Look I got reviews! Yay! Thanks to my wonderful reviewers: sev's gurl(Hehe
I love that line in the movie! "Bloody Brilliant!"And thanks *blushes*)
CrystalStarGuardian(Haven't I thanked you enough? ^_^ Obviously not)
RainShadow(Sad isn't it? *Grins* I do it to torment you RS, all for you)
LanaMariah(*bows* Thank you, thank you :) ClarKeRaVen(Yay! You're reviewing
for this one too! Yes Klee ish stupid. ^_^ Sorry 'bout that, but the angst
was necessary) Gwendolyn Malfoy(^_^ Thanks! As long as you liked it, that's
all that matters.) Warui Warui Neko(Amazing you say? *blushes* Gomen
nasai!)
And the plot thickens.. *whistles innocently*
The Winter's didn't even know it was coming. Being a married couple for a good 30 years, how would they? They had had kids who had already grown up, gone to college and had families and children of their own. It just didn't seem *fair* when they spotted a small basket on their doorstep on a warm October morning.
"Wha' the hell!" Joe Winter of 123 Quaker Lane nearly jumped back in fright as he spotted the basket he had almost tread on sitting on his doorstep. There was something warm, *alive* in its depths.
His wife scuttled over to his side and adjusted her glasses as she picked it up and revealed a baby. "Bloody hell! Just what we need.. more kids." She sounded somewhat disgusted. Obviously finding a deserted baby on her doorstep was not something to jump for joy for. "He doesn't have a name," Dee Winter concluded as she shifted through the folds of the blanket, looking for a note, a letter, *something*.
"Why don't you call him Draco? I heard the old bloke died this morning, in his sleep I believe." Her husband scratched his filthy hair in thought. Both being part of the wizarding community, The Winters knew only too well who Draco Malfoy was; thanks of course to the Daily Prophet who encouragingly told the public he had *finally* died. "Dirty scoundrel. He was always around Harry Potter, you know sexual like. Or so says the Daily Prophet. But many people believe that he was the cause of Harry's downfall. Killed him, see. He di'n't love him all along. Glad he's gone now. One less evil soul in the world."
She nodded in agreement and looked at him. "So, ah, we're keeping him?"
He gave the sleeping baby boy a sketchy look. "Hell why not? We could always use another hand around the house.
Eleven years later, The Winters had more then just one pair of extra hands. They had over 20. Somehow word spread that they were creating a wizard orphanage and soon British babies were finding their way onto their doorstep.
By that time, Draco was eleven. He never knew his parents, he never got any sympathy from anyone, and he was only sheltered because he was a great help around the house. Secretly he never knew why they needed help in the first place. They were *wizards*! Why did they need him for?
The house was nice enough, well furnished and cozy. It was a shame the owners weren't as loving as the house itself.
"Get up!" a shrill voice snapped at 13 groggy boys. Dee's face appeared in the doorway of the room the boys shared. They had a cot, two changes of clothing and a book apiece.
Draco muttered inwardly. He was the eldest of the group and never talked much; but the other children always looked up to him with peculiar fascination. You just got this feeling about him, like he was powerful and strong in his own way. He didn't have to prove it to anybody; they just knew and respected him for it.
He pulled on his shirt; he slept in his jeans so he didn't have to worry about them. Pointlessly he picked up a brush and smoothed out his blonde dirty locks. He didn't even know when the last time he had taken a shower was. It was truly a shame. He had a pleasant face, complete with silver- gray eyes and his blonde hair, and a skinny although nice frame.
He made his way over to the mirror and looked in it. He couldn't remember ever seeing a smile on his face, let alone something different in his hollow eyes. He couldn't remember anything but this place, these walls and a shrill voice waking him up every morning.
I guess you couldn't really say he was depressed since that was how he lived everyday, his whole life. He didn't know what the words 'laughter' and 'happiness' meant. He had only known this.
And yet, beneath it all, he knew something was out there for him. He couldn't quite explain the feeling, but it was something similar to hope. Maybe it was the strange dreams he'd been having ever since he was little. The ones with a beautiful boy holding him tightly, or the ones with a girl looking a lot like him with a smirk, or the ones with another blonde girl sending him a goofy grin.
These dreams plagued him almost every night. He didn't know why. He could never quite place them, but they gave him hope. Maybe one day, he mused to himself, I'll meet these people. And everything will change.
Little did he know thing's were going to change anyway.
Dylan and Marie Pierce were the most prestigious people on the block. What with their huge mansion, designer clothes and important jobs how would they not be? And their son, ah, how could he not be a spoiled brat? The Pierce's were rich, rich beyond anyone's wildest dreams. Dylan, being one of the best surgeons in the world, and Marie, being one of the best lawyers in Britain, were positively swimming in money.
But Harry was, really, a work of art. Now being eleven and still as spoiled as ever, he was the envy of everyone in his school. They even bowed slightly when they bid him a good morning. Harry's ego couldn't possibly get any bigger.
He was gifted with his father's eyes, emerald like ethereal pools, and his mother's fine almost untidy black hair. He was average height and thin, but not delicately so. Oh yes, he was the secret bedroom fantasy of almost the whole female population. Or at least soon would be, since girl's that age are still screaming about cooties.
Harry Pierce had everything a person could possibly imagine. If he wanted a planet named after him, poof! Done! If he wanted to change the name of 'America' to 'Crap Country', poof! Finished! To put it mildly, he had it easy. Too easy.
That's why when he received a curious green inked envelope addressed to him (delivered by a white owl) his mother fainted.
"Mickey stop slurping and fucking finish your breakfast before I take it away!" Joe Winter grumbled to himself as he turned back to the Daily Prophet's 'Sports' section.
Draco looked down at his breakfast, if that's what they called it these days, with well-hidden disgust. It looked more like the remains of a body.
Mickey, being 8 and very immature, brought the white mushy filled spoon up to his mouth and "Sllluuuurrrrppp."
"Stop," Draco said quietly, locking eyes with the younger boy; who dropped his spoon with a clatter.
Draco sighed a little and leaned back in his chair, content at having only 3 bites to eat. He watched as a large barn owl swooped into the room and deposited two manila envelopes. Dee gave it a sickle and it gave a short grateful hoot before flying away.
She picked up the envelopes and a small smile crosses her face. "Oy Joe lookit." She showed the envelopes to him and he grunted in response.
"Here." She shoved the letters at Draco and the blonde girl sitting next to him. He talked to her sometimes, not often, but he didn't really ever talk to anyone. She was the only one closest to his age.
He gave her a quizzical sideways glance, which she returned. "D'ya know what it is?"
She shook her head. "No idea. Are they the same?"
They held up the letters next to each other, both bearing the same message in the same handwriting in the same color ink; except one was addressed to 'Draco' and the other addressed to 'Star'.
---
Dun dun dun! *Grins* Please review? Reviews are the reasons why I get up in the morning ^_~
And the plot thickens.. *whistles innocently*
The Winter's didn't even know it was coming. Being a married couple for a good 30 years, how would they? They had had kids who had already grown up, gone to college and had families and children of their own. It just didn't seem *fair* when they spotted a small basket on their doorstep on a warm October morning.
"Wha' the hell!" Joe Winter of 123 Quaker Lane nearly jumped back in fright as he spotted the basket he had almost tread on sitting on his doorstep. There was something warm, *alive* in its depths.
His wife scuttled over to his side and adjusted her glasses as she picked it up and revealed a baby. "Bloody hell! Just what we need.. more kids." She sounded somewhat disgusted. Obviously finding a deserted baby on her doorstep was not something to jump for joy for. "He doesn't have a name," Dee Winter concluded as she shifted through the folds of the blanket, looking for a note, a letter, *something*.
"Why don't you call him Draco? I heard the old bloke died this morning, in his sleep I believe." Her husband scratched his filthy hair in thought. Both being part of the wizarding community, The Winters knew only too well who Draco Malfoy was; thanks of course to the Daily Prophet who encouragingly told the public he had *finally* died. "Dirty scoundrel. He was always around Harry Potter, you know sexual like. Or so says the Daily Prophet. But many people believe that he was the cause of Harry's downfall. Killed him, see. He di'n't love him all along. Glad he's gone now. One less evil soul in the world."
She nodded in agreement and looked at him. "So, ah, we're keeping him?"
He gave the sleeping baby boy a sketchy look. "Hell why not? We could always use another hand around the house.
Eleven years later, The Winters had more then just one pair of extra hands. They had over 20. Somehow word spread that they were creating a wizard orphanage and soon British babies were finding their way onto their doorstep.
By that time, Draco was eleven. He never knew his parents, he never got any sympathy from anyone, and he was only sheltered because he was a great help around the house. Secretly he never knew why they needed help in the first place. They were *wizards*! Why did they need him for?
The house was nice enough, well furnished and cozy. It was a shame the owners weren't as loving as the house itself.
"Get up!" a shrill voice snapped at 13 groggy boys. Dee's face appeared in the doorway of the room the boys shared. They had a cot, two changes of clothing and a book apiece.
Draco muttered inwardly. He was the eldest of the group and never talked much; but the other children always looked up to him with peculiar fascination. You just got this feeling about him, like he was powerful and strong in his own way. He didn't have to prove it to anybody; they just knew and respected him for it.
He pulled on his shirt; he slept in his jeans so he didn't have to worry about them. Pointlessly he picked up a brush and smoothed out his blonde dirty locks. He didn't even know when the last time he had taken a shower was. It was truly a shame. He had a pleasant face, complete with silver- gray eyes and his blonde hair, and a skinny although nice frame.
He made his way over to the mirror and looked in it. He couldn't remember ever seeing a smile on his face, let alone something different in his hollow eyes. He couldn't remember anything but this place, these walls and a shrill voice waking him up every morning.
I guess you couldn't really say he was depressed since that was how he lived everyday, his whole life. He didn't know what the words 'laughter' and 'happiness' meant. He had only known this.
And yet, beneath it all, he knew something was out there for him. He couldn't quite explain the feeling, but it was something similar to hope. Maybe it was the strange dreams he'd been having ever since he was little. The ones with a beautiful boy holding him tightly, or the ones with a girl looking a lot like him with a smirk, or the ones with another blonde girl sending him a goofy grin.
These dreams plagued him almost every night. He didn't know why. He could never quite place them, but they gave him hope. Maybe one day, he mused to himself, I'll meet these people. And everything will change.
Little did he know thing's were going to change anyway.
Dylan and Marie Pierce were the most prestigious people on the block. What with their huge mansion, designer clothes and important jobs how would they not be? And their son, ah, how could he not be a spoiled brat? The Pierce's were rich, rich beyond anyone's wildest dreams. Dylan, being one of the best surgeons in the world, and Marie, being one of the best lawyers in Britain, were positively swimming in money.
But Harry was, really, a work of art. Now being eleven and still as spoiled as ever, he was the envy of everyone in his school. They even bowed slightly when they bid him a good morning. Harry's ego couldn't possibly get any bigger.
He was gifted with his father's eyes, emerald like ethereal pools, and his mother's fine almost untidy black hair. He was average height and thin, but not delicately so. Oh yes, he was the secret bedroom fantasy of almost the whole female population. Or at least soon would be, since girl's that age are still screaming about cooties.
Harry Pierce had everything a person could possibly imagine. If he wanted a planet named after him, poof! Done! If he wanted to change the name of 'America' to 'Crap Country', poof! Finished! To put it mildly, he had it easy. Too easy.
That's why when he received a curious green inked envelope addressed to him (delivered by a white owl) his mother fainted.
"Mickey stop slurping and fucking finish your breakfast before I take it away!" Joe Winter grumbled to himself as he turned back to the Daily Prophet's 'Sports' section.
Draco looked down at his breakfast, if that's what they called it these days, with well-hidden disgust. It looked more like the remains of a body.
Mickey, being 8 and very immature, brought the white mushy filled spoon up to his mouth and "Sllluuuurrrrppp."
"Stop," Draco said quietly, locking eyes with the younger boy; who dropped his spoon with a clatter.
Draco sighed a little and leaned back in his chair, content at having only 3 bites to eat. He watched as a large barn owl swooped into the room and deposited two manila envelopes. Dee gave it a sickle and it gave a short grateful hoot before flying away.
She picked up the envelopes and a small smile crosses her face. "Oy Joe lookit." She showed the envelopes to him and he grunted in response.
"Here." She shoved the letters at Draco and the blonde girl sitting next to him. He talked to her sometimes, not often, but he didn't really ever talk to anyone. She was the only one closest to his age.
He gave her a quizzical sideways glance, which she returned. "D'ya know what it is?"
She shook her head. "No idea. Are they the same?"
They held up the letters next to each other, both bearing the same message in the same handwriting in the same color ink; except one was addressed to 'Draco' and the other addressed to 'Star'.
---
Dun dun dun! *Grins* Please review? Reviews are the reasons why I get up in the morning ^_~
