𝘐 𝘸𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥 - 𝘡𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘵𝘴

Hearts Divided

Zayn was a accident, to put it simply. The small stain on the honor of the English man, the living proof of his father's infidelity. His birth was death marked, as his mother had lost her life due to birth complications. Zayn was as scandalous in birth as he was in death.

He didn't know much about his parents, and in a country like his own where your birth determines the passage of your life, he was essentially nothing. His religion, caste, inheritance were all of mystery to him.

The dog lady told him his mother was the English man's whore, before scoffing and telling him to get on with his chores. He went by Zayn Malik, his mother's surname, for he had known nothing of his father.

So when he was ordered by the British Raj, to serve as an attendant to the Generals young son, he had no opposition. The dog lady from the orphanage had slipped a extra chapati into his blanket that night, her thin lips gave the slightest of smiles before she slipped into the midnight.

So when he got to the small bungalow where the General and his family resided he was adopted into the family of servant there, it was hard work. The beatings and cleanings and cooking. But he was grateful for the job, it served as an identity outside the confined gray walls of the orphanage.

The bungalows affairs were kept strict and clear. The generals son was not permitted to leave his room, the cholera epidemic plagued fear in the mind of Englishwoman.

Zayn had rarely seen the boy, except for the matter of once. He was a sickly pale boy with lanky limbs and messy curls atop his head. He spent his summers in Yorkshire, and rarely came to India.

Zayn approached the boy with slight apprehension, as he did to all his masters. He left plates of food at his door and tidied his room.

The boy spent afternoons asleep hiding in sheets of blankets, and when he was awake he stayed in his room and often threw tantrums over small things.

Zayn was also attending to his education whilst serving the raj. And he picked up the basics of English, and English meant power.

His friendship with the boy has blossomed over time, the boy no longer hid himself in his room and began making his own bed. He was yet to acknowledge Zayns presence it didn't faze him however.

Zayn grew up in the years he spent cleaning and attending that house, he was no longer the small orphan boy he once was. He now attended freedom fighter meetings in secret and worked as a spy in the house. Harry spent more and more of his time in England and scarcely showed up. He still sent letters to Zayn like he always did, and Zayn always responded.

A/n: part one! This will be at least a 3 part story