Chapter 1

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It was a cold, wet evening, and Harry was exhausted in the particularly headachy way that he knew only came from too many hours of paper work. He apparated outside Grimmauld Place, already mentally pouring himself a glass of red wine and trying to shed the strains of the day.

A small girl sat on his doorstep.

"Mr. Potter?" she asked.

"Er. Yes?"

The little girl stood. She was neatly dressed, but she didn't have a coat on, and looked very cold and damp. Her small hands were nearly blue.

"I need your help." she said. "My father's been kidnapped."

———

Harry and Malfoy started sleeping together in the last term of eighth year. It was kind of a hate thing. Harry was pretty fucked up that year: he had nightmares all night, he was struck by random bouts of uncontrollable rage, he couldn't focus, he couldn't think. He was so nasty to Ginny that she not only broke up with him, but Ron actually punched him in the mouth. They made up afterwards. By the time Harry was in his early twenties, he had mellowed out a lot, had figured out how to live with himself. He apologised to Ginny for being a shitty boyfriend, and to Ron and Hermione for being a shitty friend.

But in those first months after the Easter holidays, when he had alienated all the people who loved him, there was Draco Malfoy. Harry could be as nasty as he liked, to Draco Malfoy. And Malfoy was nasty right back. It started with Harry pushing Malfoy against a wall and calling him worthless. It ended with Harry fucking Malfoy fiercely from behind in the quidditch locker rooms.

It was only supposed to happen once. But somehow, it ended up happening again. And again. And again.

"I fucking hate you," said Harry, after they were done.

"Yes, join the club, Scarhead," said Malfoy. "Doesn't stop you from seeking me out like some needy little girlfriend, does it?"

"Only because everyone knows you're a slut, Malfoy. You'll take it from anybody."

"Tut, tut, Potter. If that's what I am, what does that make you? Someone with very low standards."

Harry sneered at him and walked away.

———

Harry stared at the little girl on his doorstep. She was small and pale with thick, black hair.

"What?"

"You are Harry Potter, aren't you?" she asked, rather imperiously.

"Yes. Who is your father? Where's your mother?"

"I don't have a mother." said the little girl, and shivered.

"Come inside," said Harry decisively. The little girl cast the front door an awed look.

"Inside?"

"Yeah, I'll make you a cup of tea" the little girl made a face. "-or a hot chocolate, and you can tell me what's happened to your dad before we go to the ministry."

He unlocked the front door, and the girl followed him inside, conscientiously wiping her feet on the mat before entering. She looked around with hungry eyes, interested in everything, although her gaze most often rested on Harry himself. It wasn't quite the same as the looks he was used to from people who admired him for his fame. He couldn't put his finger on how it was different, but it was. Her large green eyes disconcerted him. He led her to the kitchen and set about making her a cup of hot chocolate.

"What's your name?" he asked her.

"Cassie."

"And how old are you, Cassie?"

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