Title: Draco Malfoy and the Forgotten Prophesy

Summary: Draco Malfoy ran away from the Wizarding World, giving up his rich and spoiled life only to wake up in Southern California without a cent to his name. Luckily there was a certain brunette willing to help him find shelter. But did he really run away from the Wizarding World? Or had he merely brought that world to Los Angeles? SLASH.

CHAPTER ONE

"Hey?"

Draco opened his eyes blearily to see the concerned face of a brunette teenager hunched down next to him.

"You look soaked, dude. Did you take a swim in your clothes?"

The blonde boy tried to move only to have flashes of pain run through him. "No. It's just the rain."

The jock laughed uproariously. "Rain? Dude this is SoCal. Hasn't rained here in weeks."

Draco shot up quickly, his head aching from the movement. "SoCal? You mean Southern California?"

The other guy's face changed from concerned to quizzical. "Yes? Where else?"

The Malfoy heir tried to stand quickly but was immediately wracked with the aches and bruises lined under his clothes. The brunette reached out quickly to keep the blonde from falling over, the concern taking over again. "What's wrong dude? Should I be taking you to a hospital?"

Draco snorted through his own pain, wondering what kind of medieval treatment Muggles would subject him to. "No. I'm fine."

"You don't look fine. Where are you from, anyways? You sound British or something."

He sighed forlornly, already missing the green hills of his home. "I'm from Wiltshire."

The American brunette gave him his first smile, a grin as he withdrew his arms away from him, as if to make sure the blonde could remain steady. "No clue where that is."

Draco eyed the other boy up and down. They were both around the same age, around 18 years old, but the American looked slighter taller, and more built than the blonde, who, although Draco liked to think of himself as aristocratic and slight, was much shorter and thinner than most of his age. After an awkward pause, realizing that he hadn't replied to the clueless boy, Draco muttered, "About ten kilometers east of Bath."

The other teenager blinked blankly. "Nope."

The blonde rolled his eyes. "160 kilometers west of London."

"I know that one!"

Draco smiled in spite of himself. "Figured you would."

The brunette sat on the bench next to him. "Yeah. Anyways… so you look like you slept on the beach all night. Lose your hotel?"

He jolted himself around only to realize belatedly that he was on a boardwalk of some kind, right next to the beautiful sand of the Pacific coast. His jaw dropped, even as mind finally congratulated himself on his harebrained scheme actually working.

"Dude?"

He turned his attention back to the American, who was still eyeing him unsurely. He fought to kept his eyes away from the dark, piercing green irises of the other boy, muttering, "I'm fine."

"To repeat myself… You are clearly not fine. Listen. How about we text your folks or whomever you're staying with or something?"

The wizard blinked at the Muggle. "Text?"

"You know… cell phones?" The American's voice was dry and slow. "I'm sure you guys have them in Britain."

"Oh yeah…" Draco feigned comprehension, adding lamely, "I lost mine."

"Damn. Well… do you remember the name of the hotel they are staying at?"

The blonde drew into a deep blush, completely unsure about how to deal with the friendly teenager. He obviously couldn't tell the Muggle the whole truth. But it wasn't likely that he was going to meet anybody in the city that'd be more likely to help him than this random guy. He seemed like the 'helping others' type— the kind of people his father was quick to sneer at, but exactly the kind of person Draco hoped to become. Maybe if he just told this American part of the truth?

Draco took a deep breath. "I'm not… well, to tell you the truth… I'm alone here. I actually ran away from home."

The brunette's brows furrowed in sadness. "I'm so sorry to hear that. Well… welcome to Los Angeles, the city that everybody runs to when they run away. How'd you get to the States anyways?"

The Malfoy heir blushed deeply, muttering, "It's a long story."

"I'm sure it is." The brunette glanced over to the ocean momentarily, clearly lost in thought. A pang of hope ran through Draco as the other boy slowly came to a conclusion. "So you don't have anywhere to stay?"

Draco blushed deeply, realizing for the first time that he was absolutely broke and totally homeless. "No."

The other boy broke out into a smile. "Well… I can't just let you sleep here. Come on, you can crash at my place." He stood up quickly.

"Really?" Draco hesitated, wondering what the catch was. "You don't even know my name."

The American didn't even hesitate in replying. "I don't need to, dude. I'm just paying it forward. When I first showed up in LA three years ago, somebody offered me a place to stay when I didn't know anybody either."

Draco had a million questions running through his mind as the brunette helped him up, pain almost ignored. But in the end, the only thing that he could say was, "Thank you."

"No problem. Now about the injuries and such. Can I take you to a hospital?"

Draco blushed and tried to steady himself from falling over. "No. I'm… fine." He avoided the other boy's knowing look. "It's okay! It's just bruises and such. No internal bleeding."

The American eyed him carefully. "Well… okay if you say so. Alright let's get to my car. I'm parked up on Venice."

"The city?"

The brunette snorted. "No. Venice, as in Venice Boulevard and Venice Beach. You're on the beach right now." He motioned ahead towards the boardwalk, where artisans were setting up shop.

Draco followed him as the American walked down the boardwalk. He watched in silence as the American was recognized by a couple of the shopkeepers, who hailed him over so that they could laugh about some small piece of news. The brunette seemed so comfortable in his beat up tennis shoes, his loose, ill-fitted clothes, a branded, wide-brimmed hat, and skateboard in one hand. It made Draco slightly jealous for no apparent reason.

Finally, as they made their way through the crowds and the short row of bars and restaurants that were just opening up for the morning crowd, the two got to the neighborhood of small houses right behind the main strip. There, jauntily parallel-parked in the smallest possible parking spot, was a beat-up, ancient convertible with a broken top.

Draco raised a delicate eyebrow before looking to the other boy, who just hoped in without opening the door, stuffing his skateboard behind the driver's seat. "This car functions?"

"Bessie? Yeah she does! The old girl has some miles left in her," The brunette patted the dashboard affectionately before grinning to the boy. "What's your name anyways?"

"Draco," he replied, automatically, still eyeing the car uncertainly.

"Draco? Like after the constellation?"

The blonde raised his eyebrow again. "How do you—"

The brunette blushed. "I can be a dork sometimes. Now are you getting in or not?"

The blonde hesitated but decided to get in the car, hoping and praying the ancient car wouldn't blow up on him. After a moment, as the brunette turned the car on, the blonde turned and stated flatly. "I've told you my name but you haven't mentioned yours yet."

"True. That's unfair I guess." The brunette smiled broadly. "I'm Harry." He extended his hand, which Draco took after a slight pause. "Now let's get going, Dragon-boy."

Author's Note. I live in Los Angeles and, like young Draco, I moved here after running away from my home. I've since fallen in love with the city and the boy who saved me from the streets, my current partner of five years, so I decided to write this story in part to commemorate this city and some of the magical places that I've explored with the man I love.

Anyways! Let me know what you think about this story as a concept. This is one of the few stories that I don't have a real solid structure for. The basic plot is skeletal but changeable, so any input on what you think should befall our boys would be greatly appreciated.