Title: To the Moon Part 3
Author: Constant Vigilance
Status: FIN
Email: tirel@pcnuthut.com

Website: https://www.angelfire.com/tv2/firebird_ascending/
Rating: R for disturbing topics and language
Pairing: Harry/Draco (not while under the curse, however)
Spoilers: Some book 5 events. AU. Characters aged up to age of consent.
Warnings: Slash, implied rape/incest, violence, shmoopy WAFF in places
Disclaimer: I own nothing. JKR is God.
Summary: Draco is turned into a child. Harry takes care of him.
Notes: Written for Wave 1 of The Ebony and Ivory Fu-Q-fest found at http://mortal-moon.org/hdfqf/index.html

Challenges: 59.  Harry finds Draco crying.  (Minnie)

79.  Harry finds out what Draco sees when he's near a dementor. (Aeowen)

12.    Draco overhears a secret of Harry Potter...he likes a Slytherin.  (Minnie)

July 3:

Morning came gently to the dungeons. It was totally unlike Gryffindor tower where you were forced to sleep with your curtains closed or wake up with the sun baking your eyeballs. The high placed windows in the dungeon only allowed ambient light into the room. Harry found that it was just enough light to emphasize the ethereal quality of the small boy huddled in his arms.

He watched Draco sleeping; every now and then brushing a bit of hair from the boy’s eyes or just petting it’s softness. He had no idea that his crush from four days before would turn into this warm completeness he felt whenever Draco was in his arms. It was like Draco was meant to be there, be he 17 or five. Granted the feelings were different. Harry had wanted to kiss the 17-year-old until neither one was able to see straight. Harry just wanted to protect five-year-old Draco from anything that might hurt him. But the love was the same. Harry reveled in the miracle that brought the two of them together.

The rest of the morning was lazy. Harry eventually crawled out of bed and set out clothes for both himself and Draco before tickling the boy awake. He then carried the giggling armful down to the showers and cleaned them up. He was pleased to see that Draco wasn’t nearly as skittish today about showering with him. When they got back to the common room, they passed Greg and Vince on the way to their own shower and made arrangements to meet at breakfast.

After breakfast, Draco badgered everyone into playing exploding snap until lunchtime. After lunch, Harry had a surprise. He piggybacked Draco to the pitch. Draco’s wide eyes spoke more of thanks than words could manage. Harry forbade him to solo ride higher off the ground than a meter or so but gave in to ferrying him about at the longing look Draco gave the sky.

Eventually, they tired Greg and Vince out with their incessant flight antics and the two Slytherins headed inside for a snack. Harry and Draco continued to fly, making loops and spins. Harry even spun them upside down once, though he had a death grip on Draco’s waist to ensure his safety. Nearly two hours of nonstop flying had Draco red cheeked and gleaming with excitement.

But all good things must end, and so it did…with a frantic plea to be put on the ground and a head hung with shame. Harry didn’t even have to ask. Draco’s demeanor was telling him everything he needed to know. Harry picked Draco up, ignoring his humiliated squirming, and gently carried him back to the castle. He hugged the little boy to him, murmuring soothing acceptance in his ear until Draco just lay placidly on his shoulder, tears leaking out of dull grey eyes.

“I’m sorry, Harry,” he whispered as Harry pushed the infirmary door open.

“Nothing to be sorry about, poppet,” Harry kissed his hair. “We’re going to figure out how to fix this for you, all right?” Draco nodded but refused to lift his eyes. Harry left him standing by the entrance as he stepped inside to speak with Madam Pomfrey. Draco couldn’t hear what was being said, but he could just imagine. He remembered what his father had said about his…problem. He cringed just thinking about it.

So, he was a bit surprised and wary when the nurse knelt next to him smiling. “Hello again, Draco,” she held her hand out. He took it, his hand shaking. “Harry tells me you’ve been having a problem?” Draco nodded, ashamed. “Would you tell me about it?” Tears threatened again, but he nodded slowly.

“I can’t stop having accidents in my trousers,” he whispered.

“Do you just wait too long to use the lav?” she asked gently.

“No,” he shook his head. “I…I can’t h-hold it in.” He wanted a hole to open up and drag him in. It was bad enough that Harry knew. But this was a lady. A strange lady. And even though Harry seemed to trust her, Draco was taught never to tell anyone about his…problem.

“All right,” she nodded, gently chucking his cheek. “It’s okay, sweetie. We’ll just get you cleaned up and then we’ll have a look at you.”

Draco’s head shot up in horror. “L-look at me?” he squeaked. “Y-you’re going to l-look at me? A-at…it?”

Madam Pomfrey glanced at Harry. He waved her off and knelt in front of Draco. “Hey, poppet,” he smiled. “Madam Pomfrey wants to check to see if there’s anything that might be causing you not to be able to hold it in. She wants to make sure you’re not hurt somehow.”

Draco shook his head frantically, his blonde hair whipping around his face. “She can’t!” he breathed vehemently. “Father said no one could look! He’ll be so angry.” Draco was barely hanging on. Hysterics were just around the corner. Harry pulled him into an embrace, cuddling the scared child.

“Poppet,” he murmured as he slowly rocked Draco back and forth. “Your Father is…well, he’s a…bloody he-er…darn it, I mean. Draco, your dad isn’t here right now and you’re hurting. You have a problem that we might be able to fix. But you have to let us try to help. I’ll be here the whole time. I promise. And your father never needs to know. I swear. Okay? Please? Just let us try to help you?”

Harry felt the tears begin on his neck, but Draco nodded anyway. Harry pulled back enough to kiss him on the forehead and then began helping him with his clothes. He cast cleaning spells again on both Draco and his clothes and then helped the small boy up onto one of the hospital beds. Madam Pomfrey wisely stood back, letting Harry take care of all the small details, not wanting to frighten Draco any further.

When Harry had Draco sprawled over his lap, hands gently petting the shaking boy, she stepped forward. “Draco, sweetie,” she said soothingly. “I’m going to touch your back side now, just to get a better look. Is that all right?” Draco’s shudders increased and he began to make whimpering noises. Madam Pomfrey looked worriedly at Harry over the boy’s back. Harry returned her look, pain in his own features. “Would you rather Harry touch you, love, and I just look?” she offered instead.

“Yes,” came the muffled whimper.

“All right, love,” she agreed. “Now, Harry. I need you to hold his cheeks so that I can see. I’ll be doing some spells, but I don’t need to touch him for that. I just need to be able to see.” Harry nodded and squeezed his eyes shut briefly before reaching down to spread Draco’s cheeks for the nurse to examine. Small whuffling noises came from the spot Draco had his face buried, but he stopped trembling and quit trying to fight.

The nurse frowned upon first visual inspection and brought her wand up. Several spells later and she was white with fury. Her final spell caused a muffled squeak from Draco and he began squirming again. “It’s all right, love,” Pomfrey called up to him. “I didn’t touch you. That was just the magic. It was fixing your insides a bit so you won’t have this problem anymore.”

She nodded to Harry who released Draco and spun him around to wrap him in a bear hug. “You did so well, poppet,” he nuzzled the boy. “I’m so proud of you.”

“You did very well, sweetie,” Pomfrey agreed. “I have some chocolate in that drawer over there,” she pointed. “Top left side. Why don’t you pull your trousers back on and hop on over there to get some.”

Draco nodded, still not making eye contact, and slid off of Harry’s lap to pull his pants and trousers up. When he’d made his way through the maze of beds, and out of earshot, Pomfrey turned to Harry.

“I probably shouldn’t be sharing this with you,” she began in a low voice, “But for the purpose of this summer, you are his guardian.” She smiled slightly. “And I can see how much you care for him.” Harry nodded. “So, I will tell you what I’ve found.” Harry braced himself, knowing it wasn’t good. “Someone has been raping that child,” Pomfrey managed without a quaver.

“He had extensive damage. There was evidence of excessive tearing, of extreme muscle damage. That was his problem with the frequent accidents. He’s had…something…forced into his rectum; something far too large for the size of a toddler’s passage. His muscles were simply stretched too far to do their intended purpose. And it was done repeatedly. There are several scars that look to be older than others.” She paused, taking in Harry’s countenance. “Harry?” she asked worriedly.

Harry shook his head, forestalling her questions. He could barely manage to hold on to his anger at this point without being forced to acknowledge someone else. The anger slowly burned through his gut, making him feel nauseous. It radiated out to his extremities, forcing his hands into tight fists and his muscles to tense to the point of quivering. He viewed everything in a red haze, and couldn’t seem to focus on anything but the wall in front of him.

Madam Pomfrey jumped a bit as the cabinets began to rattle slightly, her wand on the medicine tray to jump and roll. She shot another look at Harry. He had his eyes closed. His lips were pressed tightly together, white and pinched. His cheeks had a flush of high color in them but the rest of his skin was pallid. “Harry?” she couldn’t not question again.

He opened his eyes and the shaking stopped. He slowly unclenched his fists and, one muscle at a time, loosened the taunt pull. “I’m all right,” he eventually managed to rasp out. “Have you repaired the damage?” he continued.

She nodded slowly. “Yes. And I cast a muscle-tightening spell. We use it for atrophied limbs, but I think it will work just as well in this instance.”

Harry grunted. “Good. Thank you, Madam Pomfrey.”

She frowned. “Harry, are you all right?”

He smiled thinly at her. “I’m fine. I’m back in control, now.” He turned to watch the small blonde as he finally found his chocolate and scampered back over to Harry’s side. “Poppet?” he asked as he knelt down next to Draco. “Can I ask you something?”

Draco nodded without hesitation.

“Draco, love, who hurt you there?” he gestured to Draco’s backside while never taking his eyes off of Draco’s expression. As such, he watched all the color drain from the boy’s face and a glazed expression take over his eyes. Draco’s hands began to shake and his head quickly followed.

“No one, Harry,” he answered in a monotone. “No one hurt me.”

“Draco. Poppet, you don’t have to cover for anyone,” Harry chastised him gently.

The chocolate fell from Draco’s hand. The boy slumped to the ground and wrapped his arms around his own legs, curling into a fetal position. He buried his face in his knees and began rocking slightly.

Harry bit his lip. “Draco,” he reached a hand out hesitantly, torn between needing to know and needing to comfort. As a tiny whimper escaped, comfort won out. He pulled the small boy into his arms and took over the rocking motion. “Draco, baby, it’s all right. You don’t have to say anything,” he whispered into his hair. “I’m sorry, love. I’m so, so sorry.”

Draco gradually unwrapped his arms from around his own legs and snuck them around Harry’s waist. Harry stood up, lifting Draco with him. He looked at Madam Pomfrey. “I’m taking him with me,” he stated. She didn’t disagree, just held the door open for them. On the way out, she brushed a tender hand over Draco’s bright head. She watched as Harry carried the abused boy out of sight and then she headed straight for the fireplace to floo Albus Dumbledore.

Harry made a beeline for the dungeons. He stopped by the common room long enough to order Greg and Vince to come with him, silently surprised when they made no noise about it…just exchanged looks and stood to follow. He then headed down a different corridor. One he had avoided for the last few days. Moments later found him pounding on the door to Severus Snape’s personal quarters.

The potions master opened his door, irritation evident in every line of his body. As soon as he spied a curled up Draco residing in Harry’s arms and the determined look on Harry’s face, however, he moved aside and ushered them all in. Harry set Draco down carefully. He bent to look him in the face. “Hey, poppet, why don’t you play in Uncle Severus’s room? I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if you practiced jumping on his bed.” He added a winning grin to the request and Draco was soon following with his own mischievous smile.

“Can I, Uncle Sev’rus?” he asked plaintively.

Snape frowned a tiny bit at Harry, but nodded reassuringly. “Of course, my boy. Be careful not to bounce completely off.”

“I won’t!” Draco called over his shoulder as he sailed into the back room. Harry pulled the other three males to the far corner of the room to talk without having Draco overhear them.

“What is this about, Mr. Potter?” Snape demanded in a low voice.

Harry couldn’t help it. His fists clenched up again and he grit his teeth together before forcing his next words out. “So. How many of you knew that Lucius Malfoy raped Draco on a regular basis?”

Jaws dropped. No one could say a word for long minutes. Then, “How did you discover this…bit of information?” Snape breathed.

Harry glared at him, rage flowing through him again. “Well, Snape, I’ll give you that answer just as soon as you tell me if you knew of this or not,” he hissed.

“No!” Snape jerked back physically. “Never! Had I known that bastard was…I would have…well, I would have done something long ago about it,” he finished clumsily. But the look on his face told all and sundry just what it was that he would have done.

Harry relaxed. “Good.” He looked to the other two. “And neither one of you knew?”

Two heads shook in unison. Vince looked about ready to cry. “How did you…” was all he could manage.

“Remember I told you that I was going to take Draco to Madam Pomfrey’s if he couldn’t stop going in his trousers?” Nods from the two boys, a confused look from Snape. Harry sighed. “Well, anyway, I did. And she examined him and found that he’d been raped…at this age…to the point where his rectal muscles didn’t work anymore. That’s why he kept messing himself. She found old scars and new scars, like he’d been molested quite a few times.”

He fixed a stony eye on each of them. “If Malfoy did that to him when he was five, what other things did he have to go through when got old enough to …participate?”

Greg winced. Snape closed his eyes briefly. Vince lunged for the waste can next to Snape’s desk and lost his breakfast. Greg moved closer and absently rubbed his back until Vince could stand once again. He then enveloped the smaller boy in a tight embrace. Snape merely raised an eyebrow at that. Harry wanted to smile at this first sign of affection that they’d let him see, but he was just too worked up about Draco.

“Oh, Merlin.” Snape covered his face with his long, bony hands. “I should have seen something,” he whispered. “I should have known. There were signs. I can see that now. I can see where I should have been noticing. But I didn’t.”

Harry reached a cautious hand out to the professor but pulled it back when Snape moved. “It’s not your fault, Professor,” he tried to offer comforting words. “Lucius Malfoy is a sneaky, underhanded bastard. You couldn’t have known. We know you would have done something if you could have. But, Professor, the past is the past. The fact that we get to help Draco out now in some way is what we should be concentrating on. We just have to make sure that he never touches Draco again. And we can,” he added confidently. “I know we can. We can do it together. I promise.”

Snape glanced up; his eyes shining with unshed tears, a smirk on his lips. “I suppose I can see why people follow you, boy,” he said wryly. “Very well. We will go on from here. Can I…” he hesitated, glancing back to the bedroom where Draco was happily squealing as he bounced. “Can I watch him for a while?”

Harry smiled. “I’m sure Draco would love that. Just bring him to the room after dinner.”

Snape nodded and headed back to let Draco know that the other boys were leaving. Draco waved goodbye to them and the last they saw, he was leaping from the bed into outstretched, black covered arms.

When the door shut behind them, Vince turned to look at Harry. “You made Snape feel loads better,” he offered. Harry gave a pinched smile.

Greg smirked. “You don’t believe one word of that drivel you just spouted back there, do you?”

The smile, sad as it was, disappeared and Harry snarled. “Not one fucking bit. I’m going to rip that man’s cock off and choke him with it.”

Greg clasped an arm around Harry and tugged him off down the hallway. “You’d have made a good Slytherin.”

________________________________________________________________

July 15:

All good things must end. Or so they say. Harry wasn’t sure whom ‘they’ were, but he was pretty sure that they knew what they were talking about. For nearly two weeks, everything had been as near to perfect as it could be given the circumstances. Then Harry woke up one morning to find the reign of good at an end. For starters, the weather was horrid. The rain came down in torrents. The wind whistled through the cracks in the dungeon walls until it sounded like a horde of ban sidhes was right outside.

When he’d grabbed his and Draco’s clothes and scurried them as quickly as possible across the cold floor, he found that the warm water spell had worn off and for some reason couldn’t be reactivated. A quick cleaning spell for them both later and they were headed down to the Great Hall for breakfast only to find more problems.

Winky had been into the butterbeer again. Apparently the storm had brought back several sad memories for her and she attempted to drown her sorrows. Unfortunately, she then tried to light the kitchen on fire. Dobby repeatedly assured everyone that it was an honest mistake. She truly didn’t know that an oil fire would spread like that when one tossed water at it. But by the time the fire was out, the kitchen was a disaster. Breakfast was in the form of cold fruits and cereal.

Determined to have a better morning, Harry cajoled Greg and Vince into exploring the castle with him and Draco. Greg actually used the excuse of needing to do his homework to get out of it. He caved after Harry stared at him as though he were a particularly interesting zoo specimen and tried to take his temperature. So, the three Slytherins and one Gryffindor began their trek through the long hallways of the unexplored north wing.

After three hours, Harry was pretty sure that the only thing exciting in this wing was the sheer number of dust bunnies. They’d taken to carrying Draco in turns, as the hallways just seemed to go on and on. Vince was beginning to whine about being thirsty and Greg was muttering something about preferring McGonagall. Harry sighed and rubbed his feet as they paused in yet another break.

Draco began rooting through cupboards and shelves in what looked to be a huge closet, sneezing every now and then from the dust. Harry was just on his way to thinking this was probably not one of the greatest ideas he’d had when his inner diatribe was interrupted by Draco’s terrified shrieks. Harry was off of the floor and racing for the small boy in less than a second. He twisted abruptly to avoid crashing into Vince who was coming from the next room and Greg who’d shoved himself off of the ground as well.

Harry skidded to a halt in the doorway, his first sight freezing him in place. Lucius Malfoy stood, naked as the day he was born, directly in front of Draco. His face was drawn up in a parody of affection even as he caressed his leaking cock and advanced on Draco.

“Well, hello my son,” Lucius purred. “I’ve missed our playtime. Daddy’s cock has been so very cold and lonely without your tight, hot little arse. Strip down, boy. Don’t make me wait any longer. You know I’ll have to make it hurt more if you make me wait.” Draco shook like a leaf in the wind. His small teeth were clacking together and Harry could see a wet puddle being formed out from the bottom of his trouser legs.

Harry shook his head, forcing rational thought back into place. Lucius Malfoy could not be here. He simply couldn’t. And certainly not like that. He pulled his wand and stepped forward. “Riddikulus!” he shouted. Lucius’ form wavered as his attention focused on Harry. He slowly bled into a dark form, cloaked in heavy, tattered robes. Harry vaguely heard the screaming begin, but he didn’t wait. “Expecto Patronum!”

A silvery stag darted across the room, head lowered and antlers at the ready. It slammed into the dementor and distracted it. “Riddikulus!” Harry shouted again. The dementor wavered slightly. “Riddikulus!” he shouted a third time and the dementor disappeared. The stag bowed its head slightly and disappeared and Harry bolted to Draco’s side.

“Draco?” he flung his arms around the small boy. “Poppet, it’s okay. It was just a boggart. It was a monster, and kind of scary, I admit, but it’s gone now. It’s all right now,” he couldn’t stop babbling. And even under all the babbling, he noticed that Draco wasn’t responding. He spun the boy around, searching his face for some sign. There was nothing. It was like looking into a blank slate; into a dead person’s eyes. And that analogy frightened him more than he could lay words to.

He tugged Draco up into his arms and forcibly wrapped the boy’s arms around his neck. A glance at Greg and Vince seeing that they were worried as well, and Harry raced back to civilization. He went straight for Dumbledore. Madam Pomfrey was amazing at physical wounds, but Harry was certain that something had broken in Draco up in that north wing closet and he didn’t think she could fix it.

He stutteringly babbled every bloody candy he could think of, looking grateful when the two Slytherins picked up on the theme and took over while he just clung to Draco. Suddenly, the gargoyle moved. He hadn’t been listening to the string of passwords out of the boys’ mouths and hoped that he wouldn’t need it again any time soon. Ignoring the slow motion of the statue, he raced up the steps and burst out into the headmaster’s office.

Dumbledore looked up, surprise on his face. “Well, Harry, boys…to what do I owe this visit?”

Harry fought back tears. “It was a boggart, sir,” he choked out. “It turned into his father…it tried to…to…”

“It was going to rape him again,” Greg supplied, placing a supporting hand on Harry’s back. “Harry got rid of it, but Draco’s been pretty catatonic since then. Can you do something?”

“Oh, dear,” Dumbledore stood and moved around his desk, coming to stop at the small boy’s side. “Draco? My boy, can you hear me?” he tried. Draco just lay shaking in Harry’s arms, staring off past Dumbledore’s gaze. Dumbledore sighed and shook his head sadly. “I must ask that you never mention this, gentlemen,” he admonished quietly as he pulled his wand out. “Obliviate!” Draco jerked for a moment and then blinked rapidly.

“Harry?” he frowned. “How’d we get here?”

Harry just clutched the boy tightly and buried his face in Draco’s chest. Vince rubbed Draco’s hair and grinned at him. “You fell asleep, party-pooper. We found a secret passage that led out of the wing.”

“Oh,” Draco looked disappointed at having missed the excitement of a hidden passage. He glanced down suddenly. “Why are my pants wet?”

Once again, Vince came to the rescue. “You spilled your pumpkin juice. Why don’t you come with me and I’ll help you shower and change. We can meet up with Greg and Harry back in the common room.”

Draco nodded happily and leaned down to kiss Harry on the cheek. “I’ll see you in a while, Harry,” he chirped before squirming down and taking Vince’s hand. As Vince led him back out the door they could hear his piping voice, “Vince, I didn’t think we had any pumpkin juice?”

Greg led Harry down to the common room; a little worried that Harry was reacting nearly as badly as Draco had. He pushed the Gryffindor into an armchair and moved to root through his personal stash of chocolate. He came up with a handful of chocolate frogs and tossed several into Harry’s lap. The dark haired boy just stared up at him, confused. “For the dementor,” Greg indicated the chocolate with his chin. Harry seemed to snap out of it and began to open the chocolate.

They sat in silence, Harry slowly chewing the candy and Greg surreptitiously watching Harry out of the corner of his eye.

“Greg?” The Slytherin nearly jumped.

“Yeah?”

“Do you think I’m sick for loving Draco?” came a small voice, one Greg had never heard out of Harry’s mouth.

“No,” he frowned.

“Even though he’s five?”

Greg sighed. He wasn’t the smartest of men, but he could put two and two together. “Harry, unlike Lucius Malfoy, you seem to be able to love without the accompaniment of your cock,” he said sarcastically. “You fell in love with a 17 year old. Yeah, maybe you wanted to shag that 17 year old Draco, but when he turned five, you…well, bloody hell, Potter,” Greg sighed. “I can see how much you still love him, even as a boy. But I can also see that you love him differently. That you only want to protect him and shelter him. Everyone can see that.”

He leaned in, catching Harry’s eye. “No one thinks you’re Lucius Malfoy, Harry,” he said softly. “If they did, Draco wouldn’t be in your care. They trust you. I trust you. He’s my best friend and I can’t think of anyone I’d rather have taking care of him than you. All right, mate?”

Harry smiled, snuffling a bit, and nodded. “Thanks, Greg.

__________________________________________________________

July 17:

The bad luck seemed determined to stay with them. Granted, it eased off a bit, but refused to go away entirely. Two days after the ‘boggart situation’, an owl flew into the dungeon bearing a single roll of parchment. The bird dropped the parchment on Vince’s head and flew back out the window. He picked the scroll up and eyed the seal. He blanched and let it fall back into his lap.

Greg frowned and reached over to pluck the parchment up. He paled a bit as well when he saw the seal. “What is it?” Harry couldn’t help but ask.

“It’s from the Ministry of Magic,” Vince said softly.

Greg broke the seal and read the contents through quickly. He closed his eyes briefly and rolled the parchment back up. He looked up at Vince. “They’ve disowned us, Vince,” he stated calmly. “The ministry has opened up accounts for us with 1000 galleons each.”

Vince moaned low in his throat. Harry frowned. “What does one have to do with the other?” he asked, confused.

Greg sighed. “Sometimes I forget you were raised by muggles. When a minor is disowned, the Ministry provides them with a small amount of money to start a new life with. It’s never much, but it’s more than we would have gotten had our parents done it after we turned 17.”

Harry frowned. “Neither one of you are 17 yet?”

Greg shook his head. “We were born in August. Me on the 4^th and Vince on the 10^th.

“Oh,” was all Harry could come up with. He watched as Greg moved over to comfort Vince. The taller boy hugged Vince to his chest, gently petting his hair and dropping small kisses on the crown of his head. The calmer Vince got, the guiltier Harry felt. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

Vince peeked over at him. “It’s okay,” he sniffed with a smile. “We pretty much knew that was what was going to happen when we didn’t go home.”

“I feel responsible,” Harry protested.

Greg shrugged. “You shouldn’t. You opened our eyes, but we made the choice. It’s not your fault. Really, it’s not our fault either. Our parents can hold the responsibility for this one, I think.”

Harry nodded sadly. “I…I…” he stumbled to a halt.

“You what, Harry?” Vince sniffed again, settling down into a more comfortable position against Greg’s chest.

Harry flushed. “I don’t want you to think this is charity, all right?” he warned. At their wary looks he rushed on. “I’ve got quite a bit of money, both from my parents and from S-Sirius’s estates,” he couldn’t help but stutter over that name, even after all this time. “I’ve also got a manor from Sirius and Godric’s Hollow that I’m planning on fixing up when I get a chance.”

He knew he was babbling, but he couldn’t stop or he’d lose his courage. “When we’re finished with school, I’d like to offer you both a place to stay…with me, I mean. We could room together until you decided what you wanted to do. I’d pick up the costs of living, no problem, and we could…er, well…um…” he lost momentum at the shocked looks on their faces.

“What the hell?” Greg breathed.

Harry began to fidget. “Please, don’t think I’m offering charity. It’s not. I-its just that I have this huge house and no one to live in it. And what the hell am I going to do with all that money anyway?” he tried a weak smile. “I thought about giving it to worthy causes or maybe making scholarships with it. Or…or something. But I’d much rather spend it on my friends. Please?” he finished with a quiet plea.

“Harry, do you realize what you’re offering?” Vince asked, a bit flummoxed. “You’re inviting two Death Eater’s sons into your home. You’re offering to let us stay for free, no obligations. What about your other friends? What about the public? What about what You-Know-Who will do when he finds out that you’re harboring us?”

Harry nearly growled. “I know exactly what I’m offering, dammit! You’re disowned. You’re hardly Death Eater’s sons any longer, are you? And my friends will understand. As for the rest of the wizarding world, they can bite my arse for all I care. And Voldemort has plenty of other things to hate me for. Why would he waste time on trying to kill me for my choice in roommates?”

He took a deep breath and exhaled. “I’m planning on asking Draco as well if he decides not to take the mark,” he added.

Greg’s jaw dropped. “Are you trying for a Slytherin half-way house?” he joked, then looked worried when Harry pondered that.

“You know,” he said absently, “I could. If they knew that they had somewhere safe to go, more Slytherins might be willing to say no to their parents. Do you think?” He was startled out of his reverie by a snicker.

“You’re a real piece of work, aren’t you Potter?” Greg grinned.

Harry flushed. “I’m not. I’m just trying to do right by my friends.”

Greg eyed him, a strange expression on his face. “Is that what we are, Potter? Your friends?”

“Of course. I don’t hang around with people I hate, you know,” he smiled shyly.

“Are you sure that you aren’t just looking for a way to endear yourself to Draco?” Greg asked harshly.

Harry rocked back as if Greg had slapped him. “I…you…”

“ I mean, if you’re nice to us, maybe Draco will take that into account when you finally tell him how you feel.” Harry just gaped, not believing he was hearing this. Not after everything they’d been through already this summer. He couldn’t think of another thing to say that wasn’t hurtful or spiteful or that showed how badly Greg’s words had hurt him. So he did the only thing he could do. He ran.

He ran out of the common room, out of the dungeon. He ran out of the castle altogether and headed straight for the Quidditch pitch. When he got there, he flung himself to the ground at the base of a goalpost and hugged his knees to his chest. “Where does he get off saying something like that?” he choked out, trying to hold onto his rage so that he wouldn’t sink into tears.

“After everything that’s happened? Don’t they trust me yet?” He turned his head so his cheek was resting on his knee and he stared out at the gathering storm clouds on the horizon. “Why don’t they trust me?” he nearly whimpered.

And then the inevitable happened. He tried to see it from their point of view…and he understood.

“What have they got to be trusting about, really?” he murmured. The school, the whole wizarding world was sure the boys were in league with their fathers in worshipping Voldemort. Their only form of backbone was just turned into a five-year-old. The first time they stood up for themselves, they were disowned. They knew they were not the brightest of the Slytherins. Harry could only imagine them wondering why someone who didn’t have a use for them would want to be their friend? And really, Harry didn’t even start talking to them until the whole ‘Draco incident.’

They weren’t offered many breaks being Slytherins. Harry supposed that it had to seem quite odd that someone who ‘hated’ them for six years would suddenly want to be friends; would want them to live with him after the end of school, would want to take care of them. At least a someone who didn’t want anything in return. Something like trying to get on Draco’s good side?

“Damn it!” Harry sighed, closing his eyes against the coming storm. “Is that really why I’m doing this? Am I really just trying to hedge my chances with Draco when he comes back? For that matter,” he snorted humorlessly, “Am I just taking care of Draco now so that he feels compelled to give me a chance later?” He moaned quietly. He didn’t want to think he’d do something like that, but maybe…

He turned his thoughts inward again.

Just because Harry knew some of the reasons why Draco reacted the way he did as a teenager didn’t mean he understood them all. For all he knew there were some hang-ups he had from much later in life. Hang-ups that Harry couldn’t even begin to comprehend. What if Draco wasn’t the way he was because of mental, emotional and physical abuse? What if he just honestly hated Harry?

What if there was no ‘cure’ for Draco’s attitude towards him? What if he continued to hate him? If that happened, if Harry found out that those were Draco’s true feelings, how would that affect his relationship with Greg and Vince?

No.

No, Harry refused to believe that was how it would come to be. He still wanted to be friends. He had started chipping away at a space in his heart for the two lummoxes nearly a month ago and he was pretty damn sure that he’d created a couple of Slytherin sized holes there that he refused to let go empty.

He wanted to share them. He wanted to introduce Ron to the real Greg. He wanted to be there the first time Ron lost at chess. He wanted to see the shock, then the grin spread over Ron’s face as he asked…no, demanded another game.

He wanted to have Dean and Vince get together. He wanted to see what they could draw together. He wanted to watch them holed up in a corner somewhere, heads bent over their art pads, looking up occasionally at their model and then over at each other’s work.

He wanted to show Mione that someone else had the uncanny ability to look in Harry’s head and tell him what he really meant. He wanted to see Greg and her smirking over his ridiculous notions.

He wanted to watch Vince as he used his strangely subtle misdirection to break up an argument between Seamus and…well, practically anybody. Seamus wasn’t picky about who he got into a shouting match with. He wanted to see the look on everyone’s face when they realized that it was the big lumbering Slytherin who so delicately wove the strands of conversation around that they didn’t even know they were being manipulated.

He didn’t want to be left out in the cold again with them. He wanted to be trusted. Trusted enough to keep their secrets as well as his own. He didn’t think he could stand not witnessing their tiny smiles and tender touches that were the only open sign of affection they would share.

He wanted to be friends. Real friends. How bizarre was that?

And Draco. Dear, sweet, beloved Draco. What of him?

Harry had loved the teenager so long that loving the child came naturally to him. He admitted that he greedily took the affection that this younger Draco offered him, even knowing that the older Draco would do no such thing. But he didn’t love or care for the child to get in good with the older boy. Harry loved him on his own merits. He could say that for certain, now.

He loved the boy’s sweetness, his innocent purity. He loved Draco’s bravery in the face of all that had happened to him. But mostly, he loved little Draco’s willingness to let Harry love him. And to love Harry back. Very few people would have let Harry swaddle then in the affection and protection that Harry bestowed on Draco. Draco did, and loved him all the more for it.

Would he treat young Draco any differently if he could be assured that the boy would or would not remember what happened this summer? No. Not at all. He knew he had a battle waiting for him when Draco returned to his proper age. He was rather looking forward to it. And he knew there was no way that he would toss the ammunition of this summer in Draco’s face when they went at it. Draco would love him on his own merit or not at all. And even though Harry was pretty certain that ‘not at all’ was his fate, he wouldn’t love little Draco any less.

He sat up, having convinced his own mind that his actions were pure as was his love for Draco and his new friends. As he did so, he realized that there were spots on his glasses. Glancing up, he saw that the storm had moved in more quickly than he’d first thought. It was already directly overhead and soaking him with cold rain. He shoved off the ground and began moving back toward the castle.

As he passed the broom shed near the pitch, he heard a pitiful mew. He hesitated, craning his senses to see if he could recognize where the sound came from. “Mew,” he heard again. He followed the noise to the corner of the shed and to a small hole underneath. He knelt, peering into the hole, reminded of doing this very same thing nearly a month ago as he was looking for Draco.

This time, he saw a pair of glowing eyes. “Mew?” It came again.

“Hello in there?” Harry called softly. “Are you all right?”

“Mew!” They eyes grew closer as a tiny black body began to crawl out of the hole. Harry watched as the small creature perched on its hind legs, rain beginning to matt it’s black fur. Fur that Harry could now see was two-toned spotted dark grey. Huge, furry ears twitched and a tail reminiscent of a small lion flicked back and forth. “Mew,” it stated.

“You’re a kneazle!” Harry cried out in surprise. “How’d you get here?”

“Mew?” it cried plaintively.

“You’re getting wet and cold, aren’t you, love?” Harry crooned. “Would you like to come back to the castle with me? I have a friend that would just love to meet you.” The kneazle stood up on all four legs and gave a tiny sneeze.

“Mew.”

Harry grinned. “I’ll take that as a yes.” He scooped the tiny creature up, taking an apologetic glance between its legs to determine its gender. A disgruntled ‘mew’ and a quick apology later, however, and Miss Kneazle was delightedly curled up in Harry’s robe pocket.

He gathered his courage before speaking the password and then burst through the door ready to defend himself with his new knowledge. The first thing he saw was that Draco was back from his visit with Snape. Okay, so the foul language part of his speech would have to go. He gave a swift smile to the boy and then turned on the other two who were lying on the couch.

“Okay,” he glared. “I’ve been doing some thinking about what you said. I took a long walk trying to figure out if you were right. If I really was just being nice to you all to…get what I wanted. And I’ve come to a conclusion.”

“Harry,” Greg tried.

“No! Listen to me. I’ve been as hateful to you two as you two have been to me these last few years. I’m not proud of that and I want it to stop right now. As implausible as you may think it is, I like you. I like you a lot. I want to get to know you better and I want for us to be friends. I know that I don’t measure up to your ideal of a friend. I’m a Gryffindor, I’m kind of fruity, and I’m Harry Potter. I know I can never measure up to what you two and Draco have. I know that. But I want you to give me a chance. I can be a good friend. I know I can. And I didn’t offer to help you out because of pity or…well, you know. I asked because I’d do anything for my friends. And I consider both of you my friends. I just want a chance for you to feel the same way about me.”

“Harry!” Greg tried again.

“What?”

“We know,” he said softly, sharing a warm glance with Vince. “We’re sorry. We got a bit confused. But, we’re better now. Draco is the only person who has ever wanted to just be with us. In a way, we have our own Boy Who Lived stigma. And like you, we tend to freak out first when we think someone might be playing into that, and think later…generally after it’s too late to fix anything. But we talked and realized something.”

Vince nodded. “We realized you don’t play. As bizarre as it might seem to us, you are who you are. No games. You are who we see and all the searching beneath the surface is only going to show us what we already know. That we trust you. That we believe you. And in you. And that we’d like to be friends with that person if your offer still stands.”

Harry grinned. “Of course it does.”

“Mew!”

Draco gasped, finally understanding something in the serious adult conversation. “Harry! What do you have in your pocket?”

Harry reached in and pulled out the mussed kneazle with an embarrassed smile. “I found her by the broom shed,” he explained hastily to the two smirking Slytherins. “She’s cold and scared and alone. I thought maybe…well, she’d make a good pet for Draco,” he finished a bit defensively.

Greg sighed, still smiling. “You just won’t be happy until you’ve saved everyone, will you Harry?”

Harry just grinned and knelt to show the kneazle to Draco. “You want to give her a bath, love?”

Draco nodded slowly, eyes wide as he took in the tiny perfection of the small creature. The little kneazle tilted its head up to meet Draco’s eyes. Silvery gray met sapphire blue and there was a moment of silence in which the silence was palpable. Then, Draco smiled and held his hands out and the kneazle climbed out of Harry’s hands and into Draco’s without any suggestion at all.

Harry followed Draco into the bath and ran a couple of inches of warm water in the bottom of the tub. Draco leaned over the tub and carefully bathed the little creature. He diligently scrubbed every bit of her fur, including her tufted ears and swishing tail. Harry eventually leaned back and let the boy work. He was doing a much better job than Harry had imagined he could.

Finally, lovingly dried and brushed with Harry’s own comb, Draco carried the kneazle out to the dorm and set her gently on his bed. Harry lay on his side, head propped up on his hand, watching as Draco sat cross-legged at the head of the bed, tickling the kneazle’s furry tummy. Vince and Greg curled up together on Greg’s bed and marveled at the changes wrought from the small, terrified boy they’d known to this happy, loving child in front of them.

“Whatcha gonna name him, Draco?” Vince called out quietly.

Draco grinned up at his friend. “Her name’s Poppet.”

“Um…you sure you want to name her that?” Greg asked with a smirk.

A frown briefly crossed Draco’s face. “Yes. Why?”

Greg shrugged. “Well, it’ll sound a bit more strange when you’re 17 calling for your Poppet than it does now.”

Draco hmphed loftily and went back to scratching his Poppet’s tummy. “Harry loves me and calls me poppet. I love her and Harry found her for me so I’m going to call her Poppet.”

The three older boys exchanged grins. “Poppet it is then, love,” Harry replied.