Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

A Wish upon a Star	By : Sasunarufan13 Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 3197 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter nor make profit of it. J.K. Rowling owns it.

Chapter List
- 1-Part 1
- 2-Part 2
- 1
- 2
Author's note: This fic is dedicated to babyvfan, because it's her birthday today. Happy birthday, sweetheart!
So this fic will most likely be two parts with a bit more drama in the second part. It's a sequel in Harry's pov to More Powerful Than Magic and I suggest you read that one first if you haven't done so, because otherwise this story will be a bit confusing.
REMARK: At times it will appear as if an entire scene is missing, which is done on purpose. I'm currently working on Narcissa pov for this particular universe and her story will share moments with this one and have other scenes that don't appear in Harry's pov. I don't know yet when I'll be able to post it, but just remember that it's being written and that accounts for the missing scenes in this fic at times :)
Warnings: Harry's pov; set in 1988; some angst; implied child abuse.
Dedicated to: babyvfan
I hope you'll like it! The writing was rough at times, because the scenes wouldn't cooperate with me at all, so I hope it isn't too bad!
Part 1
"YOU UNGRATEFUL LITTLE FREAK! WAIT UNTIL I GET MY HANDS ON YOU!"
Green eyes shot open; his heart pounding in his chest as he stared unseeingly in the dark. Uncle's voice echoed around him, bouncing back and forth and he clamped his hands in front of his mouth, swallowing back the scream that threatened to escape.
He couldn't scream, shouldn't scream. Screaming would bring Uncle, would bring Aunt, and they wouldn't be happy, they would …
Abruptly his brain registered that he wasn't curled up in a ball in his cupboard. He was lying on a very soft mattress, which had his body sinking into it, covered by the softest sheets he had ever had the fortune of touching. The sheets were snuggled around his body, wrapping him up in their pleasant warmth.
Oh right.
He wasn't in his cupboard. He wasn't even with his uncle and aunt anymore. He was in a very big house, having been brought here by …
By magic, his mind whispered in awe and he only shrank away from the word a bit. The boy he had met yesterday, Draco he had introduced himself, had told him all about magic. How it was something useful, something pretty, something they both had and Harry should be proud of it.
"You're a wizard and you're one of the strongest ones!" Draco had declared confidently; his grey eyes glittering brightly like the stars Harry had sometimes caught a glimpse of through the small bathroom window.
"Why am I one of the strongest ones?" Harry had asked confused, worrying his sleeves between his fingers. How could he be one of the strongest when Dudley was beating him up all the time?
"Because you defeated a very bad wizard when you were just a baby!" Draco had exclaimed, snatching Harry's hands in his own pale ones. "And that's not something everyone can do, you know!"
Mister and Mrs. Malfoy had entered the room right when Draco had said that, cutting off any questions Harry could ask about this supposedly bad wizard.
Yesterday had been quite the confusing day with information thrown at him left and right and he still didn't understand everything they had told him. All he knew was that after having dinner with the Malfoys – and he had been very surprised when the food had been brought out by strange creatures called house elves – he had been put into a large tub and washed by one of those house elves while Mrs. Malfoy had remained near him. The way she had lingered near the bathtub, keeping a sharp eye on him, had reminded Harry of Aunt Petunia and the way she fussed over Dudley whenever he was taking a bath, making sure the fat boy wouldn't slip or get soap in his eyes. Being given the same treatment had left a funny feeling in his belly.
Afterwards he had been dressed in soft, warm, dark blue pyjamas which Draco had let him borrow and had been ushered in a large bedroom, even larger than the one Dudley occupied back at the Dursleys' home. He had needed some help with getting into the large bed and had been completely bewildered when Mrs. Malfoy had tucked him in, drawing the midnight blue sheets up until his chin.
Despite the weirdness of the other day, the way he still didn't understand magic or how he had even ended up here, he – liked it here. His hands clenched around the sheets and he stared wide eyed at the dark ceiling. Mister and Mrs. Malfoy had been nice so far and Draco especially seemed enthusiastic about Harry being here, which was … quite odd actually. Nobody he knew had ever reacted enthusiastic or happy when they were near Harry. He was the freak after all, the strange boy dropped at his relatives' house in the middle of the night. The weird child others had to avoid if they didn't want to face Dudley's wrath.
People just didn't like him for a variety of reasons. However the Malfoys seemed to like him or at least not mind his unexpected presence at their house and that thought floored him.
It also spurred him into action when he crawled towards the nightstand and plucked his glasses from it, slipping them back on his face. The little clock – one made in the shape of an owl – announced that it was a quarter to six and Harry startled, instantly scrambled out of the comfortable bed. He would need to start working on breakfast soon!
Mister Malfoy looked to be a very important man and Harry was sure he would need to leave early for whatever work it was that wizards did. He'd probably want to read the newspaper as well, Uncle Vernon always did that while eating his breakfast, so he would most likely get up soon.
The least Harry could do for intruding on them and making them take care of him was prepare breakfast.
The house was so big that it took him a bit to locate the kitchen. When he finally found the staircase that led to the ground floor, his nose twitched when the scent of fresh bread curled into his nostrils. He let the delicious smell guide him towards a deep brown door, which was on the right of the stairs he had just descended. The door was heavier than expected, but when he pushed against it with his shoulder, the bone digging into the unforgiving wood, he managed to open it and he slipped through the gap before the door had the chance to fall shut.
His eyes widened as he took in the hustle and bustle going on in the kitchen. Those odd beings, house elves he reminded himself, were scattered all over the large kitchen. Some of them were rolling out dough, sprinkling it with flour; others were stirring something with ladles in large, gleaming cooking pots. At the worn looking table, four house elves were separating dark blue berries in two different piles.
Still a bit wary around the elves, his eyes darted around the room, taking stock of where everything was situated. The stove was on his right, wedged in between gleaming white counters. Both the counters and the stove were too high for him to reach, but a chair would help him with that; it wasn't as if the kitchen of the Dursleys was any smaller.
He grabbed the nearest chair and dragged it towards the counter, passing several astonished looking house elves who stopped their tasks at once. Once the chair was properly pushed against the counter, next to the stove, he scrambled on top of it, surveying the items on the counter. Some metal bowls were stacked against the wall and he spotted a carton full of brown eggs.
Oh, he could make scrambled eggs with toast! He never messed that one up. Several pans were hovering above the counter, but he couldn't discover any thread holding them up. Was magic keeping them in the air? That was so amazing! He reached out and plucked one of the pans out of the air, wondering if the magic would let him. It did and he carefully lowered the pan on the stove; his arms straining with the heavy weight.
"Young Master Harry Potter, sir?" a house elf next to him squeaked surprised and he paused, bewildered at the unexpected address. "Is you hungry, young master? We's can makes you breakfast!"
"No, I'm going to make breakfast for Mister and Mrs. Malfoy," Harry stated frankly, searching the counter for butter. "Where's the butter?"
"Oh no, Young Master Harry Potter! We is makings the breakfast for the masters and the mistress!" the house elf proclaimed shocked.
"No, it's fine," he reassured the being, pulling the carton with eggs towards him. "Can you bring me some butter, please?"
Ignoring the house elves' protest, he set about cracking five eggs in a metal bowl, wondering whether that would be enough. If it wasn't he would just have to make more, he supposed. Despite the elves' vigorous protest, though, they didn't once attempt to remove him from the counter, even helping him activating the fire underneath the pan. The butter started hissing as it slowly melted and he whisked the eggs as quickly as he could. It was almost six o'clock and he still had to prepare the toast.
So absorbed in his task, he started violently when Mrs. Malfoy's voice suddenly rang out behind him, "Harry, dear, what are you doing?"
He whipped his head around, staring at her in shock. He hadn't expected her to come here yet! But why would she ask what he was doing? Wasn't that obvious?
"Making breakfast," he explained confused; still whisking the eggs.
"Are you hungry? The house elves would have made you some food if you had asked them," she remarked mildly, coming slowly closer.
Despite her gentleness of the other day, he couldn't help but still when she came closer. Aunt Petunia approaching him when he was cooking had never boded well for him and he wondered nervously whether he was doing something wrong.
"It's not for me," he muttered, tilting his head to the left. "It's for you and Mister Malfoy."
Maybe she was just a bit confused, because she hadn't expected him to be up yet? His answer made her stare at him with unreadable eyes and his toes clenched a few times, hidden underneath the fabric pooling around his feet.
"Why? That's not necessary."
He grew even more confused, but stopped whisking the eggs. He stared down at the yellowish mixture uncertainly. Was he doing something wrong after all? Had he got the timing wrong? Worrying his lip between his teeth, he questioned hesitatingly, "Do you – when do you eat breakfast? I can wait. I just thought that Mister Malfoy has to leave early for work."
She frowned and regarded him perplexed. "No, Harry – that's not ... I mean that you don't have to make breakfast at all. That's what the house elves do. Why do you think you had to get up early to make breakfast?"
"Because Uncle Vernon likes to have breakfast early so that he can read the newspapers before he has to leave for work," he replied slowly. What was wrong with him making breakfast? Oh! Maybe Mister Malfoy didn't like eggs? "Did I – am I not doing it right? Does Mister Malfoy not like eggs? I can make bacon!" he added hopefully and quickly put the bowl back on the counter. Maybe he could prepare those eggs later on for Draco. What would he make for Mister Malfoy, though?
Contemplatively he studied the counter and the closed cupboards. They had flour and eggs and the kitchen in general seemed well stocked … "Or pancakes! I know how to make pancakes so I can make them if you want!" he suggested eagerly. Dudley loved sweets so Harry had to learn early on how to make pancakes for his cousin.
"No, darling, I mean you don't have to make breakfast at all," Mrs. Malfoy said to his complete bewilderment and gestured for him to get off the chair.
He did so very reluctantly and gazed at her, not understanding why he didn't have to prepare breakfast.
"The house elves here are the ones who take care of preparing the food. If you want something, you just have to ask them and they'll prepare it for you," she explained and several house elves nodded their heads rapidly.
Away from the counter now and no longer in possession of the cooking utensils, the house elves were eager to take over and he stepped out of the way, feeling somewhat restless now that his task had been taken away from him. His fingers twitched with restless energy and he gnawed down at his lower lip, staring at Narcissa apprehensively.
"If you're sure," he mumbled and licked his lips. Well, if cooking was out of the question, then perhaps … "Do you want me to start cleaning then? I don't know where the cleaning supplies are, but …"
"No, Harry, no, you don't have to clean either. The elves do that as well."
He was left floundering, feeling lost as he tried to figure out what he was supposed to do now. If he couldn't cook and couldn't clean, what could he do then? "But what am I supposed to do then?" Oh, wait! The garden! He had caught glimpses of the huge backyard yesterday; surely some work could be done there? Weed didn't stop growing merely because winter had arrived after all.
"The backyard? I can't cut the grass yet, but I can pull out the weed," he suggested weakly.
Mrs. Malfoy suddenly sank down on her knees in front of him and he stiffened as she looked him straight in his eyes. "Listen, Harry, you don't have to do any chores here. Preparing the food, cleaning the manor, working in the garden – those are all chores that the house elves do."
"But what do I have to do then?" he inquired utterly stumped. There had to be something he could do here, right? He was used to doing a lot of tasks because of the Dursleys; surely he could prove he was useful here too?
"Well, Draco follows lessons with a private tutor," she answered slowly. "And when he's done with his homework he plays in his room or reads books. Now it'll be a little while before you can follow lessons together with Draco, because we have to arrange a couple of things first, but for now you can go back to sleep or play with Draco's toys. I'm sure he won't mind."
He couldn't help but look at her dubiously. Dudley nor other children liked it when he played with their toys, so why would Draco be any different? He'd rather not risk the boy's wrath after he had been so nice to him yesterday. He threw a helpless look around the kitchen, watching how the house elves were each taking care of a task again now that he was no longer disturbing them. If he only got those two choices, then he supposed his decision was easily made.
"O-okay, then I'll go back to bed," he decided reluctantly.
Mrs. Malfoy smiled. "I'll tuck you back in, okay?"
A shock went through his system like an earthquake and he blurted out, "You don't have to!" Sure sometimes he watched Aunt Petunia tuck in Dudley, read him a story before bedtime, and yes, he often imagined that someone would do the same for him, but Mrs. Malfoy didn't have to do that after being so sweet already!
She rose up from the floor; her robe rustling around her legs and offered her hand. "But I want to," she reassured him, looking at him expectantly.
He stared at it uncertainly for a while, worrying that the offer was a trick. Would she pull her hand away like Aunt Petunia had done several times before? But she had been sweet to him so far and Aunt Petunia had always been very clear about what she thought of him. Maybe this wasn't a trick after all? Hesitatingly he stretched out his hand, keeping a sharp eye on hers in case she did pull it back. She didn't, though, and then his hand was resting in hers. Her gaze was soft when she wrapped her bigger hand around his, enveloping him in her warmth.
Hand in hand, they walked out of the kitchen and Harry's belly did funny flip-flops as he followed her up the stairs again. She still hadn't released his hand as she guided him back to his bedroom, passing house elves on the way who were washing windows or removing dust from the plinths.
She helped him climb back in bed and to his astonishment she did indeed tuck him in, fussing over him. She removed his glasses and arranged the sheets until he was completely snuggled in them. All he could do was stare back with wide eyes, clenching his hands around the sheets.
"Get some more sleep, all right?" Mrs. Malfoy said softly. "If you need me, just call for Milly and she'll come get me, okay?"
"Okay," he murmured, gazing at her in wonder. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon had been quite clear that they didn't care whether he needed them or not. If he was scared because of a nightmare, he just had to deal with it on his own, because they wouldn't waste time on him. Dudley only had to let out a small peep and Aunt Petunia would be there, but Harry didn't have to count on getting the same treatment.
For Mrs. Malfoy to say that to him, when she didn't even know him that well and wasn't obligated to be nice … It made his chest feel strangely fuzzy.
"I'll see you when you wake up again," she smiled, her eyes bright with an unidentifiable emotion. She brushed the back of her hand gently against his cheek before leaving the room soundlessly.
He turned to lie on his right side, pulling the sheets up until they were covering his neck and ear. He had never been allowed to go back to bed once he was awake, no matter how tired he was. It felt like he was now doing something bad, something he wasn't supposed to do, and he didn't think it would be easy to fall asleep again.
His eyelids were growing heavier, though, but that didn't mean …
He was out like a light before the clock could announce that it was six thirty.
He was still caught in a daze after hearing he was allowed to stay here instead of having to go back to the Dursleys – he was going to stay here! - when he was ushered into a smaller room after breakfast. A man with dark blue eyes and black hair with silver strands was waiting there with a small smile. He was dressed in what Draco had told him were robes; they were a lime green colour and had two large pockets on each side.
"Good morning, Mister Potter. I'm Healer Leigh Naughton, but you can just call me Leigh," the man introduced himself with a friendly smile. He took a long, thin, dark brown stick out of his left pocket, which was apparently called a wand according to the blond boy and which every wizard and witch got when they turned eleven years old to help them practice magic.
"Hello, nice to meet you," Harry said shyly, hovering next to Draco, who didn't seem to mind his closeness.
Leigh gestured towards a small chair in front of the desk. "If you take a seat here, I can start examining you. I'll be casting a couple of spells on you, but I promise they won't hurt," he said reassuringly.
"Okay," Harry mumbled and sat down on the chair, fidgeting slightly.
Leigh pointed the wand at him and he couldn't help but flinch when the tip of the stick glowed a soft red all of a sudden. Then a piece of paper appeared in the air with a 'Pop' and Harry stared at it in amazement. Magic could even create stuff out of nothing? That was so amazing!
Leigh plucked the paper out of the air and retrieved something else out of his pocket. Harry couldn't help but blink when the older man held a long, grey feather in his hand. What was he going to do with that? The man dipped the tip of the feather in a small vial on the desk and –
Started writing on the paper with it.
Wizards and witches didn't use regular pens?
As Leigh's wand kept glowing all kinds of colours, from bright yellow to soft green to dark blue, letting out the occasional spark, Mister and Mrs. Malfoy were talking softly to each other in the corner of the room, occasionally peeking at him. Draco was lingering near the chair, not close enough to disturb whatever Leigh was doing, but not too far away either. His light grey eyes were trained on Harry and he quirked a quick smile whenever green eyes flickered towards him.
Harry sat there for a while, patiently waiting until Leigh was done with this odd check-up. He felt fine, so he still didn't understand why this examination was necessary, but Mrs. Malfoy had been insistent. At long last, though, Leigh stepped back, humming thoughtfully as he studied whatever he had written down on the paper. He stuffed his wand back into his pocket, pursing his lips.
"Are you finished with Harry? Sir?" Draco added after Mister Malfoy looked at him with a frown.
"Yes, I am," Leigh replied, sounding a bit distracted.
"May Harry and I go play now?" Draco pleaded, turning his plea towards his mother. "I finished my homework!"
"Yes, you may," she murmured, though most of her attention was on the Healer. She looked a bit tense, as if she didn't like whatever she was seeing on Leigh's face.
It confused Harry, because he was feeling fine, so there was no need for her to look like that.
"Let's go, Harry!" Draco had already pulled him off the chair and out of the room before he fully realised what was happening.
"What are we going to do?" he asked cautiously as Draco tugged him along to the staircase.
They were on the first floor in a corridor closest to the staircase. Here the walls were bare of portraits with their strange moving and talking occupants. He had encountered the paintings yesterday on his way to his newly appointed bedroom. They had been whispering to each other, following him with their eyes. The whole moving and talking reminded him of the television and the videos at the Dursleys, but neither Mrs. Malfoy nor Draco had known what a television or a video was. Apparently they didn't have things like that in the magic world; they did, however, have moving and talking paintings apparently.
Draco glanced back incredulously as if Harry had asked a stupid question. "We're going to play!" he declared, hauling Harry onto the steps. The dark haired boy quickly followed him, nary avoiding stumbling and falling flat on his face.
"Oh," Harry uttered stumped, staring wide eyed at the blond boy. "Eh, what are we going to play?"
Nobody had ever wanted to play with him before, all trying to avoid the freak as much as possible. What kind of games would they play? What if he messed up; what if he did something wrong and make Draco dislike him?
Unbeknownst to the growing panic of the boy whose hand he was clutching, Draco replied cheerfully, "Whatever we'll find in the playroom. I have a lot of toys there! Maybe you'll get your own playroom too if we ask mother and father!"
His own playroom? Harry felt lightheaded at that thought. He only had two little soldier toys at the Dursleys, rescued from the bin and hidden carefully underneath his thin blanket. One soldier missed his left arm and the other his right leg and a piece of his right arm, but Harry still had fun playing with them when he was once again sent to his cupboard. He just had to make sure that neither one of the Dursleys would find them, because thrown away by Dudley or not, they would get angry at him for stealing them from the bin.
From having two little soldier toys to a possible whole playroom of his own – that was crazy!
They reached the second floor and made their way through the largest corridor, passing several portraits of women and men, all with blond hair and grey or blue eyes. One woman in particular, who wore her dark blonde hair in a tight bun and was dressed in deep blue robes, leant forwards in her chair, pursing her lips.
"Draco, you have a new friend?" she remarked calmly; her blue grey eyes studying Harry intently, who shifted nervously underneath her gaze.
"Yes! Great-aunt Selene, this is Harry Potter!" Draco boosted as if he was introducing someone amazing, beaming up at the portrait as he halted in front of it, forcing Harry to stop walking as well.
For some reason his name made her tilt her head slightly to the right, raising an eyebrow. "So it is true," she mused, leaning back in her chair. "Septimus was muttering about it last night, but he is wont to mumble nonsense once in a while. The perils of old age, I suppose." She peered down at Harry and smiled faintly. "Welcome to Malfoy Manor, Mister Potter. I do hope you will enjoy your stay."
"Eh, thank you," Harry said shyly and the lady's smile deepened before she turned her head to look at the greying man in the portrait next to her.
"Now, Alexander, I must urge you to …"
Draco was already pulling him along again, guiding him around the corner to the left, and Selene's voice died out.
"Why would Mister Septimus talk about me?" Harry asked hushed, though he didn't need to fear being overheard. There were no portraits hanging on the wall in this corridor, save for one small one, which showed a mountain covered with snow.
"Because you're Harry Potter," Draco stated frankly, as if that was all the answer he needed. "Everyone knows you!"
"But why?"
"Because you defeated the bad wizard, remember? I told you that yesterday," the blond huffed and Harry couldn't help but flinch away at the note of annoyance colouring the boy's voice.
As quickly as the irritation had popped up, just as quickly it seemed to be forgotten, because Draco was already back to grinning excitedly when they halted in front of a closed door. "This is my playroom!" He released Harry's hand to push open the door, pressing his hands firmly against the dark wood.
The door swung open soundlessly and Harry couldn't help but gape in wonder as he gazed around the large room. It looked to be more than double the size of his bedroom and it was filled with all kinds of toys, spread out over the floor. The floor itself was hidden underneath a fuzzy, grass green carpet and several large pillows were dumped in the four corners of the room. A pure white armchair was placed in the middle of the room, looking like some kind of throne. Three large windows allowed daylight to stream through in the room; the dark blue curtains pulled back for now. There were so many toys scattered around, Harry didn't know where to look first, overwhelmed by the sheer amount of them.
Dudley would be so jealous if he could see just how many toys were in this room!
"My playroom is amazing, right?" Draco grinned; his grey eyes gleaming with excitement as he watched green eyes flitting back and forth.
"So many toys," Harry mumbled in awe, taking a few hesitant steps closer into the room. His foot bumped against something and when he looked down, he was greeted by a book which had a picture of a girl in a red cloak on the front.
Red Riding Hood maybe?
"Come on." Draco held out his hand patiently, smiling widely when Harry peered at him uncertainly. "I'll show you how to play with these toys!"
On an impulse, Harry placed his hand in Draco's and allowed himself to be pulled along to the right corner, where Draco pointed at the thick, fluffy, yellow pillow for him to sit down on while he set about gathering the toys he wanted to show to Harry. Harry did so, plopping down on the soft pillow dazed.
For the first time Harry would be playing with toys. More importantly, he would be sharing toys with someone who really seemed to like him.
Someone genuinely liking him still felt like a foreign concept to him, but his chest was filled with a fuzzy warmth and when Draco sat down next to him and grinned, his eyes glittering brightly, Harry couldn't help but grin back and his heart skipped a beat.
He was so happy his wish had brought him here. Maybe, just maybe, he could even stay here forever!
Wouldn't that be great?
AN2: The second part will deal with a bit more drama, but I promise a happy ending :)
Please leave your thoughts behind in a review; should you spot any mistakes, please point them out to me.
I hope to see you all back in the next part!
Cuddles
Melissa
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A Wish upon a Star