Disclaimer- I do not own any of the characters in this fic. This is a piece of fan fiction and no characters in this story and document belong to me. They are owned by JK Rowling.
Chapter:
The day was warm and held a light breeze that brought relief upon the sweaty forehead of one boy by the name of Harry Potter. He knelt upon the dirty cobble stones of his aunt's kitchen, scrubbing furiously at a stain of indigo that an old clay jar of dye had made upon the floor when his cousin Dudley had harassed the cook for sweets, knocking pots and jars of ingredients and materials in his successful tantrum.
The soapy water slowly grew purple, as well as the grease stained cloth Harry used to scrub the floor with, and the boy smiled in triumph at the sign. This chore would be swift and quick, meaning that he could finish the rest of his chores faster. Which in turn would mean more free time to tend his secret garden and read a story or two from his favorite book.
Another cool breeze came in through the kitchen window and Harry lifted his head a bit higher to access the welcoming wind. It was all Dudley's fault he was behind schedule. The miniature whale couldn't find a fork if it were placed in front of him. Harry began to snigger at a past memory of stuffing salt and pepper into Dudley's dessert of ice cream last month. The idiot didn't realize his ice cream wasn't a natural flavor until he had eaten the whole thing. The scrunched up look on Dudley's face was priceless though. But, as expected, Harry was blamed for the "abominable stunt" by Uncle Dursley and shoved into a closet for three days with only a flask of water and a piece of bread.
Sighing, Harry gathered up the rest of the purple puddle into the now purple cloth and squeezed it into the rusty metal pail beside him. Stretching his back straight from his position on his knees, he put his hands on his hip and looked down on the stone floor. Spotless.
Perfect.
Grinning, Harry flicked back strands of black hair that got into his eyes, threw the rag into the pail, picked up the bucket, and raced out of the kitchen out into the dirt front yard where he could dump the mess into Petinua's ugly rose bushes (you had to see them, some leaves were yellowing with disease and most of the "blooming" pink flowers were already growing brittle and brown). Stepping out into the sunlight, however, the bright glare of the sun stabbed at his eyes and left him blind for a moment. A root caught the tip of his worn leather shoes and the next second he lay sprawled out onto the ground, the pail's contents drenching his already dirty top and spreading darkly upon the dusty ground.
Groaning, Harry slowly sat up. He didn't mind a few scrapes and bruises. They were nothing. It was the sound of a girl and boy's spiteful laughter that stirred his emotions and made him look up sharply at the assailants.
Sean Finnigan and Pansy Parkinson.
Great. Just great. Friends of Dudley, thus enemies of himself.
Glaring up at the "evil" neighbors he picked up the fallen bucket and continued his glare at the two.
"HA! You're always so clumsy," screeched the girl in a frilly pink dress. "Dudley is right. You are a clumsy waste of space. Who knew that a servant could be so useless. My maid Luna on the other hand is of much more refined breeding…" the girl went on to prattle more nonsense, which Harry chose to fly over his head, thankfully, and silently watched the boy beside her hold a grin. It was better if Harry kept silent and didn't provoke Dudley's friends, because talking back would always bring repercussions on Harry. Petuina was always one to gossip with her neighbors, so anything that the neighbor's children said to their parents about him would always reach Petuina's ears, and the children knew that too.
It was good, though, that he had made one friend and ally out of a nice family that lived a few houses down from their own. Ron and his brothers would try to protect Harry from the other kids, and if they wanted to do that, who was Harry to stop them? He was thankful to have known such great people. The ones in front of him, however…
"…you, on the other hand…well, I will be sure to tell my mother of your…" Harry's eyes widened at this. He didn't do anything to them! Why did people have to be so spiteful? Why wasn't the silent mode working?
He continued to look upon the mean spirited girl. She stopped speaking and smirked smugly with herself and her superiority over the little waif of a boy. Harry waited for her to continue.
Her pudgy lips opened. "Unless…" Unless what? Harry waited. "Well, I won't tell mother…but only if you fix my flute for me." Harry's mouth dropped opened as Pansy suddenly stuck two broken pieces of a wooden flute into his face. So it has come to this? Bribery? Glaring at Pansy, Harry angrily grabbed the two pieces and stuck them into an empty pocket in his trousers. The bitch. The nerve!
"Good boy. I knew you would follow through. You better fix it up nice or else I'll tell how your shirt got all purple." She smirked. "And have it done in two days. I'll need the flute for my next lessons with Ms. Norris." Still smiling, she grabbed Sean, who had only stood there and stared at Harry, and marched off down the road to her own house for afternoon tea.
Grumbling, Harry kicked the dirt in anger and too, stomped off, to finish the rest of his chores, clenching the pocket with the flute as if to break it in thirds.
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The Kingdom Janurais reveled in sixty years of peace. They managed to keep away from feuds with other countries and gather alliances from various kings in the case of any threats from land hungry thieves. This blessed period of calm and ease in turn bestowed upon Janurais' economy a boom within its market and overall wealth. Folk from other kingdoms poured into it's growing capital with dreams of success and prosperity. It's Lords, happily settled into their manors and own wealth with the long period of peace and growth, were lax on taxes and allowed their people free reign over much of the land. So much were the citizens of Janurais satisfied with the standard of living that love for it's rulers, Queen Narcissica and King Lucius, rivaled the enormity of the stars in the sky, the number of creatures in the ocean.
And it was with great excitement and enthusiasm when the people of Janurais heard that a great ball would be given in honor of their youngest son, Prince Draco. The White Snake.
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"FATHER!" Draco's anger reached it's peak as emotions of frustration and betrayal raced through his body. He breathed in three times before continuing. It would do no good to be yelling if he were to reason with the old coot. "Once again, I do not see why I am in need of a bride at such an early age. I am the third in succession of your throne and Nox will be having a baby soon in the winter. Why…I ask you why must I marry on the day of my 18th birthday?"
In emphasis Draco pointed at Nox and his pregnant wife Allum who sat to Lucius' left at the dinner table. His green velvet sleeves threatened to dip into the gravy from a nearby plate. It didn't matter though, they could be cleaned later by some servant.
His father, poise and gracefully taking in his son's tantrum, listened silently to Draco and watched him with unwavering gray eyes. Everyone seated at the table had stopped eating and looked uncertainly between the two contrasting royals. A heavy look of irritation flashed across Queen Narcissa's usually calm face.
"It is because, Draco, your increasingly careless actions in your studies, activities, and duty to the kingdom are cause for me to worry. You need a lesson in responsibility and obligation. Thus your mother and I both decided that it was best to have you wed someone who will hopefully teach you a few of these necessities since you seem incapable of accomplishing both by yourself."
Draco's anger quickly resurfaced. "I am not careless in my studies! I have learned all that was useful from those damned tutors! They can teach me no more than what they have already given me! And the assignment you allotted me in instructing the building of a bridge over the Hudston river has gone flawlessly! You just can't accept that I am no longer your baby boy. Must you continue in directing my life until the day I die?"
He breathed heavily through his nostrils to supply air to his deprived lungs after giving his speech. Lucius brought a gloved finger up to his chin as in contemplation.
"No Draco, you cannot see it yourself."
Draco gave a frustrated growl.
"We are only doing this because you are still a rash young man even at such an advanced age. You will pick a bride by the end of this month. I am your father and you will follow the will of your king. Now, we will not discuss the matter of your abilities any more. Pass the blueberry sauce, will you dear?"
The White Snake stood up from his seat at the table and glared at anyone unfortunate enough to sit near the King. Once last voice reached his ears as he exited the room.
"You've got a bit of gravy on your sleeve, brother."
Echoes of a frustrated scream quietly reached the family. It was gratefully ignored.
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Blah blah blah. FYI I'm not continuing this piece of fan fiction. I did it to test my writing skills (aspiring to write a children's novel integrating a number of copyright-expired tales into one tale). Feedback on my descriptions would be welcome though.
Overall the story would have gone like this (for those who want closure): Harry is a type of "Cinderella," he begins to work at Draco's castle for extra money (which Vernon greedily takes three-fourths of), draco/harry interaction here but because draco dresses like a pauper on the particular day that they meet Harry does not know his identity (and ya know that bridge draco built? It collapses as Harry walks across it, so draco gets guilty and thus feels more responsible for his duties through this). Draco continues his identity as a pauper in front of harry. More Cinderella dilemmas for harry and on the night of the ball (Dumbledore, of course, being the fairy godmother) they dance and Draco realizes he's (sigh) in love. Midnight always manages to strike, so harry runs back where his suspicious aunt petinua waits (she sees him at the ball…wants her son Dudley (ew ew ew) or neighbor pansy to marry draco for money) and beats him then kicks him out of the house. He seeks shelter and finds it in the house of lustful mr. Finnigan who molests him until the weasleys save him where after his ordeal with Finnegan, harry falls into a coma. The weasley brothers (and sister) then take care of his body and place him in a bed incased with glass. Draco then searches for harry (lovelovelove..like the beast in beauty and the beast he is transformed into a more worldly person b/c of what Harry has taught him). Draco finds Harry with the Weasleys. Kiss kiss. Happy ending. And the bitter Pansy and Finnegan fall down a hill one day. SNAP goes their necks! HAHA!
I suck. However, my favorites section is filled with a delightful array of harry/draco stories by other wonderful authors of good writing abilities.