The Middle (A Drarry FanFiction)

Chapter One - The Middle

   "I cannot fix on the hour, or the spot, or the look or the words, which laid the foundation. It is too long ago. I was in the middle before I knew that I had begun."

Jane Austen. Pride and Prejudice.

Part One: The Middle

The life of Harry Potter had not, unfortunately, found itself a stranger to misfortune.

As an infant, before his first words had been spoken or even first steps taken, a terrible illness had deprived him of his loving parents, spiriting them away into the next life and leaving the young boy in the care of his mother's sister and her family.

Mr and Mrs Dursley were respectable people, so nothing was to be done except show charity to their nephew, and take the boy in as their own. But in truth this was only the start of young Harry's misfortunes, as behind closed doors the family were most unkind to the poor child, reminding him continuously that their good grace was all that was standing between him and a life of poverty and hardship. Growing alongside his cousin, of equal age as Harry almost to the week, he tried his best to appreciate his relations' generosity in taking him into their modest home. However, the cruel words and sudden strikes lead him to believe that hardship was very much a part of his life no matter what his aunt and uncle liked to proclaim.

Still, throughout these sorrows, Harry was naturally of a happy disposition as much as an unwanted young man could be, and delighted in the mischief and adventure that so dominates such boys and their imaginations. As his tutoring consisted only of the lessons his cousin Dudley refused to partake in, he often found himself with time free to explore the town of Little Whinging in Surrey, and that was how one day, in his eleventh year, he had happened upon the Black estate, being rented for the summer by the family's youngest daughter and her family.

Draco Malfoy was the only son and heir to the great Malfoy name, and what a grand name it was! When first meeting the boy with fine pale hair and soft, delicate skin, Harry had asked if he was even allowed to be playing by the river, so rich and impressive were his clothes. The boy had scoffed and declared himself a Malfoy, and therefore at liberty to do and say as he pleased.

It had taken many years for Harry to ask his friend why he had wanted to secure their acquaintance, when their difference in class and standing were quite clear. Harry may have been the son of a gentleman, and his uncle and cousin gentlemen too, but he hardly dared presume an orphan in his position could entitle himself such.

Draco, or Mr Malfoy as he had grown into, scoffed when this question was finally posed, and said their wealth mattered little – they were kindred spirits. Harry had teased that was easy for him to declare, as he had all the fortune.

Mr and Mrs Malfoy were not stringent with their wealth however, resulting in much of Harry's later childhood being spent under their roof rather than his own, something his own kin were more than happy to embrace. But even then, Harry's misfortune did not leave him be for long.

As they grew into men approaching their twenties, Draco's disposition soured, and his brotherly tendencies towards Harry grew harsh and taunting, much to Harry's dismay. Draco was to attend Cambridge and study as his father had, at which point the boys parted ways on bitter words that Harry was at a loss to explain. It was as if overnight his dear friend had chosen to abandon him, to lead a life of spite purely because he was able to do so.

Harry had other friends in the social circle of the town, so he was not in the technical sense alone, but none the less he felt utterly alone now he was bereft of his closest confident, and struggled to find purpose to his day for many months.

Help was at hand though some months later, when an old friend of his father's – and coincidently a cousin of the Black family – came by the town with the militia. Lieutenant Sirius Black and his fellow officers were in need of rest and entertainment through the winter, something the folks of Little Whinging were more than happy to accommodate them with. The young ladies were most enamoured with the officers, so handsome in their red uniforms, however Harry had a very different reaction to their presence in their home. He made several firm friends amongst the younger men, feeling connected in a way he had not since Draco's departure, and when they upped and departed to Brighton for the summer Harry was happy to have been taken on as one of their own, having shown great skill at horsemanship and handling a riffle.

He thought often of Draco as the years passed, and was utterly delighted one day to receive a very heartfelt letter from his old friend, expressing his most sincere apologies for his past behaviour. Harry replied immediately, and once more the relationship was struck, with letters arriving back and forth as fast as the horses could carry them.

The Malfoys divided their time between Surrey, and their main estate in Wiltshire. The next time Harry's leave of duty coincided with their being in Little Whinging, Harry made sure to travel back and take up residence back in the house he had grown up in.

Mr and Mrs Dursley preferred to spend their months in the warmer climates of France, and now rarely called on Privet House, leaving Harry to claim it as his own, much to his delight. And so over the summer of his twenty fifth year, Harry and Draco each rediscovered the easy company of the other – the love of the same literature, the long rides through the Black estates, the weeks where they would pay social visits to friends and family across the country as a pair. It was a happiness Harry had never known, never dared hope for, a gentle and yet exciting friendship that squeezed his heart in delight.

But Harry should have been wary in his joy, knowing as he did that misfortune was incapable of leaving him be for long.