Harry James Potter was a fairly normal boy. He didn't have many friends, his aunt and uncle were unequivocally nasty towards him at all hours of the day and he had a cupboard as his permanent residency. Overall he couldn't say his childhood had been very bright. But today was his ninth birthday, and the young lad felt a small sense of hope quivering in his heart. No one ever remembered his birthday, but for Harry, another year gone by meant another year survived. Another year wiser, bigger, and closer to something… anything different from the life he was living now.

Sitting on his dusty cot under the stairs, he thought about all the promises of growing up. Perhaps he could run away in a few years, once he had gotten a job and made some money. Once he had the resources and the wit to make a one-way train ride out to the continent amount to more than just a destitute youth perishing on the street.

His thoughts trailed off to other matters of less importance as grew tired from waiting until midnight to wish himself a happy birthday. Crazy fantasies like what if he could fly. Soar off to a crowded city in America or something of that sort where there were so many people that someone would be forced to talk to him. Harry's mind eventually settled on dreams of his parents, who he couldn't remember except for the smile in his father's eyes and the vibrancy that seemed to radiate off of his mother.

Loosing rapidly the battle with sleep, the boy reached up to grasp the light switch, sighing to himself that it wasn't all bad. Today was his birthday, maybe tomorrow would bring something new.

"Boy!"

Harry jolted awake as he heard a billowing outside his door. Scrambling to get himself up and conscious, he threw the door of his cupboard open to find Uncle Vernon standing on the other side. His scowl was as menacing as usual and dripping with blind hatred towards his nephew.

"Now see here," Vernon began gruffly, "the company picnic is this afternoon and for whatever godforsaken reason, my employer saw fit to dig into my personal affairs and now has personally insisted that you are to attend as well. Some dribble about hiding relatives posing a bad name to the company. Well if he knew the ungrateful, sniveling worm I was keeping from his doorstep he would be signing a different tune. Isn't that right?"

"Yes Uncle Vernon," Harry managed as politely as he could.

"We're leaving in a half an hour, so freshen up. Put something on that doesn't make you look like the freak you are, understood?"

Harry simply nodded, too afraid that his lips would betray him with a scathing or uninvolved remark.

Content with the way his orders were received, Vernon marched off into the kitchen where Petunia had taken to making breakfast earlier than Harry normally rose.

Harry closed the door ever so quietly, as to not procure anymore attention from his relatives than necessary, and slowly lowered himself down to the floor.

An hour later found Harry and the Dursleys rolling up to the long, cobblestone path that lead to a manor half a mile down the road.

"Is this it?" Petunia balked in disbelief.

"Yes," Vernon grumbled, "Grunnings came under new ownership a few months back. The man running it now is one of those aristocratic types. One of those rich families of a once powerful lordship who are just too big for their britches, if you ask me, a little too high and mighty to come down and mingle with the regular folk."

"Well are you on good terms at least?" Petunia piped, worried that her husband might have ruined any future invitations to the home without ever crossing their doorway.

"Slightly, he commended me once on my effort when he came in to review the office workers but his glare was unusually cold. As if he didn't know whether or not to kill me on the spot. What I ever did to the man I haven't the faintest idea," the man exasperated, "come on, the sooner we arrive the faster we can leave."

The home in question was expansive in its grounds. The front exterior flowed elegantly with roman-style columns and engraved designs of celestial inspiration. Standing at five floors high and obviously vast in dimension, the driveway was already riddled with cars and families flooding out by the dozen. When the four occupants of Vernon's car were finally out and orderly, they crossed the lawn slowly and followed the large crowd that was circumventing the building headed for its backyard.

Backyard was probably an inappropriate way to put it. It was more like a small field surrounded by exotic flora and fauna that separated the house from the stables, guest cottages and ultimately the forest and the very edge of the grounds. It was surprisingly bright and welcoming for the impression that the front of the house gave, Harry thought.

He stood at the iron-gate entrance to the back for a minute or so, breathing in the beauty of life inhabiting it. He wasn't allowed to go many places, and certainly not anywhere as nice as this. It was the most magical place he had ever seen.

Harry was quickly snapped out of his thoughts by sharp force of his Aunt's nails digging into his right shoulder as she pushed him forward.

"You're not embarrassing us with any nonsense. I don't care if you have to hold your breath until you can't see straight, you will behave," she hissed low enough for only him to here. "Now we're introducing ourselves to the host and his family together since they requested you be here so don't make them regret it."

"Ok," he replied in a small voice.

"Here we are," Petunia's tone instantly transformed to her typical diplomatically polite façade that she applied to all adults that garnered her respect or envy. Pulling Harry closer to herself, she intertwined her hand with Vernon's just as he and Dudley arrived at the main table to greet the homeowners.

"Mr. Malfoy," Vernon smiled tightly with an over-enthused voice, "thank you again for inviting all of us to your home."

The man in question stood to shake Vernon's hand, "oh it's no trouble at all. The manor has been in my family for generations but hasn't had the chance to see many functions in the last decade. It used to be a hub of starlets and dignitaries. It didn't seem right to keep everyone in the park by the bakery when there was a perfectly decent place here that was begging for human interaction."

"Yes, yes does seem like quite a shame not to show off this lovely venue," Vernon chuckled lightly trying to ease off the tension he felt. "Oh and this is my family," he beamed proudly. "My wife Petunia, my son Dudley, and… well this is Petunia's sister's son, Harry," he nearly chocked out the last part.

The blonde man scanned over them briefly, lingering for a moment on Harry and his spectacles before clearing his throat, "pleasure to meet all of you. And this," he gestured grandly at the two people rising from their seats, "is mine, my wife Narcissa and our son, Draco."

"It's so nice to finally meet you all," Narcissa reached over to give Petunia a cordial, albeit awkward, hug. "Lucius has told us so much about you."

"Good things, I hope." Petunia bantered lightly.

"Oh of course," Lucius dismissed. "Nothing but sunshine, rainbows and butterflies," he quipped. The adults all laughed in response, the nerves of the Dursleys visibly lessened as the illusion of their welcome grew concrete.

"Mother," Draco spoke finally.

"Yes Darling?"

"May I take Harry inside and show him the library? I think he'd rather like it."

"Why don't you ask Harry what he would like to do?" She suggested gently.

Harry's eyes grew to the size of saucers. No had ever asked him what he wanted.

"Harry would you like to see the Malfoy library? It's quite nice," Draco's lips quirked up in a timid smile.

Harry continued to blink, and honestly wondered if this was just another child playing a cruel trick on him when a particularly hard pinch by Petunia shocked him back into reality. "Um yeah, that would be great."

And then in another astonishing move, Draco took Harry by the hand and quickly pulled him forward and across the porch to enter the dark building that was his house.

If the outside of the house was grand, then the library was better than the Taj Mahal. Harry gawked at each and every book section as Draco pointed them out to him.

"And this…" Draco waited to regain the other's boy attention before continuing. Harry blushed slightly, ashamed at his own poor manners, as the blonde resumed "is the best part of the library." He stated this smugly as he gestured to at the large back wall that was close to twenty feet high and brimming with larger, mustier volumes.

Harry crinkled his nose, "why is this any better than the other books?"

"Well it is a library after all. Pick one and see for yourself."

After selecting a blue hard-bond work that was smaller and easier to carry than most of the books on the shelves in his reach, Harry looked over the cover for a moment.

"Introduction to Arithmancy? What's that?"

"I'd show you if I could, but it's hard to explain. Here," Draco reached for a burnt orange book with golden lettering, "this one isn't as baffling."

The book read Hexes of the Twentieth Century in bold, squiggling letters. Flipping the book over and examining the chapters, Harry was growing equally perplexed and intrigued. "Mind if I give it a read?"

"Sure, we've got time." Draco proceeded to show Harry one of his favorite reading spots on the windowsill facing the gardens. "See that?" he pointed towards a clearing near the stables.

"Yea… are those large white birds roaming around?"

"Ah, not just any, they're our peacocks."

"I thought peacocks were supposed to be blue and brown."

"Most are, breeding albino peacocks is a bit of a hobby for my parents."

"Strange hobby," Harry thought out loud, only to cover his mouth in horror. "I didn't mean that."

"No it's alright. I think it's kind of weird too."

They stayed very quiet after that. Harry became very engrossed on a chapter entailing the process behind creating a hex that leaves your opponent under the distinct hallucination that he or she is falling in quicksand or into a deep cavern depending one the inflection of the incantation.

"Draco?" Harry said after some time.

"Yea?"

"Why are you being so nice to me?"

Draco frowned, "what do you mean? All I did was show you the library."

"No you also asked me if I actually wanted to, and let me touch your books and even let me read one. Which I don't really understand how any of this stuff is possible but it's fascinating. And you haven't made fun of me yet or called me freak or anything." Harry still couldn't believe words continued to come out of his mouth; it was odd that he could say anything around Draco without getting punished for it or regretting it.

"That isn't being nice, Harry. That's just me not being a wanker. Anyone can do that."

"No one does for me," he admitted, his face dropping more by the minute.

"No one? Not even your family?"

"Especially not them."

Draco mulled over this and, against his more logical judgment, decided to remedy a bad situation. "Dobby!" he called loudly.

Harry jumped when a small, wrinkly creature suddenly materialized in front of where he and Draco were sitting.

"Master Draco! Mistress Narcissa says not to contact Dobby near muggles." The creature squeaked frantically.

"Relax, Dobby, this one isn't a muggle." Draco assured the skittish thing.

Harry's brows furrowed deeply. "What's a muggle?"

"Someone who can't do magic," Draco shrugged him off, "now Dobby can you let Mother know that I need her up in the library as soon as possible?"

Dobby nodded before snapping his fingers and vanishing once again.

"What was that?!" Harry demanded.

"A house elf, haven't you seen one before?" Draco seemed just as confused as Harry.

"No, how could I? And what's all of this about magic?" he glanced down at the book in his lap "Does explain why I kept reading about wands, though. But magic doesn't exist."

"Yes it does," Draco huffed.

"It can't," Harry persisted.

"And why not?"

"Because who's ever seen anything…well…magical!"

"Obviously not you," Draco snarked. "Honestly, what kind of family doesn't even let their nephew be a wizard?"

"But I'm not a wizard," Harry stressed. "Even if there are wizards, I can't be one."

"And why not, Mr. Potter?" a voice called out from the doorway. A tall man with dark hair and piercing black eyes stepped into view not long after.

"Uncle Severus!" Draco jumped off the seat and ran into his uncle's arms.

"Hello, Dragon," Sev relinquished a very small smile for the boy. "Now what's this about Harry Potter not being a wizard? Does living with muggles induce a perverted sense of humor? Because I fail to find this amusing."

"Because I'm not, sir," Harry addressed the man as calmly as he could, feeling that everything was getting out of hand. "I can't use a wand or make potions or—hang on…how did you know my name?"

"How could I not?" the man was cold and sarcastic in his retort.

"Uncle Sev, be nice," Draco admonished him.

"Well I'm sorry but who doesn't know the name Harry Potter?"

"I didn't," Harry answered honestly, "until I was six."

The snear on Snape's face was soon lost completetly. "Is that so?"

"Yea, Aunt Petunia didn't want to, but she had to tell me my name so I would answer to it in school."

"What did you go by before that?" Draco inquired.

"Boy, freak, stuff like that. I still do only when it's just me and the Dursleys."

The room was very still. No one made a single move until Draco saw a glint of a tear silently slipping from the younger boy's eye. He swiftly wrapped his arms around Harry's shoulders and coaxed him further into the hug.

"It's ok, Harry," the blonde whispered, "you can cry if you want."

With that his resolve crumbled and for the first time in his life, Harry Potter held on tightly as he broke down in the embrace of a boy he had only just met.

Later that night found Harry in the safety of another room within Malfoy Manor, his own.

The raven head slept soundly surrounded by mounds of pillows as Narcissa watched from the door. Gazing intently and reeling at all of the atrocity of the situation in her mind. When she felt satisfied that Harry was unlikely to wake any time soon, she walked slowly off to her own bedroom.

Lucius was waiting in his bath robe, reading the Daily Prophet on the bed when she arrived. "How is he?"

Narcissa shook her head, "alright but not as good as I would have hopped. We should have taken him from that awful pig and his harpy wife years ago."

"Albus would have intervened, Cissa" Lucius pointed out, "what would we have done then?"

"Given him severe rashes and blue hair until he listened to reason," she growled, "did you see the bruises he was hiding under those grubby tatters they had him wearing?"

"Yes I did, darling," failing to calm his wife at all, "he's here now, we'll take care of him. Let's be thankful we didn't get him in a worse state."

"Oh yes," she snorted, "let's be thankful he's only bruised and battered with ten bones out of place and re-grown incorrectly. He could have internal bleeding or sexual abuse to match!"

"Cissa calm down this instant! You are doing this boy no favors whatsoever by screeching like a mermaid!" Lucius barked.

Narcissa composed herself as best she could, "Lucius, listen to me very carefully. I don't care about plans anymore, to hell with all of it. That boy will not be going with the Weasleys. He is staying right here where I can make sure he is allowed to be a child."

Lucius carded a hand through his hair, "you know what the Order wants. That is completely against the plan. They want him surrounded by people who can love him."

"And we can't do that for him?"

He reconsidered this all for a while before simply replying "the Order wants a warrior."

"No, what they want is a one-man army that will take up all the responsibility and sacrifice for them," she stalked off irritated into their walk-in closet. "What they need is a leader. Which, in case they haven't noticed, cannot in anyone's right mind be a boy!"

"He won't be a boy forever," Lucius offered.

"But he will have missed being one all together. Then what? All of his life leading up to a moment of purpose and then no one will need him." She grew angrier while looking through her clothing for a particular item, "unless of course it involves a 'celebrity' appearance or, heaven forbid, a political office because they're all too stupid to run the damn Ministry of Magic well."

Reappearing from the wardrobe with a heavier cloak, Narcissa was firm in her resolution, "I'll be back shortly." And then she stormed off towards the floo in the entrance hall.

"Where are you going?!" Lucius yelled after her.

"To see Molly! No mother in good conscious will go with this plan after this!"

"I just hope you're right," he said more to himself than anyone in particular.