Desperation

Volume I: To Escape

Chapter One: Away

The badly scuffed toes of his sneakers were right on the edge of the pool of shadow, but Harry was too afraid of making any noise to attempt to scoot back further. As it was, the boy's back was pressed as tightly to the brick as he could get it, so it was unlikely that any kind of adjustment would hide him any better. And hide was exactly what he was trying so hard to do. School had let out only ten minutes prior and he had spent every second of it trying to avoid the latest round of Harry-Hunting. The seven-year-old was having mixed success. For all that he was much quicker and more agile than his cousin, the larger boy's numerous friends did not even things out in Harry's favor. Those numbers had led to his current predicament, pinned in between Dudley and Gordon to his right, and Piers and Malcolm on his left.

The dark-haired boy could hear both groups discussing the likeliest place for their quarry to be hiding. The sound of one of them suggesting they look behind the dumpsters, which were less than a meter away from his actual hiding spot, was less concerning for him than the fact that he couldn't hear Dennis at all. Which meant there was a member of Dudley's gang unaccounted for. That was not usually a good sign for Harry, as it often meant that there was someone sneaking up behind him.

Even with the solid wall at his back, Harry had to resist the urge to look over his shoulder and instead examined his surroundings for a possible escape route. The number of times – which coincidently was the same as the number of days he and Dudley had attended this school – that he had been hunted throughout the school grounds meant that he had become fairly familiar with the layout of such routes. He had exactly three options, two of which were in the direction of one group or another of Dudley's gang, and one, which cut through the large open football pitch.

Before the young orphan had a chance to consider which option to risk, a cry of "there's the freak!" was heard, forcing the scared boy from his hiding spot and out into the open as two of the three routes were filled with larger boys racing towards him. Each of those boys were holding a stick or other object, and Harry knew very well what they were for. He still had the bruises and cuts from the sticks they had used in the last few rounds of Harry-Hunting over the weekend.

Panic at the thought of yet more of the same had the skinny little boy sprinting all-out across the green field without any consideration for the pain he'd been having in his leg since Saturday's Harry-Hunt. Maybe if he could reach the school kitchen there might be some adults around. Dudley and the others might hesitate to attack him in front of adults other than their parents. The cries of his pursuers were closing fast as the two groups came at him from either side. If he spared the second to turn and look he was certain his cousin would be a ways behind his faster, if not less violent, friends. He daren't spare even that long, however, and continued to watch in front of him for any obstacles in his path to temporary freedom.

The fear and desperation nearly choked him as he felt a hand just barely miss the trailing edge of his oversized shirt. For a split second his eyes landed on the roof of the building still a few meters away and he briefly wished he were on top of it, too high for any of the other boys to reach. It suddenly felt like he was being pushed in from all sides but the sensation ended as the thought fled, replaced by an even more desperate hope to be away. As high as the roof was, he would eventually have to come down and the Hunting would start all over again. But if he were away, away from Little Whinging and away from Privet Drive, and away from the Dursleys, then he would be safe.

If only, if only he could be away. As he cleared the pitch and felt his aching feet slamming against the pavement of the car park, Harry wanted to be away more than absolutely anything else. Away. The word rang in his head and the pressing sensation returned, feeling almost like he was being forced through a small pipe. His empty stomach seemed to drop out of him and spin him around at the same time. The strange feeling stole his breath and he was sure he'd been caught. Vivid green eyes squeezed shut against the expected feeling of a sudden sharp yank on his shirt from one or another of his tormentors.

But instead of his knees making painful contact with the pavement as he was yanked off his feet and into the hands of the four malicious boys, Harry Potter found himself suddenly sprawled on soft green grass. Still, he braced himself against the blows that were sure to follow, even as he wondered how he had gotten back on the pitch. When the attack failed to come, he dared a quick glance upwards, skinny shoulders still hunched forward and hands still raised to protect his head. The bullies were no where in sight, however. And neither was anyone else.

All he could see was green. A large hedge rose before him, a wall of green to match the lush grass underneath him. But there were no hedges that tall on the school grounds, there were no hedges at all near the football pitch, where the grass was far more yellow and patchy than what he was laying on at present. This was not the pitch. This was not Little Whinging Primary School. Harry's breath began to come fast and shallow, making it impossible to catch his breath as one word began to echo again in his thoughts. Away. He was away.

The small boy struggled to his feet and looked frantically around himself in every direction, the word growing louder and louder in his head as every new sight confirmed what he had so desperately wanted but never thought he would have. He was away. He was safe. No Little Whinging, no Privet Drive, no Dudley's gang, no Dursleys. After several moments Harry finally managed to convince his arms to lower to his sides and his breath to slow and calm, at least somewhat. A part of him couldn't believe this was happening.

Strange, freaky things happened around him, he knew. The Dursleys never failed to point out when anything the least bit unexpected happened around him and explain in excruciating and loud detail how wrong that was. But nothing like this had ever happened before. No matter how many times he had fallen asleep in his cupboard wishing he would wake up somewhere – anywhere – else, it had never happened. Even his dreams of being in another house with another family, one where he was actually wanted, had always been indistinct. There had never been edges to his dream world, only blurry shadows darkened with tears and desperation. But this was clear.

The lines of the hedges on either side of him were sharp and straight. The green walls even formed a perfect corner several feet behind him where they turned to head off in another direction like the hallway that led from his classroom to the front door of the primary school. But instead of echoing taunts from the other children he'd heard as he traversed those halls, this place was quiet, only the sound of a bird some ways off penetrated the leafy walls. At least at first.

It was only a few minutes after his arrival, when he had worked up the courage to turn one of that green corner to see where it led that Harry heard a voice. It was coming from ahead of him, where the hedge walls opened into what looked from his angle like a vast box of green with a grassy bottom, leafy sides and a lid of blue sky. The small boy froze, then shrank back against the hedge wall in an effort to remain unseen. In the brief glimpse he had caught, he was able to tell that the sound was coming from a blond boy sitting inside another green shape in the center of the larger hedge box.

The sight did little to reassure him. He knew the danger posed by adults, especially when he'd done something strange or ended up where he shouldn't, but he had also learned well the danger that could come from a boy his age. Many of the injuries he had suffered over the years were a result of the games his cousin liked to play and they rarely hurt less than the lessons his uncle and aunt had to pound into him. Harry's attempt to remain undetected was not successful, as the other boy seemed to catch sight of the movement and come immediately to his feet.

"What is it, Wobbly? I'm playing!" The annoyed voice rang through the quiet afternoon, and the brunette covered his mouth with one hand to muffle his breaths and stayed as still as he could.

"Wobbly?" the blond called again. The word was spoken on a huff of breath and was accompanied by the sound of movement from around the corner. Only a moment passed before another call came, this one even closer to where Harry was doing his best to blend in with the leaves at his back. "Who's there?

The words sounded less irritated but still left the small boy wondering if he should try to make it back to the corner at the other end of the verdant hall. Before he had a chance to try and escape, the blond suddenly appeared with a startled and not very happy "who are you?" as soon as he was within sight of the dark-haired boy.

Harry had gotten very good at recognizing many types of anger and disdain so as to better anticipate the harsh and usually painful consequences they would bring. The tall boy before him was showing neither of those familiar emotions as he eyed the interloper up and down with a sneer. But shock and annoyance, the brunette had long ago learned, could herald their own less than pleasant, and sometimes humiliating, effects. Harry didn't dare speak. Trying to defend himself when he had done something freakish never got him anything but an extra dressing down or even another smack. And he knew he'd done something even more freakish than normal.

He could feel the tremors starting in his arms and legs and held his body as rigidly as possible even as he hunched in on himself, ready to fend off the first blow. Normal boys didn't close their eyes in the car park and open them seconds later somewhere completely new. But he was away, he wasn't with the Dursleys anymore. Maybe being a freak wasn't as bad here as it had been there. The small bubble of hope that grew inside him at the thought left him feeling just a little sick to his stomach.

A loud sigh showed that the other boy was tired of waiting for a response and repeated his question impatiently. "Who are you and what are you doing here? How did you get into the maze? Did my father bring you here?"

Harry forced himself to give a slight shake of his head. "I-" fear choked him for just a second at the almost mean look on the boy's face when he didn't answer right away. What if he was like Dudley? What if he told him what happened and the blond got mad at him for doing something so freakish? What if he hated him? What if he hurt him?

"Well?" the word was drawn out somewhat with another sneer.

The scrawny boy tried again, hoping as hard as he could that away really was somewhere being such a freak wouldn't earn him a beating. "I'm Harry."

The response only earned him a raised brow, or rather two, though Harry was pretty sure the other boy had only meant to raise one. He'd seen people on the telly through the slats in his cupboard door do that when they were unhappy or didn't believe something they were being told. In an attempt to satisfy the blond, he did his best to answer the boy's other questions.

"I-I don't know how I got here. I was-" as soon as he thought about it he could hear the pounding of chasing feet, the cries of Dudley's gang as they drew closer and closer behind him. "I was at school and, and then I- I was here. I didn't mean to, really, I just, I just wanted to be away and-and then I was."

The stuttered explanation must have made more sense to the blond than it did to Harry because he nodded knowingly. "Accidental magic."

Magic. The word was too loud in his ears, an echo of the times he had heard it screamed in his face, all the times the Dursleys had tried to tell him how horrible and freakish such a thing was. Magic wasn't real, he knew, it was just something stupid worthless freaks called the horrible freakish things they did. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon had told him that many times. Even saying the word earned him a beating. If he actually did magic, ohh, that would be bad, he thought as he felt the shaking worsen as he frantically shook his head. "No! No, I didn't do magic, I didn't! I swear. Please. Please, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. Please."

The blond reared back at the first shout, his grey eyes widening as he watched the smaller boy start to shake in his huge ugly clothes. He instinctually raised his hands in a placating gesture but as soon as they started to move, the brunette folded in on himself, crouching in a ball on the grass and covering his head with both hands. Unsure of exactly what to do but unable to do nothing, the blond kneeled down next to the shivering form. He thought frantically for a moment before he remembered the name the other boy had given. "Harry. Harry!"

The boy jerked slightly, then quieted, though it took another repetition of the name to get him to look up tentatively through his unruly fringe. A moment's silence hung between them before the blond sighed. "Look, everything is fine, alright? You don't have to get upset, we can-"

The taller boy broke off, not entirely sure what to say and instead falling back on the manners his mother had taught him soon after he started to talk. Slowly, he held out one pale hand towards the still cowering boy and introduced himself calmly. "My name is Draco Malfoy, it is a pleasure to meet you."

Green eyes flicked uneasily between the blond's face and hand before hesitantly unwrapping a single arm from around his head to gingerly shake the hand being held out to him. "Hi Draco. Nice to meet you. I'm Harry Potter."

The warm hand in his froze mid-shake and Harry snatched his hand away, bringing it back up to his head. Maybe Draco had heard of him. Maybe his parents knew Aunt Petunia or Uncle Vernon and they'd heard all about what a terrible, worthless, ungrateful freak he was. Now he was in for it.

But no blow came, nor any yelling or look of disgust. The blond didn't even move away from him, just knelt with his hand still extended and stared at him.

"You're Harry Potter?" he asked in a tone that implied he didn't quite believe what he'd been told as grey eyes swept over the hallow-cheeked face.

The Dursleys, as a rule, never believed he was being truthful and had convinced most of his teachers so far that he was a liar, but no one had ever doubted his name before. It always bothered Harry that people thought he was lying when he was telling the truth and the Dursleys were the ones lying. The idea that this boy he'd never met thought he would lie about his name of all things replaced some of his fear with indignant anger.

He lowered his arms away from his head and glared up at the blond. He started to tell the other boy that of course he was Harry Potter, who else would he be? But as he did so a gust of wind sifted his messy black fringe just a little across his forehead and Draco let out a gasp.

"You're Harry Potter!" he said again, this time with an excited grin that Harry found to be quite odd. Green eyes narrowed and he looked at the boy as if unsure what was happening. "Merlin! You're Harry Potter!"

Draco had a hard time not jumping up and down as he thought about the fact that Harry Potter, the real Harry Potter, had apparently accidentally Apparated himself onto the Malfoy property. Though the smaller boy sure had gotten upset at the idea of what he'd done, shouting and swearing that he hadn't done magic. Which was awfully strange, the Malfoy heir thought. Performing accidental magic strong enough to not only Apparate, but to do so through the type of wards on the Manor lands showed how powerful the famous child would surely be as a grown up. Mother and Father would be so proud of him if he managed something like that. Mother and Father. He couldn't wait to tell them that Harry Potter – Harry Potter – was there.

Draco wasn't old enough to participate in the lengthy after dinner discussions held by his parents and on occasion, his Godfather, but he had been allowed to listen a few times. He had listened extra closely when Harry Potter was mentioned. He'd been hearing stories about the Boy-Who-Lived for as long as he could remember. His mother still told him bedtime tales about the famous boy and how such a powerful and influential figure would make the perfect kind of friend for the heir to the House of Malfoy.

She and Father both had said that Potter may be the only friend he could ever make that would be a true equal to him socially and politically. The House of Potter, through the House of Peverell, was the only other surviving Most Ancient and Noble House since the imprisonment of the last Black heir. Not to mention that the Boy-Who-Lived was the only person who could ever hope to protect the House of Malfoy from what would come. Draco wasn't exactly sure what that meant, but he had heard his parents both say it so it must be true. He'd thought he'd have to wait until school started to meet the famous boy but now he didn't.

The blond simply couldn't wait to play with him, and be best friends, and grow up to be the two most powerful wizards ever. They'd rule the Hogwarts dungeons and everyone would look up to them and they'd be very best friends always and have so much fun. Not that he didn't have fun with other kids sometimes, there were several families his parents socialized with that had children his age. But those kids only came because they wanted to be invited to Malfoy Manor and because it was, according to Mother, 'advantageous for a House to interact with those better positioned than themselves.' Draco knew what that meant, it meant they only played with him because he was the Malfoy heir. They weren't really his friends, not like Harry Potter would be.

Draco had wanted to be friends with Harry Potter since the very first story he'd ever heard, about the night he survived the Killing Curse because his mother loved him and his parents had died in order to save him. Potter knew how important family was and that the survival of one's House and family was more important than anything else. Malfoys valued family above all, and the Boy-Who-Lived was probably the only other person who could understand that. He so badly wanted a best friend, one who understood him and who would not only be able to treat him as an equal, but whom he could treat as an equal as well.

It didn't look like he was off to the best start, though, the blond observed as the other boy continued to stare up at him from his position on the ground. He had only been receiving his comportment lessons formally for a year, but Draco knew you never left a guest outside on the ground, especially such an important one. No matter how much he wanted to play with Harry right away, the proper thing to do was to escort him inside, and introduce him to Mother and Father, and offer him tea. And maybe a change of clothing, he thought to himself as he convinced his new friend to let him help him to his feet.

"This is the hedge maze," Draco explained as he herded the smaller boy into the center of the maze where he had been playing before he arrived. The maze was the most protected place on the grounds, outside of the Manor, anyway. Generations and generations of Malfoys had woven protective spells and wards and illusionment charms into the hedges. Some spells had even been placed on the seeds themselves.

"That's my fort," he pointed to the hedge gazebo as they passed it to take the path that would lead them out, "it's in the very center of the maze and it's one of the very best places to play on the whole grounds. I'll show you inside later and we can make another throne for you to sit on when we play castle and dragons."

They were almost out of the large maze when Draco realized that Harry was having trouble keeping up with him as he tugged him enthusiastically along. The blond did his best to slow down but he was just so exited to bring his new friend to the Manor that he had a rather hard time of it. When the brunette fell behind and started limping, Draco finally managed to keep pace with the smaller boy, concern dampening his excitement.

"What's wrong?"

Harry ducked his head, the messy fringe falling to hide his eyes. "Nothing," he mumbled quietly.

"Yes there is. You're limping," the taller boy stated confidently, even as he eyed Harry with confusion. Why someone would claim there was nothing wrong when they were clearly hurt made no sense to the Malfoy heir. He always told his parents or one of the house elves when he got hurt so they could fix it immediately. Draco truly hated being hurt. Father said he had a low threshold for pain, whatever that meant. Obviously it wasn't something the other boy possessed however, as he responded to the comment with hunched shoulders and the apparent attempt to quicken his uneven steps.

"Sorry," he muttered on a quick upward glance.

Now the blond was even more confused. "Why?"

The question seemed to make Harry equally bewildered, but the brunette stayed silent on the off chance pointing out how he was slowing them down would remind him to be angry like Aunt Petunia always got when he was moving too slow cleaning or carrying her grocery bags to the house. The lack of an answer didn't seem to bother the other boy, who began pointing out different plants and animals as they made their way through a garden. The flowerbeds were perfectly neat and tidy and each bed was surrounded by its own tiny hedge amongst the perfectly cut grass.

Harry hated working in the garden at Number Four, it was always either so cold and wet that he ached, or so hot that he got tired and sore and sunburned no matter what the chore was. He cringed at the thought of having to keep these gardens looking so nice. The brunette bit his lower lip, hoping that he wouldn't be expected to work in the gardens.

Before he managed to panic at the thought of all the chores there must be with such a huge yard as this house had, he reminded himself that he was away now. He was safe now. Surely these people would be nicer to him than the Dursleys. He couldn't imagine anyone being meaner. Maybe they'd even let him do just the cooking or the polishing. He was good at cooking and he liked doing the polishing. It was always a relief, having something to do that didn't require too much thought or so much work that his knees or arms were left shaking by the time he finished. Most of his other chores were like that, but not the cooking or the polishing.

Pushing the thoughts away, he forced himself to listen to the blond as he continued to chatter while leading them into a copse of trees and out the other side where their destination finally became visible. Harry stumbled, hardly even noticing when the taller boy darted back to help steady him, green eyes locked on the sight before them. If the preoccupied grin on his face was any indication, Draco hadn't noticed the smaller boy's shock.

"Harry Potter, welcome to Malfoy Manor." The Malfoy heir was quite proud of how proper he sounded as he gestured towards his home. His guest didn't make the expected response, but the blond was far too excited to let the lack of proper manners bother him. Comportment lessons were dreadfully tedious after all, it was easy enough to forget them. Mother said it was okay if he forgot sometimes as long as he kept trying to remember. Maybe he and Harry could have those lessons together now so they could practice all the formal stuff on each other instead of the house elves. Even comportment lessons would be almost fun with Harry Potter there, surely. Bouncing ever so slightly on the balls of his feet at the possibility, Draco tugged on the dark-haired boy's arm to get him moving again.

When the smaller boy finally tore his eyes from the enormous building that seemed to almost float above the wide river like a bridge of white stone with blue pointed roofs, he stumbled again. Concerned grey eyes narrowed as their owner remembered that his new friend had been limping for several minutes. Flushing slightly at having forgotten the other boy might be hurt, he skipped any of the other things his mother had told him to do and say when welcoming an important guest and instead hurried to get him into the house so Mother and Father could help him and make him comfortable.

The brunette followed along with decidedly less enthusiasm as he continued to eye what the other boy had called a Manor. It looked like a castle to Harry. A big, fancy, important castle. Certainly nowhere he would be allowed inside. Aunt Petunia said almost every day that Harry didn't deserve to stay in their nice home, and she and Uncle Vernon were always quick to punish him if he took advantage of their letting him stay there anyway. What would someone who was important enough to live in a castle do to a worthless freak who showed up out of nowhere and messed everything up? Aunt and Uncle said Harry messed everything up just being there.

A stuttered protest got him nowhere in convincing Draco that he couldn't go inside and in fact, earned him a huff and a glare instead. Harry's shoulders rounded forward slightly at the expression, though it was replaced by a wide grin the instant the smaller boy started to move slowly towards the door.

Even with the cheerful expression and encouraging hand held back towards him, it took a minute for Harry to force himself to step foot into the pristine mansion once they reached the door. He imagined that each and every thing in sight was worth more money than he deserved to have spent on his food for the month. Aunt Petunia had several items like that – he always hated dusting them for fear of what she might do if he damaged one – and even the smallest thing here looked like it was fancier than every one of his Aunt's pieces put together. The mere thought of the kind of beating he'd earn if he touched something made his already unsteady legs and feet shake almost uncontrollably.

"Come on, Harry," the blond called impatiently as he made his way across the huge room, under the arched supports of a grand staircase and into a hallway beyond. The smaller boy did his best to follow without moving too slowly or limping too much, though he was still very careful to stay on the wooden floor rather than the vibrantly colored rug he was sure to destroy simply by stepping on it. It took him longer than he wanted to traverse the outer edges of the room, but eventually he caught up with the blond who was waiting for him. As soon as he got within reach, Draco grabbed his arm again and towed him down the hall until they reached a set of doors.

Harry had never seen anything like those doors. The doors were large and carved all over, and parts of them were shiny like they were decorated with bits of gold. He did not want to know who was behind doors like that or how that person would react to seeing a grubby freak in his perfect castle-like house. Before he had a chance to sneak back out the way they'd come as he wanted to, the blond boy burst through the double doors with a loud cry.