Harry Potter was not having a good day. His best friends thought that he had entered himself into a tournament he had no wish to participate in, he was behind on his homework, and, the cherry on top of his colossally bad morning, his knapsack had ripped, causing parchment, books, and inkwells to scatter across the hallway.

"He went this way!"

Harry watched in surprise and some trepidation as some of the rather rougher looking members of the Durmstrang student group marched down the hall, looking around angrily.

"Has to be around here somewhere.." one of them muttered to themselves. Harry stooped down to pick up his papers, ignoring the foreign boys who passed him without a word, silently wondering what they were up to.

"Not anything good" Harry muttered to himself as they turned the corner, and was startled by the sound of a faint whimper in response to his comment. His head whipped up at the sound, and he was completely gob smacked by the sight of what appeared to be a hysterical and utterly terrified Draco Malfoy cowering in the shallow crevice behind a suit of armor.

"Wha.." Harry muttered, taking stock of Malfoy. His clothing was disheveled, his lip was bloody, and his eyes were wild.

"Malfoy...are you alright?" Harry questioned softly. Malfoy's eyes locked on his and another terrified whimper escaped him as he attempted to shove himself deeper in the crevice.

"Malfoy?" Looking at the tears gathering in the blond's eyes, something in Harry's heart broke for him. Something bad had obviously happened, and no matter how they felt about one another, Malfoy needed help.

"Draco?" Harry tried again to get Malfoy's attention, hoping the name change would help. Draco's head snapped towards him, confusion warring with the terror in his eyes.

"Draco, you need help, let me help you," Harry cajoled soothingly, holding a hand out to Draco. After ten minutes of gentle pleas, the blond suddenly launched himself into Harry's arms, sobbing quietly, but fiercely.

Harry ran a soothing hand down Draco's back, shushing him. "Shhh, it'll be ok Draco, I won't let anyone hurt you," he whispered to Draco over and over, as the blond gradually calmed.

"I need to get you somewhere safe..." Harry murmured to himself, "perhaps the headmaster...or madam Pomphrey.." Draco shook his head frantically at the mentioned names, terror creeping back into his eyes.

"Shhh," Harry hushed him gently, still running his hand over the Slytherin's back reassuringly.

"Where do you want to go then, hmm?" Harry questioned softly, and Draco bit his lip, then winced in pain.

"S-S-Sev," Draco stuttered out, burying his face in Harry's robe clad shoulder. Harry winced, but nodded his accent.

"Alright then, Snape's office it is."

And with that statement, Harry called out softly for Dobby. Dobby appeared with a pop and his usual enthusiasm, practically bouncing on the balls of his mismatched stocking feet, but went deathly still as he took stock of Harry and Draco.

"Dobby," Harry said softly, "I need for you to gather my things, and any things Draco might have, and meet us in Professor Snape's office—can you do that?"

"Yes," Dobby said quietly, a look of fierce determination on his face, "Dobby is doing this. Dobby is to be meeting you there."

Harry rose with a grateful nod to Dobby and set off for Snape's office, a trembling blond safely ensconced in his arms and clinging for dear life.

OoOoOoO

Harry knocked tentatively but received no answer from Snape's office. He opened his mouth to ask Draco where else he might want to go, but a quietly whispered password from the still shaking Slytherin had the door swinging open before Harry could utter a word.

Harry entered the room and Dobby popped in beside him. The little elf frowned, and with out a word transfigured the chair in front of Snape's desk into a comfortable looking couch which Harry sank onto gratefully, Draco still clutched tightly in his arms.

Dobby settled Harry and Dracos' bags next to the couch and nodded to himself.

"Dobby is to be bringing you some food now," the elf said and popped out.

"I do believe that is the quietest I've ever seen Dobby.." Harry murmured in Draco's ear, but Draco didn't respond, instead settling himself more comfortably in Harry's arms.

Dobby popped back in with a tray of sandwiches, two mugs of soup, and two glasses of pumpkin juice. Harry smiled at Dobby as he transfigured the other chair in front of Snape's desk into a small table and set the food on it. Dobby gave him a nod in return.

"You is to be calling for Dobby if you be needing anything," The little elf said, and, with a tug of his ears, dissapparated again.

"Draco," Harry said quietly, "you need to eat something." The blond eyed Harry, but allowed himself to be arranged in a sitting position and fed small bites of sandwich. After he had consumed an entire sandwich and half a cup of soup, he silently turned his face away and settled back against Harry, blinking sleepily.

"Take a nap," Harry suggested, "I'll wake you when Snape gets here." Draco gave Harry a dubious look, but obligingly settled down and closed his eyes. He was asleep with ten minutes, clutching a fistful of Harry's robes and snoring softly, which made Harry smile slightly.

He wasn't sure exactly how he ended up in this situation, taking care of a sleeping Draco Malfoy, of all people, but he certainly wasn't going to abandon the blond now.

Harry softly called for Dobby, who popped back in. Harry explained what he wanted, and a few moments later Harry's charms book hovered in front of him, a simple wand flick turning the pages.

Draco slept through the afternoon and most of the evening. When dinner time came, Dobby brought them more sandwiches and soup, as well as some tea and biscuits. Harry gently woke Draco, who looked at him grumpily, but complied with Harry's request that he eat something.

After consuming another sandwich and a whole cup of soup, Draco's eyes began to droop again, so Harry settled him back onto his lap and watched the blond quickly drift back off.

OoOoOo

Nearly eight hours after Harry and Draco had entered, Snape stormed into his office, looking extremely troubled, only to stop dead with an utterly gob smacked expression on his face. His godson, whom he had just spent the last 6 hours frantically searching for, was sleeping peacefully on a couch in his office, using Potter, of all people, as a pillow.

The aforementioned Potter glanced up from his floating Herbology book and gave him a nod of acknowledgement.

"Good evening professor," Potter said quietly.

"Potter. Explain."