BEGINNING

{1}

Draco woke up from dreams of running in meadows in full bloom and resting under apple trees. It was a good start of the day; he always tried to look forward to something good in each day. However, the fact that he'd dreamt of his childhood, after a few nights of senseless dreams, should be a good omen about this particular day.

He needed the reassurance of the sign too, because he would be going to Hogwarts—for the first time!—with Aunt Dolores, the girls, and the rest of the villagers. The whole kingdom would gather in the capital of the kingdom to welcome back King Harrison and celebrate their victory against the Western kingdoms, those that have tried to conquer Ladon since the death of King James and Queen Lily. They'd clearly underestimated King Harrison (Just a Prince, then) who had taken over the throne only a year after his parents' deaths.

For the past six years, transport between the villages and major towns had been restricted for delivery of goods and services, and was monitored strictly for the safety of the citizens. Because Ladon was a very vast kingdom, and its towns were separated by rivers, forests, and mountains, King Harrison hadn't wanted to risk his people's safety and had all places heavily monitored and secured by the kingdom's soldiers and guards.

Draco, who couldn't remember much about his childhood and the times before the wars because of an accident, had been confined in Hogsmeade and its closest neighbors. He'd only been able to visit small festivals and village dances because of Pansy helping him sneak out during nighttime. His greatest desire was to see his country and see firsthand the places that Pansy had told him about, especially Gryffindor's Castle and Hogwarts.

With the end of the wars and the treaties in place, Draco could begin fulfilling that desire today.

After making up his bed and washing himself, Draco opened the windows of his room and saw that the sun wasn't up yet. He breathed in the fresh air, feeling exceptionally giddy today, and went downstairs to start his aunt's and cousin's breakfasts.

{2}

Around him, his soldiers and captains were singing songs about victory and going home. Harry tried his best to smile for them, no matter how tired and drained he felt. They were on their way back to Gryffindor's Castle, where Harry could finally escape to his bedroom to sleep and visit his parents' shrines.

He didn't miss the irony that on the day that the last of the Northern kingdoms surrendered, was also the day eight years ago that he lost his parents, his surrogate aunt and uncle, and Draco. Harry would always grieve for them. Even when he had spent the years relentlessly convincing and proving to the kingdom and the dukes and earls that he could step in his role as King at such a young age, they were always on his mind.

"Your Majesty, I've just received confirmation that all the preparations for the weeklong festival are set," Remus told him, breaking Harry from this reveries. The man had been one of Harry's guides and strongest supporters when he'd assumed the throne and he'd learned to trust him, as his father did.

Harry hummed. "Very well. And the ceremonies to honor the heroes of the war?" He jerked his head to the men singing behind him. They'd lost many valiant warriors within the seven-year war. Harry wanted their indispensable contribution to the start of peace and security recognized by the entire kingdom.

"As we speak, all the people of the kingdom are making their way or gathering in the entrance of the palace to welcome them as heroes, King Harrison," Remus replied softly. The festival and grand welcome was supposed to be a surprise for all their men.

"Are there accommodations for all the travellers who wish to stay for an entire week, Remus?" asked Harry, trying to make sure that everything was well for his people. This was an important occasion for everyone. It was a beginning for his people after such dark times.

"Yes, Your Highness. Surprisingly, many have opened their homes in Hogwarts to travellers. Other than that, the servants' quarters were also opened as a temporary dwelling for others."

"Good. I know that this is an important celebration, but I still want security to be tight and every guard on alert and patrols all day round. I don't want us letting our guard down no matter how little, am I clear?"

"Yes, King Harrison," Remus murmured, looking at the young man in front of him with pride. He smirked. "Severus asked me to relay a message, my King."

Harry grunted and could barely keep rolling his eyes. He knew what the message was.

"He wanted to inform you that all princesses and eligible consorts for your Highness had been invited for the grand ball at the end of the festival. It would be advisable, according to him, if His Majesty would think about choosing a bride in the ball."

Ugh. "Please tell Severus that I still consider the idea of choosing a wife or husband very trivial and the least of my worries." With that, Harry kicked his horse to a gallop, leaving Remus behind.

He didn't want any other wife or husband. Even after eight years, Harry had been unable to accept the fact that Draco was dead, much less think that he could stop loving the boy. The mere thought that he would have to choose and marry somebody to be his spouse and provide an heir for the throne felt like betrayal. His heart would always constrict and guilt would flood his stomach; Harry would feel ten years old again, that time when he forgot about his promise to bring Draco's favorite narcissi and lilies when the other boy was sick.

That was so long ago, but Harry found that these memories could still lift his heart and spirits up. Even as a memory, Draco would still be able to outshine any prospect for Harry's heart in a beat.

I miss you so much.

{3}

"Draaaaco, the breakfast you prepared this morning is such a bore," whined Romilda, his cousin, as she moved the scrambled eggs and sausages around her plate. She pouted at her mother, Dolores, and pushed the plate away from her. "I don't want this. It's so greasy. This is going to ruin my figure."

Draco, who had been standing near the dining table just in case Aunt Dolores or any of the girls needed anything, bit down a retort. "I'm sorry, Romilda, but we'll be travelling great distance today. I just thought that everyone would need the extra energy. Hence, the heavy breakfast—"

"Tutut. Who told you, Draco dear, that you can make decisions for us?" asked Aunt Dolores, glaring at Draco over her pink teacup. She was being extra evil today, if Draco should say so. This was her fifth gleeful jab at him, and they hadn't even been awake for half of an hour.

Nevertheless, he held back.

"My apologies, Aunt Dolores. I'll just... just bring out the fruits and some bread and milk for all of you then. Like always," he said, bowing slightly and going to the pantry in the kitchen. He heard Marietta, his other cousin, shout to also bring out muffins. He quickly gathered all the food in a tray and brought it out to them. Aunt Dolores lifted her teacup towards him, and Draco refilled it instantly. She gestured towards her daughters' teacups, and he refilled those two. He even added the two sugars and three dashes of milk for Marietta and stirred it for her.

This had been his life every single day since he woke up and recovered from the nasty encounter with the wolves that had killed his parents. All he could remember then was his given name and the feeling of great fear and running away. The healer had said that he was suffering from a form of amnesia, and might or might not get his memories back. Aunt Dolores had said that his memories weren't important; he was staying with them.

It didn't matter that Aunt Dolores was a cousin of his father's. They made him earn his keep. He cooked, he cleaned, and he served for the Umbridges. As much as he wanted to run away from his Aunt and cousins, he was an orphan with little to no knowledge of his history or his mother's side of the family. He had nowhere to go.

Today, he was hoping to change that.

When he had set the food on the table, Aunt Dolores turned to him and said sweetly, "Draco dearest, the girls and I trust that when we return from Gryffindor's Castle, the house is still in tip top shape, yes?"

It took a moment for Draco to process what her words meant. When he did, he blinked at his aunt incredulously and asked, "I'm going with you, Aunt?" There was a pause as he watched a sickeningly pitying smile spread on her lips. "A-aren't I"

Before the woman in front of him was finished faking a sad gasp, Draco knew what her answer would be. "Oh no, Draco dear. You didn't misunderstand what I said last week, did you?" At Draco's silence, she pouted and placed her hand on his. "Oh dear, I'm so, so sorry. We never intended to take you the festival. It was sad, really, because I was talking to Healer Figg about last week, and she said that the crowds and excitement at the festival will be bad for your mind's condition."

It was sad, really, especially with the fact that Draco had visited the healer the other day and she was more than eager to bribe Draco to bring his baked goods for her for the long journey to Hogwarts. Aunt Dolores was lying to him, but this wasn't the first time.

His cousins were giggling, but he ignored them. This was a lost cause, but he was still going to try.

"But Aunt, I think I am mentally strong enough for the festival. I promise that I won't have episodes during our stay in Hogwarts—"

"Tutut! We cannot risk your health, nephew. You know how much we care and worry about your state," she said condescendingly before taking a sip of tea. "Besides, I will only be taking the girls to the Heroes' Ball. The King will be choosing his future spouse there, didn't you know? After that, we'll be going home—"

"As a future queen, Mummy!" interrupted Marietta.

"—so you won't have to wait and be alone here for a long time," finished Aunt Dolores. She set her tea down and stood up. "Come on, girls, I have to check the clothes that you've packed. Don't want you packing that is less than what is appropriate in front of King Harrison."

She giggled, and left the room; Marietta ran after her mother, talking loudly about the beautiful dresses and latest styles they'd be able to purchase in the city.

Romilda was still finishing the last of her muffin, but Draco could tell that she was laughing at him. He was too busy trying to hold the pieces of his hope together to deal with the mockery the older girl was going to dish out at him.

"Oh, poor Draco, look at your face," she cooed, her eyes mocking as she watched him. "Don't worry. I'm gonna make sure to introduce you to the King once he's proposed to me. There should be a lot of vacant of positions for servants in the palace now that it's peace time, don't you think?"

I will keep quiet. I will keep quiet. I will keep quiet.

"Oh, stop pouting, Draco. You're gonna stay here at the house, because that's what you're good for, mental condition or no," Romilda went on. She stood up and dropped the napkin on the floor. "Please pick the napkin up and be a good housekeeper, cousin."

Once she left, Draco bent down to pick up her napkin and started cleaning the table up.

He didn't know what he or his parents had done to deserve the treatment and mockery of the Umbridges, but no matter how much Draco had put up with them in the past years, this was one time that he won't let them dictate his life. It hurt a little to listen to what they were saying, because they was true. He had nothing. No future, no past, and no connections. He sometimes had fainting episodes, which Healer Figg had explained was caused by the trauma he'd sustained when he was a child. He was considered weak and fragile, even around Hogsmeade.

That didn't mean, however, that Draco would be stopped by his own weaknesses or relatives. Pansy had told him about the opportunities for work that he could find in Hogwarts, and he was willing to take them. He had a few skills and a good head; his parents must have invested so much in his education, no matter how poor they were as farmers, according to Aunt Dolores.

He was leaving. He was going to be free.

{4}

Pansy, Draco's best friend, always had great ideas. She had Draco's confidence; she was the reason he was able to sneak out under the Umbridges' nose from time to time, after all. That was why when Draco went to her after putting away his aunt and cousins' breakfast and told her his problem, he'd expected to see the confident smirk and her signature "Leave it to me" remark.

Draco trusted her.

Now, though, being jostled at the back of a large wagon being pulled by four horses, and his skin terribly itchy from the hay around him, Draco was beginning to regret going with her plan.

"You didn't tell me your skin had an aversion to hay!" Pansy hissed at him while rolling her eyes. She was lounging comfortably on the stacks of hay, as if it were a bed.

"I didn't know I had an aversion to hay!" he hissed back, trying his hardest not to scratch his skin from his body. Rashes had started showing up in his neck, and he didn't want to aggravate his body's reactions further. Draco was really, really glad that Pansy had thought of it and had charmed Ronald Weasley so they could ride with him to Hogwarts; this mode of transport was just really, really uncomfortable.

"Oi, keep it down there, will ya? I thought you don't want the toad finding out you went with us?" Ron asked them, leaning down from beside the driver's seat to look at them. His father was driving; Draco was starting to wonder how Mr. Weasley could deliver all the milk and other goods that he sells unscathed with the driving skills that he had.

"Oh, stop it, Ronald! It's not like anyone will be able to hear Draco's whining with all the rattling and jostling going on!" Pansy scoffed then stuck her tongue out at the red-haired man.

"I'm not whining," muttered Draco under his breath, but he was ignored. He was no longer offended; whenever Pansy and Ron bickered, he became part of the background. He was used to it.

All the residents of Hogsmeade were travelling in a procession. Their village was in the Northern part of Ladon; because it was separated from Hogwarts by a vast forest, their journey would last for ten hours. They would arrive at the castle around dusk, just in time for the beginning of the festival.

Draco, rashes and itches aside, could hardly wait to see the city. He just hoped that they would heal faster so he could enjoy the whole week of celebrations. After that… After that, then, he would think about what to do next in his life.

{5}

Harry, who had become bored with the journey, had started riding his stallion, Godric, while lying on its back. It was a skill that he had perfected when he was eighteen and liked to go on rides to the mountains to get away from his responsibilities for a while. He trusted his horse not to go on a sudden gallop when he was in such a position.

He was interrupted from identifying things from the clouds' shapes by Remus who cleared his throat from beside him.

Harry hummed and looked at the man, smirking when he saw that Remus was staring at his current position disapprovingly. He didn't comment on it, though. "I've just finished talking with the captains, Your Highness. They've agreed that we could set up camp for a couple of hours for a break."

"That's alright. Have you found a suitable clearing? I'm getting hungry, too," replied Harry.

"We have, Your Majesty. There is a small meadow in the middle of the forest. Some soldiers have gone on to set up your tent."

"It wouldn't delay our arrival, am I right?"

"No, King Harrison. We'll still be able to arrive before sundown, just as planned. Also…"

Harry raised an eyebrow at Remus. The man rarely ever hesitated when he was talking to Harry. "What is it, Remus?"

"Well, some of our scouts saw a group of travellers towards Hogwarts."

"Oh?"

"Yes. There were quite a number of young children and old persons among the group, Your Highness. I wanted to ask if we can invite them to join and travel with us." Remus was eyeing him warily. Since Harry had spent most of his years as King so far in fighting in a war and regulating the security of his people from different villages, he hadn't been able to interact with the common citizens of Ladon. This was going to be a new experience for the young King.

Harry knew what Remus was thinking, more or less. Most of his experience in ruling a kingdom, so far, had involved meetings with different ambassadors or leaders from other kingdoms, in and out of the battlefield. He could count within the fingers of his hands how many times he had interacted with the more ordinary folk of his kingdom, much less the ones who live far from the capital.

Still, that didn't mean that Harry was going to snob his people if he was going to run into them in the middle of the forest. He was sure that he didn't have to make a speech or a grand gesture, so he was okay with this. Might as well practice before the festival and the ball starts.

"You didn't have to doubt my answer, Remus. Of course, I was going to say yes to that. We do have enough food, though?" Harry smiled at him.

"We have accounted, Your Highness, and it's more than enough."

"For a group of warriors and a village?" Harry teased.

"I- uh, yes, Your Highness," said Remus.

"Go on, then," the young king said, sitting up and holding on to Godric's reins properly. He rounded up the horse and shouted to his army that they were going to stop for a quick rest.

Amidst the shouts of joy (everyone was in a perpetual good mood, despite it being midday), Harry leaned to Remus and asked, "Oh, Remus, what village was this you were talking about?"

"The scouts think that they're from Hogsmeade, Your Highness. They're one of the farthest villages from Hogwarts."

{6}

They were on a break. They stopped in a meadow because, apparently, the King was also travelling their way, and had invited them to rest and eat. Of course, even if the King wasn't there (just a royal messenger) and even if there was no guarantee that they'd see the King (he had his own tent), the people in the village were in such an excitement. Hogsmeade, as far as Draco knew, felt to be heavily in-debt with the new King, who made sure that enough supplies and goods were delivered to their small village during the war.

Romilda and Marietta were leading a group of girls into re-applying powder and adding more ribbons in their hair. Sometimes, Aunt Dolores adds in a comment or two on what color of the ribbon or hairstyle would suit a particular girl.

Draco was watching all of this from the wagon, still hidden in the crates of Weasleys' goods and hay. Pansy had gone with Ron a few minutes ago; to where, Draco had no idea.

"Draco, I don't think your Aunt will see you if you left the wagon for a while," a voice chuckled behind him.

He turned in fright and saw an old woman smiling at him good naturedly. "Mrs. Weasley! You scared me!" he laughed softly.

The portly woman patted his hand fondly and pulled it towards her. Draco followed and jumped down the wagon, brushing dust and hay from the back of his pants. "Thank you, Mrs. Weasley. Do you know where Pansy and Ron went off to?"

"Oh, they helped prepare and distribute food to soldiers and the villagers. Mr. Lupin requested for some help." They started walking towards the King's tent, which was, honestly, the biggest and most lavishly stitched tent that Draco had ever seen.

"Do you think I can go to them?" he asked, still eyeing the gold and silver embroidery decorating the tent of the King. Now that he was near the King Harrison, he couldn't help but feel overwhelmed, knowing that the hero in the stories he'd heard since childhood is now near them in the flesh.

"I don't think they need more hands in there, my dear. Besides, your Aunt and her daughters are making eyes at the guards; they might see you if you join them and Pansy," Mrs. Weasley answered, still leading him behind the large tent and past it. "If you want to be useful, you can help me and Mrs. Figg pick the best of the cakes you've made for us."

"Oh, alright, Mrs. Weasley. Why?"

"To give to the King, of course!" Mrs. Figg, whom Draco didn't notice was stooped on the ground in a crate filled with baked goods, chirped at him. She flashed him her gap-toothed grin and beckoned him eagerly.

Draco found himself spluttering. "T-to give t-to the King?!" he couldn't help exclaiming. "You are a mad old lady, aren't you, dear Healer?"

Healer Figg just chuckled and patted him on the back. "Why, my boy, I could be mad, but Mrs. Weasley also agrees that it would be a shame if it wouldn't share these cakes and muffins to our King when they're so fresh and good."

"That's right, Draco. You are a good baker; everyone agrees. Also, a good artist too. Being noticed by the King will give you the opportunity to start a career in Hogwarts," Mrs. Weasley said, looking at him in the eyes kindly. "Everyone in the village believes you can make it."

"Well, the ones who matter anyway," muttered Healer Figg. "Anyway! Help me pick here, will ya?"

Draco, feeling more lightheaded and more nervous than he'd ever felt before, just stooped beside the two women and pointed his choices, without even thinking them over.

{7}

"Are they all eating now, Kingsley?" Harry asked. He was resting inside his tent, stretching his legs in a recliner. He didn't even feel hungry, just bloody tired. They still had four hours of travel before arriving in Hogwarts.

Kingsley Shacklebolt, one of the Head Captains of the guards, bowed low and answered, "Some, My King, though Duke Lupin have asked for some help from the villagers in distributing the food."

Harry just nodded and went back to the book he was reading. The moment they had invited the villagers to their stopover, Kingsley had ushered him inside his tent. The man was muttering vaguely about the need to avoid avid and too eager admirers.

The King merely shook his head in exasperation and let himself be led. He had no care for admirers, or future lovers. The ache and emptiness of losing Draco seemed to have become a background music or noise in his mind since losing the other boy. Nothing could cure it; he just knew it.

The flap of the tent was opened from the outside and Colin Creevey, one of his attendants, entered. He made a low bow, and said, "Your Majesty, there are elders from Hogsmeade who would like to express their gratitude by bringing you cakes."

Harry put down his book and looked at the still bent attendant curiously. "Cakes?"

"I assure you, Your Majesty, they're completely safe, and… and worthy of the King's tastes," the young attendant said, blushing.

Ah, so he had already tried them, Harry thought with amusement. "Well, if you say that they're really good, I would have a taste, Colin." He looked up at Kingsley. "Captain, please escort these elders inside."

{8}

"The King requests you to come inside," a tall and big soldier told them, and Draco let himself be led inside. He was already too nervous and intimidated at the prospect of meeting the King without dwelling on the large sword strapped in the man's waist, or the fact that he was only as tall as the soldier's shoulders.

Maybe this is why we won the wars, Draco thought in weak amusement.

Mrs. Weasley and Healer Figg, on the other hand, were beside themselves with excitement. They refused to let Draco help them carry the basket of cakes and told him to relax and ready himself to meet the king.

That was half an hour ago, and Draco feels so far from relaxed. He didn't even have an idea why meeting the King of Ladon felt like a very huge scare on him. None of the breathing and calming exercises that Healer Figg had taught him when he was young worked.

It didn't matter, though, because they have entered the tent, and Draco was looking at the most handsome man he had ever seen.

At the end of the tent, the King was sitting at the head of fairly large oak table, reading a book. His hair looked windswept and was as black as ink. Draco had the urge to run and arrange it through his fingers; he had a strong feeling that it wouldn't do anything. The King had a well-sculpted face, reminiscent of princes and warriors from the storybooks Draco sometimes secretly borrowed from the Umbridge's library. He was breathtaking—Draco could feel the power and authority emanating from his gait and build.

However, it was when King Harrison lifted up his head and revealed his fiery, emerald eyes that Draco realized that his King was enthralling.

It was too late when he realized that the two women with him had paid their respects and addressed the royalty in front of them. Flustered and disconcerted, Draco, of course, had to do something absolutely embarrassing.

"M-my King," he muttered, and curtsied.

He didn't know why his legs, arms, and hips did that, but still- he was a man, who perfectly curtsied like a princess in front of his king.

{A/N}

I decided to post the chapters I have with me every other day or so until this catches up with the AO3 version. Please review! They are really, really appreciated. *Offers cookies for reviews*