Disclaimer: I own nothing but the computer that let me type up this nonsense. I'm just worshipping, people, just worshipping!

A/N: I'm making Harry and Draco brothers in this fic. Just because I can. Ha.

A/N (number 2, december 2007): I edited a few things, because I can, I did, and there's NOTHING you can do about it - HA.

Summary: Draco Malfoy: 17-year old rich boy. Harry Potter: 17-year old orphan who gets adopted by the Malfoys. The catch? Harry and Draco are both just a little bit gay. The problem? They're practically related.

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Life ain't written on stained glass, honey

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-Harry's POV-

You know how in all of those movies and books you see and read, the young orphans go all crazy with joy when they realize they're getting adopted? In those movies and books, you just see - or read - how their cute little kid faces light up and they start crying tears of joy at the mere thought of being adopted? I guess you start to think: "Hey, why don't I adopt one of those little orphan children? All of them must be miserable there, in those orphanages."

WRONG!

Not all of those 'little orphaned children' are miserable in 'those orphanages'. Not all of those 'little orphaned children' are dying to be adopted by weird... sometimes mentally-retarded old crazy-cat ladies. Some of us are actually happy there!

Yes, yes, I know, I'm exaggerating here, but come on! How would you like it if you were suddenly being shipped off to a random person's house just to live with a random person or couple that you don't even know? How would you like it if you had to live with someone that might turn out to be a child molestor or a pedophile Micheal Jackson look-alike? I'd bet that you wouldn't like that very much, now would you?

I know I wouldn't like that. And I know that you probably wouldn't like that, too.

So. The reason for all of my whining-slash-ranting is because I, Harry Potter, an ex-orphan (if that term even exists), am going to be shipped off to a random couple's - who, might I add, I haven't even met or seen yet - house. Should I mention that the 'random couple' that I'm going to be shipped off to is, apparently, totally filthy rich?

I know, I don't believe it either. Really, I don't. And even it if were true, I still don't like the idea of being adopted - even if it was by a filthy rich, buy-whatever-you-want-because-I-have-truckloads-of-cash couple. I mean, who the heck would want to live with a pair of stuck-up, rich snobs who live in a (supposedly) gigantic mansion? I know I wouldn't!

Ok, that came out wrong.

Last time I checked, pretty much everyone on earth (well. at least those who are either poor, without parents, homeless or miserable) wants to live with a filthy rich family and live in a (supposedly) gigantic mansion filled with servants and people cleaning up after you all the time. I'm just one of those 'special children' who don't want to. Ha.

I bet that those snobby rich people will ship me back to the orphanage the moment they find out that I am -cough- gay. Because they're probably homophobic. Just like a good part of the planet's population is. Sadly.

Right, I'm going to shut up and explain things a little. So, hi, I'm Harry Potter-soon-to-be-Potter-Malfoy. I'm 17 years old, Five feet and nine inches tall, and I weigh about 128 pounds. My parents died in a car crash when I was 1, and I've been in the orphanage since. I have black hair, green eyes, a weird, lightning-bolt scar on my forehead (don't even think about calling me 'scarhead', it's annoying enough at the orphanage) and I'm pretty thin. I'm scared of squirrels, I'm still in love with Spongebob Squarepants and I have an odd addiction to ice-cream.

Now that I've told you a lot of useless information, on to the story. I'm an orphan. Well, technically, not anymore, but hey, I'm allowed to call myself 'orphan' as long as I like, right? So. I've been an orphan for ... 16 years, and now suddenly, BOOM! I'm adopted by one of THE richest people on earth.

The Malfoys.

Now, why am I making such a fuss about it? Honestly, I don't really know. Maybe it's because I don't like the idea of living with snobby rich people - and, to tell you the truth, I don't really know if they're snobby or not, but I have a feeling that they are.

I was actually pretty happy at the orphanage, you know? I had (gay) friends, and I felt very welcome there. The people were very kind (if not sometimes stupid and boring) and they seemed a little sad when they found out I was going to be adopted. I'm still in shock, myself! I mean, why would someone suddenly adopt me now? Especially at my age! Why not just adopt me when I was 3 or something, then at least I would have been too young to understand what was going on.

You know what? I'll shut up now.

I think I forgot to mention it, but I"m acutally in a car right this moment, on my way to the Malfoys' place. I don't really like riding in cars. It's very boring. Suddenly, the car stops and the driver tells me that we're finally there.

And by 'there', I mean the Malfoy Estate.

"Finally," I grumble, but not too loud so that the old driver can't hear me. I grab my black hoodie, which was on the seat beside me and open the car door, stepping outside. I turn around to look at the house I'm going to be staying at for the rest of my life. ...Okay, maybe not that long, but still.

Holy. Mother. Fucker.

"It's HUGE!" I exclaim loudly, my eyes as wide as saucers when I saw the mansion. They weren't kidding at. all. The Malfoys' house - mansion, estate, whatever, - is bloody gigantic!

I bet that there's about... 10 bedrooms in there. I mean, at least 10. I wouldn't be surprised if there were more.

"Your bags, sir," the fat driver grunted, dumping my suitcases and bags onto the cement roughly, not even caring if anything broke or not. In fact, he didn't even seem to notice me glaring at him. He must be blind. Well, if not blind, then he must be lacking serious manners, or just a very large amount of brain cells.

"Thanks," I say, bending over to pick them up, adding a quick, "for nothing," under my breath.

As I moved over to grab the handle of one of my suitcases, there was a long, gloved hand that beat me to it. I looked up and saw a tall man with a stoic face dressed up in a suit. I'm going to give a nice guess and say that he's the butler.

"Hello, Mr. Potter," he told me, bowing slightly. He had a funny little moustache and I had to bite my tongue to keep from laughing. "My name is Reginald," he said curtly. "I am your personal butler assigned by the Malfoys."

Ha, I knew it! He was the butler... wait, did he say 'personal'? As in, my own butler? Brilliant.

He then took all my bags and turned to bring them to the (gigantic) entrance door. Is this guy mad? Doesn't he at least want any help?

"Um, sir, d'you need any he-"

"-It's alright, Sir," Reginald interrupted, nose in the air. "This is but a simple task for me to do, and I am pleased to do it for you. And please, sir, call me Reginald."

"Er... okay," I muttered clumsily, walking a few steps behind him. Yeah, this guy is definitly mental.

Once we were at the (gigantic) front doors, he put down some of my bags and turned the (large, shiny) handle and gave the door a small push. It opened with a creak and he bowed, motioning for me to get in first. I nodded and then, slowly, stepped inside.

I swear, my jaw was practically touching the floor by now. The inside was waaaaaay bigger then I thought it would be!

The floor was made of marble and looked like a large chessboard, black squares here and there. There were many hundreds of portraits and paintings on the walls, and I saw a beautiful chandelier atop my head. The ceiling looked miles away from the floor. The staircase was long and looked like it was never-ending.

"Holy..." I breathe, looking up and down. In all of my seventeen years of being alive (and, really, seventeen years isn't so long), I've never seen anything so beautiful.

"So," a voice then said from behind me. I turned around to find the most beautiful boy staring at me. His hair was like silk; it looked so... light and well taken-care of. The boy was pale and had the most beautiful grey eyes I've ever seen my whole life. OK, so maybe the mansion was the second most beautiful thing that I've seen my whole entire seventeen-years of living. It easily lost against this pretty creature, over here.

He walked up to me so that we were a mere feet or two apart. I then noticed that he was somewhat shorter than me - and thinner, too.

"So," He repeated. "You must be my new brother."

My jaw nearly dropped to the ground. Brother?! So that definitly means that we can't one day go out together and have mad, ravenous sex under the moonlight? NO!