A/N- Thank you SO much to my wonderful reviewers, even though there are less of you than I would have liked. Taiyou Faia-Kitsune, Marsky, burningchaos, lampshadesrgreat, chaotic kat, and Dyyla Joi, I love you guys!
This is actually my least favorite of the chapters so far. I probably would have done away with it, but important things happen that need to happen, so... Anyway, to answer a few concerns as best I can without giving away the plot (which is so INSANELY more complex now than when I started...):
Yes, Draco is OOC here. In the simplest terms I can give you, he lied to Harry way back when. Not a huge lie, but an important one. I'll get to it later, I promise. The way I see it is this- after the whole thing with Cedric, Harry started getting all snarky and moody. Draco is doing the exact same thing, just in the opposite direction. I catch myself wondering why no one sees that he's slowly getting back to normal, but then I realize that I'm on chapter 15 and you're all on chapter 6.
As to the reason Harry is being so nice to him, I couldn't see Harry being mean and nasty to someone who came to his door beaten to a pulp and asking for help. It just isn't in his nature, simply because he knows what it feels like to be treated like crap and ignored. The reason for his initial kindness is just that, the reason for his continuing kindness is that they're learning to see the sides of the other that they've never faced before. Trust me, I'm not going to make it easy on them. It's smooth sailing for a while, here, but the rapids will come up eventually. At this point, they've barely pushed away from shore.
To end these notes, I have a burning desire for some information, or at least a lead on where to find it. I'm kinda sick right now, and my head is all foggy. I'm good to write my own plot, but I have not the brainpower to scan through all the books looking for incidental details. Here's what I need, even if someone could just throw me a book number and chapter number, I'd be much obliged. I need basic info on as many of Draco's "buddies" as can be found- Pansy, Blaise, etc. Crabbe and Goyle I've got, no problem, but I really don't have the energy to scan through five books looking for Pansy Parkinson's eye color, you know? Yeah.
Okay, I'm going to go take more Sudafed, you guys enjoy. I'll put chapter 7 up tomorrow. Oh, and if I can get 25 reviews by Christmas, I'll guarantee that I'll post a full 15 chapters by January 1. How's that for a deal?
PS- Oh, and to answer, no one does anything to Dudley, really. They might have, but I didn't give them time. Draco does steal his chair, though...
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Chapter VI – Meet the Dursleys
The next few days went by faster than Harry would have thought possible. Hedwig had returned in the night, dropping the usual letters on his desk and retiring to her cage. She and Draco had gotten along reasonably well, Harry decided, considering that he thought the owl was much more intelligent than most people would suspect, and probably knew what a git he'd been for the last few years. Nevertheless, ten minutes after Harry had introduced him, Hedwig was nipping lightly at Draco's fingers as he petted her.
"I always wanted my own owl." he commented, chuckling as the owl nipped him again. Harry looked at him oddly.
"I'd have thought you got everything you wanted." He commented lazily, as though this were indisputable fact. Draco smiled thinly.
"Not everything." Harry heard the sigh in his voice, but decided that the other boy would probably prefer it if he didn't ask. He was probably right.
At the very least, Draco had gotten used to the fact that his relatives never opened Harry's door, so he had stopped shoving Harry off the bed in the mornings, which Harry was glad of. It was hard enough being forced to do housework all day; he didn't need to be so rudely awakened as well.
Harry's requests for food had been answered, as he expected they would be, without comment. Ron sent him a note asking if he was pregnant, though, citing the cockroach clusters and licorice wands as being just as strange for Harry as ice cream and pickles were to any other person. The letter was quite funny, and even Draco had laughed about it. Draco had also been quite surprised that Harry bothered to ask for his favorites, or that he even remembered the brief comments they had shared about the snack foods. When they had arrived and Harry passed them to him, he knew he looked like an excited child, but he found that he didn't care. Harry had just laughed and told him not to drool on the floor, and had been pillowed again for it.
So, they came to the end of Draco's first week at Number 4 Privet Drive, having spent the week not half as horribly as both of them imagined it could have been. They were actually, Harry thought, getting dangerously close to being friends. He could just imagine Ron's reaction to it; he hated Draco with a passion. Harry could understand why, of course. Draco had said some pretty rude things about Ron, and his entire family. But, as he was getting to know the blond boy, he was also beginning to realize that a lot of the things Draco said and did had no meaning behind them at all. It seemed to be something that he just did, an integral part of Draco Malfoy. He would say horribly insulting things still, even as they were sharing dinner or going to sleep for the night, but Harry was slowly learning to tell when he was serious and when he wasn't. The mean glint that he had always seen in Draco's eyes, he realized, was probably not anywhere near as "mean" as he had thought it. He wondered just how many of the other boy's actions he had misinterpreted over the years, and also wondered how many of his own actions Draco had misinterpreted.
Draco's wounds had mostly healed, though he was now an attractive shade of brownish purple rather than black and blue. Harry had commented to this effect, and been hit with the pillow yet again. He was starting to think he should limit Draco's access to the projectile weapon, but then had the startling realization that, despite the fact that Draco did still have his wand (he put it on the desk right next to Harry's at night, a sort of unspoken truce), he hadn't drawn it on him once since arriving. Where he would normally have been the subject of a curse or hex, he was now simply the target of a soft mass of fluff. He wasn't sure what that meant, if anything. Maybe Draco just found it convenient, or perhaps he assumed there was a reason Harry never used his wand and decided to follow suit. Whatever the reason, Harry was glad that Draco had avoided using magic, as he wasn't quite prepared to explain to the entire Order what Draco Malfoy was doing in his bedroom.
At that particular moment, what he was doing was complaining. Harry had come to the realization that Draco was an accomplished complainer. He could find something to complain about in every situation if he felt like it. And he had been feeling like it more and more. The most dangerous thing that could have happened had. Draco Malfoy had gotten bored. And as a result, he was complaining about everything from the food ("Why can't we ever have anything else?") to the sleeping arrangements ("Stay on your half, or I'll shove you out again.") to the quality of air ("Why is it so musty in here? Can't you get an air freshener or something?"). Harry had had about all he could stand of this over the previous two days. Draco was in the process of opening his mouth to say something else (probably about the waning supply of cockroach clusters, which was only waning because Draco himself was eating so many of them) when Harry finally decided that he'd had enough.
"If you want to come down and help, you're more than welcome." He snipped in Draco's general direction. It was yet another morning, very much like the previous ones. Both boys had showered and dressed, and Draco had since positioned himself on Harry's bed, as usual, with his "breakfast" of snacks. Harry had grown used to it, but he still wondered how it was possible for Draco to eat so much junk food and not wind up as ... rotund... as his two cronies, Crabbe and Goyle. He had often thought of asking the question outright, but wasn't quite sure how Draco would take it; not the question itself, of course, but Harry still recalled how venomously Draco had spoken of his father when he first arrived, and he knew that the other two boys' parents were friends of Lucius Malfoy's. It would be better, for the time being, if he didn't pour salt in a possible wound.
In the meantime, Draco appeared to actually be considering the offer. The majority of his wounds being healed, he had much more mobility and stamina than he had had in the first few days, and he figured that he probably could stand to move around. If he remembered correctly, it would actually speed his healing time. He looked up at Harry questioningly.
"What are you doing today?" Harry blinked at the question, but proceeded with pulling his shoes on as he answered.
"Planting. Aunt Petunia has some fall-blooming something or other that she wants put in." Draco nodded slowly.
"Can I help?" Harry looked up at him for a long moment. He could tell from the tone of voice that Draco was not asking permission, he was asking if he would actually be useful if he were to help. He met Draco's eyes, and judged him to be serious.
"Yeah. At the very least, you could help tamp down the dirt and water them after they're in." Harry shrugged, leaving the final decision to Draco himself. He made it quickly.
"Then I'm helping." Harry smiled to himself, privately imagining the amount of complaining that Draco would be doing by the end of the day.
"Okay, then." Harry finished tying his shoe and stood up. "Whenever you're ready." He tried to sound confident, he really did, but inside he was quivering. He had never had any friends, so he had never had to introduce anyone to the Dursleys before Hogwarts, and even since, the closest he'd gotten to an 'introduction' was the Weasleys pulling him through a fireplace (and his Uncle Vernon had not been pleased with that). He could feel his stomach churning at the thought of the Dursley's reactions when they saw Draco. What would he do if they kicked both of them out? They could go to Diagon Alley, use the Knight Bus like he had and get rooms at the Leaky Cauldron, but he knew that would raise heads. He was famous, and Draco wasn't unknown in the wizarding world. Both of them, in the same place at the same time, was bound catch someone's attention, and attention was definitely not what Draco or he needed right then (even though Draco was annoyed if Harry's attention was anywhere else for more than five minutes, but Harry chalked that one up to boredom, cabin fever, and having no one else to talk to but Hedwig, who wasn't much of a conversationalist). Also, Harry couldn't see Draco Malfoy ever having stayed somewhere like the Leaky Cauldron, nor ever wishing to.
And that wasn't even the worst that Harry could imagine. Well, all he could imagine the Dursleys doing was kicking them out for now, they were much too scared of the Order to lay a hand on him, and he figured that that fear would transfer to Draco as well, but what would he do if they kicked him out permanently? He supposed he could live at Grimmauld Place, but he couldn't see Dumbledore letting him. The old wizard had been adamant about Harry staying with his blood relatives at least for a while every year. If they wouldn't take him, where would he go? He wasn't yet an adult, not legally, so he couldn't really do anything if the Dursleys refused to keep him any longer. He would be easy pickings for any Death Eater with a grudge or something to prove. And besides himself, there was now Draco to consider. He had made it clear that he wouldn't be able to go home for a long while, if ever.
Harry was pulled from his worried inner-thoughts by the pillow again connecting with his skull. Draco was standing up in front of him, holding the other end of the pillow that now rested lightly against Harry's ear, wearing a look of slight concern. The expression changed to a smirk, though, as he glared at the blond.
"I'm ready." He stated, the smirk transferring to his voice oh-so easily. Harry looked him over once. He looked as immaculate as anyone could under such circumstances, wearing a borrowed outfit (Harry's favorite green shirt again, and a pair of jeans that must have been from when Dudley was eight, as they actually almost fit) and having had the living shit beat out of them only a week before. Aside from what might be mistaken as a shadow near his hairline (the last vestiges of the nasty cut that had bloodied his hair so well the night he arrived), Draco Malfoy looked exactly like... Draco Malfoy. Harry gulped, but felt better. If there was one thing that the Dursleys hated more than wizards, it was unkempt wizards. He thanked whoever was listening that Draco Malfoy, for all his faults, was anything but "unkempt". Harry made an attempt to smooth down his hair, a nervous habit that he had never been able to break, bit his lip slightly and opened the door to his room.
As the two boys made their way downstairs, Harry's mind raced. What was he going to say to them when they looked at Draco and him in shock? When his Uncle Vernon began his yelling, when Dudley raced to "hide" behind his mother, who could block perhaps the view of one of his arms but not much else. What was he going to do?
Draco, as it turned out, handled it for him. He cut in front of Harry on the stairs, and strolled into the kitchen as though it were the most natural thing in the world, Harry following behind him in a cloud of worry.
The entrance of Draco Malfoy into the Dursley kitchen would not be forgotten soon. Dudley wasn't awake, as it was his custom to appear only when there was food or a present of some kind available. It was Harry's Aunt Petunia who was the first to notice that a stranger had appeared in the room, as Vernon Dursley was already buried in his morning paper.
It was a lovely morning; sunlight was streaming through the front windows of the house, the backyard was glistening with early morning dew that had yet to burn off, Aunt Petunia was screeching, Uncle Vernon's yelling was causing him to turn a shade of purple usually only seen in the rarer kind of tropical flowers, Harry stood in the doorway, trying his best to look unconcerned but inside already running to pack his things. And Draco stood in the midst of it all, lightly rocking on the balls of his feet and wearing his best Slytherin look of pure arrogance and annoyance, completely ignoring the screaming adults before him. He waited calmly for a few minutes, reading the Muggle news as best he could upside-down and paying no attention to the Dursleys whatsoever. It didn't take long for them to quiet and begin staring at him as though he had grown a second head right before their eyes. He smiled, and Harry cringed. Draco smiled for many reasons, and he was sure that this wasn't one of the good ones.
He was mildly surprised. The blond boy reached a hand into the pocket of his borrowed jeans and pulled out a handful of something. The Dursleys eyed his fist warily, both edging backward slowly, as one would back away from a dangerous beast. Harry figured that, in a way, they probably had the right idea. Finally, still not revealing his hand, Draco spoke.
"Good morning. I suppose you're wondering who I am?" He eyed the Dursleys, waiting for a response. Finally, Aunt Petunia nodded slightly, then looked terrified. Draco merely smiled again, and gave a slight bow. "I am Draco Malfoy, heir of the Malfoy line. I shall be staying here the remainder of the summer holiday." He said it so simply that Harry couldn't believe his audacity, to simply announce that he would be staying. Then he saw what Draco had in his hand. The Slytherin smiled, his eyes lighting in the particular evil way that made him rather resemble the dragon he was named, and opened his hand, spilling its contents onto the Dursleys kitchen table. There were several gold Galleons, Harry estimated between ten and fifteen. The Dursleys were now torn between eyeing the pile of gold on their table and eyeing the boy who had produced it, who then continued to speak.
"Solid gold, of course. I trust it will cover my room and board here, along with my helping Harry in his chores, of course." He spoke with an amiable enough tone, but one that brooked no argument. His statements would be fact, for he would accept no other outcome. With that, he strode further into the kitchen and relieved Aunt Petunia of her frying pan, casually asking where he could find the eggs.
Harry stood in shock. Not only had Draco Malfoy faced down the Dursleys, he had done it and won, without any sort of punishment or backlash at all. In fact, Harry realized, he had probably hit on the only solution to his being allowed to stay for any length of time. There were two things that held power over the Dursleys- money and prestige. It was clear from his language, his demeanor, and the small pile of gold that was worth more than Vernon Dursley's paycheck for the year, that Draco Malfoy had both. In surplus. The Dursleys, so attuned to such things, were more than aware of it.
They were also aware that the boy, besides his obvious high status, was also a wizard- no one else would have shown up at their house and arrived in their kitchen alongside their unwanted nephew. A healthy dose of fear and gold had worked a miracle, and Harry felt more relieved than he could remember feeling for a while. For a moment, at least, his problems had been solved for him, and it was Draco who had done the solving. He didn't think he could ever thank the other boy enough; it was a solution that he never would have thought of, and one that was so eminently Draco.
Instead of thanking him at the moment, he instead moved over to where Draco was working out how to use the Muggle stove. He was studying it intently, trying to figure out how to make it cook an egg that was sitting, still whole, in the frying pan. Harry had to bite his lip to keep from laughing. He softly removed Draco's hand from the handle of the pan and took over, cracking the egg and splitting it over the pan, careful to keep the shell from cracking and breaking off into the goo. Draco was watching intently over his shoulder, seemingly determined to figure this out. Harry threw out the shells and returned to make sure the egg was cooking properly before asking the obvious question.
"Have you never cooked an egg before?" He asked it quietly, but he and Draco could both tell that the Dursleys were listening intently. Draco shot Harry an impressed smile for a fraction of a second, aware that Harry was allowing him to back up the assumptions the Dursleys had made earlier. Then he changed it quickly to the smirk that matched his next tone of voice.
"Of course not! We have servants for this kind of... thing..." He eyed the egg distastefully in case the Dursleys were watching him. Harry grinned and sighed.
"Sorry you have to come live with us peasants." He joked, his tone somewhere between joshing and sarcastic.
"Nonsense." Draco shot back, mirroring Harry's inflection perfectly, "I suppose it will do me good to learn how the unfortunate such as yourself manage to survive."
The boys both chuckled, aware that the Dursleys were paying rapt attention to all that was said and not caring in the slightest, as Harry slid the egg off the frying pan and onto the serving plate next to the stovetop. He then retrieved the bacon from where it was sizzling on a back burner, sliding that onto the plate as well and taking it to the table.
Dudley was just arriving downstairs as he and Draco took two of the remaining chairs at the table, leaving only one for the large boy to wedge himself into. He had approached cautiously that morning- his parents' screaming waking him long before the smell of cooking bacon. The screaming and its sudden cessation had led him to believe that 1) something big had happened, 2) it involved Potter, and 3) he had best not mention it.
Therefore, Dudley smashed as much of himself as he could fit onto the last remaining chair, not mentioning the sudden appearance of a platinum blond boy that he had never seen before nor the fact that said boy had taken his second chair. He watched his parents for a moment before deciding how to proceed. They were acting oddly- they would look at the stranger, then avoid looking at him, then shoot glances his way, but there were being neither hostile nor welcoming. They simply acted as though he were a hallucination or mirage that would go away eventually, but, even so, is not to be treated as real while it is there. Inputting all this information in a much simplified format, Dudley came to his conclusion- do not mess with the new boy. It would be a Bad Idea. With this firmly cemented in his rather thick head, Dudley settled down to consume his portion of the egg and half slice of bacon.
Breakfast was eaten in silence, broken only by the clinking of ice in glasses of orange juice (half filled, of course) and the occasional swish of a napkin across skin. Once he had cleaned up, Harry was directed to the plants that needed to be put in the garden. They stood in a row, like leafy soldiers awaiting orders, in the backyard of the Dursley house. Harry drank his customary glass of water, watching Draco as he copied the procedure, and stepped out into the yard, Draco following him silently.
The sun was still well-hidden behind the house, but its rays illuminated what they could see of the rest of the neighborhood, glinting off windows in golden arcs. It really was quite a lovely neighborhood, with nicely kept houses and lawns, but rarely did Harry ever stop to appreciate it except on mornings such as that one. The dark haired boy stretched out, his back cracking in several places as it bent backward slightly. He yawned slightly, flexing his shoulders as he did so, then smiled and turned to Draco, who still trailed a few paces behind him. With a grin he motioned to the blond to follow him. They needed to retrieve shovels and other planting implements before they could start the day's work. Harry eyed the soldiers, still standing silently in their line. Somehow, there didn't seem to be quite so many as there had been the night before.