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Y/N Malfoy and Harry Potter come from two completely different backgrounds. Y/N in a wealthy, harsh family; and Harry, his immediate family gone, stuck living with his distant Aunt and Uncle. The pair meet and form a close bond as f...
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(3rd person POV)
Ever since he had arrived back at the Dursley's house from Hogwarts, Harry was already aching to be back at the stone castle, laughing with his friends. He even found himself missing the classes (except for potions, obviously).
Unknown to his fellow classmates, Harry's aunt, uncle, and cousin all treated him horribly. Up until a couple months before the first year, they had him sleeping in an old, cramped cupboard under the stairs. A bloody cupboard!
Sometimes, they would send him to his cupboard after he would cause trouble. Harry's relatives would purposely starve him when this happened, forcing him to try to sneak some food from the fridge late at night while they were asleep. But he didn't mean to cause mischief, really! It just sort of happened!
Like when he was running from his cousin Dudley and his little gang back at their old primary school. Harry had meant to jump behind the bins against the wall, and somehow ended up on the roof.
Later that day, Harry had tried shouting to Uncle Vernon through the cupboard door that he didn't mean to. There had to be some sort of logical explanation, right? Harry assumed the wind had caught him mid-jump. But still, for it to throw him that high up. . .?
Then, shortly after Harry had received his first Hogwarts letter, they had given him (much to his pudgy cousin's great displeasure) Dudley's second bedroom. It had been used as a sort of storage room for all of Dudley's things that didn't fit into his first bedroom.
Now, a year later, Harry is back at the Dursley's, back in that same old dingy bedroom, back in the house that had never truly been his home.
He laid on his bed, flipping through the photo album Hagrid had gifted him at the end of last year. He flipped to one of his favorite photographs and ran his fingertips over the paper. It was a picture of Harry as a tiny infant in the arms of his mother and father. They looked just as they did in the mirror, only, so much more alive. He watched with a tiny smile on his face as his father held onto baby Harry's arm and waved it merrily at the camera. His mother giggled at the sight.
Harry was so absorbed in his book that he didn't notice his snowy owl, Hedwig, ruffle her feathers with an irritable hoot in her cage. Uncle Vernon had refused to let Harry let Hedwig out to fly around. He was convinced she would sneak messages to his 'freaky little friends'.
Suddenly, a strangled yell from downstairs caused Harry to jerk up from his bed with a start.
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(Harry's POV)
"IF YOU CAN'T CONTROL THAT BLOODY PIGEON, IT'LL HAVE TO GO!" Uncle Vernon yells as he climbs up the stairs. He stops at my door and raps sharply on the slab of wood, "Open up, boy!"
