Radix Acclaro

2 - What?

Harry was screaming, his body seemingly on fire. He could feel his muscles rippling under his skin; it felt as if all his bits and pieces were fighting a war against each other. His wrists and ankles burned in their bonds, his struggling tearing the delicate skin, blood drenching the ropes.

Hearing a muffled feminine scream, he could only acknowledge that it was Hermione before another wave of pain swept him away.

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When the young Gryffindor woke again he was surprised to find himself in a bed, a very soft bed in a warm room lit only by the glow of the fireplace. He lay above the covers, the thick down comforter cradling him in the semidarkness. Shifting slightly he realized he was no longer bound and he was wearing pajamas, silk pajamas by the smell.

Cautiously he sat up and upon inspection, was surprised to find himself alone in the large room. He sat there a moment, bemused. He was clean, warm and relaxed. He felt safe but something niggled at the back of his brain, something told him he shouldn't feel that way.

Spotting the door he suddenly felt compelled to leave his little sanctuary. There was something out there, something that called to him.

Reluctantly he left the bed, noting idly that while the pajamas he wore were too large, they weren't like the giant sacks he got from Dudley; they were very long, as if they belonged to someone a good deal taller than him.

He opened the thick door a crack and peered into the empty hallway. He didn't really want to leave the bedroom, fearful that the serenity that now filled him would be ripped away and he'd have to face whatever unpleasant thing was still wiggling around the back of his skull.

Stepping into the hall he looked both ways, chewing his lip uncertainly. The light here was dim as well, only every other set of glass candle sconces were lit, giving the empty corridor an eerie dreamlike quality.

The feeling that pulled him from the bedroom propelled him down the hall. His footsteps made no sound, muffled as they were by the thick runner covering the dark hardwood floor. He stopped at an equally dark pair of doors. A quiet murmuring from inside seemed to drown out that niggling feeling, suffocating it into docile stillness.

Cautiously he opened one door, not entirely, but merely enough to slide his head inside; shielding himself with the wood.

It appeared to be a study, again lit only by the fireplace. Bookcases with glass doors lined the walls and a large desk sat before what he thought must be heavily curtained windows. Two cushy wing chairs stood before the fire but from where he stood he could only see one of the occupants, Lucius Malfoy.

The blonde appeared relaxed, a glass of amber liquid hung suspended from his long, elegant fingers. Harry thought he looked every inch the nobleman at rest; simple black leather knee boots, snug black trousers and a loose wine colored shirt unbuttoned to mid chest. His blonde hair fell over his shoulders like a curtain of white gold and framed that triangle of bared chest.

Harry rested his head on the edge of the door, enjoying the scene before him. For some reason the elder Malfoy was strangely fascinating.

Lucius tilted his head and seemed to be scenting the air, nostrils widening delicately before turning sharp silver eyes on him.

"Harry."

The young Gryffindor felt his breath catch as that mercury voice seeped into his pours. Lucius held out a hand to him and Harry could do nothing but go to him. He shuddered when the blonde's hand closed around his own.