Title: Newton's Laws

Pairing: Harry/Draco, possible other pairings as story progresses

Rating: Probable rating M

Warnings: Implied drug abuse, violence, character death (not H/D). Important: More warnings may be added later as the story is written.

Summary: In one part of town a young man, a boy, was attacked and left for dead. The victim was rushed to hospital, smiling, near death. Across town another young man, a boy in body, something else in mind, lay on a rotten bed in the basement of a rundown building no one seemed to own. It's simply there, just like him. To him he's been here longer; the building came up around him later. (I'll probably add a better summary once the story gets going!)

New summary: In a world where the muggles know everything, you either hide or fight. Draco's been hiding in the muggle world for years, but he is about to be pulled into what the government is officially calling "the War on Magic."

Beta: A huge thanks to Hidden Lily who gave me the courage to post this :)

Note: Please let me know if this is completely insane or worth writing more about! :)


Chapter one: Human Animal

It was a well-illuminated city in the dark. In one part of town a young man, a boy, was attacked and left for dead. The victim was rushed to hospital, smiling, near death. Across town another young man, a boy in body, something else in mind, lay on a rotten bed in the basement of a rundown building no one seemed to own. It's simply there, just like him. To him he's been here longer; the building came up around him later.

He took a long drag from his cigarette, wishing he had the energy to get up. He would feel better then, if he did something. He knew this, but did not care.


Fucking brilliant.

I'm a bloody philosopher, he thought disparagingly at himself, snorting, the only sound he could be bothered to make. The only thing he does is thinking. He closed his eyes and laid his head back, letting the smoke rise from his nostrils like a sleeping dragon.

He pretended to go to sleep. His body was uncovered except for a pair of shorts. His skin was so pale you would think it was see-through, only that would mean he was an empty shell, which perhaps he was. His hair was a dirty blond; as light as his skin but filled with filth that is. His body was thin, like fragile glass. Sharp, jagged; it could easily cut you.

Animals, he thought as he heard a crash and an angry yell from someone in the building. It's so terribly amusing how he can be so alike them, yet so different, at the exact same time. Animals have instincts, a will to survive that is written in their code, but surely if he had any he wouldn't be killing himself? He felt distinctly that he had no will to live: he did not care. Not one tiny bit. It was damn liberating. And he didn't even care that he didn't care. He couldn't, for he cared about nothing.


He was an animal. He had been reduced to it. By focusing everything on this one need, it makes him an animal, doesn't it? A very strange one, sure, but an animal nonetheless. A beast.

He smiled.

A monster. He liked that; liked the thought of children running scared from him, from "mummy's delicate little boy."

A mobile rang. He flicked the filter still between his fingers away and dug under the pillow. He squinted at the buttons until he found the right one.


'Fucking Christ, did you hear?' He rubbed the bridge of his nose tiredly. He should have gotten up for this.

'Hear what?'

'Lucky Bastard's in hospital, high as a kite on morphine.'

'How did he manage that?'

'Hex and run.' Huh. A pause.

'Who are we talking about?'

'Who'd ya think? Charlie.' Oh, right, Lucky Bastard. He couldn't recall the reason for the nickname.

'Who is this?'

'Jesus mate, you alright?'

'Don't really care.' There was a sound like a bang, a curse, and then the phone went dead. He tossed it aside and fumbled for another cigarette. A stretch of time loomed in front of him. Should he get up?

In the end he did.

He stumbled from the bed, pulled on his clothes (just a damp grey t-shirt and really worn jeans), and crawled up the stairs and out into the air. Despite it being night he squinted at the streetlights. His feet dragged. He shuffled slowly from building to building, sniffing the air.

What time was it? He didn't care.

Where was he, exactly? He didn't care.

As he walked the buildings remained dilapidated, but seemed to be more occupied. There were a lot of boarded up windows, but still light coming from between the cracks, and many warning signs on the doors. He didn't bother reading any of them; he had seen them all before.

Suddenly, a car came screeching around the corner, speeding up down the road before coming to an abrupt halt right in front of him. It was a miracle they hadn't crashed into the anything. The side windows were tinted, but they were rolled down. Two young men sat in the front, both wearing camouflage jackets. They were clearly armed, but not in any military.

'Danny,' the one in the passenger seat greeted. 'Heard about Lucky Bastard?' He spoke with an accent.

'Yeah,' Danny replied, shrugging. There was a bang heard in the distance, none of the three looked up. 'What are you lot up to?'

'Get in, there's a meeting tonight. The PM's made a speech today, did you see it?' Danny shook his head. 'You can watch it at HQ. Adam says he's got a treat for everybody. Get in.' Danny shuffled his feet, glancing down the street. He could see how the old houses seemed to lean into the road a little. Somewhere down that street was a gaping hole where there used to be life…

'I gotta get something to eat, mate,' Danny said apologetically. 'I'm knackered. You guys just head on without me.' The two men narrowed their eyes slightly at the excuse.

'Listen, Danny, it's not safe for you to be wandering around alone, especially not around these parts,' the man glanced down the street, affecting a little shudder of disgust. 'So get. In.' Danny knew he had no choice. He got in the back seat and shut up.

The drive was relatively short. The "headquarters" were located in a ten-story old hotel. It was slowly falling apart. Danny followed the pair upstairs to one of the conference rooms. Chairs were scattered about, and on the stage a computer monitor sat on a chair. Another three young men sat in front of it, watching the news. Danny went forward and sat down beside them. An official-looking man was making a speech to a group of reporters.

'… Our fight is far from over, but the numerous arrests and neutralizings this week give us hope. Once again we urge the public to report any paranormal activity and to remember all safety precautions. Stay armed at all times, travel in groups. Anyone not familiar with modern terms or appliances is suspect. Thank you.' With that the man left the podium and ignored the yelling reporters.

'Wanna watch it from the beginning?' Danny glanced sideways at the man who had asked. He didn't know him. He shook his head. It was doubtful there was anything said he wanted to know in the speech. Someone removed the computer and people started arriving. Danny remained seated, ignoring the growing noise level completely. He sloughed in his chair, feeling sleepy, hungry and itchy….

Someone shouted and startled him awake. He glanced up and saw Adam was on the podium, holding his arms aloft. The room was full of people, mostly young men, but a few women and older people too. Adam put down his arms as the room quieted.

'Our government think these people can be put behind bars and "neutralized" but their theory is flawed. The only thing that works against a wart is to break its wand and put a bullet through the head.' There was a cry of support at this and people punched the air with their fists. Most of them were standing, but Danny remained seated, sitting in the front row and looking tiredly at the stage. A wart was a nickname. People didn't want to use witch or wizard or warlock or mage. They wanted something derogatory and simple.

A wart.

Something that needed to be removed from the earth.

'The fact is that the warts are too good at hiding. They can never blend in, but they can hide. Technology has allowed us to find them, to break through their magic,' Adam spat the last word as if it was acid on his tongue. 'But technology can only get us so far. What we need to do is take out their hope, their will to continue, and tonight, we have.' There was a hush when the people registered these words. Adam had a mad glint in his eyes. He was under thirty, with an unshaved and dirty face but clearly handsome. He wore combat trousers and vest, and a "Newton is law" button on his chest.

'Bring out the prisoner!' he barked. To the right of the stage two muscular men dragged a near-unconscious man onto the stage. They both had their pistols up against either side of the man's skull. His head was down, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth, his right eyebrow and his forehead. His clothes were dirty, a stained red t-shirt and jeans. Someone had tried to put black robes on him, but since his hands were tied behind his back the robe fell off as they moved centre-stage.

They threw him to the floor and he gave a small groan of pain since he hadn't been able to shield his face much. The pair of guards kept their guns trained on him, but moved back so Adam could stand over him, smirking.

The room was silent.

Danny held his breath. He knew exactly who it was.

'This,' Adam announced, 'is their leader. A very. Big. Wart.' He punctuated his slow statement with a nice kick in the ribs. Harry barely moved, but he groaned. 'No need to fear. He is heavily drugged. He is neutralized.'

'Kill him!' Someone yelled from the crowd. The shout was taken up and a chant started.

'Kill the wart!'

Adam held up his hands and the crowd quieted down again. 'Not yet,' he declared. 'Don't you see? He can tell us things. Hiding places, their plans. We will show him to the world so that the warts will all know and despair. I have already sent a message to the government and they are willing to reward us if we share any information we gain. That means the latest weapons and recognition for our group.' Adam started pacing the stage, his eyes shining with determination and eagerness. The crowd listened avidly. Danny stared at the body.

'In the beginning we were called vigilantes, outlaws. But the governments of the world had to acknowledge the threat from the warts. Now, they will acknowledge that our group has the solution. We will wipe their unnaturalness from the earth!'

The crowd erupted in cheers. Feet were stamped and a gun shot or two went off. Adam, a big smirk on his face, eventually held up his hands again and went over to his prisoner. He crouched, gripped Harry's mop of hair and pulled his head up.

Harry's face was twisted in pain, his teeth clenched. He was bloody and bruised.

'Harry Potter. The wart that no one could catch. I've got you now.' Slowly, the green eyes opened. He obviously didn't need glasses anymore because he focused on the person sitting in the front row perfectly.

Draco Malfoy.