Author: verisimilitude
Title: Changelings

Rating: R - later to be NC-17 for foul language [You know Draco…] and graphic sex. [More graphic later on…can be found here:]
Pairing: Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy
Warning: This does contain slash [male+male relationships]. So be warned. [Also, Part 2 is slightly…awful.]
Disclaimer: The characters that appear in the original Harry Potter stories are not mine. However, all others are. So, don't steal, kiddies. It's illegal. ::evil cackle::
Summary: Draco Malfoy, heir to an estimate of fifty trillion pounds, the son of an ex-Deatheater and Harry Potter, The-Boy-Who-Lived, with a dangerous background, find they don't clash as much as they thought. Features: New magical creatures, boy!slash, and some very strange happenings indeed.

A/N: Um, this is a strange story. There are angsty parts, humorous parts, light parts, dark parts, I'm pretty sure that Draco must have some form of PMS in here…but enjoy it nonetheless. This story is told primarily with just Draco's thoughts, although Harry's will pop up once in a while. If it gets confusing and you don't know what something means…it's probably because it's Draco thinking something and I just forgot to italicize them. Bare with me – I just crushed two of my fingers in a car door attached to a moving vehicle and they are just to the point of the blood boiling up to push my nails off my finger. That grossed you out, I know, and you want to read the story! So go ahead, unless you want to hear about my cold…XD

Chapter One

His Lordship Glimpses A God And Plots Revenge

1:London

Lord Draconis Puris Castus Lucien Malfoy [Don't laugh!], heir to an estimate of fifty trillion pounds, and son of an ex-Deatheater [Yeah, right.], hated someone with a vengeance. He wasn't sure whom exactly he was cursing at with such vehemence, but sooner or later he would, and they'd better watch out. He was sure it had to be someone within a twenty-meter perimeter, because his ears were turning red with unleashed fury. If he didn't scream at someone now, he would go crazy. Literally. There'd be a Malfoy massacring Muggles and Magic folk alike left and right if he didn't find somebody…There!

"You Hippogriff-fucking Muggle!" A red-faced Draco yelled. He breathed heavily into the shocked face of a teenage girl, clenching his white fists. "I hope a Horn-Backed Blue-Fire breathing Black Dragon chomps you up into little pieces, but spits you out because you taste like shit, then you hemorrhage to death in the Centaur Pits, and you go straight through the nineteen levels of Heeven and have unspeakable tortures created just for you in the Limbo!" By now Draco was feeling much better. His ears were gradually lessening in colour and close to their original white. However, now that his Temper was cooling, he began to notice other things…such as the fact that the shocked expression on the girl in front of him had given way to one hell of a scary look.

The girl, who now that Draco thought about it probably weighed more than he did, was giving him a death glare. "How dare you say all those insulting things to me! Who do you think you are, huh?" She jutted her chin up at him and poked his chest hard with her pointer finger.

Draco squeaked. "Er…Sorry, sorry. Momentary loss of brain cells. Must be going now. Bye!" He hurried away as fast as his legs could carry him all the way into the nearby alley. Perhaps that wasn't such a good thing because now he was lost. The alley was dark and unlit, the ceiling coming closer. Draco hoped that the alleyway didn't end up being a dead end, because then he might end up squished with his arse pointing towards the rest of the world. He didn't much fancy the idea of his finders answering the question of how they found him. ['We just saw his arse and went, "My God, its Draco Malfoy!"' Snicker, snicker.] However, the alley finally opened up and Draco blew a breath of relief when he saw he had ended up near his favourite London shopping square, just minutes walking distance away from The Leaky Cauldron, where he was to meet his Father in a few hours time. That was one of the reasons he was so happy, but the other was that he needed to shop. Badly.

*

See, Draco lived for clothes…amoung other subjects. But clothes were a topper on the Draco Malfoy List Of Important Things. 'Things' being vague on purpose. Anyway, Draco was currently wearing one of his favourite ensembles; tight black linen pants with silver trim and an emerald green cut-sleeve. They were Flippendo, a highly recommended Wizarding clothes line in Draco's opinion. However, the bottom of the linen pants was…ripped. Draco didn't know how it had happened, he only knew that when he had found it out he had gone off the deep end, which had resulted in said Scary Lady practically chasing him down the Alley of Despair. Draco decided right then and there, standing idiotically at the end of a wet and unused alley looking for all intents and purposes like a ahem [Standing on the corner, lalalalala.], that he had a great opportunity and he wouldn't pass it up. Spend Daddy's money!

And like a kid in a candy store he splurged.

*

Laden with a mountain of bags, and several shopping store clerks stumbling behind him, Draco made his way to The Leaky Cauldron as quick as his nimble feet could carry him. [Which was pretty fast, just ask those poor clerks.] He hated being late for his Father, he loathed it. Mostly because he got a verbal lashing and ceased being Daddy's Boy for a few days. Meh. At breakneck speed he ran towards the pub, and the only thing stopping him was…the body he had just collided with.

Damn.

There went his new black pants…hey! Draco looked up at the person who had been in his way, and through the fallen stack of bags he could make out vague features. The person tilted their head slightly as if coming out of a daze and Draco sucked in his breath. In front of him was the most gorgeous boy he had ever set eyes on. Now, Draco had nothing against beautiful boys, in fact he very much liked them indeed, it came with the territory of who and what he was, so it was all ok. However, this boy…this boy was everything every person saw in his or her wet dreams. How could one single person be that perfect? It just wasn't right. No, Draco shook his head mentally. He saw a chink on a smooth cheek, but that just refined the jaw line. The boy wasn't perfect; it was his flaws that made him beautiful. Draco had no doubt that the boy he had just bumped into was the singularly most gorgeous person on Earth.

The boy in front of him shook his shoulder-length ebony hair with a great shake, sending water everywhere. It seemed that the God [Which was what Draco was now calling the Boy in his mind.] had been drinking from a water bottle when Draco had…er…run into him. Oops. However, the droplets running down a slender white neck and disappearing into the collar of a shirt had Draco envisioning where that lucky, lucky drop of water was heading were quite hypnotizing. Draco really, really wished that he had baggy pants on right now though because his 'envisioning' sure was making itself evident right about now. And quite uncomfortable, too.

Draco hadn't realized that someone had been speaking until they practically shouted in his face. '-Sir? Hello?! Are you all right?" Draco waved the clerk away, irritated. They shouldn't embarrass him in front of the God! Even though he had done a good enough job of that already…Argh. He was looking this way! Draco lifted his eyes to meet with the most brilliant, the most wonderful –

"Potter?!"

Shit. Double-damn. God motherfucker. Why, oh why, did these things always happen to him? Why couldn't the Gods just leave a poor Malfoy alone?

"Malfoy?" And the God who is fucking Potter talks. Oh, look, I can see the light of prolonged understanding reach his puke-green coloured pupils. He really is stupid. Draco found out that he even sneered in his thoughts. "Were you the one who ran into me?" Here we go…

"Really, Potter. And what made you come up with that astounding resolution? Could it perhaps be that I am sitting right across from you, the only other person on the ground, in a position that suggests I fell, and that my bags are strewn about your lap haphazardly?" Draco sneered. Look at him! – he's worse than Crabbe and Goyle! Is that spittle dribbling down his chin from amazement at my vocabulary usage? Hah!

Harry rolled his eyes. "God, Malfoy. Did you fall on a stick in childhood or did your father ram it up your ass?" He stood up and straightened his clothes. "Either way, you constantly look and talk like you're constipated. Better bribe a MediWizard to check it out." At that, Harry picked up his bag, which had fallen at the feet of a puzzled clerk, and strolled off as if he had no cares, not once looking back.

Draco sat stunned. Had Potter just beaten him at his own game? It wasn't fair! For years Draco had been the Master of Insults, Potter not even up to his par. But now…now Potter had had the last word, and a good one it was at that! Damn him…Perfect Potter, the King of all he surveys. He'll pay for that. Draco angrily got to his feet, dusting his shirt and pants off with a huff. He signaled jerkily to the surrounding clerks to pick up all of his strewn bags, then marched off toward the Leaky Cauldron.

2:Malfoy Manor

Draco was in a fine mood. Today was the day of returning back to Hogwarts, which meant he could finally extract payment from Potter for the insult dealt him two weeks ago. Draco had schemed for the majority of the rest of break, studying dusty old books in the Malfoy Library and quizzing the family portraits in the Gallery about revenges they had executed. Some were far too harsh, even if it was Potter, to be carried out. Draco was amazed some had gotten away with them, however nasty the repercussions. But finally, Draco had settled on the perfect elements and plotted his plan to where he saw no flaws. Once that was done, Draco decided that he deserved some pleasure for the remainder of his time, and he had found it. Reminded of that fact, he turned away from the mirror in which he had been double-checking his Muggle attire to face his King-sized silk-covered canopy bed and the silent figure sprawled upon it.

He looked over the servant boy who had pleased him the past few nights, and was satisfied with what he saw. The boy, around fourteen, was filled out and muscular for his age, tawny-brown curls framed his peaceful sleeping face. Draco thought that he hadn't chosen badly in this fine specimen – for a two-day fucking. He cleared his throat loudly, wincing at the harsh sound, and picked up one of his trunks, throwing it onto the bed. The boy startled awake, his wide eyes finding Draco at the side of the bed.

Draco waved him off. "You may go. I no longer want your services." An indifferent expression was not feigned. The boy's eyes filled with confusion.

"But – but I thought you liked it. You were having fun last --" He was cut off quickly by a hand throttling him. Draco's sneering face filled his vision, malice-filled eyes narrowed at him.

"You thought nothing. You will not speak to anyone about what you heard or saw in this room, do I make myself clear?" Eyes clouded with fear and unshed tears pleaded up at Draco, while the boy beneath his grip whimpered.

"Please…you're hurting me." The boy gasped.

Draco sighed and loosened his grip. "Do you understand? No one can know." Least of all my Father. He'd have the boy whipped if I kept enjoying his company more than a week. Father puts up with my liking boys…as long as I don't have a prolonged interest in one. The boy nodded and Draco let go of him, satisfied. This servant boy wouldn't come back for more. He was well and truly terrified of Draco. The more fearful, the better they wouldn't bring Draco's liaisons to his Father's attentions, and the better they would save their own skin. Draco felt sorry he had to frighten the poor boys he took as lovers, but it was the only way he could think of to have them stay out of trouble. And he couldn't just not take some as lovers – he was a wealthy, handsome, horny teenage boy, damn it!

The brown-haired boy tumbled out of Draco's bed and hastily gathered his clothing, only slipping on his boxers as he practically ran out of the room.

Draco's fine mood ruined, he sulked until the Butler came and informed him that his Father was awaiting him in the limousine.

Today was the day his Revenge on Potter would begin.