A/N I think I'm doing quite well at this writing two fics at the same time thing, don't you?? Thanks to reviewers:
DanuMarie: Thanks for the tip, I'm rubbish at editing... I never read a chapter after I've written it haha! I apologise!! And, I'm afraid to say that I've never thought about betas. I agree it would be useful, but there's something about beta's that makes me a bit wary. I'm always scared that they will change the chapter too much and it won't come out how I wanted it to be. And if its only grammatical errors that are not so good, I'll fix it now that you've pointed out and I'll go back and read chapters once I've written them, like a good author should!! So thank you so much for your offer, I really appreciate it honestly, but I'll see how I go, and in a couple chapters time, tell me if its still not too good, and then I'll let you have a look. Oh, also, I wouldn't want you being my beta so often, because I don't want you to know what happens before I upload haha!!
ThisIsMyDecember: I know, bless him. I always make Harry a victim lol, hope he gets over it!
Avihenda: Hehe, glad I've got some curiosity in there!! Thanks for reading!
SlashFan69: Yeeeaahhh I know!! You'd never have guessed that Lucius could do such magic lol!! Well, it wouldn't be a slash fic if Draco didn't, would it?? Hehe!
The First of a Lifetime
Draco woke up the morning after Potter's arrival in a strange frame of mind: he was not going to work today. He was sure that his father would understand, since Draco had a new appliance to set up. Draco looked upon it as if he had gotten a new broomstick and he needed to check it was working properly before he could do anything else. He therefore took it upon himself to stay in bed far later than usual that day, and give Potter his first real working order.
Draco opened his mouth to speak to his bedroom, but then remembered what his father had said about not even needing to talk.
'Wake up, find the kitchen and make me breakfast,' he thought to himself.
It took a couple of minutes, but Draco soon heard footsteps on the floor above him, then walking down stairs, and right past his bedroom and down another set of stairs. Surprisingly, the first door he heard close beneath him seemed to be the right one to the kitchen, and he couldn't hear Potter anymore.
Draco smirked to himself in bed. Although this was a very lazy way to start the day, he thought he might get used to it. And even though he was using a bit less energy than he usually would in a morning, he would still be going to work every day apart from today and exercising.
Keen to find out exactly what Potter was making him for breakfast as soon as possible, Draco slumped out of his bed and made his way to the shower.
Twenty minutes later, after dressing and concentrating a lot of time on his hair as usual, Draco went downstairs and into the kitchen to find... Well, he hadn't expected what he saw.
The kitchen smelled delicious on its own, let alone when Draco looked at all the food that was waiting for him. There was a plate that had sausages, bacon, beans, eggs and mushrooms on it, and then over four bowls of what looked like every kind of cereal Draco owned, and also a plate of toast with various types of jam next to it. Draco's eyes then found Potter, and he looked at him in a combination of disbelief and surprise.
Potter stared back for a moment, standing next to all the food, before he said, "You didn't specify what you wanted."
Draco smirked; it was hard to hold back the laughter. "A slice of toast would have sufficed."
Potter's expression stayed neutral, "You would have given me twenty minutes for a slice of toast?"
"Well, I didn't know if you were any good at cooking magically," Draco replied as he took the hot breakfast and sat down at the small table in the kitchen. "You'll notice I don't have any of those Muggle whatevers that do it for you."
"Well now you know. Do you like it?" Potter asked with a hint of sarcasm in his voice.
Draco swallowed and merely said, "Yes."
He noticed Potter standing there, watching him eat, and then looked around at all the bowls of cereal. "Well, you'd best eat something, then."
Potter made a jerking movement. "What?" He said.
"I can't eat all of it, Potter," Draco said, "Eat."
And the raven-haired boy moved almost instantly to grab a bowl and a spoon before beginning to eat. As soon as he started doing that, however, Draco looked up and saw a brown Barn Owl at the window, waiting for it to be opened. Draco sneered into his food.
"Get the post," He said to Potter, and he grinned evilly as Potter put down his bowl and went straight to the window. Draco watched him open it, take the morning copy of the Daily Prophet off the owls leg and drop a coin into its pouch from his pocket. He then turned back to the table, his eyes scanning the front page headline as the owl flew off again.
Draco guessed what it was about by the look of concentrated calm on Potter's face. And as Potter dropped the paper onto the table with stiff-looking hands, Draco saw that his guess was correct.
Potter Still Missing after Kidnapping Two Nights Ago.
Draco smirked - he could not stop himself.
"You can't keep me here forever, you know," Potter snapped suddenly, catching a glimpse of Draco's face.
"Funny," Draco replied calmly, "I thought I was the one that does the ordering. And I can keep you here for as long as I like - or have you forgotten already that I commanded you to stay until I say so?"
"People will figure out soon enough who hates me enough to kidnap me," Potter said, "They'll come looking."
Draco rolled his eyes, "Merlin, Potter, you are pethetic. You've actually forgotten that my father is Minister of Magic? Why would anyone be stupid enough to search his son's house?"
Potter didn't reply for a few minutes, but when he did, it seemed to be on a different sort of topic. "So, this is your house then? You didn't just kill someone and take it from them? Oh no, wait, I forgot; you don't have the guts to actually kill people; you just set it all up for someone else to do the crime."
Draco jumped up, wand in hand, pointing it straight at Potter's chest. "I'll pretend you didn't say that, shall I?"
And then Potter laughed, actually laughed at Draco. "What? For my own good? Malfoy, you wouldn't scare me even if you were holding ten wands."
Draco rounded the table and strode over to him, but he didn't back down an inch. "I may not kill you, Potter, but I could certainly hurt you. You forget - again - that I have a wand, and you don't."
But then Potter's expression changed to a grin of his own as he pulled a wand out of his trouser belt - though admittedly it was not the same wand Draco had seen him with all through Hogwarts. At Draco's gawping face, Potter said, "Did your father not tell you he left a wand by my bed upstairs? It's not mine, and it's pretty useless, but I'm sure it would protect me if you tried to hurt me. How else would I have cooked you breakfast earlier? And, while we're on the subject of things your dad didn't tell you, he somehow managed to get all my clothes here as well," He pointed at the clothes he was wearing, which Draco only just realised were different to yesterday. "It seems he wants to take care of me, Malfoy, so you'd best not go against his wishes."
When he finished talking, he was smiling at Draco as if he was happy to be standing in his kitchen. Draco slowly registered the things Potter had said, and came to the conclusion that his father had merely given Potter a wand so that he could do things like cook food for Draco by magic... and the clothes? Well, otherwise, Potter would stink...
There were a couple of minutes of silence again before Draco changed the subject back to a previous one. He put his wand away slowly, walked away from Potter a little and said, "Yes, this is my house. I told you I'd show it to you."
"Honestly," Potter said in a bored sort of voice, "I'm not that bothered."
"Well tough," Draco snapped, "Follow me." And the Gryffindor slave obeyed as Draco walked out of the kitchen.
Harry tried to resist, but within a split second his feet were following Malfoy out of the kitchen. As he walked behind him, a thought crossed his mind that this 'enchantment' he had been put under was not all that different from the Imperius Curse. Of course, this must have been a lot stronger, because Harry remembered that in his Defence Against the Dark Arts lessons in fourth year he was quite able to say no to the commands during the Imperius curse, as he obviously couldn't with this. He had tried this morning as well, when he had been woken up by the sound of Malfoy's voice telling him to make breakfast. He kept his eyes shut and said to himself 'Don't... Just go back to sleep...' But to no avail. That voice was overridden by another, telling him to get up, find the kitchen and make breakfast...
"This is the living room," Malfoy said, coming to a halt next to a door leading off the front hall, "As you know, because we sat in there last night." He then walked a bit further around, and Harry followed. "This is a broom cupboard, or cloakroom," He said, signalling another door, "I keep my Quidditch balls and robes in there." They walked to a door next to the kitchen door that they had just come out of next, and Malfoy said, "This is the dining room. I tend to only use that when guests are here." And then they walked to the last door on the ground floor, on the other side of the house to everything else, "There's a pool and a hot tub in there. Merlin only knows why my father insisted on putting those in, I never use them."
Harry looked sceptically at Malfoy as he passed. It was quite obvious why he had a pool in his house: to show off how much money the Malfoy family actually had. And Malfoy knew that was the reason.
Harry followed Malfoy up the stairs slowly, a strange sense of anger now flooding through him.
"Up here," Malfoy said as they reached the top, "Are five luxury bedrooms, four of which have bathrooms in them, and wardrobes, desks - that sort of thing. Mine is that one," He added, pointing to the door furthest away from them, at the far end of the landing, "You are not to go in it unless I ask you to, understand?" Harry nodded reluctantly. Malfoy eyed him suspiciously for a moment longer and then continued; "That room," He said, pointing to a door on the other side of the corridor, "Is a sort of library. It doesn't have many books in it yet, but it will soon, I'm sure. That is another bathroom, separate to all the bedrooms," He said, showing Harry yet another door. "And upstairs is just your bedroom, as you know, having just the stairs - well, ladder - next to your door!" Harry glared at him. "You know, I always wondered why my father insisted on putting a shabby room up there with a single bed six months ago as well. Now I know."
Harry clenched his fists as Malfoy walked passed him again to go back downstairs. "Your dad has been planning on taking me ever since he built this place, then?" He asked in a voice of forced calm.
"I suppose so," Malfoy replied lazily, "I never knew though. You were a surprise for me, you see. A gift, if you will." They walked into the living room and Malfoy sat down easily on the largest sofa, sprawled out as though he were king. "And I must say, a brilliant gift you're turning out to be. Having someone here to do whatever I tell them, wait on my every hand and foot... No better place for you, I think. This is just where you're supposed to be..."
He stopped talking suddenly as Harry pulled out the wand that was in his belt quickly and pointed it directly at him - fury coursing through every vain in his body. But not a second before he struck, Malfoy yelled, "DON'T!" And Harry's wand hand twitched but did not cast a spell. "Don't," Malfoy repeated slowly, "Use that thing on me, Potter." Harry shook with rage, but nothing came out of the end of the wand. "Drop it," Malfoy said more slowly, his eyes menacing, and yet also slightly scared. Harry's gripped hand let go the wand with a jerk and it fell to the dark wooden floor with a dull thud. "You best learn some manners, Potter," Malfoy said, "Or you might not last very long."
Harry stared at him, but then quickly bent down, picked up the wand and strode from the room, feeling great satisfaction that Malfoy had jumped when Harry moved so suddenly.
Wishing with everything he had that Malfoy would not order him back, he sped up to the room that Malfoy had called Harry's, slammed the door and threw himself on the bed, still shaking with anger. After a while, the anger had ebbed away, but been replaced by something much worse, and much more powerful.
An overwhelming sadness crept upon him as he lay on his bed for what must have been hours, but he did not cry. Suddenly, he felt different. The realisation of what had happened to him was just sinking in, and for the long minutes that he stayed there, he realised that Malfoy was right. No one would ever find him here. Malfoy was, as he had said, the Minister of Magic's son; why on earth would people check this house? But then, would people even be looking for him anyway? After all, the Death Eaters were in charge now, they must have been glad that Harry Potter was gone. Unless they thought that he had run off somewhere to gather people in secret to take over again, and then that would be even worse, because then they would search for him just so that they could lock him up when they found him! Every way he thought of getting out of this mess ended up in a dead end. There was only one hope left for him. Ron and Hermione. He knew Ginny wouldn't get involved, for two reasons - one, Ron wouldn't let her; and two, she was probably moaning too much to listen to any ideas or plans. But Ron and Hermione were different. They had spent nine months with Harry travelling across England; they knew how to forget about sadness and get on with a job in hand. Why, Harry bet that right this minute they were trying to think of easy ways to find him, and get him back...
Draco relaxed in his chair again after a few minutes. He had considered calling Potter back, but for some reason he did not. And then an even stranger feeling swept through him, if only for a moment - guilt. Perhaps he had gone a bit too far when gloating about Potter's enslavement...
Draco blinked and raised his eyebrows at his own stupidity. Him? Gloat too much? It was laughable. But then...
He looked up at the ceiling, as if to see Potter pacing around his room. Well, he didn't know what Potter would be doing, and nor did he care. Why should he care?
After a while Draco felt extremely bored, and so ordered his slave around the house for a good few hours. It was rather enjoyable, and yet every time he heard Potter sigh he felt a strange pang of some feeling that he had never felt before. He didn't know what it was, and so he forgot about it, and carried on enjoying his day.
A/N I know, I know, I'm angry that the chapters are short as well, but they will get longer as the plot develops, they always do. However, if this story is just destined to have short chapters, forgive me, at least I'm updating :) Thanks for reading.