Understood /Drarry/

Chapter 1: Pain

A/N: THIS STORY HAS BEEN RE-WRITTEN. STUFF IS DIFFERENT. THANKS.

hey guys! So it's Drarry, which is bxb, so if you don't like please don't read. This is set during the holidays of the third year, so Harry and Draco are going into fourth year. I made them both fifteen, not sure if this is the age for fourth year but I thought it'd be more appropriate, then having them like fourteen or thirteen XD

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

Harry Potter lay on the cold stone floor of the Malfoy Manor dungeon, feeling faint and in immense pain. Convulsions ripped through his body and his head was pounding.

Darkness surrounded him from every direction, the only sound to be heard was Harry's harsh breathing. he gently lifted his head off the floor, to instantly regretted it as pain ripped through his neck. Damn it. What the hell happened?! All he remembered was taking a walk down the road of Privet Drive, when someone knocked him out the muggle way with a scented cloth.

Harry was thrown out of his flashback as screams ripped through the air, and the roar of some kind of beast echoed.

Harry sat up immediately. He recognised that voice, he recognised those screams. Then there was a lot of yelling. Harry could manage to single out the voices of Lucius Malfoy and Bellatrix Lestrange yelling about throwing "him" in the dungeon.

Harry had a pretty good idea of who "him" was, and he found he was right. The metal barred door unlocked with a creak, and a boy was tossed carelessly onto the floor. The door slammed shut with a clang. Mustering up all his strength, he crawled towards the figure. Well, his hunch had been right.

Silvery hair, handsome face, stormy grey eyes, and a load of blood. It was Draco Malfoy, with a huge bite mark in his chest.

"Oh my god Malfoy... What happened?" Harry asked weakly, his instincts of caring about others too much kicking in as he surveyed the bite mark. Right now it didn't matter that Draco was his enemy, he could potentially die right now.

"Fenrir Greyback..." Draco croaked. Harry paused for a moment, realising who exactly he was going to be helping. Draco Malfoy, the boy who called Hermione a mud blood, who called Ron poor, who made fun of his deceased parents and had tormented him since his first year of school.

But the Malfoy obviously knew this house. He'd know all the corridors, the secret passageways... And maybe a way out of this place. Maybe there was some way that he could escape. But there was no telling that Malfoy would actually help.

"Malfoy, this is going to hurt, but I need you to be quiet okay?" Harry asked, gritting his teeth as he pulled off his shirt and began shredding it into pieces of cloth, shivering at the cold air. Harry tied his shredded shirt around Draco's chest, the boy letting out weak whimpers of pain. He tied the last strip of cloth around his neck.

"We need to get out of here" Harry murmured, letting out a hiss of pain as he stood up. "Do you know a way out?" Harry asked, preparing for Malfoy to tell him something along the lines of I'll-never-help-you,-Potter.

"Why would I help you?" Draco muttered weakly, leaning on a pillar to help pull himself to his feet.

Harry glared defiantly, his vision spinning slightly as blood continued to drip down his chest from his neck.

"Because," Harry said, trying not to slur his words. "I just helped you. You owe me."

"I don't owe you anything, Potter. And just because you have the stupid instinct to help others doesn't mean I do," Draco snarled.

Harry opened his mouth to retort angrily, but paused as he heard voices yelling upstairs.

"Shit, Fenrir, what the hell was that for?!"