MINE

Chapter Two


After a frenzied, last minute check of their dorms for any missing belongings, the students all gathered in the Thestral drawn carriages to take them to the Hogwarts Express for their trip home for the summer.

Harry was thankful, after an hour of excitable chatter around him, that Hermione, Blaise, Ron, Lavender, Ginny, and Neville left the compartment. He was so tried, even after going to bed early the night before. He laid down along the bench, conjuring a pillow from his robes. He was soon asleep from the gentle rocking of the train.

Draco quietly came into the compartment, after finding out from Hermione that Harry was by himself. He kneeled down and reached out to gently brush the raven hair from Harry’s eyes, his knuckles touching the fevered skin of his forehead. He gently touched the side of Harry’s face, then his neck, feeling the same heated skin. “Harry,” he softly said, giving Harry’s shoulder a slight shake.

Harry blearily opened his eyes, looking around the compartment, then at Draco who was still kneeling before him at his side. “Hey Draco. We home already?” He tiredly asked.

“No. You’ve only been asleep for about an hour. At least that’s when Hermione said she left you,” Draco replied, sitting beside Harry when the other sat up. “How long haven’t you been feeling well?”

“I don’t feel sick or anything, just tired. I went to Pomfrey yesterday and she said she couldn’t find anything wrong with me. Maybe I’m catching a wizarding flu bug or something.”

“You wouldn’t tell me if something was seriously wrong anyway, would you?”

“You know I tell you more than most. Maybe I’m just burnt out from all the extra training,” Harry said.

Draco looked worriedly at the dark circles under Harry’s eyes. “I’ve got an early birthday present for you Harry,” Draco smiled, pulling out the green wrapped package, not wanting to push Harry, when he obviously wasn’t feeling well.

“You didn’t have to Draco. You being there for me, listening to me, is enough,” Harry smiled.

“And I will always be there for you Harry. Goes both ways you know. You listened to me while I complained, then grieved for my mother when she was killed by Bellatrix. I know it’s hard to keep in contact with anyone while you stay with the muggles, so father and I came up with this gift,” Draco said, handing him the gift.

Harry carefully unwrapped the package, to see a green leather-bound journal with his name etched in gold on the front. “A journal?” Harry asked, flipping through the empty pages.

“Not just any journal Harry. Father got the idea from Riddles’ diary in our second year, except this one won’t kill you,” Draco smirked. “When you write . . . and you can use muggle pens if it’s easier, the message will automatically, magically appear in my journal. They are connected. I can write to you also. No owls needed.”

“Wow. Thank you so much Draco,” Harry smiled, looking at the journal in wonder.

“It’s also charmed so that no one but us two can read them,” Draco added.

Draco pulled on Harry’s arm, guiding him to lie down again, his head on his lap. He took a piece of paper that was in his pocket, then transfigured it into a cool, damp cloth, gently brushing it over Harry’s heated skin.

“Feels nice,” Harry softly said. “Thanks again Draco . . . for everything.”

“Anytime Harry,” Draco quietly replied, applying the cool cloth over and over again, even when he felt the deep, even breathing of the sleeping Gryffindor.


~*~


Harry had said goodbye to Draco after he woke up, then went to meet up with Ron and Hermione on the platform, to see them off. Almost as soon as he stepped through the magical barrier of Platform 9¾, he was embraced in the matronly arms of Molly Weasley, his surrogate mother, since he started at Hogwarts, six years before.

“Is your aunt and uncle meeting you Harry?” Arthur kindly asked.

Harry nodded his head and motioned to the rather obese man, that was glaring at them by the car. “Just my uncle,” he quietly said. “I better get going,” he added, turning his trolley, with his trunk and Hedwig’s rather large cage.

“Make sure you owl us regularly to let us know that you’re all right,” Molly said, hugging him again.

“I will,” Harry grinned, returning the embrace. “I better go,” he said, turning to see his uncle stalking his way.

Harry then quickly pushed the trolley straight towards his uncle, to have his arm grasped in a bruising grip, hurrying the pace until they arrived at the car. He hefted his trunk, into the trunk of the car, unassisted and under the watchful eye of his uncle. Although careful, the metal on the corner of the trunk left a tiny scratch into the paint.

With his back towards the watching Weasley’s, Vernon Dursley reached up to grasp the back of his neck. “You will pay for that boy,” Vernon threatened.

“Yes, Uncle Vernon,” Harry sighed, reaching up to rub the back of his neck, after his Uncle had let him go, then picked up Hedwig’s cage to put it in the back seat with him.

Harry nervously rubbed his sweating palms against his jean clad thighs. He felt somewhat reassured, feeling his wand in the hidden pocket of his jeans, even knowing he, by wizarding law, cannot do magic until his birthday at the end of July. He shifted in his seat, feeling the journal that Draco gave him, that lay warmly between the back of his jeans and the small of his back.

Harry was not surprised, when his Uncle pulled up into their driveway, opened his car door, then stalked to the front door of the house, leaving him to fend for himself with his trunk and Hedwig. He sighed and slowly got out of the car, to then drag his trunk with one hand, and the other awkwardly carrying Hedwig’s cage. Once through the door, he was taken by surprise, his hands dropping his precious cargo, when he was forcefully pushed back against the door, the door knob pressing painfully into his spine.

“If it wasn’t for that convict godfather of yours, you would be paying for that scratch with your blood,” Vernon threatened, his hand at Harry’s neck. “Now . . . the trunk in the cupboard, your bird in the shed.”

“But Uncle Vernon, Hedwig needs . . . ” Harry rasped out, trying to pry the thick fingers from his neck.

“The bird goes in the shed. You will feed it when you send your letters to your freaky friends.”

Harry took a few deep breaths once his uncle let him go, then righted the cage with a very pissed off bird inside. He picked up the one end of his trunk and dragged it to his once-upon-a-time bedroom and placed it inside, thankful that he had his wand hidden on himself. He watched as his uncle padlocked the cupboard, pocketing the key in his pocket. He followed his uncle to the back shed, quietly reaching down to throw some owl treats into the cage that he had in his pocket, and to unlatch the cage door.

He carefully placed the cage on a table, and gazed into Hedwig’s large, amber eyes. “I’ll see you in a few days,” he quietly said, knowing that she realized the situation. “Uncle Vernon, we need to open the window. Hedwig will need air,” he added, so Vernon could hear.

“No, we will not,” Vernon sneered.

“She will be needed to deliver the letters. My friends know she is mine,” he reminded him.

“Fine. But if anything is stolen from here, you will pay for it.”

Harry reached up and propped the window up, smiling to himself when he heard the scurrying of tiny mice feet in the darkened corners of the shed. He looked down at his feet, hiding his smile from his uncle as he squeezed himself out the shed, past his uncle.

“Petunia will be needing to put Dudders new car into the garage in a few hours. You will clean the garage and make sure there is plenty of room for his new car.”

‘Spoiled git,’ Harry thought to himself. “Yes, Sir,” Harry nodded, heading in the direction of the side garage door.

“You will not come in until it is spotless,” Vernon warned, going back into the house.

“Gods,” Harry exclaimed to himself when he turned on the garage light. He cleans it every year, but this year was the worst that he could remember. Boxes lay haphazardly around the floor, some of them, their contents overflowing over the tops. Broken milk bottles, and what he assumed were Dudley’s beer bottles, lay tossed and broken at the edge of the one wall, like they were carelessly swept there. Broken furniture and toys were piled into two of the corners, mostly due to Dudley’s childish tantrums over the years. If was like his relatives knew he was going to be there and purposely ransacked their own garage, to see him work his arse off.

He took a few deep breaths, as he stepped further into the garage, taking off his button down shirt, leaving him in his T-shirt. He wrapped his shirt around the journal and kept the wand at his side, then picked up a couple of markers from an overturned box before setting to work, sorting, refilling, and labeling the boxes as accurately as possible. After just a few boxes, his shirt was soaked to the skin from his excursions and his overly heated body.

Several hours later, Harry looked around at the partially cleaned garage, the boxes labeled and piled neatly in the one corner of the garage, after thoroughly sweeping and washing that area first. He looked at the broken glass at the one side, then closed the garage door. “Evanesco,” he quietly said, waving his hand over the mess. He smiled to himself as the glass and stains on the pavement disappeared.

“I wouldn’t let dad see you do that,” a voice said, from the partially open door.

“Dudley,” Harry said, surprised he didn’t hear his cousin come in. “You’re early.”

“It’s not that early,” Dudley shrugged, coming in further, looking around the garage. “Mum said you were cleaning, so I thought I’d come to clear out some of the broken things. Rick’s out there with his truck,” he added.

“You’re . . . you’re helping me? Why?” Harry stammered.

“I’ve come to a few self revelations the past year Harry,” Dudley said, opening the large garage door for Harry to see a shiny new, cherry black sports car, and a blond haired man opening the tailgate of his truck. He got a closer look at Harry, when more light came through the open garage door. “You don’t look so good Harry,” he said, nodding to the sweat soaked T-shirt.

“Haven’t been feeling too good the past few days,” Harry replied, pulling out a broken chair from the pile. He stepped around Dudley, as he didn’t trust the bigger man, and placed the chair by the door.

“Harry, I’m not going to do anything to you,” Dudley smirked, seeing how Harry avoided him.

“Why, all of a sudden?” Harry asked.

“A few things,” Dudley said, looking back at Rick, to see him rearranging things in the back of his truck. “Watch Rick, and tell me if he’s looking this way,” he quietly said.

“He’s not looking.”

Dudley turned his back to the open garage door and held out his hand. Harry gasped in shock, when a broken ski flew into his cousin’s hand. “That is why,” Dudley smiled, looking at the ski, then at Harry.

“Does Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia know?” Harry asked.

Dudley turned around again when he heard Rick walking up the driveway. “I’ll tell you later,” he whispered. “Rick. I’d like you to meet my cousin Harry.”

“Hello Harry,” Rick smiled, holding out his hand. “Dudley told me a bit about you. Sorry ‘bout your parents.”

“Thank you, and it was a long time ago. I don’t even remember much about them,” Harry replied, returning the handshake.

“I lost my mum when I was young too. Couldn’t imagine losing both,” Rick said. He then looked around them. “You were a destructive child Dudders,” he laughed, seeing the pile of broken furniture and toys.

“I was,” Dudley smirked. “I was a spoiled brat,” he admitted.

“Still are,” Rick grinned, nodding his head towards the new car.

Dudley just shrugged his one shoulder, then went to some of the labeled boxes Harry just finished with. “Why don’t you two haul the broken furniture and I’ll see what can be garbaged here?”

The three of them set to work, Harry listening to the other two joke back and forth. Harry and Rick piled the broken things onto the back of the truck, while Dudley slowly added to the pile with boxes of more broken things. After the truck was filled as much as possible, Rick and Dudley left to take it to the dumpsite, while Harry got more ready for the second haul.

Harry took a few moments to sit on a chair he wandlessly fixed, and slowly sipped the water his aunt silently left him. He was trailing an ice cube along his neck, when he caught sight of a shoe box that was wedged under a shelf, that was uncovered after some of the junk was hauled away. He went over and pulled the box out, sitting back down with it on his lap. He picked up his glass again to drink some of the water as he opened the box. The glass soon crashed to the floor, the glass shattering at his side as he looked inside the box.


tbc