hey, i wrote a lil one shot thingie...but it needs a title...and i need to know if its any good. HELP!!
TITLE: None at the moment
Pairing: None. Tis a Draco gen fic.
When Draco was younger he liked to play house. Every time his father went on a business trip, or even on a short outing to make some sort of purchase for his mother, Draco would watch with eager eyes from the top of the stairs as his father made ready to leave…and when Lucius finally Apparated out of the Manor Draco would give a soft whoop of joy and make a beeline for the kitchens, where there was always a house elf or three to be found. When he reached the doors he would straighten his little shoulders and school his young face into an imitation of his father’s cold mask.
Upon entering the kitchen, however, his expression always morphed into one of delight as he realized that the house elves were ready for his visit. Already there was a mini-table and tea set put out for use, with Draco’s favorite chocolate biscuits set out on a plate and a few house elves in their respective chairs. He would clap small hands in delight and seat himself next to Dobby, who was especially good at giving the praise Draco assumed the head of the house always deserved. He’d never seen anything less given to his father, at any rate…and Draco wanted to be just like his father.
So Draco would order the house elves around and eat all the biscuits—all the while pretending that he was chatting with important people from the Ministry—and the house elves would do as he said with a smile, for little Draco was so adorable and much nicer than his father. They knew that the little boy was trying to emulate the older man, but Draco never hit, or yelled. He simply grinned with chocolate covered teeth and pretended that he was big and important and helping solve crucial problems; spouting about Mudbloods and wiping the wizarding world of all unworthy creatures in his child’s lisp.
But then he was almost eleven, and it was time for Draco to go to Hogwarts. His mother and father took him to Diagon Alley for school supplies, and Draco was so excited he could barely sit still, which earned him a scolding from his mother and a Look from his father. Abashed, Draco stared at his feet for the rest of the journey, and told himself that he couldn’t act this way once they got to Diagon Alley…he had to be like his father, cool and disdainful.
Once they exited the carriage, Draco looked up at his father and mimicked to the best of his ability the older man’s expression. Looking down at just the right moment his father caught him doing so, and a slight smile appeared on his face. Turning to his wife, he instructed her to go look at wands; he would take Draco to be fitted for his robes. Narcissa went off to do as she was told, and Lucius steered Draco towards Madame Malkins. Once at the door he paused, and Draco looked up at him questioningly. “I’m going to buy your books,” Lucius said simply, adding, “and you are not to leave here until either your mother or I come back for you, understand?” waiting for Draco’s nod of affirmation before sauntering off.
Draco watched him go, trying hard to memorize the way his father moved, so that he could better copy it. Only after his father’s back had disappeared behind the door of Flourish and Blotts did Draco make his own way into the robe shop, where he was promptly set on a stool and begun to be fitted for his robes.
It was while he was standing on the stool that the other boy came in. He had raggedy clothes and messy black hair that seemed to want to stick up in the back…but what really caught Draco’s attention were his eyes. They were a bright green, greener than anything Draco had ever seen and they were blinking at him from behind ugly round glasses. He was placed on the stool next to Draco, and Draco decided at once that this boy was a nobody; someone his father would not even pay attention to. He put on his most drawling voice and began talking to the boy, letting him know with his words and his tone that he was far better than the boy could ever hope to be, listening to the stilted answers and noting the irritation with delight. The boy was jealous; it was obvious, and Draco wanted the conversation to continue because those eyes were flashing at him and he’d suddenly decided that this boy might be more fun than either Crabbe or Goyle, who tended to grunt whenever Draco said anything to them and never had any good ideas of their own. This boy here seemed able to come up with some micheif of his own and Draco had decided that he could probably be fun…and he was a pureblood, which was a huge leap in his favor…but then he was jumping off the stool and walking away with the giant oaf who’d been peering into the window seconds before and he didn’t look back and Draco decided that he probably wasn’t much fun after all.
Soon after the other boy left, Draco’s own father was at the window, and he was allowed to step off of the stool and outside. Lucius paid for the robes and they wandered down to Ollivander’s, where Draco got his wand. After that Draco grabbed each of his parents by the hand and dragged them to look at the brooms; he begged his father for one but Lucius frowned and said that unless he was on a Quidditch team there was no reason for him to have a broom just yet, and Draco glared at his father before brightening and asking for ice cream instead…which he got.
It was later, while licking a peanut butter fudge ice cream off a cone that Draco mentioned the boy at Madame Malkin’s. He told them how the boy hadn’t seemed to know what Quidditch was even though he was a pureblood and his father had frowned slightly and asked what the boy’s name had been. Draco had shrugged his small shoulders and replied that he hadn’t found out, which resulted in a small lecture about how well bred wizards always introduced themselves first, and then Lucius had asked what the boy looked like. At Draco’s description both of his parents had raised their eyebrows and shared a Look, but neither said a word. And then Draco’s ice cream was finished and it was time to go home. The boy wasn’t mentioned again, and by the time he got home Draco had almost forgotten about him.
Two weeks later his father had another business trip, and Draco made his way down to the kitchens. But when he got there he was surprised to find that nothing was set up as it usually was. Perplexed and a little irritated, he had demanded that the table be brought out and that the tea be set up…only to have Dobby reply in a quavering voice as he bashed his small head against the wall that the Master had been by that morning, and said that Draco was not to be playing with the house elves anymore.
Furious, Draco had stormed through the house, shouting for his mother until he found her. When he did, he told her what Lucius had done and demanded that she tell the house elves to play with him. Narcissa had shaken her head and replied softly that now that he was to be going to Hogwarts like a big boy, he could not play like a little one anymore. Draco had cried and wailed and thrown a tantrum--he even tried holding his breath until he turned purple—but nothing worked. His parents had made up their minds and that was all there was to it.
It was two weeks later that Draco found out that the boy he had met at Diagon Alley was actually Harry Potter. Two weeks later when he suffered the first—but certainly not the last—bout of humiliation at that boy’s hands. In time Draco forgot that he’d ever wanted to be Potter’s friend, even for that brief moment…but he always had a vague sense that the real start of all his troubles had started the minute his parents had decided it was time for him to grow up.
so? yeah...tell me tell me what you think! Oh by the way, I get to go to OZZFEST tomorrow! wheeehoo!