A/N: This fic was inspired by my Theatre Studies group project. I actually wrote it ages ago, but forgot about it :). Will feature slash, not much really yet but there will be some (of course...you think I'd write more than one fic without slash??)
Disclaimer: I own nowt.
Draco slumped against the door, breathing heavily. Far below he could still hear his father rampaging around like an incensed bull.
"Draco! Get your stinking arse down here now!" his father yelled. Then his tone softened. "Draco, I'm sorry. Come down and get ready for your party." Draco shivered, but didn't answer his father. Today was his eighteenth birthday, and it was also the day when Lucius would hand him over to Voldemort to be initiated into the Death Eaters. And for some reason he really didn't want to, which was why he was hiding.
His father started shouting again, and smashing things, threatening to use the Unforgivable Curses on Draco. Wouldn't be the first time, Draco thought bitterly. He suddenly felt helpless, not knowing what to do.
His eyes fell on a dice, almost hidden by his Quidditch robes. Draco grabbed it. He knew what to do now. He would roll the dice and do whatever the dice came up with. Odds, he would go down, face his father and "be a Malfoy", in his father's words. Evens, he'd run away, side with those his father had told him to shun. Escape. Draco took a deep breath and threw. The dice came up as four.
The next few minutes went in a rush for Draco. He used magic to pack all his things in his trunk, grabbed his new Pegasus broomstick that he'd got from his mother that morning, and opened the window. Here he hesitated. Where would he go? He couldn't go to any of his so-called Slytherin "friends", as they would ship him to his father without any kind of hesitation, then he would have to endure a life of being just like his father.
Then a face crept unbidden into his mind. One that he'd made fun of and secretly lusted after for seven years. Harry Potter. Potter was protected, wasn't he? Therefore Potter would be the logical person to go to. All things considered, he would probably just tell Draco to sod off and shut the door in his face, but Draco thought that it was at least worth a try.
*
Draco stood in Privet Drive, feeling absolutely foolish. He knew that Harry lived in Privet Drive, he'd heard him talking to Granger and Weasley about it. But he didn't know the number. So he decided to lean against the street sign, light up a cigarette - my only regrettable vice, he thought grimly - and wait to see if he emerged.
Soon the door of Number Four opened. A huge man and an even huger boy stepped out, followed by a horsy-faced woman.
"And I want the garden weeded by the time we get back!" bellowed the man, before bundling his family into his car and driving away. Soon after, the door opened again and Harry stepped out, armed with a trowel and gardening gloves. He got to work in the garden. Draco smirked as he watched Harry weeding the garden. How everyone would laugh if they could see the great, famous Harry Potter now. He finished his fag and stepped forward.
"Well, well, the Famous Harry Potter, doing something so base as weeding a garden," he drawled, thinking it was better not to appear too different. Harry jumped at the sound of the familiar drawl, looked up and scowled.
"At least I know what hard work really feels like, not like a certain effeminate, mincing fop not standing a million miles away from me now." Draco glared at him.
"I do *not* mince!"
"You do! Anyway, either tell me what it is you want or fuck off out of my garden."
"Ooh, language, Potter!" mocked Draco, counting his cigarettes.
"Whatever. Now fuck off." Harry turned back and headed towards the house. Draco felt the onset of panic.
"No! Wait!" Harry paused but didn't turn around. "I need your help." Harry turned back, a sneer on his face.
"*You* need *my* help?" he laughed. Draco shrugged. "Look, Malfoy, we've hated each other for God knows how long, why should I suddenly start helping you?" For once, Draco found that he couldn't answer and just stared at the floor.
"I just thought..."
"Thought what? That I'd do it out of the goodness of my heart?"
"Something like that," admitted Draco. Harry laughed again. "Look, I know we haven't ever exactly seen eye-to-eye, but - " he hesitated. He didn't really want to tell Potter all that had happened, but then again it might help.
"Listen, I'm not exactly good at expressing my feelings, or telling anyone my problems." Draco looked so lost and helpless for a moment that Harry felt sorry for him. He sat on the grass next to Draco.
"OK, I'm listening. What happened?" Draco was silent for a moment longer. "I won't judge you, I'll promise you that." Draco took a deep breath, then told Harry all about his problems: his doubts about becoming a Death Eater, his conviction that what his father was moulding him into was wrong, the fact that his father would beat him if he didn't conform, and he outlined details of the day to Harry. When he was finished, he looked up at Harry, half expecting Harry to laugh in his face and tell him to fuck off again. To his surprise and gratification, Harry was looking concerned.
"Draco, I'm sorry," he said, voice full of concern.
Draco, suddenly overcome by the events of the day, felt his lip trembling and the tears welling up in his eyes. He tried to blink them away but they spilled over and ran down his cheeks. Then Harry surprised him again. He put his arm around the shaking boy, drawing him into a hug. At last the tears subsided, and Draco straightened up, suddenly embarrassed.
"Sorry," he mumbled.
"Don't worry about it," replied Harry, grinning, the front of his T-shirt soaking wet. "Tell you what, I'll try and persuade my aunt and uncle to let you stay for the holiday. Have you got any nice Muggle clothes? They're deeply impressed by anyone with money." Draco nodded; his father had bought him an array of Armani, Versace and Gucci. "Well go and get changed then, my room's the smallest one on the top floor. I'll finish the garden and introduce you." Draco nodded again and slunk off to get changed.
*
A few hours later, the Dursleys had returned. Draco was feeling really nervous, convinced that they would kick him out instead of letting him stay.
Vernon was the first person in the house, and his eyes narrowed as he saw a well-dressed young man sat on the sofa, talking to Harry.
"Boy! Who is that, and what is he doing here in our house!" Vernon thundered.
"Uncle Vernon, this is my friend from school, Draco Malfoy." Draco stood up and shook Vernon's hand.
"Pleased to meet you, Mr Dursley," he said, in his best talking-to-impress voice. Vernon said nothing, merely stood, taking in Draco's beautifully-crafted Armani suit and expensive Gucci shoes. decided that it would be worth talking to this young man, even if he was one of Them, as his family obviously had money. Petunia and Dudley came in then. Dudley whimpered as he caught sight of Draco; he still hadn't gotten over being turned into a pig by Hagrid, or the Ton-Tongue Toffee incident a couple of years back.
"Pleased to meet you," said Vernon gruffly. "I'm Vernon Dursley. This is my wife Petunia -" Draco took hold of Petunia's hand and kissed it.
"Such a pleasure to meet you," simpered Draco. Petunia giggled.
Harry was grinning as he watched the scene. It was obvious that the Dursleys were impressed, and Draco was playing the role of a charming, wealthy young aristocrat perfectly. That was one bonus about being a Malfoy, thought Harry, at least you can charm the pants off your potential allies.
"Draco was wondering if he could stay until school starts," asked Harry.
"I just needed a holiday and thought about seeing Harry. I can pay, of course, I have money, but I if it's too much trouble I'll just go."
"Well...." began Vernon, but Petunia cut him off.
"Of course you can stay, Mr Malfoy, it won't be too much trouble. I'll put up a bed in Harry's room." Draco sighed with relief.
"Thank you. Tell you what, I'll take us all out to dinner tonight, my treat."
*
A week on, and Harry was actually finding Draco pleasant company, and Draco was fast becoming infatuated with Harry. They found out they had lots in common, like Quidditch and playing practical jokes.
Harry still had one worry though: How were his friends, more specifically Ron, going to react to his new friendship with Draco Malfoy? Last time they had talked, they had been outlining ways of getting him expelled. He outlined his problem to Draco.
"Tough choice," remarked Draco. They sat on Harry's bed for a moment, thinking. Then Draco drew the dice out of his pocket.
"When I was trying to decide what to do that day I ran away, I used this to make a decision. You try." Harry stared at the dice doubtfully.
"You mean, I ask a dice to solve my problems?" He laughed. "And how does it tell you, does it grow a mouth or something?"
"Hey, it was only a suggestion. It worked for me."
"How exactly did that work then?"
"I decided I'd roll the dice. Odds I'd stay and face my destiny as a true Malfoy, evens I'd run away. It came up a four, and here I am." Harry took the dice from Draco and rolled it around in his hand for a while.
"It might be worth a try," he conceded. "What do I have to do?"
"Ask it the question, in this case do you tell the others. Odds you do, evens you don't."
"OK. Do I tell Ron and Herm or not?" He hesitated for a moment, then rolled the dice. It came up as a one. "OK, so I tell them." He hesitated again. "I don't know..."
"You have to do what the dice says. That's the thrill of it," assured Draco. Harry stared at the dice a bit longer, then went to his desk and started writing letters to Ron and Hermione outlining the situation, then tied them to Hedwig and watched her soar out.
"I hope I've done the right thing," he murmured.
Disclaimer: I own nowt.
Draco slumped against the door, breathing heavily. Far below he could still hear his father rampaging around like an incensed bull.
"Draco! Get your stinking arse down here now!" his father yelled. Then his tone softened. "Draco, I'm sorry. Come down and get ready for your party." Draco shivered, but didn't answer his father. Today was his eighteenth birthday, and it was also the day when Lucius would hand him over to Voldemort to be initiated into the Death Eaters. And for some reason he really didn't want to, which was why he was hiding.
His father started shouting again, and smashing things, threatening to use the Unforgivable Curses on Draco. Wouldn't be the first time, Draco thought bitterly. He suddenly felt helpless, not knowing what to do.
His eyes fell on a dice, almost hidden by his Quidditch robes. Draco grabbed it. He knew what to do now. He would roll the dice and do whatever the dice came up with. Odds, he would go down, face his father and "be a Malfoy", in his father's words. Evens, he'd run away, side with those his father had told him to shun. Escape. Draco took a deep breath and threw. The dice came up as four.
The next few minutes went in a rush for Draco. He used magic to pack all his things in his trunk, grabbed his new Pegasus broomstick that he'd got from his mother that morning, and opened the window. Here he hesitated. Where would he go? He couldn't go to any of his so-called Slytherin "friends", as they would ship him to his father without any kind of hesitation, then he would have to endure a life of being just like his father.
Then a face crept unbidden into his mind. One that he'd made fun of and secretly lusted after for seven years. Harry Potter. Potter was protected, wasn't he? Therefore Potter would be the logical person to go to. All things considered, he would probably just tell Draco to sod off and shut the door in his face, but Draco thought that it was at least worth a try.
*
Draco stood in Privet Drive, feeling absolutely foolish. He knew that Harry lived in Privet Drive, he'd heard him talking to Granger and Weasley about it. But he didn't know the number. So he decided to lean against the street sign, light up a cigarette - my only regrettable vice, he thought grimly - and wait to see if he emerged.
Soon the door of Number Four opened. A huge man and an even huger boy stepped out, followed by a horsy-faced woman.
"And I want the garden weeded by the time we get back!" bellowed the man, before bundling his family into his car and driving away. Soon after, the door opened again and Harry stepped out, armed with a trowel and gardening gloves. He got to work in the garden. Draco smirked as he watched Harry weeding the garden. How everyone would laugh if they could see the great, famous Harry Potter now. He finished his fag and stepped forward.
"Well, well, the Famous Harry Potter, doing something so base as weeding a garden," he drawled, thinking it was better not to appear too different. Harry jumped at the sound of the familiar drawl, looked up and scowled.
"At least I know what hard work really feels like, not like a certain effeminate, mincing fop not standing a million miles away from me now." Draco glared at him.
"I do *not* mince!"
"You do! Anyway, either tell me what it is you want or fuck off out of my garden."
"Ooh, language, Potter!" mocked Draco, counting his cigarettes.
"Whatever. Now fuck off." Harry turned back and headed towards the house. Draco felt the onset of panic.
"No! Wait!" Harry paused but didn't turn around. "I need your help." Harry turned back, a sneer on his face.
"*You* need *my* help?" he laughed. Draco shrugged. "Look, Malfoy, we've hated each other for God knows how long, why should I suddenly start helping you?" For once, Draco found that he couldn't answer and just stared at the floor.
"I just thought..."
"Thought what? That I'd do it out of the goodness of my heart?"
"Something like that," admitted Draco. Harry laughed again. "Look, I know we haven't ever exactly seen eye-to-eye, but - " he hesitated. He didn't really want to tell Potter all that had happened, but then again it might help.
"Listen, I'm not exactly good at expressing my feelings, or telling anyone my problems." Draco looked so lost and helpless for a moment that Harry felt sorry for him. He sat on the grass next to Draco.
"OK, I'm listening. What happened?" Draco was silent for a moment longer. "I won't judge you, I'll promise you that." Draco took a deep breath, then told Harry all about his problems: his doubts about becoming a Death Eater, his conviction that what his father was moulding him into was wrong, the fact that his father would beat him if he didn't conform, and he outlined details of the day to Harry. When he was finished, he looked up at Harry, half expecting Harry to laugh in his face and tell him to fuck off again. To his surprise and gratification, Harry was looking concerned.
"Draco, I'm sorry," he said, voice full of concern.
Draco, suddenly overcome by the events of the day, felt his lip trembling and the tears welling up in his eyes. He tried to blink them away but they spilled over and ran down his cheeks. Then Harry surprised him again. He put his arm around the shaking boy, drawing him into a hug. At last the tears subsided, and Draco straightened up, suddenly embarrassed.
"Sorry," he mumbled.
"Don't worry about it," replied Harry, grinning, the front of his T-shirt soaking wet. "Tell you what, I'll try and persuade my aunt and uncle to let you stay for the holiday. Have you got any nice Muggle clothes? They're deeply impressed by anyone with money." Draco nodded; his father had bought him an array of Armani, Versace and Gucci. "Well go and get changed then, my room's the smallest one on the top floor. I'll finish the garden and introduce you." Draco nodded again and slunk off to get changed.
*
A few hours later, the Dursleys had returned. Draco was feeling really nervous, convinced that they would kick him out instead of letting him stay.
Vernon was the first person in the house, and his eyes narrowed as he saw a well-dressed young man sat on the sofa, talking to Harry.
"Boy! Who is that, and what is he doing here in our house!" Vernon thundered.
"Uncle Vernon, this is my friend from school, Draco Malfoy." Draco stood up and shook Vernon's hand.
"Pleased to meet you, Mr Dursley," he said, in his best talking-to-impress voice. Vernon said nothing, merely stood, taking in Draco's beautifully-crafted Armani suit and expensive Gucci shoes. decided that it would be worth talking to this young man, even if he was one of Them, as his family obviously had money. Petunia and Dudley came in then. Dudley whimpered as he caught sight of Draco; he still hadn't gotten over being turned into a pig by Hagrid, or the Ton-Tongue Toffee incident a couple of years back.
"Pleased to meet you," said Vernon gruffly. "I'm Vernon Dursley. This is my wife Petunia -" Draco took hold of Petunia's hand and kissed it.
"Such a pleasure to meet you," simpered Draco. Petunia giggled.
Harry was grinning as he watched the scene. It was obvious that the Dursleys were impressed, and Draco was playing the role of a charming, wealthy young aristocrat perfectly. That was one bonus about being a Malfoy, thought Harry, at least you can charm the pants off your potential allies.
"Draco was wondering if he could stay until school starts," asked Harry.
"I just needed a holiday and thought about seeing Harry. I can pay, of course, I have money, but I if it's too much trouble I'll just go."
"Well...." began Vernon, but Petunia cut him off.
"Of course you can stay, Mr Malfoy, it won't be too much trouble. I'll put up a bed in Harry's room." Draco sighed with relief.
"Thank you. Tell you what, I'll take us all out to dinner tonight, my treat."
*
A week on, and Harry was actually finding Draco pleasant company, and Draco was fast becoming infatuated with Harry. They found out they had lots in common, like Quidditch and playing practical jokes.
Harry still had one worry though: How were his friends, more specifically Ron, going to react to his new friendship with Draco Malfoy? Last time they had talked, they had been outlining ways of getting him expelled. He outlined his problem to Draco.
"Tough choice," remarked Draco. They sat on Harry's bed for a moment, thinking. Then Draco drew the dice out of his pocket.
"When I was trying to decide what to do that day I ran away, I used this to make a decision. You try." Harry stared at the dice doubtfully.
"You mean, I ask a dice to solve my problems?" He laughed. "And how does it tell you, does it grow a mouth or something?"
"Hey, it was only a suggestion. It worked for me."
"How exactly did that work then?"
"I decided I'd roll the dice. Odds I'd stay and face my destiny as a true Malfoy, evens I'd run away. It came up a four, and here I am." Harry took the dice from Draco and rolled it around in his hand for a while.
"It might be worth a try," he conceded. "What do I have to do?"
"Ask it the question, in this case do you tell the others. Odds you do, evens you don't."
"OK. Do I tell Ron and Herm or not?" He hesitated for a moment, then rolled the dice. It came up as a one. "OK, so I tell them." He hesitated again. "I don't know..."
"You have to do what the dice says. That's the thrill of it," assured Draco. Harry stared at the dice a bit longer, then went to his desk and started writing letters to Ron and Hermione outlining the situation, then tied them to Hedwig and watched her soar out.
"I hope I've done the right thing," he murmured.