Golden || Draco Malfoy

Chapter 1

"H-Harry?" said Draco, in astonishment. His voice came out as a squeak: High-pitched and nasal. The type of voice he had when he was...eleven. Harry paid him no attention probably because he couldn't hear him. 

He was definitely Harry, but his features were short, as was his frame. Draco took a moment to think. What type of magic was he experiencing? Was it perhaps a flashback? Or perhaps he had actually fallen into the mirror and banged his head on the brick floor, causing himself to go into a coma. 

Madam Malkin returned with black robes in her arms and broke the silence, "Hogwarts, dear?" she asked with a smile. Harry opened his mouth to say something, when the squat woman interrupted him, "Got the lot here- another young man being fitted up just now, in fact."

Harry turned his head to peer into the back of the shop where Draco sat, now being fitted by another witch. Draco hadn't noticed the itchy fabric being put on him, as he was far too busy staring at young Harry. He didn't dare look away, in fear that if he did, Harry would vanish- Or worse, that if he looked back, Harry would be lying on the floor in front of him, with glazed-over, pale eyes. The thought sent a shiver down his spine and tears to form in his eyes. 

He swallowed hard when Harry's eyes met his own. He thought long and hard about this very moment all those years ago. When Draco had seen Harry for the very first time. Had that been the first and last time he had ever looked at this boy with any other emotion than pure hatred?

He felt a pang in his heart. Harry was looking at him with bright green eyes filled with curiosity, but most of all, innocence. Draco was sure that at this moment in time, Harry had yet to know about the dark horrors that would soon haunt his life. 

Madam Malkin stood Harry on a stool next to Draco, slipped a long robe over his head and began to pin it to the right length. 

All the while, Draco stared at him. 

Finally, he mustered up the courage to speak: "Hullo, Hogwarts too?" he asked, obviously already knowing the answer, but he felt the need to ask him. To hear just any words come out of the boy.

"Yes," said Harry, simply. His voice was high, just like Draco's, but not as nasal. He sounded brighter.

Draco tried to think of something else to say, but realised he didn't have to. It was like the words he was supposed to say, were already programmed into his brain. 

"My father's next door, buying my books and mother's up the street looking at wands," his voice was bored-sounding and drawling. He cringed at the words he was speaking. Harry didn't care about those things. Draco didn't care about those things, either. 

He felt the words spilling into his mind. He thought about them, before deciding to rephrase the sentence. 

"Have you seen the new racing broom models? They're really cool, I'd really like to have one myself, but first-years aren't allowed." When Harry blinked at him in confusion, Draco quickly went with the first thing that came to mind: "Have you got your own broom?"

Harry shook his head, but gave him a slight smile of recognition that made Draco fight back a sigh of pure relief. 

"Play Quidditch at all?" he asked, genuinely curious. He wasn't too sure how much Harry had seen and done at this point. 

Again, Harry shook his head and turned away for the first time that whole conversation. 

"I could teach you!" Draco quickly said, earning back Harry's attention. 

Madam Malkin, whom Draco had completely forgotten about, laughed, "My dear boy, how on earth would you do that? No, no, best leave flying lessons to the professionals, I say. You'll both learn soon enough," she said, irritating Draco to his core. 

Harry perked up, "Will we be learning to fly on broomsticks at Hogwarts?" Draco couldn't help but smile at his clear excitement. 

"Of course we will! And, if we end up in the same house, we'll even have them together!" he said, his own excitement lacing his words. 

Harry gave him a slight look of confusion, "House?"

Draco smiled. He remembered his own sorting six years ago, when Harry had been so close to being put in Slytherin, but was adamant about being put in any other house. His smile faded once he realised that it had been his fault that Harry didn't want to be in Slytherin. Perhaps he would get the chance to change that now. 

"At Hogwarts there are houses. Each house has it's own common room, where you live. We even have a house-competition and Quidditch games," Draco explained. "I bet I'll be in Slytherin. It's where my whole family was put in when they attended the school."

"That's cool. I hope I get in Slytherin too then," said Harry, smiling at him. 

Harry peered over Draco's shoulder and his smile grew bigger. Draco followed the boy's gaze out the window and felt another tug at his heart. It was Hagrid and he was holding up two ice-creams in his large hands. 

"Hagrid," Draco muttered as if he were confirming it to himself. 

Harry nodded, "Do you know him? I think he's brilliant,"

Draco nodded too, "Yeah, I've heard of him. He's a sort of-" servant  is what he was about to say, but he caught himself, "Gamekeeper, isn't he?"

Harry nodded once more.

"What's your name, by the way?" Draco asked, of course, knowing the answer already, but wanting to be as polite as possible. 

"Harry. Harry Potter."

"I'm Malfoy. Draco Malfoy."

The boys smiled at each other, before Madam Malkin spoke once more: "That's you done, my dear."

Harry hopped off the stool, "Well, I'll see you at Hogwarts then. Bye, Draco!" he said and turned to leave the shop.

"See you, Harry!" said Draco. 

Harry left the shop and met with Hagrid, while Draco watched them through the window. He had come to a realization. He understood why he was here, in this time.

It was as clear as day.

He had to save the boy who lived.