Chapter Text
good boy
It had been a gloomy sort of day over West London. A typical grey cloud had hung low in the sky for most hours of the day, making night fall quicker in the streets than it normally would in August. It threatened rain, and the air nearly smelled of it, but not a drop had fallen making the day oddly muggy. Harry had a spring in his step as he made his way down the street towards his townhouse. Today, though cloudy, had been a good day. He had received the verification that he had passed his Auror training and was graduating from Junior Auror to Regular Auror; Ginny had owled him to inform him of her return by the end of the month; Ron had asked him to be best man in his wedding; and, to top it off, it was a Friday which meant a nice weekend break was here at last.
He could have easily used the Floo network, or Apparated home, but there isn't much fun in that. He liked walking home from the Ministry, because he could keep tabs on all of the wonderful happenings of both the Wizarding and Muggle worlds. It wasn't lost on him how incredibly fortunate he was to wave at a happy, unknowing muggle family on their way to service. Had the war ended differently, all this would have been gone. So he walked home most days and actively chose to remember what all the sacrifice had been for. Otherwise, the weight of trauma and depression would pull him under entirely. On his walks home, he could convince himself, yes, I have nightmares and a popped cork of a wine bottle might cause a panic attack, but at least I can say I had a wonderful walk home.
It was only as Harry turned around the fence that lined his very small, perfectly cut patch off front yard grass, that he saw an odd shape resting against his door. He stopped in his tracks, keys dangling from his hand. Oh, how his day just got better.
"Holy shite." He said, enunciating each syllable crisply. A surprised grin found itself working across his face. There, on the steps of his house, tied up like a present, sat Draco Malfoy. It was easy to spot the pale blond hair and ghostly skin tone that made Malfoy stand out so harshly against the darkened bricks of Harry's house. Harry turned his head, scanning up and down the sidewalk for any sign of who exactly it was that left Malfoy here for him to see. He frowned, however, when he was unable to spot another soul at all.
His attention returned to the Death Eater on his steps. Malfoy's arms were tied tightly behind his back at both the elbow and wrist. Even from this distance Harry could see that they were entirely too tight to allow adequate circulation. A dirty cloth served as a makeshift gag, tied just as tightly. Malfoy's lips were parted around the cloth, quivering from either fear or cold. Maybe both. A second dirty rag was folded into a thin strip and covered Malfoy's eyes. His legs, however, weren't tied. It was obvious that someone had left him here to be found. Yet, even blindfolded, why wouldn't Malfoy just stand up and walk away?
Harry stuffed his keys into the pocket of his overcoat, taking a few careful steps towards the bound man. Malfoy's head turned towards the sound of his steps, his back tightening as he pushed further against the wall he was against.
"Well," Harry spoke, watching the way Malfoy's entire body jolted at the sound of his voice, "I never expected to see you again, Malfoy. Much less in this state." Now that he was this close, Harry could see the bruising on Malfoy's cheeks. He grimaced at the sight of snot running from the gagged man's nose, pooling at the place his lips jutted out around the saliva soaked rag. He looked pathetic and lowly in this state, though Harry reckoned that's exactly what he was. He reached out, yanking the blindfold off haphazardly. Malfoy made a strangled noise, his eyes frantically darting around to take in his surroundings. His eyes landed on Harry, widening with a certain look of fear that made Harry lose his breath. Malfoy's eyes were puffy and red as though he'd been crying for hours. Maybe he truly had been? But more than that, Harry could now clearly see that Malfoy had been beaten pretty badly. He froze, swallowing the new lump that had formed in his throat. After 2 years, who the hell dumped him off like this?
"You look like shit." He said honestly, his voice a little more deflated than it had been when he first saw this new prisoner. He quickly scanned the area again, but no luck. He held the rag that once covered Malfoy's eyes, and took a moment to process what he should do. He sighed deeply. He supposed he should help clean Malfoy off, make sure he was fed and hydrated, get a statement and officially turn him in. That's what a newly named Auror should do. Harry checked the watch on his wrist. But, Merlin, it was nearly dinner and Harry didn't feel like filing more paperwork tonight. "Alright, then, Malfoy. Let's clean off that disgusting face, and get you inside for a little chat. How's that sound?"
Malfoy stayed silent, staring up at Harry with eyes as wide as dinner plates. Harry tilted his head. Something about Malfoy's eyes seemed too scared. Too distant. It set a nervous type of feeling in his stomach, but he pushed through anyway. After all, this was Draco Malfoy, the highly wanted Death Eater. Harry sighed, reaching down to attempt a wipe at Malfoy's disgustingly runny nose. The blond yelped, his chin crashing harshly against his chest as he protected himself from the perceived attack. Alright, Harry thought, I need to be a bit more gentle or he'll never cooperate.
"I'm going to wipe your nose. Then I'll take the gag off, okay?" Harry spoke softly as he slowly crouched beside the bound man. Malfoy slowly raised his head again, blinking heavily a few times as he stared. Harry swallowed again. Something most definitely was not right. Malfoy hadn't spoken at all. That was something unheard of. Malfoy wouldn't have cared if his mouth was bound or not. The Malfoy Harry remembered would have been ranting around that cloth. Harry did recognize the stare, however. He'd seen it on the faces of his friends after the war. It was pure trauma. But it'd been over two years since the end of the war. Everyone had gone to a mind healer by now to sort out their personal shit and get that thousand-yard stare off their faces. "I'm just wiping your nose."
Malfoy's eyes followed the cloth in Harry's hand as it rose towards him. He was turning his head just slightly as it came closer, his breathing becoming more labored. Just as the cloth touched the tip of his nose, he flinched, throwing his head back hard enough to crack it against Harry's heavy front door. Malfoy whimpered, his bottom lip trembling around the gag. Harry gasped and his free hand instinctively shot up to rub the injured spot like he would do to his godson, Teddy. "Oh, Merlin, Malfoy. You've got to be a bit more careful. It's just a nose wipe."
Harry did it quickly this time, holding Malfoy's head steady as he did so. The blond tried to move his head back again, but Harry was stronger. The hands tied behind his back wiggled in a panicked sort of fashion. Harry pulled the cloth away, content with the snot free face he was now looking at. Malfoy, however, had tears streaming down his face, his chest rising and falling at an unsteady pace. Harry reached again to remove the dirty cloth gag from Draco's mouth. The blond made a sort of squeal, once again turning his head from Harry. Harry frowned for just a moment, his mind allowing him to feel something of pity and worry for the blond man before him.
"Stop being such a toddler and let me remove your gag, Malfoy." Harry grunted, suddenly remembering that this was Draco Malfoy. This wasn't some random, helpless person. This was a very much wanted Death Eater. This was the one who allowed entrance to Hogwarts for others on his side. He fought back down the pity he had been feeling. Whatever happened to Malfoy had been more than well-deserved. "Can you stand?
Malfoy didn't speak, but his eyes did meet Harry's just briefly before fluttering back to the ground. He barely shook his head before a pained look painted his features. He whimpered again, but quickly nodded his head. Harry squinted at him curiously.
"I don't understand. You can or you can't?" Harry stood, crossing his arms across his chest as he stared down at Malfoy. Draco nodded, which Harry sighed in annoyance at (it still didn't clear up what he had meant). He watched as Malfoy attempted to move from his position for a few moments. Harry bit his lip, taking note that Malfoy's right leg seemed hardly able to move at all. He decidedly assumed his legs had fallen asleep. He allowed Malfoy to flounder for a few moments, admittedly a little sadistically happy to see it
"Alright, hold on." Harry stopped the ridiculous display in front of him before he could let the pity come back up again. He squatted and- before Malfoy had time to fully process that he was supposed to stop trying to stand on his own- lifted the blond into his arms. Malfoy yelped, his entire body tensing as he felt himself leaving the ground. Harry didn't bother with fiddling for his keys, and apparated them both inside the house. Harry walked a few steps down the front hall before taking a sharp left into the designated office space.
Malfoy had his head slightly tilted into Harry, his eyes squeezed as tight as he possibly could. Harry could feel the anxious spurts of breath the blond released hitting through his button up. The office itself was dark even with the large lamp that sat in the corner. There were no visible windows because Harry had shoved large bookcases against every wall. A large, rather expensive, mahogany desk sat in the center of the room, stacked high with office work he had brought home and various other tasks he needed to do. To the front and right of the desk sat a little, worn-looking red sofa. He set Malfoy down on the sofa gently.
"You can open your eyes." Harry said. "You're in my house. The office, actually." Malfoy opened his eyes. They flicked up to Harry for another quick glance before falling to the ground. Now that they were inside in a better lit room, Harry could see that Malfoy was hardly dressed in the proper attire for sitting outside on such a shite day. He took in a deep breath. It nearly seemed Malfoy had been rolled out of bed this morning and dropped off on his doorstep.
"I'll untie your hands, but if you make one move- any move -I'll hex you until you're bleeding. Got it?" Harry threatened, holding out his wand for good measure. Malfoy's bottom lip trembled as another fat tear rolled down his cheek. The blond nodded quickly, the fear consuming him entirely. Harry hummed in response to their new agreement, and flicked his wand in the general direction of the binds that held Malfoy. They untied themselves and fell limply onto the couch. Malfoy didn't move, however, and kept his hands behind his back.
"There's been quite the extensive search for you, Malfoy." Harry rolled his lips, his head tilting curiously as he examined blond before him. "A hefty reward for you as well. Did you know? Ten thousand galleons."
Malfoy stared at a fixed spot on the floor, completely motionless except for his chest which shuddered periodically with a panicked inhale. He was silent, but every few minutes a soft sniffle could be heard from where he sat. It made Harry slightly unsettled to see Malfoy like this. There had never been a time where Malfoy wasn't a snarky little shit. But, as unsettled as he was, he couldn't deny that it felt bloody good to finally get confirmation that Draco Malfoy was alive... and seemingly fit to finally stand his trial. It was a relief to think that those that died because of him might get a small piece of justice. He allowed the tension to simmer as he turned towards the bar cart near his bookshelf. He poured himself a heavy hand of brandy. He took a long sip before turning back over his shoulder to Malfoy.
"I'd offer you a drink to take off the edge, but I'd rather you be just as you are for now." Harry chirped. Malfoy stayed silent.
"Now, what I'm really curious about," Harry spoke with the slightest tinge of hatred as he leaned back against the desk in his office, "is why someone would just leave you here without so much as a note. You're worth ten thousand galleons. Have any ideas who would do that?"
Silence.
"Fine." Harry took another sip. "Lets start easier, maybe. Where have you been? No one has seen you since the battle."
Silence. Sniffle.
"Come on, now, Malfoy. I'm trying to be helpful here." Harry forced himself to take on a more charming tone. The blond still remained stiller than a statue, though his eyes had taken an odd glaze to them. "Where have you been? Surely not running amuck in the woods, have you?"
He waited semi-patiently, finishing his brandy while taking mental notes of what he was seeing in Malfoy's behavior and physical appearance. He couldn't say that Malfoy looked malnourished exactly. He wasn't entirely too gaunt, not enough to raise concern, but Harry still thought he looked a bit more skinny than the last time he had been seen. His hair was messy, but clean. In fact, everything on him besides the binds that had held him looked clean. His night clothes sported a few scuffs on the knees, and seemed a bit outdated, but clean. Malfoy did, however, sport quite a few gnarly bruises. On his cheeks, around his neck and wrists, one disappearing under the collar of his buttoned top.
His behavior, though, was really what made Harry's hair stand on end. It wasn't normal. Harry arrested criminals daily, and none had ever had such a nonreaction to being in his presence. Some would run, some would argue, some would feign innocence but none so far had seemed so dissociated from it. He barely seemed to be perceiving what was going on, and even then it seemed his understanding of it only went as far as fear towards Harry.
"Fine, fine." Harry caved, coming to sit directly beside Malfoy. "It's pretty clear you've been through some shit today. So let's start off a bit easier. What's your name?" Malfoy's grey eyes came back up again to look at Harry. A flutter of confusion shone across them. Harry could almost laugh at that look he was getting, as if Malfoy couldn't understand why he needed to say his name when Harry obviously recognized him.
"Draco." He said softly anyway, letting his eyes fall to the floor again.
"Draco. Last name, Malfoy, yes?" Harry pressed. Draco nodded weakly. He jumped when Harry tutted at him. "Have to use your words, I'm afraid." It was silent for another moment of time before Malfoy finally murmured his agreement to his name.
'Alright, Malfoy, I would like to do a few quick assessments on you. Just the basics. Intoxication rates, general health stats. I'm no Healer, but I promise to be as gentle as I can given our history." Harry forced a smile to his face as he spoke. He knew his words were a bit threatening, but he couldn't seem to help himself. This was Malfoy. Malfoy who hurt his friends, Malfoy who allowed Harry's home at Hogwarts to become a hellscape. He couldn't keep his own resentment entirely out of the conversation. He reached out his hand, not even thinking about the way the blond had flinched just a few moments ago outside, clapping it in what was meant to be a slightly friendly, slightly intimidating manner to the blond's shoulder.
Malfoy released a sound similar to the yelp of a puppy. His entire body contorted away from the hand that had touched him as if he were being burned. Harry nearly screamed as well, immediately retracting his hand. His eyes widened to what he might consider dinner plates as he watched Malfoy drop from the sofa to his knees on the floor. The sound of quick, panicked breathing filled the air, and for a moment Harry thought it might have been himself having a panic attack. It took a few seconds for Harry to process what Malfoy was doing. The blond had fallen further than just to his knees. He had flattened his chest against the maroon rug, his cheek pressed against the harsh surface. His grey eyes were squeezed shut so tightly Harry wasn't sure they would be able to open again. He kept his arse up, his back arching in a way Harry couldn't believe would be comfortable. Harry moved to his feet, stepping away from the blond as he started crying.
"Master, please!" Malfoy wailed, his fingers scraping against the rug. "Please, I'll answer. I'll be good. Please! Don't hurt me, Master, please." Harry couldn't move, frozen in place by the blond's pleas and cries. He could barely register the panicked babble falling from Malfoy's mouth.
"What in Merlin's name are you doing?" Harry questioned in a breathless spurt. Malfoy's eyes opened, but he didn't look up at Harry. Tears were falling faster than seemed possible, large and crystalline. They dripped across his nose and dropped to the carpet. The rug slowly turned a darker shade, burgundy perhaps, with each tear that hit it.
"I'm- I'm sorry!" Malfoy sobbed through broken gasps. "I'm good; I promise. I'm good."
"You don't," Harry finally felt himself snap back into reality-- a reality in which Malfoy was crying on his floor, clearly traumatized by something, "you don't have to say sorry, Malfoy. It's okay"
Harry dropped to his own knees, leaning down as far as he could without pain in an attempt to meet those terrified grey eyes. Something stabbed into Harry's heart. Merlin, it had been so insanely clear that something was very wrong with Malfoy, but his own prejudice had won out. Harry had been so heartless. He had tried to ignore those little signs. The vacant eyes, the bruises, the way he hadn't moved his arms even after he had been untied. But this couldn't be ignored. This was very, very real. Malfoy had called him Master. He had heard it. He had watched the word as it formed on Malfoy's lips, had felt it hitting him like a knife. His mind was racing a mile a minute, trying to understand where this term could have possibly come from.
His first thought was Voldemort, but no, just no. It couldn't be. Harry had killed him. He had watched him die. Had seen his dead body as it lay there, pale and disgusting. Vile. He had done it himself, proved it to himself over and over and over again. The only thing left of him were the lost Death Eaters, sympathizers, and the idea of him. Concepts that even Harry had trapped in his mind that came out in nightmares. But no. It wasn't Voldemort. Besides, Harry reasoned, the Death Eaters had called him their Lord, not Master. So then where would it have come from? Where would Malfoy have formed that word as an ideal he could call Harry of all people? It didn't make any sense in his mind.
"Master." Malfoy begged again.
"No, not Master," Harry said softly, shaking his head even though he knew Malfoy couldn't see it, "Harry. Just Harry."
"Master." Malfoy whined, his chest shuddering from the weight of the panic he contained. His entire body was covered in a goosebumps, shivering from fear rather than cold. He tried to bring in another breath, but each inhale provided his brain with less and less oxygen. Not that it mattered, truly. It wouldn't be the first time he had lost it while begging forgiveness. And, though he tried so hard to be good, it probably wouldn't be the last. His mind was spinning, trying to piece together everything that had happened in the last few hours, but nothing was making sense. His owners had beaten him, had made him feel so, so small. They had taken some of his memories from him, at least partially. Then, they had dropped him here, frightened and alone. So frightened. He didn't understand what he had done wrong. What had he done to make them abandon him? He couldn't remember their faces now, but it didn't mean he wasn't willing to do anything he could to return to them. But this man, this man who had brought him inside. He wasn't sure he knew him, though the man obviously knew him; he didn't know what it is that he could do to please him. Malfoy could feel the pulse in his head, thrumming with life despite the way his chest felt it was breaking apart. He had been so good, but this man was his Master now.
"Malfoy, you're okay." Harry spoke in the calmest voice he could muster, watching as Malfoy hit the heights of a panic attack. "You're okay. I just need you to listen to me, okay. Just listen to my voice." It was hopeless, however. Malfoy's mind was miles away, trying to wrestle with the idea of being abandoned and left to the will of a stranger. He had done everything they asked him to. Gods above, he was willing to be anything they had wanted him to be. Beat him, burn him, curse him, he didn't care. He only wanted to be theirs. Not this man's. But if begging and pleading, allowing this man to become Master, was the only way to get them back than he would do it.
Malfoy waited and waited. He waited to pass out, but he never did. He waited to get beaten, but he never did. He waited for his clothes to be torn apart, but they never were. Malfoy waited. Waited like a good boy, because that's what he was. He would prove that he was. Yes, he hadn't answered the questions he was asked, but he had been wrong and he promised all the Gods he could think of he would never, ever step another toe out of line. It was in this waiting, that finally his breathing returned to normal. His tears seemed to stop, and his throat ached from all his cries. Malfoy had waited long enough, that he suddenly realized that his new Master had been speaking to him. Oh, so foolish, he thought. How could he have been so stupid? How could he have let himself get so lost in his head. His new Master had been talking to him and he hadn't been listening. So, so foolish.
"Malfoy, can you hear me?" Harry asked again, taking note of how Malfoy's chest was now moving at a nearly normal pace. Grey eyes moved, rising to examine Harry's face. "Oh, thank Merlin. You scared the absolute shit out of me." Harry sat back up again, releasing a deep breath. He had been trained in manners like this. He knew he was meant to talk someone down so that they could answer your questions and get everything over with. But that, that had been intense for him. He'd never seen someone so unreachable. At least, not yet in his training.
"I'm going to ask you to please sit up," Harry spoke slowly, saying each word with care. He didn't have to force a smile as he watched Malfoy gently lift himself off of the floor, rocking back to sit on his feet. His eyes didn't leave Harry's as he moved. "Okay, good. Good."
"I'm very sorry," Harry started, "I never should have touched you. It was rude, unthoughtful, and quite frankly, incredibly unprofessional. You were well within your right to not answer me." Malfoy didn't move, his hands resting politely in his lap. "I'm going to run those assessments now, okay?"
Grey eyes flickered to Harry's hands.
"No hands used. I promise. It'll all be my wand. Is that alright with you?" Harry drew in a slow, exaggerated breath, noticing that Malfoy did the same. There was a small nod of consent, much to Harry's relief. "Okay, great. It'll only take a few minutes. I won't have to touch you at all. If you feel overwhelmed just tell me to stop."
Harry reached into his pocket, beginning to pull out his wand swiftly. Malfoy's body jerked, his knuckles turning white from gripping his thighs tightly. Harry slowed his motions. Once his wand was fully out, he held it out in plain sight for Malfoy to see for a moment before holding it correctly. Harry closed his eyes, staying aware of his breathing patterns, and cast the first basic detection spell. His wand moved in a circular pattern as his free hand stretched out its fingers in the air as though he needed to feel it. Malfoy watched as a thin yellow light came from the wand, circling around him twice before absorbing into his new Master's opened hand. The messy haired man tilted his head, humming in confusion. His eyes opened suddenly, making Malfoy startle and look back to the floor as though he had been doing something wrong.
"Alright, no major signs of intoxication, which is a good thing. Do you regularly take any potions, Malfoy? Herbs or Beast Items?" Harry asked, before quickly casting another spell. Malfoy shook his head, watching the wand scan his body. "Excellent. You've got a little bit of a remaining potion in your system, a sedative, I would say, but it isn't too much of a concern. A few fairly minor injuries that will just take some time to heal. Nothing too awful, so you can relax. You'll be safe here."
Malfoy was silent again. Harry wasn't entirely sure what was worse. This dreadful silence or being called Master. Either made a terrible taste in his mouth if he dwelled on it.
"Malfoy, where have you been? Do you know?"
Headshake.
"Were you on your own?"
Headshake.
"No, so you, you had a, er, a Master, then?" Harry pressed, summoning a quill and parchment to write a few things down. Malfoy nodded, his bottom lip trembling. "Where are they now? Do you know?"
Headshake.
"Okay, that's alright." Harry bit into his lip, eyeing the blond man up and down. "I think that's enough questions for tonight." Harry stood up, motioning for Malfoy to do the same. The blond did, staggering a little as he came to a full standing position. Harry fought the urge to reach out and steady him. The air had shifted drastically since Malfoy's panic attack. Harry wasn't exactly sure what he was meant to do. He had been so confident in treating Malfoy like shit earlier. It had been a long time coming. But now? Now he wasn't so sure it had been the right thing to do. Harry had seen a lot more on that scan than he would let Malfoy know; a lot of very intimate knowledge had flooded Harry's mind, and to top it of, Malfoy was so full of sedatives it was a wonder he was still so coherent.
"Now, according to protocol, I should be taking you to the Ministry right now." Harry sighed, running a hand through his messy hair, "but to be honest, I think that may be the worst thing I could do to you right now." It was silent as Harry thought of what to do. He didn't think Malfoy posed much of a threat. He didn't even have a wand with him. Nor did he fight even once the entire time he has been here.
"I have a room upstairs, but I'll need to have it cleaned first, of course." Harry clicked his tongue thoughtfully, "I'll let you sleep in here tonight, recoup, and we can, uh, answer more questions tomorrow. Are you hungry? Thirsty?"
Malfoy's eyes flicked up briefly, a disbelieving look evident on his face. He studied Harry for a moment before just slightly nodding his head. It was so subtle Harry almost believed he imagined it.
"Yeah?" Harry ran a hand over his face. "Okay, I can do that for you." Harry called for his house elf, Dippy, asking for her to fetch Malfoy some water and food when she had the time. She nodded her head, her large and flappy ears audible as they waggled in the quiet room. Dippy whisked away with a pop, and, before Harry had even gotten Malfoy to sit on the sofa again, came back with a large pitcher of water and a cucumber sandwich. Harry thanked her, sending her off to continue her nightly reading.
"She's very proud to read in her own study. Ginny and I made her one," Harry laughed nervously, watching Malfoy carefully for any tells. Malfoy didn't laugh or smile. "Right, well, uh-."
Harry poured a glass of water for Malfoy, holding it out to him carefully. Malfoy hesitated, almost too scared to touch the water for fear this was just more punishment. He had been withheld water before. The way his tongue had dried out was a feeling he wouldn't soon forget. When he didn't grab it directly, Harry placed it on the side table instead. Another moment passed before long, pale fingers reached out to touch the glass. Malfoy lifted the water, his eyes carefully trained on Harry as though expecting something bad to happen. Harry chewed on his lip thoughtfully as the blond brought the cup to his lips with an unsteady hand. Harry watched as the crystalline water slopped towards chapped lips and the bobbing of Malfoy's throat as he swallowed the first taste. Malfoy released something of a moan, his free hand coming to wrap around the tall glass as well. It was like a switch had turned as he chugged the water haphazardly. Trickles of water fell from around the glass rim and dropped onto his lap. Harry tilted his head; this was hardly the way a prim and proper Malfoy would drink water. Malfoy lowered the glass, panting slightly.
"I'll get you more," Harry spoke, already making his way over with the pitcher, "try to drink a little slower. You'll make yourself sick." Malfoy nodded his agreement, eyes now transfixed on the water as it poured. But, once the glass was full again, he chugged it just as quickly as the first. Harry made a note in his head. Malfoy held out the cup timidly, and Harry gladly filled it a third time. He smiled at Malfoy as the blond wiped away the water that had wet his chin and lips. Merlin, he had been so mean to him. To a man who was dehydrated -- he handed the sandwich to Malfoy, who ate it hungrily-- and starving. What kind of an Auror was he? He didn't want to dwell on the answer.
"Here's a blanket and pillow." Harry summoned the items, casually placing them on the sofa next to Malfoy. Malfoy stopped eating mid bite, his head turning to look at the plush blanket in shock. "I put up a ward. So, please, for paperwork's sake, try not to execute an escape plan. Yeah? I really will have to turn you in if you do. Besides my wards are quite tricky." Malfoy nodded.
"Good. You can finish that sandwich, and keep the water pitcher. I'll have Dippy fill it again for you." Harry glanced around his office. He certainly couldn't have Malfoy alone in a room full of documents. He doubted that this was all some elaborate hoax to trick him, but one could never be too safe. Harry walked to his desk, rapping his knuckles against the wood. Any important or confidential paperwork flew into the drawers of the desk-- including the cloths used to bind Malfoy--, which in turn promptly shrunk down into a beautiful wooden briefcase. Harry picked it up, giving one last look to Malfoy. "Get some sleep. I'll see you in the morning."
Just like that, his new Master was gone. Malfoy put down his partially eaten sandwich, suddenly feeling sick to his stomach. This wasn't right. His other Master hadn't been so nice on the first day. The niceties had to be earned. He was still thirsty, but he ignored the now refilled pitcher. The main thing he felt was tired. So very, wholly tired. He glanced at the blanket and pillow that had been left for him. It was a trick. It had to be. A trick to see how disciplined he could be, how well he knew his place. Malfoy stood, folding the blanket the way he had been taught and fluffing the pillow. He left them carefully placed on the sofa, and sank to the rug. He waited on his knees for a while, thinking that if his new Master decided to come down he would be pleased to find him waiting. He waited, and waited, and waited. Like a good boy. His eyes darted up to the half eaten sandwich that was so close by, but he didn't dare take another bite. He could prove that he wasn't a selfish, behaved brat. Time elapsed, and when his new Master hadn't shown in what he assumed were the first few hours, Draco allowed himself to curl up on the rug. He tried to fight back tears as he thought about his old Master, but it was useless. He fell asleep with tears still wetting his cheeks.