Author: Alohomoraize PM
Take the story of Cinderella, add a bit of magic and Drarry, ban all logic and voilà.Rated: Fiction K - English - Romance/Hurt/Comfort - Harry P. - Words: 2,774 - Reviews: 2 - Favs: 15 - Follows: 4 - Published: 03-10-12 - Status: Complete - id: 7911116
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Disclaimer: Harry Potter is all J.K. Rowling's, I do not own any of the characters or the fairytale this fic is based on. This fan fiction is provided for entertainment purposes only.
Once upon a time, there was a rich man called Lucius Malfoy. He lived happily together with his only son Draco. Draco's mother had passed away and although Draco never seemed to dwell on that fact too much, Lucius felt that Draco needed a mother figure in his life.
And so, he married Bellatrix Lestrange, mother of the two twin sisters Millicent and Pansy.
The two step-sisters tormented Draco regularly, but never too severe because if Lucius would find out, he'd divorce their mother and all their chances for Bellatirx to inherit his money would be lost.
But, much to Draco's despair, Lucius got ill. And soon after that, died.
Before the twins even found the time to select a fashionable outfit for the funeral, Bellatrix hurried towards Lucius's study in search of his will.
But, she could not locate it. No one could.
'Stupid Bellatrix and her damned daughters', Draco grunted while scrubbing the already clean floors with his toothbrush.
Ever since his father's death he was doomed to this fate: cleaning, cooking, laundry… He was basically one of the many house-elves who had left the Manor after Pansy and Millicent had set them free to make Draco's life even more difficult. But the worst part of it all?
He had to do it in a dress.
And not even a pretty one at that; a bloody maid dress, including an apron.
But would that be enough punishment for his existence? No, high heels were obviously a necessity.
As he smiled at his reflection in the shiny floor, his stepsisters came home from probably another shopping trip.
'Mother! Mother!', they chanted in unison while 'accidentally' spilling their chocolate milkshakes on the floor so Draco could go clean it up.
'Come, come, girls, no need to shout, those are no manners for young ladies like you', Bellatrix said coldly as she strode down the stairs.
'But mother!', they said, 'the Prince is giving a ball where he will be looking for his future partner! Everyone is invited!'
'Well, well', Bellatrix said and her gaze lingered for a moment on the spilled liquid on the floor and looked back at her daughters, 'this may be a great chance for one of you, do not disappoint me. And you!', she said while pointing her finger at Draco, 'fix our dresses!'
Our dresses he thought. Might there be a chance for him to attend the ball? He tried to maintain his poker face, but apparently Bellatrix had already noticed the tiny hopeful glint in his eyes.
'Don't even think you even stand a chance, you're a boy, and an ugly one at that. And clean that bloody floor!' she said an strode away again, dragging her daughters with her.
When all his chores were done and the sun had gone down for what seemed like ages, he crawled onto his bed and curled up into a ball.
One day this will all be over, he thought. One day.
The next week Draco spent all his time working on the gowns of his so-called family. That, and his usual chores of course. And every time his and his step-sisters' paths crossed, they bullied him about the ball he wasn't allowed to attend.
When the day of the ball finally arrived, Draco watched Millicent, Pansy and Bellatrix leave in their pretty gowns and smile at him with such mockery that Draco wanted to rip those dresses apart and have them go in their underwear. Good luck courting the prince while looking like that!
But Draco composed himself, no matter how he looked like or how his position was at the house he was still a Malfoy. And Malfoys never lose composure.
Just as he had calmed down completely, he spotted a dark figure in the other room.
Warily he fetched a sword of one of the knight statues in the hall and approached the figure.
When he finally came to realise this was exactly as one of those muggle bimbos in scary movies love to do, the figure turned around and looked him in the eye; it was Severus Snape.
But that couldn't be, Severus Snape's body had been found some years ago. While everyone assumed Bellatrix – his former wife at the time – had poisoned him, no evidence could be found. So what was he doing in his house when he should be in a coffin instead?
And the most important question of them all: why was Snape wearing a dress?
'It's not a dress, it's a robe, silly boy', the man said.
Yes, Occlumency had never been Draco's thing.
'Look at you, what would your father have said if he saw you like this?' Severus Snape asked and scrunched his nose.
'Which is the exact reason why I'm here really. I'm your fairy godfather. And before you go on and on about how I should have some sparkly wand and wings to go with my robe, we must do something about your situation', he said. 'First, let's change your outfit', he sneered and waved around with his not-so-sparkly wand. Immediately after that Draco's dress seemed to change, instead of a black maid dress it became a lovely gown in a soft shade of pink.
Next to go were Draco's shoes and were replaced by high heels.
'I trust you can do your make-up and hair yourself', he drawled and pointed at the front door. 'Outside there's a carriage waiting for you, it will take you to the ball'.
Draco nodded and a smile curved his lips.
'Oh, and just one more thing, this spell will only last until twelve 'o clock', he drawled and then disappeared in thin air.
Still slightly bewildered by the whole situation, Draco quickly applied some make-up, did his hair and rushed towards a carriage that looked a suspicious amount like a broom shed.
To the ball.
It didn't take long for the carriage to arrive at the castle and Draco was let in by one of the knights whose eyes seemed to linger a tad too long on Draco. Luckily he didn't say anything and allowed him access to the castle.
Soon after that Draco found himself in a gigantic ballroom that was richly decorated and held a lot of overdressed people. Slightly nervous he looked around, not remembering his father's lessons on what do to at such a fancy gathering like this and suddenly became very aware of three women at the other side of the ballroom.
Just when he wanted to bolt out of the room out of anxiety, a man showed up behind him.
'Excuse me, beautiful. May I have this dance?' He asked and held his hand out.
A bit startled Draco examined the man, expensive clothes, handsome features, perfect manners… He must be the prince.
Draco let himself be lead towards the centre of the room and danced with the prince. At first it was a bit awkward since he had learned only the male part of the dance, but the prince didn't even seem really bothered about his clumsiness.
For what seemed like ages dancing was all they did and for the brief seconds when Draco looked away from the prince, he caught several jealous glances from young ladies, and to his mirth his stepsisters were one of them.
But the mere thought of his stepsisters reminded him of what Snape had said just before he left: 'this spell will only last until twelve 'o clock'.
Which kind of idiot makes spells only last that short? But Draco had no time to agitate himself about that, because a quick Tempus Charm told him it wouldn't be long until he would reach the damned deadline.
'Excuse me, I have to go, I'm so sorry', he blurted out and ran for the exit. As he swooped down the stairs he didn't even notice his wand falling out of his hand.
He escaped from the castle, made his way back home in the carriage and prayed he wouldn't get into trouble for this one.
His ride back home in the carriage didn't take long, it was even quicker than the first time. All because of a simple reason: Snape kept his word and the carriage transformed back into a broom shed. So there stood Draco in his underwear just a few feet away from the castle, his father would probably roll in his grave.
'Well, I'm sure the papers will be delighted to try and solve the mystery of the enigmatic broom shed on the street', he cursed under his breath.
The next day Draco found the papers full of talk about the beautiful young lady who had made her way into the prince's heart, but had publicly stood him up in front of the whole town.
Rita Skeeter for example had portrayed the girl as a 'blasphemous demon wench intent on causing the prince grief'. Yet the Quibbler speculated the girl might have been just shy when she found out the prince fancied her.
As for the broom shed, the poor thing was burned to death since a couple of muggle farmers thought a witch had planted it there. Which was actually true in a way. Not that it mattered in any way.
All things considered, his 'sort of family' acted annoyingly merry today, all due to the fact that apparently the 'blasphemous demon wench' had lost his wand – Draco's clumsiness be damned - so he was now visiting every single girl in the whole town in order to find out who it belonged to. Draco predicted a lot of girls would 'suddenly' misplace their precious wands if it were not for the prince's companion Ollivander – the best wand maker in the whole country.
Apparently even his stepsisters were still convinced they could deceive them.
For a while Draco toyed with the idea to go to the prince and claim his wand just to wipe away their smirks, but that could never work out well for him. After all the prince was flamingly straight and even if he wasn't – what would the people say? Surely he cared for his reputation too much to cause a scandal.
So Draco did nothing.
Except replacing his stepsister's pâté for cat food for dinner.
Exhausted from his quest to track down his beloved, the prince stood in front of the house of the last family in town he hadn't already visited with Ollivander. Although this was probably his last shot, he was reluctant to find out if any of the women who lived here was in fact the enigmatic girl of last night. Because, truth to be told, he heard the women who lived here were devious, spoiled and conceited like hell. Besides, they're female. He had tried, honestly, to declare his love for men to his parents, but miserably failed. Who was he to take away their hopes of future for him, filled with the joys of marrying a beautiful young girl and have lots of babies with her. Undoubtedly happily ruling the country, stronger and happier than ever before?
Before he could even make his mind up about the matter of announcing his arrival to the household, Ollivander had already knocked on the door.
Just seconds later the door opened and revealed a girl with a horrible haircut, it looked like she carried a flower pot on top of her head. He wanted to scowl and bolt, but his upbringing kept him from that. He politely took her hand and shook it.
'Good afternoon, miss,' he said and released her hand from his grasp.
'A very good afternoon to you too, my prince,' she said while simultaneously giggling like mad.
Ollivander as well made attempts to greet her, but she turned away from him with a snort.
The very same ritual took place with the other two women in the household. Neither of them appealed to the prince.
'My name is Ollivander, I will be testing if you're the owner of the wand. Who wants to go first?' Ollivander asked and the two young girls dove straight ahead, pushing each other and nearly falling to the ground in the process.
At least the what he thought was the mother of the two girls, spoke up and soon Ollivander turned down the girl with the odd haircut.
The prince nearly let out a relieved sigh, but if she wasn't its owner, it had to be one of those two right?
But they as well were eliminated by Ollivander's procedure.
The prince was dumbfounded. Was there some sort of error in Ollivander's methods? But that couldn't be, he hadn't become the most known wand maker in Britain for nothing.
Then could they have missed something, or more likely someone?
Just as he politely said his good-byes and walked through the hall, he saw a girl scrubbing some tiles. No, wait a second, it wasn't a girl, was it? It was a boy. He was merely wearing a dress.
Could he perhaps…? Well, it couldn't hurt to find out right?
As he made his way towards the girlish boy, the mother of the lot tried to stop him. Saying it was nobody and he shouldn't even consider wasting his time on him.
He pushed the annoying woman out of the way and kneeled down in front of the boy.
'Hey,' he said and gestured for Ollivander to come over.
Malfoys do not need to approach damned princes.
Malfoys do not even want to approach cute princes.
And Merlin forbid Malfoys to even long to ravish and taint goddamn sexy princes, because they don't.
And Malfoys also do not eavesdrop on other people.
Especially not when they have goddamn sexy princes over.
Well, let the wrath of the gods come upon him.
In the beginning the whole encounter was excruciatingly frustrating since his stepfamily were constantly trying to touch and flirt with the prince, but after seeing the prince looking the other way nearly set Draco shrieking in pleasure.
Not that Malfoys shriek, mind you.
And every time one of the women was rejected by the wand, Draco could almost swear he saw a tiny smile curving the edges of the prince's mouth.
But that also noted the departure of the man, assuming he didn't have any business here left. And Malfoys do no not eavesdrop, and even if they would they wouldn't let themselves be caught.
So Draco did the first thing he could think of: scrubbing the tiles. Naturally. Even though Draco kept his scrubbing discreet and silent, he noticed the prince had stopped somewhere along the way and started walking in his direction.
The next moment his stepmother was pushed on the ground, the prince was on his knees in front of him and his wand was being reached out to Draco.
He didn't know why, maybe it was the hopeful look the prince gave him or the foresight of having his wand returned to him, but he took it and the second the wand was back in its owner's grasp a surge of magic seemed to enfold him for a while and then it was gone.
The prince then smiled and soon Draco found his lips captured by the other man.
'B-But prince!' Draco spluttered out in a very gentlemanly way.
'Call me Harry,' the prince-Harry said and sealed his mouth with another kiss.
The next day the devious stepfamily left town after Draco found his father's will in one of the storybook he liked to read as a little boy; 'The tales of Beedle the Beard', saying Lucius left all his belongings to Draco (including a vile containing a potion needed for male pregnancy, the bastard knew all along).
And as for the situation between Harry and Draco?
They had another ball in the evening. Only this time to celebrate their wedding.
Both of them wore dresses and danced with each other the whole night long. And with that, I mean the whole night. Not just until twelve 'o clock.