Saith

by Leechcraft

Summary: Harry has had dreams since he could remember. Oh not of Voldemort but of Vampires. Two in particular. What happens when he finds out they're not just dreams? Creature/VampireHarry. OC WARNING. Slash. D/s. AU SORRY THIS STORY IS ABANDONED. (It's kinda crap, lol. I might do a rewrite and finish it someday but probably not. It was basically my first fanfic/first book. )

4. Chapter 4

To those reading and who have been chomping at the bit for an update. Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry. I know I'm late. I missed my self imposed deadline and I have no excuse. Here is an extra, nearly two thousand word chapter in apology. I hope you all won't expect one this long from now on as i don't think i will ever do it again.

First is just want to say that I hate OCs. I won't read anything with an oc warning, and if Harry or any other character suddenly becomes involved with one I will stop reading the story. There are a few exceptions. Some really great stories out there have ocs and despite that they number among my favorites but most ocs are horrid and i just can't get into a story with an entirely new character because of them. Because of that I completely understand if you're hesitant to continue reading my story because of Hylaarr, Osset're and the bitchy Seren of course. I just want to maintain that my characters WILL NOT become focal points nor will this fic become a personal novel hiding behind fan fiction. They will not be main characters, only supporting in the fact that they are essential to Harry's mental and emotion well being, (Hylaarr and Osset're), and they WILL NOT become romantic interests, though who knows how far 'lessons' in being a proper Submissive will go. For some reason the beginning has been dominated by my characters and I know I haven't spent enough time building Harry's. I will strive to do better. In apology Harry's more, well Harry here and there are some familiar faces we all either love or hate or love to hate…hmm yeah.

As to reviews, thanks again. I know I said I don't care about reviews, and really I don't, but starting a story is hard and I can't help but appreciate feedback. I guess I just didn't realize how it felt to receive a review. Like getting a present and a compliment wrapped up together. I've read nearly every fan fiction, (Harry Potter) that was worth reading that I could find but I can count the times I've reviewed on one hand. I'm going to have go back and reread everything! I need to express my appreciation!

Disclaimer: I own nothing you might recognize from The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. Anything you do, (smirk) belongs to Douglas Adams.

Also hate flashbacks. I'm a bloody hypocrite I know.

Chapter Four

October 25th Early Morning

Two years later.

Harry's eyes traced the path the ant was taking, watching as it slowly traversed the cobbled walk, climbing over strewn gravel and broken sticks that stood in its path. Frowning in intense concentration he reached out with a breath of magic and 'smelled' the air. Then slowly, with infinite care, he 'pulled' and bits of water raced through it to congregate in a small puddle directly in its path. Well it was a small puddle to Harry, but rather like a large lake to the ant. Harry watched curiously as the ant milled around in shocked dismay before choosing to go left and following the edge of the water around to the other side where he picked up the line he had been going in as if it were a paved road that only he could see. Using that small bit of magic left a tingling feeling racing along underneath his skin. Harry liked to think the magic was waking up and perhaps stretching when it did that, as if it was getting ready for the day and anxious to start it off right. His lips quirked at the thought and touched that cup of liquid light asking it to 'fill' him. He immediately felt a strangely happy affirmative and suddenly his pulse was pounding as if he had been running for his life, and his head was swimming as if he had hung upside down and let it all pool there then abruptly stood up. He could feel the magic, coursing through his bloodstream, tangling at his pulse, pounding in his temples, and occasionally reaching out and lightly 'touching' things around him. The old oak tree he was tucked up against, the water in the puddle he had called, the various birds that laughed and sung to the rising sun, the endless array of insects and life that scurried about the surface of the ground, and then down into the earth and touching the endless life there before reigning itself back, sinking back into Harry's skin and blood and then deep down to fall back into the cup that held it.

Harry sighed and opened his eyes. He loved doing that. He did it every morning and could feel his control growing. Magic was nearly effortless now, and although it sometimes took a bit of logical thinking, Harry could do just about anything he wanted. Well anything he wanted within a certain time frame and only in a certain place. Currently he was in the courtyard of F.P Betelgeuse Elementary School and it was about an hour until school started and he had been here for the last twenty minutes. The reason Harry came so early was because the Dursleys didn't feel he could behave enough like a normal person to ride in the car. Therefore Harry had to wake up early enough that he had the time for the 45 minute walk. Oh, he had tried to leave closer to when school started but the Dursley's enjoyed making unreasonable demands just to make him late, only to punish him when the school called to mention it, and so he had taken the easier course and finished his chores and left before they even woke up. You see the Dursley's had never wanted for him to go to school so when this past September arrived and Harry was unceremoniously dragged out the door with Dudley and dropped off, Vernon growling at him to find his own way there from now on, Harry was the least to say surprised. Despite the rather abrupt way it happened, Harry took to learning like Dudley to chocolate. He was astonished that there were adults who devoted everyday of their life to answering the curiosity and questions of little children. The fact that his professors actually wantedHarry to speak, answer and reply was the most uncomfortable thing he had experienced and it suddenly occurred to him that perhaps the Dursleys weren't the nicest sort of people.

But Harry knew better than to actually do well in school, at least on anything that would be reported back to the Dursleys. If they had any inkling of how much he loved it there, they would be sure to make it so he couldn't go, most likely in a rather nasty way that forced him to call in sick. Harry would never do anything that might jeopardize the few hours of freedom he had, and made sure to ignore the teachers, fumble tests and never turn in homework. This led to punishments by the professors and calls home, but the punishments were laughable in comparison to what Harry was used to, some were even enjoyable, and the calls home, while giving Vernon an excuse to chuck a fist his way, seemed to please the Dursleys. Indeed they wore a satisfied grin when his monthly report came and refrained from any drastic punishments although that might have been due to rather obvious new fear of being found out. Harry of course would never tell. Despite of the realization that his parents must have hated him something awful he was determined to follow their wishes and remain with the Dursleys. Harry assumed it was because of the fact that they wanted him to stay with family that they had left him here and Harry bowed before that desire, despite the odd resentment he felt now and then. You didn't get to choose your family after all. If you could they would have never have chosen him.

Harry sighed and closed his eyes; and like it had been for a little over a year the memory played out again in his mind. Harry had been cleaning Dudley's room as the six year old sat at his brand new computer enthralled at a game he had just gotten. It was obvious Dudley was loosing and each time he did he grew more and more frustrated. Finally the computer beeped at him, signaling another failure and Dudley had smashed his fist into the screen in anger. The computer died immediately and when he couldn't get it to turn back on he threw a fit, which naturally cause Petunia to come running. Dudley of course blamed it on Harry and Petunia had taken the hot iron she had been using to Harry who had promptly collapsed at the pain. Vernon had taken his rage out on Harry when he returned but had finally stopped abruptly and dragged the bleeding and burned six year old out to the car where he had hunched over the wheel driving, muttering lowly to himself. Then suddenly, without slowing down, opened the door and pushed him out. That had been horrid. Tumbling from a moving car, falling down a steep incline into wooded area where he lay unable to move until unconsciousness claimed him. He had awoken a bit later still where he had stopped rolling and moaned still unable to move. That was when a figure, a woman, had moved into view, and stood staring at him for the longest time. He remembered murmuring 'Mum?' in disbelief and nearly crying in happiness when she had moved forward, crouched beside him, and a hand and gently caressed his forehead. He remembered her smell, of lilies and vanilla. It had felt so good, almost like being loved. It was the first time anyone had every touched him in that way and he had started crying. Finally his hard work, taking the punishments, the chores, the biting belittlement, had paid off. His parents had returned! His mum! She was going to take him home and love him and whisper that he had been good and it was over. Falling into a true sleep Harry had been lit up with a happiness that ate away every dark memory, every lingering pain, every scar, and melted them turning them into grateful love. But when he woke again, he was in the cupboard, new wounds Vernon had clearly inflicted upon finding him there aching and he had collapsed into silent tears, for once wanting to give up. Wanting to die. For the first time he had hated. Hated himself, hated living, hated the Dursleys, and more hated his parents. That night had haunted him since playing over and over again whenever he closed his eyes. It had been his sixth birthday that day.

Laughter rang out, causing Harry to blink and turn towards it in suspicion. He sighed when he caught sight of children, a few faces recognizable as his classmates. There was one downside to school and that was the children he had to attend it with. They all hated him which wasn't new or surprising but Harry had enough bullying from Dudley and when he received it from nearly every child in his grade it made it more difficult to tolerate. They laughed at his glasses, his small frame, his stubbornly maintained silence, and the submissive behavior. It didn't help that Dudley called him freak just for laughs and ordered him around like usual whenever a teacher turned away. He was different, he was a freak and everyone could sense it. Even the other children sometime singled for bullying sneered at him and called him names, as if when they did they were able to forget that they had ever been in his position. He had once caught a sympathetic gaze and held it in silent challenge. That challenge had failed and the boy had scurried away without a look back. Harry had kept his eyes down ever after that.

Sighing Harry watched the children arrive, and only when he saw Dudley entering the building with a Piers Polkin did he follow, eyes down and shoulders hunched as he walked quickly past anyone who noticed him. A few times he was shoved into the wall, laughter tinkling back to him, but he said nothing, made no move to object or chastise, and finally he made it to his classroom, where he edged along the wall and around the room to sit at the front by the window. It helped being near a teacher, students couldn't do much harm for fear of reprisal, but it did make it more difficult to ignore the professors some of whom still tried, even after a month of failure, to get him to participate, or just say something. Harry never did though and now most thought him too shy or too simple to even bother with. They were paid very little here, and therefore most didn't feel the need to go the extra mile for no reward.

John James Peter was unfortunately one of those exceptions. He was a rather pale man, with reddish blond hair and amber eyes that while weary more often then not were filled with kindness. His voice was very gentle and he was infinitely patient with every child in his care. He always entered the class with a quiet good morning and never left without a pleasant have a good day. He was in charge of reading and writing, and nearly every child had blossomed under his gentle hand. He never shouted, never reprimanded with more than a frown and a mild comment, and only a few times had he actually had to follow through on a punishment, which was inevitably to come see him at the end of the day and talk about the misbehavior that had occurred. Harry couldn't ever imagine this man with an angry bone in his body let alone a vicious one. Harry hated him.

He always tried to meet Harry's eyes when he entered the classroom, and as the desk reserved for the Professor sat in the corner directly across from Harry he used that as an excuse to ask his how he was every morning. Harry never replied of course, but that never fazed the stubborn man. He would merely smile and say it looked as if Harry was tired today, or 'Harry, you look as if your having a good day.', or 'I wish I could be this awake in the morning!' with a rueful chuckle and a smiling face before he would move on to the day's lesson. During that lesson he always followed the same path in observing each student, pointing out a helpful tip, whispering a 'well done' and often pulling a piece of candy of Dudley's hand with a chuckle saying he would leave it on the desk when he left. He always ended with Harry where he would crouch beside him and show him an example of how to write his cursive this way or whisper that the definition of this word was similar to that word. Even though Harry ignored him he would always say 'Well done, Harry. A very good effort today.' before moving on and starting the next part of his lesson which was always story time. Harry always sneered when he said it, like it was a birthday party or a piece of cake. Harry hated listening to his voice and refused to even acknowledge the discussion after every story though he grudgingly admitted that the stories were good.. This wasn't even a part of the act Harry maintained to fool the Dursleys. Harry truly despised this adult and if he had lived anywhere but at the Dursleys he would have schemed to get himself out of school to avoid him alone.

You see Harry didn't trust him. No one could be that mellow. No one never was angry or never raised their voice. No one loved children whom they had never met before and didn't belong to them the instant they walked into a room. Harry was certain that at home this man was a very different person. Perhaps even a violent one at times. Harry shuddered to think what this man got up to if he wasn't. He didn't even want to know. Harry was aware that the way he felt was rather unreasonable, but he couldn't help it. The memory of the first week here also haunted him, not as much as his sixth birthday, but nearly.

Harry had made the mistake of smiling at the kind professor on the first day of school and he knew it was a mistake the moment it happened. The small bit of smug triumph in his eyes said something, though Harry couldn't tell what. After that Professor Peter was nearly constantly at his side. A helpful hit here. A compliment there. Harry could nearly feel the jealous gaze of Dudley from across the room and cringed at what he knew would happen when he got home. He was right. Vernon was exceedingly upset that 'the boy' had succeeded in charming the new Professor before his precious son could and Harry had limped into the classroom late the next day. Immediately the Professor's head had snapped up, almost reminding him a bit of Hylaarr, and an angry look had ever so briefly crossed his face. Dudley had cackled in glee from his seat but the look was gone so fast that Harry was sure he had imagined it. The professor had gently asked Harry to take his seat and had spent the entire class watching him intently. Just before he had left he had asked Harry to visit him after school to discuss his tardiness. Dudley had left for home that day, nearly bouncing with the news.

When Harry had arrived at Professor Peter's office he had been quietly asked to sit. Then, concern in his posture the professor had asked him about his home life. About the Dursleys. Harry had kept his eyes down, and answered every question with a brief but practiced reply. He knew what this sudden interest in him meant. Professor Peter though he was being abused. Harry was panicking inside. His mind raced around in little circles. He had enjoyed his first day more than anything in his life. The professors, the lessons, the freedom was heady. Harry knew if his home life was suddenly investigated the Dursleys would find out that he had fouled it up in barely two days. They would find someway to make sure he never went back. The professor somehow had picked up on Harry's terror, though he couldn't fathom how, and had gently whispered that anything he said would be kept between the two of them. That he wouldn't be in trouble, that it was OK to tell the truth.

And he had believed him. He had thought that if he told him, he would back off. He would know that Harry was a freak that must be punished, despite how harsh those punishments were, and then leave him alone. When the Professor had asked him if his relatives hurt him, if he was afraid of them, he had nodded, confirmed it, practically screamed a yes with that guilty nod. And the Professor had said he understood and he had sighed in relief and left nearly shaking with exhaustion. When he arrived home the Dursley's had smugly told him to stay in his cupboard, punishment for being late to class that morning and late home that afternoon. The next day everything was fine. His professor kept his distance, though he still watched him.

But when Harry had arrived home he knew everything had gone wrong. The Dursleys were acting. There was a stranger in their home. Suddenly Dudley's second bedroom was being called his and Petunia was fawning over him as if he were Dudley. Vernon had told him, in a soft gruff tone that the nice lady had some questions for him. He was to answer honestly and everything would be fine. Vernon's eyes said differently. They said if he even uttered a word against them nothing could stop his wrath once he got a hold of Harry. And so he had lied. Of course he had lied. Even without the threat of uncle Vernon's rage he would have done so. He had said that he loved his Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon and that he had only said he was hurting from a beating because he wanted to get out of punishment for being tardy. Harry said that he had been late because he had thrown a fit over what his Aunt had served for breakfast and she had made him stay and finish it before school. He had said this in a rather bratty but guilty tone and whispered apologies. He had said, tears in his eyes, that it hadn't occurred to him that his family could get in trouble over his lie. He had remained quiet all though the stern lecture the lady had given him and didn't move when she apologized to the Dursleys. He never questioned it when he was told to sit down at the table and eat dinner with them. He hadn't even blinked when they told him to sleep in Dudley's second bedroom. And when Petunia, told him she would wake him to take Dudley and Harry to school then had kissed him good night, he hadn't even shuddered.

The rest of the week the professors were angry with him. He had received quite a few vague lectures on lying from a few and he had avoided Professor Peter's disappointed and worried looks. Friday, he had finally been cornered by the Professor who had firmly taken his arm and pulled him gently into his office. He had apologized, asked 'why he had lied?' He had asked if anything hurt and said that this time he wouldn't tell anyone, he would just make it better. He had a strange look in his eye when he said that but Harry couldn't puzzle it out. Harry had sat watching him the entire time. He had said nothing. He had wanted to cry, but more he had wanted to yell. He wanted this strange man, with his odd calm facade and painful kindness to just tell him what he wanted. To reveal he had an alternate motive, that he had wanted to hurt Harry or that he wanted something from him. His eyes said he did, but Harry couldn't for the life of him figure out what it was. Harry had felt anger and hatred and he had for once in his entire life let it out. He had said 'I hate you.' He had watched as the Professor had paled and stopped his gentle coaxing. Harry waited for the anger. The rebuke. The slap to his face or anything! Professor Peter had simply looked sad and broken and had whispered 'I know.' And Harry had yelled. He had stood up and screamed. 'You don't know! You can't even possible understand. Pain? What do you know of pain?' He had sneered. He had touched his magic and let it curl around in his fists but left it there. 'What, you think I don't deserve it?' He had felt tears start to fall. He had fallen back into his seat and mourned the loss of something precious. 'I trusted you,' he had whispered. And Professor Peter had touched his hand, and caressed the palm, and his tears had slipped to fall on their entwined hands. 'Harry, I'm so sorry. Forgive me.' The Professor had been on his knees begging Harry. Harry couldn't function at the wrongness of that. 'Don't ever talk to me again,' he had ordered. Then he had left and never looked back. He had never spoken a word to another professor again.

When Harry had gotten home Vernon had taken him into the garage. All Harry remembered of that was pain. When he had arrived in the vampire's chambers he had left the bench and curled up next to a sleeping Osset're and cried until he fell asleep. He never wanted to trust anyone ever again.

October 24th Morning

Remus John Lupin carefully collected everything he would need for the day's classes, putting it into his bag, and placing a trembling hand on top of it. The full moon was three days gone but he couldn't bring himself to call in sick. Everything in his body, even or perhaps especially the wolf, insisted that he had to watch over Harry. A sudden tightening around his chest and heart, lines of magic burning inside of him, had him jerking back and shaking his head in shocked pain. The wolf snarled at the constraints and Remus let it rise just enough for it to coax them to release them, both Remus and the wolf. He stood there breathing harshly and weakly scolded himself for forgetting. The magic bindings, placed by professional healers, were all that kept him from grabbing Harry and fleeing with him far, far away. The magic of those bindings knew it too and so were all to quick to remind him that he was a prisoner, that he'd better remember it, that he, Remus John Lupin was not to have contact, influence, or in any other way approach one Harry James Potter, The Boy Who Lived. The wolf sneered at the title and grumbled viciously about living to be hurt by rabid pack. Remus laughed weakly and 'touched' the other mind inside his with an soothing 'hand,' apologizing for both causing his mind mate to defend them and being unable to avenge the pain of the last of their pack. For the past 5 years, ever since the day the mind healers put the bindings on him, he had been able to 'hear' the wolf. At first he had been frantic with worry, afraid of the darkness that seemed to be growing. Afraid that the mind healers were right and he was going insane. But the wolf had agreed with him on the issue of Harry, the belief that they should be raising their pup, and he had pushed back against the magic binding them and allowed Remus to be able to actually think about Harry without pain. It was the wolf who had coaxed him out of his grief and whispered that they needed to leave, that their pack was in danger by the very fact that they weren't there to protect the weaker other half. It was Remus who had convinced him that they had to do it right, and together they both convinced the mind healers that they were better, that they were right and Sirius Black hadkilled Peter Pettigrew, betrayed the pack, and was now dead, along with Lily and James. That of course they knew they couldn't get custody of Harry, the wolf had to be restrained by Remus during that session, that they knew Harry was better off in the muggle world with family that loved him and of course they knew that his condition would be a danger to Harry should he even try. Together they had walked out of St. Mungos basement ward, privately funded by Albus Dumbledore, and left the wizarding world altogether. Together they had searched and Remus hid the fact that they were searching, and together they had finally found the Dursley's, Harry's muggle relatives, whom the Ministry had said in a press conference had agreed to take Harry in and give him a loving stable home until he was ready to return to them again.

That had been three years ago. Remus had watched the Dursley's carefully for months waiting for a sight of Harry. As he was unable to even turn down the street they lived on he had to wait until they left and then stalk them on their outings. It was a year before he even saw the child. The four year old had followed his aunt in the most Submissive pose Remus had ever seen. The wolf confirmed that Harry was indeed acting like a submissive but growled that his attitude leaned more towards a mate then a pup. Remus had worried at that, fretfully thinking that perhaps the Dursleys weren't loving guardians as had always believed. Indeed he had been sure they were wonderful, as they spoiled their own son outrageously and couldn't be convinced that he was badly in need of correction if you paid them. Remus had despaired a bit as he observed this, sure that the boy would be spoiled nearly unredeemable by the time he had reached Hogwarts. It had been Dumbledore's idea that in the muggle world he wouldn't get a large ego but Remus had feared that he had made a rather drastic mistake. Until he saw Harry. Then he was sure that he had only in a rather different way. The child was small and thin, clearly malnourished as Remus well knew the signs. He was dressed in over sized rags and squinted at everything when his eyes weren't cast seriously down to the ground. The reason for the outing soon became clear as they let the child into the optometrists office and led him out again a half hour later wearing slightly used over sized black frames, Harry's green eyes wide as he took in the suddenly clearer world. The wolf had snarled in rage and immediately took control, as much as he could outside the full moon not that Remus really tried to stop him. They were only a few yards away when the magic bindings reacted and clamped so tightly around their heart that it stopped. Remus had awoken in a muggle hospital. Apparently the muggles believed he had had what they called a heart attack and had revived him. Remus had been very grateful but also nearly hysterical with worry when he realized that he couldn't get close to Harry. That it was impossible and Harry would be forced to stay with the Dursleys until he could figure it out.

He had spent the next two years devoting himself to finding a way to get to Harry. Day, nights, weeks of research only lessoned the magic bindings. That coupled with the wolf allowed him to continue to search for a more permanent cure and temporary way for him to see the child, speak to him, reassure himself that he had only been neglected, that physical abuse had never happened. It was shocking how simple it was once he thought of it. He changed his identity. Magically, of course, and suddenly a new face, body, and person by the name of Alex started doing yard work on Privet Drive. Never for number 4 though and it was soon clear why. Harry did all that. It was the only time he ever saw him and the wolf howled in rage at the obvious ill treatment of their pup. What also became clear was that Privet Drive was being monitored by the ministry. Not long after he had started his odd career move Aurors started popping in, looking at everything suspiciously. Their magic had recorded a dark creature on Privet Drive and they were there to investigate. That led Remus to reluctantly pull back, both the wolf and his own heart protesting. They couldn't be found out. If that happened they might never escape St. Mungos again. Bloody Hell they might not even get sent to St. Mungos. The wolf had thought about that for a moment then snarled in what seemed like anticipation of revenge. Remus had shuddered and shied away from that. He wasn't ready to face Sirius yet. He wasn't strong enough.

The ministry magic was impassible. Dumbledore had been alerted to the presence of a dark creature on Privet Drive and had personally strengthened them. Remus was forced to contemplate other options. Finally he had learned of the elementary school. John James Peter had been born. John, his middle name, James, for Harry's father and Harry's middle name, and Peter for poor Peter Pettigrew 6 years gone. He had applied and been taken on as a temp. That had worked out well but there was a problem. Harry wasn't there. He had searched other schools, temping, and finally was forced to conclude that Harry didn't attend any of them. The Dursleys had denied him education. The wolf was enraged and they had come up with a plan. Posing as the muggle ministry they had written to inquire why their nephew didn't attend school, asking if there was a medial issue that needed to be added to their records and if there was could they have his doctor write up a diagnosis and file it with them for his permanent record? Not two days later Harry James Potter was enrolled at F.P. Betelgeuse Elementary for the following school year. Harry would be seven. Then he had researched each professor at the school and finally filed an anonymous complaint against Professor Liam Grey, for suspicion of pederasty. This ate at his conscious but the wolf was able to convince him that it was necessary.. A week later John James Peter was hired as the new Writing Professor.

When he had walked into the first class of the day and found his pup sitting by the window closest to the desk he was filled with a happiness so profound he couldn't keep it to himself. He pushed it into his character, trusting the secret identity as a kind professor to mask it. In truth his attention never wavered from the messy haired boy in the corner. And when his circuit of the room ended with the small child he had breathed in his scent, and watched him carefully for any sign of pain or discomfort. And he had found none. The boy's scent had been normal, and he had sighed in relief and set to helping the quiet child with his class work. The boy didn't say much but he listened avidly and was quick to grasp the lesson as if he already knew it. Remus had gently praised him and was rewarded with a small shy smile. The wolf crowed in smug triumph, pleased that their pup had recognized them as pack and was a step closer to trusting them. Remus indulged the wolf and went back to teaching nearly giddy with relief and happiness. Everything was going to work out alright. He was patient with the rest of the class but couldn't help but focusing on his pup. His pack mate. A child he had loved since he was born and was the last of those he could love without guilt. He left that day at peace for the first time in almost six years. Little did he know that it was the beginning of the end.

When he walked into class the second day and his pup wasn't there a pall of foreboding drifted over him and he set distractedly to the lesson, worry clawing at his gut. When the door opened and in walked his pup he could smell the change instantly. He could smell blood. His pup, his child, his Harry was in pain and the wolf was so enraged that Remus lost complete control for a moment before he gently pushed him back down, promising, vowing to fix it. He asked the boy to find his seat as gently as he could and set to the lesson, desperately planning ahead. Watching his pup throughout the morning he came to the conclusion that the boy had been whipped, and not very skillfully as a few lashes must have broken the skin enough to bleed. Also his leg had been hurt which was noticeable only to Remus as the limp was so slight Harry probably didn't even realize it was there. Grimly he finished lessons and gathered his things. Before leaving he asked Harry to come see him before leaving school to discuss his tardiness, noticing the look of glee on the fat face of Harry's cousin. Frowning he contemplated how Dudley fit into the abuse in the Dursley household. Obviously he was overfed, overindulged and unrestricted which could be considered abuse but compared to Harry was merely favoritism. He would have to look into that as well though. Even in his state he couldn't condone leaving a child in an abusive household despite the fact that he wasn't aware of his abuse.

When Harry quietly came into his office later that afternoon he asked him to sit, concerned at the scent of fresh blood, the more pronounced limp, the smell of pain. Harry had taken his seat with a cautious glance around that had Remus and the wolf tense with rage. Then Remus had quietly asked about the Dursleys, noting the flair of fear in those bright green eyes before they dropped to look submissively at the floor. He could smell the panic in the boy's subtly quickened breathing, his faster beating heart. But amazingly Harry never twitched a single hair and his breathing had soon eased into a regulated pattern. He was soon answering Remus's questions with respectful but firm replies of 'I love the Dursleys, Professor Peter, and 'I have my own room, Professor and though I have to do chores and Dudley picks on me sometimes, I really am happy.' in such an earnest tone that Remus nearly believedhim despite the growling of the wolf; angry, frustrated, and a little proud of their pup, in the back of his mind, and the scent of blood and pain in his nose. Remus was insistent and had pressed Harry for more details, asked more questions, and then repeated them to catch the child in a mistake. He never had. The boy was perfection at the art of misdirection, body language, and lying in such a way you had to know the truth to know he was. Despite all this the wolf wasn't fooled and neither was Remus. He had been best friends with his father after all; a man who, while a blunt aggressive Griffindor, was as accomplished with lying to get out of trouble as his son seemed to be. He watched at the small signs of panic and hysteria, nearly invisible on this child, wound Harry tighter and tighter as the interrogation went on. The wolf whispered of his fear and his pain and his trembling, though that soon became visible too. Finally Remus couldn't torture him any longer. He had whispered to him that anything he said would be kept between the two of them, hoping for something concrete, perhaps the confession of the beating that still bled, heavy in his nostrils. Anything that he could take to the Headmaster of F.P. Betelgeuse and insure that his pup was immediately removed from the Dursleys care. He had reassured his pup that he wouldn't be in trouble for telling, snarling at the thought, that it was OK to tell the truth. It was OK to trust him he whispered in his mind and that thought seemed to echo over and over again until the wolf snapped at him to pay attention.

Remus had heeded his mind mate and leaned forward, ducking his head, and looked at Harry then carefully coaxed his eyes to meet his eyes and holding them pulled both their heads up. 'Do the Dursleys hurt you, child?' he had asked and physically restrained himself from touching Harry. 'Are you afraid of them?' He had held Harry's eyes and his breath, just waiting. The room had spun before the boy had nodded, ever so slightly in what seemed resignation and almost relief. The wolf hadn't commented on Remus's assumption and merely had growled, snarled, and demanded to be let loose. The Dursleys would pay and their pup would be safe. Remus had ignored him and had nearly cried at the realization of what was just confirmed his pup had been abused. He had been taken from his dead mother's grasp and forced into the grasp of another who had resented it and had hurt him because of it. And Dumbledore! Remus snarled silently. Dumbledore must have known. How could he not? All the lies, the 'Remus, you must believe me, there is no way Sirius is innocent,' the 'It pains me to say this, my boy, but have you considered your grief is overwhelming you? You need help, child. Please let an old friend see to it you have it.' and finally the 'Harry is better off in the muggle world. He will be raised with loving relatives instead of an awestruck wizarding family, and when you see him again he will be ready to listen to the tragic details of what killed his parents.' All the lies of a controlling old fool who had too much magic and too much power. He had merely wanted a pawn, the realization dawned suddenly on Remus and he had trouble controlling his rage, the wolf's rage. He had known that Harry would be at best, neglected and had thought it was all for the greater good, the better to insure the loyalty of The Boy Who Lived to Albus Dumbledore, Mugwump Extraordinaire. 'I understand.' he had whispered and Harry's sigh of relief had suddenly brought his attention back to him. Feeling unable to control the wolf any longer he had let the boy go. Looking back he knew that had been the biggest mistake of his life.

The next day the Headmaster had come by. 'It seems the boy was lying,' he had said. 'I told you, you were jumping to conclusions, Peter. Young professors like you usually do, before they have the experience to weed out the fiction from the lies.' He had looked a stunned Remus in the eye. 'Because of your youth I will say I understand, people make mistakes, but I do want you to learn from this, boy. Accusations of child abuse are a serious thing, and for it to come to light the boy was lying, well I assume you can figure out how it will reflect on the school.' With that he had left, and Remus had collapsed as his world had crumbled.

Failure had eaten at him all week. Harry had avoided him, avoided everyone, and hadn't spoken more than a word to anyone. The other professors assumed he was properly ashamed and approved. He had heard that a number of them had talked with him. They had lectured him on lying and Remus had mourned that the those reprimands, while perhaps justified, would never be heard in the context the were being given. He had watched his pup intently, but breathed relief when he hadn't come to school bleeding or in pain. Perhaps the incident had stopped the abuse. Perhaps the Dursleys were so terrified they wouldn't attempt it again. He had hoped but knew deep in his heart that he hoped in vain. Once the dust settled, and they weren't so scared they would hurt his pup again and this time it would be infinitely worse. Finally Friday had come and Remus was determined to help his pup the only way he could. If the child must stay in such a situation surely he could at least ease the pain as it came. At the end of the day he had cornered Harry and gently pulled the submissive child into his office. Aching, he had apologized. He had said that he had been sure things would be investigated carefully and the truth uncovered. Harry had merely stared at him, completely blank in expression and scent. Carefully unaccusing he had asked why the child had denied the abuse. Why had he lied? When he received no answer he had pushed forward in his plan and asked if anything hurt. He couldn't smell any pain but any child so terrorized must have a high threshold. If he had something that could be healed perhaps the trust that had been lost could be slowly restored. The secret of magic was often a cure for anything. He had asked if anything hurt and after pausing had whispered that he wouldn't tell anyone this time, he would just make it better. The thought that perhaps the child was hurt too badly for his rather extensive spell work had crossed his mind and he had pushed it away, not wanting doubt to show in his eyes. He poured out every ounce of love he had for the boy into his eyes instead. He tried willing Harry to trust him. To take that brave step forward, like the Griffindor he knew he would be, and accept help from someone who so disparately wanted to give it. When he had received no answer for long minutes he had started to reassure him but stopped at the low words spoken as if the full moon had risen and gripped him in her relentless grasp. 'I hate you.' He had felt the blood drain away. The words echoed in his heart and he knew that they were true and he had mourned that he had been the one who had hurt the boy enough to say them. 'I know.' he had whispered in despair and watched as the boy's face had twisted into the most hurt pained expression any werewolf could imagine. And Harry had yelled. He had screamed. 'You don't know! You can't even possibly understand!' Pain had gripped Remus. Pain for his pup, pain for his failure. 'Pain.' Harry had sneered, so like those times when Severus had been so humiliated that he had cried. 'What do you know of pain?' What indeed. Remus had begun to suspect that he had never truly known pain before this moment. Then like wind, like scent, like angry rain magic had filled the room, pouring from the seven year old child in front of him. It hadn't danced and waved in an uncontrolled aura around him either but had 'answered' and 'obeyed' and screamed silent rage at the source of Harry's pain. The only visible source it could see. It had been a sharp blade in Harry's hands and Remus had felt as if he were held at wand point by Dumbledore only the child never moved. Indeed he had begun to cry and had fallen into the chair and curled up into himself silent sobs tearing Remus apart. 'I trusted you.' he had whispered and Remus knew he had lost something precious. He had knelt, mourning that loss desperate to do anything to get it back. He had touched his pup for the first time in six years and taken his hand. He had started to sob and knew it was all over. Harry would never be his again. 'I'm so sorry.' He had whispered nearly trembling with guilt. 'Forgive me.' He couldn't help but beg one last time. He knew it was in vain. Harry; submissive, abused, hurt and betrayed Harry had sharply pulled his hand away and ordered the werewolf in a tone that sent shivers down his spine. 'Don't ever talk to me again.' he had said and Remus had known it was over. Harry had left him kneeling in front of the chair and never looked back. He had also never spoken a word to another in Remus's presence again.

Although he had known nothing could be salvaged he had nearly fallen apart when the child had returned on Monday, pale and broken and determined to hide it. Remus hadn't even bothered to approach him but cast every spell after healing spell that he could do silently and watched over him as best he could. It had been weeks before he no longer smelled of blood and pain. Each day Harry had come in with fresh blood in the air around him. Remus had despaired and hated himself. If it weren't for him and his utter incompetence the child wouldn't be hurting now. If he knew what was best he would kill himself he thought. Better yet, whispered the wolf, he would put the pup out of his misery, a child so broken couldn't be fixed anyway. Remus had snarled in outrage and hadn't spoke to his mind mate for a week.

Now Remus was there only to watch. He wasn't allowed anything else. Not by the bindings holding him, not by the Headmaster who watched him, and not by Harry who either ignored him or stared at him in hate and suspicion. Even so he couldn't being himself to give up and leave. No. As long as Harry was here, was relatively accessible, he would stay. He would keep a silent vigil and if ever the time came that he could do anything to help Harry he would. And damn himself, and damn the consequences.

October 25th Noon

One of the more intolerable times of Harry's day was lunch. A time when children piled screaming and laughing and chattering in high pitched voices into a single large room and proceeded to create utter havoc and devastation in the form of food. Harry was utterly shocked when he had attended that first day and proceeded to watch the entire display in fascinated horror. This was what a zoo looked like when all the animals ran loose. The professors ignored the children completely and the children took advantage of that freedom in heady abandon.

Harry was a small bit of quiet in that sea of chaos. He huddled into himself and slunk into the seat at the table in the back corner nearest the doors and windows. Careful to never look up, lest he meet one of the rabid animal's eyes, he pulled out a small paper bag that had Harry written on it in Petunia's neat cursive as his aunt insisted in making the lunches and did it religiously every night before bed. Inside it was a small sandwich, an apple, a bag of carrots, and a cardboard jug of milk, and a rather large cookie. Harry took them out and set them on the table. Then he bowed his head and kept his eyes on the table and waited. It wouldn't be long now.

"If it isn't the freaky retard." Finally greeted him and he looked up to see a brown haired boy named Sean standing over him. Harry immediately looked down. The boy was older than him by a few grades and quite a lot bigger. He was also standing in an aggressive, arrogant way that had Harry's instincts whispering at him to give over and submit. At least Harry thought it was his instincts. Sometimes he wondered if it weren't his magic that ran along his shoulders and spine and made him want to whine and bare his belly or neck in silent begging of forgiveness. Or perhaps his magic was his instinct. That was always possible too. Whichever it was it more often then not helped him in these situations and Harry never felt more right than when he listened even when it all turned out bad.

"Aren't you going to eat your, lunch, Freak?" Sean flicked a finger at the apple causing it to wobble. Harry felt himself being watched with those rather buggy black eyes. Despite his submissive pose Harry wanted to roll his eyes and laugh at the idiocy. With all the advantages these children no doubt had you'd think they'd be smart enough to come up with more clever ways to pick on someone. It was possible they were allowing for Harry's now well known stupidity but he rather doubted it. This one never varied in his taunting. He was always the first to come up and always said the exact same thing.

"Your aunt sure must be something, carrots and apples, and oh here is a peanut butter cookie. How sweet." The mocking smile showed crooked and cavity stricken teeth. Harry had glanced up quickly to see them, just as he did everyday, before quickly looking down again. It was a strange fascination of Harry's the way Sean's teeth were crooked and pointed enough that they had sharp edges. Harry had wondered at first if the boy was related to vampires if very distantly before dismissing that idea. If he were then he wouldn't be so incredibly stupid. "You really ought to eat it you know, your pathetic enough at it is." Suddenly the apple was shoved in front of his face and held very close to his mouth. "Well, Potter? Aren't you going to eat it?" When Harry didn't respond he pulled the apple away and tossed it on the table in disgust. "You're such a twat, Potter." he said with a sneer, then left and headed back to start on his own lunch. The apple rolled off the table and sped across the floor finally wedging itself underneath a trashcan.

Harry went back to waiting. It never took long after that. Some threw things at him. Food, erasers, bits of paper wet with spit. Some actually walked by the out of the way corner table and accidentally spilled food on him. Some came up to taunt him about things; his lunch, his clothes, his glasses, his silence, his stupidity, and the odd rumors of his little lying habit that everyone spouted and didn't care were true or not. Small wonder who let that out. Harry eyed the bulky frame of Dudley Dursley heading his way. The seven year old boy was taller than average, which helped with the problem of his weight, but he still was half as wide as he was tall. He took his time, often looking back to make sure his friends were watching and cheering him on. Finally he reached Harry, who still sat, his food untouched and his fat paw snapped out, fast as a snake, to grab the cookie. Munching he started in on his usual taunts.

"Well, Freak, you finish that homework for Professor Whitman?" He knew very well that he hadn't as Harry's been sent to the cupboard as soon as he had gotten home the night before. Even if he hadn't he knew by now that Harry never turned in homework.

"You really need a haircut, you're beginning to look like a girl." Harry paled at that and hoped Dudley never mentioned that one in front of Vernon or worse Petunia.

"I'm really getting board of this new game I got. I'm thinking it might break soon." Of course it would.

"You still cry at night, Harry? Missing your parents I suppose. Too bad they thought you were a freak too." Yeah they had but Harry wasn't missing them anymore. The memories had replaced that longing.

Finally Dudley grew board. The cookie was gone and he grabbed the sandwich and milk, leaving the carrots of course, and left with a cuff to Harry's head which Harry didn't even acknowledge. He actually didn't mind those. They hurt but the pain was a dull throbbing thing, that was often comforting in a strange way though Harry could never figure out why. He only felt that way when Dudley hit him and it never failed to puzzle him, one of the few things about Dudley Dursley that did. Perhaps, it was Dudley's way of showing affection, or if not affection comradely, or something. Harry dismissed the entire thought. He couldn't figure it out and Dudley would never tell him willingly if he even knew so there was no point. He would keep an eye out for any explanation though. Harry believed in watching and keeping track of everything. The more you knew the less surprised you would be when everything finally played out.

Now someone might wonder why Harry endured this daily routine of daily torture. If he knew it was going to happen why did he even show up for lunch? The reason was actually very obvious at least to Harry. It was the Professors. They all attended lunch and although they ignored the other children Harry was singled out because of he was a problem at F.P. Betelgeuse Elementary. They watched him when they didn't even see Joshua Hailey was stealing a younger child's lunch money. They wanted to make sure that he didn't disrupt their school with any unfounded accusations again. Of course Professor Peter watched him for a different reason but Harry knew all about that. Well he thought he did. Sometimes he wasn't sure. It seemed as if the young Professor was worried about the abuse Harry suffered but sometimes Harry caught him staring at him with something else in his eyes. Something that was soft and possessive and made a fearful tumble in Harry's belly, almost a bit like before he was sick. Harry hated him and the way he looked at Harry. He didn't even want to know what was behind those looks. But the attention paid him, for once, helped Harry. Every day Harry came in for lunch and the professors noted the paper bag; the sandwich, and the apple, and the carrots, and the milk. And more importantly the cookie. A loving guardian gave their child cookies. They would give them fruit and vegetables out of concern for health, but the cookie said that the child was loved. That the child was good and well behaved and they were proud of that child. It was the cookie that convinced the Professors that Harry had been lying and he wasn't abused. It was Harry himself, by refusing to eat the hand packed lunch, who confirmed that he was malnourished by his own poor eating habits, perhaps a bit spoiled and picky even. And it was Dudley who finished it off by giving the Professors the excuse that explained Harry's small stature. He missed a meal a day, because his large cousin stole his lunch. That was common with cousins, brothers, families. Food was snatched and dessert stolen and arguments raised in healthy rivalry. It was Dudley's attitude, not too bullying, taunts that obviously had connotation to events outside school, and he helpful snatching of the cookie that filed away every Professor's last concern and had them seeking their own lunch again. And that was the reason Harry showed up every day to lunch.

And though someone might mourn if they knew the fact that Harry could at least have one good meal a day if the wasn't so careful and ate the food in hiding like any normally abused child, well you would be wrong. If Harry had eaten the food he would be worse off as it was poisoned. Oh not by much and Harry had long ago deducted that it was only the sandwich and the cookie, both made with careful attention to contents. The cookies were always made from scratch and always the batch was separate from what his aunt made for Dudley. Harry didn't know what she put in them but didn't really care as he knew better then to eat them and they didn't seem to do much harm to Dudley except to give him a stomach ache for a few hours. The sandwich on the other hand, Harry knew while looking nice actually was filled with expiring meat and rotten lettuce. Harry did worry that Dudley would get sick eating that, even though it would have been his own fault and would have served him right or at least taught him something, but Harry knew that Dudley never ate it. He would chuck it into his own bag and devour the enormous lunch his mother had lovingly packed until even his large stomach was full and then toss the bag in the garbage and lumber back to class never the wiser. Harry was exceeding grateful to Dudley for his part in Harry's new charade. Not that he let it affect himself much not did that little bit ever show. It wouldn't do to encourage the little monster.

Now that his self imposed appearance was over he was free to do as he liked. Lunch lasted an hour here and Harry spent most of it in the library. It was the only place that he felt safe. Dudley would never set foot in the library especially during lunch and the children who lived to torment him never thought to look for him there. Harry could loose himself for hours without having to be contentious of doing something that might give something away. He would curl up in a corner and read until he was to report for class. It was the best part of the day. It was his only freedom, caged though it was in the restriction of time. Now all that was left to do was leave unnoticed. Head still down he allowed his breathing to slow, his awareness to extent out, and sunk his 'hands' into the cup of liquid light inside him. Then he whispered to the room, the magic breathing out to touch everyone there, to insure that they heard. 'You've forgotten about me. You don't notice me. I'm not here and you don't know when I left or where I went.' Still breathing he pulled his 'hands' out and back and opened his eyes. After a final breath he looked up. No one noticed. Breathing slowly he stood up. Still no one noticed. Keeping an eye on the Professor, adults were more likely to ignore the whispering of magic, he slowly left the room only relaxing enough to look down and keep his eyes on the painfully scuffed hallway floor once he was out the open doors and beyond their view of the hallway.

Slightly smug but more relieved to have escaped unnoticed once again he made his way towards the library and the sanctuary it represented. Harry took the precaution of going in a meandering way. If anyone saw him he didn't want them to know where he was headed. It also afforded him more protection as he only went down halls that had classed still in attendance who already had enjoyed lunch. If he were to run into someone that thought it would be fun to torment him the fear of disturbing a class and the wrath of a Professor usually kept them on a short leash. He entered the library in relief but stopped short when he saw the Professor standing at the check out desk, talking quietly to Miss Harper, the school librarian. The Professor looked up at Harry's entrance, almost too quickly for his comfort, and smiled at him in relief. Thanking Miss Harper he quickly walked towards Harry and met him just inside the door.

"Harry. I must have just missed you, you left so quickly." Professor Peter's smile invited Harry to do so as well. Harry merely watched him. He never dropped his eyes to the floor with this one anymore though his body screamed protest at this disrespect. Harry did not smile and finally the Professor's dropped too.

"Your Aunt his here, Harry." he said quietly. "She's already picked up Dudley and they're awaiting you in the car."

Harry's eyes widened at that and he left quickly still without acknowledging his professor. When he was out of sight of the library he began to run. Harry hadn't a clue why Petunia was here, why she was picking up Dudley, or why she even wanted to see him but he knew if he kept her waiting any longer he'd really be in for it. Skidding to a halt when he got outside he scanned for the car and upon finding it raced to reach it. He nearly gulped when he say Vernon driving and both Petunia and Dudley in their seat. Harry dropped his eyes to the ground and waited.

"Well get in, boy! We haven't got all day" Vernon growled and Harry knew by the tone that he was in a horrid mood. As was his aunt he saw when he peeked a look at her as he climbed into the car and onto the towel laid out on the seat. The Dursleys didn't think that Harry could control himself in the car and always made him sit on a towel to protect it whenever they were forced to take him anywhere in it. Like a dog Harry had often compared it but never complained. He didn't know how he could ruin the leather upholstery but then again he didn't know much about cars either.

"Do we have to go?" Dudley whined as Vernon pulled away from the curb, tires shrieking. "I was planning on going home with Pier today, he has a new game that I want to play."

Despite her lack of knowledge at this plan she cooed at him in apology. "I'm sorry, Sweety, but the school won't let the boy attend if he doesn't have all his shots."Petunia's voice was a combination of sickeningly sweet and and vile outrage though Harry didn't know how she could pull that off. "We'll be in London so we can get you a new game if you want, hows that?"

He threw a punch at Harry who merely ignored him and sat watching out he window. "Well, why can't he just not go?" he mumbled. "He didn't before."

Vernon and Petunia didn't reply to that.

Then Dudley brightened when he realized what was going to happen. "Shots? He has to get them?" His eyes gleamed in delight. "How many? Will there be blood? Can I watch?" He eyed Harry like Harry was a bug. "I could hold him down so he doesn't squirm." Despite all the abuse that Harry endured, Dudley was really very innocent. Of course he saw Harry get a fist chucked his way but any thing major and most of his punishments were major, Vernon or Petunia did privately, away from Dudley, usually turning the tellie extra loud just in case. Dudley wasn't really very bright anyway and he was very unaware of how badly off Harry was and so remained a normal blood thirsty little boy.

Knowing all this Harry wasn't much bothered by Dudley's words and Vernon in contrast was incredibly pleased by them. "Thats my boy! Eager to get his own back, what with the boy always taking time away from him and breaking his things." It was clear Vernon heartily approved.

"It just like that boy to be so inconsiderate."Petunia snarled. "Of course he would have to need shots. Horrid boy! Disrupting our day and without a single apology!"

As if he had know what was going on before they started to speak of it, and he must be responsible for the lack of medical records as well. Harry nearly snorted but habit kept him in check. As for the apology if he did it now they'd punish him for interrupting their conversation.

"Quite right, Pet. Inconvenient! Thats what it is. Why we could have had plans." Vernon raged and spat a bit as he said that. "Although I do understand their view point, Pet. After all if the boy bit someone, there could be infection." He said this slyly, well as slyly as Vernon Dursley could and eyed him in the rear view mirror. Harry ignored him.

It was a long drive. When they reached the doctor's office Petunia took Harry by the arm and didn't release him even when they the nurse escorted them both into a room and started examining him. Harry watched in curiosity as she poked and prodded him her frown growing as she did. Harry felt a bit of concern when she told them she they would have to wait for a doctor. Petunia's pinched expression grew more pronounced and her grip on his arm tightened painfully. The doctor, a balding man with a shock white hair crowning his head, came in and after examining Harry for a minute quietly asked Petunia to leave. She did so reluctantly and shot a look at Harry on the way out. Harry knew what it meant. Calmly he pulled a bit of magic forward and looked at the doctor intently, somehow slidinginto his mind with startling ease. The doctor was worried. The boy in front of him, one Harry James Potter, was severely malnourished and his manner screamed that he'd been a victim of abuse for a long time. The doctors initial exam had shown evidence of broken bones and a myriad of other untended wounds that had the doctor huffing in rage. He knew if he could examine the boy with his clothes off he would find an entire litany of scars and still healing wounds but he was reluctant to scare the child. He seemed so fragile. Harry bit his lip in horror. The doctor's main reason for being there was to find enough evidence to get a social worker there and have the boy immediately removed from the Dursley's custody. A small part of Harry yearned but most of him burned with determination. He would not allow that. Slowly he pushed his way deeper into the doctor's mind, into the doctors memories, and sought out the most recent. Very carefully Harry asked his magic to, change them, turning them to harmless ones and eatingwhat was impossible to change but so subtly there wouldn't ever be evidence that anything was missing. Curiously Harry looked at the summary of what the doctor called abuse. The list was very long and Harry was shocked at what he saw. Not shocked that it had happened but at the extensive amount there was. Harry knew he couldn't remember some punishments the Dursley's had given him but this was far more then simply forgetting. He hadn't known of over half of what the doctor simply suspected was there. That caused Harry to tremble a bit. If he didn't remember it how could he hide it? Finally a troubled Harry carefully withdrew from the doctor's memories, making sure to be gentle. He was very aware that this doctor had spent years learning his trade and he didn't want a single lesson to be effected by his presence. Finally he was out and it took a moment to shake himself free of the doctor's personality and the way he thought. The doctor just didn't understand and Harry had to push away every impression he had read and remind himself of who he was.

The doctor left after telling him that he needed to eat more and take better care of himself if he wanted to grow up big and strong. When the nurse came back she was upset and was very careful when she pulled out shots and needles and poked them into Harry. Harry didn't even feel them but whimpered a bit for show. What really worried him was that she would make a fuss about the doctor's dismissal of her discovery. Harry sighed and pulledthe magic into his voice. He hummed a tune he had heard a kid sing at school recently and in his mind added words. Don't be worried, everything's fine. He's a boy and boys will rough house. There was no abuse. There were no signs of it. You were just shocked at how small he was for a seven year old and how shy. When the nurse was finished she was calmer and smiled at him. Then she gave him a lolly and told him they were through. 'That wasn't so bad was it?'

Harry just smiled back, touched now that the worry of being found out was gone that she had made any effort at all. He knew if she had known it was punishment she would have left it alone but still was grateful for her kindness. When he found the Dursleys Petunia and Vernon watched him suspiciously but made no comment when the nurse happily said that they were done. She gave them a few instructions and then they left without a backward glance. Harry could practically feel the Dursley's relief which only lessoned when Dudley grabbed the untouched lolly still in Harry's hand and asked if they could go get his game now and perhaps could they stop for ice cream? Petunia readily agreed and they quickly got back into the car and were off.

When they got out of the car Petunia grabbed him and stuffed some notes into his hand, telling him to go get himself some clothes, they wouldn't tolerate him wearing those rags anymore, and to meet them at a certain restaurant at five on the clock or they would leave him. Harry watched them in shock and slowly counted the notes. There were about 50 pounds there and he suddenly was very glad he had taken care of the doctor with minimum fuss. This was a thank you, all that Petunia would ever give him. The little voice that said this was a response to the fear of being found out, like before when he was allowed to sit with them and eat dinner and given Dudley's second bedroom for a time. That Petunia was only doing it because she would make up for it later by finding a way to punish him even more fiercely. Harry pushed that thought away and set off to take advantage of this freedom. Never had he been so free. He was alone in downtown London and he had 50 pounds in his pocket. A part of him urged him to take it and run but he chided that part gently in logical cynicism. If he did manage to actually get away his parents would find him and take him back. There was no point. That thought brought Harry's mood down to where it normally was and he finally decided to do exactly what he was told.

He found a shop and set to getting himself some new clothes. A kind woman helped him as he didn't have a clue what to do, but eyed his clothes in a way that said she thought he really did need new things though doubted he would be able to pay for them. Harry managed to finish quickly with money to spare and left wearing a new outfit the woman, Marcia, had convinced him to change into. Pleased Harry bought himself a meat pie from an old man manning a cart at a crossway and ate it slowly. It was turning out the be one of the best experiences of his life. He couldn't wait to see Hylaarr and Osset're. Even though he knew they couldn't hear him he would tell them all about it and imagine them smiling and laughing with him, telling him how clever he was to have used him magic so wisely. As content as Harry was at that moment he could imagine something better. Being able to actually be with the two vampires would be worth any beating in the world.

October 25th Late Afternoon

Harry eyed the poster for a vampire flick with disdain. Not only was the description of the night stalking undead creature that preyed on the innocent totally insulting, the picture of the pale painted actor in a black satin cape nearly had him laughing himself sick in the middle of the street. Indeed the sight of a young child laughing at an ad for a horror movie drew no small amount of curious looks. Finally Harry had himself in control, and with a quick look around to see if the Dursleys were anywhere nearby which they weren't, Harry turned to the poster with a rather evil smirk, one that was the exact duplicate of what a certain vampire lord looked like when he was about to thoroughly humiliate an opponent in a drawn out, and rather bloody, spar that more fit with the common vampire's idea of torture. Walking a bit away Harry feigned disinterest and turned to watch the crowd, eyes scanning it for the familiar girth of Vernon Dursley or the stick like figure of Petunia Dursley. Concentrating, without letting on that he was doing anything of the sort Harry pictured what he wanted in his mind, then sort of 'painted' it with magic before releasing it. Harry then looked around and casually let his gaze be drawn back to the poster and he had to bit his lip to suppress the wicked laugh that threatened to erupt at the sight. The pale painted actor now sported not a black satin cape but a beautiful violet one and his nails were subtly painted as well to compliment. Harry could help but admire his handiwork with glee. He would never have dared that at the Dursleys but in the middle of London who would possibly notice?

"Nice work." Said a voice suddenly as a blond boy stepped into view on his right. "I didn't even see your wand." Harry eyed the new person with puzzlement he allowed to show. The taller boy smirked at him.

"Thought no one had noticed did you? Well no one did, except me of course." The way he said it reminded Harry of Osset're a bit, though the boy wore such a nasty smirk he also got a bizarre impression of Dudley as well. "You know, it's against the law for you to do magic."

Harry abruptly paled and stared at the boy in horror. The boy didn't notice as he was examining the poster as if he could figure out exactly what Harry had done if he just used the right technique. "You're what five or six? Your parents must have all kinds of connections with the Ministry; even my father can't get them to bend the rules farther than the Manor wards. Unless, of course, they have other ways of getting around those rules?" The boy looked at Harry out the corner of his eye slyly but pouted when Harry merely stared at him blankly, still in shock that someone other than the vampires in his dream was talking about magic as if it really existed.

"What's with you anyway?" The boy said abruptly turning to face him, steely blue eyes staring at him questioningly. "You're staring at me as if I were, Harry Potter or something." Harry blinked in shock, and then blinked again. "Which I'm not you know." He pointed out still trying to get a response. "For one thing I haven't got an ugly scar…"

Harry nearly laughed, and finally woke up from his shock. Opening his mouth he was just about to answer that last rather humorous statement when an angry bellow made him cringe.

"Harry Potter!" A very put out Vernon was storming towards them, outrage clear in his stride. Harry forgot to breathe for a moment, if he had seen…

"Are you deaf as well, Boy?" Vernon snarled at he reached them and nearly spat in his face on the last word. "I've been calling you for the last ten minutes!"

"But he hasn't even been here for ten minutes." The blond boy suddenly pointed out in confusion, and Vernon's gaze snapped to study him suspiciously only now noticing the rather well dressed child. The blond boy didn't even pay his uncle any attention past saying that, but intently studied Harry. Cocking his head he asked curiously, "Are you really, Harry Potter?"

"Is he really Harry Pott- "Vernon broke off and whirled to face Harry; rage turning his face an angry red.

"Just what are you playing at Boy!" Vernon roared, unheeding of the scandalous looks he was receiving from passers by. "What have I told you about that nonsense! All that work! And now here you are fraternizing with another little freak in plain sight of every normal person!" Vernon, nearly frothing at the mouth in rage, was about to continue in that tirade but Petunia had shown up so fast Dudley was running along behind her trying to keep up. With a worried pinched expression she hustled them away and into the subway nearby. The subway was deserted and Vernon took advantage of that by picking up where he left off, screaming and raging about Potters and freaks and evil nearly incoherently. Harry took this all in from a distance, his eyes down and hunched over so far it looked as if he were bowing. From what Vernon had said and continued to spew in hysterical rage Harry had the sinking feeling that his uncle was talking about magic. About Harry having magic! But... but that was absurd. Harry had been so careful! 'It was impossible!' he nearly wailed inside his head. As hysterical as Vernon was Harry was more so in panic too. He had to fix this!

The entire time Petunia had stood watching her husband. She had seen the boy's confusion at what Vernon was yelling about and though she watched suspiciously she finally was forced to conclude that 'the boy' was ignorant of what was going on and who he had talked to. She wasn't about to let that get in the way of punishment but it did stop the trembling in her hands and the dizzy feeling she had went away.

Finally Vernon wound down and Petunia was able to convince Vernon that such a public place was not private enough to deal with this. Dragging a still stunned Harry and a clueless Dudley, who was devouring an ice cream cone as if it were about to disappear, Petunia led them out of the subway and to a small restaurant nearby. Telling Dudley to sit down she ordered him a meal and left him happily finishing the end of the cone. Two blocks later Petunia finally found what she had been looking for. An out of the way public restroom that, by its rather clean state, clearly didn't get many visitors, stood unobtrusively tucked away in a corner. Waiting for Vernon who pulled Harry behind him to go first Petunia looked around to see if they had been noticed before following the two through the door.

"Be sure nothing is visible, Vernon," she said with a smirk as her husband curled his fat paws into fists. "And don't get any blood on those clothes."

October 25 Early Evening

Lucius Malfoy was in the heart of muggle London waiting for a squib that was an hour late. He had been due back at the Ministry 45 minutes ago and his patience was wearing painfully thin. That he had had to bring his seven year old son into the muggle world was one of the reasons for that. Draco had been pestering his father to take him to the Ministry for months now and Lucius had finally conceded, with the thinking that it was about time for his son to begin learning what it meant to be the Malfoy heir. They had planned this outing for a week now and when Lucius had received an urgent owl from a well know reliable source he hadn't heart to cancel. And so here he was waiting, in what muggles deemed a tastefully expensive restaurant, for a squib that was accumulating minutes under the Cruciatus and a certain more permanent Unforgivable if he didn't show.

He had left Draco in a muggle toy shop, the child sneering at everything but wide eyed at the ingenuity before him. His son was the most inquisitive child he had ever met. He asked questions about everything, tolerated Lucius' strict rules of three hours study each day just because he wanted to learn, despite the fact that the boy wasn't overly fond of books. Lucius was slightly concerned with the amount of time he had left his child alone in the muggle shop. It wouldn't do for the child to become unnaturally fascinated with muggles like somewizards such as Arthur Weasley. Lucius sneered at the thought then pulled what appeared to be an old fashioned muggle pocket watch from his breast pocket. Ten more minutes and if he wasn't there Lucius vowed to kill him the moment he saw him. Suddenly a blond haired boy walked into the restaurant and quickly scanned it. Lucius sighed. Draco's curiosity was going to be the death of him. Draco headed for him the minute he spotted him, pushing right through the crowd as if he were a prince and they ought to know better then to be in his way, and finally reached his table.

"Father." He said in greeting and Lucius sneered and nodded to the opposite chair before glancing at the time. The pocket watch, actually a wizarding one given him by his grandfather before he died, which had read Time To Plot Murder And Mayhem , now read Time To Pay Attention To Draco and Lucius looked at his son who had taken his the seat he was directed to with a quiet distracted air. Lucius narrowed his eyes. That was very unlike his son. What had 50 minutes alone among muggle done to him? Draco was a bit paler than usual and most definitely subdued, something he never was unless Lucius had expressed severe disappointment in him. What had happened to his son? Lucius starting reviewing curses that he would use the moment he found out what muggle had so negatively dimmed Draco's bright spirit. Finally the boy spoke, though it didn't help Lucius discover a target for his ire.

"Father?" Draco was trying to act casual but hadn't yet managed to learn how to successfully accomplish that. "Did you say that Harry Potter lived with muggles?"

Lucius was shocked at that random statement but didn't allow that to show. He had said such a thing but so long ago he was once again reminded of Draco's incredible memory. He never though Draco would remember that when he said it but once again found out how uncomfortable his son's rather bright mind could be at times. Lucius ignored his thoughts and mildly sneered at the mention of The Boy Who Lived.

"I did, years ago." His tone was dismissing. He had learned more when Draco thought he wasn't interested then when he allowed his own curiosity to show. Draco merely nodded and left the conversation alone for a while. Lucius was brimming with interest that nearly had him forgetting himself and asking Draco what had happened but caught himself just in time. Really after all these years you'd think he'd know better then to forget himself even a moment. Giving Draco the information that he wanted to know what had happened was the sure way to see to it that hours would pass before he did. Draco was very accomplished at manipulation when he wanted and would maneuver and negotiate until they both were blue in the face in order to get Lucius to concede on a past argument, rule, or withheld privilege. He was the perfect Slytherin if a bit too sensitive at times. Lucius despaired of curing him of that but had continued to inform his son of the fact if just so the boy was aware enough to mask it when needed.

Now Lucius's mind ran with speculation on his son's painfully obvious words. Draco had seen Harry Potter. That was obvious and Lucius nearly crowed in glee. If he could find out where the boy was last seen perhaps he find him. Forget the Ministry, to hell with it, the Ministry would be overjoyed to find out the whereabout of one Harry James Potter anyway. Dumbledore had kept that secret up his sleeve so far that only himself and a few members of his precious order knew. Lucius was quite aware of how much the Minister would give to have himself on what he perceived would be equal footing with the powerful wizard. Lucius allowed himself to sneer knowing that Draco would think that he was irritated by how late his contact was. In truth he had forgotten completely about him. Lucius was immersed in plotting and planning, aching to have an advantage that no one could possibly predict. With the knowledge of where Harry Potter was he could have millions panting after him for it and a handful of those millions actually worth considering. Or he could keep it secret to use at a later date when it might prove more valuable. Even better if he could find a way to get at the boy, the influence of a Slytherin, of Lucius in particular, at least might get the boy placed in a potion later on that he could take advantage of or at best earn him the trust of the boy. No doubt a powerful child and most definitely one that Lucius could use if he had the opportunity. All this ran through his head in a quick procession which never stopped , causing his watch to switch to Plotting Manipulation And/Or Coercion until Draco spoke up again.

"I saw him." Draco finally said. Then, as if in apology for keeping quiet so long offered, "He had a wand." Yes far too sensitive. Lucius might have to have another talk with his son. But now he was far to fascinated with what the child had just said.

A wand. Harry Potter had a wand.

"He was using it too," Draco continued now eager to tell news he knew Lucius would want. He could see Lucius's interest now but didn't care and that was more worrying then anything he had done so far. "He turned one of those muggle photos a different color."

Lucius was puzzled and sneered to cover up the fact he was thinking furiously. "And why would he do that?" He asked in an arrogant way, as if insulted that a wizard would stoop so low.

Draco frowned. "I don't know." He said in confusion.

Lucius took a sip of the wine that had been poured for him a while ago that he hadn't touched. That was to cover his own confusion and to stop himself from reacting too quickly. Finally he felt enough time had passed.

"Didn't he say?" Lucius was watching Draco very intently now. His son still wasn't acting normally. He usually ran at the mouth when he had something he wanted to talk about and it was clear he wanted to talk about this but for some reason didn't know how. He was also forcing himself to appear more relaxed and calmer then he was. What had happened? Lucius's grip on the wine glass tightened before he forced it to relax. If Harry Potter had done something to his son not even Dumbledore could protect him from his wrath. Slytherin's had very long memories after all.

"No, actually he didn't." Draco was frowning into the table, his shoulders almost slouching a thing he never did unless he was safely in his room and usually only when sick. "Actually he didn't say much of anything."

Lucius's eyes widened at his son's tone. Draco was, dare he say it, almost acting concernedabout Potter. Lucius grew a bit cold as a million ideas ran through his head from Harry Potter plotting to ensnare the Malfoy heir as his loyal slave to death eaters showing up in muggle London and taking him away with his rather innocent son an uncomprehending witness. His mind made a million plans that all stopped short because he didn't know which one was needed. What. Had. Happened.

"Father," Draco's tone was clearly distressed now and Lucius's fingers were itching for his wand, his lips twitching with longing to whisper cruel Unforgivables. "Are muggles, naturally cruel to their children?" His eyes watched his father in painful fear. That they did. That they were even more horrid then his father had previously said. That they were monsters.

Lucius froze and his world twisted before his mind straightened out. Draco wasn't acting hurt, he was clearly upset but not in any pain. Still something could have happened, anything could have happened. Draco studied a lot, he could have learned a healing spell. Lucius' mind almost ran in circles in rage.

Draco had caught on to Lucius's distress something he would berate himself for later. "I am unhurt, Father." He quietly reassured. And Lucius's mind snapped back into functioning order.

"We will speak of this at home, Draco." Lucius stood. It was time to leave.

His son nodded obediently before asking worriedly. "We're still going aren't we?"

The Ministry. Of course. "Yes, we're still going." Lucius was rewarded with a bright smile and he ignored the fact that if it hadn't been for Potter and whatever his muggle relatives had done the smile would have been brilliant.

Lucius Malfoy and his son and heir walked quickly through the streets of muggle London until finally they came to a public restroom.

Sneering Lucius walked in and stopped frozen at what he saw. It was too late to stop Draco from entering as well and his son paled at the sight and swayed a bit. Lucius grabbed his shoulder to steady him. There were two muggles, an enormously wide man and a woman that resembled a horse if a horse were a blood thirsty cannibal. The male muggle had a small child's wrists in his left hand and was hold him up against a wall far too high for his feet to touch the ground. The child's shirt was off and among the many scars that were piled upon his back and what could be seen of his side and stomach were new marks that appeared to be made from the bits of metal that lay discarded on the floor. The child was small, smaller then Draco by far, and his forehead was resting on the wall, a shock of messy black hair obscuring his face and the scar that Lucius now knew would be there. The only one not inflicted by these muggles. The boy, Potter, was covered in bruising skin and his shoulders shook with silent sobs that couldn't be heard even if the muggle male weren't screaming obscenities about magic and freaks. The woman stood by, watching the man, her husband, and her finger nails and half her hands were red with blood and her face was twisted in an expression Lucius had only even seen on Bella and The Dark Lord. Her eyes were wild with madness, hatred, and fear. She was laughing softly and her hand kept clutching a broken glass soda bottle that was also red with blood as if it were the only weapon she had against a vicious beast. Lucius could see no way to prevent his son from seeing this, not even a Obliviate would keep his body from reacting in shock not to mention Lucius had no idea of what he had seen before except that it had effected him deeply as well. And so Lucius did the only thing he could do. For his son, who was staring at the muggles as if they were his night time monsters come to life, and perhaps a bit for the boy he had both loved and hated since the fall of the one Lucius had once called Master.

He waited for a pause, a break in the screaming of filth from the male muggle and the coinciding moment when the female had to stop laughing to breath. Then in a rather bored tone that hid everything he was thinking he let his presence be known, still gripping his son's shoulder tightly.

"Observe, Draco." He said it the same why he always did when he wanted to instruct his son in a lesson. He felt the boy respond beneath his hand, his shoulders straightening in acknowledgment, though he didn't calm in slightest. "The reason why the wizarding world is separate from the muggle world. The magicless beasts have no common sense."

Lucius watched as both stiffened in panic and fear and their eyes sought him out and finally registered what he had said. The female snarled in rage and fear, reminding Lucius of some mad Thestrel and the male had paled then reddened in fear and rage and dropped the boy who fell about six feet to the ground below. He moaned when he hit the floor but didn't move, only lay where he had fallen like a broken bird shot out of the sky.

"Who are you!" The male muggle bellowed suddenly, startling Draco who jumped beneath his hand. He eyed the wand that suddenly appeared in Lucius' hand and his eyes grew wide. "FREAKS !" He bellowed again. "I'll not have you about you horrid, Freak!" He breathed with the force it had taken to shout out the word and Lucius sneered.

"Imagine," he continued as if he hadn't heard or as he had and had dismissed the words as easily as a wizard like him dismissed the barking of a dog. "Beating a child." Lucius ignored the fact that they had been rather gleefully cutting him up with metal and glass instead of beating him. That was neither here nor there and he didn't want to remind his son of what they had been doing. Tisking he fingered his wand. "Do you remember why magic has always been used in punishment, Draco?" His son gave a jerky nod. "Because children are fragile creatures and subjecting them to violence of any sort will see to it they are scarred for the rest of their life." Lucius said this in a bored tone but the contempt he felt was obvious. Lucius smirked at the Dursleys and pushed just a bit. "Perhaps even becoming as or more violent when they grow up if just to gain revenge one day upon the visitor of their torment." He watched impassively as the male muggle blew up wishing idly that he had truly done so preferably with Lucius' wand behind it.

"That Freak, is a Monster!" The muggle threw out his hand indicated the motionless boy on the ground. "He's an evil vile thing and the beatings are the only thing that keep him from killing everything in his path. He's a murder!A Demon!" The spitting muggle was practically hissing. "We have no choice but to beat the evil out of him. He killed his parent! They were freaks too and he was such a monster as a child that he killed them without even lifting a finger!" Lucius watched as the boy jerked at that and finally lifted his head, green eyes suddenly visible and looking at the male muggle in horror.

"I highly doubt that the boy is responsible for The Dark Lord killing James and Lily Potter." Lucius's voice was calm but he was trembling with disgust and he watched as the boy's eyes fastened on him his breathing harsh, eyes blank. "You can hardly hold a child responsible for a madman who went after a boy because of a prophesythat stated he would defeat him!" Lucius realized he was trembling in rage too and forced himself to calm. He sneered to cover his slip. "It is as I said, Draco. Muggles have no common sense."

"Someone killed my parents?" Finally Potter spoke his voice so soft it was hardly there and so dull with disbelief that Lucius felt his own dark heart being tugged in sympathy.

"Yes." He said, studying the boy intensely. "A dark wizard, who proclaimed himself The Dark Lord." Lucius glanced ever so briefly and smirked at the muggles who were staring at the boy in shock. "One of many wizards who believe that muggles are worthless creatures that ought to be put down like rabid animals." His very tone implied that he was one of those wizards who believed thusly. "What do you think, Draco?" Lucius asked his son, smug in what he knew, after seeing what he had here, the boy would say. "Shouldn't muggles be put down like rabid animals? Or perhaps ," he allowed thoughtfully, "Chained up and beaten like dogs?"

Draco suddenly straightened and found his voice, so cold that Lucius couldn't hear what he was truly thinking beneath it. "Oh I don't know, Father. I rather fancy these diserve a punishment as well." Draco smirked, one identical to his father's. "Perhaps if is painful enough they will learn better." He said this in a obviously hinting way then added maliciously. "They are human after all, perhaps they can be taught what isn't bred."

Lucius allowed himself a cruel chuckle and watched as both muggles tensed in fear. Lucius relished that look before lifting his wand a bit higher, watching their eyes track to it in panic.

"Observe, Draco." He said addressing his son but his eyes turned back to the broken child on the ground who still stared at him with utter shock in his eyes. "The first time you will witness the cruciatus curse. I had thought to wait until you were older but, I believe you will permit me to make an exception." He waited a bit, his silence asking his son to object if he was going to, his eyes on Potter who never even blinked. After a moment he raised his wand with purpose and whispered the words that every wizard shuddered to think about. "Crucio."

The male muggle screamed and fell writhing to the ground, shocking the boy into jerking his eyes away from Lucius and to the man flopping on the floor in unique agony. The muggle female screamed in utter terror and started to run to her husband though who knows what she thought she would do. Quicker then lightning he had whispered Imperio and stopped her short, forcing her stand and stare unblinking at the pain her husband was enduring. Finally his eyes tracked to Potter who was staring at the male muggle as if he could have never imagined such an event although Lucius knew he had to have at least once in the dead of night when he couldn't move and pain ate his breath and killed his thoughts and convinced him nothing would ever be okay again. Then his eyes focus on Draco who was breathing harshly at the screams but holding up admirably, his normally pale blue eyes now dark with satisfaction and not a small amount of horror. That was alright. He didn't want his son to become immune to human suffering only aware that at times it was necessary.

But Lucius had obviously forgotten the Potter boy and was shocked when the child he had though too hurt to do anything suddenly pulled himself up and magic suddenly filled the room, glorious and heady in intensity and pouring from the seven year old child now standing and staring at him with hard eyes.

"Stop it." He said it softly but Lucius heard the order in his voice and the power hissed at him like the snakes he had always so admired. Lucius was fascinated and for once since Draco had been born forgot that his son was there for just a moment, forgot that if this strangely powerful child attacked or even lost control that his son could be hurt.

"Why?" Lucius asked it rather languidly and listened to the screams with relishment. "Doesn't he deserve this? Hasn't he hurt you at least the sum of this much." He nodded to the writhing muggle and began counting. He couldn't let it be permanently harmed mores the pity.

"No." The boy began to tremble. "Uncle is right. I diserve the punishments. You don't understand. How could you? It must be this way." His eyes were begging almost fearful and Lucius knew he was missing something important. "Stop." The boy had begun to beg now. His eyes leaked tears and he was breathing harshly. And Lucius knew he couldn't continue. Potter had been tortured enough.

But before he could lower his wand Potter moved and threw himself into the line of the spell, and something Lucius had never seen before happened. His magic grabbed the spell that was Lucius's, that was never meant to be wrest from the caster and turned it on Potter before fading away as the muggle stopped his screams and the boy again fell to the ground and writhed silently. Lucius dropped his wand from that raised position and snarled in fear and horror.

"Stupid boy!" He yelled as spell dropped from the woman muggle with his concentration and she ran to the male muggle, the one Potter called uncle, and lay holding him and shrieking in fear. Lucius dropped his hand from Draco, who hadn't moved through all this, and ran to the boy. Quickly he cast healing spell after healing, some quite dark but more effective and it wasn't as if the boy were conscious to feel the pain that made them so. Finally the boy was healed as far as he could be without a professional healer and Lucius sat back and stared at the muggles a few feet away.

Slowly he rose to his feet and looked at his son. Draco was pale, shaken at what had happened but more so by Potter himself. His son stared the the broken Boy Who Lived as if he wanted to desperately understand why he had done what he had. Lucius would like to know that himself but he would have to be content with the fact that both he and his son were whole. He could take the boy back. He had vaguely planned for that from the moment he had walked into see the child being so cruelly tortured by a pair of worthless muggles. But now he couldn't take the chance. The boy was very powerful these muggles had somehow broken him enough that he couldn't understand he was just a child and could never be or do anything to deserve the punishmentsinflicted on him in muggle fear. If Lucius took him into his home and wards and the boy used his magic to lash out Lucius might not be able to protect himself and his wife and son. Still something must be done. Just not anything that would make the boy notice.

Turning to the muggles, the male lying barely breathing on the floor but still conscious, and the female staring at him quietly now with fear and hate in her eyes. So this was Lily Potter's sister. He could see the resemblance now but only barely. A lifetime of hate and fear had erased anything that might redeem this woman which simply proved the fact that muggle borns shouldn't be allowed to join the wizarding world, as this is what was created when they did. Quietly he whispered a spell, a dark one that would insure the muggles silence about his and his son's part in anything that had taken place this day. Lucius mourned that he couldn't erase the memories because the boy would notice but the risk was too great. If the boy thought him in the wrong more then he already did Lucius wasn't sure he could protect himself from his wrath. Potter was extraordinarily powerful, more so then Dumbledore and worse more so then the departed Dark Lord of whom there were quiet whispers in the darkness. But apparently Potter didn't see fit to use his magic to protect himself from unnatural beatings and Lucius knew that when the shock of everything had worn off the muggles would hurt him perhaps beyond all healing. Lucius would do something about that, a child that powerful could not be allowed to endure any more abuse, but first he had to take care of his son.

"I do hope this had taught you something, but I've always held that muggle couldn't be taught a think beyond obedience and fear." Lucius purposely made his tone cruel. "I really can't object to any thing you do when I am or my son aren't there to see but I assure you if I ever see a muggle hurting a wizard I won't hesitate on the whims of an abused child. I will kill you, as it would be far easier then simple torture if perhaps not as enjoyable."

Lucius walked to his stand by his son and was proud that Draco's face was composed and the horror in his eyes deeply hidden. His son would be affected by this, he knew, but a part of him was strangely pleased. He would never have to convince the boy to hate muggles ever again; even when the child grew up and formed his own opinions he would forever keep that hatred that fear a part of him. Perhaps he would let the boy keep that sensitive nature of his. It could prove useful in the future to manipulate and control.

Amazingly the muggle female spoke and Lucius was pleased that she brought up the very thing he had been about to address.

"What!" She said waspishly, her voice nearly non existent from her hysterics. "Aren't you, Freaks, going to take him back?"

Lucius sneered. "I hardly think it a good idea for me to taken in the boy who defeated my late master. I was his servant you know. Where do you think I learned such spells?" His let his eyes glitter with rage that with a glance to Potter he implied was the cause. "I see nothing in it for me to go gadding about singing of the way The Boy Who Lived lets himself be abused by such poor examples of muggles whom he has the misfortune of being related to." Lucius lied easily and watched as the woman slowly translated. No one be told. They were safe to continue on with their lives. Lucius just hoped they kept him mind his words. Potter was powerful and woe betide them if he ever changed his mind and thought to hate them.

He pulled out his wand, enjoying the paling expression on the female's face. Lucius was afraid that the Ministry was out of the question now. He had a feeling that his son wouldn't even notice. His arm went around Draco and with a pop they were gone. First he would see to his son. Then he had an appointment with a certain Headmaster of Hogwarts School For Witchcraft and Wizardry. Wouldn't Albus Dumbledore be surprised to find out that he wasn't the first to learn of it? And wouldn't he be enraged to find his hands tied when Malfoy black mailed him with quite a few secrets he was sure the old man wanted desperately to keep? Lucius had the strange urge to hum and his watch moved to hover between Plotting Manipulation And/Or Coercion and Time To Smile: Things Are Going Well.

October 25th Evening

Harry suddenly appeared in the middle of Hylaarr and Osset're's private chamber just a few paces from the bed. Gasping and trembling he fell the cold marble floor tears leaking out and sobs in his chest waling to be freed. He let them and silent sobs suddenly overtook the boy utter agony gripping him and holding him unable to move. For once he hurt but the pain wasn't what made him cry.

His parents were dead. He had been the cause. Someone had killed them trying to get to him and he could never forgive himself for the hatred he had felt towards them and every harsh thought that had whispered in his mind. They had loved him. He had been loved once. He had been worthy of that love and now his world was torn upside down. Why the punishment? Why the beatings? Why had he been given to those who hated him so harshly? More, why did a part of him tremble at the fear of never being punished again? Was he insane? To want that? And he did. He knew that know. He had wanted the punishments, they had kept him sane, had grounded him. He had needed them and still did. But he didn't deserve them. Not for the reasons he thought. Was there a reason? If there were what was it? If there weren't how could he ever function?

He was lost. The Dursleys knew of magic. They had been found out and they had been tortured by magic. How would they react when he went back. He trembled at the thought of their wrath. How could he possibly survive that? How could he ever give it up? His thoughts tumbled around in his head and he cried and mourned and shook. It had been so simple before. He had deserved those punishments before. He had deserved the pain. Now, when knew he didn't, how could he endure?

Suddenly a hand touched him, his hair, and Harry jumped and sat up to see Osset're in front of him. Looking at him. His face was so expressive and now twisted in concern and sympathetic pain. Harry could see subtle etchings of magic trailing down his skin, as only happened when Osset're was very emotional and suddenly it didn't concern him how the elven vampire could see him. How he could touch him and more care about his pain enough to offer comfort. Harry just saw, Osset're, the vampire he had loved for forever and he launched himself into arms that closed about him and tightened to hold him close. Then he was crying and being rocked and someone was behind him and holding him as well and both were whispering in elven that everything would be all right and they were there. And he cried until he had nothing left and until he couldn't stand this day anymore and he fell asleep, easing into the darkness where there were no dreams still feeling arms around him. And he wondered if this is what it was like to be loved.

I am evil. I readily admit it. I had planned this big long scene where Harry's discovered and everyones shocked and Hylaarr suspicious while Osset's concerned. And then i realized that i couldn't fit it into this chapter. It was too long. The chapter would have been overwhelmed by the last scene into everything else paling in comparison. ( Fitful likes to think her writing's that good) Anyway Remus took a lot out of me, I had no plan for him beyond the John James Peter bit but suddenly he's a tad insane and the wolf and him are on friendly terms and he's being utterly despised by Harry through his own utter stupidity and pathetically weak need, and YES I am making excuses. I really don't have much will power and i figured if i wrote the scene that's been building up since day one i would have no reason to start the next chapter. I really haven't planned that far beyond vague ideas of a scene with the bitch finding out about dream harry. So I baled and pushed the next scene into chapter 6. I mean 5. No really it's in chapter 5. Don't kill me. I figured I'd throw you all a bone and write the beginning, which did fit into this chapter, but now I realize I'm being a frustrating tease. I feel guilty that I'm amused by that.

Anyway you all need something to keep you coming back for more. What would happen if you decided that the scene you all have been waiting for sucked and you were off to reread a classic or find a nice erotic one shot. This way you all are desperate to see what happens. I need the motivation of readers to keep writing. If I had just started writing this story, planning to post it when finished, I would still be in chapter two, or well Harry would. I would be reading fan fiction rather than attempting to add to the horrid obsession. Sigh. I almost wish I was. I could really use one of those erotic one shots right about now.

Playful Kisses

Fitful