Note: This story will have 8 Chapters, all based on Draco/Harry through the years.

Year One: Hand of [prosperity], let me [go].

Make me smile, let me see
Who you really want to be
Walk with me, we're only kids
With that in mind, today we live

The first time Harry Potter met Draco Malfoy, their terrible lives began.

Draco Malfoy, Harry decides, is a spoiled, good for nothing brat. It kind of reminds him of Dudley, except Draco is much more skinny. (And much more good looking.)

Harry Potter, Draco decides, is a boy too skinny, too pale, too innocent, too...likable to be the 'Chosen' One. He is supposed to be the Harry Potter, after all. (Little does he know, that, 6 years from now, Harry Potter will be their hero. His hero. Draco's hero.)

They smile, because they are children, not yet involved with Voldemort and wars.

They smile.

Gold and silver, fire and ice
Opposites like cat and mice
White and black, with hearts so pure
You're my only cure

"If you come with me, you'll make friends more suitable for your title, Potter."

Harry looks into the face and hand in front of him. Draco has eyes like molten silver. They shine and glimmer, and Harry feels dizzy. Pale skin contrasts beautifully against black robes, and, a head of fine blond hair has Harry speechless. Draco was like a dragon. So dangerous, so curious, yet, at the same time, beautiful.

He was a murderer, but he was also a god. There was a light surrounding him, and, Harry feels enthralled.

The hand in front of him looked so soft, so inviting...

As he reaches out for it, a croak and a sound of footsteps jolts him out of his trance.

The look on Ron's face says it all, and Harry can only say what he feels at the moment.

"I'll find my own friends, thanks."

Listen to me, you are so real
Let my voice be a veil
Dream of riches, dream of love
Spare me the heart of a dove

Draco flies like the broom is part of his mind. He controls the broom to his every whim. The broom was like another servant, like Crabbe and Goyle, except the broom was much more intricate and amazing than walking rocks.

Harry Potter does not know that he has flying in his blood. All he knows is that Draco is an arrogant bastard for taking Neville's Remembrall, and that before he knew it, he was up in the air.

Harry also flies like the broom is part of his mind. The look on Draco's face is ugly and dark next to Harry's bright and shining face.

This is just the beginning to rivalry, they both think.

Look at me, see me breathe
All I want to do is believe
You are a friend, you are a lover
People like you love me forever

When Harry is hanging for life on his broom, Draco's heart beats. It beats in terror, and in fear, because Draco doesn't want Harry to fall. But, Draco is a Slytherin. And that means things.

That means that he must laugh, along with everyone else, at the poor boy hanging for life. He must laugh and point, but his heart will watch and falter.

However, Harry doesn't fall, just barely hangs on. And when he catches-swallows-the Snitch, his face is bright, shining, happy-and Draco feels that there could be nothing better in the world.

Pansy Parkinson's shrill screech jolts him out of his thoughts, and he remembers that he is a Slytherin, and Slytherin just lost.

Draco can only scream insults with his house instead of cheering Harry on.

Tell me hero, what do you seek?
The strong, ugly, proud, or weak?
Come to me, take my hand...
Let's run off, to another land.

Harry's hands clench around the Sorcerer's Stone, and he tries to run for it. He is only a boy, no match for Voldemort's and Quirrel's strength. In Harry's mind, he's already saying good-bye, saying thank you to his friends...

But he survives. Later on, Dumbledore tells him it's because he has love in his veins, love from his mother, love from his father.

Harry crosses the halls, back to Gryffindor tower, but a voice stops him. The voice sends shivers down his spine, because he feels like it's been forever since he'd heard it, and it's so soothing and soft and Draco, and Harry sees that it is Draco.

"Glad you didn't die, Potter," he says, with a smirk.

"Glad you actually care, Malfoy," Harry says, not missing a beat.

They glare at each other.

Next year was going to be fun.

Hand of [prosperity], let me go, let me free, and let me know.