Star-Crossed | Draco Malfoy

.03

Harry

Natalie had been crying for hours in Harry's arms after Uncle Vernon shut them in the cupboard once more. His heart squeezed painfully listening to his sister's tears.

She always pretended to be the strong one out of the two of them. Where Harry should have been.

He was the big brother after all. He was always worried for her, and wanted to keep her safe.

But whenever it came to their family, he grew nervous.

She was fiery to a fault. He wanted badly to follow her lead, but he was afraid what he tried to do would do them more harm instead of good.

So he tried to keep her out of trouble. But more often than not, trouble seemed to follow them wherever they went.

The next day, as it started, was far quieter than the last. Though no less uncomfortable.

Dudley had recovered from his shock and was in the sitting room, dressed in a clean pressed school uniform.

He preened and posed as his father flitted about him, flicking picture after picture.

"Caveat Smeltonia..." Vernon mused pridefully as his son continued to pose, "Proudest day of my life."

Harry gazed at them sourly, nose scrunched in distaste as he tried his best to busy himself with his chores.

Natalie was doing the same behind him in the kitchen, dusting the china as he wiped down the table.

He tried his hardest to ignore the scene in the sitting room, though a tightness gripped his chest every time he caught sight of Dudley's smug, sick smirk glaring in his direction.

It was always like this.

They were invisible, treated like shadows, or some sort of disease in this house they'd never been welcome in.

"Will we have to wear that too?" the words spilled from his lips before he could stop them, thoughts connecting to his mouth quicker than he wished.

They slashed through the curtain of false serenity blanketing the space. Natalie stilled behind him, he felt the pulse of shock flickering through her at his outburst.

Has... Her voice warned in his skull.

He glanced at her over his shoulder, her hazel eyes were wide in warning. She didn't want any more problems caused, especially not after the day they'd had yesterday.

All three of the Durselys turned toward him in disbelief, as if the very concept of the idea was laughable.

And laugh they did.

Petunia sneered at him, her crooked, thin nose upturning in disgust as she regarded the twins with contempt.

"You? Go to Smeltings?" She let out a bitter scoff, "Don't be ridiculous, you'll both be going to the State school, where you've always been and where you will stay."

Harry grimmaced as Petunia swept around them and through the kitchen, fishing out old, sagging clothes that had been boiling on the stove for at least the last hour.

"And these are what you'll be wearing, once I've finished dyeing them." She mused simply.

Harry watched Natalie's nose scrunch as she took in the sight of the ghastly, long pleated skirt hanging from the tongs.

"That looks like something from a century ago, I'll look like a walking history lesson." She groaned.

"And those are Dudley's old uniforms, they'll fit me like bits of old elephant skin." Harry grunted his concerns as well.

But their protests fell on deaf ears, as always, "They'll fit you both just fine." Petunia snapped, turning back to her task.

"Now, go fetch the post, why don't you. Make yourselves useful for once."

Sighing, Harry and Natalie finished their original tasks then trudged to the front door.

The usual stack of bills and letters sat awaiting them on the welcome mat and both twins moved to pick up the mail.

Harry handed his sister a small package as he rummaged through the rest, returning to the kitchen.

However, something odd caught his eye as he sifted through the envelopes in his hands. There were two tan envelopes, bearing red seals and in the corners of both, Harry's and Natalie's names were scrawled in swooping black ink.

Vaguelly, Harry remembered passing the second envelope, the one bearing his sister's name to her as they walked into the kitchen.

He distributed the other letters to his uncle, gaze still locked on the envelope in his hands.

It was explicitly addressed to him.

Mr. H. Potter

Cupboard Under the Stairs

4, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey.

Natalie's had been addressed in nearly the exact same way, aside from the initial of her first name.

Their address. Their names. And the cupboard?

What odd letters, though they never got letters of any sort, so even the fact that they got one at all was odd as it was.

Natalie was staring, just as much in shock as he was, at her own letter in her grasp after she placed the small parcel down on the kitchen table.

Both twins hardly had a moment to either register their shock and confusion, or open their letters when Dudley, ever the opportunist, snatched them both from their hands, shouting as he ran to his father.

"Dad, dad look! Harry and Natalie've got letters!"

"Hey!" Natalie shouted as she attempted to chase him and steal them back, her face scrunched in anger.

Harry was shouting after him as well, following behind his sister, simmering in silent rage.

"Those are ours! Give them back!"

"Yours?" Vernon scoffed sharply, "Who on earth would be writing to you?"

But deep down he knew their uncle had no intention of letting either of them see those letters, not now that he knew they mattered to them. Not when he so brazenly ripped open them both, reading through the contents as his wife and son peered over his shoulders, curiously.

For a brief moment, the room fell into tense silence as the Dursely's eyes grew haunted, slowly moving up to stare at the Potter twins in disbelief.

Harry's heart thundered in his chest and he glanced to his side, sharing a nervous glance with his sister beside him.

What was in those letters? What shocked the Durselys that badly?

Why were they addressed in such a strange way?

But whatever was etched inside them, they wouldn't be finding out today.

Not as Vernon surged from his chair and promptly whisked into the living room, aside from the frantic shouts and protests from the twins as they raced after him, nearly begging as their uncle tossed the two letters into the roaring fireplace without a second thought.

No, the Durselys would not allow either of them to have anything even remotely resembling an inch of the twins' pasts -- the past Petunia and Vernon had worked so damn hard to bury through dicipline and structure.