Warning: Will eventually contain Slash - Meaning male/male pairing. Yes, as in Draco/Harry. Don't read it if you don't like it.
Disclaimer: Nooo, I don't own the characters of Harry Potter. This story's based on events and in settings created by J.K. Rowling
Summary: After the events of Year 5, Harry returns to Grimmauld Place malnourished and plagued by nightmares. There he finds Draco Malfoy, who's changed over the summer. With an unlikely friendship and budding interest with the boy, Harry faces another year at Hogwarts.
Mad About You
Chapter One - Take Me Away
The jet of light hit him squarely on the chest. The laughter had not quite died from his face, but his eyes widened in shock.
"Come out, come out, little Harry!" she called in a baby voice. "What did you come after me for, then? I thought you were here to avenge my dear cousin!"
"Aaaaaah... did you love him, little baby Potter?" The hatred he felt for the woman a few feet from him raged in his chest, surrounding the gaping hole where He had been in his heart.
...Time slowed as Sirius fell...
"Crucio!" - Neville screamed, his legs drawn up to his chest... he fell to the floor, twitching and screaming in agony.
Ginny slid down the wall into a sitting position, panting and holding her ankle... Ginny, who was breathing in a very shallow way, her eyes still closed.
His mother keened forward releasing a scream as the alien green spell hit her.
The Death Eater's foot broke Neville's wand in two and connected with his face - Neville gave a howl of pain and recoiled, clutching his mouth and nose.
...His body curved in a graceful arc as he sank backward through the ragged veil hanging from the arch...
Dolohov's Slashing Spell passed right across Hermione's chest... she crumpled onto the floor and lay motionless.
The tentacles began wrapping themselves around Ron's arms like ropes. "Harry, look what's happen - no - no, I don't like it - no, stop - stop -" Ron fell over, still thrashing against his bonds.
Cedric Diggory's body slumped to the ground, a permanent look of confused surprise on his face.
"Harry, it'll suffocate him!" A second before a jet of red light hit Ginny squarely in the face. She keeled over sideways and lay there unconscious.
The look of mingled fear and surprise on his godfather's wasted, once-handsome face as he fell through the ancient doorway and disappeared behind the veil... Sirius Black did not reappear.
"SIRIUS!" Harry Potter jerked awake in bed sweating, safe at number four Privet Drive. The sweat made his shirt stick to his back and his heart was clenched in an ice-cold grip as the lead feeling in his stomach grew. Sirius was gone. Had been gone, in fact, for almost a month. Harry reached a shaking hand up to his face and rubbed his eyes as his face screwed up at the thought. He wasn't surprised to find them wet with tears. He always woke up from these nightmares crying; He'd had flashes from the battle at the Department of Mysteries haunting him almost nightly. Sometimes, like tonight, they were accompanied by images from the graveyard when Voldemort returned, and when his parents died.
Harry sat up in bed and drew his knees up to his chest. From his small window, he could see from the color of the horizon that it was a little before sunrise, somewhere close to half past four, maybe. He'd have to get up in a few hours to make breakfast for the Dursleys. The Dursleys. Their enmity towards him only grew in the three weeks he'd been there, helped along by their fear of his friends they met at the train station. Harry loved it. Every mention of having to write them made his Uncle Vernon turn twitchy and red. His Aunt Petunia would bare her horse teeth while her eyes grew wide and Dudley, their whale of a son, would gape and shrink down in his chair.
Harry reached over and picked his glasses up off the nightstand, pushing them onto his nose and bringing his room into focus. It was in bad shape, really, even though he had never really kept it squeaky clean. The paint on the walls was peeling in a few areas, the bed was small and the mattress was more than flat. His owl's cage sat in a corner, filthy and neglected. Hedwig was delivering a letter to Ron, so it was empty. Clothes were strewn about, as were his school things. Normally, the Dursleys wouldn't have allowed it, but he'd threatened to owl the Order, so they relented grudgingly. His prized possession, his Firebolt, was next to Hedwig's cage. He had no posters or pictures on the walls. The only other thing that suggested the room was his were the two pictures on his nightstand, both pictures' inhabitants were moving, waving and smiling at him. The first one of his parents with Sirius Black and Remus Lupin at their wedding (he'd switched it from the one of just his parents) and the second of Hermione, Ron and himself in the Gryffindor common room, sitting in their usual spots by the fire. The fire, which, just last year, Sirius appeared to speak with him.
Harry's eyes stayed on the picture with Sirius. 'It's my fault...'
His eyes squeezed shut as another tear trekked its way down his cheek. Let the Dursleys make their own breakfast - there was no way he was moving today.
"BOY! Where were you!?" Uncle Vernon yelled through his door. He banged his meaty fist on the wood once, at which time Harry heard a muffled yelp. He figured it was from Vernon hitting one of the numerous locks and bolts on the other side of his door.
Harry looked up from the floor and said calmly to the still closed door, "I was right here. Is there a problem?" He wasn't about to put up with being baited or pushed around by his relatives anymore.
"You were supposed to make breakfast this morning, idiot boy. When I come back, you better be downstairs doing chores."
Harry listened as his uncle trumped down the hallway, sounding like an elephant. He sat in silence for a few more precious minutes before the door opened. His fat cousin Dudley stood in the doorway, with a smug smile on his face.
"What do you want, Dudley?" Harry sighed and refrained from rolling his eyes.
"Poor little Harry, what's the matter? Did your 'friends' leave you here to rot?" Dudley took a step into the small room as he said this.
Harry gritted his teeth. It was just like Dudley to come and torment him without thinking.
"Go away Dudley."
"Where's that freak with the eye? Or the girl and her stupid hair? Where's that raggedy bum that was with them? Or your stupid, murderous convict of a godfather?" Dudley sneered. "You're all alone."
Harry grew cold at the mention of Sirius. His hand clenched into a fist and his eyes narrowed as he looked up at his cousin. "Shut.Up."
"Oh, did I hit a nerve? Did your godfather forget you? No, maybe he just didn't want you, since everyone you know dies." Dudley didn't know about Sirius, nor how close his words hit to home, but as soon as the words slid out of his mouth, he knew he had said the wrong thing. One minute he's sneering at Harry looking into his blazing green eyes, the next, the dark-haired boy's fists were raining down across his face and stomach in a fury.
Harry couldn't think. All he knew was that Dudley deserved horrible pain. The scorching anger inside stopped him from feeling or being aware that Dudley was now fighting back. His fat fist had come into contact with his chest and face, bruising or cutting them in more than one place. Dudley's nose was bleeding, one eye was squinting through already purple skin, and he had several areas that would be bruised later on. A feral grin crossed Harry's face before the pounding on the floor announced the arrival of Vernon and Petunia to the scene in the hallway.
"WHAT IN THE BLOODY HELL ARE YOU DOING BOY!?" Vernon ripped Harry off of his son and held him down by the scruff of his neck. Petunia whimpered and crouched over her precious son and helped him up.
"Oh, my poor Dudders..what did that foul little wretch do to you??" She whimpered and fussed over her son, helping him into the bathroom to clean him up. Harry ignored his insufferable aunt. Uncle Vernon chose that moment to thwap his hand on the back of Harry's head and push him against the railing of the landing, further hitting the side of his head on the corner of the banister. The anger and pain he felt at Dudley's words were still pounding adrenaline through his system.
"What did you do, boy."
"Dudley provoked me, so I was punching him. Problem?" Harry glared at his uncle. "Let me go."
"Oh. Oh. Dudley provoked you, did he? You should know better than to lie to me boy. We've allowed you to stay here, and given you food-"
"Right. Scrapes of food, enough to not starve to death. Beating me, and locking me in my room, and calling me a freak all the time. Well, thank you for your grand hospitality. Now let go of me!" An electrical surge coursed through his body and Uncle Vernon let go of him so fast it was as if he was on fire.
"What did you.. You're not supposed to use your funny business here! That's it! It's the final straw! If you don't like it in your room, well you can go back where you belong!" Vernon shoved Harry towards the stairs and followed him down, holding him now by his shirt. He didn't listen to any of Harry's protests, and when he reached the floor he turned and unlocked the familiar little cupboard Harry had spent eleven years in. He roughly shoved Harry inside and slammed the door after him, firmly locking it and looking through the grate.
"You can spend the week in here. Fuss, and it will be longer." He said nastily before heading back up the stairs to check on Dudley before leaving for work.
Harry sat down on the little worn cot that used to be his bed and listened to the Dursleys hustle about. As his adrenaline wore off, he knew he deserved it partially, for assaulting Dudley. But he also knew Dudley got what he deserved, too. Harry looked around the little prison, using the only light he had from the grate on the door and the crack underneath. Needless to say, he couldn't see much, but he could tell that the cupboard was smaller than he remembered it, almost suffocating. '"Harry, it'll suffocate him!"'
A sharp stinging on the side of his head kept him from dwelling on the memories. Harry pressed his hand to the side of his head and winced when it stung even more. His fingers came away with wet warmth. He held his hand up to the grate and saw a few red smears of blood. 'Great. Wandless, soon to feel pain, stuck in this stupid cupboard, and bleeding from a head wound. I can see the headlines now: 'Harry Potter, The Boy-Who-Lived, Bleeds to Death Inside Cupboard Under Stairs of a Muggle Home. Wizarding World is Doomed.''
Harry snorted and curled up on the cot, angling his head so the wound was facing up. Hopefully the blood would clot soon. For the time being, Harry drifted off to sleep listening to Petunia rummage around the house.
Malfoy Mansion, Wiltshire
The Malfoy Mansion was actually a small old castle used back in the 1700's. It was recently refurbished and renewed to its old splendor, with dark grey stone and cream-colored paint. Fancy little turrets rose systematically from the roof accented the huge, black main doors bearing the Malfoy Crest. The drive was lined with small hedges of dark plants that also lined the outer perimeter of the entire estate. The sprawling gardens were in the back, housing everything from Muggle flowers - some of Narcissa's favorite - to magically moving ones, along with fountains and statues. It did not really matter if something did not grow in any present weather condition; the gardens had spells placed on them so they grew year-round.
For once, Draco Malfoy didn't mind the Muggle flowers as he sat looking at them, thinking about everything that had happened. He did not have to show visual disgust at their simplicity, as he was now allowed to appreciate their life and beauty. He liked the narcissas his mother enjoyed, and the shapes of the bleeding hearts fascinated him. It was shocking really, how much he found a liking of Muggle things once he was free to do so.
Yes, he was free. His father was in Azkaban for life. While he did not enjoy that fact, and the Malfoy name was sludge with the Ministry these days, Draco found that he liked the little newfound freedoms he and his mother had. He was free to spend time with his mother, instead of having to learn the Dark Arts and be with his father. If he said or did something wrong, his mother didn't raise a hand to him. She did not use curses on him to 'teach' him. She welcomed him the way he was. He had forgotten how much he loved being with his mother, since he had spent every waking moment in the shadow of his father for the last ten years. He had been molded by his father - no, not his father, Lucius - he had been molded by Lucius to follow his path as a Death Eater, to accept the Dark Mark and serve You-Know-Who. But he didn't want to serve You-Know-Who. He didn't want to bow down to some white, scaly violet-eyed freak bent on half the wizarding world's destruction. Granted, he had been prejudiced towards them, but it was more to please Lucius than anything else.
He had been most prejudiced towards one certain muggle-born thus far: Hermione Granger. Draco hated himself for it now. It had really been because of Harry Potter that Draco was so hateful towards Granger and Weasley. They were his friends, his best friends in fact. A position Draco thought he should have had from day one in Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. Draco had been sincerely hurt when Harry refused his offer of friendship, and he had hidden it well under the insults. He supposed he deserved it, as spouting off about Lucius and purebloods was definitely not the way to get on Harry's good side. But now he was in a rut - he was Harry's supposed enemy. It sat well with his housemates in Slytherin that he was against Harry, since they all were. He enjoyed being so well liked by them - some called him the Slytherin Prince - but he wondered now if that's what he really wanted. He knew logically he enjoyed his place in Slytherin, but it would be so much better if he could be Harry's friend and still be accepted by his peers.
Draco sighed and slouched down on the stone bench next to the narcissas, putting his head into his hands with his elbows on his knees. Who was he kidding? He'd do anything now to be Harry's friend, reputation and acts be damned. He'd settle for a friendship, in the least. What he really wanted, he knew Harry would never ever want. Only two other people knew of his crush on Harry Potter: his own friends, Blaise Zabini and Pansy Parkinson. God, who wouldn't have a crush on the stupid Scarhead? He was everything anyone could want. He had so much talent it was coming out of his ears. He played Quidditch with extreme grace and skill. He was one of the best in his classes, minus Potions (Draco had a sneaky suspicion it had something to do with Snape), and he was attractive to boot.
Draco groaned. He'd gone off on another Harry rant. 'Who's the stupid one now? You ninny.'
Narcissa Malfoy floated down the grand staircase, looking down regally at her visitor. The man was in plain black robes with a green insignia on the front left. His pockmarked face and beady eyes were stuck on the butler, disdain clear. Narcissa herself was wearing pale green dress made of velvet. She dismissed the butler and fixed a stony gaze on the man.
"And why, may I ask, have you come calling, Mr...?" Narcissa trailed off. She didn't like having so many visitors unless they were female friends of hers; it meant they were friends and callers of Lucius.
"Yes, Mr. Smythwyckt. Forgive me for not offering you tea, but why are you here?" She stayed on the bottom stairs, her hand on the banister.
"I am a colleague of Lucius's. I should get right to the point. It was arranged that, if Lucius was... inconvenienced, in any way, that his son, Draco Malfoy, would come stay with me until the time where he was able and fit to see the Dark Lord personally. I trust-"
"No? Excuse me, but what do you mean?"
"I mean, Mr. Smythwyckt," Narcissa said calmly, "that he will not be leaving the manor to go with you, nor will he be seeing the Dark Lord. I forbid him to receive the Dark Mark. My husband is already in Azkaban, and I will not see my son placed there also. Good day, the door out is behind you." She stood and waited for him to leave.
A look of outrage crossed his face without being replaced with a stony mask. "Madam Malfoy, you see... we will get your son one way or the other. You may forbid it, but he will join us. He was promised to us. And, as you've refused it, Lucius also wished me to give you a parting gift." Before the words had left his mouth, he raised his wand and drawn a symbol in the air in harsh slashes. The curse, glowing a soft blue, hit Narcissa Malfoy in the chest. Her face rendered little surprise as she fell to the floor, unconscious.
Smythwyckt turned around and let himself out the door. He calmly got into his car and ordered the driver to leave.
A yell followed them down the drive.
Draco stood swiftly and froze at the sound of yelling. It was the butler. He turned and hurried back up to the manor, entering through the nearest doors. Something was wrong, otherwise the family butler never would have yelled. His stomach clenched in dread.
He stopped at a dead halt when he saw the horrifying scene before him in the foyer. His mother lay crumpled on the floor, her blond hair puddled around her head, almost as if it were silky blood. Her eyes were open and unseeing, staring up at the ceiling. Though she did not appear physically harmed, it was just as horrifying.
The butler - Draco had never bothered learning his name before - stood opposite of him, staring down at his mother. He seemed just as shocked.
In true Malfoy fashion, Draco composed himself within a matter of seconds, long enough to give an order to the butler: "Send for Severus Snape." He closed his eyes to block out the image. Severus would know what to do. The greasy, black-haired man was an old friend of the family's and Draco's head of House.
Draco kneeled down next to his mother. The mother he'd just gotten back, and finally admitted to himself that he liked. A lone tear slid down his pale cheek. Draco waited with his mother's body for Severus to arrive.
It didn't take long: Severus apparated outside the Malfoy mansion within five minutes of receiving the owl. He opened the black door and paused momentarily as he took in the sight before him. His eyes flickered with emotion, but it was gone before it was noticed.
"Draco, go pack your things. I'll take care of this," Snape told the boy, kneeling next to him. When he didn't receive a response, he shook the boy's shoulder slightly.
Draco stood mechanically and moved upstairs to his room.
Snape looked down at Narcissa Malfoy, wondering what on earth had happened. He wasn't a fool; this was done by a Death Eater, but who? And why?
Snape touched Narcissa's pale hand, noting it was slightly warm. He frowned to himself as he looked at her face. Surely she would have been more surprised if someone had shot the Killing Curse at her? It was then that he took the time to notice the small movement of her chest. She was breathing in small shallow movements. So she wasn't dead.
Snape picked up Narcissa's body, not wanting it to be at the stairs when Draco came back down. He moved into the main room where the Malfoy fireplace stood. Casting in some floo powder, he called for Dumbledore. The aged wizard popped his head in to see Snape and Narcissa.
"Ah. She's still alive I presume, Severus?" The grave look in his eye was different from the twinkle that usually appeared there.
"Yes, but barely. She needs to go to St. Mungo's. Draco's getting his things. I can't take him to my house though, they'll look for him there."
"Yes, I thought as much." Dumbledore stepped through into the fireplace, his whole body appearing. He handed Snape a piece of parchment, "Give this to him. He'll have to stay there for the summer, I'm afraid, for his safety. I shall go ahead and take Narcissa to St. Mungo's. Tell Draco she's alive, he should not have to think his mother dead." With that, Dumbledore took Narcissa from Snape and went back into the fire.
Snape moved back to the staircase and found Draco standing with his trunk. Levitating it, he brought Draco in to the fireplace. He handed Draco the parchment from Dumbledore.
"Draco, read this. I'll explain things once we get there." Snape pushed him into the fireplace with his trunk, standing next to him. Draco glanced down at the paper, before looking at Snape confused.
"Number 12 Grimmauld Place!"
Privet Drive, Little Whinging
Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks stood in front of number four Privet Drive. On the outside, Lupin appeared calm and pleasant, dressed in simple slacks, a white shirt and a grey over shirt. Inside though, he was near furious at the muggles within the house. Dumbledore had told him it was time to pick up Harry, giving few details. All he would say was that Vernon was out of line, and it had been almost a week since Harry's last response.
Lupin rang the little doorbell once again. No one was answering, as planned. The Dursleys had gone out to a dinner party to celebrate Vernon's small raise, leaving tonight as the perfect time to pick up Harry. Glancing around, Lupin cast alahomora on the lock and let them into the house.
Tonks looked around, making sure no one was in the living room, before moving up the stairs to where she knew Harry's room was. She pulled a face at the numerous locks down the side of the door. Tonks opened the door and peeked in.
"Wotcher, Harry! ..Harry? Oi, Remus, he's not here." She called down the stairs to Lupin.
"Gather up his things, Tonks. Dumbledore told me where he was." Lupin had stood still, eyeing the small door under the stairs, from the moment they got in the house. He walked over to the door and unlocked it. It creaked open slowly to reveal Harry laying on a cot, asleep. Furious was not a word that came close to what Lupin was feeling now. Harry looked sick and neglected. He was dressed only in boxers and a shirt and in need of a shower. His skin was pale, he had dark circles under his eyes, and he looked like he had beaten: bruises and small cuts marred the visible skin of Harry's face and arms. Harry was also much too skinny; Lupin could see his ribs under his shirt and his collarbone cast unhealthy shadows. Lupin winced, shaking Harry awake.
Harry's eyes opened and he looked dazedly at Lupin before completely piecing together reality. It had been awhile since the door had been opened. He flung himself out of the cupboard and hugged Lupin hard.
"Come on, Harry, we're getting you out of here." Lupin led Harry upstairs where Tonks was already done packing.
She smiled as she turned around to face him, "Wotcher Har.. Merlin, Harry, what's happened to you? You look half dead! Here, put these on." She handed him a pair of his jeans and his shoes, staring almost nauseously at the blood that had caked in his hair from the blow to the head. Lupin just stood next to Harry, silent.
"Molly's gonna be in a right state when she sees you."
Harry pulled his jeans and shoes on deftly, "We're going to the Burrow?" His voice sounded coarse from not being used for a week. Harry was glad he didn't have to look at himself, if just hearing his voice made him cringe.
Lupin spoke up, "No, Harry. We're going to the Order's headquarters." Grimmauld Place. Sirius's home.
Harry balked. "Why? W-we don't have to go there for anything, do we?" his voice was edged with panic at the thought of being in the place where Sirius had been.
Lupin looked at him almost regretfully, "Everyone is at the headquarters, Harry. It's safer than the Burrow." The statement caused Harry to grow quiet.
"Here, Harry." Tonks put a small rubber duck into his hand. "It'll take you there. We're gonna take your trunk and things."
Harry didn't have time to reply. The portkey activated and Harry felt the familiar jerk behind his navel, propelling him towards the one place he had dreaded seeing the most this summer.
A/N: Hurray, first chapter. I'm pleased it ended up being scroll-worthy. And to think, it only took me about three days to type. It's my first attempt at HP fiction. Don't butcher me =X
A few side notes.. The title, Mad About You, is obviously from the show MAY. The chapter title, Take Me Away, is a snippet from The Labyrinth. Harry's dream flashes are from HP and the Order of the Phoenix.
I finally got Word working again, so I have my spellcheck back. Woohoo! So I've had to go over this chapter a few times.
Next chapter: How will Harry and Draco react to Grimmauld Place and eachother? How will Hermione - and more importantly, Ron - react to Draco? And what's the Order been up to exactly?