A/N: wow guys! This is my fastest growing story yet, thanks so much for all the support, it really means a lot. I'm glad you all enjoy it! I think I'll always end up apologising for the infrequent updates: I'm sorry! Hopefully I'll be able to update more frequently soon. This story is fully planned to have 19 chapters total, so get ready for a wild ride!
Enjoy!

Draco was reading again. He felt like he'd been doing a lot more reading recently, mostly because it was all the boy seemed to want to do.

He was reading the same novel they'd been working their way through in the dark, damp cell in Azkaban prison, a fantasy novel about a boy who took on magical powers and saved his world. A childish story, his father never failed to point out, and one that he always disapproved of him reading, but one that Draco always refused to give up nonetheless. It was a nice story, with a heartwarming tone and message, despite its childishness.

The boy was watching him intently as he read aloud, eyes scanning Draco's face, sometimes looking down to the white pages with stamped letters of ink across them, and periodically looking around the room, slightly paranoid. He seemed relatively calm whenever Draco looked up to check on him, his bright green doe like eyes watching Draco eagerly.

They'd been left alone since Draco had cut his hair off. His mother hadn't made any more surprise visits, and neither has had his father, much to Draco's relief, although the knew it couldn't be long until he did. Dinner was quickly approaching as well; where the Malfoy family usually sat around a large dining table and Draco tried to cope. Dinner was always stressful, with his father becoming agitated whenever Draco didn't use proper manners, or didn't say anything, or talked too much.

The boy didn't say anything at all really, the odd 'no' or 'Draco' here and there, but that was it. And he most certainly wouldn't have table manners; in fact Draco doubted he would even pick up a knife or fork. Not to mention he could hardly walk. The whole ordeal was stressing him out a little too much.

Finishing his sentence, Draco looked up again, to see him looking towards the door. His eyes were open wide, and he was perfectly still, arms still habitually wrapped around his chest in a strait-jacket like fashion. Draco frowned, looking towards the door, but seeing nothing out of the ordinary. Eventually Draco heard the small pitter-patter of steps that belonged to one of the house elves. He must have heard it far before Draco did.

A knock rung out on the door and the boy flinched, but remembering what Draco had said about knocking, didn't panic. When the door opened though, he gasped in fright and scrambled closer to Draco, staring terrified at the house elf standing in the doorway.

Draco couldn't help but feel like he was about to laugh. Dobby the house elf had to be one of the most unthreatening creatures to walk this planet, and yet this boy was absolutely terrified of him. "It's alright, that's just Dobby, he's harmless."

Dobby looked mildly confused, yet at the same time, fearful. "Dobby was sent to tell you that tea is ready, Master Draco. Master Malfoy wants you in the dining hall."

"Thanks Dobby. And don't punish yourself for frightening him, he's scared of a lot."

The house elf nodded and quickly scuttled from the room. Draco turned back to the boy, moving to get off the bed, intending to go to dinner. This was met by a large protest from the boy in the form of a loud cry, moving one of his arms to point at the still open book. "Harry," he said.

"We can't read, alright? We've got to go to dinner," Draco replied, surprised that he'd said another word, the main character of the novel's name.

The boy's eyebrows knitted together in a deep frown, clearly not liking the idea of leaving the book behind. He looked back to the book, and picked it up with a shaking hand, eyes scanning across the words. Draco raised an eyebrow. So he could read, then.

"C'mon, we've got to go."

Again, he protested. "Harry," he muttered, not bothering to look up at Draco.

Draco sighed. "Fine, you can bring the book, alright? How does that sound?"

He looked up, Draco never failing to be shocked by just how intense his gaze was. Slowly he nodded, shifting his legs from their cross-legged position. Now came the difficult part.

"Can you walk?" Draco asked, knowing it would probably be a no, but the boy seemed full of surprises. Frowning, he hung his legs over the side of the bed and tried to stand. His legs shook, unable to support his meagre body weight, and Draco caught him before he fell on the floor. He seemed angry with his failure, and shoved at Draco lightly, as if wanting to get away. It clicked in Draco's mind why: he was probably punished for failing in those abhorrent experiments. Failure meant punishment.

After Draco had managed to convince him that he wasn't going to be hurt for not being able to stand up, he put one arm around his waist, the boy's arm around his shoulders. One staggering step slowly became two, then three, then four. The boy seemed cautious and anxious to even be on his feet, his green eyes wide with a dazed look in them. A small whimper of protest left his lips as he realised they'd be leaving the room, silencing his protest when Draco gave him a smile of comfort.

He seemed just as comically fascinated about the hallway as the rest of the house, eyes studying every relic and object in the spaces, tracing the intricacies of the carpet beneath them, watching the moving paintings on the wall with a mixture of terror and awe. Draco found it endlessly amusing, almost like watching the first year muggleborns at Hogwarts as they came into contact with magic for the first time.

The dining hall was in the next room. Draco felt the anxiety clawing at him, which the boy seemed to pick up on, frowning unsurely at the door in front of them, wondering why it was causing Draco distress and what could be behind it to cause that. Draco told himself to stop being so anxious, as it wouldn't help anything, especially not the boy's own fear. Draco wasn't particularly eager to see him whilst extremely distressed, so he forced himself to take a few deep breaths, instinctively tightening his hold on the boy next to him.

He didn't particularly care about anything that happened during this dinner, all that he cared about was making sure that he stayed safe, and that his father didn't do anything that might terrify him to the point of violence. For months now Draco had sat in a dark, damp cell all day, reading to this boy, helping him to eat and drink, and had slowly progressed into forming somewhat of a relationship with him, one that he desperately didn't want to fall apart, for both their sakes.

Draco constantly had to remind himself that it wasn't just the boy's life on the line here, it was his own as well. If he was seen as not worthy of rehabilitating this boy, of controlling him, of getting him to do what the Dark Lord wanted from him, than he'd be murdered, killed in cold blood. He doubted even his mother would be able to prevent that from happening, and his father wouldn't even attempt to.

Holding his head high and setting a neutral expression on his face, Draco planned to walk into that room as if facing death himself sitting on the other side of the door, he planned to walk in without shame, bravely. The boy didn't look nearly as brave and was watching the door apprehensively, and he winced as Draco pushed it open.

Lucius Malfoy sat at the head of the long, wooden dining table that stretched across the room. His hands were folded on top of the table, his long blond hair combed to perfection, his grey eyes cold and piercing, landing immediately on the two of them as the doors opened.

The feeling of his gaze was akin to that of having a freezing bucket of water poured over his head, dread forming in his stomach. Lucius didn't look impressed at the frail, rugged black haired boy, in fact he seemed disappointed. There was a brief moment of silence in which no one did anything, Lucius stared, Draco stared back, and the boy watched the man at the end of the room with an equally unimpressed look. He seemed curious about Lucius, as if only to wonder why Draco was so frightened when the man hadn't even moved a muscle, but was quickly distracted from the head of the Malfoy household to the dining table, which was filled with food, all brought in by the house elves.

With his pitifully small amount of strength, Draco could feel the boy pulling against his embrace, staring at the food on the table with wild and hungry eyes. Draco's anxiety was only renewed; he most certainly didn't have any of the table manners that Lucius was accustomed to witnessing.

Draco felt it best not to stand there all evening, and he helped the boy over to one of the chairs, Lucius watching with a demeaning frown. Draco sat next to him, if only to make sure he didn't eat like a complete animal, as well as to stem any outbursts that might happen from Draco being too far away.

"Why can't he walk?"

For such an 'intelligent' man, Lucius sure had his faults. Desperately wondering when his mother was going to get here, he replied. "He's weak from malnutrition."

His father just tutted, which made Draco clench his fist, the boy noticing his tenseness and looking around the room, unsure and trying to find the problem. His eyes landed on Narcissa, who'd just walked in, and his eyes remained on her with a fond look.

"You cut his hair!" The blonde woman smiled, sitting down opposite them. "He looks wonderful!"

Draco smiled weakly back, and the boy just watched, as if not really comprehending the words. Draco knew he understood, but he either didn't care, or was hiding a reaction.

Now that everyone was at the table, they were allowed to start eating. Draco knew that he would probably eat whatever was put on his plate; it was how he ate it that mattered. There was a variety of roast vegetables set out, as well as a rack of lamb ribs. Draco put a bit of everything onto his plate. He immediately tried to reach out and eat with his hands, but Draco took his wrists and held him back.

He mumbled out a noise of protest, and frowned at Draco's hands. "Here, like this," Draco picked up his silver fork, which had been polished to the point where it shimmered, and demonstrated how to eat properly. The boy watched, curious, but seemingly mostly curious about why he had to eat like that. A dull frown still remaining on his face, he picked up his own fork and stabbed a piece of carrot, managing to eat to an acceptable level of manners.

Draco could see his mother watching them from across the table, a small amused smile on her face.

Draco ate slowly, as opposed to the boy sitting next to him who wolfed down all the food on his plate in half the time. He seemed content to stare around the room whilst waiting for Draco to finish, gaze pointedly avoiding Lucius, mostly observing the house elves that came in every now and again with his wide green eyes.

"Have you two had any more thoughts on a name?" Narcissa asked, her warm voice causing the boy's gaze to land on her. Draco opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off.

"We shouldn't give him a name," Lucius said, Draco being distinctly reminded of his father saying the same thing some ten years ago when Draco had found a stick insect in the Manor gardens. He'd happily shown it to his parents, wanting to name it and keep it as a pet. Lucius had said the same thing, with the reason of he didn't want Draco becoming attached to it, as he promptly crushed the bug under his foot not five minutes after being shown it. "We should leave that up to the Dark Lord."

The sound of those two words alone sent shivers up Draco's spine and he winced, the boy noticing the atmosphere that had suddenly turned cold and tense, and looked to Draco in brief panic, wondering why. Draco gave him a reassuring smile, although it was half-hearted, and the boy smiled just as nervously back.

"No, I don't think so," Narcissa bravely interjected, Lucius narrowing his eyes at her. "Surely we can at least give him a name."

While the two adults bickered, the boy tuned out and noticed the book Draco had to bring with him at the boy's request, the one he'd promptly forgotten about at the prospect of food. "Harry," he said, reaching towards the book. Draco smiled and handed it to him, the boy rifling through the pages to where they were up to in the story.

"Harry?" Narcissa broke off the argument between her and her husband.

"It's the book character's name," Draco said quietly, knowing of Lucius' strict ban on books at the dining table after Draco had brought one to every dinner for a week and a half when he was younger, and Lucius got sick of it.

"That's a nice name, Harry," she mused to herself, the boy looking up and giving her a small smile, to which she replied with one of her own.

"It's a muggle name," Lucius muttered hatefully.

"It's a wonderful name," Narcissa insisted. "So, how about it? Harry, huh?"

Draco looked towards the boy, who had his eyes set on Narcissa, smile remaining on his lips. He gave a small nod, and Narcissa clapped her hands together, excited. Draco did his best to give him a supportive smile, but he didn't appreciate the boy giving Lucius more reasons to dislike him. However, it was ultimately his choice.

"Well, that's that then! You and Harry had best be off to bed," Narcissa said, Lucius looking disgusted, Draco knowing he'd better get out of here before the inevitable argument exploded. He helped Harry to his feet and left the room, shutting the door behind him, not willing to stick around to hear the yelling begin.