Like Ripples In a Pond
folder
Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male › Harry/Draco
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
5
Views:
3,679
Reviews:
11
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
2
Category:
Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male › Harry/Draco
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
5
Views:
3,679
Reviews:
11
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
2
Disclaimer:
I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Chapter Two
***
~ Chapter Two ~
July 31st 1991, London, UK- Diagon Alley- Madam Malkin’s Robes For All Occasions
Harry watched Hagrid walk away towards the pub, his stomach roiling in an unpleasant way that had nothing to do with the mad underground cart ride in Gringotts. He allowed Madam Malkin to guide him to one of the footstools, nervous amongst all these strangers without Hagrid as a guide and buffer. He tried to stamp down on the butterflies in his stomach to no avail; they seemed to have minds of their own.
Another boy was also being fitted for school robes on the stool next to Harry. He had white-blond hair and a pale, pointed face.
“Hello,” said the boy, “Hogwarts, too?”
“Yes,” said Harry.
… An errant breeze abruptly blew the door to the shop open, causing the bell hanging on the frame above it to give a -jingle-jangle-jing-. As the wind gusted into the room, it carried with it a few leaves, the smell of exotic spices, and a vibrant example of a butterfly. The insect began to dart around the heads of customers and the shop assistants fitting them. As the jewel-winged sprite reached Harry, the tiny air currents from its wings managed to disrupt his hair, lifting it a little ways off his forehead…
Harry couldn’t hold back a grin as he watched the flighty creature. Funny, he thought with amusement, I was just thinking of butterflies! This one must have escaped from my stomach! He had been so shy and reserved just a moment ago, but those feelings seemed to have vanished in the breeze. He felt as light as air now.
Unnoticed by Harry, the blond boy had seen what the work of the butterfly had revealed. Lightning scar? Could it be…? His eyed widened, and then narrowed calculatingly. He fiercely tried to recall all his father’s teachings; cunning would be of the essence here.
“My name’s Malfoy, Draco Malfoy,” the pale boy offered with utmost casualness.
Harry turned, the capricious insect forgotten. “I’m Harry Potter,” he replied, smile still spread wide on his face.
A few gasps sounded into the yawning silence that dropped like a blanket over the room’s occupants, and then the whispering started up.
“Did he call himself Potter?”
“The Boy-Who-Lived, right here!”
Harry winced, his happy expression dimming a little. He had heard enough of that all day, from strange wizards and witches all dying to get a look at him. He didn’t like this sudden attention; it was only a few days ago that he was just Harry; who slept in a cupboard and had no friends. Harry, who nobody ever noticed.
Sharp silver eyes took in every detail of his reaction while giving scant away, the face remaining passive as if nothing out of the ordinary was going on.
“Nice to meet you, Harry,” said Draco, with a rare smile of his own, holding out his hand to shake Harry’s.
… The universe seemed to hold its breath, waiting for something…
Harry reached out his hand and took the one offered to him, shaking it gratefully; so glad that this boy didn’t seem to care about his supposed fame.
“Same here, Draco,” Harry replied, grinning once more, his good mood fully restored.
… On a burst of wind that might have sounded like an exhalation of relief, had anyone been listening for it, a lovely butterfly flew away out of the suddenly open front door. Its task for today was accomplished …
For the first time in many a year, Draco found himself at a near loss for a topic of conversation. What would be safest? If his father was right, and he always was, Harry Potter knew nothing of their world. Their informants were very reliable. Speaking of Wizarding things that Harry didn’t understand would only alienate him; and mentioning the Dark Lord is what everyone would do.
Malfoys were anything but plebian.
“So, who are you here with today?” Draco settled on a mostly neutral subject, all this inner discussion taking place in the blink of an eye.
Harry found nothing wrong with this question. “A very nice man named Hagrid is helping me. He’s the one who brought me my letter after I didn’t… reply to any of the others, and took me from my… aunt and uncle to get my school supplies.”
Draco noticed the places where other words could have been, and knew enough to read between what was actually said. Inwardly, he raised an eyebrow. Others, plural? Why more than one letter? And his face when he mentioned his relatives… Outside, he carried on amiably.
“I’m here with my father. He’s next door buying me books, and afterwards we’re going to get my wand.” Draco saw something through the huge picture window and brightened. “Here he comes now!”
-Jingle-jangle-jing-
The tall man made a striking entrance, framed for a moment in the doorway with the sunlight streaming in behind him. White-blond hair the same color as Draco’s fell straight past his shoulders. His eyes were a similar shade of grey, but when he moved his head at a certain angle, they caught the light and appeared almost blue. He was dressed from top to bottom in precisely tailored black robes.
In one hand he carried a black walking cane topped with a lifelike silver snake that had flashing emeralds for eyes, though his fluidity of movement suggested that it was more for appearance than necessity. Floating docilely along in midair behind him, like little faithful pets, came several brown-wrapped packages which could only contain schoolbooks.
The man made a visual scan of the room, his glance coming across Draco, and for the first time warmth entered his expression. He walked over to where his son stood on the stool, stopping in front of him. The books came along too, obediently bobbing at their master’s heels like ducklings after their mother.
Lucius Malfoy smiled softly at his son, a smile full of indulgence and hints of something else, managing to convey more with a look than any amount of touch.
“Draco, I trust you’re almost through here?”
Draco beamed triumphantly. “Hello, Father! I’d like to introduce you to my new friend, Harry Potter. Harry, this is my father, Lucius Malfoy.” Draco’s eyes spoke volumes to someone who knew how to read them as well as Lucius did.
Well now, what an unexpected development. Lucius was much too practiced a politician to reveal the surprise that he was feeling.
“How do you do, Mr. Potter? I am glad to see my son has found someone new to talk with.” He offered Harry his hand with all the dignity he would give to an equal.
At this, Draco’s eyes widened minutely, but he made no comment.
Harry took no notice of this byplay as he shook hands again. “I’m fine, thank you, Mr. Malfoy,” he replied, smiling politely. “Your son has been very nice, sir.”
Lucius barely bit back the retort, My son? Are you sure? He simply nodded graciously, and turned to Draco once more.
“Draco, we really must try to look at wands today.”
The unobtrusive witch who knelt behind Draco, pinning up his hem, announced that he was indeed finished. Draco started to hop down, but glancing at his father, stepped off the stool slowly and carefully.
“I’ll see you on the train then shall I, Harry?” At Harry’s confused look he added, “The Hogwarts Express, I meant. Platform 9 ¾, between 9 and 10. Just walk right through, don’t be afraid.” Draco gave a friendly wave and started to leave.
Mr. Malfoy nodded briefly to Harry again before following his son out onto the street once more, the buoyant chain of books coming not far behind.
“Bye! It was nice meeting you!” Harry called after them.
Even after Hagrid’s subsequent arrival with ice cream, and the gift of his new pet snowy owl, Harry felt a glow of happiness inside to which none of it could compare. Someone had called him their friend. His very first friend!
Nothing, not even going back to the Dursleys for another month, could take that feeling away.
***
~ Chapter Two ~
July 31st 1991, London, UK- Diagon Alley- Madam Malkin’s Robes For All Occasions
Harry watched Hagrid walk away towards the pub, his stomach roiling in an unpleasant way that had nothing to do with the mad underground cart ride in Gringotts. He allowed Madam Malkin to guide him to one of the footstools, nervous amongst all these strangers without Hagrid as a guide and buffer. He tried to stamp down on the butterflies in his stomach to no avail; they seemed to have minds of their own.
Another boy was also being fitted for school robes on the stool next to Harry. He had white-blond hair and a pale, pointed face.
“Hello,” said the boy, “Hogwarts, too?”
“Yes,” said Harry.
… An errant breeze abruptly blew the door to the shop open, causing the bell hanging on the frame above it to give a -jingle-jangle-jing-. As the wind gusted into the room, it carried with it a few leaves, the smell of exotic spices, and a vibrant example of a butterfly. The insect began to dart around the heads of customers and the shop assistants fitting them. As the jewel-winged sprite reached Harry, the tiny air currents from its wings managed to disrupt his hair, lifting it a little ways off his forehead…
Harry couldn’t hold back a grin as he watched the flighty creature. Funny, he thought with amusement, I was just thinking of butterflies! This one must have escaped from my stomach! He had been so shy and reserved just a moment ago, but those feelings seemed to have vanished in the breeze. He felt as light as air now.
Unnoticed by Harry, the blond boy had seen what the work of the butterfly had revealed. Lightning scar? Could it be…? His eyed widened, and then narrowed calculatingly. He fiercely tried to recall all his father’s teachings; cunning would be of the essence here.
“My name’s Malfoy, Draco Malfoy,” the pale boy offered with utmost casualness.
Harry turned, the capricious insect forgotten. “I’m Harry Potter,” he replied, smile still spread wide on his face.
A few gasps sounded into the yawning silence that dropped like a blanket over the room’s occupants, and then the whispering started up.
“Did he call himself Potter?”
“The Boy-Who-Lived, right here!”
Harry winced, his happy expression dimming a little. He had heard enough of that all day, from strange wizards and witches all dying to get a look at him. He didn’t like this sudden attention; it was only a few days ago that he was just Harry; who slept in a cupboard and had no friends. Harry, who nobody ever noticed.
Sharp silver eyes took in every detail of his reaction while giving scant away, the face remaining passive as if nothing out of the ordinary was going on.
“Nice to meet you, Harry,” said Draco, with a rare smile of his own, holding out his hand to shake Harry’s.
… The universe seemed to hold its breath, waiting for something…
Harry reached out his hand and took the one offered to him, shaking it gratefully; so glad that this boy didn’t seem to care about his supposed fame.
“Same here, Draco,” Harry replied, grinning once more, his good mood fully restored.
… On a burst of wind that might have sounded like an exhalation of relief, had anyone been listening for it, a lovely butterfly flew away out of the suddenly open front door. Its task for today was accomplished …
For the first time in many a year, Draco found himself at a near loss for a topic of conversation. What would be safest? If his father was right, and he always was, Harry Potter knew nothing of their world. Their informants were very reliable. Speaking of Wizarding things that Harry didn’t understand would only alienate him; and mentioning the Dark Lord is what everyone would do.
Malfoys were anything but plebian.
“So, who are you here with today?” Draco settled on a mostly neutral subject, all this inner discussion taking place in the blink of an eye.
Harry found nothing wrong with this question. “A very nice man named Hagrid is helping me. He’s the one who brought me my letter after I didn’t… reply to any of the others, and took me from my… aunt and uncle to get my school supplies.”
Draco noticed the places where other words could have been, and knew enough to read between what was actually said. Inwardly, he raised an eyebrow. Others, plural? Why more than one letter? And his face when he mentioned his relatives… Outside, he carried on amiably.
“I’m here with my father. He’s next door buying me books, and afterwards we’re going to get my wand.” Draco saw something through the huge picture window and brightened. “Here he comes now!”
-Jingle-jangle-jing-
The tall man made a striking entrance, framed for a moment in the doorway with the sunlight streaming in behind him. White-blond hair the same color as Draco’s fell straight past his shoulders. His eyes were a similar shade of grey, but when he moved his head at a certain angle, they caught the light and appeared almost blue. He was dressed from top to bottom in precisely tailored black robes.
In one hand he carried a black walking cane topped with a lifelike silver snake that had flashing emeralds for eyes, though his fluidity of movement suggested that it was more for appearance than necessity. Floating docilely along in midair behind him, like little faithful pets, came several brown-wrapped packages which could only contain schoolbooks.
The man made a visual scan of the room, his glance coming across Draco, and for the first time warmth entered his expression. He walked over to where his son stood on the stool, stopping in front of him. The books came along too, obediently bobbing at their master’s heels like ducklings after their mother.
Lucius Malfoy smiled softly at his son, a smile full of indulgence and hints of something else, managing to convey more with a look than any amount of touch.
“Draco, I trust you’re almost through here?”
Draco beamed triumphantly. “Hello, Father! I’d like to introduce you to my new friend, Harry Potter. Harry, this is my father, Lucius Malfoy.” Draco’s eyes spoke volumes to someone who knew how to read them as well as Lucius did.
Well now, what an unexpected development. Lucius was much too practiced a politician to reveal the surprise that he was feeling.
“How do you do, Mr. Potter? I am glad to see my son has found someone new to talk with.” He offered Harry his hand with all the dignity he would give to an equal.
At this, Draco’s eyes widened minutely, but he made no comment.
Harry took no notice of this byplay as he shook hands again. “I’m fine, thank you, Mr. Malfoy,” he replied, smiling politely. “Your son has been very nice, sir.”
Lucius barely bit back the retort, My son? Are you sure? He simply nodded graciously, and turned to Draco once more.
“Draco, we really must try to look at wands today.”
The unobtrusive witch who knelt behind Draco, pinning up his hem, announced that he was indeed finished. Draco started to hop down, but glancing at his father, stepped off the stool slowly and carefully.
“I’ll see you on the train then shall I, Harry?” At Harry’s confused look he added, “The Hogwarts Express, I meant. Platform 9 ¾, between 9 and 10. Just walk right through, don’t be afraid.” Draco gave a friendly wave and started to leave.
Mr. Malfoy nodded briefly to Harry again before following his son out onto the street once more, the buoyant chain of books coming not far behind.
“Bye! It was nice meeting you!” Harry called after them.
Even after Hagrid’s subsequent arrival with ice cream, and the gift of his new pet snowy owl, Harry felt a glow of happiness inside to which none of it could compare. Someone had called him their friend. His very first friend!
Nothing, not even going back to the Dursleys for another month, could take that feeling away.
***