Disclaimer and warnings in first chapter. Oh yeah- that's the last of anything even resembling blood play. Sorry I didn't give a warning about that.

This chapter is delightfully long. It took three days to write! No, four, maybe five. Sixteen whole pages, people.

I quite enjoyed all of your theories. Shout outs to for guessing (okay, deducing) the proper answers, yay for Erroneously, StoryTagger and CrayonsPink. Kudos to Mervoparkite and PanickedSerenity for giving their theories about the boys' reactions. I was surprised. No one talked about the second, communal oath, they had to swear.

(RG- How can I get a hold of you? If you review to leave an email and/or link, please do it with spaces. FF will take it out otherwise)

Now, I know you are all eager for the sex. Next chapter. I promise!

Warning: This chapter is mostly flashback, indicated by italics. There will be child abuse (mild physical abuse, mostly verbal and emotional. No sexual abuse. There will be the abandonment of a child. There will be torture and death. If this any of this is a trigger for you, please be wary. This is probably the darkest chapter (overall) that is in this story.)

Chapter Four: Your Memories are My Memories

A blonde boy, no older than five, clutching a well-loved stuffed dragon, ran through the glittering halls of an opulent manor. He laughed and raced around a corner, only to collide with a hard pair of legs. The little boy jumped back, thrusting the dragon behind his back and desperately trying to school his face.

"Draco." The man who owned the pair of legs the boy had run into drawled.

"Yes, father?" Draco murmured, fixing his eyes on the floor, and realized with horror that his shoes were untied.

"What is the rule about running?" Draco's father was perfectly cold as he stared the little boy down.

"There will never be any running, sir. If I need to get somewhere in a hurry I will adopt a long stride." The tiny mouth did not stumble over the phrasing.

"Why were you running, son?"

"No excuse, sir." Draco whispered, trying to hold back tears.

"Very well," Lucius said chillingly. "Give me your dragon."

"B-but…" The little boy protested.

"Now, Draco." Draco hugged his only, beloved friend one more time, before handing him over. He had lost his fight with his tears. He shook as Mr. Dragon left his hands.

"You may have it back in two weeks." Lucius gave Draco a cold glance. "Malfoys do not cry." Draco's father strode off. He left the little boy standing in the hall, tears pouring down his face and not a sound emerging from his lips.

* * * * *

Draco was not much older. He was sitting in the library practicing his penmanship, when his father entered.

"How may I help you sir?" The boy asked politely.

"It is time for the next step of your education to begin, my son. Come along." Draco slid off his chair, eager to please. He only came to his father's hip. Lucius led him out of the library. They were way-laid by Draco's mother at the doors.

"Lucius, he is not old enough."

"He is plenty old."

"He is six!" Narcissa shrieked.

"We have had this discussion, Narcissa. We will not discuss the matter again." Draco looked up at his mother with wide curious eyes.

"It's all right, Mother. I always enjoy father's lessons." Draco's mother made a small choking noise and swept away, stopping only to drop a kiss on Draco's fine blond locks.

"I love you, dragon." And then she disappeared down the hall.

Lucius led Draco down to the dungeons. Draco looked around in curiosity- he had never been down here before. It was not allowed.

It was scary down here. It was dark. Draco didn't like the dark. He didn't like the dark at all. He crept a little closer to his father. Lucius led him into one of the dimly lit cells. Sitting quivering in the corner was Draco's old nursery elf, Luney. Of course, Draco did not need a nursery elf now that he was six. He was practically a man after all!

"Why is Luney down here, father?"

"It has outlived it's usefulness to us." Draco's father sneered. "It can serve to teach you this lesson, at least. Stand in the corner Draco."

Draco backed into the corner. His father strode over to the quaking house elf. What was father going to do?

He cast a spell Draco had never heard before, and all of Luney's toes snapped. Draco's eyes widened drastically and he backed further into the corner.

"Everyone but we and other Pureblood wizards deserve pain, Draco. This is the lesson you will learn today."

Lucius snapped his wand again and Luney's fingers fell off. The house elf was shrieking in her no longer familiar voice. Once this had been the voice that had told him stories and sung him songs about great heroes. No longer.

Lucius chopped Luney's hand off. Draco vomited.

Draco could only watch, because when he turned away, his father caught him in a body bind. He could only watch as Luney went mad from the pain, as blood and guts spilled onto the floor. And his father laughed or grinned maniacally.

"Crucio." Lucius said calmly. Luney's screamed reached a new pitch. A puddle collected at Draco's feet. His heart beat faster than it ever had. He was so scared. And so mad. How could his father do this? Luney was good- she had always been good. If his father was so wrong about this, maybe he was wrong about other things too? But if Draco told him that, would his father hurt him like this?

"Avada Kedavra."

*

Next time it was a newly born house elf.

Sometimes his father tortured- and Draco knew it was torture- dogs.

One time it was a muggle.

But mostly it was just house elves.

He didn't kill all of them. Draco thought that was worse.

* * * * *

Draco had never met another child before. Well except those oafs Crabbe and Goyle- but they were hardly children, were they?

He hoped another boy would come into Madam Malkin's. Maybe he would make his very first friend. Draco sent a mental apology to Mr. Dragon who was quite securely hiding under his bed. Not even Mum knew Draco still had him. And he would keep it that way. He would not be seen as weak or childish. He would just survive until he was seventeen and challenge his father to a duel like he had been planning since he was eight.

A boy, who was smaller than Draco even, came into the store. Draco's heart started beating faster and faster. He just had to make a good impression, like Mum always said, and then everything would work out.

"Hello," He tired to smile, but he was afraid it came out more like a grimace. "Hogwarts, too?"

"Yes." The other boy said. Maybe he was shy? But wasn't the boy supposed to say something now? That was how conversations went, right? Nervously Draco blanked his voice and tried to make conversation.

"My father's next door buying my books and mother's up the street looking at wands. Then I'm going to drag them off to look at racing brooms." Every boy liked Quidditch, right? This must be a safe subject. "I don't see why first years can't have their own. I think I'll bully father into getting me one and I'll smuggle it in somehow." Draco tried to joke, but the other boy didn't laugh. What was Draco doing wrong?

"Have you got your own broom?" Draco asked, peeking up from under his lashes. He didn't know what he had done wrong.

"No." The other boy's voice wasn't very friendly. It was cold and mad. It reminded him of his father.

"Play Quidditch at all?" Draco asked, trying again.

"No." Oh. Well maybe that was what Draco did wrong. If the other boy didn't play...

"I do-" Draco said, unsure what else to say. "Father says it's a crime if I'm not picked to play for my house, and I must say, I agree." Not really. Draco knew he wasn't very good. But it was always best to agree with his father.

"Know what house you'll be in yet?" Draco asked, the boy obviously wasn't very fond of this topic.

"No." Maybe he just didn't like Draco?

Draco talked about the houses- of course he would be in Slytherin. Nothing else was acceptable.

"I say, look at that man!" Draco called, spotting a giant man out the window. He'd never seen a man that big before. He was even taller than father! He frightened Draco a little. Big men were dangerous- they could hurt people even more than little ones could.

As usual when Draco was scared, he lashed out. He wouldn't let other people see he was afraid. It mattered what they thought. It mattered lots and lots.

And then father was outside the window and the boy said he was Muggleborn. Draco said what he had to say. He didn't want to be punished.

* * * * *

Potter didn't make any sense and people who didn't make any sense were dangerous.

Draco played his game- he was always good at acting, and everything was going to plan. And then the Dark Lord came back. And there were more Muggles to torture, and more games to play.

Charlie snuck out of the house. Mum was going to start their lessons soon, and Charlie didn't want to. He didn't like to read, it was hard. Bill could read lots and lots. Billy was really smart. Mum got annoyed with Charlie. Charlie didn't want to be inside, he didn't want to learn his letters and he didn't want to learn arithmetic.

He did want to go see the Pixie colony that lived in the trees behind the Burrow. That would be much more fun.

* * * * *

"Please, mum, can't I keep him?" Charlie looked up at his mum with sad eyes from where he sat on the floor with his new kitten. He had wandered up from the muggle village in the rain. The kitten sneezed.

Mum sighed. That was a good sign. She was going to say yes. Ginny, who was just a baby and cried like Ronnie, Fred and George used to, began to wail from the other room and Charlie knew he was going to get what he wanted.

"Oh, all right, Charlie. But you take good care of him, you here?"

"Thanks mum!" Charlie yelled and reached to give his mum a hug, but she had all ready gone to check on Ginny. That was all right, though, 'cause Charlie had a new pet.

"I'll call you Sneeze." Charlie told the kitten solemnly. He picked the pathetic bundle up and carried him up to his room. Charlie and Billy had rooms on the second floor. Percy did too.

Charlie carefully introduced Sneeze to all his other pets.

"This is Blue. He's a frog and you aren't allowed to eat him, all right?" Sneeze purred. "And these are the dancing mice- you can't eat them either." He went through the owl, Errol, and the tortoise, Edmund, the Cornish pixies and his ant farm.

When Sneeze was properly introduced to all of his new roommates, Charlie set him down and started teaching the cat about dragons.

* * * * *

Charlie shuffled his feet as he Bill and got off the Hogwarts Express.

"What's wrong, Charlie?" Bill asked, waving to his friends. Bill was awfully popular.

"Nothing." Charlie said, rearranging Sneeze's carrier.

"And I'm Godric." Bill said with a smile. "Come on now. You must be excited to be getting home? I thought you missed mum and dad…"

Charlie shrugged.

Bill frowned now and dragged him off to a corner of the station where there parents wouldn't find them. Charlie looked up at his only older brother, his mop of red ringlets falling into his eyes.

"What happened Charlie?"

"I'm stupid." Charlie muttered.

"What?!" Bill cried, crouching down. Bill had grown a lot this year, he was a lot taller than Charlie now. The eleven year old sighed.

"You're not stupid Charlie."

"I am. I can't do anything right."

"Look, Charlie…"

"Look Billy!" Charlie cried, and a couple tears fell out of his eyes as he thrust a folded parchment at his older brother.

Bill gently unfolded it and considered the contents.

"Your first year exam scores don't mean anything," Bill tried to console.

"You're just saying that because you got all O's!" Charlie screamed and ran off, tears clouding his eyes.

* * * * *

Charlie clutched his broom and looked at the Quidditch pitch with wide excited eyes.

"All right, prospective seekers, mount your brooms." Charlie scrambled onto his broom. He jumped into the air and spiraled in tight circles, laughing with joy.

"I'm letting out ten practice snitches, the person who catches the most, flies the most expertly and doesn't have injuries at the end is the winner!" Charlie shot up into the air. He flew circles around everyone else, faster, lighter and more buoyant then they could ever hope to be.

He caught six snitches.

* * * * *

Charlie first kissed a bloke when he was thirteen. End of semester exams were coming up, and Charlie was more than a little stressed out. He was up in the Astronomy tower, making up stories about the constellations.

"Hey Charlie." Another boy said from the doorway. Charlie recognized him as the captain of the Hufflepuff Quidditch team.

"Hi, Johnny."

Johnny moved forward, a glint in his eye.

"What…" Charlie asked, as the older boy lunged at him. And then there was a warm pair of lips on his. He let out a little moan, and Johnny swept his tongue inside Charlie's mouth…

* * * * *

"Oh, Charlie."

Charlie winced. Mum sounded so sad. Dad didn't look much better. They held the paper with his O.W.L scores.

"I got an O in Care of Magical Creatures." Charlie pointed out uselessly. His other dismal grades far out weighed his single good grade.

A's in Charms, DADA and Astronomy. P's in Transfiguration and History of Magic. D's in Potions and Ancient Runes, which he only took because Bill liked it, anyway.

"Charlie, didn't you study, dear?" Mum always got this way. Like Charlie purposefully blew his tests off like the twins.

"Just say it all ready," he said. "I know I'm an idiot. And of course I studied."

He ran out of the room. There was a new bird living outside who would not think he was stupid.

* * * * *

Charlie never got drunker than the night he graduated Hogwarts. He was so glad to be out of school. So very, very glad. And next week he would move to live in a Dragon reserve in Romania, and he would be the best dragon handler they ever saw, because he wasn't good at anything but helping animals, playing Quidditch, and kissing.

* * * * *

Charlie wasn't the best dragon handler at the reserve, but he found that it didn't really matter. He knew what he was doing, had a good head for animals and medical magic. He found people, but that too didn't matter so much anymore. He was good at what he did, and he liked what he did, and nobody ever thought he was stupid.

Mummy and Daddy were fighting again, so Remy was outside where he couldn't hear them fight. It was a pretty night. When he was with Grandpapa on his farm on nights like these, Grandpapa told him stories about the constellations while they lied on the barn roof. Now Remy only lied on the ground, and he couldn't really make out any stars, because there were too many lights.

Remus sighed. He heard a growl and perked up. He liked doggies. He propped himself on his arms and looked around for the doggy, but didn't see one.

Then there was a really big doggy in front of him. It was scarier than any of the doggies at Grandpapa's farm. Remy tried to get up and run, but the doggy was on top of him, and biting him, and it hurt, and it hurt so bad…

* * * * *

"Goodbye, Remus." Mummy said stiffly. "We'll see you for Christmas."

Then his parents were gone. They weren't coming back for a long time.

Remy looked up at his Grandpapa with wide eyes, "What did I do wrong?"

"Oh pup, you didn't do anything wrong." Grandpapa swept him up in a big hug. Nobody had hugged him since the werewolf bit him. Remy melted into the embrace and started to cry.

* * * * *

Grandpapa's farm was lots of fun. There were dogs to play with, lessons to learn, and cooking to do with Marta, the cook and maid. And there were miles and miles to run in, even when he was a wolf, because Grandpapa had the best wards on his farm, and no one could get in or out if Grandpapa said so.

He only saw Mum and Dad on Christmas and his birthday, but Remus liked it that way. And there were no other children, but why did Remy need children when he had a dog pack, Grandpapa and Marta?

He didn't of course.

* * * * *

He had hurt Whistle, who was the boss dog. Remus had hurt him and he would never forgive himself. Ever. He understood now that his parents had left him at Grandpapa's because he was a werewolf, not because they didn't want him to see them fight. He understood now that being a werewolf was something to be ashamed of, and that nobody would think it was cool like he used to, and that his scars were disgusting.

*

Over the next couple years, no matter how many times told otherwise by friends and family, Remus always believed that the wolf was disgusting. His parents were right to leave him-otherwise they wouldn't have. And that was just the way it was. Gone was the freedom and peace of his younger days, of days where he would run in the fields of his Grandpapa's farm. It was too dangerous.

* * * * *

Remus hadn't realized how loud children were. Or how many children there were at Hogwarts. He still didn't think that he should be allowed to go, but Grandpapa had made a special deal with the Headmaster and had insisted he go.

Grandpapa leaned down and pulled him into a tight swift hug.

"Marta will send cookies. Write us soon, all right?"

"I don't want to leave you all alone, Grandpapa." Remus whispered, hugging his favorite person in the whole wide world tightly.

"I know my pup. But me and Marta are old and tough, we don't break so easy. But right us, or we'll get mighty lonely, you hear?"

"Yes, Grandpapa."

"That's my boy. Off you go now."

Remus hurried off, easily pulling his truck behind him and lifting it into the train before he set off to find a seat. There weren't any empty ones. Eventually Remus poked his head into a compartment with two boys who looked about his age, one of whom reminded him of the newest puppy, Whitefoot.

"Hullo." He greeted nervously. "May I sit here?"

And that was the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

* * * * *

Remus' whole world fell out from under him when Lily and James died and Padfoot was sent off to prison. He had been away for so long and not seen them because Marta was ill and he couldn't tell them about Grandpapa and Marta or the farm because they were a part of the Order of the Phoenix and were kept under such secrecy that no one but Albus even knew where they were. Of course, every member of the Order had heard of Alexander and Marta- they were famous in the order. But no one could know that Remus lived with them.

He went back there when Lily and James died. He did not leave for twelve years except to go to the funeral.

He only came back because Harry needed him. He would have been happy to have never left again.

Severus cringed away from his drunken father. He did not cry because that would only make matters worse. His father would call him a pansy then.

*

Severus was careful to be quiet. He did not want father to discover him sneaking Mum's magic books.

"What do you have there, boy?" Tobias snapped.

Oh no.

"I said, what do you have there boy!?"

Severus dropped the book as his hands shook.

"Studying more magic. And useless magic too- Potions. What good are they for anyone? Can't help your mother, can they, boy." Mum was really sick. But Tobias wouldn't let them find her a healer. "Get into position, boy."

"I'm sorry, sir." Sev whimpered, hurrying into his bedroom to brace himself against the bed. He could hear Tobias' belt slipping from its loop, and it whirled through the air.

* * * * *

"And what is the final step in a boil-cure potion, Mr. Lupin?"

Severus raised his hand. He knew the answer to all the questions- why wouldn't the teacher call on him?

Black bounced in his seat out of the corner of his eye, feigning raising his hand. Severus pulled his hand down, and stared at the table in despair. Nobody liked him. Of course nobody did, he was worthless and disgusting as his father said. He was ugly. Nobody would ever want to be friends with him.

*

What did it matter if people wanted to be friends with him, Severus asked himself years later. They couldn't brew Potions like he could. They were blithering idiots all of them, and who would be friends with them?

* * * * *

"And will you make whatever potions I desire, young Snape?" The cold voice asked in a deadly whisper.

"Whatever you desire," Severus murmured, "My lord."

"Ahh, you have brought me an intelligent youngster dear Lucius. But we must teach him a lesson or two before we accept him, don't you think?"

"Certainly, my lord." Came Lucius' voice.

"Bellatrix?"

"It's an honor, my lord." Simpered the Black bitch. All the Blacks were dogs in Severus' experience. Too bad they were pureblood, but oh well, he would have the chance to hurt other people, Muggles who hated like his father hated.

"Crucio!"

*

Severus regretted his decision. He regretted the mark on his arm. He would for the rest of his life. He had turned into his father. He caused innocents' pain to burn his own away. He did horrible, unspeakable things. He tortured and killed, men, women, children, who swum in his dreams at night, screaming, always screaming, begging for mercy he would never give.

* * * * *

Potter was an idiot just like the rest of them, Severus sneered. He had given the boy a chance, but no, he was an idiot, and if there was one thing Severus could not stand it was idiots…

* * * * *

Harry woke with a gasp, the recently acquired memories stored in his mind so he could look through them at any time. But he did not need to. He understood the men better than they probably understood themselves, and they were beautiful.

* * * * *

This is a helluva long chapter. So you must review. Reviews really do encourage me to write more. Anyway, hopefully the long chapter made up for the absence of sex.

What did you think of every one's pasts? Too much, too little, just right? Annoying, insight-giving? Can't wait to hear what you have to say!