Disclaimer: The characters of Harry Potter are not mine. Never have and never will. So dream in fiction.
First story posting here. Hmmm.
Well, I do hope that whoever stumbles on this story likes it.
Anyhow, some notes about this story.
It is AU-ish.
Draco is the dominant, cause good lord, he can sex me up anyway and anywhere. swoons
It will be fairly long, as I tend to write stories that troll on.
I cannot promise quick and fervent updates.
I added my own brush of a world, quite apart from J.K Rowlings.
And lastly, I love yogurt.
Valor Muniet
Author: Ray.M.
Pairing: Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy
I hope you enjoy this chapter and I apologize for the grammatical errors that you find.
Chapter One
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The cornucopia was a vivid warmth that radiated in an otherwise very sterile and immaculate room of business men and women. The food was bland, the talk monotonous and the ever-present air of narcissistic aristocracy wafted from men's expensive cologne and women's overwhelming perfume. They chose to drink from wine glasses, drinking with their cultured mouths to leech years old of wine as they proceed with their casual repertoire of false smiles and laughs to whomever they spoke with. Their knives would strike when the opportunity presented itself, but here, in this Thanksgiving get-together, the knife is casually hidden behind their backs. But heaven knows they would strike if they could so they could reach newer heights in their career.
"Darling, the boss wants a word with you," a voice spoke, feminine and sensual. He enjoyed that about her. That even though she worked in this field of business, she did not succumb to the poor embraces of back-stabbing for the sole purposes of greed. She was kind and sometimes highly oblivious to the goings-on around her. She was erotic. She was his girlfriend.
He nodded to her, thankful for the distraction from his ever intensive scrutiny of his co-workers, the demons that they were. Their fanciful suits and ties accompanied by leers and sarcastic remarks that bid remarkably close to the truth.
But who was he to judge, really. Amongst them, he was the most conniving, if not sultry, of his trade. A passion he could not digress, if not simply for the sheer greed he wallowed in. Though he would not admittedly voice those words, a lingering thought was present. His plans to become the main authority of this hierarchy was present in his punctuality and obsession for his job. And at such a young age.
"Quite the party, Mr. Malfoy," his boss grinned, a drink raised in his name. "I've yet to question the many faces of your audience. Names that course through the business yet none that are names of friendship."
A smile touched his lips. "It's a night to begin them, then, Mr. Voldemort." A few stray eyes glanced at their conversation and he ignored them.
"Perhaps you're correct," the older man drank from his glass slowly before speaking again. "Tonight is a night of friendship." His 'boss' looked around them before taking the young Malfoy to a quite corner. He did a once-over again before speaking in a low voice. "I have another assignment for you."
The younger man, much too wise for his age breathed in deeply, his turn to scan around to see if anyone was within earshot, knowing well this was not a safe place to be discussing such things.
Knowing he got his attention, Mr. Voldemort moved on. "You see, an expedition was set out nineteen years ago and it seems now that there's a minor setback that's jeopardizing the enterprise that we struggled so hard into fruition." The older man finished the liquid in his glass before placing it aside. "You are to eradicate this... complication.
"Of course, if you're not willing to, I could find someone else less capable," he whispered challengingly, watching the boy before him contemplate the offer. Before he could answer however, he spoke again. "I realize you had just completed an assignment, so let me assure you that this one will gain you the rank you've been so eager to establish."
The young Malfoy was looking forward to his time off, spending some time with his family and other such routines that needed attending too, but the offer...
"I'll send you the details," Mr. Voldemort spoke. "You'll have time to think it through." The older man grabbed another glass of wine and left the young man, knowing already that the offer was accepted.
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"Harry, you've got to get over it," the ginger head girl said in a matter-factly kind of tone. "Boys like him are not worth wallowing over." She looked over at her assignment, pausing to think before speaking again. "Besides, he was probably being flirty just to bed you, I'd reckon."
Harry groaned. "That's supportive..." Another strew of groans as his head hit the table.
Another boy, a redhead to it's essence of the word, sat down at the table beside the two, a groan emitting from him as well.
Hermione glared at him. "If I have to console you as well, Ron, I will break each of your bones," she looked at her work and began to scribble furiously. "You two are worse than girls going through their period," she whispered under her breath.
"It happened again," Ron said quietly, ignoring the comment Hermione made. The other two looked at him worriedly. "Nothing's too... badly damaged, I suppose. But my dorm mate is a little... freaked out," he chuckled.
"Did he see?" Hermione asked.
"No, he thought I had a lighter or something," he shrugged. "But that's the third time it's happened this week and it feels like it's getting worse."
"I warned you and even your mother spoke to you about rooming with Harry!" Hermione, suddenly outraged, gathered her books and stood. "But you, being the lazy sloth that you are, chose to reside where your classes are closer to where you slept."
Harry mimicked the agitated girl's motions and placed his books in his bag. The two boys followed the fuming girl, the redhead rolling his eyes and lip-synching Hermione's tirade.
"And what's more..." Hermione whirled around and caught the redhead mocking her. Breathing in deeply, she held her books on her left hand, and with one stride towards Ron, slapped him hard on the cheek with her right.
"Fuck!" Ron cursed, holding his reddened cheek. "What the bloody fuck was that for!?"
"Do you ever take any of this seriously, Ron?" her voice wasn't as loud as before, but suddenly weary and tired. "You've heard what your father said. What happens to the people who've been caught in the past."
"That's not going to happen!" the redhead retorted.
"How do you know?" she yelled. "You've just said you couldn't control it!"
"Perhaps the hallway where a passerby could easily hear is not-" Harry tried to interrupt, but was quickly interrupted himself.
"I did not say I couldn't control it!"
"What then? Were you fooling around? Burning a fly that caught your fancy?" she screamed. "Tell me what, Ron!?"
"That's none of your fucking business!" he howled in return, just as Hermione screamed in fright, a book in her hands suddenly catching fire. She took her book bag and quickly extinguished the flame.
She fell to her knees, her head bowed and her breathing haggard as the flame was quickly put out.
"I'm... H-Hermione..." Ron whispered. He dropped to his knees as well in front of her. He reached out his hands but stopped, afraid to touch her suddenly. "I'm sorry."
Harry's heart beat stopped the moment Hermione screamed. Never before in their arguments has anything happened quite like that. It was clear that Ron was a bit unstable, especially with his quick temper. He was worried now because this proved that no matter how much they ignored whatever was building, it could not be diffused from simple ignorance.
Ron's parents have warned them, but have not emphasized enough the true meaning of what was going to happen. Watching the two embrace with a quietly sobbing Hermione, Harry knew some things needed to be changed and quickly.
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"She's right, you know," Harry whispered to his friend as they walked.
The other boy sighed. The redhead stepped out of line and pure regret was instilled in his unnerved heart. He did not expect to lash out like that. Something cracked and a whip of a flame spurted out, but he didn't understand how. Although, he knew why...
"What of your dorm mate?" he asked, deciding to change the subject, somewhat. "Is he still back with his folks?"
"Yeah, he called the school and moved back home. His grandmother really isn't doing too well." Harry ran a hand through his perpetual mop of hair, sincerely worried about his dorm mate. Last time he spoke with him, he was crestfallen and sounded as if he was at the verge of tears.
"Well, we better hope I can get in. Mum said she contacted the Administrator."
The Registrar office was alive, as usual with students. Both boys had to get a number and wait for their turn to arrive. They had dropped off Hermione a while ago, her wits suddenly in no mood for anything but rest, perhaps a simple nap will do her good.
Harry watched with mild interest at the students walking pass them, some hurriedly and others without a care in the world as they laughed with friends. He wondered idly if any of them were just as different. If they possessed something as well.
He looked over at his distraught friend, who bit his lip nervously. He does it often when he's anxious or bothered. To his eyes, Ron's a normal boy. He wore loose clothes with t-shirts that often have humorous sentences or band shirts, many of which Harry have never heard. Yet, how normal is having an ability to incinerate objects? With a temper to boot.
He was not so different himself...
"Our turn, mate," Ron said, getting up. Harry followed quietly.
The next fifteen minutes were discussed about housing arrangements. It went fairly smoothly and Ron was allowed to move his things within the next three days. Harry, when asked, shook his head about having any problems about Ron being his new dorm mate.
Ron was asked to sign a few papers before they left at the secretary's desk. Said secretary was having an argument with a couple of boys. Well... one of the boys, while another twirled a pen between his fingers.
"I had them faxed an hour ago, we will not stand here and wait-"
"Mister Malfoy," the secretary, now standing up, spoke sternly. "I have no other choice but to have you wait, I apologize for the inconvenience but there is nothing for me to do unless those papers are sent-"
"Oh please, is there someone else I can speak with?" the blonde boy demanded.
The secretary closed her eyes and breathed in. "Just one moment," she said. She tilted her head and looked at Ron and Harry. "Is there something I could help you boys with?"
"I... uhh, a few papers I'm told to sign?" Ron said, feeling as if he shouldn't have heard what he did. Harry also looked elsewhere when three pairs of eyes were looking at him.
The secretary looked at her desk and pulled out some papers and placed them on the desk. "Mister Weasley?" Ron nodded while one of the other boys snorted. Ron glared at the both of them. "Just sign where it ask's for your signature." Then looking back at the other two other boys, she said. "Mister Zabini, my pen please." The boy placed the silver pen right beside the papers. The woman huffed. "I'll be right back."
Harry and Ron strolled up to the desk, prepared to sign and bolt out. An awkward silence ensued.
"Ah!" Ron cried out as he grabbed the utensil.
"What?" Harry asked, concerned.
"The pen... just... a static shock, is all," Ron grimaced, massaging his fingers.
Near them, the blond boy gave the other a heated glare. A triumphant smirk was his only reply. Harry watched the exchange and as the blond Malfoy boy turned to face them, Harry averted his eyes when striking silver landed on him.
Ron finished just as the secretary returned. Apparently he has a complex about signing things without first reading the paragraphs above it. They left and thanked Merlin that was over. Harry found it a bit strange.
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Ron had all this belongings properly transferred to Harry's dorm. In between classes, before and after, is when they had the time to move it. A rough three days where sore muscles and bleary eyes were evident in their sluggish movements. Ron had not imagined so many of his belongings to be quite so heavy, nor the distance between their dorms be so far. Many times he almost lost his temper, if not for Harry constantly begrudging him about his rising temper and Hermione's wary glances, the whole of the campus may already be in flames.
It's another three days later, a brilliant saturday afternoon, birds chirping and merry grass swaying in the breeze and all, that Harry found himself locked in the library.
"Honestly, what's my emotions got to bleeding do with the stars," he mumbled to himself, slamming a book closed and writing absolute rubbish on his paper. He then decided to scratch it out furiously and glare menacingly at said paper.
"I'd hate to be that piece of work right about now," a voice said nearby and Harry whirled his head to find the blond boy from the office before standing with a book in one hand. "Although, that pen you're holding is taking quite the treatment as well."
Harry turned back to his paper and cleared his throat. Gently, he placed his pen down as he ran both his hands through his hair. "I'd imagine you'd be quite the same when you're given such a useless assignment."
The boy chuckled and moved to stand behind the chair opposite Harry. "Mind if I sit here? Them other tables are occupied and I couldn't bare to sit with some bubbling baboons this school has for girls."
Harry smiled. "Go right on ahead, but you'll have to excuse me if I suddenly decide to burst in hysterics," he smiled. "I'm going mad."
"That's quite alright," the blond replied, pulling up the chair, but before sitting, he outstretched his left hand. "The name's Malfoy, by the way. Draco Malfoy."
Harry smiled and shook the hand, a shiver running down his spine. He cleared his throat. "I'm Harry Potter." Harry noticed a fleeting look pass by the silver eyes, something he could not distinguish, but it was gone before he was even made aware that Draco had already started to sit down.
"I apologize you had to witness the theatrics from days prior," he said. "Being transferred to a new school and all, I can't stand waiting and it was a long journey here."
"Oh, theatrics liven up the place, by all means," Harry grinned. "Whereabouts are you coming from anyhow?"
"You know," Draco opened his book and smiled wickedly at the boy across from him. "Here and there."
"Right," Harry replied, bowing his head before the warm feeling was made apparent on his cheeks.
It was two hours ago that the blond boy had left, having read halfway through his book and deciding he needed dinner. He asked if Harry wanted to accompany him and he politely declined. His work needed his full attention. And really, why read indoors when it was ridiculously beautiful outside, Harry didn't know. He wasn't much for conversation either, being engrossed as he was.
Satisfied with the two pages of written garbage he had mustered up, he checked the time. He was going to have to buy food out seeing as how the cafeteria's had closed nearly an hour ago. Blast his luck. Lately, things have not been working to his favor. He cleared any pessimism circulating his head and walked out of the library.
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Blaise Zabini's head schemed plans, crossed out some and added a few more. A brainstorm - a web of ideas stemming from one to the other, erasing any possible flaws. He was cunning, to say the least, and it rivaled his trains of thought, almost. As Draco looked at his companion, a sinister smile twitching on his thin lips, he knew that Blaise Zabini had worked up an objective, a proposition of sorts.
Usually, his formulated plans would seem harmless and tactless, but they grew. Revelation of the whole scheme of things wouldn't be revealed up until it smacked you in the face. Draco learned to be one step ahead. He saw where Blaise's trains stopped and dropped off. He would scour every inch of the idea and proceed with his own doings, for after all, it was he that was doing any acting.
"Just friends, mate," the boy across the suede divan smiled rogouishly, a cup of tea in his hand and a forgotten book on his lap. "See what stems of it. Clearly, he does not know."
Draco could hear the mechanics of Blaise's mind turning. "And what of you? You were asked here as an aide not--"
"Draco, Draco," Blaise interrupted, setting his tea down. "Voldemort may hold you in high esteem, but he did not bring me along with you to reminisce of my turbulent school years." He eyed the blond boy casually seated across from him. "I have my own list of tasks. I am assisting you in any way I can but I am by no means your attendant."
"No, you're not," Draco replied, standing up and removing non-existent lint off of his Yves Saint Laurent jacket. He looked out the window, noticing the slightly changing colors of the leaves and calm breeze billowing with the retreating sun. "You're a liability." He walked away then, not waiting for a response and headed to his room. He had homework to do after all.
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to be continued...