Update! Well, I've revised this, and um, hopefully it's better than the first time around, so, well, you might want to read it. :D
A/N: Well, this is my first time writing a fic, let alone a slash fic. :| Hopefully it doesn't suck too much... Please read and review! I have to know if I should dump my head in a bucket and drown myself or pat myself on the back for this. :D Thanks! Please don't flame though, I have a fragile ego. ;) By the way, if you don't like slash... What are you doing here in the first place?
Rating: Er, PG-13? Tell me if I should change it, 'cause I really have no experience in this. I don't think it's explicit or anything though, and that's saying something.
Description: What if Draco had opened the door of the cabinet Harry was hiding in at Borgin and Burkes that day? Takes place in Year 2 but doesn't affect the story. Well, a little. A short fic from both Draco's and Harry's POV. Slash.
Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns everything. :) Don't think she's into slash though. ;)
''Touch nothing, Draco,'' Father said to me just after he rang the bell on the counter of Borgin and Burkes. I drew back from the glass eye that had captured my attention and turned away sourly.
''I thought you were going to buy me a present.''
''I said I would buy you a racing broom,'' he said with the note of finality in his voice that I was all too familiar with. Yes, a racing broom ¨C fat lot of use that was. It wasn't as if I didn't have a good one already - I'm a Malfoy, could anything I own not be good?
''What's the good of that if I'm not in the house team? Harry Potter got a Nimbus Two Thousand last year. Special permission from Dumbledore just so he could play for Gryffindor. He's not even that good, it's just because he's famous... famous for having a stupid scar on his forehead...''
I felt a mixture of jealousy and admiration as I thought of Potter at the Quidditch match against Slytherin last year. He was that good, better than that, in fact, especially when you considered the fact that he was a bloody first-year at the time. To think I was the one responsible for getting him onto the house team! It wasn't just frustrating, it was infuriating. How was it possible that it had been his first time on a broomstick? Most unfair, to say the least. But you had to admire his talent for Quidditch; when he was on his broomstick, it was as if it was a part of him as he soared through the air. (A/N: Now, now, no dirty thoughts.) In fact, he looked really...
What am I thinking? I wanted to slap myself. My face was burning and I bent down quickly, pretending to look at the skulls on a shelf. Suddenly I felt like one of those Hufflepuff girls who almost fainted every time they saw Potter walking along the corridors because he was ''just so cute!''. Yes, I heard them say that myself ¨C They. Are. Not. My. Own. Words! Hoping Father hadn't noticed anything, I continued my tirade.
''...everyone thinks he's so smart, wonderful Potter with his scar and his broomstick ¨C '' /And so do you.../ said a little voice in my head. I squashed it quickly before it could pollute my brain any further. What was with me today? Since when did I ever think of Potter as anything more than the object of my affecti... I mean, abhorrence?
Father looked at me witheringly and I looked straight back into his eyes; I had long ago become immune to his constant disapproving looks. ''You have told me this at least a dozen times already, and I would remind you that...'' I tuned him out and busied myself with looking at the various displays in the shop, mentally scoffing at most of them. Really, the items here were nothing compared to what was hidden below the drawing room in Malfoy Manor.
I watched Malfoy walking around the gloomy shop, examining the different objects on the shelves. As his father informed Mr. Borgin that he wanted to sell some items in his house that might ''embarrass'' him, Malfoy walked around with his usual look of superiority on his face as he peered at the displays. Even with his back toward me, I could just imagine him with his signature smirk as he observed the foul masks on the wall. Isn't it strange how people remember these things about their enemies?
Hold on. No! I didn't try to remember his face! It's just that... that... Er. Never mind.
I listened intently to the conversation between the two men. When I heard Mr. Malfoy call Ron's dad a ''flea-bitten, Muggle-loving fool'', I suddenly had the urge to jump out of the cupboard and do... something. Strangle him, maybe, but that cane in his hand looked quite threatening. (A/N: I got the cane thing from the movie! :D) Besides, I didn't stand much of a chance against him, having not grown much during the summer. I sighed, not wanting to remind myself of the discouraging fact.
Suddenly, Malfoy said loudly, ''Can I have that?'' and pointed to the withered hand on its cushion. I shook my head absently. Trust him to choose something as gross as that among all the items in the shop.
''Ah, the Hand of Glory! Insert a candle and it gives light only to the holder! Best friend of thieves and plunderers! Your son has fine taste, sir,'' said Mr. Borgin as he hurried over to Malfoy. I nearly choked in disbelief.
Fine taste. Right.
''Your son has fine taste, sir,'' Mr. Borgin said greasily. I rolled my eyes. Could anyone be more of a boot-licker? It was quite disgusting, really. I'd never had much respect for people who, excuse the crudeness of this next phrase, sucked up to the Malfoys.
''I hope that my son will amount to more than a thief or plunderer, Borgin.'' Father said icily, and as Mr. Borgin hurriedly rushed to express his apologies, Father continued in an even colder tone, ''Though if his school marks don't pick up, that may indeed be all he is fit for.''
I immediately flushed. Evidently, he still hadn't forgiven me for not coming out top of the year; a few of the bruises that were inflicted on me after the end of last term still hadn't faded. It wasn't as if my grades were terrible, I pride myself on the fact that they were actually much higher than the average for the first-years. But no, he was top of his year, so by his standards, nothing else was acceptable.
(A/N: I know fics usually put Lucius and MWPP in the same year, but I don't think that's really what happened. Has J.K. said anything about this? Anyway, in my mind, Lucius is older than James. I don't know why, it just is. :D Thus, for now, Lucius is top of his year and James/Sirius is top of his. :D)
''It's not my fault, the teachers all have favourites, that Hermione Granger ¨C ''
Father cut me off coldly. ''I would have thought you'd be ashamed that a girl of no wizard family beat you in every exam.'' He just had to keep rubbing it in. The reason why he had been particularly furious was because a Muggle-born had gotten better grades than me. It was all Granger's fault ¨C who asked her to be such a bloody know-it-all? I was going to get back at her this year no matter what it took. (A/N: Wow! Another explanation for why he called her a Mudblood! That came out of nowhere. :D)
I tried to retort angrily, but stopped, knowing it was no use to argue. Feeling embarrassed, I turned away.
I wanted to do a jig in the cabinet at Malfoy's reprimanding. His grades were above average, but unfortunately for him, Hermione would probably always beat him. That was one thing he definitely couldn't deny, no matter how egotistical he was.
Mr. Borgin and Malfoy's father started to discuss the prices of the items on the list, and I held my breath as Malfoy came nearer and nearer to the cabinet, still sulking. Just for a second, he looked like an adorable little boy before he stopped at the display of a hangman's rope and at an opal necklace, the sulk turning into a smirk at the contents of the card. I was no longer listening to the adults' conversation, noticing something I never had before: he actually looked quite good when he smiled.
I froze, realising exactly what my last few thoughts had been. 'Adorable' and 'good-looking' were not supposed to be on the list of 'How to Describe Draco Malfoy'! 'Vile', yes, 'loathsome', yes, but of all things, 'adorable'? I was completely mortified at what my brain could come up with. It had to be the lack of oxygen in here.
Yes, that had to be it.
''Caution: Do Not Touch. Cursed ¨C Has Claimed the Lives of Nineteen Muggle Owners to Date.''
I laughed to myself as I read the card on the display of an opal necklace. Muggles ¨C would they ever not be useless fools? Nineteen of them had to die before they even realised there was something wrong with the item! How absolutely pathetic; it was just as well that the world was rid of some of them, anyway.
Suddenly I had the strange feeling I was being watched, and very closely at that. Turning to my right, I saw a large black cabinet in front of me. I looked back to check if Mr. Borgin was still busy with my father's list. Confirming that he was, I walked forward and reached out to pull the handle, not bothering about what might be lurking in the cupboard.
I carefully opened the cabinet door, making sure it didn't creak and attract any attention. As I looked down into the darkness, I could just about make out blinking, bright green eyes and black-rimmed spectacles. Harry James Potter was sitting in a corner, trying to pretend he was a part of the wood.
''Well, well, well. I see you've a liking for dark cabinets, Potter. Hanging around Weasley so much that you now like, shall I say, humble spaces? Though I suppose this cupboard is bigger than his entire house,'' Malfoy said softly, barely loud enough for me to hear.
''Shut up, Malfoy.'' I said, staring up at his face through my broken glasses and observing him. I was now able to see him clearly with no door as an obstruction and his hair shone even though the room was extremely dim. His face, as usual, had a smirk on it, his lips quirked up but somehow perfect. Those eyes... Were they really such a perfect shade of silvery-grey? He'd grown a few inches since I last saw him, and his frame was now slightly leaner as he leaned against one of the cupboard doors, arms folded across his chest as his head cocked to one side.
What the... Did I just check out Malfoy? I wanted to die. Now.
''What do you think will happen if I call Mr. Borgin over, Potter? Won't be too pleased about the Boy Who Lived hiding in his cupboard, I should think,'' taunted Malfoy, who was quite unable to hide his amusement at discovering me in what was quite obviously a shop meant for the Dark Arts, his domain.
I stood up quickly, glanced behind and saw that the many shelves were hiding us from the shopkeeper's view... for now. As Malfoy gazed at me, a curious expression on his face, I clamped my hand over his mouth. ''Mmph!''
''Shut up,'' I hissed, hurriedly trying to pull him down into a sitting position so we ¨C or rather, I ¨C wouldn't be seen.
Potter shot up so fast I thought something had poked him in the rear. He squinted over my shoulder at the displays behind us and seemed to sigh with relief inwardly. I held back a smile ¨C he looked so jumpy, it was almost cute.
Before the voice in my head had a chance to say ''I told you so!'' Potter put his hand over my mouth and tried to pull me down, telling me to shut up. Caught off guard, I landed quite ungracefully with my head hitting the floor and Potter landing on top of me. I inhaled sharply at the contact. It was astounding how Father still hadn't discovered us yet, considering the noise we had just made. Potter still hadn't taken his hand away, and I wasn't about to stop him. I waited for his reaction.
''Malfoy, please. I'm in enough trouble already as it is. I don't even know where or what this place is. Just... please.'' He stared into my eyes pleadingly, not making any attempt to move away. My heartbeat sped up and I couldn't breathe ¨C and it wasn't because he was suffocating me. He just looked so... lost. Was it possible for anyone to be so utterly tantalising yet angelic at the same time?
I gently took his hand away from my mouth. He blinked and stared at my hand on his wrist, momentarily confused. Without even stopping to consider the consequences, I tilted my head up slightly and kissed him.
I nearly fainted. Malfoy was kissing me. The fact refused to register itself in my brain and I was in shock. I closed my eyes involuntarily, letting my emotions take over, for once. Maybe I was supposed to think ''He's taking advantage of you!''. I was definitely supposed to think, ''This is Malfoy! It's completely disgusting!''. But the only thing I could feel was his lips against mine and only thought in my head was that even though this was crazy, it was amazing and wonderful and something I'd never felt before and somehow I was dead sure that I could never feel the same thing again with anyone else. Slowly, my free hand that wasn't being gripped by his reached up to touch his face and my fingers traced his cheek.
This action seemed to wake him up from the trance. He practically shoved me off of him and backed away. I recoiled in... what was it, really? Disgust? Or was it... disappointment? I stared at him, he stared at the glass eye, and the glass eye, well, stared at whatever it was staring at. I started to move toward him, but he kept his eyes trained resolutely on the glass orb, refusing to look at me.
Suddenly, Mr. Malfoy's voice rang out. ''Done. Come, Draco!''
''I've got to go. See you at school, Potter,'' Malfoy said shakily, avoiding my gaze. He got up and brushed off his robes, striding toward the door composedly to join his father. I stared at his retreating back and gulped, desperately trying to slow my heartbeat and squelching the by now obvious disappointment I felt. He couldn't just walk away like that! But he wasn't obligated to anything or anyone, least of all me.
Quietly, I turned and crept back into the cabinet and shut the door, hugging my knees to myself and trying to figure out what had just happened.
I fiddled with my robes and stared at the glass eye that I wanted to examine when I had first stepped into the shop, not wanting to look at Potter. I wasn't quite sure that I could stop myself from kissing him again if I saw the hurt look that was sure to be on his face. Thank goodness, Father unknowingly broke the awkward silence as he called for me and closed his deal with Mr. Borgin.
''I've got to go. See you at school, Potter,'' I mumbled to the boy on the floor as I stood up, feeling like my legs were jelly. My mind was in a whirl, still thinking of the kiss, the way he responded and how he touched my face, nearly making me faint. I walked over to Father as he stood at the door waiting for me.
''Good day to you, Mr. Borgin, I'll expect you at the manor tomorrow to pick up the goods,'' said Father curtly as he opened the door and left the shop, not looking back to acknowledge the shopkeeper's reply. I turned and my gaze lingered on what I could see of the cupboard, which was now closed.
''Goodbye, Potter,'' I said softly, and walked out the door.
A/N: So, how was it? I'm really sorry if it sucked, it didn't seem that great after I wrote it... -sigh- Please review! Thanks! :)