So, it's that time of year again, a bit late, but what can I say? I was so sick I didn't even realize my buddy's birthday was upon us so I'll keep this short. Happy Birthday my dear friend Gar.

Notes: (X) pov change and or time jump.

Warnings: Shonen ai, yaoi, slash, gay. Harry Potter/Tom Riddle jr.

Added notes: AU, Voldemort never became an evil dark lord.

More notes: Due to my schedule, work, health, updates are sporadic. Sorry everyone.

Chapter 1

Harry could not believe his luck. He should have known something was amiss when his parents, both of whom were usually rooted to the train station platform waiting for him, were nowhere to be seen when he stepped off the Hogwarts' Express. Not once in the five years that he'd attended the magical boarding school had they ever failed to send him off or retrieve him at Platform Nine and Three Quarters and yet that was exactly what had happened at the end of his fifth term. He'd wondered if perhaps his godfather had stolen his father away as he sometimes did, but surely his mother would have come to fetch him.

His unease began to grow as he'd scanned the numerous witches and wizards present, some of which he knew, but none that would be in charge of taking him home.

"You still haven't spotted your family," Ron asked approaching him. Ron's family had been easy to spot thanks to the large Weasley's clan bright red hair. Even as more people entered the platform, Ron's family was impossible to lose among the crowd. In fact, it was growing more noticeable as Ron's brothers joined his mother and sister.

"They're probably just running late," Harry said sure that his parents were fine and that they had not somehow forgotten that today was the day he returned from school. Even if it had slipped their minds, they spoke with other witches and wizards. They talked to Ron's parents almost on a daily basis. Both Ron's dad and Harry's own worked at the ministry, even if they were in different departments. His return date had to have come up in conversation at least once in the past few hours.

"Have they ever been late before?"

Harry shot his best friend a dark look, the red head shrinking back. No, they had never been late, had always been right next to the train with larges smiles on their faces and waving. Sometimes Sirius was with them, once Sirius, Remus, and his parents had been waiting for him. That had been after his fourth year. He'd been surprised to find all four of them waiting for him on the platform. From there they'd gone out to eat in Diagon Alley. All of them had wanted to hear about the Triwizard Tournament. Harry had given them the best accounts that he could; it wasn't like he'd been in the tournament himself and he'd already told them all the details he could in his letters. They'd all listened intently and asked follow up questions, some of which Harry could answer, others he couldn't. To think that all four of these people, all of whom were family to him, could forget him…

He'd scanned the crowd again, but no one was entering the platform, plenty of them now leaving. The crowd began to thin out, Ron waiting beside him in silence.

"You're still here," Hermione asked. "Usually you're gone by now."

"His parents forgot about him," Ron said before Harry could utter a word.

"Ron," Hermione said warningly.

"Someone is bound to show up," Harry said. Someone had to show up; there was no way he could make it back to Godric's Hollow by himself. He couldn't Apparate yet and he'd done enough side alongs not to want to try it anyway. He'd get in trouble if he tried his broomstick and he didn't have any Muggle money on him to take the bus. "Can you travel by Floo Powder here?"

"I don't think so," Ron said. "Hermione?"

"Not that I've ever heard of, but that is a good idea," Hermione said. "That would probably save a lot of people a great deal of trouble."

His two friends had helped him look the crowd over, but after the platform had emptied out besides them, he'd had no choice, but to admit that his parents had forgotten him.

"We'll get you home," Mrs. Weasley had said.

"Let me know what happened," Hermione whispered and left with her parents.

And so, the Weasley family, thank Merlin, had shown pity on their friends' son and taken him back to their house. None of them seemed to know what was going on or where Harry's parents were, but at least he'd gotten to leave Platform Nine and Three Quarters. After spending a long car ride with Ron and the rest of his family in a very illegally, magically, altered car that allowed for all of them to sit comfortably inside, they'd made it to the Burrow. Harry had thanked them and promised to let them know what had happened with his parents.

"If anything's wrong you can stay with us," Mrs. Weasley had said giving Harry a tight hug.

"Thanks Mrs. Weasley."

After Ron's mother had released him, she'd grabbed the small pouch containing Floo Powder from off the fireplace mantel.

Harry had taken a small handful and thrown the contents down harder than he'd intended to. The powder flew up around him as he said clearly, "Potter's Cottage!" His lungs filled with the Floo Powder as he did and when he stumbled out of his fireplace into his living room, he was not only dizzy, but also coughing horribly. He'd staggered towards the nearest overstuffed arm chair and held onto it with one hand, the other hitting his chest trying to dislodge the Floo Powder that he'd accidentally inhaled.

Once his coughing fit had ended and the tears in his eyes had faded, he walked into the main hall. Four large suitcases were standing next to the front door.

"Harry! What are you doing here!?" His father had appeared from the staircase, a look of utter shock on his face. "That's…" He glanced down at his watch, his face falling. "Lily! We forgot Harry!"

So they did forget. And yet, while Harry was indeed pissed that his parents had forgotten their only child at a train station miles away from home, he was relieved that they were okay. The closer they'd gotten to the Burrow, the more his stomach had twisted itself in knots over the "What ifs" playing through his mind. What if something had happened to them on their way to pick Harry up? What if one of his parents were sick, or dead, and no one had wanted to tell him until he'd returned home. What if, what if, what if….? Stop it, they're okay.

"Harry!" His mother's voice was panicked and suddenly he could hear her running towards them. "We need to go…!" She'd stopped in her tracks when her eyes fell on Harry standing at the bottom of the steps. "How did you get home?"

"Mrs. Weasley was nice enough to take me to the Burrow and let me use Floo Powder."

"Right, Molly told us earlier to remember," James said letting out a laugh. "And we still forgot."

Lily sighed moving passed her husband and walking fast towards Harry. She threw her arms around him tightly, tighter even than Mrs. Weasley had managed.

"I'm so glad you're alright and I'm so sorry we weren't there to pick you up."

The last of Harry's angry had faded them. He'd returned the hug, just glad to be with his family again.

"So where are you going…?"

"What? Oh, all of us are going," Lily said releasing her son. "Make sure you go pack some things. Summer things."

"Okay…?" Harry watched his mother climb the stairs, jump up them really, and vanish down the hall once more. His father was still grinning down at him.

"Your mother won the prestigious "Superiority in the Healing Arts Award!" He gave a flourish of his hands and froze in a dramatic pose. As Harry approached the stairs, his father broke into another fit of laughter. "It really is a big honor."

"I know," Harry said. And he did know. He'd heard his mother speak of the award from time to time, usually based on the candidates that were nominated and what she thought of them. Harry and his father would just nod, because their knowledge of healers was limited to what tidbits they remembered from Lily's previous conversations, which tended not to be a lot. Harry just wasn't that interested in healing. He was glad others were, because he'd be in bad shape from all the crashes, attacks, and curses thrown at him during Quidditch matches if no one practiced the art. If not for Madam Pomfrey, he'd probably be paralyzed. "Where are we going anyway?"

"Wiltshire," James said. "So make sure to pack your "rich" robes."

Harry blanched. Wiltshire? He had to spend some of his summer in Wiltshire?

"Not the whole vacation," Harry said, desperation creeping into his voice. Wiltshire was where all the "self-appointed important" wizards and witches lived. While James wasn't bothered much, Lily and Harry often got snide remarks and looks of disgust from the magical community there.

"No, not the whole vacation. After your mother receives her reward we're going to Switzerland."

Once again, relief had flooded through Harry's body. He wouldn't be spending weeks in Wiltshire, which is what the suitcases by the door suggested, that they would be gone for weeks.

And so Harry had packed some of his summer attire, light robes, his dress robes, muggle clothing, and his swimsuit. He'd also thrown in a few books about Quidditch, one about Defense, and another about Potions. He made a face at the Potion's book before dropping his clothes on top of it. He really didn't want to bring any books with him, but his mother would disapprove if he didn't bring at least one. Once all the packing had been finished and they'd shared a quick lunch of sandwiches, they were out the door. James and Harry had loaded the car trunk with their luggage and then they were off, which was where Harry was at the moment, trying not to lose his mind.

Why couldn't we just use Floo Powder to get to Wiltshire? They'd done it before in the past. If not that, even though Harry despised it, why not Apparate? It would have been uncomfortable, but it beat sitting in a car for the next three hours with only fields and skies to look at.

Forgot to tell Ron and Hermione what happened. As soon as the thought crossed his mind, he was somewhat glad to be confined in the car. At least stuck in the backseat watching the nondescript scenery pass by, he didn't have to try to come up with some kind of explanation. How did you explain to your two best friends that your parents had conveniently forgotten you over an award? Harry, their only child. The star Seeker on the Gryffindor Quidditch team who'd broken numerous Seeker records at the school. Sure, he'd probably done badly on some of his O.W.L.S. and he wasn't the best at school work, but his Defense abilities were good. Professor McGonagall had warned him early in the year if he wanted to follow his father's footsteps in being an Auror that he'd need to pick up the slack. He'd tried, asking Hermione for help and while he didn't think he'd gotten any failing grades, he wasn't sure if he'd gotten high enough ones to continue in all the required subjects for the job.

No sense in worrying about it now. He'd get his grades later on in the summer and that was that. Either his parents would be pleased, he hoped they would be, or his mother was going to very disappointed in her son, even if she wouldn't openly admit it. Harry knew the exact face his mother would make and that the only way he'd fix it would be to try harder, maybe find some way to retake the O.W.L.S. for that class and show her he could do it, or they'd spend months awkwardly communicating as little as possible. His father was much more accepting in any grades Harry received. He and Sirius had told Harry if not for Remus, neither of them would have passed any classes, and they'd barely scraped by on their O.W.L.S. but he wasn't allowed to tell his mother that.

Harry stared up at the ceiling of the car. He was going to be so sore, was already sore, from sitting all day. First, the long ride from Hogwarts to Platform Nine and Three Quarters, the long ride to the Burrow, and now a three hour car ride to Wiltshire, which again struck him as odd. Why were they driving? Why not just Apparate there and then back to Godric's Hollow to get their luggage and Apparate again to Switzerland. As he thought about it however, he realized his mother would never agree to such a thing. While she would be okay with Apparating to Wiltshire, Switzerland was another matter.

Other families would just Apparate, he thought bitterly. Ron's family definitely would have.

"So, how did your exams go," Lily asked. It was the first words that had been spoken in the car, no doubt due to his parent's shame of forgetting him and their fear that he would be angry with them. He was, but not enough to hold it against them. He had gotten home. If he'd been forced to spend the night at Platform Nine and Three Quarters he wouldn't have been so forgiving.

"They were hard," Harry said opting to tell the truth. It wouldn't do any good to lie, especially once his parents saw his grades. "I studied with Hermione a lot, but I don't know if it was enough."

His mother looked pleased when she turned around.

"Did you use the study guides I sent you?"

"We did," Harry said. "Thank you for that. Hermione used them to make mock tests."

"You sent Harry your old O.W.L.S. guides," James asked, almost groaned.

"They were his O.W.L.S. James. Those tests can set him on the right or wrong path for a good life."

"Yeah, sure. As long as he doesn't flunk anything, between Sirius and me, he's as good as got a job in the Auror's office."

Lily gave a small huff.

"I want him to have options."

"He told me he wanted to be an Auror, didn't you Harry?" He could see his father's eyes in the rearview mirror begging him to agree with him and in fact, he had asked his father and Sirius before the start of his fifth year about getting into the Auror office. His father and godfather did so much good, even if the job could be boring at times, and he wanted to join them.

"I did," Harry said hoping that disapproving look he knew all too well didn't grace his mother's features. "I want to help people—"

"Healer's help people!"

"I want to help them like Dad does…like Sirius does…"

His mother snorted and looked away from the two males in the car, her eyes now focused on the rolling fields outside the passenger window. He saw his father give a quick shake of his head and roll his eyes in the mirror again and the silence returned to the car only this time with an awkwardness to it. Harry no longer wanted to be around his parents and wished he'd just stayed at the Burrow until his family realized he was missing. At the rate they were going, they might not have even noticed his disappearance until long after the awards ceremony. The thought hurt a bit, because he was often his parents' focus. Or, maybe that was just what he'd believed. Perhaps once his parents sent him off to Hogwarts they completely forgot about him except to send him letters and care packages. They were good for that, especially his father who often sent him random prank items. Harry didn't use them often, but Fred and George had taken quite a few of them for their own purposes. Harry had pretended not to notice.

By the time, Harry could see the many homes and buildings peeking up over the horizon, he wanted to claw his way out of the car. The awkward silence hanging over them in the car had slowly turned into agitated noises, followed by glares, and crescendoing in a full out fight between his parents over whether or not either of them cared about Harry's future or what he wanted. Neither of them seemed to have an answer thirty minutes later and when they pulled up to the small inn they'd be staying at, Harry bolted from the car. Smartly, his parents did not call after him.

He'd been in Wiltshire enough to know the general area, was glad that they'd decided to stay in a smaller inn instead of one of the larger hotels. He walked passed the swinging sign that read "The Black Cat's Inn" and down the long winding sidewalk. If he remembered right, there was a wizarding pub not too far from the Cat's Inn. Sure, enough nestled between a bakery and a bookstore was the pub he remembered from a previous visit, "The Toad's Pond." He pushed the door open and went straight for the first open table. He sat down; a pretty witch with chestnut brown hair placed a menu in front of him.

"Anything to drink?"

"Butterbeer please," he said needing a pick me up.

"Cold or warm?"

"Warm."

"Got it." She winked at him and walked off, leaving Harry alone with the menu. He scanned the items not entirely hungry, but after the long drive to Wiltshire and the long ride from Hogwarts, he didn't want to be anywhere near a small room, let alone his parents.

"Why Harry, I believe I just saw you a few hours prior?"

There was no mistaking the voice. Harry knew immediately who it was before even looking up. Why was he having so much bad luck today? Thank Merlin the O.W.L.S.' grades weren't being delivered today.

"You did," Harry said quietly looking up from his menu. Dumbledore was standing next to his table smiling his usual smile.

"I heard your mother was nominated for the Superiority in the Healing Arts Award. Not a surprise in the least. Lily has always shown a wonderful amount of intelligence. You must be so proud of her."

Right, only mum and dad know she's won. He felt like the headmaster knew he wasn't happy and without warning Dumbledore took a seat across from him. Of course. Harry had the joy of not only seeing Dumbledore at school, but sometimes at home or the Burrow as well. Ron and he both agreed they had some of the worst luck, because both their parents were friends with the headmaster. He didn't show up a lot, but when he did, they were both expected to act like proper gentleman, something Harry hated to do. It wasn't that he couldn't do it, he usual manner was somewhat quiet compared to others, but to be told he had to behave, it just made him want to act out. Sirius had told him that was his father's blood in him.

"And what will you be eating on this fine evening?"

"I don't know," Harry said laying the menu down on the table. Dumbledore was still examining him with sparkling blue eyes. Many of the students believed Dumbledore was a Legilimens. The headmaster seemed to know exactly what was going through anyone's mind just by looking at them. He hoped that wasn't the case. Dumbledore didn't need to know that his parents were fighting about him, possibly had been for a while now, because based on parts of the arguments Harry had heard, before his mother had used Muffliato to keep the yelling in the front of the car, it had sounded like a continuation from a previous fight. Maybe even more than one.

"That won't do." The headmaster lifted up the menu and began scanning it. "I would recommend the Chocolate Trifle cake."

"For dinner," Harry asked.

"Perhaps not," Dumbledore said winking at him.

The server returned and set Harry's Butterbeer on the table.

"So what will you be having?"

"Umm…" While he did kind of deserve the Chocolate Trifle cake after all he'd been put through that day, his mother's face flashed through his mind just daring him to have his dessert before a real dinner. "Cornish Pasties and a side of chips," he said handing her the menu. "And the Chocolate Trifle cake for dessert," he added a grin finding its way to his face.

"Will you be joining him sir?" She was looking at Dumbledore now and seemed to be trying to think where she knew the older wizard from.

"Alas, I'm merely chatting with a friend," he said, dramatics leaking into his voice. "I'm simply passing the time until I must meet with someone. I will however take a glass of lemonade?"

"Sure." The waitress wrote down their orders and vanished from view.

"Who are you waiting for," Harry asked. The second he'd said it, he knew he shouldn't have. He let his horror show on his face and then shook his head. "Never mind."

Dumbledore chuckled and Harry wished he could just leave, but the longer he'd been sitting and smelling the delicious foods going passed him to other tables, the more he wanted to stay and eat.

"It's quite alright Harry. It's not like I'm holding a secret meeting with the Ministry of Magic." He laughed again, the tension in Harry fading. "I'm waiting for my son."

"The one who studies abroad," Harry asked. He'd heard Hermione speak often of Tom, usually going on about how brilliant Dumbledore's son was. While Hermione didn't know him personally, she often pointed out many of his "accomplishments" that were marked in books, or the Daily Prophet. Most of it related to magical creatures. Harry had never met Tom either, despite all the times Dumbledore had joined Ron and his' families for dinners, nor had he even seen a picture, but he imagined the man must be about his father's age, maybe a little younger. "How is he doing?"

"Splendid if you can call it that," Dumbledore said smiling brightly. "His input helped a group of healers create a new healing cream. It heals faster and is much stronger than what we have in our cabinets at home right now." The headmaster looked so proud of his son. Maybe if he'd applied himself and listened to Hermione more, his parents would look at him that way too and maybe they wouldn't be fighting over where his future was headed.

"Do you think being an Auror is a pointless job?"

The smile slipped off Dumbledore's face, his eyes now serious.

"No. I would say that an Auror's job is very difficult at times and a much needed job in our community. Without Auror's our community would fall apart. There would be no one to catch the rather dark wizards or witches that sometimes appear and believe me Harry that is the last thing we need." He studied Harry a moment longer. "Why?"

"I want to be an Auror," Harry said. It was well known amongst his professors what his intentions were. The only one that had sneered at him was Snape and his mother had set that straight before his bullying had even started. He'd complained about the Potion's teacher before many times, but his mother had actually stepped in at the beginning of his fifth year saying his studies were too important from that point onward. Snape had retreated, but glared at Harry every chance he got, no doubt hoping he'd accidentally poison himself.

"Yes, I've seen all of the career paths the fifth years are attempting."

"I don't think my mum wants me to."

"Hmm…." The waitress placed Harry's food in front of him just as Dumbledore pulled out his pocket watch. He seemed surprised at the time and stood up. "I do apologize Harry, my son should be arriving any moment and he'll be most displeased if I'm not there to meet him." He took out a few galleons from his pocket and handed them to the witch. "Please keep the change. Next time I'll make sure I know the time before ordering something." He hurried out the door then without a single look back. The witch shrugged, taking the lemonade back and left Harry alone.

At least Dumbledore remembered his son at the last minute. Had his parents really forgotten him? Maybe they'd been fighting so much over Harry's future they'd "forgotten" him so he'd go somewhere else for the summer. He knew both of his parents loved him, but perhaps his lack of intelligence and abilities were putting a strain on their relationship. It was too late to study harder or do better. He could try harder for the N.E.W.T.S., if he could take those courses, but somehow he already felt like he'd failed. He'd let both of his parents down, worried more about Quidditch than his future, and now they were trying to find some way to fix it.

The Cornish pasties no longer looked appetizing. He nibbled on one all the same, knowing he'd regret it later if he didn't and picked at some of his fries. The witch brought out his piece of cake when it was obvious he wasn't going to eat any more of his actual dinner, but even that didn't seem worth the effort of eating.

"Can I take this with me," he asked. The witch nodded and pulled her wand out. She taped the cake, a box wrapping around it.

"It'll stay fresh in there," she said.

"Thanks." Harry paid her, he always had Wizarding money on him, and got up. "Is the bookstore one of ours," Harry asked her.

"No, but there's one farther down the street that way. It's the last shop on the street," she said pointing to her left. "Not a big selection, but not bad."

Harry thanked her again and left the pub. It was beginning to cool off as the sun got lower, but he wasn't ready to go back to the hotel. Instead, he started down the street in the direction the witch had pointed in. If he started now, maybe he could get better grades.

Better grades doesn't really solve my problem though, he realized. He wanted to be an Auror, was pretty sure he would get the job one way or another, and getting perfect grades wouldn't change that. What he needed was his mother to change her mind. His father was quite content with him becoming an Auror, Sirius had been thrilled to hear it, but his mother. What did she want him to do anyway? Study to be a healer? That was the last thing on his mind. He hated Potions' class and he didn't want to spend his days making sure people got their medication or trying to fix their ailments. He wanted to track down dark witches and wizards. He wanted to go after people who made things unsafe for the rest of the wizarding community. He wanted to make a difference. He was good at dueling, excelled at Defense; he had earned a higher score last year in Defense than Hermione had. So, why was his mother so against it?

Someone shoved against Harry, the Gryffindor stumbling forward. He managed to keep the box in his hand just as he jerked his head up to glare at the offender.

"Potter."

"Malfoy," Harry said watching the Slytherin.

"Why are you in my town?"

"Healers awards," Harry said.

Draco Malfoy was not his favorite person, but far from, his most hated one. When Hermione and Ron weren't around, Draco was almost tolerable. He hated that Draco couldn't be decent all the time, to his friends especially, and Harry had tried to get the Slytherin to be decent, but Draco had refused.

"Right, we always get unwanted company during this time." He scrunched his face up as if he'd inhaled a horrible scent. "Your mother is up for some kind of award, right?"

"Yeah." Harry allowed himself to relax and the two started down the sidewalk. It seemed for now Draco would be decent enough. Harry never understood why Draco was okay with him, but not Ron. Ron may be poor, but he was more of a pureblood than Harry was ever going to be. I guess money makes up for my Mudblood, he thought rolling his eyes.

"Where are you headed anyway? The only thing this way is the bookstore."

"That's where I was going."

"You, read?" He gave a quick laugh, his face falling when he saw the look on Harry's face. "What's going on?"

"My family is fighting. About me I think."

Draco raised an eyebrow at that.

"Are you kidding me? Your parents?"

Harry gave a halfhearted shrug. He should be talking about this with Sirius, or Ron, or Hermione, but not Draco. Draco was much more an acquaintance than a friend.

"I told mum I wanted to be an Auror and she wasn't too happy about it."

"You don't actually have to work," Draco said.

"No, but what else would I do," Harry asked. The thought of not working had never occurred to him. He was in school to learn, he had to pass tests. Both of his parents had jobs. Despite their small fortune hidden away in Gringotts, they lived in a normal sized home. There were no servants or house elves. Harry had always been told finding a good job was important. "Maybe we are poor."

Draco laughed again, this time for real.

"What," Harry asked.

"You're not poor," Draco said when he'd gotten control of himself. "My father doesn't allow me to interact with poor people."

"Or half-bloods, but here you are, still talking to me."

"More like a quarter," Draco said no longer looking at Harry.

"You've actually had this conversation with your dad, haven't you?" Harry was shocked and yet knew he shouldn't be. That Draco had, had to convince his father that the Potter family was still pure enough, still rich enough, for him to interact with him, was just too much. "What about Crabbe and Goyle?"

"Those aren't friends," Draco spat, his face turning red.

Harry had to agree. He could at least hold a normal conversation with Ron and Hermione. Draco probably had to draw pictures and show diagrams to get even the smallest understanding to happen among his goons.

"This would be easier if you'd just talk with Ron and Hermione."

"If I could, I would," he said shrugging. They'd had this conversation before. If Draco's father found out he talked to a poor wizarding family, like Ron's, or a muggle born witch like Hermione, he'd be sent to another school, and possibly disowned. Harry wasn't sure he believed that, but the fact that his father had even made those threats, showed how much he hated those "types" of people.

"It's our lives, isn't it? Why should our parents always have a say in it?"

"Because we live in their homes," Draco offered.

"So all I have to do is get my own place?"

It sounded too easy, but it wasn't. Even if he moved out, it still wouldn't stop his parents from fighting and it definitely wouldn't make his mother accept his wish to become an Auror.

"It's just a few months," Draco said. They crossed a bridge, a beautiful river running beneath it. Harry couldn't help himself. He looked over the edge and watched the dark blue water rushing by, a family of ducks riding the current. Wild flowers dotted both sides, red and yellow ones. It was peaceful. "My parents fight all the time, but it's never about me." Draco leaned his back against the brick wall and folded his arms across his chest.

"I guess I'm lucky I'm what they're bickering about."

"Yeah."

They remained where they were for some time, Draco eventually turning around and watching the water with Harry. How could the two of them come from such different backgrounds and have such similar problems? Until now, Harry had believed his parents would be happy with anything he chose to do with his life, as long as it meant he was happy. His father seemed to have that mindset, while his mother seemed to want better. Why though? They had all seemed happy enough up until this point. Why did Harry need to become a healer of all things?

"I wish they'd stop. It would take a miracle for me to pass even a few of the healer classes and I have no interest in healing." He sighed and slid the box towards Draco. "I don't really feel like eating this."

"I don't take leftovers," Draco sneered sliding the box back to Harry.

"I didn't touch it. I ordered it from The Frog's pond and the witch boxed it up immediately. It's Chocolate trifle."

Draco seemed to consider this. He pulled the box back.

"You're sure you don't want it? They have pretty good cake."

"I did, but not anymore." He shook his head. He could just make out the bookstore at the end of the sidewalk. "I don't want to be a healer."

"Then don't be." Draco had opened the box already and grabbed a plastic fork that had been placed inside. "You'll be of age soon, it won't matter what your mum thinks."

"Does that mean you'll talk to Ron and Hermione our seventh year?" Draco gave a small grunt and shoved a piece of cake into his mouth. "Exactly." Even if they were of age, they were both trying to keep their parents happy. What he really needed was to talk with Sirius. His godfather would know what to do, how to get his mother to accept his career choice. If he couldn't, maybe Sirius could talk Remus into persuading her. He glanced at Draco. At least Harry had others supporting him, family he could rely on. Draco only had himself and the rules lied out before him by his parents. "Do you think you'll do stuff your dad disapproves of once you've moved out?"

"Probably. I already do." He motioned to the cake with the fork he was holding. "This isn't exactly high quality food."

Harry nodded. He broke off a piece of the cake's corner and popped it into his mouth. High quality or not, it was pretty good.

"I thought you weren't eating any."

"I realized I have backup."

He let Draco finish the cake off and they started for the bookstore. Harry had a completely different goal in mind now however. They went in, cold air rushing at them.

"Mr. Malfoy, welcome!" A thin, older wizard wearing dark blue robes shouted. He looked strained and kept glancing around the doorway as if expecting the door to blow up.

"I'm alone," Draco said, the older wizard relaxing.

"Really," Harry asked in disbelief.

"My father terrorizes everyone. So what are you looking for anyway?"

"Parchment, ink, a quill."

Draco led him to a small section in the back of the store. There wasn't a big selection, but the few items laid out looked like they were decent and wouldn't fall apart after the first few uses. He removed a black quill, some ink, and a pack of parchment paper.

"You're in the way." The voice was annoyed and full of arrogance. "And wasting your money. The quality of those items is garbage at best. They're not going to work well."

Harry turned from the shelf, preparing to glare, maybe tell the person off, and walk away from the wizard who just couldn't keep his thoughts to himself, only to fail miserably, his breath catching in his throat. The wizard was tall, a few inches more than he was, with thick black hair falling just passed his ears, beautiful red eyes, and the most amazing cheekbones Harry had ever lied his eyes on. The wizard couldn't be much older than Draco or him. Harry caught a flash of something in the teen's eyes before only annoyance showed again.

My family will just fight more if I get into it with some famous wizard and witch's son, he told himself. This guy had to be the son of some healer, no doubt in town for the awards ceremony. The way he held himself, the way he talked, it was obvious he was used to getting his way and thinking he was better than others. It reminded him of Draco's attitude on steroids.

If only he could get away with a little magic. Or, even a physical attack. Sirius had shown him a few Muggle moves just in case he ever needed them. So far, he hadn't, but he'd wanted to try a few of them out, and this teen with his beautiful face and arrogant attitude was the perfect test dummy.

"Well?" The teen was losing patience. It made Harry want to stay put longer, to see how long it would take until the teen lashed out and gave him a legitimate excuse for fighting him.

You know you can't… Mentally scowling he grabbed the quill, black and what looked to be a dyed eagle feather that he'd been reaching for before the teen had made an appearance.

"Commoner."

Harry almost lost it at that. How could anyone be such an arse? Weren't bookstores supposed to be neutral grounds?

Don't entice him. With exceptional control, he turned his back on the teen and walked to the front counter, Draco following.

"You aren't going to say anything," Draco asked quietly.

"I hate people like that, do you know him," Harry asked placing the items in front of the old wizard. He wrapped the items up, Harry paid. They both exchanged thank yous and Harry took his items.

"No."

"Besides, I already have him beat."

"You do," Draco asked, his curiosity obvious. "How? It's definitely not in looks."

"I'm aware of that," Harry hissed, his cheeks flushing. Were people really capable of being that good looking? "Maybe he's using an appearance charm." If Draco thought he was good looking than there had to be some kind of appearance altering, right? People just didn't come that perfect looking.

They stepped back outside into the darkening sky. "This is better than looks."

"Now you have to tell me."

"I can't, but you'll see at the awards ceremony." Harry couldn't wait to see the smug look torn off that teen's face. No one else knew outside of his family that his mother had won. Harry shouldn't have known either, nor his father, but his mother had probably let it slip when word had arrived, or James had been in the room without the knowledge of the messenger. Regardless of the reason, knowing that one of this teen's parents weren't going to be receiving the award was one of the few things keeping him from walking back into the bookshop and cursing him.

"…You seem more agitated than usual."

"Huh?" They were back on the bridge already, Harry hadn't even noticed. It was true, he was annoyed with the teen, wanted to beat him with the pack of parchment paper he'd been holding, or grab the nearest book to do the job, but Draco was right. The teen had managed to get under his skin. Draco's own verbal abuse hadn't caused such a stir of emotions in him, even before they'd become uneasy acquaintances.

I'm jealous? That seemed like a logical conclusion. That teen was good-looking, no doubt smart, and probably had the world handed to him by his parents. A lot of his mother's coworker's children were like that. They went to specialized private tutoring schools, or their parents tutored them at home. They were fast tracked to becoming healers or official ministry workers at the top levels. He probably doesn't make his parents worry or fight either. Maybe if he'd been more like that teen, his parents wouldn't be bickering. His future would be secure in any job his mother wanted him to have. But, I don't want any job, I want to be an Auror, he reminded himself and he was on track for that.

"Are you going to be at the awards ceremony," Harry asked.

"Of course we are. My father gets invited to everything," Draco said not sounding happy at all about that. "At least we can stay at home for this one."

Harry gave a small nod. He almost told Draco about all the bad luck he'd endured up until this point, but decided against it. While Draco wasn't insulting him right now, he'd just use the information once they were back at school and Harry didn't want the students of Hogwarts to know that his parents had forgotten about him at the train station, even if the reason was understandable. No, best to keep his thoughts to himself, maybe let Sirius know in the letter he was going to write him. His godfather would have an answer to everything, if it was right or not was another matter entirely, but at least he'd try.

The teens said their goodbyes and separated at the front of the inn. Harry got the room number from the desk clerk. For once, he'd been lucky and his parents had remembered to tell the desk clerk that he would be coming and to give him the room number. The room was on the first floor, and when Harry stepped inside he was greeted by no one. The only sign that his parents had ever been in the room was the luggage placed besides the beds. They'd put Harry's things by the second bed, the one closest to the sliding glass door, and so he climbed onto that one. The bed wasn't comfortable like the beds at Hogwarts or comforting like his bed at home. It was hard, and Harry hoped clean.

Had his parents left the room, unable to remain in each other's presence? It was eight o'clock. They might just be getting dinner.

Harry ripped open the pack of parchment and removed a piece then dipped the quill into the bottle of ink. If he worked fast, he could finish the letter before his parents returned.

(TBC)

So, this was supposed to be a one shot…I kind of liked playing with this so it'll probably be about 5 chapters or so. That's the intention anyway.