Dedicated to the ever-awesome innocentlittledarkangel, who became an awesome friend to me and is a fellow Drarry-shipper. A big shout-out to pukingpastillies, an amazing deviantart artist who was kind enough to let me use one of her Drarry pieces as the story's cover.

Boo-Boo be Gone

Before his mommy insisted that he comes along with her and daddy to their friend's house for tea, six year old Harry who was five at the time was hesitant. Especially when she mentioned that her friend had a son around his age.

He was never good with new people, except for the snakes in his mom's garden. Then again snakes weren't people. It was easier being friends with them than with people his own age because people his own age were hard to please. They tended to be annoyed when he said too little or said too much. They found it odd that he preferred books and gardening over smashing toys together until they break. Most of the time they simply believed that he was the freak his cousin, Dudley, told them that he was, one that needed to be avoided at all cost.

He was scared that this boy would be like all the others: take one look at him, his crooked glasses that made his eyes look big, his favorite sneakers that were terribly worn from use, his body that was too small and skinny, and dismiss him.

His nerves were stacking on top of each other like blocks when they entered the Malfoy manor, which was the size of his house, times a hundred. His eyes darted from the chandeliers, the portraits that stared back at him, to the family that greeted them in the living room. The man sat on his chair like a king on his throne, his long blonde hair tied back, his grey eyes cool as he nodded towards them. The woman reminded him of a queen from his storybooks with her blonde hair that was white as snow and fine clothing. The young boy by her side, blonde hair neat and combed back, eyes grey and cool, could be easily be mistaken for a prince.

His nerves were still jumping when the boy examined him, but lessened when he was escorted to his room. The prince-boy showed him his favorite toy, a jeweled-model snake that came to life at his command. His nerves then started to settle when the boy challenged him to a duel of hissing and laughing. His worries had completely vanished by the end of the day when he made himself a friend. An actual friend.

"You're my new best friend." Draco told him with a smile that was as bright as Harry's.

That had happened a year ago, and the two were still just as close. Practically inseparable. Playing together. Owling each other. Sleeping over at each other's houses. Going on adventures.

"Getting into trouble is more like it." Uncle Severus often said, to which the boys responded to the accusation with smiles. Harry's sheepish, Draco's taunting.

"Looks like someone had his arse bitten by the grumpy Grouch." Draco whispered. Harry covered his mouth to hold in his giggles.

Of course nothing in this world was perfect. Even a good book had its sour moments. Same went with friendships. Draco was one of the greatest friends Harry had ever had. He loved adventure books as much as Harry did, and the two would often act out their favorite parts. He knew had to have fun, coming up with ideas that were bound to get them into trouble but still Harry went along with because they were too good to resist. He often stood up for Harry, like the time his aunt made an unexpected (and unwelcomed) visit to their house when the Malfoys were over and Dudley pushed Harry into the mud. Draco didn't only throw a heavy rock at the spoiled boy's face, but threatened to feed him to his snake. But as good as a friend he was, Harry knew that Draco had his moments.

"Harry."

Like the times Draco could really act like a snob, sneering at some of the toys and things Harry liked that were Muggle-made, claiming that being near them made his skin itch. He could be bossy, too. And a brat and a real pain.

"Harry."

Like the fact he seemed to have a hard time understanding that a person lying on their bed, wrapped in their blankets, meant that it was sleepy-time. Not annoy Harry time.

"Harry!" Hands grabbed onto his shoulders and shook his so hard; he could feel his head bouncing off his pillow like a trampoline. "Wake up, you git."

"Prat." said-git murmured, refusing to open his eyes. He was too cozy. His bed was so warm and nice. Whatever Draco wanted, it could wait.

He could feel that look that was a combination of a pout and a scowl spread across Draco's face. The look that said don't you dare ignore me, I'm far too important for you to do such a thing. "If you don't get up, I'll pour water all over you."

A green eye slowly cracked open, staring out his window, where the night-sky greeted him with the moon's soft glow. Irritated, both eyes opened as the owner of those eyes stared up at the taller boy standing on his knees, hovering over him.

"You wouldn't dare."

The glint in those mischievous gray eyes said it all. Harry turned onto his back, looking over at his alarm clock that was sitting on his nightstand. It was almost two in the morning.

"Go to bed, Draco."

It surprised him that his best friend was actually up. They spent the entire day playing outside until Harry felt heavy drops of rain falling onto his head. They made it back inside the house just in time before rain was pouring from the sky. Even though rain kept them inside, the fun didn't stop. They played with their toys, built a gigantic castle from his Legos, and stuffed their faces with the triple chocolate ice-cream sundaes his mommy made for them.

Harry suspected that it was the ice-cream that made him so sleepy. He remembered being filled with so much of energy and laughing with Draco as they suffered through their brain-freeze. Challenging Draco to a game of tag and using all the energy he had to keep out of the boy's reach as he ran all over the house. Then around the time when Draco finally caught him, he felt his energy fading as heaviness was creeping in.

It didn't matter though. He was still tired. He wanted to sleep.

His best friend sighed dramatically, draping his arm over his head and falling flat across Harry, ignoring the smaller boy's surprised yelp. "I can't. The sky's awake. I'm awake. So we have to play."

Even though he was still mad that he was woken up, Harry couldn't stop himself from giggling. Draco could be so silly sometimes.

"Play by yourself." Harry used most of his strength to roll onto his side, forcing the blonde off him. Draco slid off the bed and landed on the floor.

No sooner did Harry began to sink back into sweet dreamland, something soft yet big smacked his head.

Huffing, he turned onto his back. Draco was back on the bed, armed with his pillow, smirking at Harry's scowl.

"That was for pushing me off the bed, you git."

Harry responded not with words but action. He reached for his pillow and returned the favor to Draco, whacking him across the face, almost making him fall off the bed again. "Prat."

Draco stuck his tongue out. He didn't look as intimidating as he would've liked. It was hard to with feathers stuck in your hair and one that was still on your nose, no matter how much you twitched. He glared at him for a second or two, looking like he was torn between being staying mad or explaining why he was still up. The latter won. "Up for an adventure?"

Harry stared back, feeling a smile coming to his lips.

Those four words carried various meanings. To the adults, it was a head-ache caused by the latest mischief the boys gotten themselves into. To the boys, it was pure, exciting fun.

Those four words that gave Harry the strength to slid off his bed and accept Draco's patient's hand. He struggled trying to keep up with his friend's fast pace as Draco directed them to his secret destination. Though it was Harry's house, Draco knew every room, floor, and turn, as though he lived there. This didn't surprise Harry. They spent so much time at each other's houses, it was like they had two homes. And his was much smaller than Draco's house, so exploring wasn't that much of a challenge.

Draco's guidance directed them to the upstairs attic.

"What are we doing here?" There was no way Draco woke him up to come to the attic. As much he loved his house, Harry knew the attic was his friend's least favorite room in the house ever since a spider tried to make a home in his hair.

"Looking for the friends-day gifts. At dinner, I saw our fathers come upstairs with something big and wrapped. Two somethings."

Friends-day was like Harry and Draco's birthdays combined into one. After all, it was celebrating a special day. The day, May seventeenth, Harry met the prince-boy, the two engaged in a hissing duel, and became best friends. His mother, touched by how close they became, thought that it was a day that should be celebrated. Auntie Cissa agreed. She was never one to deny herself the pleasure of arranging events. She thought friends-day was special day that required piazza, such as a party with decorations, cake, and gifts, a word that brought a smile to the boys' faces.

"We should wait," Harry said, though he was itching to find out what their dads had gotten them. "It's only two days away."

He didn't need to look at Draco to know that he was rolling his eyes. "Two days too long."

Somehow Harry found himself alongside with Draco searching potential hiding spots in the small room, dodging their ways through cobwebs, choking from the dust bunnies. They searched and searched every possible spot, close to giving up until they came across an old trunk Harry's dad told him belonged to his grandfather.

The boys stared at the trunk, then at one another.

You think? Harry's eyes seemed to say.

Worth a shot. Draco shrugged.

Harry murmured the password he knew would break the trunk's seal. Nestled inside the trunk underneath an old baby blanket were two large gifts wrapped in green, tied with red.

"Wow."

He felt Draco stepping beside him, his gray eyes widening. The two looked at each other, identical smiles crossing their faces, as they pulled the gifts from the trunk and tore through the wrapping paper.

"Whoa." Draco murmured, astonished. Harry didn't blame him. He was shocked, too.

Their dads had gotten them brooms. Top of the line, incredibly-crafted, actual real brooms.

"I thought we wouldn't be able to fly till we got to Hogwarts," That was what his mom always told him. They still had five more years to go before they received their letters.

"Guess Father was able to persuade them. Not surprising," Draco looked up from their brooms and smiled. "Us Malfoys can be charming."

"And annoying." Harry replied with a smirk.

"Git."

"Prat."

There were times Harry knew when Draco was exaggerating, but then there were times when he wasn't that far from the truth. Going by his point of Malfoys being charming, it was the only explanation Harry could think of as to why they were suddenly outside the house. His house wasn't a huge castle with massive lands like Draco's house, but the backyard was big enough with tall trees, wide space, and "free, clear sky," Draco said with a wink.

Draco settled onto the broom and took off with a kick. He was going up five-ten-close to twelve feet. He was leveled with the highest branch of one of the trees. The grin he wore on his face was so wide, it was close to maddening.

"Cool." Harry smiled.

"Well, don't just stand there," Draco told him. "Come up."

The smile fell from the boy's face as his stomach churned nervously. He has been dreaming about flying practically forever. Being so high up, houses the size of ants underneath his feet, the clouds so close and the stars a touch away.

Dreaming was one thing. Doing was another. As much as he wanted to get onto the broom and speed towards to the sky, he was nervous. What if flying wasn't as great as he imagined? What if he fell? What if they got caught? What if Draco somehow got hurt?

Draco sensed his friend's anxiety and lowered himself, hovering five feet above ground, holding onto his broom tightly. He stared at Harry with a thoughtful expression, almost as if he could read his thoughts.

"Scared, Potter?"

The cockiness in the boy's voice surprised Harry, breaking him free from his thoughts. Draco wore a biting smile. Harry scowled at him. He had been teased and bullied before. By Dudley, Dudley's friends, the kids at school. With Draco, there was a difference between his teasing and theirs. Draco didn't tease to be mean. Harry had seen his friend tease other people, so he knew what Draco was like when he was being mean. He was never mean to him, though. He teased Harry because he liked to provoke him, to push him. Each taunt served as a challenge to test the limit of his bravery.

"You wish." Harry snapped.

I'm Daddy's son, he reminded himself. I can be brave. Just like him.

While this was the first time Draco was flying on an actual broom, he had years of lessons to prepare him for flying. Harry didn't. All he could do was hope that he didn't make a fool of himself in front of Draco. The prat was never one to pass up a teasing moment, and he knew that Draco would hold something as embarrassing as him slipping off his broom over his head for months. Years probably.

Harry laid the broom out in front of him and swung one leg over, as if he were on a bike. He gripped tightly onto the broom.

Before he could even draw in a breath, his feet were no longer touching the ground. Instead they were dangling limply as he hovered twenty feet in the air.

He stared at the ground, baffled, his heart pounding as he studied the distance between the grass and their brooms, feeling his lips turn into a smile.

He couldn't believe it. He was actually up. He was actually flying.

All his worries and fears melted away the higher their brooms lifted them. Twenty feet-twenty-five feet- thirty-five. He felt too at ease, being close to the sky that was a mix of dark blues and black, watching the beautiful stars that looked like broken pieces of diamonds. It was definitely better than dreaming. Ten times better.

A hand kissed the back of his head, knocking him back into the present. The touch startled him, nearly throwing him off the broom.

The culprit sailed by him, throwing a smirk over his shoulder. "Tag. You're it!"

"Cheater!" Grabbing tightly onto his broom, Harry went after him.

Tag was already fun enough when they were on ground, running, but flying made it more fun. Nothing but them and the free air. Cutting through the sky, trying to out-fly each other, avoid getting touched by the dreaded tag-hand while laughing so hard at their fun their stomachs were hurting. In a way, it reminded Harry of the game his daddy used to play, Quidditch. The only thing they needed was a golden snitch.

Then again, maybe it was better that they didn't have it. Draco was a sneaky snake in tag, and brought out that same competitive streak in this game. Only Merlin knew what Draco would be like in Quidditch. Harry prayed for the poor fool that would go up against Draco.

"Why don't you just give up, Potter?" Draco smirked. "Surrender now and your defeat shall be merciful."

"Never!"

Laughing, Draco flew faster. Harry went as fast as he could go, but it didn't seem to be enough. The more he moved in, the more distance Draco stretched out between them.

He knew it too, the prat. The all too-pleasing smile on his face said it all. "Might as well give up! You'll never defeat Prince Hiss Dragon."

Harry was about to reply, to say that the Brave Lion would never surrender, till something tall and wide caught his attention. One Draco was attempting at dangerously-fast pace. "Draco, look out!"

Startled, Draco turned his attention to his front-

His broom was able to slide past the maze of branches, but its owner wasn't so lucky. Draco managed to avoid a head-on collision with the first tree, but he wasn't as fortunate with the second tree, slamming face-first against the tall oak behind it. The impact was so hard, Harry winced from the sound, practically feeling it. He watched in horror as his best friend was knocked off his broom. The branches whipped and lashed against him as he tumbled down the tree, landing hard on the ground with a loud bam.

"Draco!" Harry dived down. The moment his feet touched the ground, he tossed his broom aside as he rushed over to his friend.

Leaves were tangled in Draco's white-blonde hair. Dirt was smeared on his green pajamas. There was a nasty scarth on his left cheek; probably from one of the branches. But the scrap on his cheek was nothing compared to the horrible bruise embedded in his left knee that was bleeding. Blood wasn't just leaking from his wound, it was pouring from it, running down in streaks on his leg, smearing his torn pajama pants, painting the ground crimson red.

Draco looked up from his bloody knee to Harry. Any other time, Draco would shrug off the wound, telling him that scars should be embraced. But not this time. Tears, plump and hot, streamed down the pale boy's cheeks while his body shook violently with sobs he was trying to keep in with his sealed lips.

Harry pulled Draco against him and hugged him tight, just like Draco did whenever Harry cried. But it didn't seem to bring him much comfort. If anything, it only made him sob harder.

He did the only other thing he could do at the moment. He called for help.

"Mommy, Daddy!" he screamed.

He could see the light in his parents' room going off, and heard the sounds from above. Minutes later his parents emerged from the house-his father hopping on one slipper-clad foot as he put on the other, his mother tying the knot of her white night robe.

"What happened?" His mom demanded. The worry in his mother's eyes darkened to anger as she took in the scene before her. Draco bleeding and trembling, her son holding him, the two brooms that should be upstairs in the attic out of their boxes. One in pieces, the other slightly bent.

Harry knew that tone. That tone meant dinner with no dessert. March straight into his room and think about what he did. His mommy was mad. And disappointed. He couldn't tell which was the worser of the two.

Poor Draco looked scared. Harry could tell by his trembling. He wasn't sure if it was because of the bleeding, the pain, or the fact that his plans for a fun adventure backfired.

"It was my fault," Harry told her before a word escaped Draco's lips. "It was an accident."

Just as he thought, his mom didn't look pleased. In fact from the tightness of her lips she looked like she wanted to say more, but remembered there was more important things at hand. She gently pried Draco away from her son's tight grip and carried him into the house, mindful of his wounds, shushing his cries with soft smiles and touches.

Tears blurred Harry's eyes as he watched them go. This was all his fault. If only he had put his foot down. He should have never let Draco talk him into opening their gifts early. He should have insisted that they stayed in bed. He should have-

His daddy swept him into his arms, laying his head against his shoulder and rubbing his back as he cried.

"Shh," James whispered, brushing his son's hair back. "It's okay, lion. It's okay."

"I ruined your gifts." Harry sobbed.

"Hey now. It's alright. Besides I should have known that you two were going to find them. You're too clever for your own good."

"Mommy's mad at me."

James shook his head, placing a kiss on his forehead. "She's only upset and worried."

"Draco got hurt."

"He'll be just fine." James rubbed Harry's back.

Harry pulled back slightly to look at his father. It was almost like looking into a mirror that told the future. He was almost a clone of his dad, except for his eyes. Harry always been told that he had his mother's eyes.

His daddy never lied to him, so if he said things were alright then they had to be. Right? "Pinky-swear?" He held his finger out.

His daddy smiled at him and wiped away his tears, hooking his pinkie with his. "Pinky-swear."

His dad took him back to the house. The moment they were inside, his mom came down from upstairs, carrying her Healer's kit. She placed the kit on the table, kneeled, and beckoned her son. The earlier signs of anger melted away from her face when she saw dry tears on Harry's cheeks.

Harry was hesitant to come close to her, wary of her anger. When he reached the last step, he fell into her open arms, holding her tight and trying his hardest not to cry again.

"Oh, my baby," She returned the hug, holding him just as tight. Like her husband, she waited until she was sure that he was calm again. When she was sure he was okay, she pulled back slightly, brushing away a tear that rolled down his cheek.

"You don't hate me, mommy? Right?"

"Never," she smiled. "I could never hate you, Harry. There will be times when I get upset with you. Even angry, but never hate. You're my son and I love you."

"What about Draco? Does he hate me?"

"Of course not." she assured him.

"But he was hurt."

"Not severely. A scratch on his cheek and a twisted knee. I gave him some lotions to mend the pain," Her smile fell slightly, turning serious. "I hope you boys take this as lesson that certain adventures are not to be pursued. Even for two brave wizards."

Harry nodded his head obediently.

His mommy wasn't through yet. "Also that before you get on brooms, you should learn the proper instructions on flying first."

In other words they'd have to wait until they got their flying lessons at Hogwarts before they touched a broom again.

Harry tried hard not to show his disappointment. Those few minutes up in the air left a thirst in him he knew that wouldn't be satisfied until he was up there again. He wanted to protest, but wisely kept his mouth shut. That wasn't important. What was important was the fact that Draco was okay. For the most part anyway.

Speaking of which…

"Can I see Draco now?"

"Of course you can. He's up in your room."

With another kiss to his forehead and a gentle pat on his back, she sent him off. A small smile lifted her lips as she watched her son go. One of the many, many arguments she had with her sister was over Harry's sensitivity. Petunia believed that he was too sensitive and needed to toughen up. It seemed odd to her that her sister would criticize her son like that, considering the fact Dudley usually threw explosive tantrums when things didn't go his way. She might see it as a weakness, but Lily believed that it was another strength Harry possessed. Being sensitive meant that her son simply was mindful of people's emotions. That he was compassionate.

"You were right."

Lily turned her attention from her the staircase over to her husband who greeted her with a smile. "What about?"

"Many things for one," he laughed softly. "And among those things would be the boys. I won't lie. I didn't believe it when you told me in beginning, even when Narissa backed you up. I figured it was just you two being hopeless romantics. But you were right. Harry and Draco do share a bond."

Lily had suspected as much shortly after the boys had meet. The way the two looked at each other with pure, unmistakable trust and warmth. The smiles they gave each other that spoke of nothing but affection and fondness. The way they held each other. Whenever she came into the room to check on them during naptime, she'd find the boys entangled in each other, Harry's head lying against Draco's chest, Draco's cheek resting against Harry's head.

"A bond that will only stronger in time." she told him.

Harry was hesitant to go through the door. His daddy said that Draco would okay, his mommy treated his wounds, but he was still scared. What if Draco was mad? What if he hated him?

He took in a deep breath and opened his door. Draco laid in the bed, dressed in one of his pajamas his mommy must have replaced with his torn ones, his back to Harry. He didn't move at the sound of the door or answer to the call of his name. Harry didn't know whether it should be a good or bad thing.

Bad, he decided, walking slowly over to the bed. He sat down next to Draco and laid a hand against his shoulder. Draco tensed at the touch and refused to look at him. There were traces of tears streaked on his cheeks while new ones filled his tears. Very, very bad.

His heart ached. It was strange to him seeing Draco like this. In all the times the two had been together, Harry could count the number of times he had seen Draco cried on one hand. Usually he was the one that cried, and Draco was the one that made him feel better.

Biting his lip, Harry glanced around the room, seeking an answer. On the floor laid one of the spell books his mom loaned to them. They spent hours flipping through the pages, eager to learn more magic. Especially Draco, who collected spells the same way Harry collected books.

A smile, the first one since the flying fiasco, graced Harry's lips as an idea hit him.

He slipped away from his room and came back minutes later with a small bowl. He sat on the bed and waited patiently till Draco lifted his head up from the pillow to look at him.

"There's a new spell I wanna show you."

Draco stared at him for a second or two, surprise and slight suspicion lighting his eyes, looking more like his former self. "What type of spell?"

"A healing spell." Harry grinned.

His best friend was the only one he knew who could roll his tear-filled eyes and not look silly. "Auntie Lily already used those spells on me."

"Not the one I know. One that I can only share with awesome people. Like you."

Harry wasn't sure if it was the excitement of a new spell or being known as one of those awesome people that made Draco's suspicion ease to surprise. Whatever the case, it definitely caught his attention.

"Show me the spell." he demanded, sounding more like himself.

"Okay," Harry presented him the bowl he brought along, holding a special mix he made in the bathroom. Baby powder mixed with golden glitter. He grabbed a handful of the powder and rubbed it in his hands, smiling at the puzzled frown Draco gave him. "You have to close your eyes for the spell to work. No peeking."

Draco looked at him like he was mental, but complied, closing his eyes.

When he was sure that Draco's eyes were firmly closed, he took the powder and brushed it against his knee that was smooth once again, as if the previous wound was sewn up by an invisible thread and needle. "Abracada-abracadi. Abracada-abracadone. Abracada, boo-boo be gone."

"Now I'm convinced that you've lost-" Draco cut himself off, his words lost in translation as he laughed while Harry peppered his knee with sloppy, wet kisses. "Get off me, you goofball."

Harry, beaming at sound of his friend's laughter, did no such thing. He increased his antics, his lips traveling up Draco's leg, to his stomach, a sensitive spot that made Draco laughed harder, and up to his face that he showered with kisses, his words mixed with laughter as he repeated the chant. "Boo-boo be gone. Boo-boo be gone. Boo-boo be gone."

Draco's tears were all but a distant memory. The boy's earlier tears dissolved into loud bouts of laughter that echoed throughout the room. He tried freeing himself from his friend's grip, but Harry refused to go without a fight, using his weight to trap the taller boy, smearing his face with kisses.

"Cut it out, you git!" The demand lost of its fire with Draco's words being overpowered by his laughter.

"Boo-boo be gone." He cupped Draco's face and kissed his cheeks.

"Cut it out, you silly little-" Draco sharply turned his face, unknowingly trading his cheek for his lips. Harry's lips were against his in an instant.

Harry's gasp was swallowed by the kiss. Draco's laughter ended abruptly.

Emerald-green and molten-silver stared at one another, frozen as statues, stunned by the burst of warmth that sparked from the touch and the odd sense of ease that wrapped around them like a warm blanket.

After a few moments, Harry pulled away from Draco, sitting up. Draco followed his lead, touching his lips.

Silence hung between the two, until it was finally broken by Harry, who couldn't help but laugh. Draco stared at him, his lips twitching. It wasn't long before he was laughing along with his friend.

"Boo-boo be gone," Harry hissed like a snake, causing them both to laugh harder.

"Silly git," Draco laughed. "The serpent salute can't be an ingredient for your spell. I bet you made it up."

Harry grinned. Draco wacked his arm playfully. "It worked, didn't it? It made you feel better. You're smiling."

Draco opened his mouth, and then shut it when he realized that he didn't have a rebuttal. Unable to admit defeat, he pounced on his friend, trapping him, and nearly tickled the life out of him. For extra measure, he grabbed the powder Harry used to "heal" him and smudged it against the boy's face and hair, relishing in the playful protests and giggles from the smaller boy.

Their laughter and playing slowly died down as exhaustion began to sink in. Yawning softly, Draco laid back on the bed. Harry fell against him, laying his head on his chest. As if it were pure instinct, Draco's arms wrapped themselves around him, his chin resting on Harry's soft hair.

"Silly git." Draco said.

"So are you." Draco didn't need to look down to see the small smile curling Harry's lips. He could practically feel it.

"Fine, but you are first," He peered down at his friend, watching as those emerald greens he adored slowly close. "I guess it's one of the reasons why you're my best friend."

Harry was too tired to hug Draco, so he settled with a soft kiss to his elbow. "Abracada," he murmured softly, falling fast asleep.

Silly git, Draco thought with affection as he looked down at his best friend. "Boo-boo be gone." he whispered, pressing a kiss against his forehead. He held the small boy tighter and followed him into dreamland.

Please review. It would make me so happy