Catching Fireflies

Author: Default
E-mail: rustyrazorblades@sbcglobal.net
Rating: NC:17 in later chapters
Summary: After his parents\' demise, Draco is forced to spend the summer with Harry at Number 4 Privet Drive in order to stay alive. What do the two teenage boys think about this? (POV will alternate with the chapters)
Disclaimer: See Prologue

Authors Note: I just wanted to thank everyone who reviewed the horribly short prologue. I promise, this one will be longer.

Also, I changed the fact that the story will only be in Harry\'s point of view. As the summary said *points up* the POV\'s will alternate with the chapters. So, obviously, this chapter is in Draco\'s POV.

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Chapter 1: Seriously Perturbed

I don\'t want to be here. It\'s as simple as that. I don\'t want to be in the Muggle world, surrounded by people who aren\'t even worth my time. I don\'t want to stand on the doorstep of my sworn archenemy, knocking on the door as though I belong here, as though I am some sort of friend. (Hey, look... I wonder what that button does?) I don\'t want to have to dress in Muggle clothes, with my Godfather at my side who is ready to drop me off with Muggles he doesn\'t know and a certain Wizard that he hates. (Holy Merlin! I wonder if it will make that sound again?) I don\'t want to have to be here in order to stay alive, pretty much prepared to hide from the \"Dark Lord\". (And again, and again, and again, and again...)

I want to go home.

At the last thought, I tighten my hands into fists hard enough so that my nails sink deep into the smooth skin of my palm. Now isn\'t the time to remember, Draconis. You\'re a Malfoy; you\'ll get through this. Stop acting like a child already. Quite absently, I realize that the \"inner voice\" sounds very much like my Father. Well now, doesn\'t that- pardon my French- suck major dick?

As a fat Muggle man slams open the door hard enough to shake the walls, yelling something about not wanting to buy whatever we are selling, I look to Snape, both perplexed and annoyed. I see that he is tense, and from the way he is working his jaw, he already doesn\'t like the rude Muggle.

\"We\'re here to see Harry Potter,\" he says curtly, staring at the man as though the man is nothing but an insect. I have the fleeting instinct to chuckle at the way Snape had to practically force Potter\'s first name from his mouth. Oh well; I knew I\'d do the same if I was in his place.

Ah yes, again with the yelling. Do all Muggles act so idiotic, or is this man just special? Feeling a headache coming on, I pinch the top bridge of my nose, and wait. \"Remind me, why am I here again?\" I ask, looking at my Godfather from the corner of my eyes. Before he could answer me, however, the fleshy Muggle says something about \"freaks\" that catches both of out attention.

\"He should be talking... You can barely see the man\'s neck, he\'s so bloody fat,\" I mutter angrily, now openly glaring at the man\'s back.

Seconds later, I am staring at my sworn enemy, and I feel my eyes widen at the sight.

Arrogant. That is one word I describe Potter during school. Being who he is, he is bound to be arrogant. Insults slide off of him, sparking anger and anger only. I want to hurt him, hurt him badly, for being so invincible. I know what has happened to him, my Father told me about it, yet nothing akin to the hurt he should feel crosses his face. It\'s like nothing bothers him, no matter what happens. I hate him for it; I hate him so fucking much.

But now, as he gazes at me from behind his broken-then-taped-up glasses, his gray clothes practically falling off of his body, dirt smudged on his face, and his messy hair practically sticking together with what looks like soil, the only word to describe him is pathetic.

\"Evening, Potter,\" I drawl, lips curling into the automatic sneer as I rake my eyes deliberately up and down his body. Shame reddens his cheekbones, but he doesn\'t look away from me, and tilts his head up a bit in what seems to be pride. (Hn. Bloody Gryffindors; even when they are dressed in rags, they still look proud.) \"Nice clothes, by the way.\"

Practically growling, shock replaced with what seems to be anger, he says, \"What are you-\"

However, before Potter could finish what he is saying, I hear a booming, \"GET INSIDE, YOU FREAKS, BEFORE ANYBODY SEES YOU!\" from the fat Muggle as he pushes Potter to the side and takes his place.

\"Excuse me? You aren\'t talking to us are you?\" says my Godfather, his voice cold. \"I advise you to speak to us right, Muggle, before there is an unfortunate accident...\" I hear a rustle of clothing, and without even looking I know that Snape has flicked back the side of his jacket, revealing a wand that has been fit into a pocket that he has modified himself. Widening my eyes in my best innocent face, puffing out my lower lip a bit, I say, \"Another accident, Uncle Snape? I know they\'re fun, but we\'re running out of places to hide the bodies...\" in an artificially sweet voice. Turning my attention back to the Muggle, I see that he is shaking with fear.

\"S-sorry, S-s-sir... D-do co-come i-in,\" the man stutters, his skin turning an odd shade of plum as he backs away from the door. His eyes never leave my Godfather\'s wand. Chuckling, I drop the innocent act, and walk inside as though I own the place. I hear Snape muttering something behind me, and when I glance over my shoulder, I see all of my suitcases floating in after me. Somewhere off to the side, a woman gasps, and mutters, \"I\'m sorry, Marilyn, but I must be going now... Visitors.\"

Eyes landing again on Potter, I see that he staring rather openly at me. I am wearing somewhat tight black pants and a midnight blue button-up shirt made of silk. Also, I have been growing out my hair for quite some time, so that it brushes against the middle of my neck, and I have it free from its usual confines. \"Checking me out, are you, Potter?\" I ask silkily, arching a perfect eyebrow. He narrows his bottle-green eyes at me and opened his mouth to say something, but was again disrupted by an appalled \"Harry, you\'re a queer?!\" from the woman who spoke earlier. The fat man then replied in an angry mutter, \"I wouldn\'t put it past him, the freak that he is... He\'d better stay away from my Dudley, if he knows what\'s good for him.\"

Even though I am quite pleased to see Potter treated like this, as though he is nothing but scum, I also feel my temper rising at their ignorance. Bloody Hell, he is a Wizard! And no matter who he is, no matter how much I hate his guts, it\'s sickening to see a Wizard treated in such a way by Muggles.

And why doesn\'t he do anything about it?!

Feeling disgusted, I turn back to my Godfather. He has already closed the door, and is looking at the Muggles with obvious distaste. Dressed in loose black slacks and a black wool turtleneck, a long trench coat of the same over that, he looks surprisingly good-- a lot better from how he usually looks in his robes, that\'s for sure. He walks over to me, his stride full of purpose.

\"You Muggles will be taking in Draco Malfoy for the rest of the summer,\" Snape says, glaring at the fat man as he tries to interrupt. \"This, in case you can\'t put two and two together, is Draco,\" he waves his hand at me, \"You do not need to know the reason he must stay here; you will just do it. Also know that he will be contacting me once a week for reports on how you treat him, so I advise you to... play nice.\"

The expression on the Muggles\' faces is priceless, and I don\'t try to hide my amusement. They obviously don\'t know what to do; my Godfather didn\'t give them many options to choose from. The man and the woman look both frightened and angry, the man turning a sickly shade of marroon and the woman pale, bitting down on her bottom lip hard. When she notices what she is doing, she releases the flesh; blood trickles from the wound and she shakily wipes it away. Smirking, I cock my head to an angle, and I glance at Potter. He, too, looks pale, his Avada Kedavra green wide as he realizes what is going on. Clearing my throat to catch his attention, I give him a look that plainly said that I didn\'t want to be there, either.

\"I will be allowed to use magic, won\'t I,\" I ask my Godfather, looking back to him. He rolls his impossibly black eyes and confirms my seemingly innocent question, \"Yes, you will be able to use your wand... As will Potter.\"

My mouth drops open at the last part, my cool composure gone. Putting myself back together, I say, my voice disbelieving, \"What?! Why will Potter be able to? He\'s going to hex me \'till next Thursday if you let him!\"

\"Just like you would do to him if you were the only one able to use magic. But believe me, this is purely Dumbledore\'s idea,\" he pauses, flicking his cold eyes to Potter. I follow his gaze, and see that the boy already has his wand out, and is studying it with a mixture of wonder and disbelief.

When Potter opens his mouth to speak, Snape quickly continues, \"However, I will need both of your wands for a short while.\"

Shrugging, I toss my wand over. Seeing that Potter is looking at my Godfather with obvious distrust, hugging the wand to his chest, I drawl, \"Go ahead, Wonder Boy. Keep the bloody thing. The more fun I will have, since you won\'t be able to use-\" Before I could finish, Potter tossed it to Snape.

Narrowing his cold black eyes, my Godfather tosses it back. \"Manners, Potter. Or did spending time with a bunch of Neanderthals take a toll on your common sense? I am still your Professor, and you will hand me the wand right.\"

Gritting his teeth, Potter walked over to Snape. Once directly in front, he bowed down mockingly at the waist, and then pretty much shoved the wand into my Godfather\'s hands. \"You\'re Majesty,\" Potter growls. Trying to smother a chuckle, I finally take a look around the room.

(Wow... talk about clean.) It is almost scary, how everything is polished to perfection. The carpet looks fresh, the coffee table in front of the couch practically gleaming under the light. Not a speck of dust mars the surface of the large black box (I wonder what that is), and the fireplace is ash-free, seemingly unused. There are many pictures, all of them containing the man, the woman, and a teenage boy that looks stragely akin to a baby whale. The boy is in most of the photos, in fact. Blinking in surprise, I notice that all of the pictures are strangely still. (Now that\'s scary.) I also notice that Potter isn\'t in any one of the pictures. Turning my back to the people, letting my Godfather handle everything and pretty much tuning their voices out, I study the photos hung on the wall. Emoremore pictures of the whale... a few wedding pictures... one of an ugly Muggle woman and her dog... but no Potter. It\'s like he doesn\'t even live here.

\"What are you doing here, Malfoy?\" comes a hiss behind me. I tense immediately, practically jumping into the air. Covering up my shock with a self-assured smirk, I turn around to face Potter. \"That\'s no way to treat a guest, Potter,\" I say, flicking my eyes away to look for my Godfather. Seeing no one, not even the Muggles, I frown. (What the Hell?)

\"Looking for Snape?\" he asks, fire burning behind his green eyes. \"Vernon and Petunia went to show him my room, for some reason,\" he continues, ignoring the thick lock of hair that fell into his face.

\"Hm... yes, probably setting a few charms, fixing up out wands...\" I say in a low voice, though more to myself than to Potter. Realizing that the boy is rather close to me, I do little to hide the disgust in my eyes as I push him away. \"Sod off, Potter. You should know by now that I don\'t want you that way, no matter how hard you try.\"

His eyes harden suddenly, and I can see his hands flexing and loosening from the bottom of my vision. \"Why are you here?!\" he asks, more forceful this time, more determined to get the answer out of me. I chuckle, shrugging with one should.

\"You heard Snape. I\'m here to stay for the rest of the summer,\" I say, almost casually. However, a few seconds later, I curse rather colorfully under my breath and lean against the wall, realizing for the second time what I am in store for. \"I don\'t want to be here, Potter, in case you haven\'t noticed. Being around these filthy Muggles, having to stay in the same house as my sworn fucking enemy... It\'s enough to make a guy sick,\" I say, flicking my eyes briefly to the stairs, wanting my Godfather to hurry the Hell up.

\"What the Fuck about me?!\" Potter suddenly exclaims. \"I have to live with these \'filthy Muggles\', and suddenly I am told that I have to spend my entire vacation with a self-centered Slytherin prat!\" He shoves his hands into his baggy pockets, working his jaw. His eyes are no longer on me; they are glaring daggers at the innocent carpet.

\"Plus, there\'s another person who isn\'t here right now; my cousin... You saw the pictures, he\'s the one who looks like a troll; and believe me, he has the mental capacity of one, \" he mutters sourly, still not looking at me.

Rather surprised the bitterness laced through Potter\'s words, I say nothing, despite the fact that there are many come-backs flashing through my mind (... Then you should get along with him great, huh Potter?... Not very different from your usual friends... Should make you feel right at home... Of course, he\'s related to you...).

A few rather tense seconds tick by (literally, they tick, I can hear it somewhere in the room) before the door slams open, followed by a loud \"Mother, I\'m-\" that is cut off by a soft gasp.

Attention now at the creature who has burst through the door, I straighten up, and send him a look that plainly said that I was a) better than him, and b) I know it.

The minuature (barely) troll\'s mouth opens, then closes, then opens. Obviously the stupid git doesn\'t know what to say. Arching an eyebrow at him, I wait; this doesn\'t seem very different than when I\'m around Crabe and Goyle. However, at the sight of a painfully apparent blush on the Muggle\'s fleshy pink cheeks, I laugh harshly.

Beside me, Potter gasps. \"Oh, damn...\" he whispers to himself, and when I flick my eyes to him, I see that he is looking at the minuature whale with pity, though that does little to hide the hatred he feels for the boy.

\"I have that sort of effect on people, Potter,\" I say smugly, though when I look back to the Muggle, I feel rather sick. \"However, I wish I didn\'t have that sort of effect on this particular person,\" I mutter, more to myself than to anyone else to my room.

\"H-harry, who is... he,\" the boy says in awe. He is looking at me as though I am some sort of god. Not that I blame him, of course.

\"Why don\'t you ask him?\" Potter snaps, though two seconds later he answers the Muggle\'s question: \"His name\'s Draco Malfoy,\" he spits out my name as though it is some sort of poison.

\"Oh, you know you love me, Potter,\" I say, words dripping in sarcasm. \"Well, at least the Muggle does,\" d ind in with a smirk.

\"Dr-Draco? Draco Malfoy...\" the said Muggle repeats, his face now completely red. His beady eyes are still on me, and I am starting to feel rather creeped out by him. Though I do enjoy having people worshipping me, he\'s not my ideal groupie. In fact, he\'s far from it.

\"And who the Hell are you, Muggle?\" I ask, feeling a bit exasperated at his slowness.

Again, the Muggle\'s mouth opens, then closes, then opens again. When he shows no sign of actually saying something, Potter pipes up, chuckling: \"That\'s Dudley. Or as Petunia calls him, Dudleykins.\"

This time, Dudley\'s face reddens for a different reason, turning a peculiar shade of marroon. He looks a lot like the man whom I presume is his father. Tilting my head to the side, I say, \"He doesn\'t look so well.\"

Half a second later, the piggie is running pell mell towards Potter.

Now, that is something I definitely didn\'t expect. After all, not many people suddenly decided to attack Potter, other than very powerful wizards (such as myself). Seeing a Muggle launch himself at The-Boy-Who lived is quite interesting, to say the least.

Potter dashes off to the side, using his Seeker nimbleness. The troll-like Muggle was muttering something about \"...humiliating me...\" and \"I\'ll show you...\" and \"...Father will have your head...\"

Very amusing stuff, really.

However, before Dudley could even lay a finger on Potter-- and I assure you, he was no where close-- an annoyed \"Winguardium Leviosa\" rang through the air, followed by a pig-like squeal.

Hey, look; the whale floats!

Dudley\'s watery eyes are wide with fear, and he is flapping his arms like some sort of bird. The sounds emmiting from his throat are quite amusing, and quite suddenly, he begins to spin. At first, it starts slow, then faster. Though I part of me is worried that the Muggle will puke, I still can\'t stop myself from laughing.

I hear Potter laughing as well, above the horrified shrieks coming from the Muggle parents. When I glance over, I see that Potter is holding on to his sides, and practically on his knees with the force of the laughter. The satisfied gleam in his tear-filled eyes plainly says that he has been wanting for so long to do somethlikelike that to his cousin.

But as they say, fun doesn\'t last forever, and my Godfather slowly lowers the trembling boy to the ground. Once the baby whale\'s shaky feet land, the skinny woman- Petunia, I presume- throws herself at him, hugging him tight and smothering him with kisses. Vernon- the father, I think- isn\'t as fast, but still gets to his son in seconds, and begins to mimick his wife\'s actions.

Eyes back on Snape, I arch an eyebrow, nodding at the scene in front of us. Lips curled back in distaste, he walks over to me, after having to walk a half circle around the family. Placing my wand into my hands, he says, \"I must be going now. Everything here is taken care of; they will be letting you live here.\" My Godfather pauses, sending a chilling glance to the Dursleys. \"They\'re hearts are ruled by greed and false idols. Dumbledore was right when he said to go exchange a large amount of our currency into what the Muggles use. Even with their fear, they would not have accepted you before pay.\"

He stops talking abruptly, his attention fixed on something behind me. Glancing over my shoulder, I see Potter is staring at us, curiosity shinning in his green eyes. After glaring daggers at Potter, and tossing the wand carelessly over, Snape turns back to the family. They have calmed down a bit, now watching us with pure unadultered fear.

He clears his throat. \"Remember, he will be contacting me weekly. If any of his reports are even a tad bit less than satisfactory, I will be coming back.\"

With that said, he pats me briefly on my head, and chuckles at the cold look I send him. He turns swiftly on the heels of his bo and and crosses the living room to the door.

I watch my Godfather walk away, his black trench coat billowing, his greasy hair shinning underneath the light, and I feel my lips curl into a sneer. \"Lead the way to my room, Potter,\" I say just as the door slams shut.

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Author\'s Note(again): For the next chapter, I am going to have Harry wake up in the middle of the night, only to see o dro dreaming. But I am having a bit of trouble figuring out whether I want Draco to have a wet-dream or a nightmare. It would be great for Draco to have a wet-dream, simply because that would start in the yaoi goodness (and because I am a pervert). But then again, my other favorite subgenre is angst, soo... *sighs* Help me out, will you?