Author's Notes- This story has been done a million times; the whole Cinderella thing

30/09/2008 00:47:00

Author's Notes- This is very loosely based on Cinderella. Don't own. Never have, never will.

Glass Slippers

"Boy! Get in here now!" a shrill voice called out, one bright, sunny morning. Harry Potter, the aforementioned boy, didn't have to see the Mistress to know it was she who called him. He slowly pulled on his tatty old trousers and what had once resembled a shirt of some kind. After slipping into his old shoes, he carefully put on the pin that indicated he was a carrier. Not of mail, or some fatal disease, but children. Not very many men had the ability to birth children, and the few who could were held in the highest respect. But Harry was still only 15, and after his parents' death Harry, with no one to announce that he was, in fact, one of these fair few, had been ignored, sent to work as a servant in one of the richer families. But because of some trouble involving Harry, the Dursley's son, and a mixup about Harry's gender, he was treated more like a slave. No one spoke to him, and no one even called him by his name. He was Boy. But really, just because he was more slender then most boys his age, his hair was softer then the Mistress's, and his eyes were a deep, almost feline like green was no reason to abuse him so. The other servant children didn't bother to speak to him, unless they were bored, and then they would tease him relentlessly about anything and everything. Harry shivered when he remembered how the older servant boys had celebrated Halloween last year. All of the blood, the cruel laughter, his own mangled screams. The only bit of luck he had that night was that no one had finished inside of him. If they had, he would be bonded to them forever. Harry had first thought that if they had known he was a carrier, they wouldn't have touched him, but even after the Mistress's kind friend, Lady Figg, had suggested they have Harry presented as a carrier, he was still treated worse then the animals. Even on today, his birthday.

"Boy!! Get in here now, or I'll send Vernon with the whip!" Petunia Dursley threatened. Harry ran down the stairs, walking as soon as he thought she could see him. She was holding a box of soap, and Harry cringed. He really hated bathing the cat.

"Today you will bathe Marge, do all of the laundry, scrub the floors, sweep the porches, prepare an outfit for Dudley to wear to a ball, clean the kitchen, cook dinner, reshingle the roof, and wash the carriages. If you finish in a timely fashion, you may eat dinner tonight." With that she was gone, leaving the box of cat soap on the floor. Harry sighed, before starting his work.


"Son, I know you do not particularly enjoy the thought of a female companion, but there are so few carriers, and none are your age." Queen Narcissa said, trying to reason with her love obsessed son. He turned to face her, pale hair glinting in the sun.

"I am 18. I do not want to marry for duty, but for love. And if the 'approved' companions for me consist of those dreadful girls like Parkinson or Weasley, I'd rather die an old man." With that he stalked off, heading towards the stables. He saddled Bunny and spurred her into action, taking off towards the richer side of the castle. They flew past trees and small rivers, and leapt over animals and fallen logs. They came to a stop near what he had heard his father call, 'the biggest disgrace to the upper class of England'. The Dursley mansion. He watched servants tend to the horses and gardens, and after a while they all went in, presumably for lunch. All except for one. A small figure worked diligently, pulling weeds, sweeping porches, feeding animals. Draco slid off of Bunny quietly, somehow knowing that if the figure saw him, it would run away. When he got close enough to see the person, his heart stopped. The petite figure had long, soft looking black hair, the largest green eyes he had ever seen, and blood red lips, creating the most intoxicating, innocent picture Draco had come to view. He watched as the angel paused in its work, swaying slightly. Just as it fell Draco stepped forward, catching his Angel before it hit the ground. He studied the creature's face, realizing it was a boy. He inspected the boy's body, and froze when he saw the pin on his chest.

"A carrier? Who would send a carrier to work, and in the sun, no less! It's a wonder he's still alive!" he said. Carriers were extremely delicate, even more so then the fairest maiden, and could only go out in the sun with proper protection, which the boy obviously didn't have. There were stories and rumors of carriers dying from too much sun exposure, and many people found them to be true. He stood, looking around for someone who might see them. He doubted would be happy he was stealing the boy, no matter how mistreated he was. When he saw no one, he carefully scooped up the delicate boy, and carried him to Bunny. He put his boy in front, and hopped up behind him, again spurring Bunny into full action. In record time they arrived at the palace, and Draco ushered some people over to help him. One man led Bunny away, and the other two ran ahead, informing the Queen that her son had arrived, with a wounded boy. Narcissa rushed to the doors when Draco walked through them, holding a small bundle in his arms. Before she could ask he spoke.

"I found this carrier at the Dursley Mansion. He was being abused." She gasped, and summoned a healer. They placed the boy on a nearby bench, and the healer went to work, requesting numerous tools and things Draco had never seen used before. The woman inspected the boy, before frowning.

"This is a most unusual case of carrier abuse. There are signs that he was raped multiple times, but was never impregnated. And the extent of the physical abuse seems to have played a serious part in his motor skills. Or, it would have, had he not been forced to work, regardless the extent of his wounds." Draco felt his heart break. This boy, this Angel, had been through so much, and when Draco had saved him, he had felt the overwhelming need to protect him from ever being hurt again. And he knew what he needed to do to make that happen.

"I would like to court the boy, once he is well." His mother nodded happily, and left with the nurse, giving Draco time think about what he had just done.


Harry had been working in the front of the mansion when he suddenly felt dizzy. Probably from last night's beating, he thought, unaware of the silver eyes watching him. Before he knew what was happening, he was falling, unconscious.

He awoke a while later, and his eyes opened to see a tall blonde man staring at him. The man seemed to scream dominance, and Harry felt nervous, being studied so intently.

"Sir? W-who are you?" he asked, eyes falling to the comforter hanging loosely over him. The man seemed to snap out of a trance, and summoned a servant.

"I'm Draco Malfoy. Do you now what happened to you?" he asked. Harry thought back, before nodding slowly. He looked around, realizing he wasn't at the mansion.

"Where am I? I have to get back! If I don't finish my chores I won't get to eat again!" he said, frantically, trying to get out of the bed. He looked up at the man, Draco, and paled.

"S-sir? What's—What did I do?" he asked, backing away from the man, not particularly enjoying the furious look aimed at him.


Draco couldn't believe his ears! His angel was having food withheld from him and he still wanted to go back? The small carrier seemed uncomfortable, judging by the fact that he had paled quite a few skin shades.

"S-sir? What's—What did I do?" he asked. When the boy backed away from him, a look of fear prominent on his expressive face, Draco silently growled. He realized he was scaring his boy, and asked the first question that came to mind.

"What's your name?" it was a simple question, but the carrier seemed to have to think about it for a while before answering.

"Harry Potter?" He seemed uncertain he had answered correctly.

"Are you sure?" Draco asked, amused. This was apparently not the right thing to ask, seeing as Harry had burst into tears. His eyes were red and puffy and he had snot dripping from his nose. Draco, who was usually disgusted by body fluids, was surprised to find that the picture was actually sort of sweet, in a wet sort of way. He reached out and pulled the boy close, wiping away the tears with the backs of his fingers.

"Shh, it's okay. I was only joking." He soothed. The tears didn't stop, however, and he was stumped.

"Why are you still crying, love?"

"I-I don't remember if that's my name." the boy seemed devastated, and Draco couldn't figure out how to comfort him. With no other options, he slowly bent and pressed his lips to his angel's. The boy froze, apparently unused to the act of kissing. He took it slow, savoring the feel of Harry's soft red lips against his own. When Draco pulled away, the boy's eyes were wide, and he seemed even more terrified then before.

"Are you okay?" before the boy could answer a servant appeared with a pile of clean clothing.

"The clothes you requested for young Master, Master." Before he could reply the blonde girl was gone. He held them out to the boy.

"I wasn't sure what size clothing you wore, so I had Luna fetch you some of my old stuff from when I was younger. It's a little outdated, but I think they'll fit okay." Harry nodded hesitantly, hands carefully taking the clothes as if they were some important treasure. Draco left the room in order to give him some privacy, no matter how much he wanted to stay and watch his Angel clothe himself. He stood out in the hall, directly in front of the door, as if daring anyone to come near his boy. He was pleasantly surprised when Harry timidly emerged from the room, Draco's too large shirt and trousers hanging off of him. Something about the way his unusually dainty feet poking out from underneath layers of expensive cloth was so endearing, Draco couldn't help but want to protect his Angel from anything and everything that appeared harmful. Harry frowned.

"They don't fit." It was a seemingly simple sentence, but it was the first time Draco had heard Harry speak without stuttering or being in tears, and he reveled in the musical quality his voice carried. Draco stared at Harry, until he noticed he was making him nervous.

"How old are you, Harry?" he asked, realizing he knew nothing about his angel, other then his name.

"16, sir. Today is my birthday." Not so much younger then himself, then.

"And how did you come to be in the service of the Dursleys?" Harry fidgeted, before answering, in a soft voice.

"When my parents were killed I was sent to live with them, but there was an argument, and I ended up working for them, instead of living with them. This past year was especially bad, though." The last bit was whispered, and Draco wasn't entirely sure it was meant for his ears.

"Why has the last year been so bad?" Harry stiffened.

"Tom Riddle. On Halloween last year he and a few of his friends got together and attacked me. I screamed a lot and ended up waking the Masters and Mistress, but by the time they came out to scold me Tom and the others were gone. I had to clean up the blood, and I didn't get any meals for weeks. Mistress was the one who guessed what had happened for the most part, and I got a…punishment for not remaining pure until they had found someone 'acceptable' for me." He snorted at the last part. "More like someone who was willing to pay them an absurd amount of money for nothing." It was said with an indifferent tone, but the faint misting of Harry's eyes was proof of just how much emotional damage had been done. Draco gently forced Harry's chin up and stared unwaveringly into his eyes.

"You are not nothing. You are worth everything on Earth, and anyone who does not think so must be blind, to not see your beauty, deaf, to not hear your sweet voice, and heartless, to not feel the strength of your compassion for others. You are, with out a doubt, the only person I want to spend my life with, and I will do anything to prove it to you." Draco's voice burned with emotion, and his heart shattered when he saw the spark of hope that filled Harry's shy gaze. They were blissfully unaware how quickly their momentary bliss was going to end, in the form of a jealous suitor.

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