Harry Potter 1. Memories of a Father

**Disclaimer: **I do not own any of the Harry Potter characters.

**A/N: **I am mentioning this one time and one time only: this is an AU, non-cannon 'Snape mentors Draco' fanfiction piece –it is important to mention that there is no use of magic. **My story, my rules**.

**Warnings: **Reference to previous self-inflicted harm.

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"_**Father, father, tell me where are you now?  
It's been hell not having you  
Last thing I heard, you were fed up, you're skipping town  
With no note telling where  
When I go to sleep at night, you're not there  
When I go to sleep at night, do you care?"**_

**-Sleeping With Sirens_A Trophy Father's Trophy Son**

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**Chapter 1**: Memories of A Father

I sat cross-legged on the polished wooden floor of my bedroom, with my back slumped tiredly against an emerald green wall, contemplating the reality of my existence. Again. As it stands, it does not seem like my life is going to amount to much... "So why even bother?" I find myself whispering under raggedy breath, while fidgeting with my hands in my lap.

I've had the same morose thoughts running rampantly around my head for a few weeks now –bouncing off the walls of my skull and hitting me with a sharp sense of pain every time one of them comes into focus. _And you know what?_

I'm starting to get sick of it.

The only thing that draws me out of my darkened self-pity is the incessant knocking of small knuckles on my hardwood door, and the shrill call of my name when I don't make any movement to open the thing.

I wasn't really supposed to have the key to my bedroom door -_it had already been forcibly taken away from me an awfully long time ago because of more insalubrious reasons. _Except, having the old-fashioned thing clutched in my hands most nights, and possessing control over who I allowed into my personal space, gave me a sort of odd comfort that most of the time I felt I never had –like that of a small, broken child who wouldn't relinquish their hold on a favoured, ancient teddy bear for worry of feeling alone again.

"Draco, I demand that you unlock this door immediately! So help me, if I have to tear-"

The sharp voice, indeed, belonged to my dear mother. If luck would have it –and it was hardly ever on my side, she was probably standing outside my room for the reason as to why I had been 'out' until one o' clock this morning –at least two and a half hours past my curfew. And while this normally wouldn't have passed her less than sensitive radar and caused any extreme alarm, I realise her most recent of lovers must have told her that I snuck out again.

I hate him.

Begrudgingly peering up at the small antique clock hanging on the opposite wall from where I was seated on the floor, I watched as the small, black hand made its way just past the four-thirty mark. Deciding that it would be better to get up and just face what she wanted to say to me, I quickly unlocked the door –opening it to only lean my exhausted frame against the wall again.

A small pale hand reaches out into my view, the aged fingers waiting. I stare at her unblinkingly, waiting for the inevitable screaming, as I pulled a key out of my front jeans pocket and placed it into her grasp. When nothing escapes her mouth and she just looks at me for a few moments, I internally sigh and turn my head away from her penetrating gaze, failing to notice the slightly worried lines that are dancing on her forehead. I pretend to listen, nodding my head absently in, what I presume, is the right places, but the truth is I am miles away from her –away from this awful place and its memories... At least in this single moment I have some dismal form of peace.

After a while there is a pause –the pained silence finally reaching my ears, and I look up to meet my mother's eyes again. She is now wearing a slightly disdainful expression that seems to be pulling at her soft eyes –right into her nervously receding hairline.

I know that look.

My mother is obviously expecting me to answer some ridiculous question that I haven't heard -that I hadn't bothered to listen to. I hastily nod my head, hoping it's the right one. She looks taken aback, a gleam of uncertainty in her eyes, as though she hadn't expected me to just simply agree with whatever she's just told me. A minute of aching silence passes by and nothing more is said between the two of us so I assume the conversation is over and done with, and shut the door rudely in her face –my stomach twisting in longing for the normal 'click' of the lock.

When I don't hear the screeching of my name again, I stop holding my breath and return to my desk near my messy bed, observing for, most likely, the fiftieth time this day that it is littered with brown ceramic cups and old newspaper clippings.

The headline on one of papers is dated a few months back, reading: "Boy tries to commit suicide by jumping off school building". I put it down gently on an attempted neat pile that I had been trying to form through the weeks, and grabbed a more recent page that hadn't, fortunately, been graced by the presence of one of my long, drawn-out coffee binges.

Written to one of the local newspapers by a series of angry readers is a splurge of letters, wondering if this said person should be allowed back into the school –concerned that he might cause another scene again. It isn't good for the small town's image they say. It's not right.

I grimace, turning my small-framed body in the grey swivel chair to face the windows on the other side of the room. They're the only pair in the house that isn't burglar-guarded. When my father was still around it was said that he joked that anyone would have to be either absolutely insane or had a death wish, to try and break into a room that's two stories off the ground with nowhere safe to land if they fell. I was six then, but I still remember him like it was just a few months back.

Unfortunately, my father hadn't foreseen the fact that since I was eleven years old I had tried to kill myself at least eight times by falling out of those very same Victorian-styled windows. Most of the time I was caught just as I was about to do it –_not being able to lock myself in or anything_...

But last year –last year I managed to break an arm and a leg. My mother wouldn't even look at me for a month, let alone speak more than a few words directly to me. I had to stay with my godfather, Severus.

He was the only one who would listen to me when I said I did not want to see a psychiatrist. He had managed to convince my mother that perhaps an extended change of scenery might be more beneficial than the likes of a cold, empty room in an institution. Never mind being committed, the whole idea of someone else I didn't know invading my privacy literally made my skin crawl with fear. However, taking me away to reside with him didn't make my stay with Severus any easier. If anything, there were quite a few moments where I considered that maybe seeing a 'head doctor' would have been a better idea.

Pain suddenly shoots through my stringy arm, breaking through my confused thoughts and I realize I have it pressed up against a shard of broken glass –a trickle of blood has already been soaked up by some three day old paper. I pull the piece out and stare at it for a moment before chucking it aside. It lands somewhere in the paper pile.

'_It's just another witness to an old fight with your demons'_ my mind remarks.

I bite my lip nervously, appreciating the fact that I'm used to the sting of self-inflicted wounds. This was just going to be another scar to hide when I went back to school –_if I went back to school_. I despised that disgusting place. Eventually, I snap out of the reverie, and carefully pick through the mess on my desk with the tips of my fingers, finding the broken photo frame I had smashed with my fist just last night. Most of the glass has broken off, except for one large, thin piece that held the picture to its home. It was crumpled and damaged in a few corners, but you could still make out the people in it.

It's an old photograph of my small family taken years ago outside, in the front yard of our simple house under a dying willow tree. My mother's cold unfeeling face stares up at me –her hair was still dark then, framing it well. But what I'm more focused on is the little blonde-headed boy to the right of the portrait, holding on to his equally blonde-headed father's leg in surprise. His tiny hands are clenched around the fabric of the dark trousers, as if to keep a desperate hold on something that was about to lift up in the wind and, like the blossoms in Autumn, fly away to the end reaches of the sky.

We looked, at least, content... Perhaps 'happy' would have been too strong a word –even then.

But that was almost an eternity ago, a few short months before my father left us _-before he had abandoned me. _My mother had informed me of the fact a long while later when, _apparently_, my wails and cries for him had become too much for her to constantly, and on a daily basis, bear.

Finding a forgotten shirt on the arm of the chair, I tore a piece of the sleeve and wrapped it around the cut, tying it at the crook of my arm with my teeth –and just in time to look up at my computer screen and see that I had received a message from Blaise. He's asking me to meet up with him later. I reply with a short '_okay'_ and log off the instant messaging site.

Half staring at the clock above my bed again, I can see it's nearing five. Resolving that it would be best if took a shower and appeared to be at least half-way decent, I pull myself up off the floor. Blaise would never forgive me if I rocked up with dirty sneakers, pants from last week sometime and a buttoned shirt I had probably worn since the day the holiday had begun. I don't really remember... Regardless, in front of his girlfriend, no matter how badly she was dressed, I had to be presentable.

Stepping into the on-suite bathroom of my room, I turn on the cold, silver tap of the shower and then proceed to take my clothes off as quickly as possible and pull off the makeshift bandage.

Under the spout of freezing water, I hoped that it would undoubtedly wake my body up... When that actually seemed to work and I started to shake, I played around with the hot tap in an attempt to get the water to reach a more comfortable temperature, letting the harsh spray wash away the sticky blood that had just about dried on my arm.

In the partially steamed mirror of the bathroom wall I could make out a pained expression of sixteen year old boy that looked remotely like death. Needless to say, my eyes wore adorned with dark shadows of countless nights without sleep; my lips bore bruises of a telling kind, and comparing my general appearance to the pallor of snow-white paper would have been an insult. I look away, disgusted.

Fifteen minutes of non-stop scrubbing and scouring has caused my skin to turn a bright, stinging pink... but I ignore this in favour of pulling on a pair of black jeans, a long-sleeved navy blue shirt, and a new pair of sneakers my mother's most recent lover had bought me last week as a stupid bribe to behave.

Once dressed, I pull instinctively down at the sleeves of my shirt, hoping they'll stay in place and do their purpose of hiding the many pale, purple scars covering my arms. This wasn't exactly a new habit that I had adopted, but I had already hidden it for long enough that nobody knew about it –_at least not yet- _and I was determined to keep it that way, for as long as possible.

There's no need to give anyone anymore ammunition to humiliate and berate me with.

Walking across my room, I opened a closet door to stare in the floor-length mirror.

I don't look too bad.

Still somehow... pathetic.

But hey, at least I have clean hair.

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**A/N: **Well... That's the first chapter. Do you like it? Do you have ideas? Do you have theories about where this story might be going? Tell me in a nice, long, awesome **review**! I don't mind what you have to say as long as it's constructive. Next chapter will probably be up within the week, or the month. I'm in my final year of high school –please forgive me if I don't update as fast as you would like.


	2. Sneaking Out Again

**Disclaimer: **I do not own any of the Harry Potter characters.

**A/N: **Received first-hand information from my mother about the breaking of a nose –unfortunately she broke her own when she was just nine years old. I'm so sorry mother.

**Warnings: **Mild altercation between characters.

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"_**I'm scared to get close and I hate being alone.  
I long for that feeling to not feel at all.  
The higher I get, the lower I'll sink.  
I can't drown my demons, they know how to swim."**_

**-Bring Me The Horizon_Can You Feel My Heart**

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**Chapter 2**: Sneaking Out Again

Standing carelessly in the small dirt road just outside the entrance to the driveway, I watched for a few precious moments as the sun burst across the horizon –illuminating the sky with crimson rays for a fraction of a second, before the dirty grey clouds of the night threatened to suffocate the full moon in the ever rapidly darkening sky.

I glanced over my shoulder at the small house one last time, regretting that I hadn't brought a jacket when the wind whips around my body in cold, trembling surprise, but still, I am slightly warmed at the fact that I had managed to slip out again –_if only a little_.

Taking the stroke of luck for what it is, I start to walk in the direction of Blaise's house, not wanting to hang around when my mother finally finds out I'm gone, yet again. Blaise doesn't live too far away, perhaps a quarter of an hour drive if you travel by car. However as I'm walking, after twenty minutes I sigh in irritation by the fact that I've walked at least a mile and I still haven't reached his address. By the time his conventional, white picket fenced front gate comes into view, I'm exhausted.

Instead of knocking on Blaise's glossy teal door, I sink tiredly down to the steps of his porch and hold my throbbing head in between my knees, gasping for even breath. Eventually the bright terrace light switches on, and I'm greeted in shock with a heavy-handed slap on the back that I think Blaise believes is just a pat among friends. I choke, standing up a quickly and almost falling backwards down the stairs to meet Blaise's dark brown eyes.

He offers me a practiced lopsided grin, and playfully pushes my shoulder with a balled fist while clearly eyeing my wet hair. "Hey Draco… It actually looks like you took a bath." He tries to stifle the laughter behind a cupped hand. It was a joke, but he knows he's lucky I even bothered to come to see him at all.

The expression on his face softens in seriousness as he tries to splutter out the next few words without blushing awkwardly, "It's been a while. How are you doing –_seriously_, since…" Blaise drifts off, not wanting to actually voice out loud what had happened just a few short weeks ago.

Shirking my weight nervously from one leg to the other, I don't look him in the eyes, but rather direct my gaze to a spot just above his sculpted eyebrows, "Really Blaise? Do we honestly have time for all this chitchat?" I blow him off hurriedly, side-stepping the uncomfortable question, "I thought you had a new girlfriend you wanted to show off. What was her name again, or is she just a rumour making the rounds, floating among the students at school?"

I don't wait for the reply but promptly pushed past his bulky form into the passage way, making a swaggered bee-line for the kitchen _–I knew the layout of Blaise's house like the back of my hand_. I was therefore surprised to find that I wasn't the only person that he had invited, besides, of course, hisbeloved 'other half'.

Situated in front of an open, double-doored metallic fridge, was a girl. No scratch that, _a lady_, I had only ever seen, and guiltily admired, from a varied distance. She graced the school halls with her long-legged presence –and sometimes, my fantasies.

I didn't even know her name.

When I accidently knock an old umbrella stand down, she realises that she isn't alone and in an unexpected flurry of confusion she hastily shuts the fridges doors, to glance up at me. Pulling a couple of loose golden hair strands behind her soft pixie-like ears, she turns around to face me, and whispers a small 'hello'.

"Hi." I blink; mentally kicking myself for being incredibly socially inept in situations like these. I was, shamefully, not used to being alone with a girl and for that reason have no idea what to say to the beautiful lady standing so charmingly in front of me in a knee-length cerulean dress. I haven't even moved from my position in the entrance of the cosy kitchen.

She clears her throat, taking a small, calculated step forwards, and after four years of high school, she finally offers me a name. Her chocolate-coffee eyes sparkle as she lets the favoured words leave her supple lips, "My name is Rose."

My breath hitches for a second, so that I can only hoarsely whisper the word 'Malfoy' in nervous response.

The bright smile that Rose was wearing only a few moments ago begins to falter uncertainly.

"What?"

"S- Sorry, Draco." I run an anxious hand through my hair, "I'm- I'm _Draco_ Ma- Malfoy." It comes out all in a pathetic stutter, and I can see that her smile is now in absolutely no danger of returning. I've lost her completely _–if not by be sheer awkwardness_, then maybe by the fact that I'm not exactly the most _popular_ person in high school. I'm more _in_famous than famous, and after my little 'incident' last semester I'm actually slightly frightened to see what they are going to do to me when I return.

Rose peers through lidded eyelids, "Aren't you the one that tried to-" she attempts to question me, but I cut her off, leaving the kitchen without say to go see where Blaise has got to.

I chew on my bottom lip uneasily, and after searching one vacant room after another I finally find Blaise standing outside in his expansive back yard with a common, red plastic cup in his hand, and a honey-blonde girl with dark lips hanging on his broad shoulders. She was pretty enough from a far, but I like to think I knew Blaise better than anyone else… He was just using this feisty girl for the sex. I chuckled silently to myself; Blaise had said so himself –just a few hours before the man had asked her to go steady.

Venturing over to where the odd couple is standing, I immediately regret it when I see who else Blaise has, _to my _misfortune, invited to be a part of the inner circle. Theodor or 'Thor', Victor and Justin. Great.

Swallowing hard, I know that I can't really blame him. It wasn't as though Blaise and I hung out at school of anything anymore… Besides, he was free to be friends with whoever he want to –even if they were my tormentors. I couldn't come between him and who he wanted to associated himself with. Judging by the looks on their individual faces, and the sickening smirks they are wearing I kind of know how the night is going to end.

I really should have listened, and stayed at home.

"Malfoy." I cringe, as Theodore says my name like it's some type of horrible disease on his tongue that he can't wait to spew out.

"I didn't know you knew Blaise." His eyes shift from my foggy ones in disgust, to look at Blaise in morbid curiosity. "Didn't think you pitied such lower-class filth as a _Malfoy_." Theodore's smile broadens, and I take that as my cue to leave. This was a mistake. A huge mistake –on both mine _and_ Blaise's part. However that entire notion is prematurely ended when I feel a forceful tug at the sleeve of my shirt, "Where do you think you're going Draco? I was only teasing."

No he wasn't. It was never just a game to Theodore and his friends. He was never 'just' teasing. And the horrible thing was that, even though I had nodded in reaction to his words, Theodore still hasn't loosened his grip on me either.

"Besides," he continues, "the night is young and just begun –what's the rush?" He sniggers, "I mean you don't have anything better to do, do you?" Then, in a much lower tone so that only I can hear what he's about to day, -"You're not going anywhere_Draco_."

I gulp, knowing full and not bothering to hide it, that he can see that I am shaking.

"Blaise," his unnamed girl whines in a high-pitched voice, "please can we go inside now –I'm –I'm feeling hungry I think." He whispers the word 'sure' into her small ears and pulls his girlfriends closer towards him by the waist –gently guiding her swaying hips to the back door, all the while peering over his shoulder at the scene that was about to play out behind him.

Victor and Justin begin to draw in on me, leaving Theodore to wave cheerfully at Blaise.

"We'll just be a few minutes out here, okay? We just need to discuss something important real quick." I can't hear Blaise's response, if he gave one at all. Once of Theodore's lackeys has pushed me aggressively to the ground and blood is pounding in my ears as I try to focus on finding an escape route. Truth be told I expected something unpleasant being that Theodore never held any regard for location, but not what happens next.

He walks over to where I am lying stupidly on the slightly overgrown grass, and falls to his knees in a dramatic fashion –digging them sharply into my chest. I give a pointed gasp, and Theodore opens his mouth tauntingly. "What's the matter Draco –can't breathe perhaps?"

I shake my head as vigorously as possible, willing to comply just this once if it'll prevent me from dying. I don't want to go this way, not against my terms. Not today.

Unfortunately, that doesn't get me what I wanted as Theodore proceeds to press his fingers around my pale neck, restricting my air flow even more. Feeling myself losing consciousness, I try one last time to get him to move off me.

"Please... can't... can't breathe." I finish, my voice breaking in an exasperated rasp.

Amazingly, he lets go this time. But not before pressing his face so close against mine that his mouth is literally inches away from my years. "You are a horrible, disgusting, sickening human being, Malfoy." Theodore articulated each adjective with amplified loathing and repulsion.

"And nobody wants you, not even your father wanted to be around you, that's probably why you're practically an orphan, so why don't you gives us all an early graduation present this year, and do _it_ properly next time." He finishes with a scowl, pulling himself to his feet and dusting his pants off –leaving me to gasp uncontrollably at the cold air.

"He's all yours Justin." Theodore makes his final comment before stalking off in the direction of the house.

Justin grins maliciously, leaving Victor and their leader to walk back up laughing to join Blaise, and the other two girls. Seeing as my gasps have been reduced to mere painful winces, I stare up at him wondering what on earth he's going to do. He stamps, hard, on my face with black leather-gripped shoes. I can feel my nose break or something –the blood spurting everywhere.

"That's for being a freak." He spits.

I struggle to close my eyes for a moment, until I can't hear his footsteps anymore. When there's silence again, I hastily open them, immediately looking up towards the murky sky. I try to name the constellations, using it to distract myself from the gut-wrenching pain... But it's no use. I can't remember any of them –not even one, and this, unfortunately, is not the type of pain that I can just ignore.

Pulling my hand up to wipe my face, I sigh uneasily, not bothering to look down at the amount of blood that is lathered in my hand –I know it's just one big scarlet mess. How am I going to explain this to my mother?

It takes me twenty, long, steps, but eventually I manage to make it to the back door without collapsing, keeling over and throwing up. I push the summer-yellow shutter door open with as much energy as I can muster, intending to look for Blaise for the second time tonight. But he's already right there, seemingly waiting for me. The guilty expression on his face says it all –I can tell that he's seen everything. From the moment Theodore had me pushed to the ground, right up until Justin smashed my face in.

"Take me home." I splutter, aware that I sound a bit different with a broken nose. It's so hard to breathe.

He looks up at me with downturned eyes, "What happened out there?" he feigns.

"Blaise, please," I moan, "just take me home. Now." I pinch the bridge of my nose, stupidly trying to stave off the salty tears, but quickly pull my hand away anyway when the pain intensifies and screams up into my forehead. Not even giving it a second thought, I pull up my navy blue shirt up and press it against my nostrils to reduce the blood flow, and wait for Blaise's response.

"There's no adult- I can't-" I glare at him now, wondering if he is really expecting me to walk back home by myself in this condition. He immediately stops giving me pathetic excuses and pulls a pair of car keys out of his expensive, extravagant pants' pocket.

In the car, Blaise makes me like back with me head up, so that I don't start to drip blood on his newly refined interior. He doesn't speak to me, and I can tell it's over between us. Sure, we had been pretty close friends since the first year of middle school. But ever since high school had begun, he had been trying to uphold his image. And I've been trying to live mine down. Being friends with me any longer would only ruin Blaise's social standing now that Theodore and the like were well aware of the wretched fact that we had been former best mates.

In less than a few minutes we pull up into my driveway. Blaise offers to walk me up to my door, but I just wave him off with the brush of my hand for the last time, and psychologically prepare myself for my mother's reaction.

"Draco! Where have you been?" She pulls me into the hall, making me stumble over the loose, threadbare carpet, and examines the blood on my shirt before quickly shutting the door behind us.

"What's –Where did all this blood come from?" I'm surprised she can even see the dark stains in the fabric. Her eyes, in due course, flitter up properly towards my face for the first time, "What have you done now, Draco? Did _you_ do this to yourself?" She's livid, or as close as to extremely angry as mother can get. I pull my body out of her grip, and give her a hastily thought out reply.

"Yes mother, I did this. I hate myself so much that I thought that breaking my face might be an improvement." She's clearly not impressed with my sarcasm –both eyebrows raised in response. I tell her that all I want right now is to be left alone. She reacts by crossing her arms across her chest furiously. I take the hint for what it is –_racing_ towards my bedroom before she has time to tell me that I need to get some type of professional medical attention.

As soon as I walk into my room, I sense a shift in the stuffy air –there's someone in here. I'm prepared to shout at whoever it is to get out, but when I turn my head towards the direction of my bed I unexpectedly, even in the dark, meet with bitter onyx-coloured eyes, and a cold voice that sends shivers down my spine and can only belong to one person.

"You're extremely lucky I used to be a physician, or that would be permanent." The person points a long finger towards my nose.

I switch the light on.

It's Snape.

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**A/N: **En cue -_Severus_! **Review** –I don't mind what you have to say as long as it's constructive. Next chapter will probably be up within the week, or the month. I'm in my final year of high school –so please forgive me if I don't update as fast as you would like. Thank you.


	3. Elsewhere For Summer

**Disclaimer: **I do not own any of the Harry Potter characters.

**Warnings: **Arguing, and retort of a god-fatherly kind.

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"_**A letter home  
And I know we don't speak much  
And we both know I'm not keen to  
But I think there's things I've left unsaid  
I'm okay, don't worry  
I wish I'd been a better kid  
I'm trying to slow down  
I'm sorry for letting you down"**_

**-Asking Alexander_Someone, Somewhere**

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**Chapter 3**: Elsewhere for Summer

"Did my mother ask you to be here, Severus?" I try to sound aloof, but the pain is killing me causing me to cringe with the tenderness of it. My nose is starting to bleed again, dripping to the floor in consistent red splashes. Pulling my already ruined shirt up towards it yet again, I wait for his response.

It doesn't come altogether immediately, at first he remains seated and just stares at me, seemingly studying me with his dark eyes, but eventually he speaks once again in the same slow drawl from before.

"Yes, in fact, your mother did Draco. This was all arranged before the school term ended –I thought she would have told you all this already." Severus' voice is laced with a morsel of rehearsed confusion and contemplative thought. I flush guiltily as his words hit me. This was probably what my mother was trying to tell me this afternoon while I wasn't making any attempt to listen.

"So why are you here then, in my room? I ask in a more polite, but muffled tone –stepping back towards the wall and sinking to the floor in a depressed manner, which is not overlooked by my godfather.

"There will be time for discussion later Draco," a pause, "First, let me examine your face."

I look up at him tiredly. "No."

Severus sighs wearingly, "It was not a question."

When I don't make any attempt to move, he gets up gracefully off his position on my single bed, and makes his way over to where I am sitting on the floor. "Now Draco." His tone is static and threatening, making me quickly scramble to my feet before he has a chance to bear down on me in the same manner again.

Halfway across the room, I stop and turn to him again. "Where do you want me?" I ask rather stubbornly. My godfather doesn't meet my eyes, but gently tells me to lie on the bed. The sudden switch in tenor unnerves me a little, but not enough to distract me from the fact that the sheets on my bed are not crumpled to the once side anymore. They have been straightened out, and it looks as though someone has taken the time to smoothen out all the creases. I don't remember the last time I've changed my bedding.

"It's better if you keep your whole body horizontal –there is little to no chance of you damaging anything further." He walks back over to where I'm lying, leans over my frame and begrudgingly begins to pull my shirt away from nose to inspect my face.

I feel two cold hands pressing against my cheeks –_they feel funny, almost numb-like_. "You have slight swelling," Severus says, before sticking any icy finger into my small mouth. I can feel it pushing against my tongue like those ice-cream shaped sticks you find in a batch in the doctor's office.

"Does it hurt –at all?"

I shake my head, and that earns me a sharp rap on the left arm, near my shoulder. "Don't move your head Draco." I exhale noisily through my mouth and wait for to finish inspecting the injury, hoping that it'll be over soon.

Not having taken notice of when I had closed my eyes, I snap them open again when Severus' voice breaks through. "You can sit up now Draco." He squeezes my hand in surprised reassurance, and walks into my bathroom, dark cloak billowing behind him in its usual fashion. I don't recall my godfather ever been seen _not_ wearing that shabby cloak.

Pushing myself up onto the haunches of my elbows, I look around the rest of my room, noting that my computer desk is just about spotless. The brown ceramics cups from the past two weeks have probably been taken to the kitchen, and it seems as if the muddled pile of newspaper clippings have all been placed precisely to one side in date order. The insides of my stomach twist in horror.

Severus returns with a wet flannel-cloth in his hands. He can see that I've noticed an overall change in my room, but he keeps the same calm, stoic expression on his face. Nothing he does in his movements betrays him as the culprit.

"Wipe the blood off your face." He says, throwing the cream coloured cloth at me. I catch it with my right hand. It's warm. I scrunch it up into a messy ball and do what he's asked. Not a minute later I pull away again because it hurts.

"It's not completely broken –although you are going to experience a lot of bruising under your eyes that might resemble a breakage." Severus is leaning against the emerald green wall across from my bed, arms neatly placed by his sides, "But I'm going to take a wild guess and say that that's not going to alter your appearance by much. You've barely been sleeping, Draco –_if at all_." He finishes, looking at me intently in the eyes.

"So? It's the school holidays. Every normal teenager stays up late." I mumble, breaking the gaze between us. "What has that got to do with anything?"

Severus doesn't skip a beat. "_Why_ haven't you been sleeping?"

I look at him angrily, and decide that it's my turn to start asking question that will probably get no answers. "Why did you go through my stuff? You had no right to touch it! It was perfectly fine the way it was before... I liked it..." I hiss.

"Really Draco?" Severus' lips are already beginning to curl in frustrated irritation.

"Why have you not told me the reason as to why you are here –what is going on Snape?" I grab a pillow from behind me, and attempt to throw it at him. It lands lamely on the floor not even half a metre away from me. I look around for something else to throw, perhaps something blunt, but there's nothing. The whole room looks like it has been cleaned. I hate it.

Moving away from his solitary position against the wall, Severus makes his way, almost dauntingly, to where I've pressed myself up against my headboard. "First of all, Malfoy," I flinch at the use of my surname –it's always a clear indication of when my godfather is upset with me, "You're behaving irrationally. Calm yourself immediately."

He proceeds to sit back on the bed again. "As a legal guardian I am entitled to do whatever has to be done to keep you from danger, and right now at this present moment in time you seem to be at a high-levelled risk of doing harm to yourself."

I grit my teeth in frustration, "I haven't done anything."

A curious eyebrow is cocked in my direction, Severus' smooth voice trying to diffuse the agitation in my voice. "When you say you 'haven't done anything', are you referring to the past half an hour? Because apparently you've been very busy in the past month." He peers over towards my desk for a brief moment, "How many suicide attempts has that been in total now Malfoy –thirteen? Do I even need to ask you how you got that broken nose?" His eyes gaze over the appearance of my entire body.

"You are taking your life for granted Draco." His tone fixed and definite; I don't even get a chance to answer. "Secondly, as I told you before –this was planned. You're coming to stay with me for a while. I came tonight to collect you."

I blanch.

"Wh- what?" I spit out.

My godfather doesn't give my outburst the time of day. "You have fifteen minutes to pack." The expression on his face remains void of any compromising emotion. I, on the other hand, get up off my small bed and stand up so that the cream flannel clothe I have had in my hand the entire time falls to the ground.

"For how long?" I question, staring at Severus. He immediately follows suit and does the same –he is well aware that he has the advantage. He is at least a good head taller than me.

"The summer."

A snort escapes my mouth, "I'm not going."

"Yes, you are Malfoy," A curtain of black hairs falls in front of his face –he doesn't bother moving it back behind his ear, "whether you approve of it or not is irrelevant." The level tone in his voice is forced, and I can tell he's getting angry.

"I'm not in the mood for another one of your teenage rants. You will cease this defiant behaviour, and listen to me –have your stuff ready by the time I come back." Severus gives me a dark sneer before turning around, facing the direction of my bedroom door.

I sulk, my mouth set. "Where are you going now Snape?"

As if he is speaking to the wall, he hurriedly utters the next few words –"To speak to your mother." He makes his way to leave, stopping to say "Remember Draco, fifteen minutes."

The moment my godfather is gone I fall to the wooden floor, pulling my scrawny knees towards my chest and wrapping my arms tightly around them. I lower my face until it is completely hidden, and let the emotions of the past couple of days free from their bounds –tears streaming down my cheeks, and sobs I'm too miserable to stifle. A while later the door creaks open again, and I can hear someone calling my name.

"Draco."

I hastily rub at my eyes, even though my whole face is burning now, and look up, trying to keep a determined, black expression on my face. Severus is, surprisingly, sitting on the floor right in front of me. For a moment I think I detect a flicker of weakness in his composure. But as abruptly as I had noticed it, it was gone, and he stares at me with the same irritated look about him that he's worn the whole night.

"It's- It's time to go." He finally says.

I don't look at him now; instead, I let my words bounce against the wall. "I didn't pack."

He nods his head, and mumbles the words 'clearly', before getting up off the floor and walks towards my wardrobe.

"What would you like to take with?" Severus tries in a calmer tone. I reply in a deadpan voice.

"I don't care."

There's a short pause, before my godfather snaps. "Fine."

Snape locates a medium sized travelling bag lying on the dusty floor of my cupboard, picks the old things up and begins to stuff random bits of clothing into it. I want to tell him that he really shouldn't bother –that before this evening, before he had arrived, I had spent most of my days locked up and purposefully suffocating in this emerald room. And at night, sneaking out to venture to one place, and one place only: the park.

The air is always clearer there, in that abandoned forest of a supposed playing field. I can think.

Sometimes.

But I don't say anything at all. I let my godfather rifle through the cupboard and my personal stuff for a couple more minutes, and watch him stalk off towards my bathroom to a get a few necessary toiletries. Finally, after fifteen minutes –the same amount of time Severus had given me, everything that I could possibly need, according to my 'legal guardian' was packed into the black travelling case, and I'm now being told to meet him by his car outside.

"I didn't see it in the drive way when Blaise dropped me off." I comment, immediately regretting it when a flash back of tonight's foul events flare through my memory. Snape doesn't make to turn around, but continues to walk out of my room.

"Of course you didn't –it's at the back of the house." I swear I hear a low mumble of 'you insolent child' as he leaves, realising that it is probably one of the safer places for him to have parked. Our house situated in one of the poorer parts of town and all that, thanks to the new complex development just a few blocks over. I eventually get up off the floor, and turn towards me desk again, before leaving the room to follow after Severus.

The neaten newspaper pile stares up at me, taunting me. I slowly walk over towards the heap, with the full intention of finally throwing the entire obsession into the white, plastic waste bin. But when a coloured picture of my school catches my eyes I change my minds and stuff that incriminating page into my back pocket.

If you had read the article you would have found that it was dated _June 13__th_ –the very day that I had suddenly decided that I wasn't afraid of extreme heights anymore. Even the local photographer managed to capture the look of absolute horror on some of the students' faces as they watched me inch closer to the edge.

There's a little black dot on top of the school building. I guess you already know, but that's me.

In the living room my mother is sitting alone on an old worn couch, we never had much furniture, legs crossed in a nervous fashion, and she's wringing her delicate fingers obsessively as she watches me cross the hallway towards her.

"Draco, I– I didn't know what else I was supposed to do. I had to contact your –your godfather. He's the only one that knows how to-"

I don't let her finish. "For -forget about it mother."

She stands quickly, letting her small hands fall to her sides tiredly. She looks older, faded somehow. Her hair is much lighter than what it used to be –it's starting to whiten at the roots, making it look as if she hasn't dyed her hair properly. Even so, my mother's eyes are still as piercing as they were in her youth, however the wrinkles around each bear witness to fact that she's had a lot to deal with in her life.

I suddenly feel incredibly guilty looking into her face now, knowing that most of what has caused her such pain has been because of me. She shifts awkwardly on her bare feet, unsure of what to say as she casts her eyes downwards, pretending to concentrate on something very interesting on the tiled floor. I break the silence for her.

"Uh, goodbye mother."

She her head abruptly snaps upwards to gaze back at me in shock. This is probably one of the first times I have said anything descent to her in a while, _maybe a month_.

"Good- goodbye Draco. Please- please just-" I know what she's going to say. She said it the last time Severus took me away. "Please just promise me you're going to- going to get better, okay? You have to be a good boy for your mother." Moisture is beginning to brim her eyelids.

I can't.

I can't promise her something that we both know I'm just going to end up breaking. I turn to leave, and she catches my wrist sharply in one of her hands. "Draco?" Tears are silently rolling down her aged cheeks now.

"I have to go." I say quietly under my breath, not quite meeting her startled gaze, and struggling to free my limb from her tight grip.

She tries to pull me into her arms for an embrace. I quickly duck them and head towards door. I pause just as I'm about to reach for the bronze handle and listen. My mother is breaking down, and I don't have the heart to turn around and look at her again. I open the door and pretend just for a moment that this is her lover's fault. Why isn't he here? Why isn't he comforting her?

Any icy breeze stabs me in the chest, and brings the shock of the fact that I'm realising that this is all really my fault. I should have been there for her when my father left; I should have picked up the pieces. I should have worked harder. I shouldn't have been such an emotional screw up.

I should have been a better kid.

The door slams shut in finality behind me.

I'm sorry.

* * *

**A/N: **Previously I mentioned, in Chapter 1: Memories of a Father, that when Draco didn't want to get psychiatric treatment Snape complied. That, however, doesn't mean to say that their relationship is great. It could be fair and possibly true to say that Draco is probably guarded around Severus the most because he sees through Draco, and perhaps understands his behaviour more than most people, and for that matter, doesn't put up with it or just ignores him like everyone else. **Opinion**?

**Review**! I don't mind what you have to say as long as it's constructive. Next chapter will probably be up within the week, or the month. I'm in my final year of high school –so please forgive me if I don't update as fast as you would like.


	4. I Don't Have to Like It

**Disclaimer: **I do not own any of the Harry Potter characters.

**Warnings: **Slightly 'out of character' Snape.

* * *

"_**It's the first time that I'm worried  
Of a bad dream, of a journey  
On the highway, through the valley  
It's a long road through the night  
It's a long road..."**_

**-Blink 182_Kaliedscope**

* * *

**Chapter 4**: I Don't Have to Like It

No one spoke; neither of us said anything. Not a word. Severus didn't even look at me as I finally saddled into the back of the car, and huddled with my luggage beside me to the left, and my hands clutched closely in the space between my chest and my drawn knees.

I didn't really blame him. I didn't want to look in his frustrated, disappointed eyes either. It seemed as if he had gotten over his initial fury directed solely at me, and had now resigned himself to a still form of silence, where it felt like if dared to breathe I'd choke.

Turning my head away from Severus' particularly sour face, I peered out the window hoping my eyes would be able to settle on something more pleasant, even in the darkness. Something that didn't remind of the reason I was in this situation in the first place. Oh, I had such high hopes...

The scenery eventually changed from the quiet, plain houses and flats of the town's suburbia into the more remotes hillside spaces of its outskirts, as Severus steers the car away from the central heart of the city. I allow my grey eyes to wander, and concentrate on the immediate landscape beside the soiled road.

The wind is running through what looks like a field of flowers, _perhaps marigolds_, making them dance, reaching up towards the sky as we passed by with speed. It's beautiful.

I watched the yellow, sallow pastures moving as if an invisible force were flying among the countryside, swiftly making a series of uncoordinated patterns in the meadow –_mesmerizing me_, and therefore did not notice that Severus' car had now come to a complete standstill. I had no perception of time. It could have been hours since we had left my house in that little dirt town –it could have been just minutes.

Severus clears his throat, the scratchy noise emitting from it bringing me to his attention. When I don't budge, he opens his mouth in an irritated manner.

"Get out." he says without much emotion in the words. The cold tone does nothing to ease my nerves as I peer out the window and glance up at the tall structure in front of us; confused for a moment as to where we are. On closer inspection, I realised that we've arrived at what looks like... _Snape Manor_.

Wait.

Severus has a manor?

The building is huge, dark grey and mottled in colour, and highly foreboding. If anything, its eeriness is only amplified by the fact that the entire structure is surrounded by a two metre high, wrought iron fencing. The prospect of actually having to enter it is too daunting.

"Now Draco." My godfather hisses impatiently at my continued lack of movement.

A long, pale arm reached forcefully for the passenger door on my left and wrenched the thing open. I sullenly slip out without making much noise, pushing the travelling case in front of me onto a cobbled stone, watching Severus motioning for me to follow him with a quick hand gesture as he begins to venture towards a gate of what I presume in supposed to be my new 'home' for the remainder of the school holidays.

Staring at Snape's expansive quarters I come to the obvious conclusion that this in no normal house, but is probably some special monument in the Snape family that has been bequeathed upon each subsequent generation as the older passes away. It's evident by the fact that the property not only encompasses the high windows of the Victorian era found nearly two hundred years ago, but several wings of a spanned nature that seem to creep out of the main part of the building, stopping short of becoming a part of the grounds themselves.

The whole aura around the manor is... unsettling to say the least.

"Sev- Severus..." I stutter, something that I resented, but couldn't control... After seven years of somehow managing to not constantly stammer over my words, I began to wonder sometimes if I would ever return to the same ill at ease, nervous child I had been at the mere age of nine years.

Apparently it was so.

My godfather pauses, turning swiftly to face me –the quick movement frightens me a little and I take a stumbled step backwards, almost tripping over my own feet. We're mere feet away from the awful front entrance, so it doesn't take Severus long to reach where I'm standing with his large striding steps, looking at –_what I believe_, should be a cove for vampires and other foul things that lurk during the hours of darkness.

"Yes _Draco_?" he drawls, his eyes softening for a moment when he finally realises that my legs are starting to tremble without my consent, threatening to give out on me.

"Draco?"

I swallow hard, attempting to gulp down any nervousness that might still be evident in my voice. "I- uh..." I don't get to finish the sentence before my knees really do buckle beneath me, but Severus is fast and manages to catch me in an embrace before I fall sporadically to the ground.

"What is it?" Severus' low voice murmurs down towards my ears. My cheeks are pressed against his torso, hiding the scarlet of my embarrassment, and I can feel his arms wrapped around me keeping me upright. Somewhere, deep in the confines of my chest, I feel the pain of knowing what the answer is. But for some reason I can't bring myself to say it. It's just too pitiful.

How can I tell my godfather that his house scares me? I'm nearly an adult for crying out loud.

"You have exactly two seconds to tell me what's clearly bothering you. Or I can simply leave you out here on your own for the rest of the night." I wince at his sharp-tongued words, before muffling something into the tattered material of his cloak, not really certain if he's being serious about leaving me alone outside by myself, or not.

Severus sighs, pulling a hand away from rubbing my back soothingly to run it resignedly through his own greasy hair. "I'm not going to ask you again, Draco." He says evenly.

"I know." I mumble depressingly.

"Do you?"

I look up just in time to see Severus arch a characteristically thin eyebrow. As if to say that I have no idea what he's talking about... When no answer is forthcoming from my mouth, he loses his patience and draws both of his arms back to the sides of his body, shaking off the feeling of displaying any such act of comfort to his godson. I falter, but quickly regain my posture before he has time to notice that I've been leaning against him for support the entire time.

"I gave you an opportunity to talk without judgement, without critique, but open, honest objectivity, and you failed to seize it. Let's go." He spits out rather bitterly.

I bite down on my lip, worrying a scab that's been there for a few days. "Sev-"

"Hush Draco!" My godfather's eyes are wild with anger, and I physically recoil with fear. He stops himself short from saying anything further when he becomes aware of this, and proceeds to open the front gate with a large skeleton-type key that he's pulled out of the folds in his cloak –all the while pretending as if I hadn't just flinched at the sight of my own guardian.

The gate creeks a bit, scratching at the rust between its hinges and bolts, as if it has only just been used recently. I don't like the sound of it either way. _When was the last time this place was inhibited by actual humans?_

"Pick up your things and follow me if you will." Severus utters, not once turning around to see if I've actually listened to his instructions. I do anyway, not wanting to risk his snapping tone –at least not tonight again.

The case is heavy to the hold. I wonder what he's put in it, but don't put too much effort into contemplating this, as Severus is already way ahead of me, slipping into the darkness and I can barely make out the outline of his cloak. I hastily pull the thing into my arms and gradually walk the path up towards Snape's manor, keeping my eyes downturned and focused on my feet moving step by step in front of me.

The land surrounding the walkway is unfamiliar and dark, and I have an uncomfortable feeling about some of the older trees that have embellished the property of the years as it would seem.

They look too much like the old, dead trees found in the graveyard near my school building. After a few more moments of staring at them jadedly, I'm, _thankfully_, broken out of the spell by the abrupt call of my name.

"Draco! Draco, where are you? I thought I told you to follow me! What are you doing out there, brat?" Severus is shouting from somewhere in the distance. He sounds far away... and a little too annoyed for my liking.

I immediately drop everything, and blindly run towards the house, not even stopping to think about what I've just done.

When I finally reach the door, after nearly tripping and falling in the shadows three times over, I pull at the aged silver-coloured door knobs and just about have a panic attack when the damnable things won't open. Something, somewhere in the back of my frightened mind tells me that maybe I should try it the other way. I push at the figurines of snakes' head, and once inside, collapse to the floor in terrified relief.

"Where are your things?" A silky voice drifts over to me, my thoughts clouded.

I try to think about what Severus is asking me, but it is too difficult when it feels like my chest is about to explode. I peer down at my hands and watch them shake nervously. A sob threatens to break from lips and I desperately try to choke it down as Severus makes his way to where I'm lying messily on the floor in front of the door.

"Look at me." I peer up at him, trying to hold a steady gaze between us for more than a few seconds, but even that is too much and I fail miserably. A cold finger lifts my chin and keeps it in place so that I am now staring into the dark eyes of my godfather.

"If I had known that you were going to react this badly to me being in your presence, to you being here," Severus makes a hand gesture indicating the expanse of the manor, "then I'm grateful your mother withheld the fact from you until now –not that it seemed like you were paying attention anyway." I make a passable sneer at this comment, but Severus continues regardless.

"You will abide by my rules while you reside under my roof Draco. No exceptions. If I find out that you have disobeyed me you will be punished adequately. It is as simple as that –understood?"

I don't answer.

"I said," Severus casts me a threatening look, "is that _understood_?"

I nod weakly, pulling my chin defiantly out of his firm grip and lay my head soothingly back down on the cold, tiled floor.

We must be in the front room of the house –the foyer or something. There's a large lit fireplace in the corner adorned with a marble mantelpiece that's covered in grime and dusty cobwebs. Seated around the blazing fire are several chairs and couches of varying kinds and suited textures. The fabric is noticeably damp and you can smell the mustiness of it in the air. To the far left of the room there's a long winding staircase and at several points in the walls there are mahogany doors leading to who knows where. Severus interrupts my analysis of the room with an artificial clearing of his long, slender throat.

"_Where_ are your things Draco?" he asks again, this time with a little more force.

"Out -outside." I breathe, not even bothering to look up at him anymore –I'm still trying to catch my breath.

Severus blinks in silence for several minutes, before finally speaking. "You should fetch them then. I believe it's going to rain." He says matter-of-factly, still looking down at me as if I was some sort of interesting science experiment ready to explode, or change colour.

"Yeah..." I answer in subdued response, pulling my legs towards my upper body and closing my eyes, telling myself it's just for a few minutes. For a few minutes and then I'll get up, listen to Severus and go back outside. Maybe.

My body hurts everywhere, and I feel so tired –more exhausted than I've felt in a long while. So drained and devoid of anything; I don't even register the strong arms that are pulling me into a warm embrace and lifting me beneath my unsightly, knobbly knees. There's a comment of _'You're entirely too thin Draco' _and I want to tell Severus that he's entirely too snarky, but decide to ignore it just the same.

Dark shapes seem to be emerging from the walls, leaving me to subconsciously nuzzle my head into Severus' collar and twist his cloak into the fists of my hands.

I think he might be carrying me up that long flight of stairs. His footsteps are heavy, and controlled in nature.

"Severus?" I whisper against the rapidly beating pulse in his pastel neck.

"Yes?"

The vibration of the simple word tickles softly against my skin, making me giggle stupidly. I try to open my eyes, because what I have to ask is important, but I can't seem to get my eyelids to comply. The most I manage to make out is a soft orange glow of fire that appears to be reflecting off Severus's pale skin. Unfortunately, even that doesn't hold my attention so I close them again.

"Where- where are we?" I try to stifle a yawn.

I don't hear anything for a long time, except the slow steady rhythm of Severus's feet against the floorboards of the stairs. After a while I don't think he's going to answer, so I forget about it for the moment and succumb to the promise of sleep –wondering when last I had actually slept willingly and not passed out because of sheer exhaustion.

Eventually I feel the warmth of my godfather's body sadly leave me, as he gently puts me down to lay on something rather soft that smells like vanilla and lavender. Curling into the space I am surprised when tender lips touch my forehead in a fleeting fashion, and a kind hand tousles my hair for a brief second. I lean instinctively, and guiltily, into the touch like a small child, speculating as to who else might be in the new room with me.

But not enough to actually open my eyes and see who it is. I'm too tired.

The last words that make their way to my sleep-addled brain are said in the low undertones of Severus Snape, answering my question from before.

"You're home Draco... Where you're safe."

* * *

**A/N: **So what did you think of this chapter? I thought it was kind of sweet in the end... And before anyone freaks out I have realised that I've left a few questions that need answers in this chapter and some chapters before that, like –'Why did Draco's father leave the family?', 'Why is Draco confused about _Snape Manor _if he has spent the summer with Severus before?' and my favourite: 'Why is Draco a little bit afraid of the appearance of the manor?' –Well! All in good time readers. All in good time. If I rush into it now there will be nothing to read about later on. Please let me know if you have any other questions, or things that I've mentioned that might be bothering you, okay? Sorry, I'm a little tired –its 1 o' clock in the morning over here, and I'm almost completely out of it. Good night my fellow readers.

**Review** –I don't mind what you have to say as long as it's constructive. Next chapter will probably be up within the week, or the month. I'm in my final year of high school –so please forgive me if I don't update as fast as you would like.


	5. Dreams Can Be Real Too

**Disclaimer: **I do not own any of the Harry Potter characters.

**A/N: **This quick update is in response to the quick review of the previous chapter. **Thank you**!

**Warnings: **Bad dreams

* * *

"_**Don't go, I can't do this on my own.  
Don't go, I can't do this on my own.  
Save me from the ones that haunt me in the night.  
I can't live with myself, so stay with me tonight.  
Don't go.  
Don't go."**_

**-Bring Me The Horizon_Don't Go**

* * *

**Chapter 5**: Dreams Can Be Real Too

Cold, soft fingers edge through the murkiness, almost daring to pull me out of the dark grey restlessness of my mind, however, they fail pathetically and I slip mercilessly into the same chilling terror as before...

I can feel my hands are firmly grasping something in my tight fists, its solid but I can't seem to perceive what it is. Pulling down hard on the object, I surprisingly lose my grip, making the thing rigidly slap against what sounds customarily like cherry wood-oak. My sight slowly begins to clear, and I realise through blurred vision that it's a door. The item I had been clutching is a snake-twisted door knob –the distinctive entrance to _Snape Manor_.

And I'm locked outside.

A strange feeling of dread washes over me, as I try to suck in some air into my lungs to level my breathing, which is beginning to hitch in my throat.

_Severus would never. _

He wouldn't leave me alone outside, would he? Not in this awful place –where –where –no. I shake my head, not wanting to believe it –_any of it_. Not after... No I _refused_ to believe it. Severus... Severus would never do that to me. Never purposefully keep me closed up, and away from him, even if I hated it, not again, not when-

Something brushes against my shaking hand. With a sharp intake of breath I whip my head up in the direction I believe it's coming from, instantly trying to forget my rambled thoughts by shoving them carelessly to the back of my mind. It happens again, and this time I can feel what I think is a scratchy-snaky sensation of a rough palm attempting to grasp my fingers.

I pull my arms closer towards my body; hugging them closely to my chest. My face reddens, cheeks burning and eyes tear-filled with panic. I can't see anything besides that wretched door –the traditional midnight blue of the sky has been replaced with gloomy shades of grey that blend into the darkness that's taken over the manor and grounds. I attempt to call for Severus but the only thing that comes out of my mouth is a strangled gurgling sound similar to that of a dying child.

Reaching for my throat I realise that the same scratchy, snake-like hands from before are now clutching at my neck, threatening to pull me into the dark unknown. I turn around, blindly pushing at nothing only to lose my balance and stumble down a flight of steps.

The fall hurts.

Each marble step digs sharply into the spaces in between my ribs and small shoulder blades, making me cry out weakly in pain until I eventually come to a stop at the bottom of the stairs. Somebody grabs me harshly by the shoulders, drawing me back up to a standing position. For a moment I think it's my godfather. That perhaps he might have interpreted his name out of my choking screams, but I'm mistaken. I find myself on the floor again after being backhanded so viciously across the face I lose my footing.

"Severus." I whimper naively. "I can't... I'm sorry..."

Abruptly several shadows loom in my small line of sight, and I can just about make out the face of Theodore, and the movements of the rest of my tormentors –his alleged 'friends'.

"Malfoy..." A menacing voice whispers –sounding eerily far away and right beside me at the same time. Hearing it again said again in the same manner not a second later, my body freezes in reaction. "Malfoy..."

"Shut up." I spit with false bravery, just wanting it to stop, for the fear churning in my stomach to subside. That earns me a fresh kick to the shin. I don't make a sound; with those faces bearing down on me I don't have time to concentrate on the sting of it.

"Draco." I flinch, trying to push myself up off the ground, but it's difficult. The wild grass is damp and slippery, and a hand is already begging to press down on my chest.

"Remember last summer?" I press my hands into fists, letting my fingernails dig into my palms to ground me.

"Malfoy?" I shake my head, anxiously. Theodore knows I'm lying.

"No?" He cocks a stupid eyebrow, a knowing smile playing on his lips.

I gulp.

"We could do well to remind you." Says another voice quickly, just half a metre away.

No.

They were suddenly on me, each landing a swift blow to my abdomen. A sick sense of pain engulfs my stomach causing me to automatically roll over to my side in an effort to try and control it, to make them cease their physical punishment.

"Please..." I moan, "Please... Stop."

That doesn't help. All of them begin to snatch at me –pulling me and pushing me around, all the while punches and kicks are reverberating off my skin and various other parts, leaving large bruises and the sound of several bones breaking in their wake. I can't move; feeling weak that tears are beginning to stream down my dirty face.

_Pathetic._

_Useless._

_Pitiful. _

"Severus... Stop." I choke.

"Shut it Draco Malfoy!" Someone manages to connect a fist with my chin. Immediately my mouth fills with a warm metallic substance. Blood. I turn my head slightly, and through feeble sobs I'm able to at least let most of it dribble down my cheek.

I notice after a while that I'm barely able to breathe anymore... The blood is starting to build up in my mouth again, and it's hard to spit it all out at once. By instinct my hands reach forward and I try to scratch at the face in front of me, hoping to push them aside so I can make out the light surrounding the door of _Snape Manor. _I know that if I can just see that I'll be okay. The door means that Severus is there, somewhere inside the great house. The building that reminds me scarily too much of school now that Theodore's gang somehow managed to arrive here, and he's repeating everything that he did to me the last summer. But in some warped way the sight of it, even now, promises that Severus is still there. And I'll get through this.

That one hopeful thought is ruined when I realise that I've ceased to take a breath for a while now, and hands that seem belong to Theodore are deceptively making their way down to the lower half of my body, coming increasingly close to the waistband of my jeans as he whispers my name over and over again, making me squirm.

I worry my bottom lip between my teeth, and try to move one last time beneath the bodies of my tormentors. When I can't even feel the pain anymore, because of the sheer force and impact of it, I draw what little oxygen I have left in my lungs, and scream. A blood curling scream that drowns out everything around me –the manor, the black of the night, Theodore, his hands, the pain, the shame... Everything. Until it all fades away.

Gasping, I open my eyes. The exterior of _Snape Manor _has changed, and merged into the appearance of one dark room. Still feeling the same pressure of the hands before I start to kick wildly, arching my back away from expected strikes. When a cooler hand touches my face, I nearly screech from the surprising gentleness of it.

"Draco." Someone whispers. I feel my stomach do somersaults, threatening to relieve itself of all its contents. I don't want to hear my name. Ever. I hate it. I hate it so much.

"Draco, listen to me."

My mouth twists over the spoken words.

And there it is, bile is spewing mercilessly from my belly.

A course bit of cloth touches my sweaty cheek, scratchy and abrasive to the touch, so as to wipe any remaining saliva from my face.

"No... Please... Don't- don't... Please..." I snivel, too afraid to open my eyes after I had snapped them shut again. I wanted everything to just disappear. Sensing the same soft hand reaching for me once more, I try to move away from it but something is caught around my body now, suffocating me. "Draco..." The same faint voice says my name again.

When I don't respond, they ignore my incomprehensible pleas and grab hold of my bony shoulders –shaking them lightly, forcing my eyes to widen open in fear.

I glance around, madly looking for an escape while desperately trying to get whatever is keeping me bound away from me. Eventually calm hands find my sweaty face and force me to look at the owner of them.

Icy onyx-coloured eyes are filled, uncharacteristically, with anxiety and pain.

It's Severus.

There's a small amount of movement, shuffling around me, and then a lamp is switched on lighting the room by a fair amount so that I can see that I am indeed in a bedroom of some sort and not still in the same bad dream.

Pale blue sheets that had twisted themselves around my body have been torn off the bed, with my godfather getting up off the wicker chair he's clearly been seated in for the whole night –judging by the thin, dusty multi-coloured blanket that's draped over one arm, to sit gingerly next to me on the bed. I recoil a little, earning a world-weary sigh from Severus.

"Dra-" I whimper, and he notices it, thereby making no effort to complete the namesake. "Child," a pause, "You're not breathing." He finally whispers.

I realises he's right –_in a way_. I've been purposely holding my breath trying to keep the distance between us, and taking no notice of the tears still pouring down my face. Severus wants none of it. He manoeuvres himself about me so that my back is resting against his chest and his arms are secured around mine, keeping me from scratching at his skin.

'_Anymore than you already have' _my mind quips sarcastically, when I spot angry red scratches blotching my godfather's appearance. I flush guiltily, wondering if I did that.

"Match my breathing," Severus talks clearly into my ear, "Feel the rise and fall of my chest..." I try, but I can't seem to catch it; my body tensing in his arms repeatedly. "Please. You're going to make yourself sick child –_listen _to me..."

It's the 'please' that does it for me. Severus has never begged for anything in my presence –not even once, so I put all my energy into calming myself down. Even if it's only for him –my godfather.

When we're both finally quietly breathing at the same levelled pace, I relax into the embrace as Severus soothingly wipes the moisture and sweat off my face. I look down at my shirt ashamed, observing that it's awfully wet, half covered in salivary vomit and some other transparent liquid... I don't give it too much thought though, noting a half-full glass of water on the bedside table and that the sleeve of my godfather's cloak is also soaked to the skin in the same vile mess as my own clothes.

_Maybe it was the blood._ My skin bristles at the memory, and Severus holds me closer to him. "It was a dream. Just a dream..." I hear him saying. I nod, believing him for the most part, until my fingers pull tightly at the fabric of my old jeans. No.

A nightmare.

* * *

**A/N: **My not-so-first shot at a nightmare... Revamped a little. Was it good? Was it bad? Can I make better? Do you have tips? Suggestions? Anything? Well then... **Review**! I want this to sound as authentic as possible so help me to do so. And props to anyone that can pick up the correlations between Draco's dream and recent events. Tell me what you think they might be.

I don't mind what you have to say as long as it's constructive. Next chapter will probably be up within the week, or the month. I'm in my final year of high school –so please forgive me if I don't update as fast as you would like.


	6. Tell-tale Signs

**Disclaimer: **I do not own any of the Harry Potter characters.

**A/N: **"**Hello**!" to all the new followers, and people who have favourited this story.

**Warnings: **Discussion about the summer, arguing and some questionable 'results'.

* * *

"_**My body's failing,  
I think I've hit the floor,  
I cannot feel anything anymore.  
My body's failing,  
I think I've hit the floor,  
I can't remember anything anymore."**_

**-Of Mice & Men_The Depths**

* * *

**Chapter 6**: Tell-tale Signs

I woke up to an empty room.

Matching curtains have been drawn, allowing the soft light of early morning to filter in and tell me that I hadn't exactly had the best of nights.

The pale blue blanket is still lying helplessly on the floor, reminding me that my body feels cold. I shiver. Groaning, I wrap my arms around myself, and look at the night stand. Where the glass from before is supposed to be situated, is a plastic Sippy-cup used by toddlers. I inwardly recoil at the sight of it, realising that half the bed is wet... I hoped that it was just water, but there are clear signs that I was sick last night –a relatively disgusting stain of dried up vomit on the sheets to name one.

Severus' empty chair, and the sight of it makes me swallow hard in disappointment. I don't know what I was expecting...

_To wake up with Severus still looking down on me in concern and clutching my hand like some type of miserable, needy baby?_

I shake my head, trying to dispel the thought. Holding my waist tightly, I stumble towards the door and open it. Stepping out onto the carpeted landing, I pause –listening for some remote sound that says Severus is awake. When I don't hear anything, I slowly venture down the stairwell, my left hand tracing the wooden banister, and find myself in the same front room as yesterday.

Stopping, I peer around the room for the second time. The fire is still lit; casting a warm glow upon the furniture and making it not look as unsightly as it had the night before. It's almost welcoming, tempting me to walk over and sit down on one of the great armchairs. I don't however, but rather reach for the handle of the front door. Twisting the door knob, it doesn't open and my panic is only half-soothed by the fact that at least this time I'm locked in on the inside. For now.

My fingers still lingering absent-mindedly on the handle, I'm startled by a voice, drawing me to its attention.

"Breakfast will be served in the dining room."

Leaving the door, I follow after Severus, who it appears, has had a short amount of time to change his clothes, through a long passage way. At the end of it is large archway, leading to a room that is filled with the largest table I have ever seen –seating at least twelve chairs at any given time. It's huge.

I saunter over towards the only other seat that has been set –just a few places to the left of the dining table's head, where my godfather is looking at me with a schooled plain expression. "What would you like to eat?"

Sitting down, I stare at the small plate in front of me. It's a rich, cream-coloured ceramic piece that has gold lining along the rim. Beside is a glance full of what looks like orange juice. I can't help but feel grateful that it isn't like the same offending green cup I have up in the room I slept in.

A diminutive 'a-hem' breaks through my musings, forcing me to look up at Severus and tell him what I want.

"Uh, toast?"

He nods in a seemingly satisfied fashion, scraping his chair against the floor and walks over to where I'm seated. I stare blankly ahead not sure of what he wants me to do.

"Your plate." His tone grates against the silence, and it sounds like he is gritting his teeth in effort not to call me an imbecile or whatever.

I hand it to him, and listen to the tap of the soles of his feet against the floor die away. The dining room is surprisingly much tidier than the front room. The silver looks as if it's been polished, and even the chairs have had a wiped down. Severus must have cleaned it while I was still asleep.

The sound of plates meeting a wooden surface tells me that he's returned with our breakfast. Mine not only has several slices of buttered toast on it, but it is also filled with fluffy scrambled eggs and two fried tomatoes. I look across at Severus's plate and see that it has exactly the same amount of food as my own, if not more.

"Eat."

I make a face, and pick up a fork. After a small mouthful of eggs I put it back down and pick up a slice of toast instead, hoping the dry texture won't give rise to another upset stomach. Severus is already half-way through eating all of his own traditional continental breakfast.

"So," he begins to ask between spoonfuls –next to his plate I notice a bowl of oatmeal porridge covered in honey dribbles, "how did you sleep?"

_Was he actually being serious? He was there. He saw everything. He would know._

"Fine." I decide to lie. It isn't a complete fib. I mean, I eventually did fall asleep again –_without dreaming about anything, thankfully. _Severus arches an eyebrow in disbelief, but only allows me to see it for a few seconds before his face returns to its normal composure. "I don't believe you're telling me the truth, Mr. Malfoy."

Fantastic. He's using my surname again.

I nibble at the end of the piece of toast in my hand, and wait for him to continue. When it's clear that he's still waiting for me to say something, I open my mouth and let the first thing that comes into my head fly out. "Well, that's your opinion –isn't it master _Severus_?"

"Watch your mouth." A pause, "Remember this is my house –_my rules_. I won't have you speaking to me in that tone, mark my words young man."

I've stopped pretending to eat, and am now just tearing away at the crusts of each slice of toast –making a stack of toast French-fries. "Please can we not talk about this?"

My godfather seemingly takes the hint, and looks back down at his almost empty plate before returning his gaze to mine. "You've hardly touched your food, child." He finally spits out.

"I'm not hungry." I reply in quick response. Severus sighs, pushing his plate away from himself and folds his arms across his chest. "When was the last time you ate –_something decent_?"

I pause, pulling my arms into my lap and mumble the words 'I don't know'.

The tone in his voice reaches an edgy border, "You don't know?" I shrug my shoulders, hoping he'll just leave it alone. He does, but moves onto something that I really don't want to talk about.

"Your dream last night..." he begins.

My stomach drops, and I bow my head. "No."

Severus is taken aback, "Sorry?"

I lift my gaze to meet his, gritting my teeth. "I said, _no_. We're not discussing _that_. Not now. Not ever."

My godfather gives me an expression both filled with confusion, and sheer determination. "I think we _do_ have to talk about last night, _actually_." Severus pauses, and points towards another door leading away from the dining room. "Since you're obviously not going to eat much more than you already so dismally have, we can depart and speak in the living room if you so wish."

I whip my head around, and look back down at the table cloth I've started to twist in my hands.

"Please... No, I- I don't want to- to go in there."

Severus clasps his hands together, "Fine, we'll stay here then." I pull a hand through my hair, and stare down it when I realise I'm shaking.

"What happened in your dream?"

I clench my still shaking hands into fists and look up at him defiantly, taking a deep breath, "For the last time, I don't want to talk about it, okay?" I end in a slightly desperate, yet hopeful finish.

"I don't really think it's about what you want, but rather what you _need_." He replies, smirking.

An eerie laugh escapes my lips, "Need? Need? _I don't need this_." My tone is scathing. "Why are we even arguing about it? If I say I don't want to talk about it, then _I don't want to talk about_. Can't you get that through your thick skull?"

I crossed a line with that one, and Severus makes sure I know it.

"When have I ever tolerated such defiance? It seems that among other things, I'll have to teach you some manners Malfoy." I wave a hand at him, acting as if what he's saying doesn't bother me at all. "Believe me brat, when I say that such rudeness will not go unpunished. I think it's best if I send you back to your bed for now."

That angers me. "What? But- but I'm not even tired."

"Yes," Severus darts an irritated expression in my direction, "But it's very clear you still need some sleep. To calm that temper of yours and cool your loose tongue, if nothing else."

I bite down on my lip, but stop when I catch my godfather giving me a disapproving look. "Look, I'm not really that tired..." I try, but he doesn't buy it. Placing his hands down on the table in a business-like fashion, Severus speaks in a slow, eloquent voice.

"In reality, I believe your body is extremely exhausted, and a few hours of what you call 'undisrupted' sleep are not going to restore its reserves in a hurry. Now, when was the last time you had such a nightmare?"

My hands are threatening to pull the whole tablecloth off the table, so I relax my grip on the cerise material but don't completely let go of it, using the cloth as a nervous comfort. "Uh, Sunday? Yeah, I think it might have been Sunday."

Severus seems to be contemplating this.

"Today is Thursday, so four days ago... Was it the same one?"

I shake my head.

No. They were never that bad. _Never. _I didn't even really dream about... that night, after... after it happened...

"And how do you usually stave off the nightmares then? I presume you've been having this problem for quite a while now, am I correct?" Severus's expression appears puzzled, but I think he probably knows the answer to that too. When I don't answer either of the two simple questions, he ignores my behaviour and fills in the blanks quickly for himself.

"You don't sleep." He nods, noticing my eyes meeting his. "That's why you didn't look rested when I saw you meddling with the door in the front room this morning. Well anytime, for that matter." Severus chuckles, but it's a self-depreciative one.

"I should have realised sooner."

I'm curious. "Realised what?"

But he doesn't say anything.

"Can I leave?" I offer, after a few awkward moments of stilted silence.

Severus shakes his head, letting his dark hair fall into his face like some protective barrier, "No... We need to talk about last summer."

_Last summer?_

"How do you know-" I quickly stop myself. "There's nothing to be said." I finally whisper.

It's his turn to laugh darkly. "Really? Because watching my godson the whole night screaming in agony, shouting my name over and over again, and practically choking himself to death is my idea of _fun_." He mutters sarcastically, "And don't you dare try to tell me that there's nothing wrong with you... In fact, if you do, I just might be forced to pull you into my lap and give you a good hiding for your incessant half-truths and lies."

"I- uh... You see... I- It's..." I'm struggling to come up with an excuse. Any excuse. Something –_anything _that'll draw his attention away from what I've been struggling _on my own_ to hide for so long. Severus gives another sigh, collapsing his head into his hands so that his long fingers can reach up and massage his temples.

"The last time I had to take you in was so much easier –at least _then_ I was only dealing with broken bones. Not broken teenagers." Judging by the attempted hidden expression on his face, he knows that what he has just allowed to leave his lips isn't true anymore.

I hiss anyway, and he looks up at me, expecting to me to say something.

I don't disappoint my godfather. Not this time.

"Well, if it's such a problem for you to have me be here right now, then why don't you just take me back where I came from? To my mother's infernal house?" I shout, challenging him.

"Please, I don't have the energy to deal with this now." Severus is still rubbing at his temples, his eyes look tired. Not physically tired,_ granted he probably didn't get much sleep with me keeping him up half the night_, but rather just mentally. Unfortunately, that does nothing to stop me.

"So now I have to have respect for someone else's privacy? Why, when you couldn't even show me the same common decency and decorum." I spit.

"Manners." My godfather grumbles under his breath.

I push my chair away from the table, "No! Why couldn't you just have left me alone? I didn't ask for you to help me!"

Severus looks as if I had just punched him in the gut. The dismayed expression he lets fall over his face for a fleeting second does not escape my notice, I feel the slight guilt of what I have just said tingle up my arms.

"I promised." He says.

"Who? Who did you promise? My _mother_?" I'm starting to sound hysterical, and he doesn't give me an answer.

"I want to go back." I mutter quietly, not wanting to risk the chance that he might have heard what I had just said.

It's just not my day.

He heard me.

"So you can go back to sitting alone in that, _what you might call a room_, of yours –digging yourself into an even bigger self-destructive hole?" He yells, clearly getting angry and annoyed.

My face pales, "I'm- I'm not- not- self... Self-destructive!" I furiously rub at my eyes with the heels of my hands, as tears are starting to fall down my cheeks. _I'm not a baby._

'_Yeah sure, just a sixteen-year old weakling that needs a Sippy-cup' m_y mind chastises me.

Shut up.

"You don't sleep –_with the exception of yesterday_," Severus interrupts, and begins to list things on his hands in a furious fashion, "you don't eat... Your room was extremely filthy when I arrived, and exactly when was the last time you actually bothered to wash yourself, let alone open a textbook and do some homework for once in your life?"

Regaining the colour in my cheeks, I shout back, "Wh- what? That's not fair! I showered yesterday!"

Severus smirks again, "And before that?"

I shut my mouth.

"I didn't think so." There's a hint of, what I hope is _unintentional_, smugness in his voice.

Ignoring him, I pull my feet up onto the dining room chair and sit in a defensive stance upon the indigo-coloured cushion , leaning against the back of it –ready to flee, given half the chance.

"Something happened to you, and I'm intending to find out what it is no matter what it takes." Severus takes a deep breath before speaking as calmly as his current mood will allow, "Did someone or something hurt you recently, Draco?"

_Why did the man have to say my name?_

I blanch completely; hearing the scraping of a chair against the floor I assume my godfather is making his way over to where I'm seated. I shudder uncomfortably. When his fingertips gently touch my shoulder, I flinch –losing my balance, which makes me crash to the ground in a broken heap. I don't think about the pain, I just want to get out of there. Fast.

I don't know what I wanted from him this morning when I had woke, but it isn't this. It was never this.

"Dra- Draco?" It doesn't sound like Severus. The voice is too upset to sound anything remotely like him. For a split second I wonder if the mysterious person from the night before is back again. Eventually I get over the shock of falling, and pull myself unsteadily to my feet, not caring that my whole face is now covered in salty tears. Swallowing my pride, I turn around.

And run.

* * *

**A/N: **Okay, a quick question before I make my comments about the chapter. I'm sure all of you are well aware that this story is written from Draco's perspective... But, would you like a chapter written from Severus's POV (point of view)? Or maybe Draco finds a letter or some notes about himself written in his godfather's hand writing like a psychiatrist's note or something? Yeah?

Anyway, this was an intense chapter... I don't think I've ever written so much dialogue in my life. I hope it was 'angsty' enough to be considered as a proper argument between the pair of them. If you have any more comments about what you think Draco and Severus should have argued about then please feel free to suggest them to me. And don't worry about the need for the Sippy-cup, it will undoubtedly be explained in future chapters. Severus will ask about Draco's nose later in the day. I think we can save that for another little argument... huh?

Did you know plates can be glass, ceramic or porcelain?

**Review**! I don't mind what you have to say as long as it's constructive. Next chapter will probably be up within the week, or the month. I'm in my final year of high school –so please forgive me if I don't update as fast as you would like.


	7. Leave Me Be

**Disclaimer: **I do not own any of the Harry Potter characters.

**A/N: **A tortured boy's objectivity/judgement can sometimes be distorted.

* * *

"_**Now as the rain falls like shattered pieces of glass from the sky,  
we bleed like water colours and drunken pastels down the stairways.  
And I ask myself, why do I still pray?  
When will it end? And who fucking cares?"**_

**-Pierce The Veil_The Boy Who Could Fly**

* * *

**Chapter 7**: Leave Me Be

_Did someone or something hurt you recently, Draco?_

He could have been referring to anything. A nasty word passed in the corridor, my injured nose –a recent scuffle in a parking lot _even_, but no... It was the way that Severus had said the word 'someone' that told me he knew. He knew that I was filthy –_soiled. _That horrified expression I saw on his unmasked face in the short moment I had managed to stagger to my feet in the dining room, said it all.

I was dirty.

Stumbling blindly through the long, darkened passage way I make my way to the front room, and only just –by the use of a hand trailing against the roughly painted wall. Unfortunately when there is nothing more for me to grapple on I find myself hastily trying to cross the room with uncoordinated movements, using the stairs as a focus point.

As I reach the spiralling staircase –my bare foot about to climb the first cold step, someone grabs my waist from behind, drawing me into a tight embrace. My body shakes violently against their own, more solid, form.

"Let go of me!" I yell, struggling nervously to wriggle myself out of there death-like grip.

"Not until you have calmed yourself down." A cool voice whispers slowly into my ear.

"I am calm!" I scream even louder, stabbing my godfather in the ribs with my bony elbows. He gives a small groan of discomfort, but even that doesn't get him to release me from his hold. If anything, Severus's arms only tighten around my small hips, preventing them from jerking out of his rigid grip no matter how hard I struggle.

"Stop it Draco." He breathes down my neck.

"Stop wh- what?" I stammer –more quietly this time, waves of apprehension washing all over my body, forcing me to be still. I try to turn my head in an attempt to look at Severus _somewhat_ in the face; I don't like the feeling of him being so close to me while my defences are down. _While I'm so hopelessly weak._ I can't stand it.

"This," Severus voice is uncertain, breaking through my internal rumblings "whatever this is, it has to come to an end. You can't keep running away fr-' his voice falters for a second so tiny, so _miniscule_, that I'm not even sure it happened. Quickly regaining his composure again Severus continues, "From me forever. Sooner or later you'll have to talk about it, and for your sake you'd better hope it's very shortly –because I won't entertain any such errant behaviour for much longer." He finishes off forcefully, leaving a rather sour taste in my mouth.

"I- you- you can't make me!" I shout again, now a little infuriated by his blatant referral to the whole thing as if it were all just some stupid mathematic equation that required a little thinking and discipline to solve the problem. It just wasn't that simple. He would never understand.

There's an unexpected pause, and then the distinct low undertones of the words 'you assume too much child' can be heard, accompanied by a sad smirk. I lower my head; my lips pressed to a thin white line –that unpretentious simple sentence shutting me right up.

Severus finally does free my waist –but not before grasping both of my wrists in his large, pale hands, and tugging me slightly towards the group of assorted furniture pieces arranged haphazardly around the fireplace in the front room.

My godfather picks the couch nearest to the fire –a pale burgundy colour, and seats me firmly beside him –his eyes never leaving my pathetic, hunched up form. Severus reaches into the pocket of his trousers and pulls out something small.

"Here." He whispers.

I look up to see what he's holding in his hand. It's a white handkerchief.

When I don't move to take it, he gives a short huff of breath, "It's for your face. Take the blasted thing, and wipe up your mess."

I sulkily reach for it, wiping away the tears that have all but soaked the front of my navy blue shirt. Pulling the handkerchief away from my face, I peer down to notice that a good part of it is covered in blood. Scrunching the cloth in my hands, I subconsciously touch the bottom of my lip.

My fingertips feel wet and sticky.

Severus takes my arm, pulling it away from my mouth. "That's a terrible habit you've adopted, and you'll do well to stop gnawing on your lips every time you're in an undesirable situation. It's an easy tell to whether you're nervous, or for the most part –_upset_."

I nod my head, my eyes darting nervously from my godfather's unyielding hand around my arm, and the staircase that looks so very far away. He sighs longingly as he watches me do this. I think he assumes that I'm not going to say anything more without an effective prompt, so he opens his mouth slowly again, attempting to try a different tact this time I suppose. I beat him to it, yanking my arm out of his hold and clutching it to my chest, hoping where Severus's fingers were curled around it won't bruise.

"Do- do you honestly think," I begun to ask in a shaky, yet by every rights –_a defensive_ voice, "that we can just solve everything out here by si- sitting in this front room and-"

"It's a _sitting_ roo-" Severus starts to correct me, but I interrupt, my shoulders trembling, "I don't care what type of room it's supposed to be, whatever. I mean -the point is... Seriously. Why- why can't you just leave it alone?" I don't think I'm making much sense. Not in the last half an hour.

"Leave what alone?" He gives me a calculated look, pronouncing each syllable as if his life depends on it.

'_Every sodding thing you've been pestering me about_' I want to scream.

"What?" my brow pinches in confusion instead, "You know..." I swallow thickly, "I thought- you saw-" Taking a short breath, "Just for- forget it." I pull into myself. It was all just a ploy. Severus knows. Severus knows, and he's just trying to trap me into telling him with my own words. I bite down on my tongue, waiting for Severus's lecture about 'hiding things' and 'not speaking' to undoubtedly continue.

I'm not disappointed.

As anticipated the slow drawl of his words begin to pour forth from his lips once more, but I don't hear them. They seem to be flowing right over me, evening my breath out however desperate they might sound. Eventually, after five minutes he notices my glazed over eyes, and stops. The expression on Severus face isn't very pleasant in reaction to my obvious lack of attention.

"_Are you even listening to me?_" His tone is more than livid.

I cringe, mumbling the word 'no' into my knees that I had taken to drawing up onto the old couch to hide my face. Irritated, my godfather tries to get me to look back at him. When that doesn't work, the weight of the cushion beneath us shifts, and I realise that he's moved. Seconds later, my legs are pushed down against my own will, my naked feet touching the flagstone floor. Severus –body level lowered to the point that he is seated awkwardly on his hind legs in front of me, stares into my grey eyes.

"What is the matter Malfoy?"

I don't respond.

"Draco?" He asks again, his voice holding a little more hesitation than normal, but still determined.

"Don't..." I murmur, glancing towards the stairs –suddenly very drained, and _cold_. The hairs on my arms prickle in an upwards direction.

Severus moves a few inches closer to where I'm seated before him. I recoil backwards into the padding of the furniture; my godfather's face a little too close to mine for my liking. Taking his own deep breath, he shakes his head.

"Don't what? What mustn't I do _Draco_?"

Something in the back of my head whispered to me that it's just another trick –another plot to get me to spill the metaphorically beans if you will, but that part is unknowingly outvoted when I find myself answering him in a weak voice.

"Don't say it, please don't say my name."

"Why-"

"Just don't- don't say the foul thing! Pl- please-" I can't look him in the eyes now. It's too difficult when tears are beginning to brim the surface. I pull my hands up to my temples, hoping to stave away an oncoming headache. I was fine before... before that _specific_nightmare. I was okay. I could handle it. Sort of. But now...

"Draco, your-"

"Stop it!" My fingers tense, now scratching at my skin. "Just stop! Why can't you listen to me for once?" Severus's form is beginning to waver in front of me as the tears travel down my cheeks unchecked. I make to stand up, my legs shaking a little. He does the same.

Two hands seize the shoulders of my long-sleeved shirt, "Child, I-"

"No!" I cry, catching Severus off guard as I wrench my body free of his tight grip. Taking a few steps away from him I knock into an armchair causing me to fall over it backwards. I hit my head on the floor, but that doesn't deter me from quickly scrambling to my feet once again.

Numerous blurry Severus's stalk over to where I'm standing, leaving enough space between me and them so that I won't feel threatened. They all talk at the same time, their voices reverberating in my ears.

"I need to examine your head –you _fell _child." The group of them hastily add when I look confused.

"But, I'm f- fine!"

Their voices grate in frustration. "You are_ not_ fine. Far from it in fact by my observations. If anything, you'll cease using that wretched word in correlation with your current state of health."

"Leave me alone. All of you." I whimper, folding my arms around me, ignoring the jab at my general wellbeing.

"All of us?" Several eyebrows arch up in mock amusement. "A fitting indication of just how _well_ you are." Slowly the Severus' merge together to form one single, albeit snarky, man adorned in black.

"It doesn't matter."

He cocks he head to the side, "What doesn't matter?" he asks curiously.

"Anything."

"That's a poor perception of the world-" he begins, another lecture –no doubt- on the tip of his pink tongue.

"It doesn't make a difference," with some measure of courage I step forward, meeting Severus's gaze, "Nothing does. How can it? How can anything ever be normal again? How can _I _be normal again after _he_-"

My eyes widen in fear of what I've just said –what I've just allowed to let slip from my mouth. Focusing on my godfather, I realise he's still staring back at me, opened mouthed and abnormally pale. _I mean, even paler than he normally is_. I shut my eyes quickly, yearning for it to all just go away. When he hasn't moved, and the ground hasn't mercifully opened up to swallow me whole, I gulp down the misery stuck in my throat and open my grey eyes again. Turning towards the staircase, I hope I'll be able to get up the stairs, two at a time if it'll put some distance between me and Severus any faster.

Staggering into my room I slam the door shut behind me with the back of my hand, and tremble slightly when the sound it makes as it slaps into the doorframe is a little louder than I had anticipated. When the tremulous feeling doesn't dissipate, but only intensifies I find myself on my knees –my stomach twisting into repulsive knots, until soft moans are awful retching sounds emerging from my throat instead.

When the sickening sensation of dry heaves passes, I stare around the room through blurry-eyed vision from my uncomfortable position on the floor –my eyes settling on the plastic Sippy-cup. Half crawling to the night stand I pick the horrible thing up and, with all the energy that can muster, I throw it valiantly across the room.

The resounding crack it makes as it bounces of the wall and crashes to the floor, gives me a small amount of satisfaction. But the smile on my lips soon falters when the bedroom begins to fill with the same deafening silence again, leaving nought but my frustrated sobs and the disgusted look on Severus' face.

* * *

**A/N: **Young Mr. Malfoy is far from recovery and sorting his _many_ issues out, so good luck to you Sir Severus Snape! It seems that even an attempt at quiet conversation has evaded you in dealing with your godson.

An enormous thank you to my editor '**meeka-eela**'for, obviously, editing this chapter and all future chapters that encompass this story. She's really a mind-blowing writer, so you should really, and I mean really, go and check out her marvellous work. Over the past three weeks I've stared at it countless times so it was great to final get someone else who has so much written talent to look at it before I uploaded it. On that note my sincere apologies for not updating sooner -juggling school, art, youth, prefectship and extra classes has been a bit of a nightmare to say the least.

**Review**! I really don't mind what you have to say as long as it's constructive. Next chapter will probably be up within the week, or the next couple of months. I'm writing my prelims soon, so things might get a little out of hand. I'll certainly use free time to work on this fanfiction piece, but if I don't update as fast as you would like please just have patience and bear with me. Thanks.


	8. A Change in Perception

**Disclaimer: **I do not own any of the Harry Potter characters.

**A/N: **From Snape's point of view (POV).

**Warnings: **Memories

* * *

"_**Digging a hole that [you] can't get out of  
Deeper and deeper  
Below the surface  
To find that there's nothing there  
Where do I go from here?  
Give me something that I can feel!  
Back and forth here we go again  
What will it take to keep it together?"**_

**-Memphis May Fire_The Sinner**

* * *

**Chapter 8**: A Change in Perception

Staring after Draco, I watched numbly as, what little colour he had left in his cheeks from screaming at me, had drained away, and he nearly chocked, before turning towards the staircase –running up the old stairs as if something devilish was following him. And perhaps something of the kind was.

"_It doesn't make a difference," _Draco's small voice echoed in my ears, _"Nothing does. How can it? How can anything ever be normal again? How can I be normal again after he-"_

After he what, Draco? What did this person do to you poor child?

I pinched the bridge of my nose, having a few ideas –each more unpleasant and awful to contemplate than the previous. Taking in a ragged breath, I tried to stabilize myself as the sensation of everything falling out from underneath me began to wash over my body. Opening tired eyes, not certain to when I had actually closed them, I searched for somewhere to sit down before my legs all but buckled beneath me.

_I gently nudged the apartment's guest room door open, deciding to check up on Draco after his most recent attempt to end his life. His face was coupled with pain, an aguish that surpassed the physical. Upon noticing that someone else was indeed in the room with him, however, the innocence of a fifteen year old returned to Draco's face, looking at me with glossed over eyes._

"_Draco?" A small, feral gleam blazed for a fraction of a second in the boy's eyes, before they returned to the same dull, stormy-grey. The rapid change was nothing short of disturbing._

"_Are you ready to tell me why you 'fell' from the second floor of your house? What were you-"_

_The inquisition is left for the time being when Draco suddenly makes a rash movement, using his unharmed arm to clutch at his broken leg. The pained expression has returned to his face again –this time purely physical. I sigh, turning to leave the boy for now. Painkillers were issued but not a quarter of an hour ago; unfortunately it'll be some time before they start to work, deadening the _bodily_ ache that's probably been screaming up his limbs for a while._

My fingernails dig into the armrest of my mother's favoured oversized armchair, another memory rushing towards the forefront of my mind.

"_You'll be returning to school the following week Draco," I pause, putting down the afternoon newspaper I had been reading for the last twenty minutes –curious as to see what my godson's reaction will be, having spent the last three and a half months painfully withdrawn, and mostly in silence. Peculiarly, the first flash of emotion is one of dread, and oddly –fear, replaced shortly by a resigned look of acceptance._

"_Your leg seems to have healed up rather nicely; another few weeks with the crutch and your walking ability should return to normal. However, your arm on the other hand seems to have been hurt rather badly, so I want you to keep it bandaged up and dry for the most part of the upcoming month. Is that understood?"_

_Draco gives a small nod in my direction, pushing his plate of half eaten food away from him, to gaze down at his fidgeting fingers below the dining table. The nervous behaviour a little too disconcerting._

The area around my knuckles is strained, turning a harsh white with the expanse of several blue veins running through them. I suck in a harsh breath.

_Whimpers were emanating from the sitting room. Inside the darkened room, Draco lay on a divan, curled into a tight ball –his face nestled into the space between his knees. Save for his chapped, pale pink lips, the rest of him remained unmoving._

_A fool would mistake the scene as a common case of talking in one's sleep. However, upon closer inspection, soft, distressed moans of "No. Please, no... I'm sorry. Please don't. NO." could be heard from the slumbered form. Dreams and the pain of sleeping in such an infantile manner with still healing appendages be done for; rampant nightmares are running through the boy's mind, with a shattering sob breaking the muffled silence to prove it. "I- I'm so- sorry..." he hoarsely whispered._

_Waking the following morning, any notion that Draco had experienced a less than normal night is denied with downturned eyes and a lacklustre mumble of 'I don't remember'._

_I don't remember._

How many times had the boy muttered those words under my care? Pushed away food, claiming he wasn't hungry when it's abundantly clear he's starving to the point of being mere skin and bones? Spent countless nights crying himself to sleep, only to refute the fact that anything had happened out of the ordinary when questioned it? It was obvious that something had. Something more monumental than Draco could admit to. That they boy could bear to handle, alone. He's persistent in his resistance, I'll give him that. But now, after such a long time keeping it to himself, the defence is splintering at frayed edges, and he's breaking –if not falling apart altogether.

I swallow thickly, hoping that it hasn't come to that just yet. That I'll be able to rescue the boy before he's fallen into the darkness of his mind, where no one, let alone _I_, can reach him.

* * *

**A/N: **On the subject of the chapter's format –if you've just read this on your cellphone then, yes, it will seem like there are parts where the timeframe is different and it seems like Severus is remembering something from the past. You're right, these are his thoughts and on a computer they will appear rightly in italics. I don't know why reading on a cellphone emits the italics and keeps it in normal font. It's just weird. On the subject of content, writing this chapter proved a little more difficult than the nightmare in chapter five I struggled with, so I want your reviews and opinions on whether I pulled the chapter off properly. It was a challenge, and I like to think I held up my end of the stick. Does it sound like Snape? Is there any way I can make the chapter sound more 'Snapish'?

Severus is cottoning on my fantastic readers!

**Review**! I don't mind what you have to say as long as it's constructive. Next chapter will probably be up within the week, or the month. I'm in my final year of high school –so forgive me if I don't update as fast as you would like.


	9. Fall Away

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the Harry Potter characters.

**A/N:** Having an extended amount of time to review and edit previous chapters I have been able to add a few extra details to Chapters 1 through 8 –_obviously_ some chapters will have more details than others. Please go back and read through them before proceeding with this particular chapter. Thank you! Oh, and back to Draco's point of view (POV) in case you're not aware or confused.

Also a huge thank you to some special fanfictioners: '**meeka-eela**', '**Phoenixx Rising**', '**S from JST the Power of three**', and '**Rinney**' for sticking this depressing story out, always reviewing and giving me much needed, and appreciated feedback and advice. These are some super-incredible-wonderful-amazing people and _writers_... so when you're finished with this chapter you should totally** review**, and then go and check out their work! Seriously. Oh, and if you haven't already favourited 'meeka-eela', do so quickly and drop her a line –her laptop crashed last week and I'm not sure when it'll be fixed, so this chapter will remain unedited until further notice.

**Warnings:** Self-inflicted harm, a withdrawn Draco, a short flashback, righteous anger on Severus' part, and slightly 'out of character' Snape.

* * *

"_**Nervous and your tearing at the seams  
The lights are too bright and you've got cold feet  
You look the part and you're only**_** _[sixteen]_****  
****Can**_** [I] drag [you] up and show [you] what we're missing out on?"  
**_

**_-_You Me At Six_The Truth Is A Terrible Thing**

* * *

**Chapter 9**: Fall Away

Spotting the pale blue sheets, I wipe my wet face against the shoulder of my navy blue shirt, and grab them quickly off the wooden floor. Smearing my palm of sticky, dark red blood across the sheets, I let it drop to the ground in a sad heap, and slowly slump over towards the bed –forgetting about the pain just for a second. Eyes practically lidded with exhaustion, I barely register the fact as I crumple onto the soiled mattress. My small frame pulls, _automatically_, into the foetal position around a soft, white pillow –the edges clasped desperately in each hand.

I drifted, astray somewhere between the frantic clutches of panicked dreams, and terrifying, garbled thoughts. Nearing unconsciousness I didn't bother to raise my eyes to meet Severus' when the door to the bedroom quietly opened, and revealed the man in all his furious glory, and it's because of this that I did not notice the horrified expression he has adorned on his face on _my_ behalf.

There's a pause as my godfather nervously contemplates what to do, most likely having eventually pulled himself together, when small striding steps can be heard walking across the room, only to stumble and halt near the mattress I am resting on –blue sheets clutched tensely in one hand.

"Child," a muffled voice attempts to break through the bonds of my incoherent thought, "I need you to awaken so that we might peruse a bathroom, and finally rid you of last night's horrible mess."

I sense a strange undertone of something else to the request, nevertheless I open my eyes a fraction to discover that Severus' own are boring through my skull, almost anxiously waiting for me to make a hurried move off the bed. I slowly sit up, hastily throwing my legs over the side to stand. There's a muted gasp, but I ignore it in favour of trying to focus on the ground spiralling beneath us in a bewildered fashion.

A gentle hand curls its fingers around my small-framed torso, resting another on my shoulder to guide us to a bathroom of some sorts. I silently wince; hoping to swallow down the pain the action brings about when we actually start moving. A couple of paces down an unknown hall, Severus pulls his arm away from my waist to examine his hand –it's littered with smudges of blood. His already fine, pink lips draw into a surly, white frown.

At the end of the corridor, Severus roughly pushes an old door open to reveal an expansive bathroom suite, adorned with several large silver-footed bathtubs, three-headed showers and private toilet stalls. The waxen floors are cold to the touch for my bare feet. I hobble over towards a tall chair in a corner near a sink, collapsing bonelessly into it, so as to watch as Severus turns an emerald encrusted spigot, and water begins to fill one of the creamy bathtubs. Soon the entire bathroom is filled with hot, steamy air and I don't realise that my godfather has left his post and is now standing before me, fingers clutching the hem of my navy blue shirt. I stare up at him with confused eyes.

"It's time to undress –you've spent long enough in these ill-ridden clothes. I would have made an attempt to change your attire last night, had we both not been busy with other," there's a pause, "_things_..."

"I can take off my own clothes _without_ your help, thank you very much." I mumble, not really putting any heart into what I've just said. Severus waits, and when I don't make a move to undress, he lets out a short breath of frustrated air and begins to pull at the long-sleeved shirt I am wearing.

"Why was there a need for a Sippy-cup on the nightstand Snape? I am _not _a toddler."

He stops fidgeting with coarse black buttons which would make the shirt easier to lift over my head, and looks at me with the air of someone who is about to explain something that will no doubt be misinterpreted.

"You were struggling; no doubt you were eventually aware that we were both covered not only in your sick," his pallor turns a mild shade of green for a short moment, "but also copious amounts of another transparent liquid. I felt that to placate your belligerent nightmares, it would be better to comfort you with a cold glass of water after screaming yourself nearly hoarse. Unfortunately that proved difficult after three attempts, the Sippy-cup was the only option left, lest leave you to culminate a nasty throat infection. But this is all beside the point Draco-"

Meeting Severus' gaze, I follow his eyes drifting down towards my waist side.

'_Subconsciously my left hand starts to fidget with the hem of my long-sleeved shirt, slowly lifting it up and beginning to lightly trace several scars across my abdomen –stopping only when it comes to a particularly nasty one._

_It hasn't completely healed yet, and I know that if I apply just a little more pressure I will indefinitely be reminded of the cruel pain of a few days ago. My nimble hand presses sharply down on it anyway, grounding me with the merciless ache as each of my pale, skinny fingers skims over the pronounced letters in my mind's eye._

_I wince, conscious of what I have just done, as the scabby, raised skin gives way._

_Yeah, a freak.'_

"Care to explain this?" Severus barked, his sharp tone accompanied by the quick release of the fabric of my shirt and forelimbs. "On numerous occasions I have witnessed the fact that you have had this unnatural desire to want to end your life, how is it though that you have managed to have kept this blatant disregard for your apparent marred body?"

It seems Severus had gotten over his aversion of actually touching me because longs hands are currently making a rough attempt to pull the entire navy blue blouse off my thin form. I call out when he accidently knicks one of the slowly healing scabs, causing more dribbles of thick blood to ooze down my pale, concave stomach.

"Did _you_ do this child?" The endearing term is spat incautiously; my godfather's almost black eyes are burning with something akin to that of fire. "Answer me." He bellows when for the seventh minute I still haven't said a single word.

"No." I whisper quietly, the word barely leaving my quivering lips.

"Then?" A questionable eyebrow is raised, something that I would have, _normally_, secretly smiled at. But now I can see that Severus' demeanour is one of pure business. There will be no just brushing this off defensively this time around.

I cleared my throat, trying to begin anxiously, "Some nights I walk to the park, the one that's just a couple of blocks away-"

"Without your mother's permission or to anyone else's knowledge I presume?" Severus stands tall, arms crossed over his abdomen protectively, and brow furrowed in contemplative, brooding anger.

Gulping quickly, forcing the next words out of my small mouth. "I- well-" I sigh, "a group of older boys tried- tried..."

"Yes?" he says with a disbelieving scowl when I fail to continue.

"They- they did it. One of- of them had a penknife," I'm trying to breathe short gasps of air, "I was held while he- he-" I stop, not able to continue with the current line of thought.

"How long ago did this happen?"

"A couple of nights ago." I look up at Severus, the expression adorned on his face unreadable.

"And did you know these boys?"

I nod, hesitant to give a verbal answer.

Severus is lost in hasty thought for a few seconds, settling on a different course of action for the time being. "What about these nearly faded, purple scars on both of your skinny arms?" He meets my shifting eyes, "Are you going to lie to me and tell me that someone attacked you and did _this_ to you too?"

I have the decency to look cowered this time; my head lowered and hands palm upwards in a submissive manner.

The fairly large bathroom is left in silence, my godfather has his eyes cast away from me, a hand carding through his dark hair in frustration, and I remain in my seat on the cherry wood chair, slightly shivering now that I'm not wearing anything to cover my not-so-bare chest. Something wet dribbles down my face, landing with a small –_but audible_- splash on the tiles. Both of our eyes dart to the white floor, a splatter of red ruining the simple pattern.

"Ah," Severus' mouth opens a little as he gently pushes my head back to examine my nose –all previous anger and fury seemingly dissipated, "I had wandered when this would be causing you more trouble."

Grabbing a white cloth, he dabs the flannel against my skin to soak up the blood, "Nothing much more that we can do but wait for it to stop I'm afraid." He lets out a short huff of irritated air before continuing, "I really don't understand how you get yourself into such a mess all the time, Draco. What is it about you that makes people want to hurt you, _including_ yourself?"

I grumble, turning my head away as much as I can with it being in such a restrictive hold.

"And this name business, what on earth would you prefer me to call you, since you've clearly developed a distaste to your namesake." Somehow I sense a little sarcasm in the comment; I scowl, letting him know I picked up on it.

Severus clears his throat, "Seriously... What am I supposed to do with you, Draco?"

Pulling my cold feet onto the cherry wood chair with me, I hug my knees closely towards my chest. "Theodore." I whisper, afraid of the daunting name as it leaves my chapped lips.

"Sorry?"

I gulp nervously again, trying to stave off pathetic tears, "Theodore. He just... he w- wouldn't stop. He-he kept on saying it over and over again, while- while," a hitch formed in my throat preventing me from saying much more.

If it were even possible Severus may have blanched to an even paler hue, by some means he managed to choke out the words 'from two days ago'. Which in turn I promptly shook my head at, and watched as his face seemed to crumple for all of a millisecond before taking on its same stringent, expressionless demeanour.

He knows.

* * *

**A/N: BREAK THROUGH**! Oh my goodness, Severus had a tiny break through with Draco. "About bloody time mate..." Ah, I think Ronald Weasley might have said that line to Harry Potter once, in one of the movies or books. Final exams are finished! I'm reading fanfiction after a three month waiting period. **Any awesome recommendations you have for me?** I don't care about the fandom, as long as it's well written. I hope you're all happy with this chapter, since Draco's finally admitted to some stuff –just a little, and it's not much, but hey, it's still something, isn't it?

I also quite liked the interlude with Severus' point of view (POV) in the previous chapter, and I was thinking about making it a regular thing, like every couple of chapters or something. **Opinion**? It's just a different insight into the story, aside from Draco's depressing monologue. By the way, did you get the 'freak' reference? If not, well... whatever. It just felt right to stop here –in the next chapter I **promise** that we'll see Severus being a comforting godfather to his damaged enigma of a godson. But I'm still nervous about it... I hope I'll pull it off properly and to your great, desired expectations.

On the subject of the chapter's format **again** –if you've just read this on your cellphone then, yes, it will seem like there is a part where the timeframe is different and it seems like Draco is remembering something from the past –it is basically a flashback of him remembering what he had done moments before Severus stepped into the room to get him washed up. On the computer they will appear rightly in italics. I don't know why reading on a cellphone emits the italics and keeps it in normal font.

**Review**! I don't mind what you have to say as long as it's constructive. Next chapter will probably be up within the week, or the month. I went away with a couple of friends last week to stay in a guest house type thing, from the 30th of November to the 6th of December because we're finished high school! Finished freaking high school! It was one awesome fricking week, so I apologise for not updating sooner. We were really busy **goofing** off, cooking our own food, ripping off badly made movies, talking about random stuff, etc...


	10. Hope for the Best

**Disclaimer: **I do not own any of the Harry Potter characters.

**A/N: **As promised on my profile page, here's Chapter 10 of 'No Longer Your Son'. This probably wasn't the story you expected to be updated, and it's a little longer than normal. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy it, **review** and have a blessed Christmas readers! This will remain unedited until my beta actually tells me her when she'll be getting her internet back. Oh, and as you will no doubt find, in this fanfiction piece the Malfoys do not, by any means, come from an expansive wealth of money.

**Warnings: **Allusion to apparent sexual abuse, and child-on-child abuse.

* * *

"_**I've been put down for way too long,  
You'll never be good enough.  
All they told me was just give up,  
You'll never be good enough"**_

**-Of Mice & Men_The Depths**

* * *

**Chapter 10**: Hope for the Best, But Prepare for the Worst

To my utter relief, instead of returning to the same untidy room, or worse yet the '_sitting room_' as my godfather so avidly liked to put it, I was lead by the forearm along another part of the foreign, barren manner to another considerably grander bedroom.

Seated to the right of a door, was a four-post bed that surpassed anything I ever had the pleasure to sleep in. Swaddling the mattress were substantial sheets, and satin-like duvets, coupled with what I presume are goose-feathered pillows. Opposed from the magnificent sight was a small, cosy fire-place just like that one below –though this time only two _matching_ armchair surrounded the bricked structure.

By Severus gentle push of my lower back into the marvellous bedroom, and a sideways glance I somehow knew this is where I would be staying for the evening, if not the rest of my stay with the forever cloaked man.

Standing slightly nervously in the centre of the carpeted floor, I watched as he slowly closed the door, and strolled over to the seats before the lit fireplace. Surmising that this room had already previously been prepared I crossed my forelimbs, and waited for him to make the next move.

Watching the flames lick the vaguely damp logs in the forced silence I admired how even though it was supposed to be the middle of summer, Severus' manor felt so... cold. Making the sudden realisation, I wrapped my arms even tighter around my waist, slightly disappointed that my godfather hadn't allowed me to keep the same navy long-sleeved shirt as before. I hated the pale grey thing I was wearing now. It being tight, clings to my bandaged abdomen and proving Severus' theory that I am well below the average weight of a healthy sixteen year old boy on the cusp of turning a year older.

"Have a seat." He finally broke the peace, and indicated the softly covered armchair to his left with an outstretched hand. Seeing that I was a little reluctant to join his company, Severus' face twitched a little, revealing a slight lift to the side of his mouth, his lips curving into a strained smile.

White-blonde brows creasing in confusion, I followed his eyed path at sat beside him, not prepared for the thick velvety blanket he would seemingly have pulled out of nowhere.

"I don't want that." I whispered.

Severus' own eyebrows shot up in pseudo-surprise, daring me to deny him once again. "As I recall," he drawled, "It was not I whose extremities were still a most unnatural shade of blue when we departed from the bathroom. Hence, you need to keep warm young one."

Sniffling, I accepted the comfort, feeling a tad uncomfortable when he proceeds to tuck me in. I stared in horror as his hands lingered by my cheeks, moving slowly to gently brush my overly long hair out of my face, not being used to this kind of loving touch. Sensing my uneasy discomfort, Severus pulled his arm away, sat down gracefully in his own chair, before turning to a small mahogany table before our seated bodies.

Not opening his mouth to actually ask me if I would like anything, my godfather began to pour a strong cup of tea both for himself and for me –adding plenty of freshly baked shortbread pieces to the point that they were spilling over the edges of the petite little plate.

Placing the saucer into my cupped hands, he licked his lips, adding: "While I normally do not condone such sugary confections, you barely ate enough equivalent to that of sustaining a three-year old this morning. Please see that you finish everything that I have given you."

Turning to his own empty plate, it was evident in Severus' usually stringent composure that he was internally battling whether he too should follow suit and spoil his dinner with something so sweet. Deciding that it was only to show by example and encourage me to eat something, he picked up a single shortbread piece with calloused fingers and placed it lightly on his pink tongue.

When an uncoordinated shiver coursed roughly through my body once more, he eyed me with dark features, letting a single word slip past his now crumbed lips for the second time today.

"Eat."

Satisfied when I began nibbling on the edge of one of the sugared biscuits, my godfather let the subject of my eating habits lay to rest for the time being, moving on to –_according to him_- more pressing matters.

"I understand the difficulty you must and will have trying to hide those repulsive scars, not only on your abdomen, but also the fair few that seemed to envelop your scrawny arms." With a hasty sigh, Severus meets my gaze, "I'm afraid that the wounds are beyond even my medical attention and knowledge. Unfortunately, you'll be left with them, especially," I'm surprised when he chokes down a breath, "Theodore's nasty work."

I don't say anything, and for once am glad that I have the azure coloured blanket to cover my disgusting body, if it is to serve no other purpose. Whether he realises it or not, Severus' words do not lend kindly to the situation at hand.

Realising the impression he may have left on me after what he has just said, my godfather abandons his half-full tea-cup, reaching over to give a bony knee a reassuring squeeze.

"I apologize for my brash manner, but sadly, a matter as serious as the one you face cannot be dealt with such gloved hands and soft spoken words. I need you to answer my questions with straight-forward, honest replies. I expect no less from my own godson."

Nodding, I bite down on my chapped lips even though Severus had already berated me already once today for doing the very same thing.

"I need to ask you," he is hard-pressed to call me Draco, but decides to leave the name for fear of my retort to his upcoming question. "Did Theodore, and-" Severus faltered, "and his friends ever... Ever _hurt_ you?"

Being the eternally observant man that he was, he didn't for a moment miss the response I elicited, my whole body stiffening and stormy eyes wide in response, not sure as to what exactly he was alluding to.

"No- no-" came my voice in a stifled cry.

"Do not lie to me." My godfather growled, his pearly white teeth caught up in a characteristic snarl as he surveyed the shaking teacup in my small hands.

"No his friends never- Theodore never tou- touched me! Not- not in tha- that way!" I screamed, tears now at the forefront, threatening to trickle profusely down my flushed cheeks. Severus tried again to give my leg a somewhat comforting pinch not quite expecting it when I quickly smacked his long fingers away, causing the half-drunken tea and uneaten shortbread to fall ceremoniously to the ground.

Aware of the inner conflict and distraught appearance of my face, he made to stand, reaching over elegantly to envelop my wracking sobs in a tightened embrace. I tried my best with hard kicking limbs to get him to cease such aberrant Snape-like behaviour, but he wouldn't let up –letting me grow tired and weak in his strong arms, as he whispered soothing sweet nothings into my ears.

"Alright now child?" my godfather peered down at me as he seated me back into the overstuffed armchair, making sure to tuck me straight back in as he had earlier. I welcomed the warm heat, still feeling the icy shivers that had caused my entire skeleton-length to quake not a moment ago. My eyes darted to the sticky mess my teacup had made on the floor, Severus dismissed this with a wave of his hand, drawing his attention back to his blonde-headed godson.

"If you say that they never touched you 'in that way' as you put it, then why in all circles of this abode did you admit to being assaulted by Theodore and his gang, with their crude weapon of choice?" Severus arches an intriguing eyebrow, his composure, however, remains slightly softened.

Averting his gaze, I whisper that it's normal school bullying –nothing that I can't handle.

"Care to elaborate Mr. Malfoy?" Severus emits a low tone of voice; his suspicion does not escape my notice as with the use of my loathed surname. The supposed _family name_ that only serves to remind me of my absent father.

"Just," I sigh, "you know... Being pressed up sharply against steel locker doors... Having my face pounded in regularly –_the usual_."

My godfather nodded, not interrupting, indication that I should go on.

Blushing, I opened my mouth stuttering my way through what I was about to say, "There's also occasions where Vic- Victor grabs me unaware around the wai- waist before classes, dragging me rou- roughly into the nearest boys' bath- bathroom on- only for him to give me a swir- swirly, and several well aimed kicks to the ri- ribs."

This time he can't contain himself, "Swirly?"

"Oh, you don't know?" my face flushes an even deeper shade of red before I let out a lamely covered yawn, "It's- it's when someone forces your head unwillingly down a toilet bowl, flushing it while you're- you're still in there. Yeah, along with a number of punches to the gut if the attacker, or attackers, are feeling particularly generous." I manage to finish with a half-attempt at a sneer.

"Barbaric." Severus makes his distaste of the activity known. "Although I certainly believe that most adolescents need to pull through their own scrapes and fights to learn a bit of skilled independence, did you do nothing to put an end to such vile behaviour?"

My godfather has the courtesy to appear repentant when I suddenly blurt out: "How dare you accuse me of not doing anything! How dare you assume I haven't already tried –countless times! Dammit, I tried so hard." The furious air leaving my chest in angry waves, I slowly breathe out the next few words, "I got down on my knees –_my knees_- begging and pleading with the school principal to please do something about my tormentors. Do you know what he said to me?" Irate tears trickled down my face, staining the azure blanket below. I made no move to acknowledge them.

The robed man shook his head, dark obsidian eyes to some extent widened with my abrupt outburst.

"He said," my voice trembled with resentment, "that it was not school policy to get involved with student affairs regarding violence and harassment –that it was something that rather concerned the allotted district counsellor, and if deemed serious enough, the police."

A melancholic sigh pushed past my lips, "I went on to inform him that the bullying was happening during school hours, on campus, but he just continued to deny that he had any allegation against the occurrences –even with my bloodied face staring him in his forsaken, soulless eyes. After a while when even the kindest of the staff turned their own blind eyes, I learnt not to care –that it didn't matter anymore. None of it mattered anymore."

My eyes filtered over to my godfather's appearance. His black attire seemed strangely ruffled and out of place, his face ashen and sickly looking.

"So yes, _Severus_," I bit out his name, "I did try to put an end to 'such vile behaviour'. Too bad adults don't actually give a fu-"

"Don't finish that sentence, or I guarantee that I will drag you to the nearest washroom, regardless of your bandaged body, and scrub your mouth out with soap." He whispers, seemingly drained. Because he has yet to move out of his infrequent slumped over position –_the tell where you can almost always correctly assume that he's thinking very hard about something important_- I know this exhausting conversation is not quite over, lest it be resumed at a later stage. Knowing my godfather, no doubt it will be.

"Did anything ever occur outside of your school's non-existent jurisdiction," he began, wording his question very carefully, "that would warrant the attention of law enforcement? Something that you'd care to let me to know." He asked in a question-like manner.

"No- I- what- what do you mean?" my voice virtually stricken with renewed panic.

"These boys', if you could call them that, pay specific attention to you," Severus cleared his throat, "It would stand to reason that they would hardly leave you alone while away from the assumed 'safety'," his tongue curled distastefully around the word that was supposed to be a haven, "of the school there would be more opportunities to attack. Taking your little venture to the park a few nights ago into consideration –no adults were in the vicinity, am I correct?"

I shake my head in the affirmative, wondering nervously about where exactly this particular discussion is headed.

"So, are there any other distinct places that you find yourself in the presence of unwelcome company – a little revere that you expect no one to assault you? A graveyard perhaps?" he continued.

_A graveyard!_

_How does he know?_

A lump sprang up into my throat, threatening to cut off my oxygen supply. I could hardly breathe let alone focus on his words, for which I was somewhat grateful. Pulling at my throat, it emitted its own strangled wails, alerting my godfather to my predicament, for which he promptly poured a glass of lukewarm water, and gently massaged it down my oesophagus.

"Please," I gasped, almost clawing at the air, "please can we- we not talk about this right- right now. I need- I need..." I fumbled, trying to come up with suitable words to explain my current distress at the topic at hand.

Severus saved me the effort, raking a hand through his greasy black hair and exhaling a defeated sigh. "I can see that this is causing you physical anguish, and no doubt you'll need time to properly rest and collect yourself after this morning's sudden disclosure and activities. I'll be back up here by lunch hour to check up on you Draco," a slip of the tongue, "You may stay here in front of the warmth of the fireplace, or make your way over to your new bed. Please refrain from soiling it if you can, the door to right opens in to an on-suite bathroom. I'll be down the hallway if you so should seek me, do not hesitate to find me if you feel ill.

I watched as he stood up to leave, a dour, saddened appearance taking over his composure.

* * *

**A/N: **So tell me... What did you get for Christmas? What's your favourite part/present, and why? If you're interested to know, my mother bought me a professional camera to use, as I am studying Fine Arts next year and am required to take my own original photographs! I wasn't actually supposed to get anything at all this year, as I'm banking on getting accepted to the university in the Cape. I'll be spending a whole week with my mother down there before semester starts, and basically it'll be like having a second Christmas because there's no point in carting all that stuff onto an aeroplane from where I'm staying.

**Review**! Give me your opinions on this chapter. I don't mind what you have to say as long as it's constructive. Next chapter will probably be up within the week or two. Severus is so close to getting Draco to admit that he was raped. _Raped_ I say? Yeah, go read Chapter 5: Dreams Can Be Real Too again –the signs are all there encase you missed them. Mr. Snape is a shrewd man if nothing else, and is determined to crack through Draco's carefully erected defences. And if you're wondering, the issue about Draco's father has not been forgotten. It plays an important role in this story and will be discussed profusely as Severus uncovers the black mess that is his white-blond godson's life.

Guess what readers; I don't have the excuse of being busy with school anymore to not post. I've got basically a month to chill, maybe find a job, earn some money, before I pack my bags and leave to go to University. Hopefully it's going to be an awesome experience, meeting new people, trying new things... Anyway it's been a tough year for me this year, discovering and realizing some really important stuff about myself, about my friends, about my life, and I just want to tell you that no matter what I'm here for you –you can always **PM** me if you need to talk. It doesn't have to be fanfiction related, it can be anything... if you feel you can't speak to anyone in your life personally and only a stranger will suffice then let me be YOUR stranger.


	11. Author's Note

**A/N: **I know this is not normal convention, but seeing as I have not updated this story since Christmas Day and hardly any of the followers of 'No Longer Your Son' review each chapter, I would like to announce that I will be introducing a few more characters –only one or two maybe.

My primary choice would be to include a younger Harry Potter, possibly coming into the care of Severus Snape by favour from Remus Lupin. Harry will not be too young, probably only a few years younger physically. My plan for his inclusion in the plot will be revealed in upcoming chapters and will be very significant to Draco's hoped recovery.

That being said, Remus might also feature... but he will not play as such a vital role as opposed to that of Draco, Severus and Harry in order of importance.

So, if you were able to decipher my pathetic rambling... **Would you, as the reader, like the inclusion of more characters into this multi-chaptered ficlit?** As so far, in the past eight chapters the only characters that have been featured are Malfoy and Snape.

On another note, **would you prefer it if I included more chapters from Snape's perspective?**

I have decided that this note will not be deleted to save confusion for others who may not necessarily have followed this story.


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Harry Potter, Angst, Hurt-Comfort