Tiger & Dragon

By loverstouch

Disclaimer: All the characters belong to J.K Rowling. The story is based on Rowling's work, but the plot of 'Tiger & Dragon' comes from my own sick brain.

Summary: In the summer after his fifth year Harry is taken from the Dursleys to live with the Malfoys. The next day the Daily Prophet's headline read 'Boy Who Lived Died In Death Eater Attack' …

Rating: PG-13 for now

This is my first "Slash" fanfiction and the first fic I have published at all, so please go easy on me.

The story begins in the summer after Harry's fifth year, which means yes; it is post OoTP, but has nothing to do with HBP.

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I'd like to thank Draeconin for being the beta for my story. I'm really grateful for your help.

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Hope you enjoy it!

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Chapter 1 - unexpected visitors

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The bell rang.

"Boy!" Vernon Dursley's voice flew through the house of No. 4 Privet Drive. "Get the door!"

It rang again.

"Boy, get your lazy arse down here, and open the door!"

"Not even in the shower do I get any peace," Harry Potter muttered, storming down the stairs while fastening

"You're getting the carpet wet," his cousin stated, as he passed Harry on his way up to his room.

"Couldn't you have opened the damned door? You bloody well knew I would take a shower after you poured sauce all over me."

"Oops. I must have forgotten that." Dudley smirked and vanished up the stairs. Harry stared after him cursing under his breath, when the bell rang once again.

"BOY!"

"I'm there, I'm there," Harry shouted back. "You annoying pig," he added to himself, while he took the last few steps to the door, and opened it.

"BLOODY HELL!" Harry stumbled back and landed half sitting, half lying on the steps.

"Hello to you, too, Potter."

"M-M-Malfoy?" Harry stuttered incredulously.

"Y-Y-Yes," Draco mocked, and stepped into the house followed by none other than-

"BLOODY FUCKING MURDER!" Harry bellowed, and crawled up the steps further without taking his eyes off the second intruder.

"Now I see what it is about him that fascinates you, Draco," Lucius Malfoy stated, silver-blue eyes wandering up and down Harry's now naked form. His towel lay forgotten at the foot of the stairs.

"What the fuck?" Harry's panic rose, as well as his anger, as he realized what Mr Malfoy was referring to. He stormed down the stairs, took his towel from the floor, and fastened it back around his waist.

Standing straight, he took a deep breath and looked up at the two Malfoys standing in front of him, who were smirking as only a real Malfoy could. This was an encounter you wouldn't wish even upon your worst 'Well, Voldemort wouldn't be too impressed by them, I think. But I bet even Snape would tuck his tail between his legs and hide in the darkest corner of the dungeons, that greasy git.' Harry smiled inwardly, and seized the opportunity to inspect his 'visitors' for a few seconds.

Mr. Malfoy was an aristocrat through and through. His posture was majestic, and his behaviour was of pure arrogance. He had silver-blue eyes, and white-blond hair which fell to the middle of his back. He was tall, maybe 6''2', and his never-ending smirk and piercing look underlined his cunning features.

Draco was a carbon copy of his father: same pale skin, same silver-blue eyes and white-blond hair, reaching just below his shoulders. He was mere inches smaller than his father, but his posture was the same aristocratic style. And like his father's was, his build was hidden under expensive looking robes. But Harry knew that under them was a body which could compete with that of a Greek sex god.

'Oh, get a grip, Potter. Why don't you just jump him here and now? Maybe Lucius will be kind enough to let you ravish his son before he kills you.' When Harry realized what he was doing, he shook his thoughts off, and concentrated on the task at hand. "What are-" But before he could finish his question, he was cut off by an angry voice coming from the kitchen.

"What is all this noise about, boy? Who is that?" Never in his life was Harry more grateful to see his Uncle Vernon coming out of the kitchen.

As one, the two Malfoys turned to Uncle Vernon with an expression of pure disgust on their faces. For a moment, Harry considered running to his room and grabbing his wand, but this scene was too fascinating to leave.

"Mr. Dursley, I assume?" Mr. Malfoy's voice made it quite plan that this Muggle was nothing but scum, in his opinion.

"Yes, that is I." Vernon wasn't sure what to think of the people standing in his hallway. They looked important, but something wasn't quite right about them. Did they wear robes? "And who, may I ask-"

"Ask what you wish, Dursley, but don't aspect an answer," Draco cut in, sounding just like his father.

'Like father, like son,' Harry thought, the corner of his mouth twitching up a bit into a small smile, but snorted nonetheless.

All three men looked at him for a second, then continued to stare at each other. But before Draco turned his head back to Vernon he winked, barely noticeably, at Harry.

'What the hell?' Harry's eyes widened in shock. 'What was that?' He stared at Draco, but the blond was still glaring at Uncle Vernon, who by now was as red as Ron Weasley's hair.

"You will what?" he bellowed angrily.

"We will take Mr. Potter with us, and you will pack one trunk each, and go on a trip to your sister Marge within the next thirty minutes," Mr. Malfoy said in an annoyed tone. Obviously, he wasn't used to saying the same thing twice. (The first time, Harry was too shocked about Draco's behaviour to notice anyone speaking.)

"Who do you thing you are, coming in my house and ordering my family to leave? You're as mad as all of your kind, you freak. Hat-"

"Imperio!" Mr. Malfoys cold voice cut Vernon off.

"Bloody hell," Harry whispered, horror-struck.

"What was that?" Vernon asked angrily. "You-You-"

"Hexed you? That's right," Draco said, helping Vernon form his sentence.

"How dare-" All fear forgotten, Vernon raised his hand and took a step forward, ready to slap Draco.

"Dursley." Vernon stopped dead at Mr. Malfoys voice. Harry let out a deep breath, not knowing he had been holding it. For a second he thought he saw Draco letting out a relieved sigh and taking a deep breath, but then he was his usual smirking self again.

'Could it be possible that for a split second Draco had feared a slap from Uncle Vernon?' Harry's eyes rested for a moment on Draco, but then his attention was back to Vernon and Mr. Malfoy.

"You will pack one trunk for each family member, and then you will drive to your sister and stay there the next few days. You have thirty minutes. Go!"

Vernon immediately called Petunia, who was waiting behind the kitchen door, where Harry had seen her shadow under the door - obviously eavesdropping - and the two of them walked up the stairs. As they passed Harry, Vernon grasped his arm and shoved him up the stairs.

"You heard him, boy. Go get dressed and bring your trunk to our room. You won't need it: we do." With another shove from Vernon, Harry stumbled up the stairs.

"No!" Harry heard Draco shout: concerned? They stopped, and turned around. Harry caught Draco's eyes. They held the eye contact for a few moments, with an expression Harry had never seen on him. Their eye contact broke when Lucius spoke.

"Mr. Potter won't pack a trunk, because he won't be going with you on this trip. But you won't take his trunk, either. Now go." Vernon pulled a confused looking Petunia with him, and disappeared to the upper floor. Then Lucius turned to Harry, who looked at him, puzzled. "Mr. Potter, you will go to your room, get dressed, get your wand, and come back down immediately." His demanding glare made Harry angry.

"What makes you believe I would follow your orders?" he asked, annoyed. Mr. Malfoy opened his mouth to answer him, but Harry cut him off. "Oh, and don't waste your time by casting an Imperius curse on me. You know very well that I can block it. I won't let you bring me to your excuse of a Lord without fighting."

"Do you believe we would let you get your wand if we wanted to bring you to Voldemort?" Harry looked at Draco, astonished. He didn't know which was the bigger surprise; that the two Malfoys wouldn't be taking him to Voldemort, or Draco calling the Dark Lord by his name.

"What do you want?" Harry asked, not sure whether or not he wanted to know the answer to his question.

"You-" Draco smirked, but was cut off by his father's cold and demanding voice.

"Draco! Go up with Mr. Potter, and help him pack his belongings."

"But you said-" Harry's confusion rose again. 'Hadn't he said that I can't take anything but my wand?'

"You have ten minutes. Meanwhile, I will see that the Dursleys won't remember our little visit."

"Come on, Potter." Draco grasped Harry's hand, and pulled him up the stairs. Harry walked with him, lost in his thoughts.

'What is going on here? The Malfoys taking me away from the Dursley's, but not to take me to Voldemort? Lucius Malfoy casting Imperius on Uncle Vernon to get him out of the house? And now I'm being pulled up the stairs by Draco Malfoy, who is holding my hand, to pack. Wait… Draco Malfoy is holding my hand?' With that realization, Harry shook off his hand.

"Shove it, Malfoy. I can go on my own."

"Is that so, Potter?" Draco asked innocently. "It took you a while to notice that, didn't it?" He winked at Harry, and moved on.

Just then Harry realized what he meant; they were already all the way up the stairs, and now Draco was standing in front of his room. He opened the door and turned his head back to Harry.

"Will you come on already, Potter?" He took a step inside, but poked his head out once again and smirked at Harry. "Or should I take you by the hand once again?"

Harry blushed. "Damn it," he muttered under his breath, while he walked into the room. He found Draco looking through his trunk when he entered the room.

"Hey, what are you doing?" He took Draco's arm and pulled him away from his trunk.

"Oh, I didn't know you liked it rough, Potter. You just ha-"

"Shut up, Malfoy. Get out."

"I don't think so."

"I have to get dressed."

"Well, go on." Draco smirked at Harry's astonished face. "You don't think I'll let you alone in this room to do god knows what, do you? I'm not daft, Potter."

"Really?" Harry asked innocently. Draco chose to ignore this comment. He walked to the cupboard, and began to rummage through Harry's clothes.

"Urgh, Potter; do you really wear that?" Disgusted, Draco held out some of Dudley's old hand-me-downs.

"Unfortunately, yes. But I will just pull on some of my Hogwarts robes, now."

"No, you won't."

"Why not?"

"They might know that something's missing."

"Who might know?"

"Never mind. Didn't you have other clothes as well? In Hogwarts you wore those blue, washed-out jeans with that hole on the left knee, and a green t-shirt. Where are they? I don't see them in here."

"Why do you know what clothes I have, and where, exactly, they are torn?"

"Believe it or not, but there are more interesting things about you than that ugly scar on your forehead." Draco's eyes wandered over Harry's body.

"Like what?" Harry asked, surprised. But there was a bit teasing in his voice which pulled Draco back to reality.

"Like the fact that the rest of your body is unmarked, and therefore more than enough places for me to hex you. Now get dressed."

"Turn around," Harry demanded.

"For god's sake, Potter. Not fifteen minutes ago I saw you completely naked. Don't you thing it is a bit late to be this prudish?"

"I'm not prudish. It's just that-"

"What?" Draco asked annoyed.

"My things are under the bed, and I don't want you to... You know… When I crawl out, and the towel…"

"For crying out loud. Where are these things?" Draco shoved Harry to the side, and crawled under the bed. "Are you mocking me, Potter? There is nothing here. And I hope for your sake that it's clean here, or I will kill you."

Harry couldn't help but laugh out loud. "You know, Malfoy, I could get used to the sight of you crawling on the floor."

"You- Ah!" There was a dull thump, obviously when Draco's head bumped against the underside of the bed. "You are so dead, Potter." He tried to crawl back, but Harry stopped him.

"Okay, okay; I'm sorry, Malfoy." He desperately tried not to laugh. "There is a loose floorboard on the left side, in the middle. In there are all my important things." There was a moment's silence, then Draco's voice was heard.

"That is all your important things, Potter? Pitiful."

"Don't touch any-"

"Wow, what is that?"

"What is what? I said you shouldn't touch anything." When Draco came out from under the bed, he shoved Harry's clothes, a photo album and an old looking piece of parchment in Harry's hand, and held a strangely glimmering cloak in front of him.

"Is that-"

"Give me that." Harry tried to grab it, but Draco took a step back and pulled the cloak over himself. He was gone.

"Oh, my god. It's an invisibility cloak."

"Okay, now you know, so give it back, Malfoy."

"I don't think so," came Draco's voice from behind Harry. Harry laid his other stuff on the bed, turned around to where Draco's voice had come from, and held out his hands to reach for the blond. But he wasn't there. "I'm here," came the voice, now near Harry's left ear.

"Malfoy."

"I'm here." Now there was a poke to Harry's right shoulder.

"Stop it."

"No." Another poke, to his chest, now.

"Malfoy."

"Potter?"

"Malfoy!" Harry jumped when he felt a slap on his arse. "Stop it this instant."

"Or what?"

"Or I punch you- Hey! Give it back!" By now Harry was running in all his nude glory after a flying towel.

"What the hell is going on here?" Both boys froze - well, Harry and the flying towel froze - when Lucius Malfoy appeared in the doorway. "Where is Draco?"

"I'm here, father." Mr Malfoy's eyes widened when he saw his son appearing out of thin air. "It's Potter's invisibility cloak," Draco explained.

"I see." Mr. Malfoy held out his hand, and Draco gave him the cloak. Mr. Malfoy inspected it with great interest.

"Give it back, it's mine," Harry demanded, his nudity totally forgotten.

"I will take it for now; you will get it back later. Anything else that you want to take with you?"

"My school supplies."

"No, that's too obvious. Just small things; the most private."

"He had the cloak under the bed with this clothes and photo album." Draco pointed at the things on the bed. "Oh, and this old piece of parchment." He held it out to his father. "He said these are his most important things."

"That's not true."

"Yes, it is."

"No, I said those are all my important things: my only."

"What's that?" Mr Malfoy inspected the parchment, but couldn't see what it was important for. "That's just a piece of parchment. It's useless."

"No it's not. It's a map."

"A map?" Mr. Malfoy asked, curiously.

"The Marauders' map."

"The Marauders..." Lucius thought a moment about the name, then, "It's from your father and his friends, isn't it?"

"Yes. I got it from some friends in Hogwarts."

"What does the map show?"

"Don't know." By then, Harry thought he had already said too much. He didn't know how far he could trust the Malfoys. They said they wouldn't take him to Voldemort, but what guarantee did he have that they weren't lying?

"Liar." Mr. Malfoy smirked. "But keep your secret, for now. We have to go. And you have to get dressed, Mr. Potter. Or do you want to go in your Adam's costume?" When the realization of his nudity hit him, Harry blushed a deep Weasley red, and put on his clothes within the next ten seconds.

"No underwear?" Draco asked smirking.

"No room." Harry replied, carefully pulling up the zipper of his too-tight jeans.

"I see."

"Now, come on. We have to go." Mr. Malfoy grasped Harry's photo album, and together with his cloak and the map, shrunk it and put it in his pocket. Then he took an old looking box from his other pocket and opened it to reveal a stunned frog. He laid the frog on the bed, and muttered a complicated spell. Within seconds, the frog grew and transfigured into… Harry.

"What the hell?" Harry took a step back from the bed and held his wand (which he had taken from his bedside table after dressing) in front of him.

"Lower your wand, Mr. Potter." Mr. Malfoy said calmly.

"What do you-"

"What do you think will happen when they come here, but you aren't here? This entire charade would be for nothing."

"Who are 'they'? Who will come here?"

"Not now. Let's go, it's time." Mr. Malfoy reached once again into his pocket, and pulled out an expensive looking pocket watch. "Put your hand on it."

"Is it a portkey?" Harry asked suspiciously.

"No, it's a flying watch, Potter. Just grab it, and it flies you everywhere you want," Draco answered sarcastically. "What's your problem?"

"I don't know. Maybe the fact that the last time I travelled by portkey, a student died, Voldemort reappeared, and I was mere inches from my own death." Harry glared angrily at the two Malfoys.

"Believe me, Potter, if we wanted to kill you, there wouldn't be a transfigured frog on your bed, and we wouldn't be here. Now would you please touch this damn portkey?" The moment Harry touched the watch, he felt the familiar pull at his navel, and disappeared.

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A/N - That's it for now. What do you think?