Disclaimer: There are bits of dialogue taken from the original book 'Harry Potter and the Philosopher's stone' by J.K. Rowling. Please don't report or sue me for using these as I have clearly stated THEY ARE NOT MINE, I disclaim them! Characters and some settings are also of course not mine.

TAKE NOTE: The dialogue I have taken from the book is: in chapter 5 – Diagon alley, p60-61 and chapter 6 – The journey from platform nine and three quarters, p86 in most additions hopefully. Anyway you at least know the chapters and I would very much appreciate it if, if anyone has the book to hand they would compare Draco's version to Harry's and see if I actually managed to make it realistic – if Malfoy could have actually been thinking and feeling these things believably. No worries I can take criticism pretty well so please do tell me!

Thanks to: All my wonderful reviewers who I would thank personally if my computer weren't extra slow and it weren't 3.41 in the morning. I love you all! Promise to thank you all personally next chapter! Mwah!


Jesus Christ, holy Mary and Merlin…I loved this boy!


Oh shit, bugger, bollucks, fuck - Ow!

Malfoy fell backwards as Harry used his momentary pause to sock him one hard in the jaw.

Malfoy tried to scramble away from him, his brain was overtaxed with thoughts and he could no longer bring himself to hurt the other boy it was all so con – smack.

The outraged Gryffindor made as if to treat him to another blow but before he could, Malfoy scooted backwards and shot to his feet, staring at the boy on the floor for another moment in disbelief, before he turned tale and ran.

Harry wiped a smear of blood from the corner of his lip with the back of his hand.

"Fucking pussy."


"So you fell down…?"

"The stairs, yes" Harry said impatiently.

"And you only managed to sustain injuries to the top part of your body, namely your face?"

"Yes"

"And you didn't meet…?"

"Anyone, no! Look could we just get on with it, I'm supposed to be recounting a vision aren't I?"

Albus Dumbledore peered at Harry over his half-moon spectacles, he wasn't born yesterday. Although had learnt yesterday that potted shrimp tasted very good with cockroach clusters. It was surprising how long you could live and yet still learn new things everyd-

"Headmaster?"

"Oh yes, sorry dear boy. Would you like to tell me about this vision?"

Harry shivered at the memory and simply said, "I would rather use a pensieve this time if you don't mind sir."

Dumbledore sighed, "Very well but you know it is best not to run from these things Harry."

Standing Dumbledore went to the cupboard where Harry had first discovered his pensieve and retrieved it. Bringing it back he swirled the liquid once and then indicated for Harry to proceed.

Singling out the memory he needed, Harry carefully extracted it just as he had been taught and placed it in the bowl for Dumbledore to peruse at his leisure.

"Now I think it is time you went back to bed, I will look at your vision and tell you what I think it means tomorrow, here, this pass will allow you to take the morning off to rest and recuperate."

Harry gritted his teeth at yet again being excluded from what the vision meant, Tomorrow Dumbledore would tell him vaguely only what he thought it imperative Harry should know. What he had promised in fifth year hadn't held and Harry was still being kept in the dark on quite a few things, or so he suspected anyway.

Nevertheless he rose and made his way towards the door, there was just some things you couldn't change.

"Harry?" He looked back dejectedly as the headmaster called him.

"You might want to swing by the infirmary tomorrow, Madame Pomfrey has this wonderful salve for fist inflicted bruises."

Harry sighed.

Bollucks


Flashback

He looked to the left as a small boy approached and stepped up onto the stool next to him.

It was only due to the Malfoy's fine breeding that he managed to keep the shock from blossoming on his features. For right next to him stood the most beautiful person he had ever seen in his life.

Mussed ebony hair fell almost stylishly into a small round little face. Skin nearly as pale as his own stained pink as it emerged from the collar of the black robe he was being fitted with. He had glasses that did nothing to detract from his beauty but rather enhance it with their intonations of innocence.

He must have been staring despite his best efforts because the boy glanced at him out of the corner of his eye.

Clearing his throat he decided he better strike up a conversation, perhaps find out more about this entrancing beauty.

"Hello, Hogwarts too?"

The boy said yes and Malfoy was tempted to ask again just to hear his voice, so quiet was he.

"My Father's next door buying my books and mothers up the street looking at wands," He said in the drawling tone his Father used. Making a good impression was always important and he so wanted to impress this boy.

"Then I'm going to drag them off to look at racing brooms. I don't see why first years can't have their own. I think I'll bully Father into getting me one and smuggle it in somehow."

He glanced again at the boy to see his reaction to that; he'd managed to sound both rich and rebellious at once and thought it was sure to impress him.

However he didn't look impressed, so Draco tried again.

"Have you got your own broom?" He asked.

"No"

"Play Quidditch at all?"

"No"

Draco floundered, he wasn't used to this unresponsive behaviour.

"I do" This got no response either and despite himself he began to babble. "Father says it's a crime if I'm not picked to play for my house. Know what house you'll be in yet?" He sighed in profound relief when no ums or errs escaped his mouth. Father said it was a crime to seem hesitant in speech – it gives the impression of incompetence.

"No" Said the boy again but this time Draco caught a hint of discomfort, perhaps the boy was just shyer than he thought.

"Well know one really knows until they get there do they?" He said trying to sound reassuring. "But I know I'll be in Slytherin, all our family have been," He laughed the slightest touch nervously, "Imagine being in Hufflepuff, I think I'd leave wouldn't you?"

"Hmm" Said the boy. He seemed lost like he didn't have a clue what Malfoy was talking about.

Oh no, please, please don't tell me he's muggleborn!

Desperately he hunted around for something, anything to talk about. Perhaps find out this boy's blood origins.

Suddenly he spotted a huge oaf of a man standing at the window, what was he doing? Ugh he was obviously half giant. Here was something anyone could talk about.

"I say look at that man!"

"That's Hagrid," Said the boy, his tone lightening considerably. "He works at Hogwarts."

Finally something they could talk about.

"Oh, I've heard of him, he's a sort of servant isn't he?"

"He's the gamekeeper," The boy said sounding a little less enthusiastic.

However Malfoy was not to be deterred, " Yes exactly. I heard he's sort of savage," He said trying to remember everything his Father had told him, "lives in a hut on the school grounds and every now and then he gets drunk, tries to do magic and ends up setting fire to his bed."

"I think he's brilliant" The boy said his tone very cold now.

What have I said? It's true, Father said so.

He couldn't help the slight sneer that crept onto his features it was not his fault the boy had to go and pick incompetent half-breeds for friends.

"Do you? Where are your parents?" He asked trying to find out more about the boy.

"Their dead" The boy said shortly. It was almost as if he didn't mind but Draco was a past master at seeing past acts.

"Oh sorry" He said trying to sound sincere, he didn't know how to deal with these types of situations very well.

"But they were our kind weren't they?" He had to know.

"They were witch and wizard if that's what you mean." Malfoy did a mental cheer feeling better now; the boy's attitude was obviously a result of his upbringing.

"I really don't think they should let the other sort in do you? They're just not the same, they've never been brought up to know our ways. Some of them have never even heard of Hogwarts until they get the letter, imagine. I think they should keep it in the old wizarding families. What's your surname anyway?"

Before the other boy could answer Madame Malkin was finished with him and he hopped of the stool.

Malfoy couldn't just let him leave not without some sort of reassurance that he would see him again.

"Well, I'll see you at Hogwarts, I suppose" He tried so hard to make it a statement and not a question."

The boy didn't answer but he looked up before he left and in that split second he was caught in gaze of the purest emerald.

Malfoy thought about the boy almost constantly after that. He couldn't understand where he went wrong. Why hadn't he liked him? He'd done everything right, touched on the right topics, made pretty small talk and proved his worth by making his social wealthy standing clear.

He wished he knew because he so wanted the boy to like him.

Such a beautiful boy.

End flashback

Thinking back on conversation Malfoy knew exactly where he went wrong of course. Potter wasn't like anyone else he knew. He had compassion and wasn't fussed about what sort of background or genetics people had. All his friends were flawed in someway and yet he didn't seem to think it was a problem – didn't care.

It was almost cringe worthy thinking back on all the time he'd spent thinking about Potter. His younger heart had been so exited by the mere thought of him, such a quiet, different, beautiful boy.

He'd been smitten.

Because this boy had not grovelled at his feet because he had money or because his parents had connections. He had treated him as if he were anybody else, dislike and all.

Malfoy ran his hands through his hair agitatedly and got up from the sofa and went over to lean against the mantelpiece and gaze into the common room fire. It was late and his body ached from the fight earlier. But he couldn't seem to shut off his thoughts.

Flashback

When he'd got onto the train at Hogwarts for the first time he had been cocky and self assured, his Father had arranged for him to have his lackeys…just in case of course. Malfoy was rather small and delicate and until such time as he grew up he had to be kept safe.

He'd perused the platform first, hoping for a glimpse of his mystery boy, but hadn't seen him so he'd got onto the train and tried to catch a glimpse of him there. When he hadn't he'd placated himself with the thought that he'd obviously see him at the sorting ceremony but rumours had reached him not long after the train had set off, that Harry Potter was currently attending Hogwarts as a young first year and was actually sitting in a compartment on the train!

Malfoy couldn't not see for himself so he and his goons had wandered down there and before entering he'd taken a quick curious glance through the sliding doors window and low and behold there was the boy!

But he couldn't be… but on glancing at the boy's companion he could see that he must be Harry Potter.

And there and then, ignoring everything that his Father had told him about staying away and not being labelled as a target he had barged in.

"Is it true? They're saying all down the train that Harry Potter's in this compartment. So it's you is it?

"Yes" Said Harry looking quite obviously at his two goons.

Not liking having the attention taken away from him so soon he quickly introduced them and then got down to what was important.

"And my name's Malfoy, Draco Malfoy."

The other boy clumsily attempted to hide a snigger and Malfoy found himself blushing slightly despite himself. A lot of people thought his name was silly, he was nothing like a Dragon. Dragon's were strong and sturdy and magnificent. He was none of these things but one thing he could do, was breathe fire!

"Think my name's funny do you?" He sneered feeling the need to for revenge after having been embarrassed in front of Harry. "No need to ask who you are, my Father told me all the Weasley's have red hair, freckles and more children than they can afford."

He had to get Harry away from this boy immediately, "You'll soon find out that some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there."

He held out his hand, half intending to shake Harry's hand and half intending to whisk him into his arms and out of there.

"I think I can tell the wrong sort for myself thanks."

It took a moment to sink in, Harry was rejecting him – for a Weasley.

He thought Malfoy was the wrong sort!

So then he did the stupid thing, "I'd be careful if I were you Potter, Unless you're a bit politer you'll go the same way as your parents. They didn't know what was good for them either."

All hell had broken out after that, he'd dug himself a deeper and deeper hole and eventually left, only to linger outside and listen as the Weasley filth had poisoned Harry against him and his family.

End Flashback

He remembered it all after that Malfoy had tried so hard to get Potter to pay attention to him, even if it was negative – which it always was. And the more he watched him the more he fell in love with him.

But soon the fights had taken there toll and resentment grew because Potter always bested him and Potter didn't give him the time of day, until eventually love turned into hate and he'd blocked out the embarrassing and unwanted memories of loving Potter.

Until now.


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