Born in Frustration

~Chapter Nine: Someone to Watch Over Me~

Draco smirked at the boy lying on the bed.

“I told you I’d be back,” he said, walking over to sit beside Harry. Draco reached for the two jars of healing balm. “Take off your shirt, Potter.”

Harry looked sceptically at Draco, a blush rising on his cheeks.

“The salve needs to be applied until the wounds are healed.” Draco answered the unspoken question.

Harry nodded and sat up, pulling the shirt over his head. “Thanks,” he said quietly, “for the clothes, I mean. They’re quite comfy.” Draco brushed the comment aside with a wave of his hand. He reached into his pocket, removing a bottle of Pain Potion. He handed it to Harry, raising an eyebrow at the question in Harry’s eyes…

“Trust me, Harry, you’ll be glad you took the potion after we start applying the healing balm,” he said reassuringly, a slight smile tickling the edges of his mouth.

Harry shrugged and took the potion and drank it. Draco smiled at the dreamy look that came over Harry. He really did wish that he could spend his life making others feel that way. Snorting, he shook his head; he could never have that life and it was useless thinking about it. Pushing the wish aside, he focused his attention on the task at hand…

Draco promptly shoved a jar of cream at Harry, grabbing the second…

“Ready?”

Harry nodded his head and turned slightly so Draco could have access to his damaged back.

Draco dipped his fingers in the jar. He began, as gently as he could, to massage the cream into Harry’s injuries. They worked in amiable silence for several minutes. Draco frowned now and then as he worked. He was still unable to resign the boy he thought he knew, to the one he was helping now.

Harry had such passion for right and wrong. Always defending those who could not defend themselves, why then, could he not defend himself? Draco’s memories of Potter were of a boy so strong, so honest and passionate. He simply could not understand the boy’s acceptance of such obvious wrongdoing. How could Harry just sit back and do nothing? Where was the passion now? Where was the spark?

Harry had finished applying the balm to his front and was sitting quietly and Draco could not help to notice how relaxed Harry seemed. Thinking he could take advantage of the relaxed mood and growing tired of the silence, he decided it might be safe to ask a few questions. Minding his words, Draco carefully broached the subject…

“Harry?”

“Mmmm.”

“Can I ask some questions? You don’t have to answer, if you don’t want to…”

Harry looked over his shoulder and Draco could see the fear and uncertainty in the other boy’s eyes, but he was sure he also saw a bit of trust in those green depths…

Harry sighed. “I won’t promise to answer everything – quite honestly, Draco, I’m not sure why you are helping me. But, I’m grateful – so...” Harry took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. He appeared to be gathering his courage. “I’ll try…”

Draco paused momentarily. “That’s all I want, Harry. I’m not asking you to answer all my questions, I… I… just really need to understand,” he ended quickly.

Harry shrugged his shoulders. “I’m not sure how much help I’ll be…”

“That’s okay, Harry, I just…”

Harry looked back over his shoulder. “I’ll try,” he said softly, “but, there’s a lot I really don’t understand myself, Draco.”

Draco reached up and squeezed Harry’s shoulder. “That’s a start, Harry,” he said softly.

Harry smiled slightly at Draco’s words. Raising his eyebrows, he indicated that Draco could start asking.

Draco cleared his throat and began….

“When did your uncle begin abusing you?”

“Physically?”

“Okay...” Draco sighed, “we’ll start there.” Draco realised his impression may have been correct.

Harry scrunched his nose, appearing to be thinking. “Um – I’d say they started hitting me when I started school.”

“Before that, they never hit you?”

“Well, no – they spanked me on occasion. But, after I started school, it got worse.” Harry shuddered under Draco’s hands.

“Before that?” Draco asked.

Harry stiffened. “I dunno, they just ignored me, locked me in the cupboard and stuff…”

“Cupboard?” Draco’s hands stilled.

Harry sighed heavily. “Yes.”

“Oh, no, Potter. What the fuck! Cupboard?”

Harry turned and faced Draco. “I used to live there, in the cupboard under the stairs. That was my room.”

Draco felt all the blood drain from his face. “No,” he yelped.

Harry flopped down on the bed, his eyes glossy with tears. “You think I’m a useless fool now, don’t you?”

Draco reached out and brushed his fingertips across Harry’s cheek. “No, Harry Potter, you are not useless.” He reached down and tugged the boy up again, so he could finish applying the cream. “You have never been useless, Harry.”

Reluctantly, Harry sat back up, rubbing his eyes. “I don’t want anyone to pity me. I get enough of that already.”

Draco frowned, thinking that was exactly why he had always considered Harry spoilt. Everyone pitied the poor boy that lost his parents and had a madman after him. What would they think if they knew there was a better reason to pity the boy? He understood now though, that Harry didn’t like the attention his fame garnered him.

“I think I understand that, Harry.”

“Do you?”

“I think so. You don’t really like the attention, do you?”

“Merlin, no! I hate it.” Harry looked at Draco with wide eyes. “I hate being famous for something I don’t even remember.” Harry gave Draco an appraising look. “Can I tell you something, Draco?”

“Of course.”

“Do you know what happens when a Dementor gets too close to me?” Harry asked hesitantly.

Draco narrowed his eyes as a guilty feeling over swept him. “No,” he answered.

“I – I… um… I hear my parents dying,” Harry said quickly. “I don’t even remember it. But, if a Dementor gets too close, I can hear them.” Harry made a disgusted face. “I sorta know why I lived. But, it’s weird. I wish…” Harry bowed his head as silent tears slipped from his eyes.

Draco sat very still. He could not believe it. It was no wonder the boy fainted when a Dementor got too close. Draco’s insides squirmed with guilt. He could well remember the nasty trick he and his fellow Slytherins had tried to play on Harry. Knowing now why the other boy passed out, well, Draco felt appropriately horrible, considering.

Draco finished with Harry’s back. He closed the jar. Handing Harry his shirt, he nudged the boy to turn to face him. Draco didn’t like the direction this conversation was going. Seeking to change the subject, Draco asked the one question that had been bothering him since he entered number four, Privet Drive…

“Harry, why haven’t you told Dumbledore about this?” he said. “I understand the pity thing, Potter, but Dumbledore surely would not…”

“I think he knows,” Harry interrupted.

“WHAT?” Draco shouted.

Harry startled. “It’s… it’s just that my first letter, it was addressed to my cupboard,” he said in one quick breath. “Why would the letter be addressed to my cupboard, if Dumbledore didn’t know?”

Draco seethed. Dumbledore couldn’t possibly condone this behaviour; Draco obviously didn’t like the man – no Slytherin did – but to allow Harry-Bloody-Fucking-Potter to live in such a terrible situation, there was no way. Draco found himself with yet a new reason to despise the old fool.

Draco was preparing to respond, when a large gray owl flew through the window. Both boys jumped at the intrusion. Harry got off the bed, approaching the owl and removing the note from the bird’s leg.

Draco watched Harry, though his thoughts were many miles away, seeking revenge on the old man that ran his school. How could Dumbledore know about that fucking cupboard? And why, why, why would he leave Harry there? Even if Dumbledore only knew half of what was going on, leaving Harry in the clutches of the Dursleys was unacceptable.

Draco was roused out of his contemplations by a delighted squeal from Harry.

“I’m leaving early!” he exclaimed.

Draco stood up walked over toward Harry, confused.

“Look, look, look, Draco.” Harry was practically dancing. “Dumbledore is coming for me this Friday!” Tears streamed from Harry’s eyes. The abused boy reached out and grabbed Draco, hugging him tightly. “Friday!” he squeaked again. “I can’t believe it!”

Draco wrapped his arms around Harry, letting the boy sob against his shoulder. He could feel the relief seep through every pore on Harry’s body. It was as if a huge sigh had just enveloped the entire room. Draco smirked a bit, a knowing look in his eye. Perhaps the Headmaster didn’t know everything that went on at Privet Drive. Though Draco could not help thinking about that first letter…