"Draco my son, let me tell you something. I may be in a good mood but by no means will I allow you to challenge me like this. You will guard Harry and watch him. This is my first real task to you and if you fail me…" Draco winced at what that would entail. His father nodded in satisfaction as the points hit home.

"Yes father." Draco kept his gaze downwards, as submissive as possible.

"Very good. Leave." Draco turned around and left, his head still swimming a bit. His father had manipulated McGonagall into declaring war officially on them so there was a greater blame percentage on the Gryffindor if this news got to the police. Hopefully, Draco thought, the war wouldn't expand onto civilian turf. Police usually turned a blind eye to gang workings since each family had a hold on the law enforcement. The police were bribed so much that they might as well just give up and call themselves privatized.

Draco shoved open the heavy doors and strode outside, sparing only a cursory glance at Snape, his bodyguard. The deathly pale, grim-faced man jogged a bit to catch up to Draco's fast walking. Other than the sound of breathing, it was a kind of quiet companionship between the two. Draco finally broke it.

"I can't believe that fucking…" His voice trailed off, making a gesture with his hands seemed the only way to really describe his father.

"Look at it this way, he is at your mercy is he not?" Snape's eyes looked at him solemnly, large black pools. It unnerved Draco.

"No, dad says I can't harm him at all. He does all that shit."

"Hm." Snape's face turned thoughtful.

"So, you asked him about the war?"

"Yeah." Draco scoffed at that. The only response his father had given him was 'it was necessary'. Fuck necessary, his father wanted political power like the Gryffindors.

"And how do you feel?"

"It's fucking stupid! We had a stranglehold on the drugs and slave trade. Why do we need political power? We have enough to keep us from prosecution. No one wants to touch us because they all have some connection with us; so why war with the Gryffindors?" Draco's voice was bitter-sounding. Of course he wouldn't like war, Severus reasoned to himself. Still…

"You have not grown like your father. He is power-hungry and will stop at nothing to control everything."

"Is that good?" Draco's voice was curious.

"Maybe. We will see." Snape hated to be so confusing and enigmatic but the truth was, we feared for the boy sometimes. He was worried on how the boy would handle the family once Lucius was gone. He had a good grasp of how to command and act powerful…but to be as ambitiously greedy as Lucius; to reach out and take power was something Snape thought Draco would balk from doing.

No, not balk, the boy was plain incapable of doing so.

Harry's eyes itched and he reached up to scratch them, only to realize that the wristcuffs held his writs in place. Damn, he thought, way to go back to prehistoric prisons. Although, Gryffindors probably held the record for the worst. He had been there and…some prisons still held human remains, forgotten and ancient. Harry shuddered. At least the Slytherin's was modern. He wondered what was happening, nobody had been down at the prison area and he felt like going stir-crazy over the quiet loneliness of it all. He needed to talk with people. It was how he was.

He cursed at his own stupidity, that he could get himself captured like that. If only he'd stayed in the bed like he was supposed to…how would it have been different? Maybe home-court advantage? May be the Slytherins wouldn't have the guts to go to compound, though he reasoned to himself if whoever had tagged him had the guts to go so deep into Gryffindor territory as to be right next to the compound, ten more meters wouldn't have been a killer. But at least he'd be able to fight better. Maybe he could have thrown him from a window or called Sirius. Harry growled, his head swirling with so many what ifs that it hurt.

The door slammed and footsteps reverberated across the floor. Harry instantly tensed, getting ready for a confrontation. He slowed his breathing down, focusing on it.

"Get the fuck out." Oh if voices could scowl. Harry's head whipped around to see the thunderous face of Draco Malfoy and the impassive face of his bodyguard, Severus. Severus' face held a sort of calm disdain to it that riled Harry up instantly.

"What do you mean? In case it slipped your notice…handcuffs and bars? Oh wait, that's kinky." Harry grinned at Draco in a flirtatious manner. His eyes, however, liked Dumbledore's, were calculating and boring into Draco's to see his expression. Draco didn't disappoint. There was a spark of something in his eyes, Harry wouldn't call it annoyance or a kind of prudish anger. He didn't know what to put it under.

"Keep your sick fantasies to yourself, Potter." Snape's thin, slightly peevish voice responded instead of Draco's voice.

"I didn't ask you, windbag." Harry snarled, instantly irritated at this man. He didn't know why he hated him so much as the man had only spoken a sentence to him; the first sentence he had ever spoken to Harry. He put it up on his appearance. Chalk-white with a thin face like melting wax and a slightly stooped figure Severus looked more the evil antagonist in a Disney movie than a real man.

"Careful with your words. I distinctly remembered you being behind bars here." Malfoy sneered at Harry.

"Not if you look at it from my view-point." Harry grinned up at them, seeing Severus' fists tightening in some barely controlled need to strangle Harry. Thankfully, there were bars between them. Draco merely looked amused. Harry gritted his teeth; he didn't want to see Draco amused, he wanted to see the fucker riled up and as angry as his whole family had made Harry!

"Well considering you are now a P.O.W, you should pay attention, ne?"

"P.O.W…Fuck you all!" Harry's violent yell could have shaken the walls. Draco winced at the sheer volume and anger pent-up in that voice. That kid seriously needed anger-therapy sessions.

"That's not too nice now since I'm gong to be the one to watch over you. See…my father wants me to take you around and guard you will still leading you around the house. basically, you're like a servant-ish to us because my dad likes to use people for all they're worth." Draco scowled. He hated his father, making him do a shit job like this.

"That's really fucking smart of him. What happens if I bolt?" Harry's voice, though teasing, held the beginnings of a threat to it. Son of a bitch…

"Son of a bitch…I'll flay you alive after my father does," Draco snapped angrily.

"You mean you'll beat my ass after your father beats both out asses in?" Harry retorted glibly, his eyes shining with something. Draco suppressed a growl. He felt for Snape now, really. The other man looked like he would tear Harry's throat out with his bare teeth if he could.

"You know what…Severus…just do it."

"Of course." Severus looked all too happy as he produced a thin metal canister and shook the contents inside. Harry's eyes widened as Snape leaned over to spray the contents in Harry's general direction. Draco wisely backed-off holding his breath to prevent inhaling the fumes. Harry slumped silently. Holding in his breath, Snape quickly unlocked the door and manacles, placed small handcuffs on Harry and picking the boy us, began to fireman carry him to the door. Draco followed behind closely. Both men didn't dare to breathe until they were out on the other side of the door.

Harry, once again, found himself waking up chained and sore though the location was considerably different. One hand was handcuffed to a thick, oak post that on closer inspection was the fourth leg of a truly magnificent bed. Which made this room a bedroom, Harry's stupid side provided. The bedroom was an outstanding example of Classical Italian architecture. It was filled with vaults, flourishes, marble pillars and an impossibly high ceiling that held a replica of Michelangelo's The Creation of Adam. Whoever had this bedroom had money and good, if rather grandiose and overblown, tastes. Harry's bedroom, for all his wealth, was a simple affair. Dark blue themed with a small bed that was more apt as a cot.

"Like it? It was my father's. I hate flashy things." Draco's voice, once again, interrupted his thoughts.

"Would have never guessed." Harry snorted.

"Well I do. This is what my father wanted by guarding you."

"Wow, smooth Malfoy. Handcuffing me to a bed post after knocking me out? What next? Black fuck-me boots and a whip? I'll bet you have those."

"I'll pistol whip you is what's next if you don't shut up." Draco was in no mood to deal with this shit. He had to go see Daphne again and had only come to see Harry because he needed clothes from his wardrobe, a monstrosity of overwrought wood and cherubs and other such stupid shit.

"You couldn't. You've got limp wrists…like a gay guy," Harry taunted, his eyes sparkling. God, Draco did not just think Harry fucking Potter's eyes were sparkling.

"I'm not a fag and I will do it."

"Bring it, bitch." That proved to be the last straw and snarling, he drew out his Beretta and brought it hard on Harry's temple. The boy grunted but executed a quick flinch that was designed to roll the force so the crack didn't knock him out. It still wounded him though and Draco could see a thin line of blood snaking down his face. However, seeing that blood calmed Draco down. He wasn't supposed to harm Harry but…he'd make something up. The stupid idiot fell on the stairs or something.

"Don't make me do that again." Draco muttered. He didn't want to keep making excuses if Harry continued his insult-a-thon.

"Make me." Oh my god this was going to be one long-ass war.

Draco didn't bother replying and grabbing a random set of clothes, decided to change in the bathroom. If somebody didn't knock before entering…well it was their grave.

Harry smirked to himself at a job well done. Draco had left the room positively seething with his oh-so-delicate complexion rumpled by a furious blush. Harry would endure ten pistol-whippings to get Draco worked up like that again.

That had taken his mind, only temporarily off the war. So…he had heard Sirius and Mad-Eye talk about it when they though he wasn't listening. It had been everyone's concern until Slytherin pushed a new 'cease-fire' agreement only two days ago. That had thrown everyone off until now. He didn't know why Lucius would bother doing that although for the record, it was probably McGonagall who declared war. When the woman was riled up, which was very rare, she made bad decisions.

But then again, he wasn't a hostage. He was P.O.W. who was sitting on very expensive rugs in the bedroom of the Malfoy family heir. There was something too surreal about all this.

His head hurt again, side effects he always got after being sedated, but it looked like he'd have a long time to figure things out.

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A/N: School's starting tomorrow so updates will come slower. Sorry!