Chapter Text
Once upon a time, in a land far closer than one might think, a baby boy lay on the doorstep of a very muggle neighbourhood. As odd as that occurrence was, the child in question was odder still.
The little boy named Harry, after an ancestor he would never know of, was a wizard. Not an extraordinary one, not a particularly bad one, but a very normal everyday wizard. It must be said at this point that while Harry was indeed a perfectly normal wizard, his further childhood would make him even more ordinary, apart from the fact that the abuse his relative’s bestowed on him caused his core to become larger than most normal wizards. Of course, abuse is never normal. Nor was poor Harry's childhood. Frankly, the only normal thing about Harry Potter was that he was boy.
Harry Potter was the culmination of love between two even more ordinary parents. A man, James Potter, and a woman, Lily Evans. They had met while in school and, as such things to tend to happen, they gradually fell in love until they eventually decided to show the world their deep connection and devotion to the other through marriage.
As love stories go, it was quite ordinary and the only thing that marred this ordinary love was the war waging fiercely around their bubble of happiness. All too soon that bubble was sadly, but inevitably, popped. In a tragic and frantic attempt to save their son from what they believed was evil, both James Potter and Lily Potter were murdered. Their last and desperate attempt to save their only son had, joyously, succeeded and Harry Potter survived the night. The powers that be (unnamed and unimportant in Harry's story) placed him in the care of his direct family: Petunia Evans, Lily's dear sister.
Now it may surprise a fair few people that Petunia Evans was not a witch. She had wanted to be one, but soon came to the conclusion (and after several rejections) that magic and anything to do with the subject was far too much effort and she would prefer to spend her time doing things worth her while.
Her life, strictly outlined, passed as she had hoped. She had gone to university and graduated accordingly, found herself a mediocre job, and found a steady love that would endure. Vernon Dursley was perhaps not the love of her life, but was so ordinary and fit in her life plan so perfectly that she loved him besottedly for her whole life. Her life passed in a normal amount of mundane happiness that thrilled her down to her very toes. Vernon proposed, they got married, and lived a happy life. Life's joys increased when Vernon was offered a promotion and around the same time Petunia became pregnant. They had a baby boy. Life was complete.
Sadly for Petunia, her life was about to meet a fair few difficulties that she had never planned for and thus couldn't fathom. Her sister died. Her grief had no chance to express itself in the face of two very strange and unknown wizards telling her that Lily's son was now her responsibility. Petunia rightly didn't care for their plans and her grief quickly turned to resentment at having been shoved face first into an unplanned future where her very happy ordinary life was now anything but.
Poor darling Harry never stood a chance.
As Harry grew Petunia only noticed how very much he wasn't like her sister. The only thing that marred this observation were his eyes, something she took great pains to ignore whenever she could for fear of losing the last of her kin. Harry, she knew, was bound to be a wizard and would thus be lost to her in a very short amount of time. It had never occurred to her that love would have kept him coming back.
Thus Harry grew and Petunia's fear and anger grew with him. By the time Harry turned ten he knew several things that no normal child, or adult for that matter, would ever know. He knew how to hide certain emotions, he knew how to become what people thought of him, he knew how to hide bruises, he knew how to lie convincingly, and most importantly of all, Harry knew how to become completely ordinary. So ordinary, in fact, that he would never need a spell to hide him from sight as he was so uninteresting, ones eyes simply slid past him.
Harry himself had never equated his dismal upbringing with abuse of any sort. He was convinced (although unhappily so) that this was simply how people were treated. It wasn't until much later (and very unimportant to our story), in the face of having his own children that he understood what he had gone through. So Harry, mostly unhappy with his lot in life but determined to make it to his eighteenth birthday, was very much fiercely disturbed at the events that transpired a few short weeks prior to his eleventh birthday.
A letter appeared.
Harry was a wizard.
Harry, both excited and resigned to his fate, had to change his plans for the future. Now he was going to be free a whole year earlier. That had shocked him something fierce because he needed money to escape earlier (he was the practical sort, after all). As luck would have it his parents had left him some money. They had also, to his great surprise, left him a rich inheritance to a part of the Wizarding world he hadn't been introduced to yet.
He was an Heir.
As Harry grew in this new world, it became apparent to him that his previously very ordinary life had continued on in the Wizarding world. For he was ordinary in that world where he had never been in the muggle world and it comforted him immeasurably that he wasn't alone. He made friends, had two best friends, and studied the way he had never been allowed to before. His grades were still average (perhaps by chance, perhaps on purpose), his magic wasn't all that impressive, and he still very much fell into the background in any given moment. Life was good.
Plans, as many may know, have a habit of falling into drastic disarray the moment one feels comfort in knowing everything will run smoothly. Which is why Harry's life suddenly took a turn for the unplanned the year he turned seventeen.
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Harry had always known Draco Malfoy. Not in the sense of friends or even acquaintances, but more in the sense of 'oh he's rich and handsome'. Everyone knew Draco Malfoy and everyone knew that he was far out of Harry's league.
Which is to say, Harry didn't let anyone know he was interested. To be fair, he hadn't been in the beginning. As first years Harry just thought Draco was a prat and as they grew up that opinion hadn't changed much. It wasn't until sixth year that Harry saw the change from rich playboy who flaunts it all to a more...well, he didn't know what but he knew there had been a change. There was a slight arrogance, a confidence that hadn't been there before.
To be completely fair, Harry had never taken his interest in Draco farther than the occasional look, not because he didn't appreciate the view, but because he had had a better one. A real one. A crush worthy of swooning (if he had been a girl and had any swooning tendencies, that is). Rodolphus Lestrange. Heir. Future Lord of the Lestrange House. Powerful. Didn't know Harry existed.
Harry had met him as a lowly first year when he had been hit by a spell that some passing Hufflepuff fourth year had thought funny (he regretted that action later, Harry made sure of it) when Rodolphus had angrily stepped in and helped him. Harry was lost.
He was handsome, rough features, dark eyes, and a temper to match. The small gratefulness of that action had morphed into a truly embarrassing heart longing that still hadn't left him, even when Rodolphus had been out of Hogwarts for the past four years.
Can you hold on to a crush when you haven't seen hide or hair of the actually individual for four years? Harry did, and he hated it. Mostly because he knew Rodolphus didn't have a clue he existed, despite Harry's friendship with his brother. Which is why Harry was surprised (and a little relieved if not outright disgusted) that his full-blown almost-love for Rodolphus had turned into a minor crush on Draco. Moving on was healthy.
For people.
In general.
Contrary to popular belief (Ron and Hermione) he wasn't obsessed enough with Draco to notice that the boy had changed over the summer, Harry just paid attention. Which is where it all went horribly, horribly wrong. Because somehow Draco started to notice him noticing Draco and...awkward.
Draco was...well, even through all their years together at Hogwarts, Draco was contemptible. He was rich, he was an only child, his parents were very influential, and above all, Draco believed he deserved it all. The money, the public eye, people throwing themselves at him, all of it. He wanted it, got it, and then demanded more. He was bully in the worst ways possible, he had a new person on his arm practically every week (which wasn't all that bad but he treated them horribly), made sure to tank a persons reputations if they did anything he didn't like, and made sure to ruin their futures if they went after him in retaliation. Draco Malfoy was not a nice person.
Which made Harry twice as surprised to find out that he thought Draco had a pretty face. It wasn't quite a crush because he could never like Draco as a person but it also didn't stop him from thoroughly appreciating the aesthetics that made up Draco Malfoy. There was nothing redeeming about him after all, nothing good that made Harry think that maybe Draco had more layers underneath all of that poncy git-ness. After years and years of observing Draco Harry knew the cold hard truth: Draco was exactly what he advertised.
Now, that wasn't a bad thing despite popular opinion. Mostly because you knew what you were getting into and if you got burned then that was on you and Harry respected that kind of upfront behaviour. It was bad because Harry hated it. All of it. Everything that Draco represented was what Harry despised. That, logically, made his crush hard to swallow.
So when seventh year was a few months underway and Draco had started to talk to Harry, (did giving him a nod and saying hello count?) Harry simply took it in stride and figured Draco was being weird. When their odd nods and muttered greetings turned into 'can I sit here' and 'hey did you hear/see/know' Harry became suspicious. Draco didn't randomly start talking to people who were beneath him and Harry was very much beneath Draco. Socially speaking of course.
Well, he had been. Now, because people where everywhere Draco went, he was becoming popular by association and he hated it. He had never wanted to be popular and he had never wanted to stand in any kind of limelight but Draco Malfoy had taken an interest in him so now he had no choice.
The big, irritatingly persistent question was what exactly Draco was doing. While they hadn't been adversaries of any sort, they also hadn't been friendly. Draco was happy in his circle and Harry was happy in his. Their circles had never overlapped. Which led him to believe three very important things:
One: Draco had a plan and that plan hinged on Harry or revolved around Harry.
Two: Harry most certainly did not want to play along.
Three: Draco wouldn't care that Harry didn't want to be involved.
So. What was he going to do? Find out what Draco wanted of course. While he may very much enjoy looking at Draco (who didn't like to look at a pretty face after all?) he was also very much aware that he didn't actually want to do anything with Draco. Just because he had a crush didn't mean he had to do anything with that feeling, and Harry had never been inclined to ever do anything with it. The fact that Draco was doing something with it now put him on red alert.
"Potter." A cordial greeting interrupted his silent musings.
"Malfoy." Harry greeted back, surprise in his face while his mind swirled with plans to figure out what the git was hiding.
Draco smiled at him as he put his books down on the table Harry had claimed as his own. "Potions?" He inquired with a nod towards the offending book Harry had been trying to avoid for over an hour.
"Yeah." Harry replied as Draco sat down. Harry could get away with saying the bare minimum because he hadn't known what to say to Draco in the beginning and now it was habit so the other boy wouldn't notice anything different if Harry said next to nothing. It was something of a relief for Harry when he got tongue-tied or when he just didn't know what to say.
"I can help you with that, you know."
"You want to help me?" Was it possible to actually taste scepticism? Because Harry was sure he could even as he said the words. Draco never did anything for free, never offered up services that would cost you a 'favour' in the future. Suspicious.
"I am currently the top of our year in potions." Which he was, by a hair. Hermione was only a few points behind him and that was only because Snape was a prejudiced fuck that favoured Draco above everyone else, no matter their talents. That, and Tom Riddle was so close behind him that Draco had to feel the other man breathing down his neck.
"Why?" The big question that he wouldn't get an answer to and the one he was purposely misconstruing while being lost in his own thoughts.
"Why do I want to help you?" Draco asked, a slight confused tone in his voice.
Harry nodded in reply, watching Draco with a furrowed brow and curious eyes. Would he tell the truth? Probably not, but despite popular opinion, the lies people told were sometimes just as helpful as the truth. Which didn't mean that he wouldn't tell Harry the truth about why he was helping even though Harry was trying to figure out an entirely different question altogether. He was making this complicated, he just knew it.
"Because I want us to be friends, and friends help each other." Draco told him with a winning smile that almost made Harry narrow his eyes in distrust.
Draco did not do 'friends', especially not from other social circles (especially not the one Harry was in with a mudblood and a blood traitor). So Draco didn't want to be his friend but he definitely wanted something specific from Harry.
Harry hummed in thought. "We'll see how it goes." He replied, watching as the other boy tried to hide a smirk of satisfaction.
Honestly, the least he could do was try and make it less obvious that he wanted Harry for something. This was almost too easy. Maybe he could put on his invisibility cloak and hover around them at dinner? Follow them to the dungeons and find out what the fuss was all about. If there was one thing Harry hated more than anything was being kept in the dark when it concerned him, so he was determined to find out why Draco Malfoy was suddenly interested in him.
"So, potions?" Draco prompted him after he had set up his books and parchment in just the right way.
"Potions." Harry said with a decisive nod.
Harry wasn't stupid; he just didn't try all too hard in a subject where he knew the teacher hated his very existence. That didn't mean he didn't study since both O.W.L.S. and N.E.W.T.'s were tested by a second party and thus had nothing to do with Snape, letting him get an honest grade instead a biased one. He had been surprised that he had actually gained an O when the threat of Snape wasn't hanging above his head. Merlin, even Neville had gotten an E. If that didn't say enough about Snape's teaching methods, he didn't know what would.
The point, however, was that Harry wasn't stupid. He didn't actually need any help from Malfoy (or even Hermione for that matter) and he knew what the hell he was doing. So instead of having a torture session where Draco attempted to tutor him, he pretended Draco was amazing at explaining potions and helped him gain a new way of looking at them. All lies of course, but it put him in Draco's good books and made the man preen like an idiot before he claimed he had to meet up with someone. Good fucking riddance.
What he really wanted to do was follow him and find out exactly what was going on but he knew exactly what Draco meant when he said he had to 'meet up' with someone. Sex. And no way was Harry walking in on that and ruining the whole game before he could figure out what Draco was going to use him for.
So instead of jumping up and following him, he watched Draco as he made his way out of the library and started to plan the best way to disappear for a few hours without anyone knowing. Even Ron and Hermione, which would the most difficult part of the whole plan. Pretend detention? Extra credit work? Perhaps a trip to Hagrid? Options, options, options.
"He's not interested, you know." A voice said casually from behind him.
Twisting around his seat to find the source of the voice, Harry found a very tall figure perusing the stacks with his back turned to him, seemingly focused on finding a book.
Harry sighed deeply once he realised it was Tom Riddle looking for a book. "Yeah, I know." He said as he turned back in time to watch Draco disappear out the library door.
Tom Riddle was a fellow seventh year and if Harry remembered correctly, the Head Boy this year. He was also a very popular student whose sole focus in life was to be the best at everything.
All that would be perfectly fine if he didn't know for a fact that Riddle and Draco ran in opposing circles. Draco was the playboy of Hogwarts and Riddle was...hell, Tom Riddle was Dangerous.
Harry had a nasty habit of enjoying illegal things. Maybe not quite illegal in the strictest of senses, more morally skewed perhaps. One of his favourite pastimes was to put on invisibility cloak and roam the halls, following people and learning their secrets. Most were harmless, but that's how he came to learn of the Knights of Walpurgis. He had been following a shifty looking Avery one night and stumbled in on their little meeting.
It was the single most terrifying night of his life. It was the night he learned that there was a difference between power and perceived power. Draco thought he had power, Tom Riddle actually had power. He had been twitchy and panicked for weeks after, keeping to the background more than ever until he realized that nobody had even noticed he had been there. So he did the most logical thing he could think of: he went back. He had gone back to every meeting he could walk in on for the next six months until he realized exactly what he was getting himself into.
He had no intentions of ever being a follower, of ever being less than he was. If was ever in Tom Riddle's group he would have been relegated to the back, made useful when it suited and forgotten about when not. Harry wasn't a fan of the spotlight but that in no way meant he was fine with other people putting him in the background. That was his choice and his alone.
Not only that but he had some serious issues with Riddle's...more fanatic side. He'd seen plenty of moments where Riddle seemed a little too unbalanced for his liking and a little too quick to anger. Not good qualities in a leader, in his opinion.
That had been last year though and since those displays of power he hadn't ever felt the need to go back or to make himself seen by Riddle. All of that was now very much out the window because Draco Malfoy had decided to take an interest in him.
"If you know, then what are you doing?" Riddle asked as he found the book he was looking for.
"Interested in my motivations Riddle?" Harry asked, turning to Riddle in curiosity.
Riddle turned his head in Harry's direction and gave him a sharp smile. "Interested in you, for the moment. Malfoy has made you interesting by association."
"So?" Harry wondered despite abject terror entering his bloodstream.
"I'm wondering what you're going to do with it." Riddle stated, finally turning to look Harry head on, something that made Harry squirm since he hated scrutiny of any sort.
"The interest?" He asked, not quite sure what to do with the whole conversation.
"The possibilities." Riddle said softly, leaning in just enough to make it seem like he was sharing something secret.
Harry hummed in thought and he watched Riddle stroll away. Well. Wasn't that an interesting take on his situation. What was he going to do with all of this?