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Harry woke with a start. The hair rose on the back of his neck and his breathing was shallow and rapid.

Someone was in his room.

He Looked up at the figure at the end of his bed, clad in shadows and mystery in the darkness. His heart pumping, he slowly sat up a little way and edged his fingers towards his wand.

"Don't even think about it, Potter..." Warned the angry shape.

Malfoy?

Harry sat up and watched as Malfoy slowly walked over to the side of the bed before sitting down on the edge.

The moonlight highlighted his blond hair, beautiful streaks of platinum and gold. Harry could not help but to gaze at it.

"You woke me up screaming again," Malfoy was saying, "You obviously didn't hear me through the door so I had to come in. Normally, I'd just cast a charm to block out the sound, but since you have my wand…"

Harry had taken Draco's replacement wand when he had first allowed the boy sanctuary. He had thought it prudent at the time but had grown a little guilty since. Taking a wizard's wand was withdrawing his access to his magic. It would be like chopping off a limb to a muggle.

Having woken up a little, Harry realised his skin was coated in a thin film of sweat. He mopped his forehead unconsciously and avoided meeting Malfoy's eyes. He hated the look of pity the Slytherin was giving him.

"Maybe…" Malfoy said quietly, "Maybe if you talked about these nightmares you'd stop having them?"

Harry rolled his eyes and scoffed. Just what he needed: being psychoanalyzed by Draco Malfoy!

"You must be joking," Harry answered wearily. He pulled his blanket up over his shoulder and gave Draco his back.

To his annoyance, the other youth did not move.

"You're ridiculous, Potter!" Malfoy spat.

"Why are you still here? Go back to sleep."

"Not until you tell me what you're dreaming about."

"Why should I?"

"Fine!" Draco finally got the message and got off the bed, his footsteps echoing in the large, dark room until he stopped by the door.

"It's like when we first met," Malfoy said from the far end of the room, "I offered to help you fit in at Hogwarts and you rejected me out of spite. Think how different both of our lives would have been if you'd have given me a chance!"

Harry did a double take, not quite believing what he was hearing. Before he could respond, the door slammed shut and the room fell silent again.

Harry rolled onto his back and stared at the star-covered ceiling. He growled in anger. Malfoy was completely wrong, he wasn't refusing his help out of spite, he was refusing because he was Malfoy! Why would he, Harry, bare his innermost turmoil to a boy who had bullied and picked on him from the first day of Hogwarts?

Harry reflected in the dark about his dream:

The mist from the bubbling cauldrons filled the air as Harry walked slowly through the potions dungeon. The only light in the room was the soft orange glow from the fires under each of the student's stations, though curiously, the room at first glance was deserted.

His breath stopped and his heart rate increased on spying the lonely shape of Severus Snape standing still as a statue at the front of the room. There was something really odd about the way he was standing, almost weightless dangling just above the ground.

Harry looked to the right of himself and saw Dumbledore, sitting silently in the front desk. The elderly wizard was wearing his best hat, complete with a colourful bouquet of flowers of every colour and bright purple robes. The cheerful attire had drawn Harry closer until he was level to the former headmaster, though Dumbledore did not seem to notice him.

He turned his attention back to Snape and gasped, his mouth contorting into a silent scream of horror.

Snape was dangling from the ceiling from black wires. They had been pushed through his hands, wrists, back and head, the bloody knots visible as they protruded from his robes and flesh. Pools of blood had gathered under his mutilated body, his face hidden by his long, greasy hair.

Harry shook his head and looked to Dumbledore, who had turned to face him, a sinister smile plastered on his face.

Dumbledore raised his wand, his blue eyes fixed on Harry, and started to move the strings magically, moving Snape like a puppet devoid of free will.

Harry started walking backwards away from the grisly sight, his mind recoiling in terror.

The last thing he had seen before he had woken up had been Snape's dead eyes, staring at him in the gloom.

Harry shook his head and started to feel breathless. He took a deep breath for a count of five before slowly releasing it again, repeating until the panic attack had subsided.

Perhaps Malfoy was right. Maybe talking about it would be useful…

He sat up, put his glasses on and climbed gingerly out of bed. His eyes flicked to his two way mirror sadly before settling on the ancient writing desk in the corner.

He pulled out a piece of parchment and started writing.

Dear Hermione,

How are things at Hogwarts? I hope you're at the top of every class as usual.

He paused and let his mind take him back to school for a moment. The companionship, the adventures...his heart yearned for the relatively safe periods in his earlier years and how free he'd felt on a broom...

I wondered if you had any time to meet me in the Leaky Cauldron? It's been ages, I thought you may like a catch up?

Love and best wishes,

Harry

He reread the letter a few times, making sure his anxiety had not made its way into his ink, before sealing it up and writing Hermione's name on the front.

Thinking of his old school friend fondly, he felt better already.

Another pang of sorrow as he remembered he'd have to floo to the nearest owlery to send it since Hedwig was gone, and he had crossed the room again and climbed into bed.

He slowly relaxed and let his eyes slip shut, breathing deeply and sighing as he drifted to sleep.


Harry woke abruptly with pain radiating from his head. He twisted over on the hard bedroom floor and fought to untangle himself from his blankets. Finally freed, he gasped and held his head until the thudding stopped.

He piled his blankets back on the bed he had fallen out of, grateful he had not chosen a higher one, and padded to the bathroom.

To his annoyance, the door did not move. He hammered his fists on it until he heard an angry reply from inside.

"Go away, Potter! I'm in the bath!"

"Use your own bathroom!" Harry yelled.

"Make it as grand as this one and I will! Until then-go away!"

Harry gritted his teeth and kicked the bottom of the door before giving up and traipsing down the stairs.

I should just hand him over to the Aurors. That'd teach him! He thought bitterly.

He stopped in the doorway of the kitchen and stared, confused, at the table. There were two places set at it, using the finest crockery and cutlery in the house. The glasses had been filled with what looked like fresh orange juice and a pot of tea sat proudly in the centre of the table. Harry turned his attention to the oven which was filling the room with the most delicious scent of baking pastry.

Harry was dumbfounded. He walked slowly into the room and sat in one of the seats, sniffing the orange juice before drinking some.

The cool liquid flowed down his throat in the most refreshing way. For a moment, the tangy taste of orange was enough to take his mind off his troubles.

"After yesterday, I had a look through the cupboards in here," Draco's voice came from by the door.

Harry started and turned to see Malfoy standing in the doorway. The youth was wearing dark, silk boxer shorts and a fitted black t-shirt, showcasing his toned body.

Harry presumed he was a little envious of the other boy as he could hardly tear his eyes away. He also found himself remembering Draco's bare torso under the t-shirt.

He sniffed and glanced at the oven, half out of curiousity, half to distract himself from the flesh on show.

"Croissants," Draco explained, walking to the oven and removing the pastries with an oven glove, "Found loads in the pantry…"

"We have a pantry?" Harry asked, surprised.

Malfoy grinned triumphantly and transferred the croissants to a silver serving platter, placed it between them on the table and sat down opposite.

Saying nothing which may give any satisfaction, Harry took one and grabbed the butter before tearing at his breakfast and enjoying the way it seemed to melt in his mouth.

Malfoy did the same and the two ate in silence before Harry's irritation got the better of him.

"Ok-what's this about?" He snapped, dropping his food onto his plate and glaring across the table, "If you think this is going to make me 'open up to you' or whatever, you're about to have an ugly reality check…"

Harry felt immediately guilty as a look of genuine hurt crossed Draco's face. The Slytherin took a quick sip from his glass before answering.

"I actually just wanted to do something to thank you for helping me, actually. I also thought that you may be struggling a little bit after all the nightmares last night...you don't eat enough anyway…" He trailed off uncharacteristically before fixing his signature smirk on his face again. "Besides, Potter: some of us are used to rather more luxury than you have been providing. Would it kill you to demonstrate a little class?"

Harry much preferred Draco's usual persona to the concern so he chose to smirk back and roll his eyes.

Breakfast went by, punctuated with playful gabs at each other. Malfoy eventually retired upstairs declaring since he had cooked, Harry had to wash up.

Harry cast the Scouring Charm on the plates in the sink and helped himself to a cup of tea, smiling.

As he sipped it, he realised he had started to quite enjoy Malfoy's company. At the very least, they were keeping each other's minds off their separate problems…

Harry thought of Snape and the late Lucius Malfoy, his heart swelling with sympathy. He had never liked either man, certainly, but their fates made him feel nausea whenever he remembered.

He glanced out of the window wistfully at the grand garden beyond the doors, yet another project he had been ignoring.

Draco had yet to speak of his father's death, his mother's arrest or Snape's capture. Harry put his tea down and crossed his arms, furrowing his brow in thought. Perhaps he, Harry, was not the only one refusing to discuss his feelings…


Snape had not slept in several days. His eyelids were very heavy but the intense pain throbbing from where Arto had branded him had remained constant.

They had left him alone which had been a mixed blessing. He wasn't hungry, the pain he was in had seen to that, but he had eked out the glass of water he had been given more than three days previously and was dangerously thirsty.

His mind was also starting to play tricks on him and he had taken to talking out loud to himself.

"They'll kill me eventually, they won't leave me here to die on my own…" He reassured himself while picking anxiously at his callused thumb. "It'd be too much fun to watch me dying, they won't leave me here…"

He shook his head and sat up, placing his feet carefully on the floor. He swallowed slightly which hurt his dry throat.

"They won't leave me to die on my own…" He told himself again. To keep himself busy, Snape stood and started hobbling around his small cell, counting the cracks in the stone.

There had been forty seven the day before. He had allowed himself a smile for finding two which he had missed the day before.

"I'd have done anything for this much free time when I was teaching…" He chuckled, losing count and retracing his steps.

He jumped as he heard tutting behind him.

"Gone mad already, have you?" Arto asked. He leaned against the bars menacingly, his dark eyes full of glee in the dim light.

Snape tried not to recoil and stood with his hands clamped across the front of his prison robes, feet slightly apart.

"I can assure you I have retained my sanity," He replied as evenly as he could, "What's more, I shall be reporting ill treatment when I am collected for my sentencing hearing."

His vision swam a little though he was determined to stay upright, not wishing to convey any weakness.

He narrowed his eyes as Arto began laughing.

"You-Know-Who's inner cycle have either been killed already or have had secret trials. Only direct family members were informed. I'm guessin' since there weren't no one at your trial, you either don't have any family or they hate you as much as everyone else does. Basically: you're outta luck, mate…"

The reality dawned on Snape as he turned over the information in his head.

"Yeah, that's right," Arto said sadistically, his eyes narrowing, "No one knows you're here and no one is coming to save you."

Snape scoffed and looked away, attempting to control his emotions. Panic was rising in his chest as he fought to control his face.

"I expect execution…" He said quietly, "When do you intend to carry this out? I demand to know."

Arto grinned and reached for his keys. He fiddled with the lock until the door swung open.

Snape found himself pressing back into the stone wall, putting as much distance between himself and the guard as possible.

Snape's eyes flicked down to Arto's hand, spying his wand.

"Where's your master now, eh?" Arto asked, walking like a cat stalking its prey. "The man who killed The Great Dumbledore...not so tough without your friends, are you?"

The Slytherin watched helplessly as the wand came up and flashed. A thousand needles forced their way under his skin, burning him from the inside out. He screamed and convulsed painfully but the agony was everywhere.

Just as he had given up hope of ever knowing anything but pain again, it stopped.

Severus felt giddy and rolled around on the floor, groaning, incapable of any further thought. His eyes stayed firmly clamped shut and his face remained a mask of pain.

"What're you doing, mate?" Another man was heard saying.

"I'm just seeing how he likes the Cruciatus Curse, just a bit of fun…" Arto answered.

Snape opened his eyes slightly, noticing one of the other guards talking in an urgent whisper to his torturer.

"We said no wands," He was saying, "We'll end up in here with them if we get caught using an Unforgivable Spell!"

He watched Arto roll his eyes, sneer down at him, then walk out of the cell and down the corridor, leaving himself and the other guard in the room together.

The guard reached his water glass and tapped it with his wand, refilling it. He started to leave but Snape found the strength to call him back.

"Please, when can I have more water?" He asked croakily, "It's just it was days last time and I'm thirsty, I need to know if I'm getting more soon or…?"

The guard simply smirked cruelly and slammed the gate.

"Please, wait!" Snape managed to get onto his elbows, "I need to know if I need to ration it...please..?"

His pleas fell on deaf ears and the man walked out of sight, leaving the wizard alone again.

To be Continued...