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A Wayward Dragon In Little Whinging	By : ChimaeraChan Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 9030 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 3
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 List
- 1-Ch 1
- 2-Ch 2
- 3-Ch 3
- 4-Ch 4
- 5-Ch 5
- 6-Ch 6
- 7-Ch 7
- 8-Ch 8
- 9-Ch 9
- 10-Ch 10
- 11-Ch 11
- 12-Ch 12
- 13-Ch 13
- 14-Ch 14
- 1
- 2
- 3
Chapter Two

“When did this happen?” I hand him my other donut. Sugar's going to help this. I'm not sure how, but I know it's true.
“What part?”
I give him a look, then regret it. His eyes are watery and somehow fucking extra beautiful. I look out at the field. “Just tell me everything you can.”
He takes a deep breath that sounds way too shaky. “Um, so let's see. I went home knowing this was the year. Father's been hinting, trying to feel me out on it. He knew I didn't want to do it, but, well, it's not really a choice thing.”
Pretty sure it is. You either get down on your knees and pledge your loyalty to Voldemort, or you get a wand to the head. Not a great choice, but it's a choice. I wisely keep my mouth shut.
“I found out just a few days ago...” He trails off, stretching his legs. “Bellatrix started asking me all these questions. Fucked up questions. Something you really don't want your psychotic bitch aunt to ask you.”
“Get to the point.”
“Fuck you. About sex. About what I like, what I've done already. If I can suck cock. I thought she was just fucking with my head—She's a total bitch.”
Can he suck cock? With a mouth like that...
“Then I find out that my mother's off to St. Mungo's. Just that night. The group of them had a little meeting and my mother's in the hospital, my aunt is suddenly staked out in the mansion asking me questions about cock, and my father is nowhere to be found.”
“Dead?”
He shakes his head sharply. “He came back later that night. Hurt. Scared... Never seen him scared before. He wouldn't tell me what happened, just said You-Know-Who has an 'unhealthy interest' in me.”
Fuck, I really can't blame Voldemort. The kid's a sex god.
“My aunt doesn't leave, and suddenly my father isn't allowed to be alone with me. She's like some rabid guard dog or something. But she's fucking cackling, like all the fucking time. Saying shit like how I'm going to be sucking snake dick until I'm dead, which will be soon because of what my mother did. But I don't know what my mother did, I just know that she's in the hospital and not responsive and things are getting fucking bat-shit scary and—”
“Chill. Breathe.” The kid is freaking out. “You're in a muggle park. No Death Eaters, no bitch aunt, no snake dicks. Take a breath.”
Do snakes have dicks?
He nods frantically, tearing small pieces off his chocolate donut. His fingers are a mess and I can't stop staring at them. I want to lick them. I really want to lick them. He's worried about being raped and killed by Voldemort, and I can't stop thinking about sex whenever I look at him. There's something fucked up with me. But it's early. Like morning wood, early.
He takes a huge breath, then another. His knee starts bouncing, shaking the damn merry go round and vibrating through my ass until all I can think about is him fucking me. There is no way he can stay with me. Maybe the Weasleys have a room. I'm going to do something stupid if he's around me all the time. I know it. No classmates or house fidelity to keep me thinking straight. I get fucked up in the head whenever I'm at the Dursleys as it is. He really shouldn't be around for that.
He continues, his voice empty, nearly numb. “My dad leaves me a portkey with a note to dress muggle. It dumps me in this back alley. Snape's there. He's blunt. My mother fucked up and my family will pay. You-Know-Who is going to ruin me, and it will be public. If I'm as loyal as fuck, he might let me live, but I'm still going to be screaming for years. Running will get me killed once I'm caught, and I'll probably be caught. But seriously, Potter? Much as I don't want to die, I don't want the fucker touching me.”
I wonder if Malfoy's seen Voldemort recently. I have. The dreams. The torture he inflicts. I've yet to see the guy ass rape someone, but I totally believe he'd do it. Even if he can't get it up, I'm sure he'd have something handy to do the job for him. Voldemort likes to improvise.
“Snape tells me your location. Warns me that... Well, you're going to be difficult as fuck.” He's looking at me but I refuse to rise to the bait. “Says you won't trust me. But that I'm going to have to do whatever I can, because you're the only one with a house warded against You-Know-Who. I guess it's a big fucking deal.”
It might be. I hate the Dursleys and I can't stop the dreams, even at their place, but I don't have to worry about Voldemort walking through the front door. It's something.
I look up as he stands. He moves in front of me, replacing my view of the quiet field, back lighting him in that fucking angelic light again. His eyes are still red, despair clear on his beautiful features. Seriously, fuck my life.
“So I'm here. Willing to do whatever the fuck it takes, Potter. I have nowhere else to go. Nowhere safe from him. He's probably going to kill my parents. Definitely my mother, if she's not dead already. I promise I won't be an asshole—Fuck, I won't say shit to you if that helps. I can, I don't know, clean or some shit. Whatever the fuck you want. I just really don't want to die.”
Would he fit in the cupboard? Could I hide Draco Malfoy in the cupboard under the stairs? He's taller than me now. I have the invisibility cloak. If Petunia gives me shit, I can always just hide him under the cloak... for a month. Huh.
Seriously? I'm actually considering this? I need to get in contact with Ron and find out if Narcissa Malfoy is actually in St. Mungo's. There's no way Snape will talk to me; it would jeapordize his spy status and his life. If I get an owl out now, Ron will likely answer it by, oh, ten or eleven, depending on when he wakes up. God I wish wizards would suck it up and get some fucking telephones. I think the Amish have more tech than they do.
He's still staring at me, hope and fear in his eyes. Crap. “Sit down, Malfoy.” Vernon will be off to work in less than an hour. I'd rather talk to Petunia without the blustering bastard interrupting. And if she says no, well, there's always the cloak. And the cupboard. Just don't think he'll fit.

Mothers do love Malfoy. It's bizarre as fuck. I walk in the kitchen with him in tow and Petunia, usually frosty eyed and stiff, smiles like the sun. Wow. She doesn't even say anything about him wearing boots in the house.
My goal is to play the guilt angle. Let her see his hunky face, mention the fact that he's got nowhere to go but plenty of cash to pay for room and board once we get his galleons switched over to something actually useful to muggles. I won't mention killer wizards unless things go bad. She's terrified of Voldemort. She was terrified of Lily and James, and when something bigger and badder killed them, she got even more afraid. I sometimes wonder if she had a nervous breakdown when it all happened. They don't talk about it, but she seems like the type.
“Aunt Petunia, I'd like you to meet my... friend.” Yeah, that sounds weird. “Drake.” He gives me a look I refuse to acknowledge. His name is way too wizard for the Dursleys.
Petunia actually steps around me to shake his hand. Like he's a person. I can't even imagine what the fuck that's like. Pretty people get everything, I guess. “I didn't think you had any friends.”
Ouch.
He smiles at me, 100 volts of snickering prat. “It's a pleasure to meet you, Petunia—Do you mind if I call you Petunia? It's a lovely name.” Gag me.
“Petunia is perfectly acceptable, dear. Have you had breakfast? I was just about to whip something up for my Dudley. I'd be more than happy to make you something as well.”
I stand back and watch the magic of Draco Malfoy charming my aunt. It's disgusting. He's amazing.
“Boy, did you want something?” Yup, I'm still 'boy.' But hey, a lot less frost than normal.
“I'm fine, Aunt Petunia. Thank you.” She gives me a look when I thank her. She knows something's up. No point drawing it out. “I have a request. A favor.”
She turns to the stove, pointedly cooking and not looking at me. Off to a great start.
“Drake needs a place to stay for a few weeks. He can pay his way, he's more than happy to, but it won't be until right before school. His mother became really ill, and his dad works all day and spends his nights at the hospital by her side.”
She turns at that, sympathy flashing in her eyes as she looks at Draco. He gives her a crooked, hanging in there smile tinged with sorrow. My god, he's good. I'm feeling totally played right now. If his eyes start watering, I'm going to know he was lying to me. I think.
“I understand it's short notice. Pot—Harry always said if I ever need a helping hand, he lives with good people with strong values. He even told me how you've been trying to help him. Straighten him out a bit. Keep him out of trouble. I daresay you have your work cut out for you.”
I should just go hang myself. My fucking rival of seven years, and angry aunt of forever talking about straightening me out. And they don't mean the gay. I don't think they mean the gay. It's not something that's really come up in conversation because I don't converse with these people. Ever.
“I'm afraid we don't have much room.” Holy hell, she's considering it.
Malfoy shoots a look my way, raising his brows like I'm supposed to jump in here. We could throw him in the bathroom. He could curl up in the bathtub and pull the shower curtain around for privacy. I'm sure it'll be fine.
“He'll bunk with me. I have that old sleeping bag.”
“Oh, but he's so delicate. He can't sleep on the floor. There's hardly any room in there to begin with.”
Seriously? She just spent five minutes with him and she's already giving him my bed. Talk about chopped liver. “I can take the floor,” I grunt, folding my arms over my chest. He flashes me a surprised look I also choose to ignore. I'm shorter—I'll be more likely to fit. And fuck, if it gets too weird, I can always try the fucking cupboard.
“Your bed's so lumpy, though.”
Fucking hell! If she buys him a new bed while I've been sleeping on that crap mattress for years—
“I'm sure it will be fine, Petunia. I'm just glad to not have to be home alone at night. I worry, and with my mother off in the hospital...” He gives another sad, surviving in pain expression that brings Aunt Petunia across the room to hug him. He shoots me a smug smile while I flip him off behind her back. Fucking deceitful little prat. Total skill.
“Oh, you're all skin and bones! How long have you been without a proper home-cooked meal? I'm going to take care of that right away.” Malfoy is not skin and bones. He's lithe, strong muscle and damn fine bone structure. She's used to fat as fuck and she better not ruin his perfection. “You go sit out in the living room. Dudley should be down any minute. I'm sure you'll be great friends.”
Like fuck.
I wait for him to leave, then stay to talk to her so we're clear on a few things. “He's underage and won't be performing any strangeness,” Aka, magic. “He won't be bringing anyone by, not even his parents. He's on his own. He doesn't understand everything, but he's polite, and he'll be quiet.”
“He has no bags,” she points out, like that's all she cares about when letting a wizard into her house. Fuck, he has no bags. No clothes, no things.
“I'll have to take him shopping. We can take the bus.”
“Don't be silly. Dudley's been dying to go out to the new mall. We'll make a day of it.”
My god, she really likes the prat. “Vernon isn't going to have any issue with all this?”
She waves her hand at me. “I think he'll be thrilled to have some culture in the house. It's good to know you're not completely a lost cause.”
Fucking hell. I wonder how she'd feel if she knew Malfoy had been days away from getting a tattoo on his arm symbolizing his willingness to hurt, torture, and murder any and all muggles in the name of Voldemort? Hell, she'd probably commend him for wanting to kill me. Whatever. Fucking whatever.
I find him in the living room, looking around the space curiously, only the slightest of sneers on his face. Just wait till he sees where he's sleeping. “I've gotta do some things. Feel free to look around. Television.” I point, then start up the stairs. Thirty seconds later, he's at my back.
“Potter, don't just leave me alone in all this... muggleness.”
I stop, turning on him. “Not a word you're allowed to say here. My aunt knows what you are, and god help me, she likes you enough to let you stay. But my uncle and my cousin—They can't figure it out or it all goes to shit, got it? No magic, no muggles, no talking about blood in general, or charms, spells, potions...”
“I get it,” he interrupts with a growl. “I'm not stupid.” Better. I prefer him angry to charming any fucking day.
I turn back, going to push into my room, only to pause when I hear the bathroom door open. Dudley comes hulking out, stopping cold when he catches sight of the two of us. I glare, watching his bloodshot eyes access Malfoy, stupid running across his wide face.
“Whose the poof?”
“Lay a finger on him and I'll fucking kill you.”
Malfoy looks between the two of us, eyebrow raised inquiringly. I'm not explaining Dudley to him. There are not enough words to explain Dudley. The kid's mean, brutish, and likes to punch. I give as good as I get, but I'm not letting that shit happen to the Slytherin prince that never even saw an automatic door before. Without magic, Malfoy's damn vulnerable.
“I'm Drake,” Malfoy says, holding his hand out to Dudley. Fucking ass. Dudley stares at him like's he got five heads. Considering the kid's eyes look like he's already stoned, maybe that's what he sees.
“You fucking the freak?” Dudley asks, ignoring Malfoy's hand. “Seriously, you can do better. I could point out any bloke on the street, and they'd be better than my freak cousin.”
“Um...” Malfoy looks a bit lost. He brought it on himself, trying to make friends with Dudley.
“Hell, they don't even have to be people. I think I saw a cow the other day that would be a better choice than him. Dogs. Plenty of dogs running around the neighborhood. They're loyal. Probably drool less.”
I step into my room, determined to not get involved in the bullshit that is Dudley Dursley. I pull out some parchment, writing a note to Ron asking about Malfoy's mother. By the time I'm done and rousing Hedwig, Malfoy's back, looking at me almost sympathetically.
“Let me know if he hits you. I'll deal with it.”
“He's not going to hit me.”
Yeah, he fucking is, but I'm going to deal with it when it happens. If he wants to live in fucking fantasy land, so be it.
“I like your owl.” He steps up, reaching his hand out to gently stroke Hedwig's breast. The traitorous thing coo's at him. Fuck, I am never going to be loved if I have to compete with Malfoy for affection. My bird. My unconditional love. Hedwig hoots and rubs her face into his palm. Fuck my life.
I'm being a selfish ass, and I know it. He's homeless and running from Voldemort, who has all intentions of fucking him up in more ways than one. If he wants some damn companionship from my owl, it's not the end of the world.
“We'll be going out tomorrow to get you some clothes. I'll spot you the money for now... Or whatever. I have plenty, and who the hell knows what you're situation is going to be like.”
He just nods silently, gently petting my beautiful snowy bird. They look good together. They could be related.
He looks up, meeting my eyes. “Thank you.”
Sucker punch, right to the gut. That's what I get for being nice. Genuine appreciation. It's going to be a long month.
“No problem.”
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A Wayward Dragon In Little Whinging