Disclaimer: In no way do I attempt to claim ownership of Harry Potter and its associated characters, concepts or ideas. JKR kicks butt and I know it.

AN: This was a short attack that, well, attacked me today. I, in my great excitement for both the Harry Potter movie and final book (though sadly, neither or these will occur before the summer) I have rejoined the Harry Potter world. I believe my last attempt was a crossover... or something. This is just a one-shot clip. Enjoy.

Harry Potter: The Orphans Chronicles
Part 1: The Orphanage
By: Sagi

Harry Potter slammed the door to his bedroom shut and dropped onto bed in the room. The dark haired sixteen year old boy sighed, running one hand through his messy hair before rolling over, burying his face in a pillow and screaming out all of his frustration.

Furious pounding on the wall next to his head failed to cut off his scream, but the inhabitants of that room were far too used to this by now to really care.

Harry did cut off his scream a moment later however. He knew that if he kept it up the woman in charge of the Orphanage, the Matron would come up and demand to hear every single problem that he had encountered that day. As she so often did anyway. Though Harry knew that the woman at least cared about him; that was the last thing that he wanted at this particular moment. He didn't want to feel obligated to share his thoughts and feelings like all of the other orphans at St. Mungo's Orphanage. Besides, Harry wasn't stupid.

He knew she was already suspicious. He knew she'd be getting ready to trek up to his attic room.

The door slam would have alerted the Matron immediately that something was wrong with her favorite and second oldest charge. If anything worse than a door slam happened in the next few moments – including a drawn out scream or too heavy of pounding on the wall, she would come up and make him talk about his feelings. Regardless of is she came up or not the eldest orphan would come up anyway. They did share the room, after all, and nothing short of a stampeding rhino would keep him out.

Despite all of this, the scream hadn't let out all of Harry's frustration and anger so he settled for punching his pillow instead of screaming into it. It only helped marginally if he imagined a stupid looking freckled face in the soft folds of cotton and it was, if anything other than a different method, much quieter.

Sure enough, the door opened a few minutes later and a boy who looked about Harry's age walked into the room and sat down on the foot of the bed. His steps were quiet, his posture and composure perfect, even in the relative privacy of his own bedroom. This boy however much they shared the same age was the complete and perfect opposite of Harry. Where Harry had dark and endlessly messy hair, this boy was blond and straight haired. Where Harry's skin retained a tan all year long, this boy stayed milky pale despite the best efforts of the sun. Harry's name was common; this boy's name was elegant and exotic. Harry wore his emotions and his heart on his sleeve while this other boy remained a cool picture of composure.

Despite the small things, these two were as close as two people could be.

"Harry," the boy said now, placing on hand on Harry's shoulder and halting the relentless punching to what the blond now noticed to be his own pillow. His voice, while calm and light held a certain note of unyielding command in its tone. "Who was it this time?"

He said that unfairly, Harry dimly thought, his mind didn't need to jump immediately to the idea that Harry was often teased at school. It might be true, but that wasn't the only reason Harry would feel anger and frustration.

Harry stiffened slightly, but it wasn't from the hand on his shoulder or the fact that the other boy had caught him venting his anger. It was from the intensely perceptive question that left no room for denying an answer or even giving a false one.

"Weasley," he sighed finally, slumping his shoulders and letting most of his anger leave him, just like he always did. "As usual."

"More of the same filth that usually flows out of his commoners mouth, then?" The blond said with contempt and irony lacing his voice now. "One would think he would learn new and interesting insults, rather than sticking to the old and not quite so clever ones."

He prompted Harry with a lifted brow.

"Orphans don't belong at Hogwarts," Harry said in a mocking, half gasping voice, obviously repeating something that Weasley often said to him in the same tone. "Little orphan boys who rely on the state to pay their tuition because their parents left them no money should go to the public high school like all of the other swine in this town." A snort. "You and Malfoy don't belong here, Potter, and the sooner you see that the better."

The blond smirked again, his brow climbing higher, but before he could comment on the many flaws in Weasley's logic, Harry had completely turned around to face him an intent look on his face. All traces of the dry humor in his voice were not reflected in his expression.

The blond blinked in surprise. "Harry?" He asked hesitantly.

"That wasn't what he said to me though," Harry admitted, his eyes firmly locked on the bedspread, "not today anyway. Today he said something new."

His companion frowned but other than that didn't prompt Harry to offer whatever it was that Weasley had said to him.

"Draco," the dark haired boy said finally. "It's possible for people like... us to find love, isn't it?"

The boy – Draco – frowned and moved closer to Harry, moving the hand that was on his shoulder to cradle his cheek instead. That had been his guess. Weasley was on cloud nine lately – his girlfriend was usually the cause of that.

Harry, more than anybody, would need to be reassured about his right to be loved. It was because Harry didn't trust himself to trust people. It took years of true effort before he was able to truly relax around Draco and as far as Draco knew, he was the only person Harry allowed to be so close. Not even the Matron, who had cared for him lovingly for over a decade, was that close to Harry.

Having had an uncle who has tossed him into an orphanage as a birthday present at age five, after having parents die four years before, Draco knew exactly where Harry stood on the ideas of love and acceptance. He was skeptical; so much of his unfortunate childhood had imprinted his psyche negatively. It didn't help that nobody had even thought to adopt Harry in the long years that he had lived in St. Mungo's Orphanage.

Nobody had wanted Harry, despite the fact that he got perfect marks in school and had earned himself a scholarship for both high school and college. Despite the fact that he was athletic and graceful and quiet and willing to learn everything that somebody was willing to teach him. Despite the fact that he only grew more beautiful as his grew. Nobody had even thought about wanting him. Not as a parent, or a friend, or even a lover. The amount of time and patience that were needed when it came to winning Harry's heart wasn't something that most people possessed. When most people learned just how much effort was involved, they gave up. Nobody was as determined in the way that Draco had been determined.

It didn't help, now, that Weasley was flaunting his new girlfriend and taunting his girlfriend about this.

"Harry," he said again, his eyes now searching the deep green pools that led him deep into the other boy's soul. "You already have a love that is so much deeper and so much stronger than anything that Weasley could ever hope to gain."

Draco smirked then, letting the smugness shine through his own eyes. Letting Harry see the light and the love in his eyes that he only would ever let reflect in them for Harry to see. A hesitant smile appeared on Harry's face.

"You have my love," he said, letting his hand stroke Harry's tan cheek while his other hand found and squeezed the tips of Harry's fingers. "And despite how much Weasley thinks Granger's love can top that – it can't. Ever."

Harry smiled then, relaxing enough to allow Draco to lay him down on the pillow he had just been pummeling. Draco followed him. The bed – which was really two beds pushed together – adapted to them, as it always did. Dipping softly in the middle and allowing Draco to lay down – half on top of Harry – comfortably.

"Matron would be upset if she saw us like this," Harry mumbled, though no true worry laced his voice.

Draco shifted a little bit, perhaps shrugging, but not seeming to mind. Instead, he used the hand still resting on Harry's cheek to turn pink and chewed lips towards him and seal their mouths together with a kiss. Harry indulged him, trusted him, and most importantly kissed him back.

The Matron would be upset if she was them like this – but it wasn't as though she had never seen them like this before. Besides, Draco had told her when he first say Harry that they would become this way. And Weasley would have a heart attack if he saw them like this – but that was what made it more fun, at least for Draco.

"I wonder if we should tell Weasley just how much you can be loved," Draco murmured a few moments later – after their kiss had ended with a soft sound echoing between them. "Or just let him find out on his own."

"Either way I think he'll end up in a catatonic state," Harry murmured right back, though with a wicked grin dancing on both his lips and his eyes.

Draco smirked back, a plan for the next afternoon at school already forming in his imagination.

AN: I was having problems figuring out where to end it, but that seemed as good a place as any. There will probably be more of this from me in the future, though I make no promises.

-Ja.