A/N: Thanks for 9K guys! I'm glad that you're all enjoying this story.

Draco opened his eyes slowly to a head full of black hair, and immediately wanted to close them again. His head felt heavy and his insides felt hollow, and he already knew that today might just be the worst day of his entire life.

He shifted gently, watching Harry, who was still asleep. It had been a few weeks and he'd progressed unusually quickly, now able to stand and walk on his own without having to lean on Draco, although he still liked to. He was less pale as he enjoyed spending time outside, and he'd gained some weight, now not as skeletal as he'd been before. He was beginning to look like a normal teenager his age.

However, his personality hadn't changed and it was likely that it never would. He was still very quiet, rarely saying a word, and he'd only said half a sentence a few times. His timidness angered Lucius to no end, as it was clear the man was expecting a battle-born warrior, not the doe-eyed, fearful boy that was reality. Harry was incredibly kind and gentle though, with a warm nature.

When he was asleep he looked perfectly calm, his black hair messy, long eyelashes fanning across his cheeks, his scarred lips slightly parted. Draco pulled him closer, leaning their foreheads together, desperately trying to convince himself that today wasn't reality. Being close to Harry usually made him feel better, but knowing that it could all come crashing down today made his heart physically hurt.

He pulled the duvet up over their heads, hoping that it would create some sort of barrier between them and the rest of the world. He'd always do this as a child when he was scared or upset; for some reason, the cover of a duvet seemed to make him feel safer, even though he knew that if he was actually in danger, a duvet wouldn't help him at all.

Harry opened his eyes slowly, watching Draco in silence. Harry was probably the only person Draco could be this physically and mentally close to without feeling awkward or uncomfortable, and he didn't quite know why. Something in Harry's eyes was just so impossibly calming and comforting, staring deep into them through the semi-darkness.

Harry had noticed Draco's upset nature; it was as if he could simply sense these things. "What's wrong?" He asked quietly, words barely more than a breathy whisper, ghosting across Draco's lips. Harry noticing his feelings only made them more real, and he instinctively pulled Harry closer.

"Nothing, I'm fine," Draco murmured in reply, Harry lifting one of his hands to poke Draco's cheek gently.

"Lie," he mumbled, diverting his gaze and rolling over onto his side, obviously hurt that Draco had lied so blatantly to him. Draco felt a stab of guilt, and slipped his arms around Harry's waist, pulling him close once again. Draco felt terrified that if he didn't have some sort of hold on Harry, he'd just slip away, fade into thin air.

"M' sorry," Draco whispered, words muffled by Harry's black hair. "I don't know how to tell the truth."

Harry had been noticing Draco's attitude slipping for a few days now, growing dimmer and dimmer with every hour that had passed. But how did Draco tell him that his happiness, his home, that everything he now loved and needed could be torn away from him? How did you tell someone that?

And so he didn't. Harry didn't respond, but let his hands slip over Draco's, a comforting gesture that let him know Harry understood and wasn't going to force him. Still slightly upset however, he refused to face Draco again, and they lay like that for the next ten minutes, simply listening to each other breathe.

Finally a knock sounded at the door, and Draco just whimpered, tightening his hold on Harry and pressing his face further into the boy's hair. Harry shifted, rolling back over to face Draco, real concern now beginning to dawn on his features. Draco saw slight panic in his eyes as they searched Draco's desperately for any sort of answer as to why he was distressed. Draco loosened his hold on Harry, moving to get up, but Harry just clung to him tighter. "It's alright," Draco murmured, lying to both himself and Harry once again, which made the boy frown deeply.

The door creaked open, and Narcissa poked her head in. She looked nothing short of awful, just like Draco. Her eyes were sunken and her skin was paler than usual, she looked ten years older than her actual age. "Hey, good morning," she said, walking into the room quietly. "There's breakfast if either of you want it."

Draco felt like if he ate anything he would be sick immediately. He looked to Harry, who refused to meet his gaze, and knew that he probably wasn't going to eat either.

"I'm going to get a shower," Draco said tiredly, walking towards the adjoining bathroom, Harry watching after him with a spiteful gaze.

"C'mon then, let's get you dressed," Narcissa said, her tone just as weak as Draco's as he took the clothes that had been outside the door all evening. A button up shirt, black slacks and a suit jacket. She winced, knowing that Harry would hate wearing clothes that actually fit him after only wearing Draco's things since he arrived here.

"Did you and Draco have a fight?" She asked, helping Harry to pull his shirt over his head. Harry just shrugged, gaze downcast and his expression filled with hurt. Narcissa cupped his cheek in her hand, forcing Harry to look at her. "He's okay, Harry. He isn't angry with you, he's just tired."

Harry just diverted his eyes, biting his lip. "Why?"

Narcissa sighed, sitting beside him. "He's worried about you. There's someone coming to visit you today, and he wants you to make a good impression."

"Someone?" Harry questioned nervously, looking up at the woman.

"One of Lucius' friends," Narcissa replied, Harry glaring bitterly at the sound of Lucius' name. She put a hand on his shoulder. "It'll be fine, Harry."

"Promise?" Harry murmured, watching her with his large eyed gaze.

"I promise," Narcissa replied with a warm smile, not knowing if she was lying.

As expected, Harry was shifting uncomfortably in the tight fitting button up shirt, picking at the sleeves and the buttons. Narcissa thought he looked very smart, apart from his hair, which was absolutely untameable and would have to stay how it was.

******

Draco held Harry's hand tightly as they stood outside the dining room door.

Harry could practically feel Draco's nerves radiating off him, and it was making him nervous too. The faint murmur of voices could be heard from inside the room.

"They're nearly ready for you, Harry," Narcissa slipped out of the room, a pained look on her face. "They want you to go in alone."

Harry whimpered and took a step backwards. "No," he said, clearly starting to panic.

Draco took both of his hands, trying to hide his own absolute terror. "Harry, look at me," he said as calmly as he could manage. Harry did, his panic slowly dissipating as he looked at Draco. "It's going to be okay, alright? No one's going to hurt you, I won't let them," Draco said firmly, pulling Harry close. "You're going to be okay." Draco kissed his forehead gently, and Harry seemed to be calm again, truly believing Draco's words.

Draco let go of Harry's hands as the door creaked open. Harry looked towards the room, which was clearly darkened, but stepped inside. Narcissa quickly moved over to her son, wrapping her arms around him as tears welled up in his eyes.

As soon as the door closed behind Harry he wanted to leave. The stench of something he knew very well filled the air, he could taste the metallic scent on his tongue.

Lying on the table was a woman covered in blood. Due to the darkness Harry couldn't discern much, but he could see that she had no arms or legs, and that she was breathing and whimpering quietly. Surrounding the table were people, cloaked in black, skull-like masks covering their faces and hiding their identities. He could still pick which one of them was Lucius, sitting at the end of the table, next to a person who sat at the head of it.

Harry assumed that the person was a man, but he was so distorted that he couldn't tell. The man's skin was pure white, like the paint on the laboratory walls, and his eyes were red and snakelike, like the lights on the cameras. His nose seemed to be nonexistent, two slits where his nostrils would have been.

Harry understood that something was wrong here. The woman was in pain, but he didn't know what she'd done to deserve that sort of punishment. She probably did something very bad. Harry never even had his arms or legs cut off, and he was the worst.

"Hello," the man at the head of the table said, his voice making Harry's gaze harden. It was rough and old, like their voices. Harry stood his ground at the end of the table, ignoring the whimpering woman and refusing to lower his gaze. The man raised a nonexistent eyebrow at Harry's lack of response.

"What is your name?"

For a moment Harry paused. Was this a trick question, like they asked him? Was it Subject Five, Prisoner Sixty-Three, or Harry? He preferred Harry, but he didn't know what the correct answer was. "Don't know," he replied calmly.

"Alright. Well, my name is Voldemort," the name made Harry's lip curl. He said this as if it was expected to be something dramatic, and everyone at the table either flinched or shifted, even Lucius.

"Right," Harry replied in a tone that Draco usually carried, one that he'd learned from him. Sarcasm, Narcissa called it. Harry found it tremendously funny.

Voldemort tilted his head to the side, a displeased expression on his snakelike face. "You know why you're here, don't you?"

Harry shook his head, growing bored of this. These people were boring, that man was weird, and he just wanted to curl up with Draco and read a book. He wished that the woman would be quiet as well; did she not know that she was going to be punished for making noise?

"We're going to be working together for awhile," Voldemort said, and Harry didn't react. He doubted this man's words, that was what they had said to him, and he'd ended up badly. "You need to do something for me." Harry watched him warily. Was this another test? Were they going to hold him down and shock him with electricity, like they so often did? "Do you see the woman on the table?"

And obvious question, but Harry nodded, looking back at her. Now that his eyes had adjusted to the darkness, he could see her clearly. She was young; maybe younger than Narcissa? Her hair was dark, filthy and matted, and blood covered nearly every inch of her naked body. Blood pooled on the table around her from the stumps where her arms and legs should be.

"You are going to kill her."

Harry looked back up to Voldemort, fear finally growing in his chest. Draco didn't like it when Harry hurt people, even by accident. He got very upset. Harry didn't want Draco to be upset, so he shook his head firmly. "No."

A dark glare appeared on the man's face, laced with a sort of cruel amusement. "You will."

"Not," Harry spat, finishing the sentence for him. He turned to leave the room, tired with the woman's silly crying and that man's silly face, but as soon as he reached for the doorknob pain exploded throughout him.

Every inch of his body hurt like nothing he'd ever felt before. He fell to his knees, mouth wide open in a silent scream that got lost in his throat. His vision swam, black spots appearing at the edges of his vision as his whole body felt like it was set on fire.

Finally the pain subsided, and Harry felt a familiar anger start to rise. He stood up, using the wall for support, shaking from head to toe with a mixture of anger and pain.

"Kill her."

"No," Harry yelled, voice overshadowed by an ear-splitting crash. All the windows in the room exploded, shards of glass flying through the room, none of them hitting the boy who'd caused it, but most of the people in cloaks becoming covered in it. Light flooded into the room, allowing Harry to see clearly. One of the people on the cloaks was pointing some sort of stick at him in a way that was clearly threatening, and Harry turned on him instantly.

His head exploded with a loud cracking sound, followed by wet splatting as mixtures of blood, brain and bone flew at the walls and roof.

Harry's legs shook and he crumpled, only now realising what he'd done. There was blood everywhere, and the woman on the table was most certainly dead now; a large shard of glass stuck out of her head.

Draco would be so mad. At that thought, the boy burst into tears.