"Get up, Boy", muttered the disgusted voice of Vernon Dursley. Little Harry
trembled, knowing very well the worst was yet to come. It had just been an
accident, he never meant to make Dudley's glass horse break.
Vernon pulled out his belt, the metal buckle glistening in the hot rays of
the summer sun.
I deserve this, he finally decided. I'm wicked, I don't want them to be
stuck with me, why am I here?
Vernon continually smacked his nephew with this belt, never caring for the intense pain it would have caused for such a young boy. Only stopping once Harry had fallen once more, battered and bruised. Neither crying nor angry, only the look of despair, as if his life had and never would mean anything, Harry lay there to sleep.
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When Harry woke it looked to be the early morning. He looked up to see a face peering down at him. It was a boy, probably around his age; he looked around the same height as well, his hair and skin colour toned to a painfully pale colour in contrast to Harry's black hair and near-tanned skin.
The boy began to speak, which Harry recognised as the sort of upper-crust accent that Uncle Dursley liked to reserve for people he called "rich wankers", or whatever that meant. "Hello" he said cautiously. Harry nodded back in response, too tired at the moment top even talk. The strange looking boy again peered down at him, "What are you doing at my Nanny Figg's house?" He asked suspiciously.
Harry was dumbfounded, How had he gotten here? He thought to himself. "I dunno", he muttered, "I guess my uncle took me here." "Well we'd better get you up then" Said the boy cheerfully, "By the way, what is your name?" he enquired.
Harry introduced himself, whom once the boy heard his name - seemed to recognize it. "My name is Draco Malfoy." Said the thin, pale boy, extending an arm towards Harry. Harry shook his hand, then asked "Why does it look to me that my name is familiar to you?" "I dunno" Said Draco, "But I swear I've heard that name before." Both boy's shrugged then walked on towards the house.
Vernon continually smacked his nephew with this belt, never caring for the intense pain it would have caused for such a young boy. Only stopping once Harry had fallen once more, battered and bruised. Neither crying nor angry, only the look of despair, as if his life had and never would mean anything, Harry lay there to sleep.
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When Harry woke it looked to be the early morning. He looked up to see a face peering down at him. It was a boy, probably around his age; he looked around the same height as well, his hair and skin colour toned to a painfully pale colour in contrast to Harry's black hair and near-tanned skin.
The boy began to speak, which Harry recognised as the sort of upper-crust accent that Uncle Dursley liked to reserve for people he called "rich wankers", or whatever that meant. "Hello" he said cautiously. Harry nodded back in response, too tired at the moment top even talk. The strange looking boy again peered down at him, "What are you doing at my Nanny Figg's house?" He asked suspiciously.
Harry was dumbfounded, How had he gotten here? He thought to himself. "I dunno", he muttered, "I guess my uncle took me here." "Well we'd better get you up then" Said the boy cheerfully, "By the way, what is your name?" he enquired.
Harry introduced himself, whom once the boy heard his name - seemed to recognize it. "My name is Draco Malfoy." Said the thin, pale boy, extending an arm towards Harry. Harry shook his hand, then asked "Why does it look to me that my name is familiar to you?" "I dunno" Said Draco, "But I swear I've heard that name before." Both boy's shrugged then walked on towards the house.