Chapter 28

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There was a stone wall that ran around the length of Malfoy Manor, and it was only a foot taller than Draco was. Harry glanced from it to Draco and back again and then said, "This is all the security your house has got? I expected spikes and howling dogs and massively uncomfortable security charms."

Draco smirked a bit. "Who would dare break into Malfoy Manor?"

"Someone who didn't know any better and didn't realize it was the Malfoys who lived there?"

"Precisely. And anyone so thickheaded is easy enough to deal with without the inconvenience of having to sharpen spikes, care and feed rabid dogs, or waste time with complicated security charms."

Harry had to give Draco a boost, and then watched as the other boy hauled himself up onto the wall. "Wait by the gate," he called softly. "I'll be there in a second to let you in."

The gate was a short distance away and Harry made his way over there, restraining the urge to giggle. It all seemed so silly, this subterfuge. It was Draco's house, why did Draco have to sneak into it?

But he wouldn't ask questions. Draco knew best, after all.

It was dark and quiet, and for a moment, Harry nearly panicked. Silence pressed down on him like a heavy wave and if he closed his eyes, nothing moved or breathed and it was almost like being dead.

But he wasn't, he reminded himself. And just to further press that knowledge into his mind, when Draco opened the gate, he slipped through, slammed Draco against the stone wall, and kissed him furiously.

Draco whimpered, a painful sort of whimper, the type that was strangled because he'd tried to restrain it. Harry pulled away, eyes narrowing suspiciously.

"What happened to you?" he asked softly.

"Nothing," Draco lied, wincing as he gently pushed Harry back a step and carefully straightened up, so he was not touching the wall.

Harry didn't believe him, but he didn't bother to ask again. Instead, eyes daring Draco to object, he turned the other boy and lifted his shirt.

Ragged welts, some of them cut and crusted with blood, marked Draco's back. Sucking in a painful breath, Harry touched one of the wounds very gently, his other hand slipping around to rest on Draco's stomach, an attempt to soothe him.

"What's he done to you?" Harry whispered.

"It's nothing," Draco said quietly. "Harry, I swear, it's fine."

Scoffing, Harry kissed the back of his neck and then pulled out his wand, casting healing charms. "What kept you, all that time?" he asked lightly, his free hand sliding around to Draco's side and then down to his hip, holding him still. "What really kept you, Draco?"

"It was nothing," he repeated, more firmly. "Are you finished yet?"

The wounds were closed and healed, and Harry leaned forward, kissing his back between the shoulder blades, before letting his shirt fall again. "Yes."

"Good. I couldn't reach, or I would have done it myself." He smiled at Harry, and before the other boy could ask any more questions, he took his hand firmly and tugged. "Now come on, I want to show you my gardens."

He hadn't lied, Harry decided. The Malfoy gardens were more beautiful than all the Hogwarts ones. There were acres and acres of them. Ordinary ones that, though filled with recognizable things like snapdragons and orchids, were somehow made extraordinary by the sheer volume of flowers and ferns, streams, ponds, statues. Then there were the gardens filled with plants the like of which Harry had never seen before. Magical plants that shimmered, changed colour, moved, sang, smiled. It was unnerving and enchanting and beautiful.

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