We're here," Petunia announced, pulling in front of the impressive gray stone building. The Bennington-Bright school was a parents' dream—no tuition, no boarding, wonderful teachers, small classes and it served all grades, even sixth form.
After getting out of the car, Harry stood back and scanned the grounds looking for Draco as his aunt cooed and doted on Dudley. Dudley sighed, rolled his eyes and pushed her away before lumbering off to find his class. She turned sharply to Harry, her beady eyes narrowed, her lips twisted. Harry almost took another step back. "You listen to me," she hissed. "You'll not cause Dudley any problems if you know what's good for you."
Harry nodded. They went through this every year. He knew the rules. And, more importantly, he knew that the rules didn't really matter. He'd be punished regardless.
Petunia pulled out a folded sheet from her purse. "Give this to the school nurse."
Harry took the note and nodded again, knowing that it spun some tale of sad, little, sickly Harry who undoubtedly would be required to miss loads of school due to his frequent, short illnesses. He sighed. At this rate, he'd never be allowed to play outside. The schools were always concerned he'd overexert himself and get sick and that Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon would sue. Harry nearly snorted at the thought. They'd probably dance in the living room—something forbidden in the Dursley household—if some fatal injury befell Harry during a school sport mishap.
A bell sounded in the distance. Harry started off, still looking for Draco. There was no cooing or hugging for Harry from Petunia. Only a sharp shove and a muttered, "Daft boy," before she got back into the car and sped away.
Harry made his way to the school nurse, a soft, plump woman by the name of Poppy Pomfrey, or Miss Poppy as she'd asked Harry to call her. She read Petunia's note over several times, looking at Harry critically every few minutes. Harry stood there, bearing the scrutiny without comment.
"What do you have? Do the doctors know?" Miss Poppy asked in a professionally clipped tone.
Harry shook his head. "I've always gotten sick," he murmured. "Sup—suppressed im-gen-uity, or something," Harry said, trying to remember the words Aunt Petunia often used.
"Suppressed immune system, I think you mean," Miss Poppy chuckled as she continued to scan the note.
"Not surprising, really," she said after laying the note down and gesturing for Harry to sit on her examination table. "You're thin as a rail and quite short for your age. Quite a delicate little thing, aren't you," she murmured as she checked his pulse and made him take deep breaths while listening with her stethoscope.
Harry scowled at the notion that he was delicate. Miss Poppy had no idea the kind of work he did in the Dursleys' garden and that he was nearly starved most days.
"Oh, I don't mean anything by it, dearie," Miss Poppy said with a short bark of laughter and a ruffle to Harry's disobedient hair.
Harry sighed and tried once again to flatten his hair while Miss Poppy continued to chat.
"I just mean that we'll need to make sure that you're careful. No sports for you, lad," she said as she turned away and scribbled something in a bright yellow folder marked "Harry Potter." Harry noticed there was a bright orange sticker on the front of it as well.
"Any allergies?"
Harry looked at her blankly for a moment before shaking his head "no." He had no idea if he had any allergies, but "no" seemed to be the best answer. Less questions that way.
"That's surprising," Miss Poppy said as she turned again and made more scribbled notes in Harry's bright yellow file.
"Come on then, off to class. I'll need to speak to your teacher," Miss Poppy said, helping Harry down from the table.
It was a short walk to his class, but every step was a struggle. Harry doubted he'd be able to slip in unnoticed. Classes had already started, which meant he'd be standing there while all of the other kids in his class stared at him, made judgments about him. All too soon, he and Miss Poppy were standing at the door to Mrs. Lopp's year four class. Mrs. Lopp was a kind-faced woman. She was small, open, soft-spoken, and fond of bright colors and, as Harry soon learned, exclamatory phrases.
"Mrs. Lopp," Miss Poppy began. "I've brought you your newest student, Mr. Harry Potter. I'd like to have a word with you for a moment, if I may."
"Why of course, Madam Pomfrey," Mrs. Lopp said to Miss Poppy before turning her attention to Harry. She gave him a warm smile. "Welcome, Harry. Excellent to meet you! Come inside. We'll get you sorted out in just a moment."
Harry nodded and crept into the room, stopping just to the right of the door. As predicted, twenty pairs of eyes looked up at him and stared. Harry's gaze shot to the floor, a horrible blush sped across his cheeks. He could feel them staring. He heard the faint stirring of whispers. He tugged at his sleeves and pulled his knapsack closer to him. He was sure that the other students were sneering at him, making fun of him. He hazarded a quick look up and saw Draco sitting in the center of the room, surrounded by his friends. But, at that moment, Draco wasn't paying any attention to them. He was waving wildly at Harry and grinning ear to ear. Harry felt a curious weight lift from him. He smiled at Draco, relieved to finally have seen his friend, before returning his gaze to the floor. After what felt like an eternity, Mrs. Lopp escorted Miss Poppy from the classroom and introduced Harry.
"Now class, we have a new student. This is Harry Potter. This is his first year at Bennington-Bright and I'm sure all of you will do your best to make him feel comfortable."
"Yes, Mrs. Lopp," the class intoned together.
"Splendid!" Mrs. Lopp said to the class with a beaming smile. "Harry, why don't you find a seat. You can look on with a neighbor until I can get your books for you."
"Yes, ma'am," Harry murmured, his gaze darting about for a seat. The only open seat was all the way on the left side of the classroom—a dreadfully long way from Draco. Disheartened, Harry trudged to his new seat.
"You can look on with me," a soft voice said as Harry got situated.
He looked up into a pair of warm, brown eyes. "Thanks," he whispered, feeling better about his new school by the minute.
"I'm Padma," she said.
"Harry," he replied with a shy smile.
The morning's lessons flew by and soon the students were dismissed for lunch. Harry watched as Draco left the room, surrounded by friends, all of whom were laughing and telling stories. Draco didn't seem to notice that Harry wasn't there with him as they left for the lunchroom. Even Padma pranced away for lunch without a glance back at Harry. He sighed, fished out his meager lunch from his knapsack and started to leave. Mrs. Lopp called him back.
"Harry? May I see you for a moment?"
Harry nodded and slowly made his way to his new teacher's desk.
"Madam Pomfrey told me that you often get sick. You poor little dear! Well, nothing's for it, I suppose. Anyway, we'll need to work out a way to get your assignments to you."
Harry hesitated. "Draco Malfoy is my next door neighbor."
"Wonderful! I was worried that we'd have to make some sort of special arrangements. If it seems as though you can work ahead in any subject, we'll do that as well. That way you won't have to do as much catch-up work."
Harry nodded.
"Also, Madam Pomfrey thinks it wise that you not play sports during the recess period. I can get you special permission to take library books outside, if you think you'd prefer that over sitting or, perhaps, playing on the swings."
"I'd like that. About the books, I mean," Harry said, surprised that he was being given such a nice alternative.
"Splendid! Do you have any favorite kinds of books, Harry?"
Harry thought about that and shrugged. He just liked books—mostly because he wasn't allowed to touch the ones at the Dursleys' house. "I like plants," he said, wondering if there were any big picture books of plants like he'd seen at the bookshop on occasion.
"Brilliant, Harry! I'll see what I can find. I see you have your lunch," Mrs. Lopp said, making a gesture to Harry's small paper sack. "Year four students usually have their choice between juice or water, but Madam Pomfrey has requested that you get milk with every lunch."
Harry sighed. He wished he didn't have to drink milk like the itty-bitty first and second years. "All right."
"Excellent! Off you go, then. Go make some nice new friends, Harry."
Harry nodded, resisting the urge to snort at such a ridiculous proposition.
The lunchroom was loud and chaotic. It took a few moments for Harry to realize that the tables were divided by year. He spied some of his classmates at a far table and slowly walked over. Draco sat in the middle, surrounded by friends, all of whom hung on every word as he regaled them with tales of grand adventures. Harry smiled, knowing that he'd heard these stories before anyone else, that he had participated in some. He moved to sit at the far corner when a voice stopped him.
"Harry? Why are you doing down there?"
Harry turned. It was Draco.
"Move Crabbe," Draco said haughtily to the blobby boy next to him. Crabbe grunted and shuffled over a few feet while Draco patted the seat next to him. "Come on, Harry. You sit here."
Harry noticed that there was an equally hulking boy on the other side of Draco. Both he and Crabbe were eyeing Harry as if assessing whether he was a threat to Draco.
Harry made his way over, his nerves almost undoing him. "Hullo," he mumbled as he sat down and placed his small paper sack in front of him. All around him his classmates had beautiful sandwiches and crisps in colorful bags. He saw biscuits and juice and fruit salads. There were fancy lunch boxes and sacks with embroidered names and embellishments. Harry's hands curled around his own little used paper sack as he hesitantly withdrew his half-sandwich and bruised apple.
"This is Harry, everyone," Draco announced. "The one I've been telling you about!"
Harry took a sharp breath, afraid of what was to come. He was pleasantly surprised when he was greeted to a variety of "Hellos," "Hiya, Harrys" and "Nice to meet yous." To his left, Crabbe merely grunted, but, all in all, it sounded like a very welcoming grunt.
"Hullo," Harry said again, this time with a bit more enthusiasm.
"Is it true that you and Draco found pirate's treasure?" asked Pansy Parkinson. She had a squashed little nose and straw-like blonde hair
Before Harry could answer, someone else asked a question.
"Hey Harry, is it true that you spent almost every night at Draco's house this summer? That you slept in tents?" asked a pale, freckled-faced boy named Seamus Finnegan.
Again before Harry could answer, someone else joined the chatter with more questions. Harry blushed and nodded his head—in answer to all their questions.
"Cool," one said. "Brilliant," said another.
Harry couldn't believe it.
"Harry even saved me from an evil snake!" Draco began. "It had fangs as long as toothpicks and it came straight for me! But Harry jumped in front of it and scooped it up with a shovel and flung it away!"
The assembled students gasped at Harry's daring.
Harry rolled his eyes and blushed even more. "It was just a small garden snake," Harry mumbled.
"Nonsense," Draco sniffed—as if copying something he'd seen an adult do—"that snake would have eaten me if it weren't for Harry!"
Harry was almost dizzy from the smiles and looks of appreciation from Draco's friends.
But, that came to a crashing halt moments later. First, the school lunch matron plopped down a small container of milk in front of him after confirming he was Harry Potter. Second, Dudley happened by.
"Oi! Look at the little freak," he said jabbing his finger in Harry's direction and sniggering with his new friends. Dudley spotted the milk. "Aren't you a year four, you little freak? Ahh, what's the matter, does itty bitty little Harry still have to drink milky-wilky?" Dudley said in an exaggerated baby voice.
Harry looked down and bit his lip.
"Cor, you're a sight. Look at you—your uniform is all tatty, it doesn't fit right. And your hair. What's in there—a bee's nest?" Dudley said, egged on by his smarmy little friends.
Draco was distressed at seeing his little lion so sad. "You shut up," he demanded while Harry hissed, "Shove off, Dudley."
Dudley turned to Draco and in a miscalculation of epic proportions, sealed his fate with one careless sentence. "You're just a freak like him," he said with menace.
Pansy gasped and jumped up from the table as did Crabbe.
As Dudley and his two friends continued to taunt and make fun of Harry, and as Draco fumed and fussed like a little tow-headed demon while Harry tried to get everyone to stop arguing, Pansy and Crabbe came back, three much older children trailing behind them.
"Everything okay, Draco?" A blond haired boy asked.
"No. It's not," Draco said. "This blob is bothering us," he snapped, his finger pointing at Dudley.
"Watch your mouth, you little freak," Dudley said as he knocked into Harry to get at Draco.
Dudley was wrenched back by the two other boys who turned out to be the older brothers of Crabbe and the other hulking mass in Harry's class—Gregory Goyle. The older boys—year eights, as Harry later learned—grunted and sneered. "Shut it, you," Goyle said with a vicious jab towards Dudley's midsection.
"Oof," Dudley said, while his "friends" slowly backed away.
The blond haired boy, Michael Parkinson, strode over to Dudley. "Oi! Dursley, already making a name for yourself, I see. Wasn't it you that tripped that little year one this morning and stole his candy? And now, roughing up year fours? Rather bad form don't you think, mate?" Michael looked him over appraisingly. "Though, I doubt your fat arse could go after anything bigger."
Pansy, Seamus and Draco sniggered. Harry just wished desperately that this whole event would soon end. He didn't need anyone making trouble for him.
"You see that little boy there," Michael said, pointing to Draco. "He's a friend of the family. Any friend of his is also a friend of the family. Leave them alone or you'll answer to us."
"Let me go," Dudley heaved as he tried to twist away. "I don't care about your little blond friend, but you can't keep me from my stupid little cousin," he sneered.
Michael turned to Harry. He stared at him for a few moments before his started darting back and forth between Harry and Dudley, lingering on their differences. They focused too on how close Draco was standing next to Harry, as if to protect him. It was obvious to Michael that Dudley terrorized his younger, smaller cousin. It was equally obvious that Draco Malfoy cared for this little bedraggled boy. The Parkinsons owed their lives to the Malfoys and if this kid was important to Draco, then he was important to Michael as well. "Hey kid, this blob says you're his cousin, that true?"
Harry swallowed hard and nodded.
Michael winked at him. "Too bad. Well, they say there's always one freak in the family—sorry you've got to see yours everyday."
Harry almost laughed as Dudley turned a spectacular shade of purple at the notion that he was the freak. The laughter died, though, as Dudley twisted hard, got free and lunged for Harry.
Harry gasped and closed his eyes tight, waiting for the inevitable. When nothing happened, he opened one eye and then both shot open at the sight before him. Little Crabbe and Goyle were now standing in front of him—guarding him. Draco was on his feet, his little hands balled into tight fists. Michael, big Crabbe and Goyle looked ready to defend Mrs. Lopp's entire class and Pansy Parkinson had her arms crossed, a smug expression on her face. But, by the far the best thing was seeing Dudley floundering around, whimpering as the lunchroom matron snagged him by his ear. She'd walked in just as Dudley had lunged for Harry and had immediately taken him to task for "attacking" students. Harry knew he'd pay for it later—privately, behind closed doors—but he wouldn't trade the moment for anything.
Michael Parkinson stopped the school matron and explained with haste that Dudley was Harry's cousin and had been showing Harry a few moves to defend himself.
Harry was nearly beside himself. Was this all an elaborate ruse? Was this when they all turned on him en masse?
Michael smiled at the lunchroom matron, waiting until she'd walked away. The minute she'd left the room, he made a motion to the elder Crabbe and Goyle before turning and winking at Harry again.
Harry was absolutely bewildered.
Crabbe and Goyle grabbed Dudley, twisting his arms behind him painfully. Michael leaned in close, as if to whisper, but he made sure everyone in Mrs. Lopp's class heard him. "I'd say you owe me a favor, Dursley," he spat.
Dudley whimpered and blubbered and nodded his head up and down. He looked to be convulsing.
Michael smiled viciously. "Right, then, here's the thing, Dursley. News travels fast. That year one you messed with? His brother is a year nine—I know him. Well. Also, my family is quite close to the headmistress. Not so good for you, Dursley, if the wrong person found out what you've been getting up to, yeah?"
Dudley squeaked and nodded again.
Harry was absolutely mesmerized by what was happening.
"Around here, we keep our mouths shut. If you know what's good for you, you'll do the same."
Dudley went purple and made little choking sounds, his instinct for self-preservation warred with his desire to see Harry punished. At elder Crabbe and Goyle's growls and, funnily enough, the crack of the younger Crabbe and Goyle's knuckles, Dudley's head bobbed up and down once again in assent.
"Good," Michael said. "Let him go."
Crabbe and Goyle did, but with a nice little twist of the wrist so that Dudley fell right onto his fat arse. Everyone started laughing as Dudley tried to get up and run from the room. Dudley Dursley had dug his grave.
"You all right, kid?" Michael asked Harry.
Harry nodded. "Thanks," he said.
Michael smiled and ruffled Harry's hair. "No problem. That's what bigger kids do. Well, what they're supposed to do. Listen, if you—if any of you—have any more problems with that kid, you come straight to me. Understand?"
Michael received a high-pitched chorus of "yeses" and a wave of nodding heads in response.
"Good." Michael said before squeezing his sister's shoulder, ruffling Draco's hair and walking away with his two friends.
Draco turned to Harry with a conspiratorial grin. "That was almost as much fun as when Dudley ran away screaming like a girl at the sight of that snake!"
Everyone giggled at that—even Harry—his little sandwich, apple and milk not looking nearly so bad after all.