My Hero
Chapter One
Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I don't own any of these cool kids. I do, however, own the crap I put them through.
Note: Slash warning, obviously. Some brief language, and implied abuse- but read anyway, and I hope any confusion you might have gets cleared up in later chapters. Harry's character is a little AU, but I've tried to justify the changes to the best of my ability. Just- read it. You'll see later.
It was kind of... familiar. I hadn't meant to, but I was starting to remember things. A little out of character for me, to be sure. It wasn't as though I had blocked it completely out of my memory, I had mostly avoided the thought. Ten years ago, Malfoy had been my friend.
I lived at 23rd Maple Court. Malfoy lived down the road.
Ours was a lavish house, like many of the purebred family's homes, passed down through the centuries- we had this fabulous chandelier that hung in the foyer- it used to sparkle in the moonlight that streamed through our french windows. But I didn't spend much time inside... I preferred to sit on the bench in the patio out back and stare into the distance. I was one of those outfielder kids, in Muggle speak- the kind who would get hit in the head with a baseball during the Little League games their desperate father figures put them into.
We had grounds, too- there was this creek that ran through a section of particularly shady birch trees, I used to play in it, and come home all muddy and wet and smiling.
I met Malfoy when I was four. There was some remaining animosity between our 'mothers' from the War, but mostly they didn't mind us spending time together.
Draco hadn't known his father for the first six years of his life. Mr. Malfoy was in Germany, picking up from where the War had left him- friendless, master-less, and hated by much of the wizarding community. I suppose he just figured it would be better to leave the child with Narcissa and their piles of money, at least to keep the boy from unnecessary cruelty.
Draco had a tree-house. We'd used to pretend to be detectives and the tree-house was our hideout. There was also this rope-swing in our backyard that had been there for years, and Draco and I used to take turns seeing who could jump farthest from it. I tried showing him my creek, once- but Malfoy was Malfoy and getting dirty just wasn't his cup of tea.
It was when his father returned that Malfoy started getting cold and distant. I didn't talk to him much throughout first and second grade, distracted by Gran's fascination in this 'squibism' and how I was acquiring it. Then in third grade I was sent to a remedial school for young wizards- and Draco continued to be home-taught by his father.
I came back summer of fourth grade, and Malfoy was suddenly the Big Bully on the Block. Well- court. And after a few blows to the nose, I began to forget that this boy had ever shown any compassion to me.
So it was with all confusion that I had taken Draco's invitation and come here tonight.
I didn't have to wait long. If Draco was to show up at all, he would do it quickly. He acknowledged my presence briefly before grabbing my hand and pulling me into an empty classroom. He motioned me not to speak, and so I didn't. We sat down.
"Let me just get right to it. I saw what he did to you last night. I want to- wait, get back here!"
I had immediately jumped up and rushed at the door. Malfoy was quick to pull me back again.
"Okay, calm down. I'm not doing this because I like you- in fact, on other terms I'd glee at the prospect of you getting hurt- but I don't want to see someone else taken down so completely. I don't want to see this happen to you, too."
"How do you- wait, you? He- okay, no. I don't want to know about that. Maybe you saw something, but you probably mis-misinterpreted it. It doesn't matter."
Draco tried again, but I let my eyes flick to the floor before rising and leaving. He let me go.
I didn't go back to my dorm that night. In all honesty, I was afraid. If Harry knew that Malfoy knew that- well, I would be in deep shit.
Instead, I went to the Astronomy Tower.
The view from there was awesome. I'd say it was my favorite place on the grounds, second only to the Greenhouses. No one had come up to fuck yet, and there were no classes taking place, so it was relatively quiet. Quiet enough to give me a chance to think. So quiet any remaining semblance of sanity would be chased away by the quickly circulating thoughts.
He knew. Somebody saw. Moreover, he led me to believe that it had happened to him, too. And hadn't Harry clearly stated that they were the only ones like... this, in the whole castle? I was still having difficulty grasping the concept that Malfoy would even let anybody do something like that to him.
Harry said he was the only one who could ever love me. He smiled, saying the first scratches were just love notes. And the cuts got deeper and I let it happen.
Harry used to be my hero.