* * = thoughts
- - = emphasized words
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
It was dark. The only light that showed its face was coming from the moon. It acted as a spotlight, creating great contrasts between shadowy places, where the moonlight hit, and in a room in number 4 Privet Drive, where Harry Potter lay wide awake.
He hadn't been able to sleep all night. Or for the rest of the summer, for that matter. *"The thing you dread will indeed come to pass."* The voice of his Divination teacher, Professor Trelawney, rang in his ears. Then a high-pitched, blood-curling scream. Harry buried his face into his pillow. *"Cedric.dead!"* All these voices from the previous year just wouldn't leave him.
Professor Dumbledore had said that he would be safe at his home. But how? The Dursleys (his deceased mother's sister's family, whom Harry lived with and treated him like scum) are just muggles. They wouldn't stand a chance against the now-risen Dark Lord, Voldemort, whose name people feared to speak and was after Harry . . .
Harry was famous for defeating the Dark Lord three times. Now, he would be known to be the one who helped bring him back. People would hate him. Harry supposed he couldn't really trust as many people as he used to.there were still his two best friends, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, and a few others, such as Professor Dumbledore, Professor Lupin, and Hagrid. They could be trusted and asked for help without a doubt. Oh, and Sirius. Sirius was Harry's godfather. But how could Sirius help? He was a convicted murderer and was on the run. Even though Harry knew Sirius was innocent, he also knew that if he helped he would surely expose himself.
Ever since the end of his fourth year at Hogwart's School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Harry had fallen into a state of depression. Even letters from his friends couldn't seem to cheer him up like they usually did. He felt -thin-, like butter scraped over too much bread (1). At times when he felt especially miserable, he even questioned the point of living on. He had caused happiness when he defeated the Dark Lord those many years ago, but now he had contributed to what is sure to be pain, suffering, and maybe even death. Not intentionally, of course, but still . . .
Harry closed his eyes and exhaled shakily. All he wanted was to live a normal life, or to start over. He wished none of this had ever happened. And he had no one; his friends wouldn't understand, and the Dursleys would sooner give him a million pounds before actually listening to him.
A loud, persistent tapping noise tore him away from his thoughts. Reluctantly, Harry opened his eyes. A large white eagle owl he had never seen before was fluttering outside his window, tapping its beak on the glass to get Harry's attention. *It must be my school letter,* he thought. He rolled out of bed and stumbled towards the window. He slid it open and detached the letter tied to the owl's leg before it flew off into the night. After shutting his window, Harry headed back towards his bed with the letter, which he noticed, did not have anything written on the envelope. *Hold on,* thought Harry, stopping in his tracks. *This isn't a school letter; it doesn't have the school seal on it. But who . . . ?*
Sitting down on his bed, Harry hastily opened the letter. Maybe it was from Sirius; he never labeled his letters in case they were intercepted. *But it isn't from him,* noted Harry, scanning the letter; *his handwriting is not as neat as this.* Even though it was neater, it looked like it had been written in a hurry. Curious, Harry's eyes darted to the bottom of the page to see whom it was from, but nothing prepared him for what he was about to see. When he read the signature, his jaw dropped and the letter fluttered from his hands.
"M-Malfoy?!?"
*No way. No freaking way.* Stunned, he stood up quickly and backed away from his bed, where the unread letter lay. *It's probably cursed.* Draco Malfoy, his nemesis, was the son of Lucius Malfoy, a Death Eater and for sure inside the Dark Lord's inner circle. Or maybe there was some sort of charm on the letter that put a marker on him once he opened it, showing the Death Eaters, or Voldemort's followers, where he was. It must do -something-; it's not like Harry and Draco Malfoy were friendly with one another. They weren't even on first name terms. Harry stared at the letter, which was still lying innocently at the end of his bed, moonlight pouring over its printing. Grabbing his wand from his bedside table, Harry went back to the bed and prodded the letter with his wand. Nothing. So, cautiously, he picked up the letter with two fingers and read:
"Potter,
I know that I, of all people, don't usually ask for help, being
me, but now I need it. And this letter isn't cursed, if that's
what you're thinking; I'm serious."
Harry relaxed a bit, but still kept his guard, and sat down on his bed. Eyebrows furrowed, he continued reading.
"Anyway, to the point. You've got no idea how creepy it is for
You-Know-Who to visit your house . . . or maybe you do, I don't
know. It really freaks me out, having . . . HIM talk to my father
and planning some things. HORRIBLE things. I know I'm supposed
to be just like my father and all, but he makes me so mad! He has
always told me how to act, what to think, what to say. Always
breathing down my neck. But I'm breaking away - I'm sick and
tired of being over shadowed by a little -" Malfoy called his
father something that made Harry raise his eyebrows, " - like him.
So why am I telling you this? Whether you like it or not, you're
the only person in the world that actually has a chance against
You-Know-Who. As I said before, he's planning really, really bad
things. And he's got me getting involved in them . . . and I've
got to tell you something. Please . . . just trust me, okay? I
don't care if you believe it or not, I don't want to turn out to
be like the snot I have for a father. And as much as I don't like
associating myself with you, the wizarding world is not much of a
great place to be as long as You-Know-Who is around.
As I said before, I don't usually ask for help. So I must seem
pretty desperate to you. Well, I am.
-Draco Malfoy
P.S. Look out the window, you stupid, git, and let me in." Harry narrowed his eyes in suspicion and anger. Who did Malfoy think he was? Some sort of savior? Still fuming, he crept over to the window and shoved it open.
"About time," said that all-too-familiar drawl that Harry despised so much. There he was, the blonde-haired, grey-eyed, tall Slytherin, half-hidden behind a bush. He emerged when he saw Harry, looking impatient. "Let me in, come on . . ."
"No way!" Harry whispered angrily. "Why should I? We have never been on good terms; why should I suddenly trust you now?"
"Because I need -help-, and I can't go to anyone else, they'd tell my father before you can say 'Quidditch,'" he hissed.
"But surely Voldemort has visited your house before," Malfoy flinched at the sound of the Dark Lord's name, which slightly amused Harry. He was one of few people who were not afraid to speak Voldemort's name. As Dumbledore always said, 'Fear of the name only increases fear of the thing itself.' "Why do you come running to me now? Has the rich and glorious Draco Malfoy finally cracked?"
Harry said this with a hint or sarcasm in his voice, which made Malfoy redden with anger on the ground below. Strangely enough, he seemed at loss for words.
"I . . ." he stammered. "He . . . wants to, er - I - I have to . . ."
"What is it?" asked Harry, his eyebrow arched. It was peculiar sight, watching Malfoy stutter like that, he was usually well spoken and calm, and spoke with that famous Malfoy sneer.
"He . . . er . . . Tomorrow, he - they're going to . . . to . . ."
"Spit it out Malfoy!" Harry was getting annoyed.
"They want to tattoo the Dark Mark on me tomorrow!" he blurted out, eyes looking up and wringing his hands desperately.
Harry stared wide-eyed at him. He saw fear in his eyes. He did a double take, and looked again. Yes, it was fear. Draco Malfoy, afraid? This was new. Under normal circumstances, Harry would have enjoyed this sight. Malfoy looked so small and helpless . . . or was it just because he was looking down on him? But these weren't normal circumstances . . . no one deserved to get the Dark Mark on them. Once they had it, they would be connected to Voldemort till their death. And Harry knew what Voldemort was capable of . . . he had experienced it first hand. He didn't wish that on anybody, not even Draco Malfoy . . .
"Fine," he resigned, sighing. Draco looked up at him. "But you've got to be quiet, you'll wake -them-," he warned, gesturing to the next window with his head.
Draco's blue-grey eyes brightened and shone with something Harry had never seen in his eyes before - hope. Harry also noticed that he was shaking a bit before, but now he looked a lot more relieved and calm. "Of course," he whispered gratefully. "Thanks."
"Whatever," Harry muttered. "Meet me at the side door, I'll let you in."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
TA-DA!!!!
Okay, people, now you have to review. This story was originally an English report (which I got an A on, by the way ^_^ yay!), where I had to think up an alternate ending-type-thing for a book you read that year. Of course, I chose Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, and I also obviously wrote this before the fifth book came out . . . So the reason why it keep mentioning stuff that most Harry Potter fans would already know is cuz my teacher hasn't read the books (DIE TEACHER DIE!!!), so I had to explain some stuff.
Anyway, I dunno, I might turn this into a normal friendship fic, where Draco turns of the 'good' side or sumthing, OR I might turn this into a Draco x Harry fic (*cough* DracoHarryfic *cough*). But I dunno . . .
So, what are you sitting around waiting for?!? Review and tell me what you think!!! And give me your opinion on what I should do with this fic . . . being a yaoi fan I am leaning towards a yaoi fic *eye twitches*. So ya . . . review!!!
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
It was dark. The only light that showed its face was coming from the moon. It acted as a spotlight, creating great contrasts between shadowy places, where the moonlight hit, and in a room in number 4 Privet Drive, where Harry Potter lay wide awake.
He hadn't been able to sleep all night. Or for the rest of the summer, for that matter. *"The thing you dread will indeed come to pass."* The voice of his Divination teacher, Professor Trelawney, rang in his ears. Then a high-pitched, blood-curling scream. Harry buried his face into his pillow. *"Cedric.dead!"* All these voices from the previous year just wouldn't leave him.
Professor Dumbledore had said that he would be safe at his home. But how? The Dursleys (his deceased mother's sister's family, whom Harry lived with and treated him like scum) are just muggles. They wouldn't stand a chance against the now-risen Dark Lord, Voldemort, whose name people feared to speak and was after Harry . . .
Harry was famous for defeating the Dark Lord three times. Now, he would be known to be the one who helped bring him back. People would hate him. Harry supposed he couldn't really trust as many people as he used to.there were still his two best friends, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, and a few others, such as Professor Dumbledore, Professor Lupin, and Hagrid. They could be trusted and asked for help without a doubt. Oh, and Sirius. Sirius was Harry's godfather. But how could Sirius help? He was a convicted murderer and was on the run. Even though Harry knew Sirius was innocent, he also knew that if he helped he would surely expose himself.
Ever since the end of his fourth year at Hogwart's School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Harry had fallen into a state of depression. Even letters from his friends couldn't seem to cheer him up like they usually did. He felt -thin-, like butter scraped over too much bread (1). At times when he felt especially miserable, he even questioned the point of living on. He had caused happiness when he defeated the Dark Lord those many years ago, but now he had contributed to what is sure to be pain, suffering, and maybe even death. Not intentionally, of course, but still . . .
Harry closed his eyes and exhaled shakily. All he wanted was to live a normal life, or to start over. He wished none of this had ever happened. And he had no one; his friends wouldn't understand, and the Dursleys would sooner give him a million pounds before actually listening to him.
A loud, persistent tapping noise tore him away from his thoughts. Reluctantly, Harry opened his eyes. A large white eagle owl he had never seen before was fluttering outside his window, tapping its beak on the glass to get Harry's attention. *It must be my school letter,* he thought. He rolled out of bed and stumbled towards the window. He slid it open and detached the letter tied to the owl's leg before it flew off into the night. After shutting his window, Harry headed back towards his bed with the letter, which he noticed, did not have anything written on the envelope. *Hold on,* thought Harry, stopping in his tracks. *This isn't a school letter; it doesn't have the school seal on it. But who . . . ?*
Sitting down on his bed, Harry hastily opened the letter. Maybe it was from Sirius; he never labeled his letters in case they were intercepted. *But it isn't from him,* noted Harry, scanning the letter; *his handwriting is not as neat as this.* Even though it was neater, it looked like it had been written in a hurry. Curious, Harry's eyes darted to the bottom of the page to see whom it was from, but nothing prepared him for what he was about to see. When he read the signature, his jaw dropped and the letter fluttered from his hands.
"M-Malfoy?!?"
*No way. No freaking way.* Stunned, he stood up quickly and backed away from his bed, where the unread letter lay. *It's probably cursed.* Draco Malfoy, his nemesis, was the son of Lucius Malfoy, a Death Eater and for sure inside the Dark Lord's inner circle. Or maybe there was some sort of charm on the letter that put a marker on him once he opened it, showing the Death Eaters, or Voldemort's followers, where he was. It must do -something-; it's not like Harry and Draco Malfoy were friendly with one another. They weren't even on first name terms. Harry stared at the letter, which was still lying innocently at the end of his bed, moonlight pouring over its printing. Grabbing his wand from his bedside table, Harry went back to the bed and prodded the letter with his wand. Nothing. So, cautiously, he picked up the letter with two fingers and read:
"Potter,
I know that I, of all people, don't usually ask for help, being
me, but now I need it. And this letter isn't cursed, if that's
what you're thinking; I'm serious."
Harry relaxed a bit, but still kept his guard, and sat down on his bed. Eyebrows furrowed, he continued reading.
"Anyway, to the point. You've got no idea how creepy it is for
You-Know-Who to visit your house . . . or maybe you do, I don't
know. It really freaks me out, having . . . HIM talk to my father
and planning some things. HORRIBLE things. I know I'm supposed
to be just like my father and all, but he makes me so mad! He has
always told me how to act, what to think, what to say. Always
breathing down my neck. But I'm breaking away - I'm sick and
tired of being over shadowed by a little -" Malfoy called his
father something that made Harry raise his eyebrows, " - like him.
So why am I telling you this? Whether you like it or not, you're
the only person in the world that actually has a chance against
You-Know-Who. As I said before, he's planning really, really bad
things. And he's got me getting involved in them . . . and I've
got to tell you something. Please . . . just trust me, okay? I
don't care if you believe it or not, I don't want to turn out to
be like the snot I have for a father. And as much as I don't like
associating myself with you, the wizarding world is not much of a
great place to be as long as You-Know-Who is around.
As I said before, I don't usually ask for help. So I must seem
pretty desperate to you. Well, I am.
-Draco Malfoy
P.S. Look out the window, you stupid, git, and let me in." Harry narrowed his eyes in suspicion and anger. Who did Malfoy think he was? Some sort of savior? Still fuming, he crept over to the window and shoved it open.
"About time," said that all-too-familiar drawl that Harry despised so much. There he was, the blonde-haired, grey-eyed, tall Slytherin, half-hidden behind a bush. He emerged when he saw Harry, looking impatient. "Let me in, come on . . ."
"No way!" Harry whispered angrily. "Why should I? We have never been on good terms; why should I suddenly trust you now?"
"Because I need -help-, and I can't go to anyone else, they'd tell my father before you can say 'Quidditch,'" he hissed.
"But surely Voldemort has visited your house before," Malfoy flinched at the sound of the Dark Lord's name, which slightly amused Harry. He was one of few people who were not afraid to speak Voldemort's name. As Dumbledore always said, 'Fear of the name only increases fear of the thing itself.' "Why do you come running to me now? Has the rich and glorious Draco Malfoy finally cracked?"
Harry said this with a hint or sarcasm in his voice, which made Malfoy redden with anger on the ground below. Strangely enough, he seemed at loss for words.
"I . . ." he stammered. "He . . . wants to, er - I - I have to . . ."
"What is it?" asked Harry, his eyebrow arched. It was peculiar sight, watching Malfoy stutter like that, he was usually well spoken and calm, and spoke with that famous Malfoy sneer.
"He . . . er . . . Tomorrow, he - they're going to . . . to . . ."
"Spit it out Malfoy!" Harry was getting annoyed.
"They want to tattoo the Dark Mark on me tomorrow!" he blurted out, eyes looking up and wringing his hands desperately.
Harry stared wide-eyed at him. He saw fear in his eyes. He did a double take, and looked again. Yes, it was fear. Draco Malfoy, afraid? This was new. Under normal circumstances, Harry would have enjoyed this sight. Malfoy looked so small and helpless . . . or was it just because he was looking down on him? But these weren't normal circumstances . . . no one deserved to get the Dark Mark on them. Once they had it, they would be connected to Voldemort till their death. And Harry knew what Voldemort was capable of . . . he had experienced it first hand. He didn't wish that on anybody, not even Draco Malfoy . . .
"Fine," he resigned, sighing. Draco looked up at him. "But you've got to be quiet, you'll wake -them-," he warned, gesturing to the next window with his head.
Draco's blue-grey eyes brightened and shone with something Harry had never seen in his eyes before - hope. Harry also noticed that he was shaking a bit before, but now he looked a lot more relieved and calm. "Of course," he whispered gratefully. "Thanks."
"Whatever," Harry muttered. "Meet me at the side door, I'll let you in."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
TA-DA!!!!
Okay, people, now you have to review. This story was originally an English report (which I got an A on, by the way ^_^ yay!), where I had to think up an alternate ending-type-thing for a book you read that year. Of course, I chose Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, and I also obviously wrote this before the fifth book came out . . . So the reason why it keep mentioning stuff that most Harry Potter fans would already know is cuz my teacher hasn't read the books (DIE TEACHER DIE!!!), so I had to explain some stuff.
Anyway, I dunno, I might turn this into a normal friendship fic, where Draco turns of the 'good' side or sumthing, OR I might turn this into a Draco x Harry fic (*cough* DracoHarryfic *cough*). But I dunno . . .
So, what are you sitting around waiting for?!? Review and tell me what you think!!! And give me your opinion on what I should do with this fic . . . being a yaoi fan I am leaning towards a yaoi fic *eye twitches*. So ya . . . review!!!