A Boy and a Boy


Summer seasons in London was wholly unpredictable. It could get a bleary week of continuous rain, or just as likely, a week of glorious sunshine. Unreliable weather aside, a good summer's day in the city was hard to beat.

Undoubtedly that very first day of August was one of the most notably glorious ones. Passers-by roamed the streets, comfortably clad in lightweight summer outfits. On one street however, there appeared to be a most peculiar sight, not one or two but in great numbers it seemed, a large group of seemingly ordinary looking folks, men, women and children were seen hurrying by.

It was the adults' weather defying outfits that was rousing many incredulous stares. They were clothed in long cloaks and high boots of varying earthly colours, mostly black, without breaking into buckets of sweat under the glaring afternoon sun.

Yet, the same bewildered onlookers didn't even bat an eyelid when the crowd streamed into a narrow lane right in between a big bookshop and a record store and... utterly vanished. It was as if an unseen veil had been drawn to partition away all their irrational thoughts and their eyes were told to just forget the illogical sight.

Even though one man who would no doubt make a lasting impression on anyone because he was so huge and a small boy with untidy black hair and green eyes so brilliant one could detect the orbs even in the dark, were among the participants in the odd parade.

Apparently the city dwellers never knew about the existence of a hidden parallel world lurking in their own midst.

"Hagrid," the green eyed boy murmured, tugging his companion at the sleeve after a brief contemplative glance around the dingy tavern they just entered. "This doesn't look like wizards' land at all."

The tall, bearded man stalled, peering down at the small boy who seemed to be sprouting a fidgeting fit. A grin spread wide across his weather beaten face when the boy went blink-blink ala owl back.

"Harry, my boy," Hagrid smiled, prodding him onward. "We need to go through round the back to get there, hurry now, loads of stuff to get for yer... Spell books, wand, you need new shoes, boy... ahh yeah, robes, at least three..."

A look of pure dismay fell into Harry's expression.

"But Hagrid," Harry interrupted in a small, wretched voice. He may as well bid farewell to the glorious world of wizards now. He didn't even have a piggy bank named after him what more to splurge on books, robes, wands and what-nots. "I haven't got any money on me..."

"Of course yer have," Hagrid exclaimed. "Yer Harry Potter and everyone knows the Potters were and still are very loaded!"

Heads turned and a loud, excited murmur broke out. The pub's patrons whom had earlier paid no heed to their presence were now staring at them interestedly. Harry turned red, he may be young if not ignorant but he certainly knew for certain, thanks to his horrid Uncle Vernon, wealthy people were always regarded with a hefty dose of respect by the money hungry world. Imagine their disappointment if they were to find out he was anything but rich.

With that in mind Harry quickly dug both hands into the empty pockets of his baggy jeans, hands-down from his cousin, Dudley, and pulled the hems out to prove that he was indeed a very distinguished pauper.

Hagrid blinked, mumbling out, "right, course yer have no clue..." then tilted his large head back and roared as though tickled by an invisible feather duster. To Harry's growing alarm, the people who had been staring at them were now elbowing each other to get to the two of them.

"Is this..." The first man to reach them gushed, a wizard, of course the man with the funny grey hat was a wizard, Harry thought and then gasped when the thin middle aged wizard made a low sweeping bow at him before straightening up to stare hard at his forehead. "Is this...my sweet, sweet Merlin, it really is Harry Potter!"

Before Harry could even breathe out another gasp, he became the target of hugs and hair ruffling and severe cheek pinching, trying not to squirm when the ladies cooed he was a quaint piece of finery, whatever that meant, as he sent dire looks at Hagrid to rescue him.

"Give the boy space," Hagrid ordered, adopting a most important voice, swatting away the hands from mauling Harry's small frame. "Come on now, folks, Harry needs to do some shoppin'…"

"Let me give him a head-start then..." an old, wrinkled witch winked and promptly stole a light tap on Harry's scotch-taped glasses with a small stick, a wand, a real wand, Harry realised with no little amount of awe.

Lo-behold, to his amazement, the scratchy tape disappeared and his glasses fitted as good as new, sitting comfortably on the bridge of his nose. "I promise you it will never be broken for as long as you live, Harry Potter," she grinned, displaying more gums than teeth. "Merlin, forgive me for saying this but you are such a dainty little thing to pass for a boy."

Harry grinned his thanks at the toothless witch, magnanimously forgiving her parting remark. All his life, no one ever spared him much of a glance what more made a fuss over him. He had been here barely half an hour and already it felt like...

"Welcome home, Harry Potter!" Someone hailed. "Come, Hagrid, pour the legendary boy some Butterbeer for a toast!"

"Here! Here!"

Yes, yes, here, here, he was home, inner Harry sang as he sipped the odd concoction, gleefully entertaining the thought of his Aunt Petunia fainting spectacularly away if she was here right now to witness him having a pint, beamed when the golden liquid didn't sit a bitter taste in his tongue like Dudley bragged a beer would. The Butterbeer tasted more like cream, only creamier, not to mention heavenly delicious and smoother.

"Alright, Harry?" Hagrid asked after three Butterbeers later when they were finally free to proceed to the backyard. "Yer looking happy."

"Never better, Hagrid," Harry beamed.


~DH~


"Father, you just ignored the broom store!" A tall boy was heard wining incessantly, harassing a grandly dressed middle-aged man walking next to him. "I want a broom! You promised!"

Lucius Malfoy frowned, ushering the tall blond haired boy through the throngs of people who were crowding the street in Diagon Alley. "Draco, how many times do I have to let you know that Malfoys do not whine," he said sternly, grey eyes narrowing at his only son. "This is all your mother's doing, spoiling you senseless."

Draco huffed, biting his lower lip hard. Malfoys don't do this, Malfoys must not be like that, Malfoys probably need a written permission to even fart, he scoffed and then brightened.

"Father," he said gravely, opting for a different tactic altogether. "A Malfoy must always honour his promise, yes?" Careful to keep his grey eyes sombre through lowered lashes, he went on in earnest. "You said that many times, it's the number one trait of a..." he faltered when Lucius slanted him another frown but the lure to own a broom was deemed important above all else for any eleven year old wizarding boy. "...of a true Malfoy."

"Oh, Lucius," an amused voice broke in. "I'm sure getting Draco a broom won't even dent those gold sitting uselessly in our vault."

Lucius turned reproaching eyes at the newcomer, a woman, elegantly groomed from the tip of her blonde hair to the soles of her high heeled black suede boots. His thin lips curved with resigned annoyance when he noticed the numerous packages in her grasp.

Draco whooped, quietly though. His dear mother would see to his needs as always. This was a battle in which he would triumph for sure.

"Narcissa," Lucius started, eyes rolling when she quickly handed him one of the packages. "For the last time, stop intervening, Draco has to learn that not everything will come his way at the snap of his crafty fingers."

Unperturbed, Narcissa merely sent her annoyed husband a fleeting smile as the three of them combed the street at a more leisurely pace. "Oh just get him a broom Lucius, " she intoned with a wistful sigh. "Hogwarts will never allow any first year to bring a broom in anyway, let our son thrill himself this few weeks, we can all go flying together, after all, we won't be seeing him for many months afterwards."

Lucius looked about to scratch his scalp and then probably thought better of it. Draco knew why, a Malfoy should never, ever scratch his head in full view of the general public.

"Fine, but I get to choose one for him."

Draco smirked.

"Draco, go wipe that smirk off your face and run to Madam Malkin's for your fitting," Narcissa admonished, slanting her son a sly upturn of her glossed lips when her husband's eyes wavered back to the broom store. "We'll join you later."

"Don't go mingling with those unseemly Muggles," Lucius warned when a family of three, clad in denims and smart looking coats sauntered past. His proud mouth twisted with disgust, marring his otherwise handsome profile by degrees when the young girl with bushy brown hair was heard jabbering away with excitement. "Those fools, they don't deserve to be here."

"Yes, Father," Draco nodded, not understanding the grave fuss about Muggles but if his father had demanded so, then it must be obeyed at once. "I'll stay away."

"Don't dawdle," Narcissa swatted his bottom. "Go now."

"Mother!" Draco protested, looking left and right, thinking it was a good thing no one saw that. "Stop that already, please..."

Narcissa laughed as she watched her young Draco stomp away.


~DH~


"Go on now," Hagrid urged encouragingly upon seeing Harry hesitate at the entrance of Madam Malkin's. "I'll be right outside, I'd take too much space inside."

Harry nodded, ignoring the sinking pull at the pit of his stomach, a sensation which never failed to be triggered whenever he was in his vulnerable state. Such as right now. No doubt he was excited to be here but still this was a wholly different light of experience altogether.

Taking a deep breath, Harry stepped in and instantly the sinking was gone with the pleasant afternoon breeze. Never before had he seen such a cheerful array of clothes, or robes as they were commonly called. In all colours too, he marvelled as he strode with renewed confidence.

It was a good thing Hagrid insisted on a very quick lunch, Harry reflected fondly, now that it was lunchtime, there weren't that many customers in line. He saw a plump pleasant faced lady behind the counter. Harry immediately guessed she was the owner, she had that air of ownership to the grand robe store, he mused.

"Thank you, come again!"

Harry breathed, relieved. Now that the large family had just sailed out, the store was welcomingly deserted.

"Well, hello there!" Madam Malkin chirped with a warm, motherly beam. "Here for your school robes?"

Harry nodded shyly, still not used to the way strangers were being friendly with him. Eager to be gracious, he didn't waste any time when she handed him a black robe from a nearby rack and headed straight toward a mirror covered wall a few feet behind the counter. He smartly figured two large dressing rooms laid behind it. There were lines within the perimeters of the mirror made to shape like doors and of course no one could have missed the cartoon-like faces of a boy and a girl plastered on the glass.

How to get inside, Harry pondered and was about to open his mouth to ask Madam Malkin when he spotted a gilded knob, almost invisible because it seemed to blend seamlessly with the spotless glass doors.

Feeling ridiculously pleased with himself, Harry turned the one with the boy sign and pulled. The door remained gloriously firm. He tried sliding it but still it remained stuck.

"Huh?"

"Just give the knob a light tap, it'll slide itself open, my dear!" An amused Madam Malkin who had been silently chortling at Harry's fascination with her doors called out helpfully. "No worries, you're not the first one."

Muttering his thanks with a heavy blush pinking his cheeks, Harry did just that and stepped inside with as much grace he could muster.

"Excuse me, this is for boys only!"

Startled, the robe almost slipped from Harry's fingers. A boy was heading his way from the end of the mirrored clad narrow room, glaring threateningly at him. The inbuilt defensive urge to flee came by, the strongly reminded him of his cousin Dudley.

No way, Harry thought resolutely, he should start standing up for himself, he would not back down, everyone knew his parents were brave, and he would do no less even though the pale looking tall stranger was practically snorting fire at him.

"I am a boy," Harry bit out steely with a sharp jerk-up of his chin just so that the taller boy could take a good look at his face. "Everyone could see that."

It was a downright white-lie, Harry knew that with a rueful pang by now but of course the glowering blond didn't need the details of him looking less than a boy.

"Huh..." the boy gaped and then quickly shut his mouth and then smirked, saying "Oh, my mistake, sorry, Hogwarts?" the boy continued conversationally.

Harry nodded with a half-formed smile, forgive and forget would be best. Furthermore he hadn't talked to anyone nearing his age yet and he really didn't want to be rude even though the boy was still staring at him like a hawk preying on a helpless mouse. Quietly Harry slipped into his thick black robes, not even bothering to shed his baggy jersey off him first, hit by a sudden bout of self consciousness to display his bony torso with the boy still ogling at him.

"Which house you think you'll be sorted into?" The boy prompted when their gaze crossed in the mirror. "I'll be in Slytherin for sure."

"What house?" Harry said eagerly, anxious to know more about the wonderful world of Hogwarts. "Tell me more, please, it sounds most interesting."

Next to him, the boy turned rigid and Harry realised too late he had just let loose something horrendously not right.

"You're not from around here are you?" the boy asked, turning to face him fully. "You're a Muggle aren't you?"

Taken aback by the boy's sudden switch of mood, Harry blinked. Now what in the world was a Muggle, he fretted. Whatever it was, he certainly didn't like the boy's contemptuous tone.

"I knew it!" the boy sneered when no response came out from Harry. "You're not one of us, your blood is not pure like us..."

Harry knew at once what Muggle meant and he felt an instant dislike for the pale boy. He now thought the boy bore a strong resemblance to Dudley's friend, that horrible Jonathan Piers who was always pressuring his cousin to turn Harry into a live punching bag.

"My parents were Wizards," Harry inserted loudly, interrupting the boy's rant of pureblood supreme. "So that makes me no less of a wizard too."

"You said were, so that makes you an orphan then," the pale boy returned in a muted voice, now eyeing Harry with an expression that was neither hostile nor friendly. "So what's your name, ugly princess?"

"For the last time, I'm a boy!" Harry hissed shrilly, finally losing it. "And just so you know, I am NOT ugly and even if I am, I don't care what you think, you arrogant..."

His tirade trailed off when the boy's pale grey eyes flashed mischievously upon seeing him flustered and bothered.

"The name is Draco Malfoy if you please," the boy drawled with a smirk.

Harry scratched his non-itchy kinky head, dizzied by the boy's abrupt shift of mood again. One moment the boy was highly intimidating, then warm, then downright mean, then went out flat and then now downright playful. Honestly, Harry didn't know whether he liked this Draco boy or not. At least Dudley was downright nasty but Draco was like a walking time-bomb, ready to explode any time.

"At least tell me your name," Draco coaxed with a most angelic upturn of his pink mouth that Harry could practically see a shining halo floating above his shiny blond head. "S'matter, cat got your tongue?"

Harry sighed helplessly. For now it was probably best to remain tolerant until further mood changes. Maybe Pureblood wizards have weird temperamental issues, or maybe it was because Muggles had been mean to them in past lifetimes? Just look at his Aunt Petunia, she was extremely mean to him just because he was different, Harry reasoned forgivingly.

"Harry Potter."

Draco's jaw dropped a mile, clamped it shut when Harry snorted and then his mouth opened again. "You're the Boy-Who-Lived..."

This was obviously new to Harry.

"I'm sorry? What do you mean by..." Harry froze when Draco suddenly invaded his standing space and briefly made to swipe his messy fringe away from his forehead in order to have a close up look at his scar.

"Draco! Aren't you done yet?"

A sudden rap on the door made them both jump.

"Coming, Mother!" Draco called back and then turned Harry a strange look. "Your father was definitely a Pureblood like us but your mother wasn't... so that makes you a half-blood and..." the blond shook his head as if to clear away his disjointed thoughts before spitting out a venomous hiss. "I'm not sure if I like you after all."

Harry's resentment for the temperamental Draco promptly restored. "That's fine, maybe I don't like you either."

"Come along, Draco."

The second calling came in the voice of a man and even though the man didn't shout or anything, it drew Harry's stomach to curdle because the tone was stone cold, quite unlike his Uncle Vernon's but the rendered effect was the same if not worse. There was a hint of real cruelness in the tone which suggested Draco would be in for it if he didn't obey at once.

"Yes, Father."

Harry almost felt sorry for the blond, that was until Draco tossed him an accusing scowl as if it was all Harry's fault he had hit a bookmark in his father's black book, before striding away hurriedly, leaving an equally flustered looking Harry behind.

~TBC~