[FIC] Because you loved me (Chaper 02)

[ran-mouri.livejournal.com]

Title: Because you Loved me - Chapter 02.
Author: [Unknown site tag]
Characters: HP/DM, mild RW/DM and RLSS.
Rating: PG-13 so far?
Warnings: AU XD kind off... I've never written this type of story before so I wouldn't know.
Word Count: 2490
Summary: AU – 3 year old Draco Malfoy disappeared from the park. Without him, Harry Potter's life is... somehow different. What happens when he meets a cute Durmstrang student by the name of Lupin during his 4th year?
Author's notes: I just wanted to see what happened if I mixed up some things about the story. So now I kinda traded the cliché Harry and Draco roles, without them losing their individual characteristics.

( He didn't think the Potter boy was THAT special anyway... )

Chapter 02.

A year of constant Slytherin influence had seen the Boy-Who-Lived, Harry Potter, slowly bloom into a confident young man who resembled his father in more ways than Severus Snape was willing to accept. The potion master had felt an instant dislike for the Potter boy, he had his father’s ridiculous glasses and cocky smile, even his childish voice sounded like the late James Potter’s, it was infuriating to say the least.

Of course he couldn’t act against the boy. He was a Slytherin and, as such, his responsibility. He couldn’t just take points to spite him like he did with any other houses, he couldn’t just challenge his limited, child intelligence, nor could he manipulate the situation so that other house head would find him in any compromising position from which Snape wouldn’t be able to get him out.

So, he left the boy alone…

Parkinson and Zabini were taking good care of him anyway; they taught him after classes were over so he was not that behind in his studies. They sent Flint with a specific shopping list for Madame Malkin’s, ignoring Harry’s complains about his uncle completely.

“Potter, do shut up.” Parkinson had snapped as she measured his arms and legs. “If you don’t want to keep your clothes then I’ll take them with me home, but you will not dress like a pauper while in my presence.” Her hard eyes and cold tone of voice made Harry lower his arms and surrender to her wishes.

Pansy just smirked.

Months passed quickly…

Suddenly the quiet boy wasn’t so quiet anymore, Snape noted. He openly spoke to his classmates and even joked around with them in a witty way that reminded Severus of Potter’s mother, even though he couldn’t phantom why the child still walked with his head down, no matter how much his friends tried to coerce him out of that demeaning habit. And he had to admit it was turning out to be a funny situation: Potter’s only son and heir, the iconic representation that all that was good and heroic, a witty Slytherin. Potter must be rolling in his grave…

And if he wasn’t, Severus Snape sure hoped he could bring him back to life just to see him squirm.

Ah, wishful thinking.

Still he had refused to get near the Potter boy, he was doing fine on his own anyway.

More so, he had other things to worry about…

Like Draco’s first letter from Durmstrang.

He was silently walking towards his rooms, absorbed in his godson’s account of his first months at school, his friends and enemies, the classes he didn’t like and the ones he adored. Apparently, Draco was getting ahead in potions, where the Professor, one of Severus’ old acquaintances, wrote the instructions on the board and let the students be guided by their own instincts and base knowledge of the ingredients.

Interesting technique.

A slow, almost fond smile stretched his lips.

Draco, while talented with potion making and care of magical creatures, seemed to be having difficulties with Ancient Runes and Divination. He claimed that his professors were transvestites with scary eyes that scolded him on his readings because he had forgotten much.

Lupin had been owled already because of Draco’s inability to interpret simple tea leaves and normal arcane runes, he knew, he had written him too a few weeks ago. The werewolf had wanted his opinion on the matter, considering he was a master at occlumancy. Severus had written back, after much consideration and study, explaining that it was most likely the years of Draco’s childhood he had forgotten that were blocking his general view of the messages in class. He told Lupin he had to converse with Karkaroff himself and explain his son had a grave accident concerning the Dark Arts as a baby and had lost almost four years of his memory.

A few days later, another owl had arrived for the Potion Master, with better news on the matter.

Now, reading Draco’s version of the incident, he wanted to laugh. Yes, his godson was bullied because of his size, he guessed something like that would happen. But he was glad to know that the boy, in good Slytherin fashion, had allied himself with powerful students and Karkaroff’s heir himself. And was campaining against the ones that had wronged him before.

He felt proud.

And as he was about to read the last page of his letter he found Professor McGonagall scolding the youngest Weasley, no surprise there… what catched his attention was the fact that Potter was being scolded too.

Scowling he pocketed his letter, annoyed at the interruption, and prepared to observe.

“Mister Weasley, you are saying that you were on your way to the library and Mister Potter attacked you….. again?” The Professor asked disbelievingly. Snape wondered why was Potter so silent, until he realized his mouth had been sown together with a jinx.

He scowled.

“Yes professor, I just wanted to ask my brother Percy some questions about my homework.”

Potter glared, his cheeks flushed with ire, but there was little he could to with his mouth shut.

McGonagall frowned and turned to glare at Potter, her mouth set in a thin line full of disapproval.

“Mr. Potter…”

Snape wanted to stay quiet, he really did. And if someone asked him about this incident in the future he would deny his participation altogether.

But at the time his Slytherin Mentor instinct overpowered his common sense, because he found himself pointing his wand at the Potter boy and muttering as faint Finite Incantatem that released the brat’s mouth.

Soon his indignant recollection of the facts filled the corridor and McGonagall’s face turned red from the colourful language Potter decided to use. Snape just smirked, as a more plausible story of a normal brawl between boys spilled from the frantic Weasley’s mouth and his Head of House’s disappointment at being lied at was almost palpable.

Severus felt his aid was not needed anymore, so he just raised an amused eyebrow as Potter spotted his presence and walked away.

It was the first time he helped Potter, and would not be the last, he feared.

Though he had to admit it was a little flattering that a little bit of his acceptance was the only thing the child needed to start walking with his head held high.

On the other side of the continent the years were being good to one Draconis James Lupin. Despite his strange teachers and even stranger schoolmates he was doing well in class, and between Viktor’s and Edvard’s help he had managed to perfection three different languages that he used in his studies. His defence teacher congratulated him daily and he spent his afternoons between the magical creatures of the forest and the greenhouse, examining the potion ingredients.

Some of his classmates told him he was a little too much of a nerd to really belong in Durmstrang, he calmly answered that he was not a nerd, he just was better than the rest and as such, he would acquire much more knowledge than them.

That had gained him some enemies, but as his Godfather Severus had said, he should never be ashamed of his excellence.

Currently he was reading the newspapers while the rest of his year mates chatted and waited for breakfast to be served. Viktor, sitting by his side blinked his large golden eyes and tried to peek into his reading.

“Still no news from that convict you are obsessing over?” He asked boredly, petting his young friend’s head idly. Draco pouted and folded his paper. He would have to finish his reading later that day.

“He’s not just a convict, he’s Sirius Black, my father’s former school friend. He could be anywhere, he could hurt my dad.” He had rehearsed that same speech over and over again as soon as his father had returned from England. He had to admit he had never seen his dad so happy, and uncle Sirius had stared at him with the most comical expression on his face before glomping him joyously and proclaiming he was the personification of maradeurian perfection (which, for some reason, made his father blush embarrassedly) and the living image of his dearest Regulus, whoever that was.

Still he got spoiled silly whenever uncle Sirius visited their small house in Germany and could always count on a bedtime story about his dad’s most embarrassing school days.

He just had to like the man.

“Your father can defend himself quite well, Draco,” Commented Edvard from his left. “And Black is supposed to be after Harry Potter anyway, so, why worry?”

Oh, yes. Harry Potter…

How could Draco forget about THAT.

Ever since Godfather Snape had written his dad about Potter when Draco was about to enter Durmstrang, the werewolf’s mental stability had taken a turn for the worse. He bought at least four different English newspapers and scanned them carefully every morning, saving every piece of news he found about the Boy-Who-Lived in an old album. Draco didn’t mind the extra reading, since he liked to be informed. But Remus’ paycheck had suffered from it and since he attended school most of the year he was not there to tell his dad to spend his money on food instead of more news.

He had seen his father suffer and bite his nails as he read The Prophet’s accounts on the Potter kid’s adventures with some DADA professor in first year and then his miraculous rescue of a girl and fight with a basilisk in second year. Draco himself wasn’t as concerned, he, on the other hand, kept the small account of the other students injured during Potter’s adventures and almost felt sorry for the Zabini and Goyle kids that always ended up in St. Mungo’s, a hospital of some sort, after said adventures and the Parkinson girl that had to answer to the press each year.

In Draco’s opinion, Potter wasn’t that special.

Still, he couldn’t tell that to his father and uncle Sirius, or they would be VERY upset, but he made sure to write to his godfather, or Father Severus, as he had started calling him after his third summer with the Potion Master. Father Severus understood his reservations about Potter and encouraged his opinion that the boy was nothing more than a muggle-raised wizard with a lot to learn and very little time to do so.

“… Draco, are you listening?” Viktor’s deep voice pulled the blond boy out of his musings. He looked up to his friend’s concerned brown eyes and forced a small smile on his face.

Apparently, Headmaster Karkaroff was in the middle of a speech about the Triwizard tournament and how he was sure his perfect seventh years were the sure champions that would bring honour and glory back to their school. Viktor’s hand squeezed his own and he squeezed back. The older boy was most likely feeling the pressure already, and would be victim of one of his anxiety attacks as soon as he was alone.

He looked at Edvard pointedly. They would have to make sure Viktor was not alone while staying at Hogwarts.

“It seems the Durmstrang group will need a cute pet for the journey.” His friend smirked. Draco frowned, but guessed it was a good excuse as any to allow Draco into the ship and into England. He could almost imagine his father’s furious reaction.

He looked at Viktor once more and sighed.

Well, his dad always told him that friends came first.

And what was so bad about England anyway? He’d always wanted to visit Hogwarts and this was a good chance as ever.

“LUPIN!! YOU DISGUSTING PIECE OF SHIT!” A voice screamed as a tall boy with short black hair made his way to their table, his eyes alit with fury.

“Kovalevskiev,” He said, amused. “What seems to be the problem now?”

“You little bastard!! What the hell did you do to me!! I’m gonna break your scrawny neck and-,” but the boy couldn’t finish his threat because he started choking on the spot and clutching his throat in agony, attracting the rest of the student’s attention.

Before long he was spitting something small and brown that smelled awfully disgusting.

The room fell silent.

Everyone was staring at the boy as he blushed furiously.

Suddenly a first year stood up, pointing at the offending object.

“Poo!!!!” he cried, covering his nose. “He has poo in his mouth!”

Every single student started laughing, as the first years, nearer to Kovalevskiev ran to get away from the smell.

Edvard covered his face, Viktor blinked in shock.

Draco smirked.

“That will teach you not to talk like that about my father, you bastard. For your information, yes, he is a werewolf and one of the most intelligent wizard of our age. If you want to speak shit, do so literally.”

The black haired boy wanted to protest but he was choking again and their Charms professor, Mr. Weisspferd, was dragging Kovalevskiev out of the dinning room, covering his mouth to stifle his own laughter.

“I can’t believe you did that,” Edvard hissed. “I’ll never let you into my father’s personal library again!” Draco patted his head happily.

“He’ll live, and learn.” A third year, a half-vampire child, laughed, happy that one of those stupid separatist wizards had finally been punished. Maybe the rest that harassed half-blooded students like him would lay down for a while.

“Admit it, it was fun.” Viktor chuckled. “And quite imaginative, Poppet, I’m proud.”

Draco beamed at the praise and started putting together three different letters in his head. One explaining the incident to his father, as he was sure Headmaster Karkaroff would contact him with the news. Other was to his uncle Sirius, he was sure he would make him proud, and the last one to his Father Severus, in which he would also ask that he suggested ways to get into Hogwarts without raising much attention, and without his father finding out before he arrived to England.

With a small smile on his face he leaned onto Viktor and patted his hand reassuringly. He would go with him to England and would support him through all the Triwizard Tournament.

What’s the worse that could happen anyway?

To Be Continued.

A/N: I know this chapter seems a little confusing to you all, I feel a little insecure about the timeskip, but I really, really wanted to get to fourth year as soon as possible. Next chapter, Draco goes to Hogwarts, and finally meets the infamous Harry Potter.