Chapter 1
It was a blistering hot day as Harry Potter stood near the steps of Number 12, Grimmauld Place, shifting his weight from foot to foot. His hands were tucked into his pockets, trying to calm the unease swirling in his chest. He glanced sideways at Draco, who was standing beside him, staring at the decrepit house with the same aloof expression he always wore in public. But Harry could tell that his boyfriend was holding back a storm of emotions.
Draco hadn’t said much since they’d left King’s Cross Station. He hadn’t even responded to Harry’s attempts to make light conversation on the train. But that wasn’t surprising. Lucius Malfoy had been furious when Draco told him he wasn’t coming home for the summer, and Narcissa—well, she had only whispered something to Draco before giving him one of those tight-lipped smiles that made Harry’s skin crawl. Whatever she had said had left Draco unusually quiet and tense.
Harry gently bumped his shoulder against Draco’s. “You okay?” he asked, voice soft enough that no one passing by could hear.
Draco didn’t look at him. His fingers tightened around the handle of his trunk. “Of course, Potter. Why wouldn’t I be?” His voice was colder than Harry had hoped.
Harry frowned but didn’t press. He knew Draco’s mood could be unpredictable when it came to his family, and now wasn’t the time to push him. They’d talk later.
With a deep breath, Harry turned back to the house. “Ready?” he asked.
Draco finally looked at him, silver eyes filled with a glint of something unreadable. “More ready than you are, I’d wager,” he muttered, raising a pale eyebrow.
Harry grinned despite himself. “Let’s go then.”
With a quick tap of the door, it creaked open, and the two boys stepped into the gloomy entrance of Grimmauld Place. Immediately, the musty smell of old books and damp wood filled Harry’s senses. He knew the place was dark and dreary, but it had started to feel like something close to home—especially with Sirius there.
Draco, however, wrinkled his nose in distaste. “Lovely place you’ve brought me to, Potter. Truly charming.”
Harry rolled his eyes. “It’s better than where you were going, isn’t it?”
Draco stiffened at the reminder of Malfoy Manor. His grip on his trunk tightened again, but he didn’t respond. Harry sighed, feeling a knot of frustration form in his chest. He wanted to help Draco, to make him feel safe, but it was hard when Draco kept everything bottled up behind that cold exterior.
They were just about to head upstairs when a familiar voice called from the kitchen.
“Harry!”
Sirius Black appeared at the end of the hallway, grinning from ear to ear. His long hair was wild, and he looked more energetic than Harry had ever seen him. Remus Lupin was right behind him, smiling warmly.
“You’re here!” Sirius said, clapping Harry on the back before turning his attention to Draco, who stood awkwardly beside his trunk. “And you must be Draco.”
Draco, ever the proud Malfoy, lifted his chin. “I am,” he said coolly, but Harry could sense the tension rolling off him.
“Welcome,” Remus said kindly, stepping forward to shake Draco’s hand. “We’re glad to have you both for the summer. Make yourselves at home.”
Draco eyed the dark interior warily. “Home. Right,” he muttered under his breath, though he accepted the handshake with more grace than Harry had expected.
Sirius shot Harry a meaningful look, then smiled at Draco. “It’s not Malfoy Manor, but it’s a damn sight better than Azkaban, so I suppose that’s something.” His tone was light, but there was an edge to it, and Harry couldn’t help but glance nervously between his godfather and his boyfriend.
Draco’s face darkened. “I’m not here by choice, Black,” he snapped, his voice laced with irritation. “So forgive me if I’m not leaping with joy at the sight of your charming ancestral home.”
Sirius opened his mouth to respond, but Harry quickly stepped between them. “Right! Well, I’m starving. How about we get something to eat?” He shot Sirius a look that clearly said, Not now, and, thankfully, his godfather relented.
“Fine,” Sirius muttered. “Come on then. I’m sure Kreacher’s ruined dinner, but we’ll see what we can salvage.”
Draco, however, was far from done. “Honestly, Potter,” he hissed as they followed Sirius and Remus toward the kitchen, “I don’t know why you brought me to this—this dump. I’d have been better off anywhere else.”
Harry’s patience snapped. He grabbed Draco’s arm and pulled him to a stop just before they reached the kitchen door. “You think I wanted this?” he whispered fiercely, trying to keep his voice low. “I’m trying to help you, Draco. Your father’s—he’s—” Harry struggled to find the right words, his anger and frustration boiling over. “He’s dangerous. You know that. And you weren’t safe there. Not with him.”
Draco glared at him, his cheeks flushing with anger. “I don’t need you to save me, Potter. I don’t need anyone’s help.”
“That’s not true!” Harry argued, his grip tightening on Draco’s arm. “Why can’t you just admit that things are bad with your parents? Why do you have to act like you’re fine all the time?”
Draco’s face twisted with fury, and suddenly, the words started spilling out of him, rapid and harsh in a language Harry didn’t understand.
“Tu ne comprends rien! Je ne peux pas simplement fuir ma famille! Ils m’attendent, Potter, et tu n’as aucune idée de ce que c’est!”
Harry blinked, taken aback. “Wait—what?”
Draco froze, realizing what he had done. His eyes widened, and for the first time since they had arrived, his cool mask slipped completely. He looked vulnerable, panicked even.
“I—I didn’t mean to—”
Harry held up his hands. “No, it’s fine, just—what were you saying? You—um—switched to French, I think.”
Draco’s face flushed deeper, and he shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. Just forget it.”
“Draco—”
“I said, you don’t understand,” Draco spat, the words clipped and bitter. “I can’t just run away from my family. They expect things from me, Potter, things I can’t ignore.”
Harry stared at him, his heart breaking a little at the desperation in Draco’s voice. “You don’t have to do what they want,” he said softly. “You don’t have to be like them.”
Draco looked away, his jaw clenched tightly. “You don’t get it,” he muttered. “You’ll never get it.”