A/N: Whoo! This is Queenie and I's first co-authored fic. Well..it's mine, anyway. Hehe. So there might actually be a completed story in my account. Gasp!

QueenGen's comments: So you are daring to read our story? HA! and again HA!...I don't know why I'm laughing actually. It's really kind of sort of awesome, except take out the kind of sort of. Sorry, I'm on a bit of a caffeine high...um...Review and tell us you like it!

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According to his own self-analysis, Harry had never really had a chance to be a kid. He was always so busy trying to stay alive and keep his head in his uncle's house he didn't have a chance to nurture the child within.

So he felt justified when he started dancing and cheering like a crazy person after defeating the Dark Lord. Because, in all honesty, that was what ended the war. No, not Volde-whatever his name is' demise. Harry's very loud and very childish cheering. It was more like a victory dance, complete with 'in your face!' and 'oh, bloody hell yeah! I fucking owned your ass, you snake-licking son of a bitch!'. The momentary distraction gave the Order members and others on the side of the Light the perfect opportunity to stun or bind the remaining Death Eaters and triumph over Darth Vader! Er…Sauron! Nope – right! The Dark Lord Voldemort.

He had withstood all the Prophet questions and the countless reporters and each one said he was 'a very mature young man who had kept amazingly calm through the whole ordeal.' Little did they know that after Harry had gone back to Grimmauld place (which he had every intention of claiming after his birthday the next day), he gave himself the big hug no one was around to give and fell asleep staring at the wall, the realization of what he had just accomplished hitting him dead in the face.

The next day went as planned. Harry had returned to his aunt and uncle's, who greeted him with a sneer, but actually managed to smile when he told them it was only for a few more days. At least until school started. Then he would be leaving for good.

Later that night while he was quietly angsting about what he was going to do with his life, sometime roughly around 1am (merely because he wasn't born at midnight!) his hands began to glow. For some reason he wasn't all that alarmed. After the past seven years of various strange things happening to him, glowing skin wasn't all that unusual. But what he did find strange was the fact that his skin was growing paler. It wasn't just glowing, it was becoming almost translucent. He fruitlessly made an attempt at brushing away the pale color from his hands and, after a second or two, wondered why he was trying to brush away something that was quickly becoming part of the rest of his body.

The once-blurry shadows on the walls began to clear and sharpen. He blinked. Still clear. He blinked again, this time keeping his eyes closed for a longer period of time, just to be sure. When he opened them again, his skin was still glowing. But this time he could actually see his fingers, not just stubby outlines… Sweet Merlin! He had been wondering when things were going to start hurting and the growth and slendering of his short thick fingers seemed to be the trigger.

Living in the cupboard most of his life had stunted his growth just a tad from lack of room to stretch. So whatever was happening to him made up for lost time and muscle and he arched his back in pain, biting his lip to hold back any noise. As quickly as it had started, it was over and Harry stretched a bit, trying to soothe stiff muscles. He was a bit more built, he realized as he rubbed his arm. And damnit, he was still glowing! Though…now it was less glowing and more… iridescent? 'Great, I glow in the dark.'

Harry sat up and blinked some more to get used to his new and improved eyesight. That's when he noticed his hair was in the way. He swore and swung his legs over the side of the bed and tiptoed his way into the bathroom. In the faint glow of the streetlights Harry was able to make out smooth unblemished porcelin skin and was not pleased to discover his hair was just a bit past his shoulder blades. Great. Like he didn't have enough problems with his hair already! Maybe he'd cut it in the morning…

With a sigh the now adult wizard returned to his bed where a letter with the same radiance as his skin rested on his pillow. Harry opened the blank envelope and began to scan the forest green writing – 'Like the color my eyes are now,' he thought absently -, his eyes growing wide at what was inside. The first paragraph shocked him completely to the core.

"Dearest Harry,

Since you are holding this letter it is quite obvious you have Awakened, just like James said you would. Congratulations. But if you have this letter, it also means he is…no longer with you. Let me be the first to tell you what you are. You are a Star, Harry. A being of Celeste, City of the Gods. Or what you might call Heaven. …Possibly. In my opinion it's not the same at all.

Now, read closely Harry and pay attention. The rest of this letter will tell you all you need to know…"

Naturally, he chose that precise moment to slip into unconsciousness, utterly overwhelmed.

He never did finish that letter.

He had made it onto the train unseen with no problem. A simple cloak covered his newfound… 'prettiness'. But he knew that as soon as he entered the Great Hall there would be problems, but he was hungry, damnit and no stares or profound silences were going to change that.

And, just as he suspected, as soon as Harry had walked into the Great Hall, he was greeted by a very rushed silence, like if a television were turned on full blast then put on mute. Every head turned and gawked at the poor boy like he were some sort of interesting specimen of hippogriff.

Amongst the silent crowd was one boy who had not been prepared for such a shocking feeling of loyalty and respect come from him, especially towards Potter. However, even thinking the word 'Potter' made him feel filthy and like a traitor to a greater being and immediately began thinking him as a Lord. Lord Harry! Oh why, such a wornderful man as he is, should he even stand to grace a presence of one who so lowly as himself?

His mind screamed at him that something was wrong, that Harry was still that goodie-goodie Potter and nothing had changed. However, the rest of him quivered at the thought of such disrespect to his Lord. Trembling, Draco stood up, gritting his teeth so he would not embarrass himself in front of the rest of the Great Hall. He had to leave before he could say something he didn't really mean! Harry was still standing in front of the door, making the urge more and more difficult to avoid him. When he reached Harry, the silence was deafening to the ear and the air was far tighter than it should feel in such a large hall.

"Malfoy," Harry said to him with a nod. Draco wanted to reach deep inside his own chest, take out his heart and stun it so it would stop beating so fast. Harry was talking to him! Wait, why did he care?! Why the hell was he feeling so...so modest towards him?! To Potter, of all people!

Noticing he still hadn't moved he still averted his eyes from Harry, but made a murmuring sound that neither Harry or even he could hear.

"Excuse me?" Harry asked, sounding confused. Draco looked up at him and tried to move past him but his body might as well been petrified. His face must have looked odd since Harry seemed practically terrified by Draco's behavior though Draco could say the same for himself.

He took a deep breath and through slightly parted lips asked him, politely, to move from the door. When Harry obliged, Draco immediately relaxed at this. Bad idea? Yes, it was a very bad idea. Since he let his guard down, his mind no longer reserved these...feelings that were going on. "Thank you, my lord," he said and the silence turned to a collective gasp as everyone looked at him in shock. Draco realized this and before it could get worse, ran out.

How in the hell did he know that something weird was going to happen? His cheeks burning, Harry swiftly turned and fled the Great Hall, his damnable long hair flying behind him and curious murmurs starting up around the house tables. The first to shake themselves from their spell was Ron. Though Hermione would be the first to suggest that they go after Harry, sadly enough Hermione was one of the first to be killed. Her killer was none other than Peter Pettigrew.

And Ron was the next to fire the killing curse immediately after that.

So, with his newfound maturity, Ron decided to follow the young man and ran out of the Great Hall.

Meanwhile, Harry was standing in front of the portrait of the Fat Lady, ready to start crying in humiliation. Bad news: He had forgotten the password. Actually, he didn't even know it. Worse news: The Fat Lady was too busy being flustered and fanning herself with giddiness to even hint at the password. The green-eyed savior turned to the wall and began to hit his head against it, developing a nice purple bruise on his forehead.

"The password's 'Caboose'." Harry grinned at the password and turned around to face his best friend.

"Alright there, Ron?"

"I'm just fine Harry." Ron told the Fat Lady the password and with one last titter, the portrait opened.

"Would you care to tell me what the hell that was?" Ron asked as they climbed through the portrait hole.

"It's…complicated. There're some bits I don't even know about, like that…staring thing in the Great Hall. Let's go to the dorm, this isn't something you can say in the common room. Someone might hear and then where would we be?"

"Of course, my Lord."

"RON!" Harry frowned.

"Sorry, mate." The readhead shook himself from his stupor and followed Harry up the staircase to the boy's dormitories.

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Draco hurried out of the Great Hall at a pace that he didn't use too often. Of course, with his normal appearance of being very proper and the like, his feet were dashing every which where as he speedily turned corners. He didn't know exactly why he was running, for all he was running from was Potter. What he didn't understand was why he felt that way towards the raven haired prick. His thoughts were interrupted when he felt his body fall to the ground at immediate contact.

He looked up to see a very annoyed, though as always alarmingly stunning, Blaise Zabini gazing down at him. Draco seethed and stood up; distracted momentarily by the fact that he got pushed down but the other seemed supported enough that he wouldn't have to. Of course, this was only because of the fact he was distracted! Why was he distracted again? Oh right, Potter, that low down jerk who made a mockery of him!

Once again, he was interrupted by a hand waving up and down in front of his face. He shook his head and looked at the hand then at the owner, which was once again Blaise. "Yes?" he asked, sounding a bit aggravated, raising a hand to stop the rather pushy one in his face.

"Sorry, you zoned out, and I always wanted to do that," Blaise replied. Draco raised an eyebrow but said nothing, deciding not to even try to wonder why Blaise would want to do something so stupid, after all, stupid and Blaise went hand in hand.

"Where are you off to?" Draco asked.

"The library," was the reply. "Would you like to join me?"

Draco nodded in the affirmative and he brushed himself off of he traces of dirt from the ungraceful fall. Opening the doors to the library, the two entered the large, book-filled room in silence and chose a table.

"So what's got you all in a twist?" Blaise asked reclining back. Draco sneered.

"Isn't there a reason why you are here? You were going here after all, I'm sure that's more important." Draco didn't actually want to talk about what had troubled him so much for it was far too embarrassing.

"Nope," replied the dark haired teen. "I'm only here to listen to you speak. So speak."

Draco refused to answer him and folded his arms in defiance. "Fine," Blaise shrugged, still in his reclined position. "Did you hear about Pot-face?" he asked recklessly and almost clueless. Draco shook his head, though at the thought of what he had done in the Great Hall hoped he would never have to see Harry again.

"Well apparently he got this…I think it's called an Awakening from some…well some thing that he is. Whatever, he is, he isn't human anyway. I think it's called…a Star," Blaise said in a rambling manner. Draco gaped at him confused. "Same here," Blaise chuckled.

Draco rolled his eyes. "So what are they going to do about it?" he asked.

"The Headmistress is going to give us each a potion that contains an anti-whatever he has. It will bring it all back to normal. No worries, I heard everyone was ready to bow to him as soon as he walked into the door!" Blaise began laughing very hard. "Imagine if some bozo actually called him something like? "Oh thank you my lord for gracing my presence!"" he said, over dramatizing the statement. Draco hid his face a little and cleared his throat to loose the embarrassment inflicted blush.

"Well if we're not going to talk about anything other than stupid Potter, I'd rather just go to our common room," he said, hoping this would get him off the topic. Blaise gave a non-committed shrug. "Alright," he said, getting up.

As they walked through the long hallways of Hogwarts, Draco decided to make up some casual chit chat. "So…what have you been up too?" he asked, Blaise. His first response was a very wide, almost evil, smirk.

"Russell Smith," Blaise replied almost dreamily. Draco rolled his eyes.

"Have you two done it yet?" he asked.

"Oh about five times since Sunday, we met before we came on the train," Blaise explained. At Draco's look he stopped. "This time it's for real, I love this guy!" he said in his defense.

Draco shook his head. "Alright," he said, sounding indifferent. He knew the next day it would be someone else. It was a week streak with every guy Blaise had around; he'd have as much sex as he could with said piece of meat then onto the next soul. Blaise had tried to get Draco to be one of his fuck buddies. However, Draco never found that to be something he wanted to do. After all, he didn't even like boys like that...well alright yes he did, but he was still keeping it secret. Not even Blaise knew, and he hoped no one would ever find out.

By then they had reached the common room and they stood at the entrance. A few people waved for Blaise to go over to where Draco knew he was not invited, not that he cared in the slightest. They waved each other off and Draco went down the hall to his dorm room. He opened the door and finding no one else in there, sat on his bed and turned the light on. He cracked open a book and quickly began to finish up his potions essay, for to face a dragon who is protective of their egg sounded like a day trip compared to Snape's wrath.