What If?

Chapter Two

Harry yawned, stretched, and turned away from the window enchanted to look like the grounds outside, as they were underground. The sun was risen, and that was what had awoken him. He opened his eyes to find Draco looking at him, a smile playing around his slightly parted lips, his silver eyes twinkling in amusement.

"You do realise that, when you wake up, you make a sound like a kitten mewing?" he asked.

Harry flushed. "I do?" Harry asked in return. Draco nodded, still smiling. Harry turned away, realising that someone had opened his curtains.

"It was the house elf," Draco explained.

Harry looked at him, shock written all over his face. "What...how...?" he said.

Draco laughed. "Don't worry, I can't read your mind or anything," he replied. "You had this confused look on your face, and you were staring at the hangings."

Harry nodded, relieved.

"Now, if you were a Malfoy," Draco continued, "You wouldn't have your emotions written so plainly across your face, for everyone to see. My father says that allowing the enemy to see what you're thinking, or feeling, is one of the greatest weaknesses a wizard can have during a duel. I could teach you, if you like?" he asked, tentatively.

Harry nodded, unsure why this was so important, but he didn't want to hurt his first-ever friends' feelings. "Yeah, why not?" he replied.

Draco nodded as well, his face unsurprisingly passive. Out of the blue, something squawked "Get up, sleepy heads! You should have been up ages ago!"

Both of the boys looked around in alarm. They found the source of the noise; it seemed to be coming from a mirror mounted on the wall, above the currently out-of-use fireplace. They looked at each other, shared a smile, and began to get dressed.

Harry opened his trunk at the foot of his bed and pawed through it. He pulled out a pair of Dudley's black pants and stared at them in distaste. Apart from being miles too big, they also looked a bit ratty down the bottom, where Harry had walked on the ends. He looked up and saw Draco staring at the pants in disgust.

"Give them here," he said abruptly. Wordlessly, Harry handed over the trousers, albeit curiously. Draco pulled out his wand, muttered "Reducto" under his breath, and passed them back to Harry, who pulled them on.

"I can't have you going around looking terrible, can I? What would it do for my reputation?" said Draco teasingly.

For once, an item of clothing Harry owned fit, and quite nicely too, he noted. He flashed a grateful smile at Draco and asked, "When did you learn to do magic like this?"

Draco smiled, somewhat bitterly. "My father. He had me performing the Unforgivables at seven, with his wand."

Harry looked confused. "The Unforgivables?" he asked.

"Oh, of course, you wouldn't know what they are, would you?" Draco replied. Harry shook his head. "The Unforgivables are three curses. One, the Imperius, places the person in question under your complete and total control. Another, "Crucio" causes excruciating pain to the witch or wizard. The third, the Killing curse, is Avada Kedavra. That's the one that killed your parents." Draco said this last part quietly. Harry felt a lump growing in his throat, and the backs of his eyes were stinging, but because the other boys were slowly getting up, he blinked back his tears and swallowed. Draco came over and stood in front of him, his pale hand on Harry's bare shoulder. Draco looked up at the only-just taller boy, and Harry smiled slightly.

"Thank you for telling me, Draco," he said softly.

Draco nodded. "That's alright, mate," he replied, turning back to his trunk.

Harry, who had just noticed that he was still only half-dressed, with his torso naked, did the same. As he did, he caught Blaise Zabini looking at him, a half smile flitting across his face as he ran his eyes over Harry's chest. Harry tensed his stomach slightly at Blaise's gaze, who noticed and looked up at his face. Slowly, deliberately, Zabini winked, before going back to dressing, smirking. Harry inwardly shook his head and smiled. Really, who would have thought? Blaise Zabini was gay, at age eleven.

~*~

"Yes, Harry," Draco had said when Harry mentioned it to him. "And the sky is blue, and water is wet. Anything else I can enlighten you on this morning?"

Harry just looked at him, forgetting about his bacon and eggs. "Well, it's only my second day of knowing you lot, you know!" he replied in his defense.

"Yes, but didn't you notice the way that he was eyeing you when we were changing into our robes on the train?"

"No, for the simple matter that I was changing. I probably had my shirt over my head or something."

Draco had smiled indulgently. "You're so naïve sometimes, Harry. And I've only known you for two days, too! People grow up a lot faster in the wizarding world."

At this, Harry had flushed. True, they probably did - particularly sons of Death Eaters, he thought. Draco had told him that his father was a supporter of the Dark Lord, the man - if he could be called that - who had killed his parents; but, as Draco has said himself, he was not his father. Besides, Draco hadn't had a problem with Harry's Muggle upbringing, so why should Harry judge him on who his family was? It seemed that wizards were a lot more open-minded compared to Muggles.

Draco waved a slim-fingered hand in front of Harry's eyes. "Are you alright, Harry?" he asked.

Harry nodded. "Just thinking," he replied.

Draco's brow furrowed slightly. "Listen, you don't have a problem with Blaise's... preferences, do you?" he asked.

"Oh, no!" Harry replied. "That wasn't what I was thinking about."

"What were you thinking about, then?"

Harry paused slightly.

"I was thinking about how you didn't have a problem with my Muggle upbringing, even when you spoke against it when we talked in Madam Malkin's that day," he said honestly.

Draco shrugged. "Well, I don't like the way they treat wizards," Draco replied, also honestly.

"Truthfully, I don't like them any more now that you've told me about yours," he continued. "Quite the opposite, in fact."

Harry looked at him incredulously. "What do you mean?" he asked, hardly daring to believe what Draco was implying.

"What do you think I mean? I don't like to hear about people mistreating my friends," Draco said.

A genuine smile washed over Harry's face. "Really?" he had said happily.

"Of course, you prat," Draco replied. "You've never had any real friends before, have you?"

Harry shook his head wordlessly. Draco took this to mean that the conversation was over, and turned back to his - now cold - bacon and eggs.

~*~

The Slytherins sat, mostly bored, in Transfiguration. Professor McGonagall was giving them a lecture.

"...most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts,' she said. 'Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned."

Then she changed her desk into a pig and back again. A few of the students looked slightly impressed, Harry included, but a majority of the Slytherins merely stared. Harry figured that this was because they had grown up with witches and wizards, and so were used to seeing magic.

After what seemed like hours of taking important notes, which, Professor McGonagall assured them, would help them for exams, matchsticks were handed out. The class were to Transfigure the matchstick into a needle.

By the end of the lesson, the only two people who had made any progress on their matches were Harry and Draco. Professor McGonagall showed everyone how Harry's match was very silver and pointy, whereas Draco's matchstick was fully transformed into a needle. Their teacher gave both of them 10 house points and a rare smile.

There were clear alliances forming within the first year Slytherins. Pansy Parkinson and Millicent Bulstrode were best friends; Crabbe and Goyle were always with Harry and Draco, who were also quite close, seemingly acting as bodyguards for the pair. Blaise Zabini often sat with them, but occasionally sat by himself; Morag MacDougal and Sally-Anne Perks were rarely seen apart.

Also, in Gryffindor house, with whom the Slytherins shared Potions - taught by Snape - friendships were forming. Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan, the Irish boy, were partners in Potions; the Weasley boy and the "Mudblood", Draco had noticed, were forming an unlikely relationship - although, Draco thought, sneering mentally, it was just like a Muggle-loving Weasley to befriend a bushy-haired know-it-all Mudblood like that Granger; the pretty Lavender and Parvati had also befriended each other, and spent most of their Potions lessons giggling together behind their cauldrons, shooting coquettish looks over at Harry, Draco and the other mildly attractive boys in their class. Not that Draco minded, of course; he had always liked being the centre of attention.

One Potions lesson, Harry had been dicing roots when his knife slipped, marking his left palm. He let out a small gasp, at which Draco looked up.

"What did you do?" he asked.

Harry showed him the cut on his hand. Draco's eyes lit up.

"I've got an idea!" he whispered.

Picking up his own knife, Draco sliced his own palm. Harry looked at him in alarm.

"Now we can be blood brothers!" Draco grinned, looking at Harry for confirmation.

Harry smiled. "You've heard of that Muggle thing?" he said, whilst putting his hand against Draco's, who pressed hard to blend the blood together.

"Muggle thing?" Draco asked, looking mortified. "It is not! This custom was thought up in 1475 by some dotty old wizard, I can't remember his name..."

Suddenly, Harry gasped again. His emerald green eyes rolled back into his head, and he fainted promptly, falling to the ground. Draco stared at him in horror as other people around the room collectively had a sharp intake of breath. Professor Snape was walking swiftly down the aisle to Harry.

"What happened to the Potter boy?" he snarled at Draco.

Draco shook his head, unable to speak. What had happened to Harry?

"Never mind then, boy. I'll get someone to take him up to Madam Pomfrey," Snape said, seemingly slightly calmer.

Sally-Anne stood up. "I'll take him, sir," she offered tentatively. Snape nodded, and, pointing her wand at Harry, muttered "Mobilicorpus". He handed it back to her and walked back to the front of the class behind Sally-Anne. She closed the door behind her, Harry floating in front.

Draco's heart was pounding. What had he done? Picking up Harry's knife, Draco looked at it intently. Upon closer inspection, he saw that the knife had remnants of the root Harry was cutting on it. He bent down, and saw that it was asphodel. His eyes widened involuntarily. This was why, then! Everyone knew that when blood from two different people was combined with asphodel root, it created an unbreakable link between the people in question. Draco swallowed. Even as he thought this, he felt a stirring at the back of his mind. He knew that Harry was waking.

Trying to keep his thoughts from invading Harry's head so soon after he had regained consciousness, he gently prodded at the other boy's mind.

Ugh, this tastes disgusting! was the sudden interference of Draco's head. He realised that Harry had accidentally sent a thought to Draco.

Harry, Draco sent back, Can you hear what I'm saying?

Draco? came the amazed reply, followed quickly by suspicion. Why are you in my head?

You know that you were cutting asphodel root, don't you?

Yes, why?

Because when two people's blood and asphodel are combined, it creates an unbreakable link between the two.

What?!

Then, without warning, Draco was cut off. He realised that Madam Pomfrey must have spoken to Harry, and asked him was he was doing.

Draco shook his head slightly, and went back to work. This was amazing.

~*~

"What do you mean, we're mentally linked?" demanded Harry.

Draco shrugged elegantly. "Just that. You can hear my thoughts, and I can hear yours."

"But why?" Harry asked, still looking perplexed.

"That's what happens when asphodel and blood are combined, I told you that," Draco replied patiently.

So, that means we can talk to each other without anyone hearing us, then?

Draco looked startled for a moment, but quickly recovered and replied.

Yes, it does, he sent.

How far does it last for?

For however far away we are from each other, I think. My parents have this bond, too, except they chose to have it.

Harry's voice in his head sounded quite hurt.

Would you prefer not to have the bond with me, then? Because we can always go to Dumbledore and -

Draco cut him off.

No, that's not it at all. I like having this with you. Even though I've only known you for a few days, Harry, you're already my best friend.

Really?

Really. Draco "said" firmly.

Harry grinned boyishly at Draco, who smiled back at him. On an impulse, he stepped towards Harry and pulled him into a hug. Although this was unusual for Harry, who had never before been on the receiving end of affection - unless Dudley's bashes counted - it was even more so for Draco, who had hardly ever gotten so much as a kiss from his mother. The closest Lucius Malfoy came to showering his son with warmth was when he put him under the Cruciatus curse.

He does what? Harry demanded again, inside his head this time.

I beg your pardon? Draco asked.

You just said that your father puts you under the Cruciatus curse.

Draco's telepathic voice suddenly became dismissive.

It's nothing.

"Oh, yes it is!" Harry cried out.

"No, it's not," Draco replied. "I'm used to it."

"I don't care," said Harry obstinately. "That's cruel! Especially on your own son!"

"Yes, well, my father was a cruel bastard. I repeat: I'm used to it," Draco spat out.

Harry suddenly looked hurt. Draco turned away and sat on his four-poster bed.

I'm sorry, Draco. Harry said mentally. I didn't mean to push you like that.

Draco looked up at Harry and saw him biting his lip, looking like a little child of around 6 or 7. He burst out laughing, and Harry jumped in alarm.

"What's the matter?" he asked, looking nervous.

"You looked so adorable, biting your lip like that and staring down at the floor! Like a little kid!" Draco said, still laughing.

Harry took a step closer to him, and Draco stood.

"I really am sorry though, Draco. I didn't want to upset you. You know that, don't you?" he said.

"Of course I do," Draco responded, lifting a hand to Harry's forehead. He traced his lightning-bolt scar, his pale white finger contrasting so beautifully with Harry's ebony hair. He smirked inwardly to himself as Harry drew breath in slightly when Draco's finger touched his face. Running that finger down his jaw line to Harry's chin, lifting it up slightly, Draco enjoyed the affect he was having on his best friend. He let his smirk show, and Harry smiled - somewhat nervously - back at him.

"Do you have anything against experimenting, Harry?" Draco asked casually. "Even at eleven?"

"No, of course not!" Harry answered immediately. "I'm open-minded. Why would I?"

With that, Draco dropped his hand back down to his side. He noted with satisfaction that Harry looked disappointed at the loss of contact.

Draco stepped closer, so that his chest was brushing oh-so-closely to Harry's. Without waiting further, Harry slid his hand behind Draco's neck and pulled him closer, crushing his lips on top of the other boy's. Draco, surprised that Harry had initiated the kiss, soon moved his own hand to the small of Harry's back and ran his tongue lightly over Harry's top lip. Harry's mouth parted slightly, and Draco slowly slid his tongue inside. Although Harry was still astonished that he had started this, now he didn't want it to stop. He moaned slightly - or was that Draco? - but allowed Draco into his mouth. Then, Draco's tongue was exploring his mouth, somewhat hesitantly, but was still there.

How many people have you kissed, Potter? Draco's voice asked sounding slightly amused.

None, why? Came the reply.

Because you're a hell of a kisser, let me tell you!

At this, Harry let out a snort of laughter. Draco smiled and stepped back somewhat unwillingly.

Harry looked at Draco, the corners of his mouth twitching into a smile.

"I like experiments."

~*~

"Draco?" said Harry, lying in his bed.

"Mm?" he replied.

Everyone else was downstairs in the common room, playing a game of Exploding Snap.

"Am I really a good kisser?"

Draco laughed. "Why do you ask?"

"Well, it's just, you said I was, but I wasn't sure, and so..." Harry trailed off.

"Yes, Harry, you are," Draco said, smiling to himself in the dark.

"Are you gay, like Blaise?" Harry asked.

"Mm...I don't know. A few more kisses like that and I might definitely be."

Harry sat up and whispered "Lumos" to his wand. He saw Draco turn his head towards him.

"Are you?" Draco asked.

"Well, no, I don't think so, because, that's the first time I've ever..." he again left the sentence unfinished.

"The famous Harry Potter was eleven before he had his first kiss?" Draco said incredulously.

Harry looked slightly put out. "Well, yes! You don't know what it was like living with the Muggles."

They could hear the three other boys tramping up the stairs to their dormitory.

Well, you told me a bit about it...you didn't say much, though. Do you want to continue? Draco sent.

Harry hesitated.

You don't have to, Draco added quickly.

No, it's okay, Harry sent back. It's probably best if I talk about it, anyway.

Harry paused again, but this time, he was thinking about where to start.

Well, I was like their servant, I suppose. On the weekends, I mostly worked in the gardens. You know, trim the borders of the flowerbeds and mow the lawns, things like that. Or, I cleaned inside - washing the bathroom, cleaning toilets, the usual.

Harry found he was unable to meet Draco's eyes. He heard a sharp intake of breath.

What?!

Harry shrugged.

It's not a big deal, really.

Not a big deal?! These...these...Muggles (Harry felt Draco almost spit out that word) made you, Harry Potter, a Pureblood wizard, do work meant for a house elf?!

When you put it like that, it sounds a lot worse...

Nothing is worse than that, Harry. Promise me - promise me now - that you will never sacrifice your dignity like that again. EVER.

It's not as easy as that, Draco. When I go home for the holidays and everything, they'll make me work.

You're not going back there.

But, I have to. I don't have anywhere else to go. It's not as if I can exactly move in with my parents, is it?

Draco noted that Harry's last sentence was imbibed with bitterness. It hurt him, to think that his best friend had no real family to speak of.

You're going to live with me, at Malfoy Manor.

What?!

It was Harry's turn to be shocked.

But, your parents...what would they say? I mean...

Oh, they won't care. My mother lets me do whatever I please, and Lucius isn't at home enough to be bothered. He's too busy off pretending to be innocent to the Ministry of Magic, coward that he is.

Harry's head jerked up.

You're not going to be like him, then? You're not going to be a Death Eater?

Of course not. Even though there is that old saying - "Like father, like son" - it's not true in my case. I don't think that what Voldemort was doing to the wizarding world is right, in any sense of the word. I don't give a damn what he does to Muggles and Mudbloods, though. But anyway, I'll owl my mother now, and tell her that you'll be coming to live with us. What will your Aunt and Uncle say?

Oh, they'll be delighted. Overjoyed that I won't impose on them for any longer.

I'm going to love having you live with me, Harry.

Are you sure it won't be a problem? It's one thing to have a friend stay overnight, or for a few days, but to live?

The Manor is huge, Harry. I bet I'd be able to sneak you in and no one would notice. It won't be a problem, I can assure you. Now, let's go write to my mother.

Both boys stood up and, ignoring curious glances from Crabbe, Goyle and Blaise. They went down to the common room, where there were only a few people were lingering. Draco asked

one of the prefects how long they had until curfew, and he replied that there were 20 minutes left. Draco grabbed a spare piece of parchment, borrowed a quill and began writing.

Dear Mother,

I hope this letter finds you well. I'm enjoying Hogwarts immensely; I've made several new friends, including some of the older students. The Slytherins are all very loyal to each other, as Father said, but all of the other houses dislike us.

The reason I am writing to you is to ask permission for my friend, Harry Potter, to come and live with us at Malfoy Manor. I understand that this probably isn't considered normal, as I have only known him for a few days, but I deem it to be necessary. The Muggles he lives with at the moment are disgusting. Harry's told me all about them; they make him scrub floors and such, like he's a common house elf! I know that you will agree with me most heartily, Mother, that this is hardly proper treatment for Harry Potter, a Pureblooded wizard. It's with this knowledge that I again ask you - plead with you, even - for you to grant permission.

I await your owl eagerly. Take care, Mother.

Your loving son,

Draco.

Narcissa's loving son stood and handed the letter to his best friend, so he could read it. Draco noticed an amused smile on Harry's face as he gave it back.

"Do you always write so formally to your mother?" he asked.

"Well, yes. I know that if I prove myself to be worthy of Malfoy blood - this is one way, by showing that I have eloquence, like a true Malfoy - then she will grant me whatever I wish. Her, and my father," Draco replied, smiling.

Harry nodded, absorbing this,

"So you really think that she'll let me live with you?" Harry asked hesitatingly.

"Of course she will," Draco replied dismissively.

Draco folded the letter, sealed it with his Dragon family seal and walked over to his owl's cage. He tied the letter to her leg, told her to deliver the letter to his mother, and let her out the common room door.

"Strictly speaking, owls aren't supposed to be in the corridors, but who will be wandering around this late?" Draco said.

Harry nodded, and both of the boys began to walk back into their dormitory in silence. When they got back in, Harry whispered "Nox", and his lantern was extinguished. Falling back into his bed, he barely managed to draw his hangings before falling asleep.

Meanwhile, a hooded and cloaked wizard had encountered Draco's owl on a nightly stroll through the halls of Hogwarts.

"Well, well," he murmured to himself, "what have we here?"

He tapped the parchment with his wand, opening it without breaking the seal. He quickly read over the contents, somewhat surprised, but resealed the parchment and tied it back to the owl's leg. She continued on her flight to Malfoy Manor, and the wizard continued his walk through the dark corridors of the sleeping school, brooding over the Malfoy boy's letter...