Exile

After the first unsuccessful week of teaching, the lessons began to improve. 

Harry wasn't a bad student, though Draco suspected he was still underestimating all. It didn't matter, as long as the Dark Lord didn't complain, everything was fine. 

“Good morning Harry,” he greeted one morning smiling, “I have something for you.” 

Harry cocked his head to the side, puzzled, probably not understanding.

Draco sank down on the other end of the couch. They weren't friends, not at all, but there was a much more relaxed air than two weeks ago.

“The house-elves made a treacle tart today, Dobby is very good at it.” He took a piece from his pocket and handed it to the boy. “I thought you might like to try it.” 

Harry approached cautiously, only to violently snatch the piece of cake from his hands. He sniffed it and took it straight into his mouth in one bite. 

“Oh! What are you doing?” Draco shrieked in disgust. “Didn’t anyone teach you good manners?”

The other boy didn't even look at him, too intent on licking his fingers. Then, suddenly, he jumped on Draco, who squealed in a very manly way, trying to check if he still had some tart hidden behind his back.

“It’s over! Not anymore!” he protested sternly, pushing Harry’s body away from him. “You look like you’ve never had a cake in your life…” 

"Sweet" 

“Yes, yes, sweet.” Draco dusted off his robes, smoothing out the creases. “Now let’s start the lesson, you hungry beast.”

If from that day different sweet started disappearing from breakfast every morning... well, it certainly wasn't Draco's fault. 

After a whole month, Draco finally decided to answer his friends' letters. Things had calmed down, at least a little, and he no longer had the constant feeling of having a wand pointed at his neck, ready to cast a killing curse.

Pansy was beside herself with worry and had to write her four full parchments to calm her down. Blaise was no exception, although he was able to hide it better. 

He didn't like lying and he felt terribly guilty, but he couldn't really tell them the truth. He told them that Voldemort had taken complete possession of his house, along with his followers, and that with his family so involved it was hard to think of anything else. He told them not to worry about him, that they would see each other safe and sound in a month at Kings Kross Station. It wasn't a complete lie, after all. 

His days were now very monotonous, marked by a rigid and suffocating routine, without ever a different day. 

Every morning after breakfast he stayed with Harry until lunchtime, then they separated and Draco spent the rest of the hours until dinner locked in the library, desperately searching for new teaching methods. Unfortunately, apart from the few Muggle approaches he had found, there was not much else.

Until, one weekend, the turning point, he finally found something useful. 

He discovered a spell, centuries old and then forgotten. It was not complex and, ironically, it had been right before his eyes all this time as he despaired every afternoon. He almost cried with joy when he found it.

The charm actually only helped with reading: once cast, it allowed the person reading to automatically translate the text into their native language. Unfortunately, it had no effect on spoken language, but having a way to communicate with Harry would have been a big help anyway. 

He spent the entire night perfecting the spell, only going to sleep when the first light of dawn began to filter through the window. There was no evidence in the book that it worked with Parseltongue, and the whole thing might turn out to be a big failure, but he preferred not to think about that eventuality. 

Not even an hour after he closed his eyes, his wand vibrated, jolting him awake. He had to hurry or he would be late for breakfast. 

He took a cold shower to try to chase away the sleep, slipped into one of his expensive suits and headed for the breakfast room, where Narcissa was already waiting for him.

“Good morning, my dragon,” his mother greeted him sweetly. 

“Good morning, Mom,” he replied as he took a seat and began pouring himself some juice. He noticed that the seat at the head of the table was strangely empty. “Where’s Father?”

"Work, he was called to solve some problem" she replied "something about the incorrect registration of some mudbloods in the register, they suspect there may be a spy among the officials of the ministry"

Draco didn't need any further explanation, he knew exactly how his father would solve the problem. He suspected that by the end of the day the spy would no longer cause any concern. 

They ate in silence, each immersed in their own thoughts. 

It was only when Narcissa finally stood up, taking her leave and closing the door behind her, that Draco reached out for a small piece of jam tart and a few biscuits, carefully wrapping them in a napkin. 

However, he didn't notice the door reopening again. 

“What are you doing?” Narcissa had returned, catching Draco red-handed. 

“Who is that food for? Tell me it’s not who I think it’s for,” she pressed. 

Draco didn't answer.

“Why are you doing this?” she was right next to him now, her voice lower.

“Why won’t you feed him?” Draco retorted, his jaw clenched.

“How the Dark Lord looks after Harry is none of our business, remember,” he replied harshly.

“He’s not taking care of him!” Draco exploded. “That boy’s locked in a room, he can barely speak, and just because I’m teaching him, I don’t think he’s ever tasted real food!”

“No, you're right, he didn't,” Narcissa murmured, looking down.

"What?" Draco's eyes widened.

«It is fed by the house-elves with nutritious potions and porridges, nothing more»

"But... why?" He felt his breath catch.

“The Dark Lord is not the best example of fatherhood, is he?” Narcissa sighed, stroking his cheek affectionately. “But Draco, as much as I feel sorry for the boy, and believe me, I do, we cannot afford to grow attached. We must maintain a certain distance from him, I am sure you can understand.”

Frustrated, Draco nearly stomped his foot like he did when he was little.

"Do what the Dark Lord tells you and nothing more. This is bigger than you, do not interfere with his plans" she said sternly tightening her grip on his cheek "understand?"

Reluctantly, Draco nodded. 

But when he entered Harry's room that day, he handed him a bundle of biscuits and a nice slice of pie. It was all gone in a matter of seconds.

It was too late. He had already grown fond of him.

Once he had finished eating, Draco practically snatched the handkerchief from Harry's hands as he tried to lick it up every last crumb.

“A hungry hippogriff would have more control than you!” he exclaimed amusedly, pushing the piece of cloth away from his reach.

Harry hissed in protest, reaching out to try and grab it again.

Draco stopped him, grabbing his wrist. He felt the warm skin beneath his fingers and noticed how bony the boy was. The realization made him feel unexplainably uncomfortable, so he loosened his grip.

«Today I want to try something new.»

The other looked at him, a little confused and pouting. “Sweets!”

Merlin, Harry was worse than a child with chocolate frogs. Soon he would have to start bringing him something salty, too, just to stop him from becoming a little snake addicted to sugar.

“Tomorrow,” the promise seemed to calm him, at least for the moment. “Now I’d like to do something, may I?” He already had his wand in his hand and was twirling it between his fingers.

Harry just stared at him sullenly, his lips still a little smeared with jam. 

Draco rolled his eyes, a child. 

Without wasting any more time, he reached across the table and wrote a sentence on the parchment, then pointed his wand at Harry, and praying to Morgana that it would work, he cast the spell. 

If this thing works tomorrow I'll bring you the melasses cake

Nothing of note happened, not that he expected anything different. Harry certainly wasn't going to jump up and recite the entire history of magic book in perfect English.

“Come on, read this,” Draco urged, pointing to the parchment. 

He saw Harry lean towards the parchment, his eyes half closed, and after a few seconds his whole body vibrated. “Melasss!”

It worked, the spell worked! 

He immediately began writing more and more sentences on the parchment, watching Harry read them and respond as best he could.

Draco vibrated on the edge of the couch with excitement. It was possible, then. He could teach him to speak, to understand, to communicate. 

From that moment a great weight was lifted from Draco's shoulders. 

By the end of August they had made more progress than ever before: Harry was now able to carry out and truly understand the conversions. 

He was still crude and imperfect, with a very simple vocabulary, but now he seemed more like a stranger newly arrived in England than an amoeba incapable of understanding and willing. 

Draco was very proud of it. 

Of course he could have achieved the same results without the spell, but he would never have succeeded by the end of the summer, as the Dark Lord required.  

The morning before he left for Hogwarts, Draco felt unexpectedly uncomfortable. He hadn't thought that saying goodbye to the boy would be difficult. 

Yet, as he walked down the corridors towards his room with the usual basket full of delicacies stolen from breakfast, he felt his chest tightening in an invisible grip.

He pushed open the door and, as always, Harry whirled around to face him, dropping whatever he was doing, his eyes instantly lighting up.

“Food?” Harry asked him immediately.

Draco burst out laughing. “You don’t even say hello to me anymore?”

Harry snorted petulantly "Food first"

He pointed to a bowl sitting on the desk, an unappealing-looking jumble of protein mush that the house-elves brought every day.

"Yuck" 

Draco promptly made the bowl disappear with a wave of his wand. He couldn't risk anyone finding out that Harry wasn't eating the stuff anymore.

“Sure, when do I ever forget to bring you food? I wouldn’t want you to starve.” Draco sat down in what was now his spot on the sofa and set the basket on the coffee table, taking out all the food, which Harry didn’t hesitate to dive into.  

Draco watched him silently for a few seconds before speaking.

"Harry, I have to tell you something."

Harry just stared at him for a few seconds before returning to his goal of stuffing as much food into his mouth as possible.

«I'll go back to school tomorrow-

Harry stopped chewing and interrupted, “What is school?”

Sometimes Draco forgot that he didn't know the basics like Hogwarts.

“A place where you learn magic,” he explained calmly. “I go to school to learn, a bit like when you have training sessions with the Dark Lord.”

Harry seemed to think about it before shrugging. “Okay,” he replied, going back to eating.

Draco smiled fondly.

“Yeah, I was saying... I'm going back to school tomorrow, and I'll have to stay there until at least mid-December, so we can't see each other.” The last part finally seemed to have caught his attention. He frowned and looked up. 

"Why?" 

“Because I’ll be at school,” he repeated patiently.

“Stay here,” Harry continued petulantly. 

“I can’t.” Draco shook his head.

Harry just didn't want to give up. "I ask master teach you! No school!"

Not even in his worst nightmares did he want to spend the whole year with Voldemort as his teacher. Snape could be really annoying, but he would have chosen him any time. 

“I don't like having to part from you either,” he admitted honestly, “but I just can't stay at home, I have to finish my studies at Hogwarts.”

Harry's face lit up with another idea. "I go with you?" 

Draco laughed. “I don’t think the Dark Lord would like that, no, I think it’s best if you stay here. We’ll see each other in December though, come on.” 

He didn't have the courage to tell him the truth, because once the lessons were finished, Draco didn't think he could visit Harry again. 

Harry didn't look convinced either and hissed something in Parseltongue that Draco didn't understand. "What did you say?"

"Nothing"

He didn't believe it, but he didn't insist further. 

Shortly after, much earlier than usual, Draco got up to leave.

He was about to close the door behind him, probably forever, when Harry grabbed his hand, making him turn around abruptly.

"Bye, Draco, miss you." 

His voice was clearer and more confident than usual, free of the uncertain hisses that often accompanied his words.

Draco felt his heart sink.

Oh, he would miss that boy. If only Pansy and Blaise could see him now, they would never stop teasing him. 

"Bye Harry, it was so nice spending the summer with you."

And then before he could do or say anything else Harry hugged him. 

Shortly after he finished packing and putting away his things in his Hogwarts trunk, Draco was summoned.

From the Dark Lord himself. 

Kneeling before him, he felt his insides turning in his stomach.

He thought his task was done. He thought he was finally free from the task assigned to him.

But he was wrong. He was very wrong.

“I’m fed up with Dumbledore,” said Voldemort, pacing slowly around him. “I think it’s time to get him out of the way.”

“How can I help you, my lord?” he murmured, his voice shaking, he hoped it wasn’t too obvious.

“I am making a plan to get my Death Eaters into Hogwarts,” he continued with venomous calm. “If all goes according to plan, Albus Dumbledore will no longer be a problem by the end of the year.”

Draco's breath caught in his throat.

Voldemort paused, then tilted his head, just as Harry did, a cold smile on his lips.

"I'm counting on you, Draco."

"It will be an honor to serve you, my lord." 

“But don’t worry, I’m not so naive as to entrust a task of this importance to a brat,” the Dark Lord added contemptuously.

Draco felt himself sinking.

"Harry will be by your side"

The frost enveloped him.

He slowly looked up, his heart pounding in his chest.

Harry? At Hogwarts?

What did it mean?

Voldemort smiled.

“Oh yes, Draco… You won’t be alone.”