Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

What's in a name?	By : Goblinking85 Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 1940 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do NOT own Harry Potter or any of the characters. I just take them out for a spin now and again. I make no money from this story. Slash (eventually), story first. :P Sorry Lemon seekers. Cannon until the Battle of Hogwarts.

Chapter List
- 1-What's in a name?
- 1
Authors note: This is my first time writing and posting a story. I would like to know if people think it is interesting enough to read. My writing partner will also be posting this on FF.net, her name is Hikaru-Hitachiin26. Thank you for the feedback. I hope you enjoy!
Italics = thoughts
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Is it worth it? This pen pal, I feel like maybe I’ve done something wrong. I didn’t mean to. Harry got up from where he sat and started pacing the house he’d bought after his NEWT examinations. He could hardly believe it had been five years since he had won the quidditch cup and he had his first kiss with Ginny. How things have changed. Ginny hardly talks to me anymore. When she does, she just nags me about every little thing. Harry let out a deep, soul shaking sigh. What happens now? Four years since Snape had sacrificed himself for the one he loved. I know all about how that feels. Tom had been destroyed by his own spell and Harry was supposed to live happily ever after with the woman that he loved. My entire being is telling me that she isn’t the one, but Ron would never forgive me if I hurt his sister. Three years since he, like most of his year mates, had taken their NEWT finals and he no longer had to be in contact with the likes of Draco Malfoy. Is it worth being this miserable? Merlin, why do I have to be engaged to her! Two years since he had proposed to Ginevra Weasley in front of her whole family. What was I thinking! One month from today, according to the Daily Prophet, Harry James Potter would finally have his happy ever after. Things could not get any worse.
Harry walked over to the bay window and watched as the wind whipped the branches of a willow tree in every direction. That’s my favorite tree, so of course the wind is trying to destroy it. He made sure to have a chair at this particular window; because the view usually has a calming effect on his nerves. He would sit and reminisce about picnics with Ron and Hermione, under that very tree. He liked to imagine his godfather and his parents sitting under it as they discussed how he was doing in his life. The conversation today, however, would most likely center around how his pen pal knew him better than his own fiancé. Then it would probably venture into how he didn't love the woman he was marrying. He let these thoughts fade away like the droplets that ran down the clear window panes. Looks almost like tears…
Unbeknownst to Harry, a cloaked figure stood just beyond the willow, watching as he paced around his study. As Harry turned to sit back down at his desk, he picked up a phoenix feather quill; it was the only thing he had of Dumbledore’s that wasn't destroyed in the final battle. He kept it as a constant reminder of those he lost at the hands of Riddle. The writing on the parchment underneath his hand seemed to have the words he was dying to say.
Dear Mana'o'i'o Kelekona,
I know you keep asking to meet with me, but I don't think that is the best idea. I have strong feelings for you, stronger than you will ever know. I just don’t trust myself and I can’t risk losing control with you. I'm so very sorry.

Harry
A small groan came from the brunette as he crumpled the letter and threw it into the fire next to his desk. Back to square one. Harry watched as the parchment burnt with a bright blue flame. It seemed to crackle with an unspoken vow to never divulge the secrets that were written upon it. The cloaked figure watched as Harry threw the letter into the fire and waited with baited breath for him to lose interest in its fate.
When Harry returned to his writing, the man whispered a spell and the ashes flew out of the chimney and recreated the letter in his hands. The fire betrayed you Potter. Harry didn't know that the flame was manipulated, maybe he never would. Grey eyes flashed across the letter, trying to read it quickly before the rain caused the ink to smear. You really should ward your house better, but I’m glad you don’t. A genuine smile appeared on the pale face when he saw the feeling in the letter. He turned in a circle feeling sensation of apparating. This feeling never gets any easier. The figure mused as the world spun.
Harry heard the tell-tail crack of someone apparating outside of his house. He hurried out of his study, opened his back door, and ventured into the storm. Who could that have been? Ginny won't be here for a while yet. Harry was feeling pretty irritable as he walked further out into the rain. What am I saying! He saw something glinting on the ground and walked over to it. She only comes by when she needs something. As he leaned down and reached for it, there was another crack. Harry spun around while drawing his wand, only to hear "Stupify."
"Damn it! You would find it, wouldn’t you?" Malfoy growled, as he picked Potter up and carried him back into the house. Cursing at himself mentally, he walked up the stairs and headed in the direction he believed the bedroom was located. “It’s not like I can ask for a tour”, Draco mused to the passed out brunette in his arms. He slowly entered the others bedroom and used a drying charm before laying Potter on the deep purple velvet comforter. Draco observed the silver curtains that hung around the bed. I half expected them to be red. He carefully moved the brunettes’ bangs out of his face. “That was foolish of me, leaving that behind” he murmured softly. I have to time this perfectly. Draco walked over to the fireplace, threw in some floo powder, and pointed his wand at Harry. “Rennervate, Cunfundus” he called out. Hoping that would give him enough time, Draco stepped into the fire and said "Malfoy Manor", just as Harry sat up and rubbed his scar in confusion. Green eyes locked with the grey, but Harry was still Cunfunded enough to not be able to focus or understand who was in his fire. He scrambled for his wand anyway, but by the time he had it, the figure was gone and he was left wondering if he had just imagined it.
~~~~
Draco let out a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding. He looked right at me, but I don’t think he saw. He never does. He brushed the ashes off of himself as he walked out of the entrance hall fireplace. Father is so paranoid. The Manor wards are keyed to our blood, yet he insists that we only use this fireplace. He was fairly certain that his father did this as a constant reminder of what he had and what he stood to lose for disobedience. Lavish colors and decorations surrounded Draco. Everywhere he looked there were expensive ornaments that were much older than him. This room, like the rest of the manor, was made to impress and intimidate, much like the man standing in front of him. Well damn. This is not my night.
“Where have you been at this late hour?” It was said with the perfect mask of indifference, but Lucius’ eyes betrayed his annoyance. Having been with his father for most of his life, Draco knew he had better tread carefully. “Is there something wrong father? I was not aware you required my presence this evening.” He made no motion to move further into the room, as that would bring him closer to his obviously agitated father. What could possibly have happened to cause fathers’ perfect Malfoy mask to slip this badly? “There are several things wrong Draco. First, I am the head of this house and as such I demand to be notified when my family will not be present for preset engagements such as dinner.” You’re throwing a tantrum because I missed dinner?! “Secondly, as the sole heir to the Malfoy fortune, it is unwise to be off the manor property this late at night.” This must be an alternate fucking reality. Either that or I’m dead. That’s must be it. Potter killed me. “Last and most importantly, you are well aware that I have begun negotiations for your marriage contract. You were to be in my study this evening to discuss potential mothers for the heir you will provide. You have not done any of these things. So I ask you again and hope the answer is a good one, for your sake, where have you been at this late hour?”
I take that back. I wish Potter had killed me. Draco was well aware that no answer would be good enough. Nothing he did was ever good enough for his father. He had missed dinners before without so much as an eye twitch in his direction. He would have liked to point out that he was a grown man and thought a curfew was ridiculous. He had also tried to explain in the past how he didn’t want to get married. The last had ended with a back hand and a long lecture about “family duty”. With all of this information before him, Draco knew there was only one thing he could do. “I have no suitable excuse for missing an engagement with you father, I’m terribly sorry.” He said it in the preprogramed Malfoy fashion: cold, calculating, and with no hint of remorse. It seemed to satisfy his father though as he didn’t pursue the subject further.
“A matter has come to my attention of the utmost importance and as such, you are not to venture out of the manor until further notice. This decision is non-negotiable.” The finality of Lucius’s words and the conviction of his voice rang in Draco’s ears like the clang of a cell door locking him in. He stared at his father for a moment more before giving a curt nod of his head. “Yes father. May I be excused? It seems that it is past my bedtime.” He knew he was walking a fine line when Lucius’s eyes flashed dangerously. “Goodnight Draco. Do be careful, the wards have locked us in, there must be a threat nearby.” I can recognize a threat when I see one, father.
Back in the safety of his room, Draco allowed himself a moment of weakness. He grabbed the nearest decoration he could see and threw it at the wall with all his might. The resulting smash made him feel a little better, at least for a moment. That was a gift from Mother. Damn it! See what happens when I let feelings out. A growl from the direction of his bed told Draco he was in trouble. He walked over to the mess, cast a quick “Reparo”, and set the crystal dragon back on the table. He allowed himself a moment to look around his room. The color scheme was emerald green, his favorite color, with some light blue mixed in. Unlike Potter’s room, this reflected his old Hogwarts house better. Not that he gave a damn about Slytherin anymore, but it was an easy excuse.
When Draco finally looked to his bed, where a big ball of fur had been sleeping a moment ago, eight pairs of eyes stared at him. I’ve upset my babies too. The only warm blooded creatures on this earth who knew the real Draco, his three ferrets and the Minskin kitten he had adopted. Hades, the black and mostly hairless kitten, was currently trying to fall back asleep underneath his adopted dad and brother. It was the only thing that had calmed the poor rejected kitten down, his first night in Draco’s room, and the habit had stuck. Kai, a two year old sable male, and his son didn’t seem to mind. Kaimana, who was an almost all black kit, rather enjoyed the company of little Hades. Draco’s biggest problem was Kai’s near albino mate, He’e Nalu. She was the granddaughter of Draco’s first ferret and three times the average size. Her name meant “Big Wave” and it looked like he was about to get splashed for waking the babies. “I’m sorry Nalu, father just grounded me and I forgot myself for a moment.” He sat down on his bed and pet behind her ears until her angry chattering died down. She nuzzled Draco’s hand, gave it an affectionate nip, and lay back down with her family. She knows I’m not ready to sleep. In fact, I need to sort out my thoughts before I can rest.
The most mundane of objects in Draco’s room, an English oak wardrobe, happened to be his favorite. Not because it was the most expensive thing he owned, though it was, but because it kept Draco safe. Where most people put their clothes, he put his life. Thoughts, feelings, and ideas all locked away in that simple looking wardrobe. Draco kept journals; they took the place of friends. “Malfoy’s do not have friends, we have servants. We do not show emotions. Emotion is weakness and Malfoy’s are not weak.” His father would always tell him these things, but never how he, at the time merely a child, was supposed to cope with the loneliness. Make no mistake, Draco was incredibly lonely. The only reason he survived was his wonderful mother.
Flashback-
The morning of Draco’s fifth birthday, his home was raided by ministry officials. They came in, yelling at his father to stand aside, and tore through the entire manor. The excuse was that Lucius had been seen in Knockturn Alley, but usually that didn’t constitute a full raid. It was the first time Draco heard words like “Death Eater scum”. He was scared, so one of the men tried to comfort him. His father used another new phrase as he yanked Draco away from the red-headed man, “blood traitor”. Once the officials left, a spanking taught him that all red-heads were “blood traitors” and bad for the magical world. His father had said he was going to Gringott’s and did not return home until long after Draco had gone to bed. His mother, on the other hand, had comforted him and continued with his birthday as though nothing had happened. That night, as Draco lay sleeping with his new ferret kit curled under his chin and his new journal by his hand, his father had the old oak wardrobe placed into his room.
End Flashback-
Draco’s mother gifted him with his first friend, a ferret he named Prince. More importantly, she presented him with an emotional outlet. Through writing, he wouldn’t lose himself completely to the harsh expectations of being a Malfoy. It was, ironically enough, his father who provided Draco with the means to keep his secrets safe, even from Lucius himself. The wardrobe was obviously an antique; however, it didn’t look like anything out of the ordinary. The magic it held inside made it quite extraordinary however, for it was undefeatable. Not to be confused with unbreakable, but it did have many spells on it to make it difficult to destroy. If a person tried to open the wardrobe without the proper key, as well as the password, the items held within would be destroyed. This would defeat the purpose of prying into it to begin with. The only thing spared from this destruction would be a living creature. Lucius gave it to Draco as a last resort to preserve his only heir. He cared, even if the reasons were selfish, about the welfare of his child.
Draco got off of his bed, being careful not to upset his peacefully sleeping furry family again, and walked to his wardrobe. He used the key that he had taken from Harry’s unconscious hand not an hour before and grabbed his most recent journal, pausing briefly to look at the box of letters kept separate from everything else. Death threats were a common thing for all of the inhabitants of Malfoy Manor, especially after the acquittals of Draco and his mother. If people thought this was unfair, it was nothing to the public outrage of his father being sentenced to 20 years of magically monitored house arrest. The way Lucius acted sometimes made Draco think he would have preferred Azkaban then to be indebted to Harry Potter. These particular threats Draco kept. They were not being delivered by owls, which meant they were not being stopped by the Manor wards. The Malfoys could not trace the letters either. They just started showing up, inside the Manor, which made Draco’s mother uneasy. It was a warning that Draco was determined to figure out.
16 August 2001:
This feels like obsession bordering on madness sometimes. I’m sure there were more logical ways for me to approach the encounter with Harry tonight, yet my first instinct was still to stupify him! My Malfoy and Slytherin teaching would have me more comfortable sneaking around Potters’ house, then to actually confront him with why I was there. Why I’m always there. Too much pride perhaps or not enough courage; both I expect are true. How do I unlearn something that has kept me alive for so long? I feel I’m doomed to exist in my life of lies and only truly live through my pseudonym. It’s the only way I can study in peace and it seems the only way I can touch Harry without pain.
When he finished writing, Draco took the slightly damp letter from his pocket, dried it with a spell, and tucked it into the most recent entry to his journal. This was how he kept track of Harry’s letters. Potter didn’t have enough etiquette to even put a date on his letters. Draco put his journal back and locked his wardrobe. After an internal debate on the merit of rain water in his hair and on his silk sheets, he took a quick shower. Drying off, donning sleep pants, and climbing into bed happened in a blur. Draco lay there trying to sleep; the furry pile of animals shifted to include him in their warmth, and he relaxed and drifted almost instantly.
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What's in a name?