It all belongs to J.K. Rowling, as if you didn't know!
Thanks go to my amazing beta, ObsidianEmbrace, and my good friend Kristeh, for all their support and encouragement.
My portrayal of Draco was highly influenced by Aspeninthesunlight's Draco in the "A Year Like None Other" universe. I was never overly fond of him before reading her stories.
HP SS DM
As much as Harry had thought that Spinner's End would be quite homey with a bit of elbow grease and a coat of paint, having the task assigned to him as punishment for revealing that he'd broken school rules a year ago, rather took the wind out of his sails.
"Argh!" A loud screech made him jump.
"What the hell Malfoy?" Harry scowled at the blond boy, who jumped up on the chair, and was looking down at a large spider crawling across the floor.
Malfoy pointed with his long, manicured finger. "Th-aa-t," he said; his bottom lip trembling.
Harry rolled his eyes.
"Honestly Malfoy!" It's just a spider."
"Just a spider?" Draco croaked. "It's the size of Goyle's fist."
Harry smirked.
"You know you kind of remind of Ron. He's deathly afraid of spiders as well."
Harry clapped a hand over his mouth. Oops! Ron would kill him for revealing his deepest fears. Oh right, he'd already done that a few times, hadn't he?
"Weasley?" Draco said indignantly. "You're comparing me to that blood traitor?"
Harry threw the scrub brush on the floor and rolled up his sleeves. "If you insult Ron one more time, I'm going to pound you one."
"What is going on in here?" a silky voice demanded.
Snape stood tall and menacing, dressed in his usual black garb, minus the robes; he filled the doorway with his towering presence.
"He's acting like a whiny girl. All afraid of a spider," Harry retorted. "And, he just called Ron a Blood Traitor!"
Intense black eyes made Harry shiver.
"Is this true Mr. Malfoy?"
Draco's face flushed with embarrassment, as he gingerly put one foot on the floor; he eyed the arachnid scuttling across the floor.
He hung his head. "Yes sir." He was trying to change-he really was, but years of conditioning from his Pureblood-obsessed parents, had left their mark on the Slytherin, and many of his Housemates had encouraged the boy's tainted views.
Severus pinched the bridge of his nose. "Draco."
Draco hunched his shoulders. "I know. I'm sorry."
Severus let his stern gaze rest upon the blond, for a moment. "Both of you, go get washed up for dinner. It would seem that we need to have yet another discussion on cooperation."
Harry leant towards Draco, and whispered under his breath, "And I think that we need to have another discussion with Snape about his choice of shampoos."
Draco couldn't help it, he snorted.
With a glare from Snape, Draco forced his lips downward, Potter was a hoot; crazy to insult someone as fearsome as Professor Snape, especially in his own home, but Draco couldn't help but think, that this summer was going to be anything but dull, with Potter under the effects of this potion.
"Upstairs," Severus growled, pointing towards the staircase.
"Geesh, what a grouch," Draco said under his breath.
"Go!"
"We're going. We're going," Draco grumbled.
HP SS DM
Upon entering their room, yes their room, Harry thought grumpily, he threw himself down on the bed. Snape had decided that he and Draco needed to share a room, after growing increasingly weary of their constant squabbling. He had decided that the only way that both boys would learn to get along, is if they were in forced, close proximity.
Harry winced as his back made contact with the mattress; yes, the mattress was as soft as a feather, and definitely was better than sleeping in cold alleyways, or on his thin, lumpy mattress, with springs sticking out in all directions, that his loving relatives had provided him with, but Harry's ribs were still tender from the beating that he'd received from those thugs. After the beatings Harry had already received in the past from his uncle, his ribs had never healed properly and were particularly vulnerable to injury.
"Potter?"
Harry sucked in a painful breath, and pulled himself up off the bed, onto his elbows.
"You alright?"
Harry nodded.
Harry blinked; could it have been concern that shone in the Slytherin's grey eyes? The mask was back up too quickly, but Draco continued to stare at him. Harry shifted uncomfortably under his scrutiny.
"Do you want the shower first?" Draco finally spoke.
Harry waved his arm. "No, you go first."
"Okay," Draco said, and grabbed a handful of fluffy, white towels from the laundry basket, and proceeded towards the loo.
His hand rested on the door-handle, and he turned around. "Look Potter, I'm sorry, I-"
"Harry."
Draco's eyes widened. "Huh?"
Harry pulled himself upright.
"It looks like we're going to be spending a lot of time together this summer, so I reckon that we should at least call each other by our first names."
Draco lifted a blond eye-brow in an eerily similar fashion to Snape. "Yeah, that and the fact that Severus ordered us to."
Harry smirked. "Yeah, that too."
Despite several applications of Snape's bruise salve, the pale skin around Draco's eye was still marred by dark purple and black bruising. Harry knew that Draco would not appreciate his pity, but Harry couldn't help think how uncharacteristically vulnerable the blond boy seemed. Even his stance as he leant against the door, was not as confident and self-assured as he normally was.
Harry wanted to know what happened-was dying of curiosity actually, but he could almost imagine the scene in his mind. The elder Malfoy was a cruel, sadistic bastard, and Harry surprised himself at the anger that rose up in his throat on Draco's behalf.
"Did your father do that to you?"
"Oh Merlin! I'm sorry! I shouldn't have asked you that, I-"
Harry stopped, horrified at that he'd actually verbalised what he'd been thinking. Unfortunately, the effects of the potion continued to loosen his tongue.
"It's alright Po-Harry."
Draco's hand tightened on the door-handle.
"It's no big deal. My father expects a certain level of perfection, and when I don't deliver...well, let's just say that he makes his displeasure known very clearly," he said bitterly.
"I'm sorry," Harry whispered.
He picked at the lint on his jumper.
"My uncle-" he swallowed the lump in his throat, "well, you heard-I mean, in class, you know..."
HP SS DM
Severus stomped up the stairs. If those boys were fighting again, he'd have them chopping Lace-Wing Flies, and scrubbing cauldrons until-" he stopped abruptly just outside the boys' room, and listened to their conversation.
He turned around, made his way back to the kitchen and turned down the heat on the burner.
Harry lay back down on the bed; gingerly this time, and allowed his gaze to roam around the room. He could hear the shower running, and Harry allowed himself to chuckle; was that really Draco Malfoy, spoilt Prince of Slytherin, humming in the shower? It was just so odd to think of Malfoy doing anything so mundane as singing, let alone in the shower.
As Harry gazed around the room, he couldn't help but think that the room was much nicer than anything he'd ever had before; well, anything would be an improvement over a broom closet, wouldn't it? Or Dudley's second bedroom.
Snape had muttered something about the room having been a guest room before. Harry wondered briefly at the choice in furnishings. The room was very beautiful, but it didn't seem all that age-appropriate for two fourteen-year-old teenage boys, with its pale blue walls, blue curtains edged with a deep burgundy. Sunlight filtered in through the large, bay window, and although the rest of the house was old and in need of repair, this room seemed to have recently received a fresh coat of paint and the hardwood floors glistened with polish. Dark blue throw rugs, woven with the same burgundy found in the curtains, were placed to the side of each twin bed.
Matching dark blue bedspreads with several pale and dark blue over-sized pillows adorned the beds. The furniture was simple, but classic; each boy had a night-table with a Muggle-style brass lamp on each one. Both beds were identical; made of the same dark, polished walnut that the dressers were made of, with delicately hand-carved floral designs, and polished brass handles. Despite the floral designs and the tasteful decor, the room still had a masculine aura.
Each boy had their own desk, made of the same burnished walnut, complete with shelves, and lined with an assortment of what looked like Potions Manuals, and other volumes that Harry couldn't understand the titles of, as they were written in Latin. Harry rolled his eyes. It didn't take a genius to figure out that Snape would probably expect both boys to work on their Potions skills all summer.
There was also a dark blue divan, with light blue, and burgundy throw pillows scattered on it. Yes, a very comfortable room and beautiful in its rich colours and decor, but Harry still couldn't help thinking that it needed just a touch of something youthful.
Harry had a mischievous sparkle in his eye, when Draco came out of the shower, patting his wet hair dry with the towel.
"It's all yours Po-Harry."
"Yeah, just a minute Draco," Harry said thoughtfully, as he started emptying his trunk.
"Uh, Severus is not a patient man," Draco said nervously. "I really think that you'd better hurry and get washed up for dinner."
"Yeah, in a minute," Harry said breathlessly, as he rummaged through his trunk.
"What the hell are you doing Potter?"
"I just think that this room could use a little something to make it look a more like teenagers live in it," Harry explained, as though that explained everything.
Draco threw the wet towel on his bed, and peered down to look at Harry throwing clothes, quills, parchment, a Sneakoscope, and a pair of mismatched socks into the air, searching for Merlin knows what. Severus would be furious if he saw the mess that Potter was making; Draco snatched his wet towel off the bed, and hurriedly stuffed the clothes that were scattered on his side of the room, into his dresser drawer; he really had no desire to scrub anymore cauldrons, or to listen to another lecture on how Spinner's End was not Malfoy Manor, and that there were no House-elves to pick up after him. As if Draco needed anymore reminder that this hell-hole was not Malfoy Manor.
Draco sobered up quickly though. As much as he missed the luxuries that being able to perform magic would afford him, he wouldn't trade living with Severus here, even with all his rules, and his little idiosyncrasies, and being forced to perform chores meant for a House-Elf, to living with his cruel and sadistic father. Draco did miss his mother though, and his heart gave a little tug when he thought how she always tried to protect him, even at her own expense. It had been her idea for Draco to stay with his godfather, and even managed to convince Lucius that with Severus' tutelage and strict discipline, that Draco could finally achieve the marks, a young wizard of his station should earn. It was a hard sell, but his mother had finally convinced his father of the benefits of Draco spending the summer with a Professor.
"What exactly are you suggesting?"
Harry smirked. "That we add a little something to the decor," he said, straightening up, as he finally found the object of his search.
He held up a Gryffindor banner, a Chudley Cannon Quidditch team poster, compliments of Ron, some mementos of the World Cup, including posters of the Irish Quidditch team, and an assortment of other, what looked like Gryffindor rubbish to Draco's eyes.
"Are you crazy Potter? First of all, we're in a Muggle neighbourhood," he said, not quite hiding his distaste, "and secondly, I already tried to add my personal touch to the room," he said haughtily, "and Severus made me remove it."
"Yeah well...Snape needs to remove that plug from his arse, and loosen up."
"I look forward to you informing him of that."
"C'mon Malfoy, uh...Draco, you can even decorate your side of the room in Slytherin colours."
Draco's eyes narrowed suspiciously. He was Slytherin after all. No one ever offered anything, without expecting something in return.
"I suppose that means that I have to let you decorate your side in Gryffindor colours?"
Harry answered with a crooked grin. "Of course."
Draco hesitated. Severus would not be pleased, but then again, when is Severus ever pleased.
He threw his arms up in the air. "Oh, what the hell..."
HP SS DM
Severus allowed a small sigh to escape. The conversation that he'd overheard gave him a sliver of hope that perhaps this summer wouldn't be the disaster he'd envisioned it to be; what with putting Potter and Draco together under one roof. Severus had been sure that the boys would destroy his house, but maybe, just maybe, these boys would be able to put prejudices and past grudges aside, and help each other to heal.
After Po-no-Harry; he had to change his mindset; if he insisted that the boys call each other by their Christian names, then he must do so as well. It wasn't easy to put his own past grudges aside.
What the boys didn't realise, was that, contrary to what they believed, he had not assigned a punishment for Harry breaking the rules, and sneaking off to Hogsmeade last year; although if truth be told, he wanted to strangle the Headmaster for not only, not disciplining the boy, but actually rewarding the little hellion for his continued breach of school rules. No. Severus did not punish Harry for sneaking off to Hogsmeade, nor did he punish Draco for calling the Granger girl a Mudblood (well not solely for that), but he was tired of their constant bickering, and wanted them to realise, not how their backgrounds and upbringing were so different, but how alike they actually were.
Dark times were ahead, and both boys were more important to the cause of Light, then either realised. Both boys were in particularly vulnerable positions as well. Potter it was obvious, but while Draco knew of Lucius' loyalties, he had no idea just how deeply entrenched his father was in the Dark Lord's plans to take over the Wizarding World-and he himself, well, he was in the most vulnerable position of all. He had Harry Bloody Potter living with him, and if the Dark Lord found out-to say that he wouldn't be pleased, would be an understatement; or perhaps he would be, and would expect Severus to deliver the boy to him on a silver platter.
Severus lifted up a wad of starchy, gobby spaghetti noodles with a large fork; reluctant as he was to interrupt the boy's talk, he eyed the over-cooked pasta with distaste. He plopped the noodles back into the pot, and then, with a wave of his wand vanished the contents.
He pulled out more noodles from the package, and filled the pot with fresh water, and put it back on the stove; he set the water to boil once more.
Some things were more important, then perfect pasta
He stirred the sauce and was satisfied that it too, wasn't over-cooked; at least it was difficult to over-cook pasta sauce, and it had only been on a low simmer for the last three hours.
He sat back, perusing the local Muggle newspaper, while he waited for the boys to wash up and finish their conversation.
Exasperated, Severus finally slapped his hand down on the table, rattling the cutlery, and stood up angrily. He looked up at the clock. What the hell were those boys doing up there? He stalked over to the stove, and turned off the burner again. With another swish of his wand, he waved away the contents of the pot once more.
HP SS DM
If very loud rock music had not been blaring from the radio-making the thin walls of their bedroom rattle and shake, and if Harry and Draco had not been arguing hotly over which side of the room was better decorated, they might have been fore-warned of the fiery storm that was headed their way, in the guise of one Severus Snape. And they might have heard the loud, punishing sound of boots meeting stairs, as an angry Snape stomped upwards towards the targets of his ire. They might have cringed at the picture of the tall dark wizard, with the angry scowl etched on his pale features, the flashing, furious obsidian eyes, and the way his lips had stretched into a thin line.
Unfortunately, Draco and Harry were too busy zipping back and forth on their brooms, as they attempted to catch the elusive golden practice snitch that Harry had found at the bottom of his trunk, as it veered through the air, flapping its wings and mocking them to catch it.
Perched in the farthest corner of the room's ceiling, Harry sneered at the Slytherin.
"You call yourself a seeker Malfoy?" he mocked.
"As a matter of fact I do," Draco responded, as he reached out with his long, pale fingers to grab the snitch, only to capture a handful of air.
The grin on Harry's face melted as the door flew open, almost ripping the hinges from the wall, with the force of its blast.
"Oh shit!" Harry croaked, at the image of a very tall, very dark, very menacing-looking Snape standing in the door-way; his back rigid, obsidian eyes flashing daggers, and his arms crossed against his chest, looking for all the world as though he wanted to murder the two of them.
An hour later, Draco, Harry and Snape sat down to a dinner, much to Draco's chagrin, of canned ravioli. He dared not complain about the common, Muggle fare, as he termed it, for fear of igniting his godfather's volatile temper once more. He rather thought that he had held his tongue quite successfully, when Severus had slapped the plate-full of red, rubbery-looking, things on the table before him, splattering sauce all over his expensive, cashmere jumper.
HP SS DM
It had only been yesterday that Snape had rescued Harry from the streets of Muggle London, and while it had not been fun having the threat of punishment leveled over him, listening to Snape's scathing lecture about proper behaviour and having his Firebolt confiscated, he had to admit, that Draco had been a good sport about him decorating his side of the room in very "Gryffindork" colours, as the blond boy had put it; even if the impromptu Quidditch practice had resulted in both boys having to write lines and scrub cauldrons, lose their brooms for an undetermined amount of time, Snape had eventually, albeit much grumbling, agreed to allow them to keep their new decor. Of course this privilege was accorded with much threatening that if the room was not kept immaculately clean, that he would personally take down every poster, banner and every other manner of teenage paraphernalia, and throw it into the Floo.
"After you boys finish washing up the dishes," Snape began, to which both boys glared at him, "I would like for you to excuse us Draco. There are some things that I wish to discuss with Mr. Potter, including the house rules, and certain expectations that I require of him."
Harry rolled his eyes. He was wondering when Snape would get to the rules. It seemed like the man loved rules; why couldn't he just let his greasy hair down already, and relax.
Oops! Harry hadn't realised that he had expressed this thought verbally, and very loudly.
Severus gave Draco a very stern look, when the boy slapped his hand down on the table and burst into a loud guffaw.
"That will be enough Draco."
"Of course Severus," he agreed, while clapping a hand over his mouth; he couldn't quite smother the snickering however.
"Mr. Potter-" Severus began, snarling, "-let me disabuse you immediately of any thought you might have that I would let you run wild about my premises, as the Headmaster, or your Head of House might."
"I don't run wild-" Harry said hotly. "-and you know nothing about me, or what Dumbledore or McGonagall might or might not let me do, you big, over-grown-"
Harry's eyes grew wide, as his lips were flapping, but no sound was coming from his larynx.
Snape smirked, as he slipped his wand back into his trousers' pocket.
Harry stomped his foot, and his face grew red.
Snape leant in close enough for Harry to feel his hot breath tickle his cheek.
"Perhaps it is unfair of me to punish you for what comes out of your mouth, while under the influence of this potion, but I've never been accused of being fair Mr. Potter, now have I?" He said snidely.
A plethora of profanities were running through Harry's mind, as he glared angrily up into his Professor's dark eyes.
Snape pointed towards the sink-full of frothy suds, of which Draco was staring down forlornly in to.
"I will remove the silencing spell, but I suggest that you find some way of controlling your flapping gums, or I will be forced to come up with some very creative methods of counter-acting the potion's effects."
"Now. Get. To. Work," he bit out the words, as he pointed a long, potion-stained finger towards the sink full of dirty dishes."
"Draco," he said silkily. "I will be inspecting the dishes to assure that they have indeed been cleaned and dried properly, so if you have any notions about slacking off and doing a less than thorough job on them, I have a multitude of cauldrons to be scrubbed and potions ingredients to be chopped and stored in phials.
"And Draco..." he nodded towards the obvious form of Draco's hand clutching onto his wand in his pocket, "you need not worry about the Ministry's reaction should you be caught doing underage magic, because you'll have to escape my wrath first."
Draco gulped.
His father had always allowed him to do magic at home, and even went so far as to teach him some Dark Magic. Of course this was a Muggle neigbourhood, and magic would be detected in a heartbeat.
HP SS DM
"Uh, grmm, blah blah blah..."
"Mr. Potter! May I ask what the hell you are doing?" Snape growled.
Harry looked up petulantly at the Potions Master, from his perch on the edge of the battered sofa.
"I'm testing to see if my voice is working," he snapped.
"If you do not wish to lose it again permanently, I suggest that you refrain from making nonsensical noises, and work your tone of voice into a more acceptable one," he said snidely.
"Yes sir," Harry said, grinding his teeth; at this rate, his teeth would be ground down to a fine powder by the end of the summer," he thought angrily.
Severus pinched the bridge of his nose. His patience was wearing thin, and he honestly didn't know how he was going to keep his sanity, while saddled with two very demanding teens. He was still furious over the boy's display of foolhardiness; imagine flying their brooms indoors! If truth be told though, he was not quite as furious as he made the boys believe.
If Potter and Draco had found a common ground and were able to put their differences aside, at least till school began again, it would make his job that much easier. He wasn't naive enough to believe that the boys were going to suddenly put aside three years of animosity so easily, but it was a beginning. He wasn't eager to have his home turned into a battle-ground.
Both boys were emotionally damaged, and he could not see how he could possibly provide the necessary support that they needed; he was a loner by choice, not by necessity; he'd never been comfortable laying his cards on the table, and he while he felt that he could provide protection, a stable, structured environment for both boys, helping them to heal emotionally, was beyond his capabilities.
In addition to taking care of the needs of these children, Severus had to deal with the new task that the Headmaster had assigned him. However was he to jumble the responsibilities of mentoring two teenage boys, protecting the Boy-Who-Lived from the newly risen Dark Lord, fulfilling his newly assigned duty as a spy for Order, and somehow keep Draco from following in the footsteps of his sadistic, bastard of a father.
As if the subject of his thoughts could hear him, loud banging on the front door, made the walls shake.
"Severus," a familiar, haughty voice called.
Severus' eyes widened. Lucius Malfoy was at his front door.
He looked down into Harry's startled green eyes.
Harry jumped up angrily. He hadn't forgotten Malfoy's part in Cedric's death.
Severus clamped a firm hand down on his shoulder, before Harry could utter a word.
"Come Potter," he said frantically, "You cannot be seen here."
"Draco," he looked at the boy, who had climbed halfway up the stairs. "Do you wish to see your father?"
Draco's already pale face turned the colour of sour milk.
He shook his head.
At Draco's stricken look, Severus squeezed his shoulder and said, "Stay out of sight.. I'll make an excuse to your father."
Draco let out a sigh of relief; he had no desire to see his father.
Harry was struggling to get free from Snape's vice-like grip; logic had flown out the window, Harry just wanted to get his hands on Malfoy, and be damned the consequences.
"Be still you idiot boy!" Snape growled. "Malfoy cannot know you are here. Now settle down," he ordered, pulling Harry up the stairs; Draco followed, his knees shaking.
Severus yanked open the door of the broom closet and shoved both boys inside.
As darkness enveloped them; the only light in the small, cramped space, filtering in from the keyhole, Harry felt his heart beat frantically against his ribcage, sweat trickled down his brow, his hands felt clammy; his chest burnt from trying to draw breath into lungs that felt too small. He felt something drop down from the ceiling and crawl down his arm.
He fell to his knees, and whimpered, "No please. No please, Uncle Vernon, not the cupboard, please not the cupboard."