Title: Star Stealing

summary: Ones the son of an aristocrat, the other an orphan. Can there be a love when the entire world says its impossible? AU. Harry/Draco

disclaimers: dont own it

warnings: boy x boy love

notes: I suppose it would be smart to give you a run down of what the characters are. Lucius (King of England) Draco (Prince of England) Narcissa (Queen of England) Voldemort (King of Scotland , now just Tom lol, harbors a huge hate for Harry *cough*) Severus (Lucius's advisor) Sirius (a fugitive from France, thought to have murdered a bunch of peasants, including James and Lily) Remus (a teacher educated in Japan though not japanese who runs the orphanage that Harry lives in, has a big secret) Hermione, Neville, Blaise, Hannah, Lavendar, Dean, Justin, and Seamus(orphans) Ron (basically has a ton of freedom, being the youngest of the family there is no Ginny and befriends Harry) Fred and George, Bill and Charlie (Ron's brothers who are soldiers in Lucius' army) Percy (tutor to Draco) Molly (despite being poor, the Weasley family is part of the aristocracy. She is attendant to Narcissa) Arthur (one of Lucius' inner circle) Pansy (a princess from Italy, to be betrothed to Draco) Oliver (creates a game like Quidditch except on horseback and doesnt fly. lol) Marcus (Tom's son. Evil git.) Cedric (his father, Amos, is the leader of the soldiers and Cedric is forced to fight too. Wants Oliver. ^_^)

Okay, thats all. The other characters may make a brief appearance. Like Albus, Minerva, etc. But these are the main and kind of main people. Oh, Harry and Draco are both 14. ^-^

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Chapter 1

Harry flipped through the pages of a worn book, the ink smudged from years of toll and age. His fingers darted almost lovingly across the manuscript, a content smile curling his lips. He wished, that just once, he could visit the library in London. He would appreciate the ledgers unlike the enlightened in the city who probably never even knew that they were truly blessed with that much knowledge, just waiting to be read. Harry gently closed the book, the dust on the table next to him swirling into the dank air. The dim candle barely gave enough light to read by. With a sigh, Harry trudged from the room and into the corridor. The suns rays streamed through the windows lining the hall, a halo of sorts forming a ring on the touseled ebony locks. Harry's emerald orbs glinted with gold as he stepped through the warmth.

He could faintly hear the raucous laughter of his friends outside and the sibilant voice of their guardian berating them gently. Harry descended the riggedy staircase to the living area; toys and a few books strewn on the sparse furniture. The window panes were opened, allowing the cool breeze to filter through the orphanage. The summer days were waning and fall would soon come in a matter of a month. The leaves on the trees were already turning their respected shades. The valley was splashed with reds, oranges, and yellows with dark greens of the evergreens mixed in to provide a vary of assorted foliage to appreciate.

At fourteen, Harry was the oldest of the nine children, only beating Hermione by a week. Unlike the others, he had surpassed them in maturity. His parents were murdered during a revolt in France and he was sent to live with his relatives in Spain. Unfortunately for him, they too were killed only a few years after they had recieved him into their home. It was then, the Catholic Church had provided him with shelter. When he was eleven, a young man with soleful amber pools of honey and chesnut brown hair that was prematurely greying came and whisked him away. Three years later, he was happy and protected.

He was greeted with cheerful salutations. He sank onto the grass, fingers fondling the blades. The aroma of delicious wildflowers filled his nostrils. Harry loved it here. It was so tranquil; not another soul trespassed upon the soil. They weren't far from the palace where the royal palace subsided; they were on the outskirts of the city. Harry had often dreamed of going to London, especially when they had fesitvals but he knew it wasn't safe. Remus had warned him that those who had killed his parents and kin would undoubtley come for him. One time, Harry and the Irish boy Seamus had watched a battalion of soliders travel through the valley. The entire time, Harry couldn't help but wish it were him returning to the palace. The soliders looked so regal in their chain mail and helmets. Often, merchants would use the path running along the edges of the orphanage. Harry would sit on the cliff and watch. Although the road wasn't the main one to reach the castle, it was used enough that the earth was beaten from heavy footfalls and horses hooves.

There was a certain tree that could be climbed easily. If one perched from the topmost bough, the beauitful city of dreams, London, came into sight. The banners and festival lights, the flags that waved in the wind, the soliders patrolling, the aristocracy in their elegant dress, the music, the laughter. It would always float upon the air currents and have Harry yearning to mingle with the crowd, if just for a moment.

"Harry, its time for dinner." Harry snapped from his reverie to meet his guardian's kind gaze. Harry nodded, following Remus into the building. It would be dusk soon. The sun was already starting to dip below the mountains. Harry loved the night. It was a time when his dreams did come true.

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"Draco, you must pay attention to your studies," King Lucius accosted his son verbally, cold eyes narrowed in a reproachful glare. "The Prince of England must not be so lazy that he cannot complete one assigned lesson. If you want to procrastinate and dwaddle, then you are not fit to rule a kingdom. Get out of my sight," Lucius's voice had dropped to a whisper and to those who knew him best; it was a sign to leave him alone because he was about to burst.

Draco nodded, bowing slightly and spun on his heel. Platinum blonde hair, associated with all of the royal family, was tied loosely. Striking silver jems glittered with anger as he rounded the corner and bolted for his chambers. The velvet hunter green robes emblazened with the family crest of a snake billowed around his lithe and lean body like a cloud. How dare his father yell at him! And in front of the council members no less! Damn that Weasley! He slammed the doors shut, the frame shuddering from the force. He snarled at one of his maids, the woman hastily exiting.

He was the prince of England! Noone was allowed to ~make~ him do anything! Especially not some poor tutor! Draco sighed, losing his ire. The bath was already filled with water so he sunk inside. The bubbles added a soothing stress relief. The perfume of the rose petals permeated his senses. Just because he didn't do his homework on researching the werewolves, he was yelled at by his father. Being a prince wasn't all that people made it out to be. He was rich, yes but that was it. Death threats were constantly being made for his life. The studying that any normal boy didn't have to go through. The politics were enough to give him headaches. To top it all, he wanted a friend.

The door creaked open to his private bath. "Severus, is there something I must attend to?" The dark haired man with the always glowwering onyx eyes and the hook nose stepped inside. Draco lethargically raised his eyes to meet the king's advisorer's. "Because if not, I would like to enjoy my bath in peace."

"Lucius feels terrible for berating you in front of the board. How would you like to attend the festival tomorrow night?"

"Oh I'm sure Father feels horrible. Mother must've convinced him. Will I be able to go on my own?"

"I'm afraid not, my prince. The son of the Master Guard will be taking you. Now that thats settled, I shall leave you to your bath. Goodnight Prince Draco."

"Night Severus." The son of the Master Guard....Cedric, was his name he believed. Draco scrubbed his slender body. Only two years older than himself. He hadn't talked to Cedric before but it was common knowledge that the boy was handsome. Of course, not nearly as handsome as Draco. Noone was. Draco dried and dressed into a pair of unfitting breeches. He crawled into bed, stretching his limbs lazily and curling into the blankets. The moon shone into his window on the highest floor and for just that split second, Draco was free.

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