This is my new story (the other one's will be updated soon) and I hope you enjoy this...
Quick warnings for story and in the future: Implied Violence, Slash, Death of a Character.
Harry Potter, a small black haired boy of about nine, was lying out on his front lawn looking up at the clouds, in an oversized brown jumper the exact colostrum of the parched ground. The grass desperately needed a watering after the months they'd had of no rain but there was a ban on hosepipe usage and sprinklers so for now the ground would just have to go thirsty. Harry was just starting to sing to himself the rhyme his mother must have sung to him when he was a baby – "If only I could touch the sky, maybe I can fly away from here, fly away to place where I belong, to a place where I will be loved..." – when a voice jolted him from his thoughts.
"Why are you lying on the ground? Don't you know it's dirty?" the voice said.
Harry looked up to find a boy, who couldn't be much older than he was, staring down at him, with blonde hair that would have flopped into his face if it had not had been so firmly fixed back. The boy seemed genuinely inquisitive to why Harry was lying on the floor so Harry took pity on him and told him; "I'm lying here because the clouds make up lots of pictures. They help me make my stories."
"What stories do you make?" the blonde boy asked, now sounding rather wary of him, and Harry noticed that this boy was dressed in what was probably the most formal outfit Harry had ever seen in real life. He had to be from the posh area that Aunt Petunia wished they lived in then.
"I make stories about witches and wizards," Harry replied, "I sometimes have dreams about magic that feel so real. So when I have to do chores then I think about the dreams and add into them my own bits."
"You know about witches and wizards?"
The question didn't really make much sense to Harry. Sure a lot of the people in his area and from his school didn't read that much but surely everyone had heard of Merlin and such? This boy seemed to be treating it like it was some big secret or something and Harry was, if he was quite frank, confused. But then the boy spoke again and now Harry had no idea what he was on; "Are you a wizard?"
"No, of course I'm not. I'm just Harry," Harry replied. He realized afterwards he had given his name away to a stranger, like Petunia told him not to, but what was this pale thin boy going to do to him anyway?
"I'm a wizard," the boy said, with such a confidant arrogance about him that for a second Harry almost believed the words he said. Then he remembered that he wasn't in one of his dreams or doing chores or making up another story so this boy couldn't be telling the truth.
"No you're not!" he retorted.
"I am," the boy said rather calmly, "Mother and Father said I wasn't to tell anyone this or show them what I can do but I could show you if you'd like?"
Harry was going to say "Show me what?" but changed his mind when he wondered if the boy would think him to be stupid. So instead he managed to engage his brain a little bit more and said, "Go ahead then," – he used a phrase that Aunt Petunia said a lot – "Be my guest."
The boy stepped up to Harry, who felt a little foolish and sat up, so he could see him properly and whatever he was about to do too. The boy plucked a flower, a small slightly pink daisy, from the ground and held it between his thumb and forefinger. With a look of abject concentration on his face he stared at the flower and Harry stared too. Nothing happened. Harry was about to say this, in case the boy hadn't noticed, but then the flower's petals began to open and close like some sort of crazy multi-lipped oyster. Harry gasped.
"See?" the boy said sounding proud of himself, as the flower continued to open and close, "I told you I was a wizard."
Harry could have demanded that the boy do it again with something else or perform another magic trick. He could have insisted that this boy was just weird and had something really wrong with him like the boys at school told Harry about himself. But instead he smiled up at the boy and said, "I'm Harry, what's your name?"
"I'm Draco Malfoy," the blonde boy replied, "But I don't live round here. I live up by the large river but my parents are visiting a friend of theirs around here. I don't think they really like her that much, because they didn't seem to pleased to be coming, but Mother said I wouldn't understand it when I asked her. This lady is called Mrs Date or Prune or something..."
"Mrs Figg?" Harry asked eagerly, "Does this lady have lots of cats?"
"Yes! When we walked into her house it smelt of fish and wet cats and something else that made Mother wrinkle her nose like this," – there was quick demonstration whilst Draco crinkled his nose right up – "Then they sent me outside to play but there was nothing to do so I had a walk and then I saw you outside your house."
"This is my Aunt and Uncle's house," Harry said morosely, looking down at his feet on the ground, tracing pattern with his tatty trainer toe in the dust.
"Oh, are you just visiting for the day too?" Draco asked him.
"No I live with my aunt and my uncle and my cousin," Harry said sadly, "My parents were killed a long time ago when I was a baby and I've lived with them for as long as I can remember."
Draco was about to ask the boy another question about himself when suddenly a woman came bustling out of the house, a thin, horse-faced woman who looked quite mean. She spotted Harry and hurried over to them looking furious and then hauled Harry to his feet by the collar of his jumper. Draco was rather scared of the horse lady who hissed, "Stay away from the freak," to him and then dragged Harry back inside without so much as time for Harry to wave goodbye. Draco watched him go sadly and then walked back to the cat house so he didn't get told off. He arrived back at the same time as they were coming out of the house.
His father looked absolutely furious as he strode up the path with his Mother trailing behind looking terrified. Lucius grabbed Draco by the top of his arm and they were pulled away from the house, down a small back alley and then apparated home.
I haven't written in such a long time because of my GCSE's and now I finally find that I can update this with this story because the other's I can't concentrate on right now. Review if you want – Charlie (yeahishipdrarry)