::1::
The first thing Draco Malfoy did after leaving Hogwarts and his spoilt life behind was adopt a dog.
Well, to be honest, that wasn't quite the truth. He got a flat first—overlooking a rather shoddy part of London—with thin walls and spidery cracks that acted much more sinister at night, darkening as the bright ivory moon peeked through grimy windows. The floors were cheap tile, checkered with grimy tan and dull brown. The tap in the kitchen almost never worked; the bathroom was small, its contents crowding the room. The bathtub was practically an antique, with its rusted silver and battered porcelain; the mirrors were speckled with age, marring Draco's reflection anytime he looked.
His bedroom was most likely the worst. He had patchy sheets and comforters, a lumpy mattress and thin pillows. The room itself was mostly bare, with a rickety dresser holding clothes far too expensive. There was a side table too, next to his bed, with a lamp that sometimes worked. He kept his wand next to him, on that table.
The wand had been returned to him quietly, with no note. It had simply been there one day, at his doorstep. Draco had never parted with it since.
Truthfully, he had been quite surprised to see it still intact, and much more surprised at its return. He had chosen not to question a good thing, however—seeing as how good things were so very rare in his life at the moment.
The reason Draco planned on getting a dog was attributed to his neighbors—all young muggles, and engaging in activities the blonde wizard had been surprised to witness. To date, he had heard and seen screaming matches with the arthritic, half-blind landlord; physical fistfights with a large man who came round once a week, asking for pay—the muggles always asked for an extension, and their red-rimmed, bruised eyes shook as the man counted the meager amount of bills he received.
Draco had once been mistaken as one of the muggles, and the man had shoved him against the wall, his beefy arm around his pale throat, tightening quickly. He had been released, of course, with no apology—the man stared at him with his beady eyes, conveying a simple threat. The bruise around Draco's throat had taken days to heal.
If it had been only the muggles that were bothering him, Draco would have adjusted to it and at least been able to function. But the Wizarding world was harassing him as well—nameless, faceless threats waited for him at every turn.
And then he started being stalked—everywhere he went, the same eyes were following him.
He thought it was a male—the stature was bulky, not at all feminine. But he supposed he couldn't be sure, with Polyjuice being an option. The stalker liked to stare at him through his window, a twisted smirk on his face beneath the shadows of his robe.
In the beginning, the figure had kept his distance. The dark stare caused the light wisps of hair on the back of Draco's neck to prickle; the eyes followed his form, prodding at his skin, making the tension in his mind thicken.
It had clearly changed. Draco had arrived one evening after a particularly grueling and shameful shift at the petrol shop across the street from his flat—a rather obese drunkard, after paying for his grease-laden crisps, decided to make some disparaging remarks about his looks ("How much do you spend in the mirror, keeping your face pretty like that?") and Draco, under the watchful eye of his supervisor, had to paste on a smile and tell the vermin to have a good day.
If only his father could see him now—dethroned and living like a Weasley. No, worse than a Weasley. He hadn't known such a thing was possible until he'd gotten himself into this mess.
Anyhow, he'd arrived to his flat and saw a letter waiting for him. It essentially outlined a few vague threats regarding his manhood and quite a few ferocious jabs at his pureblood background; it ended with a promise to return at a later date—with a friend.
Draco suspected this 'friend' was someone either trained to hold him down as he got his arse kicked, or worse, someone from the Ministry.
They would be after him at some point—there were far more important Deatheaters that he at the present, ones who worked alongside with his father to pursue, but once the population of enemies and people to blame for all of the murders dwindled, they would search for Draco. Perhaps even plaster his face along the walls, cheering that the aftermath was over.
There would be time to think about his past later—particularly when his new home consisted of a cell in Azkaban. For now, the blonde would think of a temporary solution.
::2::
On a particularly foggy and grey morning, Draco found himself in front of the RSPCA shelter in London. He stared at the entrance for a moment, wondering if taking in a mongrel was really the best idea.
He had no one else to turn to—and really, how hard was it take care of a dog? They weren't particularly intelligent and simply needed three things to survive—food, water, and a place to sleep.
It sounded pretty straightforward to the youngest Malfoy, and with renewed confidence, he entered the shelter.
The first thing that hit him was the smell. Dry kibble, cheap cleanser, and the odor of urine wafted through the air. He wrinkled his nose. Undeterred, Draco followed the cartoonish signs labeled DOGS.
The barking and whimpering combined echoed against the hard concrete walls, furry faces staring at him, trying to get closer to their new visitor. It was quite possibly one of the more depressing things he had seen in his life—those overanxious, overexcited mutts each trying to outdo its neighbor. Their eyes all cried the same plea, however—take me with you.
Walking past the maze of kennels, Draco saw some vicious dogs, snarling as he got close. Some huddled in a corner, looking mournfully at him in the corner of their eyes. Ultimately, the wizard was quite sure he wasn't going to find what he was looking for and nearly turned around and left—except he found himself inching closer to a chocolate-colored Labrador, who eyed him with growing excitement.
When he finally decided to kneel down and offer a short pat with his pinky finger (no need to risk all of his fingers), the dog, managing to fit its muzzle through the bars, gave him a particularly slobbery kiss on his nose.
"Eugh!" spat out the wizard, who stumbled back and wiped his face, glaring at the animal, who simply raised its paw at him in attempts to have him return. "That was disgusting. Stupid mutt."
The aforementioned mutt simply stared at him in adoration.
"Look, I need a big, tough dog. A dog who'll bite an intruder's face off. What are you going to do? Lick him to death?"
Draco wondered when his life had gotten to the point to where he began to speak to dogs. An odd tingling burst in his chest. He wondered if the dog was carrying any diseases.
Cocking its head, the dog seemed to ask, Well? What are you waiting for?
"One night. If you mess up, I'm taking you back here," mumbled the blonde, taking the information card from the kennel.
The shelter kept him there for an additional hour, asking him questions about his application and then explaining how to care for a dog.
He was quite glad to be out of the place. The dog seemed to agree, as it dragged him outside with remarkable speed.
"You better do your job, dog. Your 'adoption fee' ate into my rent money," grouched the new owner.
The dog grinned.
::3::
The next twenty-four hours passed in absolute chaos. Draco had found out the hard way that his chosen mutt had a particular fondness for chewing dragon-skin boots, ruining a pair in approximately ten minutes.
The beast also seemed to adore seeking out anything of value and then destroying it to bits. Draco hadn't had a wink of sleep, what with the mongrel first deciding the bed was also a giant chew toy, and then later passing out beside him, successfully managing to take up almost the whole of the bed.
To make matters worse, Draco was also horrified to learn that he was, in fact, responsible for any…excrement the foul beast happened to expel while on their daily jaunts. Despite the fact that he was living in a hovel at the moment, Draco still happened to retain some standards, and one of them was that he would never, ever pick up the rank waste of a beast lower than him.
"You," growled the irate blonde, "are going right back to that place this morning."
The mutt simply stared up at him vapidly, oozing a sort of pathetic adoration as it watched the youngest Malfoy ready himself for the trip back to London.
"Come on, you imbecilic animal," he said as he held the leash firmly in one hand and readied himself for the walk down the stairs—perhaps the most dangerous part of all, as the canine seemed to enjoy walking him as painfully as possible. Draco's left arm still ached from the 'walk' yesterday.
As he left the building, a familiar prickling sensation at the base of his neck warned him of the looming figure that had been around prior. He whirled around, successfully trapping himself in the tangle of leash as he tried to get to his wand.
It was during this incredibly ungraceful and particularly humiliating scene that a low growl ripped through his tense flailing. Bewildered, Draco paused, glancing down at the animal beside him, its teeth bared, the light glinting off them like a silent reaffirmation of its warning.
The cloaked figure had since departed, and Draco was left still quite befuddled with a garish shade of red leash wrapped around his waist. After freeing himself, the mutt—having decided that the danger had passed—was back to eyeing him with garish adoration.
Draco patted its head. "Good dog," he murmured faintly, still unsure of the events that had unfolded, but at least sure of one thing.
He would try to get a large bone from the deli shop on his way home from work today.
Perhaps the dog wasn't such a bad idea after all.
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
That's it for the first part. This will be fairly short—most likely three or four chapters only, and it's summer so I'll be able to get them up soon.
Yes, this will be Draco/Harry slash (with some decent smut sprinkled in later hopefully)
I couldn't figure out what sort of dog Draco would actually have, so I decided to be unoriginal and steal Tom Felton's dog from real life (who is not a lab, I believe, but it is brown).
Review please, they make me smile, and don't you think I should smile more?
-B.
xx