First of all, a few words:

Just like in the canon, sometimes characters lie and doesn't tell what they really think. Also, most of the time opinions expressed by characters don't coincide with the author's opinion.

Let's go! Enjoy the fic!

Chapter 8- The rich boys

"You kiddie is just so cute and smart!" said a chubby woman at the supermarket.

She said it while she was holding two-year-old Harry Potter; the child was giggling.

"He isn't actually mine, he's my nephew. This one is my kid." answered a younger Petunia Dursley while she gently stroked baby Dudley's head.

"Oh!" said the woman, just noticing the other kid. "He's cute, too." She uttered while showing a fixed smile. Then, she put Harry on the floor and left.

Petunia held the hand of both infants and stared at a random point.

It was the third time she was complimented about Harry that day, and every time nobody noticed Dudley until she pointed him out; and it wasn't the first day like this, it always happened when she left home with both children.

It felt like a terrifying Déjà vu.

Now she was afraid to even look at Harry for too long, afraid to agree with everyone else, afraid to recognize he was a much more charming child than her son.

She visualized a future were all she cared about was Harry while leaving her own blood and flesh in a second plan.

"No." she said, then she kneeled and embraced little Dudley while kissing his forehead. "He won't outshine you, Dudleykins. I'm raising him too, but you'll always be the only child in my heart."

"Mum, get off, I'm trying to eat!" uttered eleven-year-old Dudley while crumbs of bread fell from his lips.

"Oh, I'm sorry, sweetie." whispered an older Petunia while realizing that moment was gone a long time ago.

Harry Potter was lying on a huge pile of golden coins now, waving his arms, trying to leave an angel-like shape on it, like he did a few times before with snow.

Griphook, a Gringotts' goblin, didn't make the slightest effort to hide his amusement. Mr. Snape, arms crossed, just stared with his default blank expression.

"So, how much is this money worth? Am I rich?" queried Harry thoughtfully, because he had read about some currencies around the world that were very cheap, therefore a lot of coins didn't always mean a lot of money.

"You have one of the biggest fortunes of contemporary Wizarding Britain, and it grows bigger and bigger each day because of the royalties that are collected from the usage of your late Grandfather's hair taming formula." answered Griphook, objectively.

"But it doesn't mean you shouldn't do anything useful while spending your existence being a waste of oxygen and space. You father, for instance, was so lazy he didn't work a single day in his life, therefore, he didn't add a single knut to it." spoke Mr. Snape, acidly.

Harry suddenly got up of his bed of coins.

"DID YOU KNEW MY FATHER?" he asked, excited.

"Unfortunately, yes." replied Snape.

"What was he like?" queried the boy, avid for any information about his parents.

Snape smirked at the prospect of being the first wizard to describe James Potter to Harry.

"He was the sorriest excuse for a man I had the displeasure to be acquainted with in my whole life, and that's something. He was lazy, a coward, a talentless exhibitionist who was very proud of himself for no reason at all."

"My aunt says bad things about him too." whispered Harry, desolately.

"Well, it seems I agree with her on something." retorted Snape.

"And… What was my mother like?" asked Harry, suddenly.

Snape made a pause to think and then answered.

"From the little I know of her, she seemed to be a self-righteous and vain social climber, she certainly saw in Potter an opportunity to have a more comfortable life; knowing your aunt, it certainly runs in their family's blood. By the way, what your aunt says about her? "

Harry was a bit confused: while neither Snape's nor Auntie's descriptions of his parents were flattering, they simply didn't fit together; the careless, dirty and self-destructive couple he had imagined for most of his life had little to do with this rich and arrogant attention-seeker boy and his greedy trophy-wife whom were being presented to him right now. Something was really strange about all of this. Snape was silent, staring into his eyes with an indecipherable expression, waiting for an answer. What should he tell him?

"She says my mother was thoughtless and didn't care much about me; she also says my mother didn't stop doing drugs while being pregnant, and because of that my brain is damaged and I have constant hallucinations. She says my father was a junkie too." mumbled the boy, bashfully.

Unlike Harry's expectations based on other people's reactions, Snape's face didn't flinch a single millimeter after hearing this. After a little while, he just sniggered slightly.

"Well, that's new." he said.

"What's new?" asked Harry.

"I've heard 'freaks' and 'weirdoes', but 'junkies' is new. I guess since your aunt matured, she thought her name-calling had to mature too. 'junkies' surely sounds more mature."

"What do you mean?" queried the boy, confused.

"They weren't junkies: apparently this story and all the related ones were just a way your aunt figured out to discourage you from researching your past and eventually finding out your parents were wizards; she wasn't very inclined to let you know you're a wizard, so I believe explaining the natural manifestations of your power as hallucinations was a way she thought of to hide the existence of magic from you." answered Snape.

Harry thought this theory made sense, especially when he recalled of how sad his aunt looked when Mr. Snape was in their home just about to bring him to the Wizarding World. Now, a new question was bugging the boy's mind.

"But… Why she didn't want me to know I am a wizard? Is there a problem with being a wizard?"

Snape seriously suspected Petunia was afraid Harry and her son were going to reenact her story with Lily, which wasn't exactly a cute story.

But he just kept those thoughts to himself and said: "I don't know what goes on her challenged mind, let's pick some coins and go already."

"How much of it can I draw?" queried Harry to Griphook while examining the contents of his vault.

"All of it, if you ever want. You're the only Potter left and by the Wizard law you have enough age to do everything you want with your possessions." said Griphook.

"I suggest you draw enough for your school year and a little more to convert to Muggle money if you ever feel like buying something in their territory; so you'll be able to keep up with your ascendency's way and be a showoff in both realms." advised Snape.

They left the bank with a bag full of wizard coins and another with plenty of British pounds, both somehow Mr. Snape managed to fit into a pouch that felt way lighter to lift than the bags inside of it.

Shortly they were inside Madame Malkins' garments shop, where Harry could finally buy some wizard robes for the school. He was put on a stool to have his measures taken; next to him was a pale and blond boy wearing an expensive looking sort of wizard attire; Madame Malkins, a cutesy short middle-aged witch, measured the kids and then left for a few minutes.

The blond boy gawked at Harry from toes to head in a patronizing way. Harry wondered if Mr. Snape's clothes-resizing spell worn off, but it didn't seem like it. Maybe that odd glare was because he was wearing "Muggle" clothes? But there were plenty of people with both Muggle and Wizard clothes walking throughout the Diagon Alley; his outfit wasn't unusual at all.

Then the pale boy questioned in a drawling voice, full of polite disdain.

"What is your name?"

The way the boy was staring at him made Harry so uncomfortable he thought this kid didn't deserve a response.

"Why do you want to know?" answered Harry with another question.

The drawling boy lifted his eyebrows slightly.

"That's a common question civilized people pose to each other when they're meeting for the first time. Aren't you used to it? If that's the case, I'm really sorry. Let me present myself: I am Draco Malfoy."

What sort of parents name their kid with something that sounds almost like "Dracula"? – thought Harry, perplexed. Draco just assumed that Harry's astounded expression was because his famous name ringed a bell and the commoner couldn't believe he was before the newest scion of Malfoy.

"Good afternoon, young Malfoy." said an already familiar baritone voice.

Mr. Snape approached the children and posted himself at Harry's right side, making it clear they were together; apparently he and Dracula FoieGras were acquaintances because the kid's smug attitude suddenly changed to some sort of reverence when he saw the older wizard.

"Good Afternoon, Mr. Pri… Mr. Snape." answered the boy, deferentially.

"How's your family doing?" asked the man.

"We're fine." And after two seconds Malfoy murmured "The finest possible under our current Rulers."

Harry didn't understand what Malfoy exactly meant, but it probably was some sort of indiscretion because Mr. Snape crisped his lips censoriously.

Malfoy was now looking at Harry with the corners of his eyes, curious but still a bit afraid of receiving some sort of reprimand for his previous approach. However, his nosiness was stronger than his apprehension.

"Is he your relative?" he asked Snape while gazing at Harry.

"Aren't we wizards all related?" mumbled Snape.

"I think we could say that. But, why is he with you? Is he your nephew or something?"

"He's a soon-to-be-Hogwarts student who's here to buy his school robes, just like you. The Hogwarts' Administration gave me the task to escort him for today." said Snape.

Malfoy took a deep breath and raised his eyebrows like he had just thought of something dreadful.

"Is he one of those?" he queried in an almost inaudible voice.

Harry didn't know what "those" were, but judging by Malfoy's voice tone it wasn't good. Mr. Snape's crisping his lips again just enforced this impression.

"No, he isn't, his parents just couldn't be here. If for some reason, your parents weren't able to bring you here for your errands, I would gladly accompany you instead since they certainly wouldn't trust a servant with such an important assignment."

Snape clearly implied this was a subject that shouldn't be disturbed anymore, but it seemed Malfoy couldn't take a hint.

"Who are his parents?" he asked.

Snape closed his eyes and assumed an ecclesiastical resigned expression.

"Young Malfoy, you need to be aware that you're very fortunate to have both your parents by your side because the same can't be said about most children your age. There was a war ten years ago, and many wizards were either killed of imprisoned afterwards. Asking about someone's parents nowadays is a faux-pas." lectured Snape."

"I'm sorry." said Malfoy while staring at the floor.

Madame Malkins came back and brought the robes for the children to try. In a little while, each one of the youngsters had three of them perfected and neatly folded inside their shopping bags.

"But, what's his name?" asked Malfoy when Snape made mention of leaving the shop.

"Why are you worried about that? You're going to spend the next seven years of your life attending to mostly the same classes, you're going to grow so tired of his name and face you're going to feel destructive urges towards him." reacted Snape.

"In a little bit Father and Mother will be here with my books and other supplies. Don't you want to stay here for a little longer to chat with them when they come?" inquired Malfoy.

"I'd love to, but I have a tight schedule right now. Please tell them I send my best regards." replied Snape.

"I will." said Malfoy, with a note of sorrow in his voice.

"Goodbye, and have a nice day." said Snape.

"Goodbye, and may the dar…" Malfoy stopped mid-sentence and blushed, like suddenly realizing he was about to say something inadequate; maybe the deathly gaze Mr. Snape directed to his eyes had something to do with it.

"May the darling things that brighten up your heart be on your way." said Malfoy then.

Severus left with Harry by his side. Potter was secretly thanking heavens they were finally leaving that annoying boy behind. Draco just longingly stared at the door because his father would be enraged if he didn't found him where he was supposed to be when he came back.

"Why didn't Snape just tell me his name?" he wondered.