"As a child, Draco would draw a lightning bolt on his forehead in the safety of his room and pretend he was Harry Potter, the famous boy the whole wizarding world loved." I saw that quote on a picture, found on the interwebs, and the idea popped into my head and I couldn't go to bed until it was written. Reviews and suggestions are appreciated.
Enjoy the one-shot. :)
Tiny fists clench around the black marker. Lifeless, gray eyes dart over to the door that separated him from his parents. He was about to do something bad, absolutely terrible, that could get him into trouble were mother and father to find out. Not a sound could be heard from the hallway though; the perfect time to put the marker to use.
Gray orbs seek out his reflection in the mirror before him- blonde hair, grey eyes, and scrawny build. He was the complete opposite of the boy who lived. He stared a moment longer before raising the marker to his forehead. It took all his willpower to keep the marker from shaking, the tip dangling a centimeter away from his face. Hadn't father always said to be more like the boy who lived? The thought alone was what brought him to the extreme of wishing to be Harry Potter. Harry was brave, courageous and heroic. Draco was anything but that.
A deep breath allowed the blonde boy to press the marker tip to his forehead, drawing a neat lightning bolt in the center. The smallest smile crossed his lips. He, Draco Malfoy, had done it! Now he and the boy who lived shared the lightning bolt that would lead to fame, fortune, and being loved by all.
Draco found himself imagining the life of the Potter boy. He could picture people hugging him, asking for autographs, holding a special spot in the wizarding world's heart. The marker, an inked quill in his imagination, rose in the air to sign a chicken-scratch, only the best hand writing from a five and a half year old, autograph. He continued to play, smiling for the cameras and pretending to answer questions. The brief lapse of reality put a natural smile on his face as it brought his worries away from his clingy mother and scary, controlling father.
"Draco, what do you think you are doing?" Lucius Malfoy asked, smirking when his son looked crestfallen and scrambled to cap the marker, then stand before him with stick straight posture. "And what is that ridiculous thing on your forehead?"
"Nothing father." Draco gulped and rubbed at his head in an attempt to smudge the lightning bolt on his forehead. Lucius stepped forward and grabbed Draco's arm, looking over his son with a more soft expression.
"Just wash up and prepare for supper little dragon. And get rid of the mark on your face. Lord knows Narcissa won't want to bathe you again today." Lucius stated before leaning down to place a kiss on the child's forehead. He turns away quickly, departing down the hall. A sigh of relief left Draco's lips; the young boy was shocked by his father's behavior. Daddy was not upset with his moment of playing pretend. He could join the family dinner, knowing that the encounter with Lucius would only be shared by father and son.