AN: WHAAAT, an update! I know right, it has only been like...four months. I am so sorry about the delay. Between a new job, with better pay, and a few other issues I haven't had the time to write like I used to. Luckily I managed to work around my schedule and finish this up. So now, enjoy the next chapter in this story, with a bit more backstory and understanding of certain characters feelings and motivations. Next chapter, that is where the fun will begin, as Draco fully enters the picture. Stay safe, and enjoy!
Morning dawned early on Malfoy Manor. Golden beams of sunlight were casting out the dark gloom of night that seemed to permeate the place. As warmth filled the frigid nook and crannies, a certain wizard had been up with the sun, putting quill to parchment.
The writing desk of Draco Malfoy was strewn about with various crumpled bits of paper, all covered in ink that was bleeding through the thin material. Words like "I am sorry" and "Truly love you" could just barely be made out among the hastily written notes. Not only that, but the various goblets that had been collected told the tale of a young man who had been hard at work writing something for sometime. Part of him didn't even know why he was writing this letter. The chances of it reaching the person it was meant to were non-existent. Even then, why would Harry Potter even respond to them.
"Even if we did have a moment" muttered Draco, his thoughts still swirling on why he was writing the letter. Though, as his mind cast back to his fifth year, he knew why.
Draco never truly hated Harry. In fact most, if not all, of his animosity towards the Savior of the Wizarding World stemmed from wanting to please his father. Draco had been groomed that he was the best, and that others would flock to his side, or bend to his superiority. When he heard that Harry Potter would be coming to Hogwarts the same year he was, Draco had been over the moon. Here was his chance to make friends with the famous Harry Potter. More than that, here was his chance to make friends with the Boy Who Lived. He always imagined that Harry was hidden away, being trained and groomed just like he was. Yet, when the first met, he was already in with a Weasley.
Since then, since that day Harry had spurred his handshake, Draco felt robbed. That something that was rightfully his had been stolen away. That red-head and that Mudblood, they had stolen away HIS Potter. It was this that led to Draco's rivalry with Harry. Yet, as time went on, and as they clashed, Draco started to actually look at Harry. During small moments with his friends, how he'd laugh. Those other moments, when his face would be contorted in confusion at some small problem. As time went on, Draco noticed Harry more and more, as well as his feelings towards the wizard. It was this that made the fact Harry never accepted his friendship hurt all the more.
Then came Fifth year. Everyone was still reeling from the death of Cedric, and the return of Voldemort. While most of the school thought he was crazy, Draco knew the truth. His father had been over the moon, and had spent so much time trying to make Draco into the perfect Death Eater. Something that Draco never wanted to do. While everyone was busy worrying about the seemingly approaching war, and pushing Harry away as crazy, Draco was busy actually watching Harry again. While his so called friends may not have picked up on it, Draco did. The young man was crumbling, breaking slowly under the weight on his shoulders. Sure, he put on a brave face, but after so many years of watching Harry, Draco knew when the young man was putting on a front.
Draco was actually worried for Potter. Even when he sided with Umbridge, a move prompted by his Father, the youngest Malfoy felt a pang of guilt every time he had to turn Potter over to that pink toad. Every time he did, Draco wanted to do nothing more than try and comfort a boy who was already hurting, but his sense of duty and want to earn his Father's respect forced his hand. Forced him to adopt that cold, Malfoy demeanor. It never stopped him from thinking of to comfort Harry, without coming off as insulting, or letting their rivalry get in the way. Or, even worse, letting both his Father and Voldemort get wind of what he was doing. He didn't get his chance till the end of the year. Till he found Harry in the Astronomy Towers, crying his eyes out.
End of Fifth Year
Draco had no idea what drew him to that tower. It was the end of the school year, and the entire castle was too busy fearing the officially confirmed return of Voldemort, leaving classes to be canceled. Yet, he was climbing those steps the evening before they were all due to return back to their parents. Perhaps it was the fact that, up there, it was quiet. Away from the gossiping students, all of whom were worried about the impending war. Away from the constant pull between wanting to please his father and wanting to be free of the man. It was above it all, a place where one could be out of reach, if even for a few moments. As he sat there, looking up at the night sky, Draco felt a small rush of peace. Here, it was calm. Silent. Peacefully. At least it was, until he overheard sniffing.
Fearing some snot nosed First Year had perhaps followed him up here, Draco pulled his wand and followed the source of the sound, ready to hex whomever it was. As he neared the closet were the sniffing was coming from, Draco put on his best, "I'm better than you" face, complete with a condescending grin. With a flourish, he yanked the doors open, and pointed his wand at the person within.
"What are you do-Potter!" the grin dropped, as Draco locked eyes with the tear stained face of Harry. A tear stained face that was turning beet red with shame and fear.
For a second, no one did anything. Draco's wand never moved, and Harry's green eyes never left Draco's. In that moment, as Draco looked down at Harry, he felt something he couldn't really understand. All he knew was, seeing Harry like that, it hurt him for some reason. As the second slowly passed, Draco made the first move, slowly pocketing his wand, and looking down at Harry, worry clear in his eyes.
"P-Potter, are you...crying" the answer to the question was obvious, something that Draco realized, but he didn't ask for confirmation, more like he asked out of worry. Harry, however, didn't take it that way.
"Go away Draco. You don't have Umbridge's backing any more, so don't think you can get away with doing whatever you want to me" snapped back Harry, who made a move to leave the closet, only to find his way blocked by an unmoving Malfoy.
"Harry, just stop. I didn't know you were up here. I just….never mind why I was up here. Look, if you want to cry, be my guest. Just, don't do it where I can hear you" it was meant to sound harsh, scathing. Yet the tone Draco have was more caring, and filled with a certain kindness that one wouldn't expect from the Ferret. It was also something that made Harry all the more wary, his eyes narrowing behind those glasses.
"Whatever, just get out of my way and I'll leave you to your brooding" snapped Potter, who didn't wait for Draco to move and slipped past him, storming angrily towards the exit. As he did so, Draco reached out, and caught his shoulder before he got to far, and the young man felt Harry tense under his fingertips.
"Listen. I know it isn't my place, for so many reasons, but, don't leave. If this is where you need to be, then stay. I'll leave you to..whatever you need to do"
Draco didn't know why he said what he did, it honestly felt like something his mother would say. Something that would allow someone to leave graciously, and still preserve your own integrity. Beyond that, it felt right to do so. Harry had lost so much already, and deep down, Draco didn't want to take away something as small as the young man's right to grieve how he saw fit. He may have been his father's son, but Draco still had some humanity left in him. Turning to leave, Draco wanted to say something, anything to perhaps console Harry, however nothing came to mind. Instead, he was filled with an urge to hug the young man, to tell him it would be alright, even if that was a lie. As his hand clutched that brass handle, Draco wanted nothing more than to turn around and be there for Harry, yet he knew it would be far to wrong. They had no real relationship beyond their arguments and fights. Still, as he went down those steps, Draco wished that he had done that.
It was those feelings, the ones filled with worry, regret, and care that had kept Draco writing for days on end. Every time he thought he came close to the perfect letter, he'd find a flaw and start from scratch. Even now, he was balling up his latest missive. IN anger, he quickly sent the ball aflame, and watched the paper curl in on itself. This all would be so much easier, he reasoned, if he could just talk to Harry. To apologise for years of terrible actions and words between the two. To verbally try to amend their past, and try to craft a new future. Yet, such things would never happen, or ever be so easy. After all, it was only Draco who felt anything that night, at least that is what the blonde reasoned. Come sixth year, both he and Harry would be at each other's throats once more, back into their old cycle of childish hate. If only Harry had taken his handshake that day,
"Or if only I wasn't such a prat that day" Draco bemoaned, as he lay he head upon his desk, a bit harder than intended, something that was rather unbecoming for a Malfoy.
"Still sulking I see" came the light voice of his mother, who had let herself into her son's room rather silently. She had been standing at the door for awhile now, dressed in her everyday robes, a shoulder bag slung to her side "Perhaps you'd care to accompany me for the day, I have a few errands to run before meeting with your Godfather"
The last part perked Draco up somewhat. He hadn't had a chance to see Snape since the end of the school year. His Godfather often had his own ways of keeping Draco out of the doldrums of life. Perhaps he could convince the man to give him yet another Boxing lesson. Yes, that would help push his mind away from Harry, give him something else to focus on. If only he knew that his mother was planning for the utter opposite.
While both the Malfoy matron and her son were getting ready to start their day, Severus was already up with the sun and starting to grow rather annoyed.
He felt progress between Harry and himself had been made. The two had come to an understanding. While it wouldn't erase years of animosity, it was a start.
Yet, despite this, Snape was feeling his old ire towards Harry start to rise. It was well past seven in the morning and the young man had yet to make his way downstairs. To say Harry's lack of morning urgency irked Snape would be an understatement. The day was meant to be spent staying busy, being productive, not dozing off under the covers.
As the Grandfather clock ticked ever closer to Eight, Snape had found what little patience that was left drain out. New start or not, Snape would be damned if he was going to let Harry stay in his room all day. Taking a moment to drain off his coffee, laced with just a bit of Fire Whiskey to get through the day, Snape stalked towards the upper floor. While he wasn't wearing his cloak, his steps still bore that same graceful and menacing stride. The man took the steps in long strides, arriving at the room far faster than he had anticipated. The man entertained the notion of knocking on the door, at the very least letting Harry know of his arrival. Perhaps even giving the boy a moment to save face. Yet the fact that Harry wouldn't even bother to rise to have breakfast with him after their supposed "reconciliation" irked that form of rationale away. His hand gripped the brass knob, and with a push, one filled with irritation, the Potions Master strode into Harry's room.
"Summer vacation or not, I do not take kindly to those who would wile away their mornings in bed" came the cold, snide tone of Snape. Part of him questioned if that was the right tone to take, as it was just far more natural for him to be demeaning towards...well anyone. However, he was spared any possible fallout from his tone of voice, as Harry was nowhere in sight.
The room almost bore no sign that there had even been an occupant within its walls. The bed was neatly made, everything crisp and wrinkle-free. Nary a speck of dirt or dust was on the walls or floor. From his vantage point he could see the bathroom, lights off, but he was willing to bet it too was spotless. He would have said that this was the work of his House Elf, but for some reason the level of cleaning seemed to speak of a more hands on approach. Pippy may be steadfast in her duties, but even she wouldn't have bothered to scrub the windows until they shone brightly. Not only that, but the biggest tip off was the bucket and rag he had given Harry just the day before, resting just off the side of the bed.
"What in Merlin's nam-" he began, but found himself cut off by a rustling coming from just behind him. Rather, not just behind him, but in the wardrobe behind him. The sound of a shifting body could be heard, trying its best to find the door in the darkness. After a few more moments of fumbling, the large wooden door swung open, and out tumbled a disheveled Harry Potter.
"I-I'm sorry Sir. I didn't know what time it was" Harry began to apologise, having barely made it out of the Wardrobe in full, a robe still tangled around his arm. After a few moments of pulling and tugging, he managed to get fully untangled from his accidental bonds, and reset the robe back into place "I had been up trying to get the room in shape that I overslept"
"Overslept in my wardrobe no less" Snape commented, making a mental note of this odd behavior "Tell me, is my bed not pleasant enough for you Potter" he tried to ask, though, and even he knew this, it sounded more like a jab thrown at the young man.
It was instantly obvious that Harry took it as such, his body posture changing in moments. Instead of the tired, slumped over shoulders of a young man who slept very little; his eyes steeled and his posture became more defensive. The muscles on the boy, the ones he could make out, tensed, as if expecting an attack of some kind.
"No. Sir" Harry suddenly spat back, as he too found himself falling back into their old routine of harsh teacher and scorned student. While his voice sounded fully ready to dive into an argument, those eyes spoke otherwise. They seemed ever slightly downtrodden.
"Damnit Severus, now is not the time to fall into this routine" he heard a voice echo in his head. He knew it was his own thoughts, his conscious playing with. Yet he could have sworn that it had sounded a lot like Lily. Perhaps his customary morning drinking was starting to get to him.
Taking a breath, Snape closed his eyes and reined in his more spiny persona. He wanted this to work, needed it to work. Harry deserved better, and Snape couldn't afford to let his old ways hurt progress. Taking yet another breath, Snape opened his eyes and looked back at Harry, who never stopped glaring at the man.
"Look, Harry. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to overreact. I was expecting you to be down for breakfast, though, in hindsight, I never told you of such things. Going forward, I would like to see you at the table before Eight A.M. There is never a good reason to spend your mornings in bed. Or, in your case, a wardrobe" the final part, surprisingly, sounded less like a lecture and more like a joke, as Snape felt the corner of his mouth twitch ever slightly as the words left his mouth.
It would seem that his words did help defuse the situation, and Harry finally relaxed, the calm returning to his body. The tension eased out of his shoulders, before the boy shuffled from side to side, looking more like a child who was itching to say something, than a young man with a sense of agency.
"What is it Potter, I can see you dying to ask me something"
"It's just" he began, an embarrassed blush starting to creep across his face "I kind of need you to leave so I can shower and change" he finally admitted, still looking down at his feet.
With a mental sigh, and a note made to try to help Harry with his apparent confidence issues, Snape acquiesced, gesturing towards the bathroom before taking his leave.
"Please, do not dawdle, as we do have a few task to accomplish today, and I would rather not have the plans backed up because you wanted to take an hour long shower" the Potions Master commented, before leaving the Harry to his privacy.
As the door closed shut, Harry released yet another breath of air, glad that Snape had finally left. It was one thing for him to be comfortable around others when they had to take showers, even then Harry was known for rising early to take his in order to avoid anybody seeing his frail and disgusting body, but for Snape to see it? He was still mortified that his Professor had seem him like that not too long ago. An involuntary shiver rushed across his body. The idea of anyone seeing him nude, it just felt wrong. Revolting. No one should have to see such things, reasoned Harry. Running his hands through the messy strands of black hair, the young wizard made way for the shower, but not before stopping by that bucket from thee night before. It was still filled with cleaning liquid, just as fresh and warm as if it had just been filled. At the bottom sat a heavy metallic object. Something he had found when cleaning out the garden. It was small, to be sure, but as he reached into the water to pull it free, the young man knew that it would be enough. Casting looks across the room, as if expecting someone to arrive and call him out on his actions, Harry gripped the object tightly, before rushing off to the bathroom, his eyes slightly cloudy, heavy with thought.
"Well, at least it was not an hour this time" Snape commented, sitting down at the table, his eyes watching as Harry finally entered into the kitchen.
True to his word, Harry wasn't in the shower for an hour, but forty minutes still seemed to be a bit excessive. Regardless, the man was at least pleased to see that Harry looked a little more awake than before. Not only that, but that the clothing he had Pippy lay out for him managed to fit as well.
"Was that meant as a joke, Sir" asked Harry, who tugged a bit at the long sleeved shirt that he found folded upon the bed. Much like the pants, which seemed to have some charm to keep them neat and crisp, his shirt felt far too dressy for just being in the house. Then again, considering that Snape said they had a few errands to run, perhaps he just wanted to make sure that he didn't look to sloppy.
"You have known me for six years Potter, since when I have ever made a joke" the man continued,his voice flat, and seemingly void of any form of self awareness or sarcasm, "Not only that, but I feel that breakfast time is never a good time for jokes. No matter what your red headed friends think otherwise" Snape continued, his hands gesturing towards a plate laid out before Harry.
With a smirk, knowing full well that Snape was talking about the twins, Fred and George, Harry took his seat, before eyeing the plate of food. It looks delicious. Thick cuts of bacon, a side of fruit, scrambled eggs with a bit of toast. It wasn't over light, nor too heavy. It was just the right amount of food for someone who hadn't been able to eat a proper meal for sometime. However, all he could do was stare at it, a pit forming in his stomach. The food looked too good, almost a lie. His mind couldn't help but recall an incident not too long ago, and it made his stomach turn all the more sour.
"Thank you Sir, but I'm not all that hungry. Those nutrient potions Mrs. Malfoy left for me are plenty enough" the lie was quick and smooth, from years of having to lie to his closest friends and even Mrs. Weasley. If he could get a lie past the Weasley matriarch, then Snape would be no problem.
There was a beat of silence, both men staring at each other. Snape, searching those eyes and that face for any hint of the truth. Harry, doing his best to maintain a poker face that had been forged from hundreds of beating at the hands of his Uncle. All he did was recall every moment his Uncle told him not to cry when he was beat, and drew upon that experience to keep his face ironclad.
"Regardless" Snape enucated after the pregnant pause, "One cannot live off of nutrient potions alone. I will allow you to go without breakfast this day. This afternoon, however, you will eat what Pippy prepares for you with no complaint. I do not particularly wish to draw the ire of your Healer, as she can be rather..particular" the older man finished, before pulling out his wand to banish the plate of food away.
As the food disappeared, Harry felt a pang run across his stomach. While it did hurt to just let such good looking food go, he didn't want to risk it. Even if Snape may be trying to make an effort towards his well being, it didn't change Harry's sense of self preservation.
Just as Snape was about to question the look that had just crossed his charges face, a rush of magic ran across his body, swiftly followed by the sound of a fire roaring to life. Both wizards cast their eyes towards the end of the hall, were the all to familiar green glow of a floo call could be seen illuminating the darkness.
"Master Snape, Mistress Malfoy is calling for you" cried out the shrill voice of Pippy from down the hall. A few moments later her tiny head peered out from behind the door, looking down at her Wizard, "Shall I tell her to call you back Master"
"No" Snape sighed, as he stalked away from the table, leaving Harry to just stare at the man as he made way for his personal office "I am coming right now. Please, Pippy, make sure Mr. Potter doesn't go wandering off, as I still wish to talk to him"
"Mr. Potter can hear you" Harry called out, feeling a bit put off by not being addressed directly, but was ultimately ignored as the door closed, leaving both himself and Pippy alone in the rest of the house.
The tiny house elf began to slowly walk over to Harry, her tunic, made from what looked to be a rather expensive silk pillow case, dangled just above her ankles. As she neared even closer, Harry could make out the symbol of Slytherin house, emblazoned upon the fabric. It was clear that, from how clean it was, Pippy cherished this pillowcase well.
"Mr. Potter will get nowhere with Master Snape with a mouth like that" pippy admonished, leaping up into the chair to stand at least chest level with the wizard "Though, Pippy does approve of Master Potters cleaning skill. Are you sure you are a wizard"
A chuckle escaped from Harry's mouth, one that slowly turned into a full blown laugh. Listening to Pippy's words did have a fun way of putting things into perspective. Outside of a few select moments, magic really only existed for Harry within the walls of Hogwarts. Beyond that, for all intents and purposes, he lived like a Muggle. Hell, magic had only been a part of his life for six years, so perhaps Pippy was right to question such things.
"Yes, Pippy" harry managed to get out, his chuckles dying down, "I am a wizard. Though that doesn't mean I don't know how to handle myself without magic. I reckon I could give your gardening skills a run for their money. Without using a drop of magic"
A crude smile, one that took up most of the House Elf's face, began to break out across Pippy. She extended a hand towards Harry, who took it warmly.
"A consider yourself challenged Mr. Potter. I have never met a wizard who worked with his hands. Well, outside of Master Snape of course. You are a funny wizard Mr. Potter"
"Yeah" Harry sighed,recalling those same words from both Griphook and the centaurs within the Forbidden Forest, "I tend to get that a lot"
The quip from Harry did not go unheard by Snape, who merely rolled his eyes before shutting the door to the office, his wards flaring to life to prevent any listening ears from hearing his conversation. After years of working as a double agent, Snape learned to not only value his privacy, but also to protect it with all cost.
"It is nice to see that Harry hasn't driven you mad just yet" came the calm voice of Narcissa, whose head was hovering within the green flames of his floo.
Snape pulled up a chair, waving his head in the air to send a tumbler of scotch floating his way. The glass nestled in his hand, and barely had a splash of FireWhsikey inside of it before Snape was tipping it down his throat.
"If you say so. It has only been one day since we had a little talk together. While I will try to do my best to see Lily in him, I have a feeling that Potter won't be making that easy"
"What makes you say that: his closest friend questioned, not keeping her annoyance at Snape's day drinking off her face
"Well, he is terrible when it comes to getting up before the crack of dawn. Not only that, but it seems that the bed I have provided for him is not as comfortable as a wardrobe. He was sleeping in there, after he apparently spent the night scrubbing every inch of the room clean"
"And did you think to ask him about any of these odd behaviors" came the simple statement from Narcissa, who looked as if that was the most simple of things to do.
"No. I was too busy apologising for getting upset at the brat. I have never seen Potter look both defensive and afraid at the sametime. In class, whenever I berate him, he usual takes it with a straight face. Here, it is like he is just more afraid of-"
"What you will do to him" Narcissa finished, before taking a moment to sigh in both frustration and worry, "Think about it Severus, he has spent his entire life at the hands of a monster. At the hands of a grown man whom he could never escape from. At Hogwarts, when facing down you, it is only for a few hours, and he knows he is protected by the schools laws from physical harm. Here, in your home however, it is a different story. Take care with how you handle him, or you could just be digging yourself into an ever deeper grave" warned Mrs. Malfoy, who made sure to level Snape with a stern glare.
Snape, who couldn't met her gaze, instead busied himself with pouring one more shot of whiskey, before banishing the bottle away
"That was my second and last one of the day" he lied quickly, glad she wasn't around to see the four shots he had with his morning coffee, "I will try to do my best with Potter. I can't make a single promise though. He doesn't make things easy"
"Well I don't see how anything would be easy if you were plastered most of the day. Please, be sure to take a Sober Up potion before Draco and myself arrive"
"Draco is coming over. WIth Potter here" came a shout from Snape, his mind playing back just what sort of shenanigans those two got into at Hogwarts when they have butted heads "Are you trying to cause another Wizarding War with those two at the center"
"Stop being so overdramatic Sev" Narcissa laughed, "I am well aware of how both of those boys act around each other. Also, as a mother, I also have more intuition on the subject than you could ever have"
"But you are not around them during the school year, you have no idea how often those two try to fight one another"
"Oh, I am well aware. Just like I am well aware of Draco's reasoning for being bitter towards Potter. Not only that, but seeing as your house guest only has yourself and Pippy for company, I figured that he could use a somewhat familiar face. Not only that, but I want to play a hunch I have"
"Not one of your famous hunches. Last time you had one of those I ended up trapped in detention with James Potter"
"Which wasn't as bad as you through it would be. Regardless, we will be over in a hour, so I would take this time to warn Harry about our arrival. Besides, i want to check up on him one more time. Speaking of which, at some point you are going to have to talk to him about those cuts on his arms. Better to do so now, while he is somewhat open to talking about his health"
"Mr. Potter would never be willing to discuss anything like that with me. Moment or no, we haven't reached that level yet"
"Then offer him something in exchange. Tell him about something he would love to know about. Like Quidditch, or Wizards Chess"
"Right" snorted Snape, "Because those are subjects that I know all about"
"Right, I forgot you are dreadfully boring. Well, whatever you talked about within that moment you mentioned used that. What did you both end up talking about anyway"
Snape looked at the fireplace, or rather, looked just above it, at the photo of Lily. His Lily, staring right back at him.
"Oh. I see" Narcissa stated, a knowing smile coming across her face "Use that then. Tell him about his mother"
"I will try. I will see your shortly Cissa" Snape finished the conversation,watching the floo go out in a puff of smoke. Walking over to his desk, the not so young man took a seat, before reaching into a drawer to pull out a worn leather book. Turning the cover over, he looked at the various photos he had secreted away. Perhaps one of these would make for a good trade to get Harry to open up to him. Or, at the very least, to be civil upon Draco's arrival. He just had to figure out which one was more important.