Zenith White As Frost
By: ShinigamiForever
Warnings: AU. Lots of it. Slash. Lots of it. Oddity. Lots of that too.
Disclaimer: Ah, what I would do if I owned Harry Potter. What I would do to own Harry Potter. *wink*
A/N: This starts the strange story born of my love of "A Game of Thrones", by George R. R. Martin. I stopped reading the series after the first book because it got into dragons. I hate dragons in fantasy sagas. They spoil everything. This is basically my answer to all the fantasy sagas out there, except it has a lot of background political intrigue. And slash. So here goes.
Part the First: The Difference Between Snow and Fire
He had never seen a boy as beautiful as Draco Malfoy. He had never seen a girl as beautiful as Draco Malfoy. He gave himself at least ten lifetimes to find another human being as beautiful as Draco Malfoy. It was inhuman. It was impossible. It was ethereal. He was beautiful.
Skin as pale as moonlight on ivory. Hair silver blond like mother-of-pearl. Hair down to the top of the shoulders, curving a little, and flipping into gray eyes. Eyes like molten platinum. A body slim and willowy like a girl. Gently tapered fingers that tapped restlessly against dark wood. Black robes with a high collar and long sleeves to contradict against white skin. A forest green vest with silver embroidery. A silk white shirt underneath that. Beautiful in a way Harry had never seen before.
Like frost patterns on windows.
The Malfoy house, with the cold ice sculpture Lucius at the head and his equally glacial lady Narcissa, the lady half Veela blood. Making Draco one-fourth Veela blood too, and further adding to his charm. Harry shook his head inwardly, marveling at the entire family.
Lucius looked like his son; or rather, Draco looked like his father. The same sea gray eyes and hair that was white silver, long, but not feminine long. His face was more angled, sharp cheekbones and long frame, but he no doubt was as beautiful as Draco when he was younger. Harry could feel the raw power and magic peeling off Lucius in icy blue waves. Nothing like his wife.
Narcissa was gentler, with long golden blonde hair trailing to her waist. The sides were held up with silver and jade clips. Her eyes were a light blue that Harry had only seen in the eyes of blind prophets. But Narcissa Malfoy was not blind. Her eyes flashed in the direction she looked, regal and tall. Her lips were frosty pink, and her skin was as fair as her husband's. She held herself at a height, making herself seem taller than she actually was.
Such a contrast from my family, Harry thought.
His father was a rather disarmingly cheerful man with untamed black hair and eyes the color of the deep ocean, a bluer color than Lucius' grayish ones and more aquamarine than Narcissa's sky blue. His mouth was constantly fixed in a grin, pulling a laugh out of everyone with his casual nature. It was not unpredictable that Harry adored his father. James Potter was the paradigm of everything Harry wanted to be: polite, happy, content, proud, but not arrogant. A gentleman. A lord.
Fitting that Lily Potter was his wife. She had auburn hair, a darker red than actual red, tinged with reddish brown and light strawberry blonde streaks. Her cheeks were rosy with health, her mouth pursed in a girlish smile. She had long eyelashes that fluttered over bottomless green eyes, rich green the color of emeralds and summer grass. Harry had eyes like his mother. Even the long eyelashes.
Draco had light blond eyelashes, like his father. Sweeping long eyelashes. Because his mother had short eyelashes. Harry just now realized that.
"It is so good of you all to stop by," Narcissa said in a breathless type of voice, tinkling a bit like glass. When she smiled, Harry thought, she was pretty. In a different way from his mother, but still pretty.
"It is the least we could do, for old friends," Lily answered, gliding forward to take Narcissa in a sisterly hug. The husbands stood by awkwardly. Harry was amazed at the thought. Awkwardly. They looked uncomfortable. Lucius made a movement as if to shake hands, then pulled back. His own father looked slightly suffocated.
He had never seen his father so unsettled.
"Is this your son, Harry? I haven't seen him since you moved away fourteen years ago," Narcissa continued, sweeping over to Harry and peering at him, a little smile on her lips. "He is sixteen? Like Draco? He was two when you moved." The mentioned son turned his head away from the painting he was looking at, eyes landing on Harry instead. He felt pinned and squirmed a little, bowing before Narcissa.
"My lady," Harry murmured, feeling even more acutely uncomfortable than his father.
"And so polite!" Narcissa exclaimed happily.
"Yes, and if we would be just as polite, my lady," Lucius said laughingly, "we would invite the Potters in for tea?" Harry looked up at the lord of the Malfoy house who was currently moving away into the tea room. His father followed, beckoning Harry to follow. Narcissa and his mother were chatting away happily. Draco was up in front with his father. For a mad moment, Harry thought about just standing stock still in the hall, but gave in to the urge to follow.
***
He had dreamed, of course, of someone this beautiful. It was only a dream; he never expected it to leap out at him in all human fury. Green eyes the color of stained glass and sunlight. Skin smooth and caramel. Hair as wild as a storm, but tossed gently in midnight black. Well built, lightweight, graceful, and most endearingly out of place.
If he had known Harry Potter was that beautiful, he would have had the Potter heir locked up in his room and tied to the bedpost.
But enough of that, Draco thought as he watched Harry unsteadily lead a teacup to his lips. His own fingers played with the edges of his cup, dipping in the mint tea and back out again. The parents were in a convivial conversation, Draco was bored, and Harry looked claustrophobic. Interesting.
It was time for Draco Malfoy to come to the rescue.
"Father," he said quietly, but loud enough to intrude on the flow of the adults.
"Yes, Draco?"
"Would you mind terribly if I stole away with Harry?" His eyes twinkled mischievously, causing his father to laugh.
"I have no objections. Lily? James? Any objections? I don't believe Draco and Harry will cause too much chaos."
"Not at all," answered the raven-haired man, taking a sip of his tea. "It's about time they become friends anyway." He wasn't meeting Lucius' eyes. No, their fathers hadn't looked at each other's faces the entire time, Draco realized. He stored the fact away for later use.
Harry looked quite stunned, the teacup halfway from his mouth to the table. "But I..." and trailed off in mid-protest. Draco hopped of his perch on the armchair, catching Harry's wrist and dragging him off.
"Now Harry, you really don't want to be cooped up in this room full of adults, do you?" He tossed a grin over at his captured acquaintance who continued to sputter as he allowed himself to be pulled.
"No, but really I-"
"Well then, come on!"
The two began their journey upstairs, one following the other.
***
They entered Draco's bedroom unceremoniously, Draco still pulling Harry and banging into the door. They were both slightly breathless and laughing in between heavy gasps. Harry felt Draco's hand slowly leave his wrist and looked up to find sky gray eyes watching him.
"We're here."
Harry looked around, just now noticing the room. The walls were an offshade of green, light and crisp. The furniture was all beech wood inlaid with gold designs, the curtains dark green silk, and the bed a giant four post masterpiece. There was a wall of books, a table, chairs, and even a fireplace. Tastily furnished with little trinkets of silver, Harry was quite in awe of the taste displayed. "It's beautiful," he breathed.
"Thank you," Draco replied, offering him a seat and sitting down in the one opposite him. There was a pitcher of lemonade. "Care for a drink?"
"I-I'd love some." A carefree light laugh spilled from Draco's lips as he began pouring.
"Did you like the tea downstairs?"
"Actually, I've never had anything like it. Was it mint?"
"Mm. Yes. Mint, wintergreen, spearmint, a touch of lemon and ginger," Draco answered, eyes twinkling. "My mother is a tea fanatic."
"I take it you don't like tea as well as she does?" Harry asked, taking a sip of his lemonade. It was iced and cool, sliding wonderfully down his throat, sweet and sour all in one gulp.
"Oh, I adore tea," Draco said drolly, also taking a sip from his glass. "It's so... refreshing," he went on, waving his hand for emphasis. Harry laughed. "I don't believe we've been properly introduced," he said, tilting his head curiously.
"No," Harry said in agreement. "I don't believe so."
"Draco Malfoy," the blond young man said, sticking out a hand. Harry took it, feeling the coolness and slight dampness from the condensation. Icy and elegant, like the owner. He was slightly hesitant to let go.
"I'm-"
"Harry Potter, I know," Draco cut in. "You beat Tom Riddle in that one sword match last week."
"Oh gods," Harry replied, embarrassed and taking a sip of lemonade to hide it. "I didn't know news traveled that quickly."
"Believe me, Harry," Draco said, shaking his head. "Any news about the Riddle house travels quickly. Especially when they are the ones defeated."
"It was only a friendly match," Harry protested.
"But you still beat him!" He couldn't tell whether it was awe or amusement that was in Draco's voice. Maybe a little bit of both. "You practically grew up with him, didn't you?"
"I suppose I did. We moved to the Riddle territory when I was two, so yes, I've been with Tom Riddle since I was very young. We're almost like brothers."
"You are very lucky, Harry Potter." He shrugged, trying to avoid eye contact with Draco. This conversation was making him uncomfortable. Any conversation talking about himself made him nervous.
"I suppose I am."
There was a long pause before Draco suddenly asked, "What is your favorite color?"
"Color?" Harry asked, flustered. "Well, I like red and gold; that's obvious, because those are our insignia colors. I do like blue, and green is pretty, and I suppose purple is a very regal color. I can't say. I like all colors," he ended in a laugh.
"You are not a very opinionated person, are you, Harry?" Draco said in a thoughtful voice, making the question sound softer.
"Not as opinionated as I should be. What about you, Draco? Are you opinionated?"
"Very much so," he answered wryly, drinking from his glass. "My mother says I am as stubborn to the point of blindness."
"What does that mean?" Harry asked, confused.
"It means," Draco said, smiling, "that I am so stubborn that I refuse to see things any other way."
"Ah," Harry murmured. "I see."
They sat in companionable silence for a while before Draco spoke up again, not looking at Harry as he spoke. "We are going to be good friends, are we not, Harry Potter?"
He was stunned for a moment, not sure how to answer, but he had to answer somehow. "Of course we will," he assured Draco, smiling.
Looking at Draco's averted face, he felt a flash of understanding. But for the life of him, he could not understand what he had come to understand. And when he was close to grasping the concept, it had already slipped away.
They whiled away the rest of the day in lazy happiness. Before the sun had descended, they had become inseparable.
[-end part the first-]
A/N: So? Whaddya think? Strange? Horrible? Stupid? Inanely ridiculous? Not too bad? Readable? Drop me a line and tell me what you thought of it!
By: ShinigamiForever
Warnings: AU. Lots of it. Slash. Lots of it. Oddity. Lots of that too.
Disclaimer: Ah, what I would do if I owned Harry Potter. What I would do to own Harry Potter. *wink*
A/N: This starts the strange story born of my love of "A Game of Thrones", by George R. R. Martin. I stopped reading the series after the first book because it got into dragons. I hate dragons in fantasy sagas. They spoil everything. This is basically my answer to all the fantasy sagas out there, except it has a lot of background political intrigue. And slash. So here goes.
Part the First: The Difference Between Snow and Fire
He had never seen a boy as beautiful as Draco Malfoy. He had never seen a girl as beautiful as Draco Malfoy. He gave himself at least ten lifetimes to find another human being as beautiful as Draco Malfoy. It was inhuman. It was impossible. It was ethereal. He was beautiful.
Skin as pale as moonlight on ivory. Hair silver blond like mother-of-pearl. Hair down to the top of the shoulders, curving a little, and flipping into gray eyes. Eyes like molten platinum. A body slim and willowy like a girl. Gently tapered fingers that tapped restlessly against dark wood. Black robes with a high collar and long sleeves to contradict against white skin. A forest green vest with silver embroidery. A silk white shirt underneath that. Beautiful in a way Harry had never seen before.
Like frost patterns on windows.
The Malfoy house, with the cold ice sculpture Lucius at the head and his equally glacial lady Narcissa, the lady half Veela blood. Making Draco one-fourth Veela blood too, and further adding to his charm. Harry shook his head inwardly, marveling at the entire family.
Lucius looked like his son; or rather, Draco looked like his father. The same sea gray eyes and hair that was white silver, long, but not feminine long. His face was more angled, sharp cheekbones and long frame, but he no doubt was as beautiful as Draco when he was younger. Harry could feel the raw power and magic peeling off Lucius in icy blue waves. Nothing like his wife.
Narcissa was gentler, with long golden blonde hair trailing to her waist. The sides were held up with silver and jade clips. Her eyes were a light blue that Harry had only seen in the eyes of blind prophets. But Narcissa Malfoy was not blind. Her eyes flashed in the direction she looked, regal and tall. Her lips were frosty pink, and her skin was as fair as her husband's. She held herself at a height, making herself seem taller than she actually was.
Such a contrast from my family, Harry thought.
His father was a rather disarmingly cheerful man with untamed black hair and eyes the color of the deep ocean, a bluer color than Lucius' grayish ones and more aquamarine than Narcissa's sky blue. His mouth was constantly fixed in a grin, pulling a laugh out of everyone with his casual nature. It was not unpredictable that Harry adored his father. James Potter was the paradigm of everything Harry wanted to be: polite, happy, content, proud, but not arrogant. A gentleman. A lord.
Fitting that Lily Potter was his wife. She had auburn hair, a darker red than actual red, tinged with reddish brown and light strawberry blonde streaks. Her cheeks were rosy with health, her mouth pursed in a girlish smile. She had long eyelashes that fluttered over bottomless green eyes, rich green the color of emeralds and summer grass. Harry had eyes like his mother. Even the long eyelashes.
Draco had light blond eyelashes, like his father. Sweeping long eyelashes. Because his mother had short eyelashes. Harry just now realized that.
"It is so good of you all to stop by," Narcissa said in a breathless type of voice, tinkling a bit like glass. When she smiled, Harry thought, she was pretty. In a different way from his mother, but still pretty.
"It is the least we could do, for old friends," Lily answered, gliding forward to take Narcissa in a sisterly hug. The husbands stood by awkwardly. Harry was amazed at the thought. Awkwardly. They looked uncomfortable. Lucius made a movement as if to shake hands, then pulled back. His own father looked slightly suffocated.
He had never seen his father so unsettled.
"Is this your son, Harry? I haven't seen him since you moved away fourteen years ago," Narcissa continued, sweeping over to Harry and peering at him, a little smile on her lips. "He is sixteen? Like Draco? He was two when you moved." The mentioned son turned his head away from the painting he was looking at, eyes landing on Harry instead. He felt pinned and squirmed a little, bowing before Narcissa.
"My lady," Harry murmured, feeling even more acutely uncomfortable than his father.
"And so polite!" Narcissa exclaimed happily.
"Yes, and if we would be just as polite, my lady," Lucius said laughingly, "we would invite the Potters in for tea?" Harry looked up at the lord of the Malfoy house who was currently moving away into the tea room. His father followed, beckoning Harry to follow. Narcissa and his mother were chatting away happily. Draco was up in front with his father. For a mad moment, Harry thought about just standing stock still in the hall, but gave in to the urge to follow.
***
He had dreamed, of course, of someone this beautiful. It was only a dream; he never expected it to leap out at him in all human fury. Green eyes the color of stained glass and sunlight. Skin smooth and caramel. Hair as wild as a storm, but tossed gently in midnight black. Well built, lightweight, graceful, and most endearingly out of place.
If he had known Harry Potter was that beautiful, he would have had the Potter heir locked up in his room and tied to the bedpost.
But enough of that, Draco thought as he watched Harry unsteadily lead a teacup to his lips. His own fingers played with the edges of his cup, dipping in the mint tea and back out again. The parents were in a convivial conversation, Draco was bored, and Harry looked claustrophobic. Interesting.
It was time for Draco Malfoy to come to the rescue.
"Father," he said quietly, but loud enough to intrude on the flow of the adults.
"Yes, Draco?"
"Would you mind terribly if I stole away with Harry?" His eyes twinkled mischievously, causing his father to laugh.
"I have no objections. Lily? James? Any objections? I don't believe Draco and Harry will cause too much chaos."
"Not at all," answered the raven-haired man, taking a sip of his tea. "It's about time they become friends anyway." He wasn't meeting Lucius' eyes. No, their fathers hadn't looked at each other's faces the entire time, Draco realized. He stored the fact away for later use.
Harry looked quite stunned, the teacup halfway from his mouth to the table. "But I..." and trailed off in mid-protest. Draco hopped of his perch on the armchair, catching Harry's wrist and dragging him off.
"Now Harry, you really don't want to be cooped up in this room full of adults, do you?" He tossed a grin over at his captured acquaintance who continued to sputter as he allowed himself to be pulled.
"No, but really I-"
"Well then, come on!"
The two began their journey upstairs, one following the other.
***
They entered Draco's bedroom unceremoniously, Draco still pulling Harry and banging into the door. They were both slightly breathless and laughing in between heavy gasps. Harry felt Draco's hand slowly leave his wrist and looked up to find sky gray eyes watching him.
"We're here."
Harry looked around, just now noticing the room. The walls were an offshade of green, light and crisp. The furniture was all beech wood inlaid with gold designs, the curtains dark green silk, and the bed a giant four post masterpiece. There was a wall of books, a table, chairs, and even a fireplace. Tastily furnished with little trinkets of silver, Harry was quite in awe of the taste displayed. "It's beautiful," he breathed.
"Thank you," Draco replied, offering him a seat and sitting down in the one opposite him. There was a pitcher of lemonade. "Care for a drink?"
"I-I'd love some." A carefree light laugh spilled from Draco's lips as he began pouring.
"Did you like the tea downstairs?"
"Actually, I've never had anything like it. Was it mint?"
"Mm. Yes. Mint, wintergreen, spearmint, a touch of lemon and ginger," Draco answered, eyes twinkling. "My mother is a tea fanatic."
"I take it you don't like tea as well as she does?" Harry asked, taking a sip of his lemonade. It was iced and cool, sliding wonderfully down his throat, sweet and sour all in one gulp.
"Oh, I adore tea," Draco said drolly, also taking a sip from his glass. "It's so... refreshing," he went on, waving his hand for emphasis. Harry laughed. "I don't believe we've been properly introduced," he said, tilting his head curiously.
"No," Harry said in agreement. "I don't believe so."
"Draco Malfoy," the blond young man said, sticking out a hand. Harry took it, feeling the coolness and slight dampness from the condensation. Icy and elegant, like the owner. He was slightly hesitant to let go.
"I'm-"
"Harry Potter, I know," Draco cut in. "You beat Tom Riddle in that one sword match last week."
"Oh gods," Harry replied, embarrassed and taking a sip of lemonade to hide it. "I didn't know news traveled that quickly."
"Believe me, Harry," Draco said, shaking his head. "Any news about the Riddle house travels quickly. Especially when they are the ones defeated."
"It was only a friendly match," Harry protested.
"But you still beat him!" He couldn't tell whether it was awe or amusement that was in Draco's voice. Maybe a little bit of both. "You practically grew up with him, didn't you?"
"I suppose I did. We moved to the Riddle territory when I was two, so yes, I've been with Tom Riddle since I was very young. We're almost like brothers."
"You are very lucky, Harry Potter." He shrugged, trying to avoid eye contact with Draco. This conversation was making him uncomfortable. Any conversation talking about himself made him nervous.
"I suppose I am."
There was a long pause before Draco suddenly asked, "What is your favorite color?"
"Color?" Harry asked, flustered. "Well, I like red and gold; that's obvious, because those are our insignia colors. I do like blue, and green is pretty, and I suppose purple is a very regal color. I can't say. I like all colors," he ended in a laugh.
"You are not a very opinionated person, are you, Harry?" Draco said in a thoughtful voice, making the question sound softer.
"Not as opinionated as I should be. What about you, Draco? Are you opinionated?"
"Very much so," he answered wryly, drinking from his glass. "My mother says I am as stubborn to the point of blindness."
"What does that mean?" Harry asked, confused.
"It means," Draco said, smiling, "that I am so stubborn that I refuse to see things any other way."
"Ah," Harry murmured. "I see."
They sat in companionable silence for a while before Draco spoke up again, not looking at Harry as he spoke. "We are going to be good friends, are we not, Harry Potter?"
He was stunned for a moment, not sure how to answer, but he had to answer somehow. "Of course we will," he assured Draco, smiling.
Looking at Draco's averted face, he felt a flash of understanding. But for the life of him, he could not understand what he had come to understand. And when he was close to grasping the concept, it had already slipped away.
They whiled away the rest of the day in lazy happiness. Before the sun had descended, they had become inseparable.
[-end part the first-]
A/N: So? Whaddya think? Strange? Horrible? Stupid? Inanely ridiculous? Not too bad? Readable? Drop me a line and tell me what you thought of it!