A/N: I've decided to post up this story here. xD Yay! Let me know what you think of it!
Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns everything except the idea of this peice of writing. Yep. She's pretty much the luckiest person alive...
Draco sighed, muttering a slew of angry words under his breath as he head towards the Headmaster's office. Damn attention whore, that's what he was, even when he obviously didn't want it. The blond scoffed at that thought. The Boy Who Lived, not wanting attention? It was nothing short of a miracle, really. Damn bloody teenager was always the topic of everyone's conversations. Potter did this, Potter did that, Potter didn't die yet… everyone bloody spoke about him! Hell, even Draco spoke about him, and it was sickening.
"What're you looking at?" the Slytherin snarled furiously as green eyes peered up at him through the cavern of clothes bundled in his arms. The little head immediately dug itself back into its sanctuary of robes, and Draco was glad for this. He didn't want to stare at the little figure; it was bad enough that he had taken him in the first place. But what else was he supposed to do? Everyone had been gawking at the undersized thing, gaping at him, and the elfin creature had practically wet itself under everyone's stares.
"Even when you mess up you still get all the bloody attention…" Draco grumbled, feeling a strong urge to go on a large rant, one that would include the fact that he didn't deserve any attention, and how much he should just keel over to the Dark Lord. Yes, wouldn't that be a sight? Harry Potter, kneeling in front of the greatest man alive –that is… he employed the term 'alive' very loosely. Sure he had been dead a few times before, but he was alive now – and handing himself over. Yes, what a very entertaining and delicious thought that was.
"M'sorry."
The voice was so small and so timid that Draco paused. He stared at the mess of cloth in his arms, feeling the small body retreat further away and squirming around. It seemed to demand his undivided attention, trying not to drop the tiny body from his arms, but Merlin! He was just squirming so bloody much!
"Stop that!" Draco ordered harshly, afraid the boy would crack his head open if he fell to the floor. Not that he cared, of course. It would just be messy. And he'd probably get blamed for it. The squirming ceased immediately and Draco was a bit afraid the little bugger had actually snuffed it. He felt the fragile body tremble slightly; he sighed, holding onto the boy tighter and gentler against his chest. He really wasn't used to carrying infants.
"M'sorry."
"Yeah, I heard." Draco exhaled deeply, tiredly, and continued his walk towards the twin gargoyles. "I wish you'd be better at Potions, Potter. Who knows what the hell you've done this time."
"M'sorry…"
Draco shut his eyes and bid himself to remain calm. Snapping and yelling at the little tyke would get him nowhere. Instead of snapping, he decided to go on and continue venting. It was a much better alternative. "What did you add to that potion, anyway? Snape obviously didn't know. 'He needs to see the Headmaster'. Well duh. Look at you! You're a little kid! Pfff, he never sends anyone to the old coot. Merlin knows what you've done to yourself."
"M… M'sorry…"
Wait, was he – Oh Merlin no. Why him? Why him? What had he ever done in his life to deserve such a fate?
"No, shh, don't cry. Stop crying! I can't handle crying! Stop that! Shh… come on now. Crying's for babies. You aren't a baby, are you?"
Draco heard a loud sniffle, and he prayed to any deity that would listen that the little bugger wasn't wiping his nose on the fancy new robes he had just bought last weekend.
"M'sorry I'm so weird. I try not to be. I don't mean to be…"
"Yeah, well…"
Words stopped as they came to a halt before the statues that would lead to their destination with just a muttered word.
"Peppermint Patty Pleasure."
Coming alive, the twin gargoyles moved out of the way, dragging the wall with them, and leaving a spiral staircase in their wake. As Head Boy, Draco knew what the password was, incase of 'emergencies'. He knew all the passwords. It was a perk that came with the job. The boy against him was silent, and Draco didn't care enough to notice the incredulous stares from those emerald orbs. The blond knocked three times on the solid oak door at the end of the swirling staircase. He tried to arrange himself into as erect and proper a position he could whilst carrying his specific burden.
"Come in!"
Damn cheery man…
"Ah, Mr. Malfoy. What is that you're carrying in your arms?"
Draco moved to the desk and released his hold of the thing in his arms, carefully, but none too gracefully. He cared to not drop it head first, that would leave a bloody mess on the fine desk. No pun intended. "That, sir, would be the Little Boy Who Lived."
The small figure shuffled, trying to find his way through the layers of robes until eventually a head poked through. Glasses hung over his round face, haphazard, giving the illusion that beautiful green eyes were larger, the inquisitiveness found within accentuated. Around the green it was slightly pink and Draco figured it had been from the crying he had done earlier. The rest of his body was still draped in the Gryffindor rags he had worn just earlier that day.
"Oh dear."
"Yeah."
"…" Dumbledore stood, a frown on his face, his blue eyes still retaining their twinkling lustre. Made Draco want to retch up his lunch, that's what it did. That blasted elder was too happy for it to be dismissed as 'sane' and 'normal'. "Lemon drop?" Draco shook his head quickly, his face a mask, curtaining any emotion, not that there was any save mild disdain, and perhaps just a hint of curiosity. "This is… quite a predicament he seems to be in. Would you like a lemon drop?" Draco watched as a mop of raven hair followed the little one's movements, back and forth as he shook his head. Soon, Dumbledore's eyes were back on Draco. "Do you know what happened?"
"That dolt probably put too much of something in his potion. I wasn't paying attention to what he was doing, but whatever he did caused a thick blue smoke to fill the room. Professor Snape vanished it after people started crying out, and then he was there, on the floor, small and quite different. Professor picked him up, and everyone was staring, and he told us that he needed to see you. Obviously he didn't know what to do. But everyone was unable to move, just staring at him, so I decided I'd take it upon myself to bring him to you personally, since I seemed to be the only one who had enough sense not to gawk."
He doesn't need more attention than he already has. Damn glory hog. Draco's mind was in a loop, it seemed. Hadn't he already thought about how much of an attention whore Harry bloody Potter was? Yes. He definitely had.
"Ah…" The old man stroked his long white beard thoughtfully, though he was obviously troubled. Draco's mask was put on his face once more – it seemed to have slipped while he was talking. Hmm, wait. That was bad, wasn't it? If the mask fell when he spoke? Yes, definitely bad. Draco would have to work on that.
"Do you know your name?" Silver eyes blinked and gazed upon the old man trying to start a conversation with the young.
"M'Harry."
"Do you have a last name, Harry?" The little boy shook his head in the negative. "No? Alright then. Do you know who I am, Harry?" The little boy shook his head again. "I'm Dumbledore. It's very nice to meet you."
"Why doesn't he know who you are?"
"Hush for a moment, Mr. Malfoy. Now Harry, do you know who that boy over there is?" The man pointed a finger at Draco, and the teen stiffened, his eyes hard on the finger, quasi fearful he'd be hexed for something he'd never done. Harry nodded nevertheless. "You do?" Harry nodded again. "Who is he, then?"
"He's… He's Mister Malafoyd."
"Who?" Draco arched a fine eyebrow condescendingly and the little Harry blushed.
"Tha's what you called him before…"
"But do you know him?" Harry nodded again. "How do you know him?"
"He brought me away from all those people. Brought me here." Draco rolled his eyes. Stupid little boy, he was. Of course, he probably didn't know what the question had meant, so there really wasn't much to blame him for… Draco decided he'd still blame him, though.
"How old are you, Harry?"
The little boy looked hesitant about how many fingers to hold up, but eventually managed to spread his hand, five fingers splayed in the air. Dumbledore nodded, and Draco was vaguely aware of the portraits watching the scene before them.
"How did you get here, my boy?"
Draco watched as Harry's eyes watered up and he took a big sniff to calm himself. "I dunno… I can't remember. I just woke up, sort've, and a bunch of people were staring at me."
Dumbledore nodded, sighed, and sat down on his chair, staring at the toddler. "I'm afraid we'll have to contact his family."
Harry's eyes immediately widened. "No!" he cried, trembling again. "No! Please don't tell Uncle Vernon I'm here! I did something weird again, didn't I? Yes, that's why I'm here. Please don't tell. Please! I'll be good, I'll be a good boy! Just don't tell him! Please don't tell! I don't mean to be weird! I don't mean to be a freak! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! Please don't tell…"
Draco cocked an eyebrow up, and then directed his gaze toward Dumbledore. What would he do now that the hero of the wizarding world was a sobbing mess on his desk?
"I'll be good. Promise. I'll be a good boy. I'm not a freak. I promise. I promise. Don't tell. I'll be good…"
Dumbledore took a deep and, what sounded like, a pained sigh. He looked at Harry through his half moon spectacles. "Well, we need to tell someone, Harry. Please understand."
"But I'll be good! I promise! I'll scrub the floors and cook the food and make the beds and wash the walls and I promise I'll be good! Don't tell!"
Was Dumbledore really trying to make a little five year old understand? Sod that! If Draco had been Headmaster, he would have contacted the twerp's family right away. Who cares if Harry was scared? He was five for Merlin's sake! And something else was troubling the blond. This was Harry Potter, supposed saviour, and he was going on about household chores? Wasn't he a spoiled brat? Sure he lived with muggles, but he was Harry Potter. Harry Potter! He was probably richer than the Malfoys, although Draco would rather be attacked by another hippogriff than ever admit that.
"Harry, please understand that this is not your decision. You're merely a little boy. Anything serious that happens to you needs to be reported to them – "
"I'll rinse the toilets! I'll polish your shoes! I'll … I'll… do you like cookies? I'll bake cookies! Please don't tell Uncle Vernon. Please don't!"
"He won't! Just shut up!" Draco had had just about enough of this. "No one wants you to clean or scrub or polish, Potter. No one wants your cookies! Just stop your babbling and crying and no one'll tell your stupid uncle anything, got it?" The little boy's head snapped towards Draco, his eyes watery and the green in them magnified by the tears and glasses. The toddler took a big sniff. Gods, the Slytherin could see the snot slipping from his nose. Harry nodded, understanding Draco's words, and reached for a piece of cloth he was bundled up in to wipe his nose.
"No! Dear God in heaven, no." Harry froze, afraid he'd done something wrong, his eyes watering up more than before. The blond sighed and rolled his eyes, pulling out a green handkerchief from his pocket. "Use this. Don't wipe your nose on that. It's disgusting. You wore that, I'll have you know." He offered the hanky with his initials to the boy, who took it and wiped his nose, blowing into the material. Draco's nose wrinkled, and Harry blushed. "You can keep that," he murmured when Harry offered it back at him with an apologetic look. The boy blushed deeper and pulled the handkerchief closer to his body.
"Well, since you've taken an obvious liking to the boy, you can take care of him, Mr. Malfoy."
And it was at this precise moment that the seven gates of hell broke, and all demons were let loose.
"You can't just dump him on me! I don't want to be a baby sitter! Gods, it's Potter! A Potter that is only five years old! I didn't like him then, so why in Merlin's name would I like him now?"
That mask Draco was supposed to have decided to leave him. It had left him quite a while ago. Draco would have to make a new one quite soon. Green eyes were staring at him, and the blond was feeling mighty uncomfortable. "I'm sorry Potter, but it's the truth. Learn it, love it, never forget it."
The small boy nodded, as in understanding, and Draco just groaned. "Mr. Malfoy, please keep your calm. No need to alarm this dear child. I was merely pondering your parenting skills. Obviously they are not up to par. I'm sure Ms. Granger and Mister Weasley will want to take care of their best friend."
"Gods. He'll be like their love child." Maybe Draco should make a list of all the things that made him sick to his stomach. This day really did include a lot of them.
"Mr. Malfoy, please keep your comments to yourself. Thank you for bringing him here. You may leave now." Draco bowed his head, and with a last look at the little Potter on the desk, left the office.
"Bye Mister Malafoyd."