A/N: Thanks to Sansa for the encouragement, the hand-holding, and the fantastic beta work.

Diclaimer: I have no possessory interest in the world of Harry Potter and I certainly make no money from this.

Chapter 9: Where One Door Opens and The Same One Closes

Narcissa snapped the morning paper closed and tossed it in the rubbish bin. Anxiety, an ever-present companion as of late, pooled in her chest and coalesced into a tight, burning knot at the latest in a long string of articles about Trotter Blackmun. She ran her hands through her hair and let go a shaky breath. Something caught her eye outside. She stood abruptly and moved to the window, craning and twisting her neck this way and that in an effort to see what, or rather who, was out there. A small thrush flew by before alighting a branch in a nearby tree. Narcissa blinked and shook her head. This was getting out of hand, she thought to herself as dim, early morning light seeped through the window and washed out the kitchen in murky, gray tones.

If the papers were to be believed, Blackmun was now living in Little Whinging and had been for several months. Narcissa was sure he meant to do something. Waiting for it was undoing her. She'd become distracted. Angry. Short-tempered. She looked over her shoulder every time she went out. She had become so overprotective of Draco—keeping him inside, away from strangers and friends alike—that loud rows between them were daily occurrences. Draco didn't understand why he couldn't play with Harry all of the time and Narcissa couldn't bring herself to explain.

When the phone calls started almost a month ago, the ones in which she met only silence on the other end of the line, Narcissa called Severus and requested brochures from Wolsford. Two days later, she'd paid the refundable deposit for the next year and had submitted Draco's application. It didn't hurt to be prepared. Draco was accepted immediately. As was Narcissa's very large check. Despite everything, at the time Narcissa still wasn't convinced that sending Draco away to school was the right thing to do. That was until the day before.

She'd been preparing for Harry's birthday party when she spied a plain note written on thin paper lying closed on the kitchen table. Too busy with decorations, presents and other things, she'd not given it a second glance. While tidying up the kitchen later that night as the boys and Severus played one of Harry's new board games, she'd found the note again. "I'm watching you and the boy. So much like his father, isn't he? You can't keep him inside forever," it said in an inelegant scrawl. It was from Trotter Blackmun, she was sure. A sense of cold dread washed over her. Had he been in the house? Had he been there? Watching them all pretending that nothing was the matter? Knees weak, she fell into the closest chair, gasped, and allowed the tears that prickled at the corners of her eyes to fall. She would take no more chances with Draco's safety. Wolsford it was to be. It was for the best. Draco would be safely ensconced at school, Severus could look after him, and she could move to one of the newer gated communities nearby. It would be a fresh start for both of them, one without the specter of Trotter Blackmun nipping at their backs.

The thrush flew away, shaking Narcissa from her early morning musings. How long had she been standing there? "This has to stop," she whispered aloud as she opened the cutlery drawer, fished around, and withdrew the brightly colored Wolford brochures that she'd secreted in the back. She bit her lip as she sat and read them for the hundredth time.

"Mum," a sleepy voice called from the doorway to the kitchen, breaking Narcissa's dark thoughts. "What are you doing?"

Narcissa closed her eyes, steeled herself, and clutched at the brochure full of beautiful pictures of the countryside and studious, freshly-scrubbed young men's faces in deep thought. She turned and smiled at the picture her beautiful boy made in his pajamas. His silky blond hair was mussed and his face was still flushed with sleep. He would fit in well at Wolsford. It was the right decision. She was sure of it, though she didn't understand why her hand was shaking. "Good morning, Dragon. Where's Harry?"

"Still sleeping," Draco said with a yawn as he shuffled forward to the kitchen table. "I think we wore him out."

"Well, it's not everyday that a young man turns eleven. I think he enjoyed the party very much."

Draco nodded. "It was like it was his first birthday party ever, or something. He's very funny sometimes," Draco said, distracted as he sorted through the breakfast pastries and fruit salad on the table.

"Draco, how would you feel about going to Uncle Severus's school?" Narcissa blurted. She winced as the words tumbled out. She'd meant to ease into the conversation.

Draco's hand stopped its rooting. His head snapped up. "Why would I go there? I like Bennington-Bright," he answered, trepidation clear in his voice.

"Yes, I know. But, I was thinking that you would have a much better time of it at Wolsford. You could ride horses everyday, see your godfather, meet other children from all around the world. Wouldn't that be lovely?" Her fever-bright eyes willed Draco to understand, to agree.

Draco's gaze dropped to the table. "What about Harry? Could he come, too?"

Narcissa bit her lip. "Well, that would be up to the Dursleys, I'm afraid. If not, you could see him during all of your breaks. You can write letters to each other. Maybe see each other on the occasional weekend. It wouldn't be terribly different from the way it is now."

Draco traced small circles on the table with his index finger. "I don't want to," he said in a soft, subdued voice. "I want to stay here. With you. With Harry and all of my other friends."

"Don't be so childish," Narcissa huffed, regretting the words as quickly as they'd come. Her nerves were too frayed for this. But, there was nothing for it—she'd gone this far. "Don't look at me that way," she said at Draco's petulant stare. "It's not your decision, really. I've decided that you will go. It is a good opportunity for you and I'll not see you waste it."

"Why did you even ask, then?" Draco asked, his voice rising as the now familiar feeling of anger coursed through him. "It's not like you ask me about anything else. I haven't been allowed to leave the house, practically. I hardly ever get to play with Harry anymore. You don't let me do anything," he yelled. "I don't want to go. You can't make me."

"Oh, yes I can," Narcissa whispered, wondering how on earth this had gotten so far out of hand. "You will go. In two weeks time, you and your godfather will be on your way to Wolsford. That's final. It's not your decision."

Draco pursed his lips and balled his hands into tight fists. "I hate you!" he hissed before turning on his heel and running up the stairs to his room.

Narcissa gasped. Tears prickled at the corners of her eyes. "I'd rather have you hate me than have you dead," she whispered.

Draco was furious as he ran to his room. How could his mother send him away? How could she? For the life of him, he couldn't figure out what he had done wrong. And now, she was making him leave. He'd have to make new friends and find new places to play. Worse still, it didn't sound like Harry would be with him. His loyal, faithful friend wouldn't be with him. He hated her. He HATED her.

Draco barreled into his room, slammed the door closed and cast about for something that, when thrown against the wall, was guaranteed to make a spectacular crash. He spied his large piggy bank. With a smirk full of as much frustration as anger, he heaved it over his head and readied it for throwing.

"Draco?" a sleepy voice mumbled, stopping Draco short.

Draco stood there, panting and red-faced, holding the piggy bank over his head, staring at Harry. Harry was burrowed under the covers so that only a little tuft of wild, black hair poked out. He rolled over and slowly pulled his head out, as a shy turtle might emerge from its protective shell. Sleepy green eyes met furious gray ones. Draco gasped. Filled with an emotion he couldn't define, he dropped his hands, allowing the piggy bank to land with a soft thud on the thick carpet. He realized in that moment that in two weeks time he was leaving home, leaving his friend. A broken piggy bank wouldn't change that. He glanced at the picture of him and Harry propped on his dresser by two pieces of fool's gold. His arm was slung across Harry's shoulder—both of them beaming with victory after having found the birthday treasure Harry had hidden for him. Draco's gaze returned to Harry. As quick as it had come, his anger abated. Broken piggy banks wouldn't change things. He smiled and made a decision. There would be one last hurrah for Draco and Harry—one last adventure. One last hunt.

"What are you doing?" Harry asked as he sat up and stretched. "Why are you staring at me? Is something wrong?" he asked as he twisted this way and that to see if his pajamas were on backwards.

"Get up and dressed. We're going on a hunt," Draco said.

Harry cocked his head to the side. "You sure? I thought your Mum was being all funny about leaving the house," he said with a yawn.

"We've permission for this, but you're slowing us down. I've been waiting ages for you to get up so we could go," Draco huffed.

Harry looked down at his lap at and bit his lip. "But the Dursleys might come back at any time today. I don't want to keep them waiting."

Draco dismissed him with a wave of his hand. "They won't be back until tonight. I heard Mum tell Uncle Severus during your party. Now come on, Harry. Hurry up!"

"You're in a right mood," Harry growled as he stood and fumbled for clean clothes.

"Yes, and if you would just hurry, it wouldn't have to get any worse."

"Fine, fine," Harry mumbled as he dressed and ran his hands through his hair in an attempt to tame it.

While Harry dressed, Draco filled a small rucksack with things he thought might be useful for the day. "I thought we'd go over to Howlflax Lake," Draco said with nonchalance as he packed some candy he'd squirreled away several weeks ago.

"Howlflax Lake?" Harry asked as he paused and turned to face Draco. "That's at least two kilometers away. Are you sure we're allowed?"

"Yes!" Draco snapped. "Why are you so concerned, anyway? What are you, a girl or something?"

Anger and hurt coursed through Harry. He snatched his small knapsack, frayed from years of use, and pulled on his trainers in a few quick, rough tugs. "Piss off," he growled, surprised at his boldness. He'd heard the older boys at school say that when they were upset. This seemed the ideal situation to use it. His hand grasped the doorknob. "And I'm not a bloody girl," he said over his shoulder as he yanked the door open, intending to leave.

"Don't go!" Draco pleaded as he pushed the door closed and pulled Harry away. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

Harry looked up with wary eyes and stared at Draco, who stared back with repentance and pleading in his eyes. Harry sighed. "I'm not a bloody girl. Don't you ever call me that again."

Draco nodded. "I'm sorry," he said again. "It's just that we have to leave now, Harry. We have to do this today."

Harry cocked his head to the side. "Draco." He hesitated. "What's going on?"

"I just . . ." Draco shook his head. He had two weeks to tell Harry he was leaving. Now wasn't the time. "I just want to go play. It's been ages since I've been out. Besides it's just the lake."

Harry bit his bottom lip. He nodded.

"Brilliant," Draco said, grabbing Harry's hand and pulling him down the stairs. "Wait here," he said once they'd reached the foyer. "I'll just tell Mum we're going."

"Yeah, okay."

Draco walked to the kitchen. He thrust his chin out and crossed his arms over his chest. "Mum, Harry and I are going outside to play. We're going to play in his backyard for the day."

Narcissa swallowed at the defiance in her son's eyes. She didn't want him to leave at all, but after the disastrous morning they'd had, perhaps it was better for both of them to put some distance between them. "Do not take that tone with me, Draco."

Draco rolled his eyes and huffed, yet his eyes pleaded to be let out.

"Fine. You and Harry can play outside."

"We'll have lunch at Harry's. No use calling us in."

"I--" don't think that's such a good idea, Narcissa meant to say. But as Draco pursed his lips and curled his small hands into tiny fists, she gave in. She couldn't handle another row this morning. "That should be fine," she whispered. She smiled, hoping it would be returned. It wasn't. Draco turned to leave, but Narcissa stopped him. "I'm sorry about this morning, but this really is for the best."

Draco stared at her before turning and leaving.

"The headmaster would like this faxed to him today if possible, Cissa," said Severus, dropping the student questionnaire in front of her.

Narcissa sighed. She looked up at the clock. It was just past noon. She'd spent all morning working with Severus on filling out all of Draco's new school's forms. "Right," she said. "Severus, will you collect the boys? They should be having lunch at Harry's. Draco is terribly cross with me about this. I think it would be better if you brought him back."

Severus nodded. "And what of Mr. Potter?"

"Bring him along, of course. He can't be left in that house alone." She shook her head. "I still can't believe the nerve of the Dursleys—deciding to go on holiday just two days before Harry's birthday."

Severus's expression remained impassive. "They really are the worst sort," he swore under his breath.

Narcissa smiled. "Careful, Severus. You're letting your compassion show again. Someone might think you actually care for Harry's well being."

Severus gave a sneer that could curdle cream before stalking off to collect Draco and Harry. Narcissa snickered and continued to review the school forms she needed to prepare.

A knock at the door startled her. Thinking that perhaps the Dursleys had come home sooner than expected she swore under her breath, wondering what was keeping Severus and the boys.

"I didn't expect you so early," she began as she opened the door. The words died on her lips as a pair of beady hazel eyes stared into her soft, blue ones. Narcissa gasped, took a step back and tried to slam the door.

"Easy, love," Trotter Blackmun said as he forced the door to remain open. "Where's that famous Malfoy courtesy I've heard so much about?"

"Get away from here!" Narcissa shrieked as her gaze darted out the door, searching for Severus and the boys.

Trotter turned around and laughed. "Whatcha looking for, love? That little boy of yours and his black-haired tag-a-long? Harry's, his name, right? Thick as thieves, those two. Sorta like me 'n Lucy. For a while there, anyway. Poor, poor Lucy . . . shame what happened to him. He shoulda known better," Trotter growled.

Narcissa's heart was beating wildly and her limbs felt as though they'd turned to stone. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't think. "What do you want?" she asked in a harsh whisper.

"Just came for a friendly visit, I did. Just thought I'd make young Master Malfoy's acquaintance. Tell him about his old dad—the real story, mind you. Tell him the truth instead of them fairy stories you've been filling his head with, no doubt."

Narcissa's head swung around wildly, desperate for any sign of Draco and Harry. Her hand clutched at the door, unable to move. "What have you done? Where's my son?"

Trotter leaned in with a leer. "Now, now, Narci. Just what kind of mum are you? Don't know where your boy is, do you? If I were you, I'd be keeping a better eye on little Draco."

A strangled cry left Narcissa's lips.

Trotter laughed, winked, and leapt from the porch, running away. Narcissa took after him, but it was no use. Trotter jumped into the passenger side of a waiting car. The tires screeched as it peeled off, Trotter's malicious cackle hanging in the air. Narcissa screamed and made to run after the car, sure that Trotter Blackmun had done something horrible to Draco.

"Narcissa!" Severus said, as he ran to her. He grabbed her round the waist and held her tight as she struggled to get away. "Narcissa," he called again. "Stop these hysterics this instant! What's wrong? What's happened?"

Narcissa fell limp in Severus' arms. He relaxed his grip and she twisted around and grabbed his face with her hands, ignoring his hiss as she jerked his head forward. "Tell me you've found them. Tell me they were in the backyard playing. Tell me you have them," she screamed as she shook him hard.

With great effort, Severus pulled Narcissa's hands away, turned her around and pulled her along, making their way back to the house. He noticed a few curious neighbors staring at them. He sneered in their direction before whispering to Narcissa, "Stop making a scene. They weren't there. Not in the house either. What's gotten into you?"

"Trotter Blackmun," she gasped. "He has them."

"What?" Severus said, stopping them. "What are you talking about?"

"Blackmun. He came to the house. Said he wanted to tell Draco all about Lucius. He knew about Harry, too. He knew his name, Severus. He's got them! He's got them both!"

Severus swallowed and closed his eyes. He nodded and clutched Narcissa to him. "This is what we are going to do. We are going to go inside. I'm going to call the police. You are going to tell them everything you know with a minimum of hysterics. We've got to tell them everything we can, Narcissa, about the boys and Blackmun. I need you to remember what he was wearing, how long he was here, how he left. Can you do that?"

Narcissa sniffed and nodded.

"Let's go," Severus said as he pulled Narcissa into the house.

"Do you think people can stay friends from far away?" Draco asked as his feet made lazy circles in the lake. They'd spent all day exploring trails and little coves around the lake. They'd played hide and seek in the small forest surrounding the lake, had swordfights with sticks while pretending to be brave knights fighting invisible foes, and had climbed trees pretending they were pirates, the forest's soft undergrowth their ship, the trees their masts. The late afternoon found them perched on an old dock, enjoying some sandwiches Draco had purchased for them earlier in the day. The sun hung heavy and orange in the sky.

"That's an odd question," Harry murmured as he swallowed a bite of his sandwich.

Draco shrugged, his lazy gesture belying the tenseness of his body and the sincerity of his question. "Still, though," he said.

Harry thought about it. "Yeah, I suppose. I mean, you can write letters and ring the person up when you want to talk. And, there's always visits. Why are you asking?"

Draco shrugged again. "No reason," he murmured. Harry said nothing in return. The silence was more comfortable than it ought to have been, Draco thought. He sprawled across the dock, allowing his fingers to brush through the water. his head dipped down as he stared at the gentle lapping of the lake. He caught a small stick drifting by and began dragging it back and forth in the water.

Harry sighed. "You've been tetchy all day, you know. Is it because we didn't find any treasure?"

Draco dropped the stick and scrambled to his knees. He grasped Harry's hands. "Today has been brilliant."

Harry laughed nervously and tugged his hands away. "You are very strange, Draco Malfoy." Harry looked away from the intensity of Draco's gaze. His eyes flicked to the sun. "Come on. We should head back. The Dursleys will probably be back in a few hours."

Draco nodded and watched as Harry stood. He wasn't ready for this adventure to end, though. It was the last one they would have, he was sure of it, as only an eleven-year-old child could be. As Harry bent over to gather his sandwich wrapping, Draco had the most wicked idea. "Yeah, but not before a swim!" he said. With a smirk, he pushed Harry, who lost his balance and tipped over the side of the dock, landing in the lake with a loud splash.

A few seconds later, with arms and legs flapping and flailing, Harry broke the surface of the water. He was sputtering. His glasses were askew and his face was red with embarrassment.

Draco couldn't stop laughing at the sight. He held his sides and laughed like he hadn't in a long time. Therefore, he was unprepared for the sharp tug on his ankles, tipping him forward into the lake as well.

"What the--," Draco sputtered before landing in the water.

Harry laughed as Draco's head shot up through the water. "You're right. We can't go home before a swim."

"I'm going to get you for that!" Draco shrieked, taking off after Harry.

Harry laughed and swam away from Draco. Soon, both boys were wrestling in the water, dunking each other and swimming back and forth. They laughed and taunted and teased and for a moment, Draco forgot that he was soon leaving his friend.

They paddled and played for nearly an hour before, exhausted, they hauled themselves out of the water and lay on the dock, letting the warmth from the boards and sinking sun keep the chill at bay. Both of them were soaking wet, covered in mud, had scraped knees and sunburns and were deliriously happy. They lay there for a while, each lost in their own thoughts, before Harry sat up. "We really need to head back," he said, sad to see the magic of the day waning.

Draco nodded. He sat up and stared hard out over the lake, not ready to leave but knowing it was time to go. He stood and helped Harry to his feet. "You know you're my friend, right?" Draco asked.

Harry gave him a curious look. "Yes. I know that, you prat."

"Nothing will ever change that," Draco said softly.

Harry swallowed and nodded. The intensity of Draco's stare made him uncomfortable again. He stared back over the lake before softly punching Draco in the arm. "Now who's being the bloody girl?"

Both boys dissolved into giggles, the seriousness of the moment passing, and they began the walk home.

There had been no sightings of Blackmun since he'd left Magnolia Crescent earlier that afternoon. There'd been no sightings of Draco or Harry since that morning. The sun had finally set. Hope was waning. Narcissa huddled on the couch, staring at the Persian rug beneath her feet. She remembered the day she and Lucius had purchased it. They'd fought viciously over the extravagance of it. But Narcissa wanted it. She'd insisted that they needed it. Lucius had argued for the less expensive reproduction, citing that no one would be able to tell the difference. "I will know the difference," she'd said, followed up with the reminder that they were Malfoys and Malfoys had certain appearances to maintain. Lucius had relented and purchased it for her, as he had with everything Narcissa insisted they needed.

The carpet's colors bled before her eyes. The patterns swirled into a grotesque parody. She hated that carpet. That carpet, and all of her other expensive things, had led Lucius to throw his lot in with Blackmun, Narcissa was sure of it. For the glory of things, for possessions, she might lose her son. Her eyes fluttered closed as guilt and bile rose in her throat.

The clock tick-tocked relentlessly in the corner. Severus was in the other room making calls, shouting occasionally, describing the boys to the person on the other end of the line. But it was the low murmur of laughter from the remaining detectives leaning against the wall opposite her that caught Narcissa's attention. Her stare, sharp and fierce, cowed the young detectives. With sheepish smiles, they moved to the kitchen, perhaps to laugh with less guilt.

The beginning frenzy of activity and investigation had dwindled to this—her sitting on the couch regretting purchases made, Severus shouting in frustration, young detectives and officers giggling in the kitchen about something unrelated. And why shouldn't they laugh at inconsequential things? This wasn't their house, their son, or their guilt over bloody carpets. She should never have let Draco go outside. She should never have left them alone for so long. What kind of mother was she? She'd favored carpets over children. She'd craved Draco's acceptance over protecting him.

Her stare returned to the carpet as she toed an intricate pattern over and over again. Anything—she would have given anything, done anything, to see Draco walk through the front door. Alive.

Draco and Harry were almost home. Even though they were tired, hungry, cold, and a bit worse for wear, they were in good spirits as they joked about the day's adventures. As they rounded the corner the flicker of lights from police cars in front of Draco's house stopped them dead.

Draco was seized with the sudden, indefatigable fear that his mother was dead. "Mum," he said in a strangled whisper, before he took off at a run. Harry followed, only a few steps behind.

"Mum!" Draco whined as he got closer. How could he have left without telling her? Why had he been so rude and churlish with her? He couldn't lose her. He'd go to the bloody school. He'd even pretend to be happy about it. He just couldn't lose his Mum.

"Mum!" he cried as his feet pounded up the steps and he threw open the front door.

"MUM!" he screamed as he tore into the house, gasping for breath, wild-eyed and searching for his mother.

"Draco!" Narcissa cried as a blond blur burst through the front door. She couldn't believe it. He was home. He was home! She ran to him, gathered him in her arms and clutched him to her. "Draco, Draco, Draco," she whispered over and over as she sat and pulled him into her lap. Severus ran to the room and began barking questions, as did the detectives. Draco and Narcissa paid little mind. All that mattered to each of them was that the other was safe.

During all of the commotion, Harry, panting from running after Draco, slipped through the open door. At the sight of Draco and Mrs. Malfoy huddled on the floor, Mr. Snape leaning over them while barking questions and clutching at them, and policemen swarming everywhere, Harry went pale and shuttled to the far corner of the room, hiding himself in the silence and shadows. He didn't like all of the yelling, all of the crying. He shivered and pulled his arms around himself, watching the scene unfold.

"Severus, deal with the policemen," Narcissa snapped, at long last convinced that Draco was home.

Severus said something, causing the detectives to back away and cease their rapid-fire questioning.

Narcissa pulled away from Draco, noticing for the first time that he was wet and dirty, his hair was mussed and he had scrapes across his arms. "What happened, Dragon? How did you get away? Did he hurt you? Did that awful man hurt you?"

"What man?" Draco said, before he had his wits about him.

One of the policemen stepped forward and crouched down before Severus could stop him. "Draco, my name is Officer Phillips. When your mum couldn't find you, she called us to help."

Draco's cheeks colored and he looked down, having realized what had happened. "Oh," he said.

Officer Phillips withdrew a picture from his pocket. "Draco, did this man take you and your friend? Did he hurt you at all? This is really important, Draco. I need you to tell me the truth."

Draco stared at the picture. He swallowed and shook his head. "No, sir," he whispered.

"But you're hurt, and cold and dirty. What happened? Where have you been?" Narcissa fretted as she ran her hands over Draco, assessing for injuries. "It was his henchmen, then," Narcissa barked at the detective. "He's hurt, can't you see? Obviously someone took him. Why are you here? You should be out finding the men who did this." Narcissa, not allowing the detective a chance to respond, turned to Severus as she pulled Draco even closer. "That's it. I'm calling the solicitor tomorrow. I'm selling this bloody house and moving to Kilcrestly Estates straight away." Finally, she turned back to Draco. "Now, you must tell us, Draco. What happened? The detectives need to know everything."

"Er," Draco said, his cheeks coloring more. "No one took us, Mum. I swear."

"Where have you been then? Why weren't you in the backyard?"

"We went to the lake," Draco said in a bare whisper.

The ensuing silence was sudden and complete.

Narcissa stiffened. "I see," she said after a long while.

Officer Phillips twisted around and exchanged a glance with Severus. Severus nodded at the unspoken question. "Boys, it looks everything is going to be fine here. Why don't we take our leave," Phillips said to the remaining detectives. There were a few general murmurs of assent as the other officers gathered their belongings, made calls to headquarters and began leaving. Phillips stood and took Severus aside as Narcissa and Draco had a whispered conversation. "Looks like no more cause for worry. I think the boys may have gone off playing for the day and didn't say anything," Phillips said.

Severus nodded. "Indeed."

Phillips handed him the picture. "I've got what I need from Draco. But, as long as I'm here, I should talk to the young man standing in the corner over there. Is he yours?"

Severus's head snapped to the corner Phillips was gesturing towards. Harry stood in the corner, his head down, shivering, and with his arms wrapped tightly around him. His knees were scraped and bloody. Swathes of dirt covered his legs and arms. When had Harry come in? How had they missed that? "No, he's not," Severus whispered. "He belongs to the neighbors. Unfortunately, they are out of town until tomorrow."

Phillips nodded. "Right. No need to really talk to him, really. Glad the boys are home safe."

"Yes, we are as well," Severus said, thanking the detective as he showed him out.

He returned to the living room a few minutes later, to see that Harry had moved from the corner and was now standing next to Draco. Both boys had their heads hanging low while Narcissa paced back and forth.

"What were you thinking, running off like that?" Narcissa snapped. The shock had worn off, it seemed.

"I'm sorry Mum," Draco said piteously. "Sorry Mrs. Malfoy," Harry mumbled, while shooting Draco a dirty look. He was furious with Draco.

"Sorry isn't good enough," Narcissa hissed. "Do you have any idea how worried I was, Draco? Do you?" Narcissa cried as she pulled Draco to her again and hugged him close. "I am very disappointed in you," she said.

Draco sniffed. "I'm sorry," he wailed. "I didn't mean to scare you. I—we—Harry hadn't ever been to the lake." Draco shot Harry a brief look before continuing. "He really wanted to go, he begged me in fact, and you would have said no!"

"What!" Harry exclaimed, furious that Draco would lie about him. He was just like Aunt Petunia, Harry thought.

Narcissa's eyes cut to Harry in that moment. She was certain that Harry had played no part in the decision to go to the lake. The venomous snarl on his face as he stared at Draco confirmed it. Best to keep them apart, she decided.

"Right," she said. "Upstairs and into the bath immediately," she said to Draco with a firm smack to his bottom. "I'll not have you catch your death just when I've gotten you back. We'll get you fixed up and into bed. We will discuss your punishment in the morning."

Draco nodded as fat tears rolled down his cheeks. He turned to trudge up the stairs. Before he could get too far, Narcissa pulled him back and gave him a fierce hug, kissing him on the head and murmuring how much she loved him and how scared she'd been before letting him go.

"Severus," Narcissa said. "A word, please."

Severus and Narcissa left the room, leaving Harry standing there, head down and shivering. "I want you to take Draco with you tomorrow. I think it's for the best. Please don't argue with me," she said, staving off Severus's argument. At his reluctant nod, she continued on. "Please help him upstairs. He's got a rather awful scratch across his arm. I'll get him packed with what he needs for the next week or so and will send his other things by post." Severus nodded and turned to head up the stairs. Narcissa breathed a sigh of relief. She didn't think she could trust herself not to break down into a blobby mass of tears if she'd gone up to help Draco.

Harry, having no idea what to do while Mrs. Malfoy and Mr. Snape were talking, just kept staring at the carpet. He hoped to God he hadn't left muddy footprints behind on top of everything else. Beyond that, he was angry with Draco. Really, really angry. How could Draco do that to him? Why would he blame him? Harry was sure that Mrs. Malfoy believed Draco. That's probably what she and Mr. Snape were discussing. His punishment; perhaps they were even talking about how best to tell the Dursleys. At the feel of Narcissa's soft squeeze to his shoulder, he gasped and looked up.

"Harry," Narcissa whispered. "I need to talk with you about something and then we'll get you cleaned up, okay?"

Harry nodded, fearing the worst.

Narcissa began pacing again. "Harry, you won't be able to come over any more."

Harry's mouth fell open. A shocking cold whirled through him as his stomach plummeted. All of this because of the lake?

Narcissa continued on, not noticing Harry's distress. "I'm sure Draco's told you that he's leaving for boarding school. After what happened today, I've decided he needs to leave straight away."

"What?" he blurted. Mrs. Malfoy didn't seem to hear him. She was pacing back and forth like she'd done before, not really paying attention to Harry. He felt a bit numb. Draco was leaving. Was it because of Harry? Did he have to leave early because of what Harry had supposedly done? Hang on—Draco knew. He'd known he was leaving and hadn't said a word to Harry. How long had Draco known? Had he known at the end of school? Had he known the day before during Harry's birthday party? Betrayal and hurt joined the lingering anger, seeping through the cold and causing his cheeks to burn and his hands to curl into small fists.

"I'm afraid there won't be time for a proper goodbye tomorrow. Of course, you can say goodbye tonight," Narcissa continued on, oblivious to Harry.

"No," Harry blurted, blinded by his anger.

Narcissa stopped pacing and stared at Harry. Surely she'd misunderstood. "But, Harry-"

"No," he whispered.

Narcissa sighed. She was not in the mood to argue with a hysterical adolescent. Harry needed a hot bath, warm clothes and a good meal. She was sure he would change his mind once he didn't look and feel like a bedraggled cat. "Let's get you out of these cold, wet clothes and get you cleaned up. It looks as though you brought half of the lake back with you."

Harry felt as though he'd been stung. It was about him, then. She believed Draco.

"We can use the bath down here. Do you have a clean change of clothes?"

Harry shook his head 'no.'

"I'll just run up and get a few things, then."

Harry nodded. He returned his gaze to the carpet. He was confused and hurt. More than that, he was ashamed that Mrs. Malfoy believed what Draco had said. Draco wasn't his friend after all, it seemed.

"Harry?"

Harry looked up again and blinked. Mrs. Malfoy had towels, what looked like a small first aid kit and a change of clothes in her hands. When had she left?

Narcissa bit her lip. Harry looked awfully pale and disoriented. Perhaps that explained his bizarre reaction to saying goodbye to Draco. Worried that he was in some sort of shock, she put her arm around him and led him to the downstairs bath. "Come, Harry. Let's get you cleaned up, okay?"

Harry nodded as he let himself be led away. He heard Mrs. Malfoy start the bath and smelled the apple scented bubble bath she added. Apple scented steam billowed in the small room, taking some of the bite out of the chill.

He felt her remove his glasses and sit him down on a small stool as she pulled off his worn trainers and socks. But it wasn't until he felt his shirt being lifted and pulled over his head that his brain finally caught up with what was happening and why this wasn't a good idea.

"No," he cried as he struggled to pull his shirt down. At Mrs. Malfoy's stunned expression, Harry elaborated. "I—I can . . . you don't have to help me. I'm sure Draco needs you," he blurted as he tried to tug the shirt from her grasp. "Thanks for the towels and the clean clothes. You don't have to stay."

"Don't be silly, Harry. Severus is helping Draco and I'm helping you. I daresay you are not in any condition to do this and I want to make sure you're not hurt anywhere you can't see. Now, let's get this shirt off and get you into the bath, yes?" she said as she tugged the shirt away and began pulling it off.

"No, please," Harry said as he struggled to keep Mrs. Malfoy from taking his shirt off. It was no use, however. He felt the shirt pull free. For a few moments he thought, maybe, she wouldn't notice. At her gasp, he closed his eyes, knowing what she saw. He knew the small ring of bruises around the upper part of his right arm was still there. He was sure she'd seen the fading ones that decorated his collarbone on both sides as well. This day could not have gotten any worse. Not only did she think he was some sort of ruffian whose behavior required her to send her son away to school right away, but she now knew about his punishments. She'd know that he was as awful as she thought.

He felt her tentative touch and blurted out, "I fell." He opened his eyes and stared hard and said again, "I fell," desperate for her to believe him, hoping that she would think anything other than that he was an unruly troublemaker.

Narcissa withdrew her hand. She knew these bruises hadn't come from a fall. Staring her in the face was proof of what she'd long suspected. The timing could not have been worse.

"I fell," Harry said again, though more softly this time.

Narcissa closed her eyes. She had a decision to make in that moment—one that she wouldn't understand the full ramifications of until years later. She shook her head, decision made. Draco had to be her priority at the moment. She did not have it in her to ask Harry about the bruises or to tell him what she'd long suspected. No, right now she had only the capacity to keep one child safe and that was Draco. Once Draco was away, she lied to herself, she would confront the Dursleys.

"I fell," Harry said again in a whisper

His voice pleaded with her to believe him, but something altogether different flashed in his eyes, betraying him. Narcissa had to look away as she nodded her acceptance. "You should be more careful," she said haltingly before turning back to him. His eyes had dulled, she noticed. Betrayal of a different sort resided there. For a moment, at least, and then it was gone. Narcissa convinced herself that she was seeing things. She convinced herself that the bruises weren't that bad; that, given Harry's pale complexion, he could have gotten them from someone helping him up as he fell.

"Let's get you in the bath," she whispered. She needed to be out of that room. "Can you wash up on your own, then?"

Harry opened his mouth to ask why she wasn't staying, but he closed it again. "Yes, ma'am," he said softly, watching her as she stood. She seemed to wrestle with herself about something before eventually slipping through the door and closing it behind her.

Harry sunk down into the water, expecting to feel pleased. She'd believed him. Instead, he felt cold and a bit empty. The tap dripped, the sounds of the splashing water loud in the small space. He stared at the closed door. Why he was unable to look away, he didn't understand.

Harry emerged from the washroom clean, dry and dressed in warm clothes. He'd put plasters on a few of his scrapes and left the rest alone. He brought out his wet clothing, balled up and ready for washing. Mrs. Malfoy was in the kitchen, staring out of the window.

"Mrs. Malfoy?" he murmured.

She turned, as if shaken from something. "The Dursleys are home. I'll walk you over," she said in a stiff voice, forgetting about convincing Harry to say goodbye to Draco.

Harry swallowed. She seemed angry. Finally, she seemed angry. He'd expected it. He hung his head and nodded.

When they reached the Dursleys, Narcissa turned. Her eyes met Harry's for a moment and then, as if disgusted, she turned her gaze to a point just above him and to the left. Aunt Petunia opened the door, gushing at Narcissa and ignoring Harry. Harry didn't pay attention to that, however. His gaze was fixed firmly on Mrs. Malfoy. She seemed to want to say something to Aunt Petunia, but didn't. Harry didn't understand why she didn't tell his aunt what a horrid little boy he'd been—getting Draco in trouble, dragging him to the lake, getting the police involved. But she didn't, even though she couldn't bring herself to look at him either. This was it, then, she was just ready to wash her hands of him. She hadn't believed him about falling after all. Harry dropped his head.

"Petunia," Narcissa began, as if she meant to announce something.

"Narcissa," Petunia responded, her eyebrow arched, waiting for whatever Narcissa was going to say.

Narcissa licked her lips and her gaze dropped to Harry's once more. For an instant, she thought about telling Petunia what she saw, what she suspected. "I—the boys . . . they played down at the lake today. Harry got a little banged up. Some bruises and things," she said, looking significantly at Petunia.

"Yes?" Petunia asked, her face betraying nothing.

Narcissa swallowed. "Nothing . . . I . . . just wanted to make you aware," she murmured. She would confront them later, she told herself; when there was more time, when she didn't have to worry about Draco.

"Thank you for your concern," Petunia said in a tight voice as her hand grabbed for Harry's shoulder and pulled him in the house.

Harry didn't look up; he was waiting for whatever Mrs. Malfoy was going to say next.

"Well, I should be getting back," Narcissa said as she turned and left, the click of the Dursleys' door closing screaming at her in the silence.

Harry hovered behind the wax myrtles dividing the Dursleys' lawn from Draco's. It was early, the pale light coloring everything in shades of pale violet and icy blue. He had a small spade in his hand and had laid other gardening items to the side of him. He bit his lip as he looked back at the Dursleys' house. He was sure they were still asleep, but had prepared the ruse of getting an early start on his gardening chores should any of them wander out. He'd been standing there for nearly half an hour. He was sure Draco hadn't left yet—both Mrs. Malfoy's and Mr. Snape's cars were still in the drive.

Why he was out there--posed in this ridiculous half-crouch, a spade in his hand, hovering-- he still couldn't quite work out. His head hurt from all of the confusion. He was angry with Draco. He was hurt. He was ashamed of what Mrs. Malfoy thought of him. But he was going to miss Draco. Out of some perverse sense of voyeurism, he had to watch Draco leave. Maybe Draco would see him standing there, would run to him and tell him how sorry he was. Maybe Draco would tell his mother that he couldn't leave. Maybe Mrs. Malfoy would sweep him up into a hug like she'd given Draco the night before and tell him that he—no . . . Harry wouldn't even let himself dream of such possibilities.

The familiar snap of the Malfoys' back door shook Harry back to the present. He crept closer, his small face poking between the shrubs. Draco looked sleepy as he shuffled towards the backseat of Mr. Snape's car. Mr. Snape and Mrs. Malfoy were saying something—Harry couldn't quite make it out. Suitcases were loaded into the boot. Mrs. Malfoy gathered Draco into a fierce hug, kissed him on the head and murmured something to him. She let him go and ushered him to the backseat. Draco looked over towards the Dursleys' house. Harry's breath caught in his throat. He gathered his courage and was about to step out from behind the bushes, to show Draco that he was there, but before he could, Draco turned away and settled himself into the backseat. Harry almost flung himself from behind the bushes anyway. Maybe he could just go to Draco instead? By the time he'd mustered his courage, however, it was too late. The car started and began driving away.

Narcissa and Harry both watched as Mr. Snape and Draco drove down Magnolia Crescent. Both were pensive and sad, and not for disparate reasons. But where one saw the door to opportunity opening, the other saw it shut; firmly closed this time.