First off I would just like to say that I do not own Harry Potter or any of the people involved in the Harry Potter world. I would also like to point out that this is slash (male/male), and if you don't like how I write or what I write about, then don't read my fiction! I would also like to warn you all that I do not have a beta, and I don't plan on getting one. This is my first posting, though I have been a reader for some time, so if you have any questions feel free to ask. Now on with the story.
Chapter One: Hate
Christopher Harold Potter leaned over and kissed his mother on the cheek, "As soon as I get home for the holidays, I'll come visit mother."
Victoria Lynn Jefferson Potter smiled at her only son, and oldest child fondly, "And you promise to write me every week?"
"Every day," he swore, almost crying.
"Isn't that a bit much? You don't even visit me everyday," she teased softly.
Chris glared not quiet over his shoulder, at his father, "I would if I were allowed to."
Sensing a fight brewing, Victoria changed subjects, "What subject do you think you'll like the best?"
"Potions," Chris said without missing a beat.
Harry stood in the doorway listening to his son egg him on. His wife was dieing and only had a year left at best. And even he, the 'Great Harry Potter', one of the Wizarding world's most skillful Healers could not stop the disease she'd contracted.
"I don't want to go to Hogwarts," Sara Clare Potter sniffled.
Her twin sister Jenna Ann, nodded, "To far away from you."
"You don't have to go Hogwarts for at least two years and by then you'll want to get away from me and your father," she said smiling. She always talked like she was going to be around forever and sometimes it got Harry angry too.
"Besides daddy says we're all going to be in Gryffindor," Jenna said.
"I want to be in Ravenclaw," Sara said hugging a book to her chest.
Victoria smiled and looked over at her husband, "Then you'll most defiantly be a Slytherin, won't you Chris?"
"It's only the best house in the school mother," the young boy said smirking.
It was not secret in the Potter house that Chris, though he looked like Harry with his large, emerald eyes, and olive skin, he did not act like his father. In fact the young boy mostly went against his father's wishes and did everything he was told not to do. Not only that, but because Harry was famous and his wife was slowly dieing, the boy had had to grow up very quickly, and acted way past his age, not to mention the fact that Harry hadn't known what to do with his first child so he just kept giving him gifts to make up for working all the time. In short, Harry's created a snotty, arrogant brat.
Harry's eyes flashed, in anger, "Come Chris. We'll be late and you'll miss the train."
"Like that's never happened to you!" Chris shot back before kissing his mother a final time. He turned and left the room, black cloak billowing out behind him.
"Girls, come on now. We can come back after we drop Chris off," Harry said placing a hand on each of their backs.
"But we don't want to go!" they said at the same time.
"They can stay here, Harry," his wife offered.
"Yeah! Can we daddy, can we?" the twins asked pulling on his robe.
The green eyed man sighed, "Alright, alright. Just don't cause any trouble or you'll have to stay at Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione's house the next time I visit."
"We won't!" The two girls ran the few steps back to their mom's hospital bed, crawling into the chairs at the side of the bed.
"I'll be back in 20 minutes," he whispered, tears in his eyes as he blew a kiss to his wife before he left the room. His son was waiting for him just outside the door.
"Are you coming?" He asked his father impatiently.
Harry frowned, remembering that tone from some where, "Of course I am."
"Good, because I'd like to be at least a little early so I can get a compartment for myself and the good Sandy Weasely of course," he said turning and storming off down the hall.
"Don't take that tone with me Christopher Harold or-"
"You can't ground me now, father," Chris snapped over his shoulder, "First years aren't allowed to do anything anyway. No, I take that back. First years that didn't save the world when they were a baby aren't allowed to do anything."
Harry's eyes flashed in anger again but he didn't answer, knowing he wouldn't win this fight. He had been allowed to do more than anyone else his age, during every year he was in school, "You're right about that Chris. That being the case, I'll just have to settle for not getting you that racing broom for Christmas."
Christ turned his head sharply to look at his father. His look all but screamed, 'You bloody rat-bastard!', but he held his tongue and quickened his pace down to their waiting car.
"Weber?! Get your pale arse down here now!" Pansy Malfoy yelled up the stairs.
Draco came into the entrance hall frowning, "Maybe if you wouldn't yell at the boy all the time he would be more compliant! If that marriage hadn't been arranged before I was born I would have never married you and your hellish voice."
"Well I would have most certainly not married you, Mr. Draco Malfoy! I'd have gotten more lucky with Blaise!" she screeched.
Just then a blond boy gracefully came walking down the steps, followed by his school trunk and another much younger blond haired boy, "Another adult discussion I see. My name again is it? I have always liked the name Daniel…if my opinion matters?"
"Ungrateful brat! Edward! Stop following your brother and go back to your room! Where is that…creature that is suppose to watch you?!"
The small boy looked up, "I don't know."
"I believe he's in the kitchen getting ready for the friends you're having over mother," Weber said coolly for his little brother, "I said he could watch me pack for school."
Her face twisted in rage, "Go back to you room and stay there! You're a disgusting filthy little, wretched boy that should not be seen! "
Weber looked at his brother, "You better do as she says or you'll get another beating Ed."
Quickly the little boy, who couldn't have been more then four years old at the most, turned and ran back up the stairs to his room.
"Why you-" Pansy growled walking toward her oldest son.
Draco slammed his dragon-head cane down into the floor, magical energy cracked in the room, "I do not have time for this! Weber, come."
Pansy cowered back. She was a cold, angry, some-what powerful witch and she prided herself on it, but she was scared of her husband's fury, even though he'd never laid hand nor hex on her in anger.
"And if I return home and find one more mark on that boy's body I'm going to lock you in the dungeons and leave you there until your next holiday appearance Pansy dear!"
"I will do as I please. He is my son as well as yours!"
Draco, who had been walking, stopped and turned, his cold eyes freezing his wife on the spot, "I can have that changed. Need I remind you that I no longer need you now that I have children?"
When she bowed her head in submission he turned and guided his son out the door.
Once both of the blonds were in the carriage and on their way to the train station, Draco looked up at his oldest son, "You will write?"
"Of course father."
Draco let out a deep breath, "If I was not a Malfoy, and my father wasn't…himself…this would be a lot more touching."
"But since we are Malfoy's it's business as usual," Weber said looking at his father closely. He'd known for a very long time that his dad was not who he played himself out to be. He wasn't cold, or a bastard. Quit the opposite.
"I will not be…displeased if you are not in Slytherin house. If at all possible, I would like to see you in Ravenclaw or even, Gryffindor," the man said, eying his son with his cold blue eyes. "Though I fear it is too late for that. You already are who you are."
That was something Weber had never expected, "Father? What are you saying?"
"I want you to be yourself, and if at all possible, not a mini-likeness of me. I was not the most, sociable person during my time at Hogwarts, and I regret it," Draco said coldly, keeping all signs of emotion out of his drawling voice.
"A mini-likeness?" his son asked frowning. Sure they were almost identical in appearance, save that Weber had a smaller, more rounded nose, and his hair was untamable, even with gel, so he had to keep it short so it would spike out, in clumps, from his head in a fashionable way.
Draco let the mask fall from his face, "There are things about me from my past that you have never even dreamed of. Things that your mother knows little or nothing about, things I gave up, because I was made to."
"Because of the war…" Weber said cautiously.
"That was one of the reasons, yes, but there were other things, like having to marry your mother," Draco said sneering.
"What did you have to give up?" Usually he would never be so bold to ask his father anything, because usually he would get in trouble. Something was different this time.
Draco got a faraway look in his eyes for a moment, before he looked back at his son, "I had to give up love and that is all I will tell you."
A/N: And so ends chapter one. I hope you enjoyed it and will review to tell me what I'm doing right, if anything, and to tell me what I'm doing wrong, which should be alot. Thanks!