Inspired by this video on youtube: /watch?v=qR3rK0kZFkg (Jessica's Daily Affirmation). The story will make a tad more sense if you watch it ;-) Thanks, as always, to hydromiss for the help in working through the initial story idea.

Before he turned eleven, and actually met Harry Potter, Draco's morning pep talks centered on how awesome his hair was, and how much he loved his life, and how he and Potter would be best friends because they had so much in common, and were both so awesome.

At first, they drove Lucius nearly to distraction. Three (and four, and five)-year-old Draco's exuberant voice carried remarkably well from his bathroom into the parlor where Lucius and Narcissa had morning tea. Lucius would do everything he could to block out the cheerful exclamations. He was, like Draco, prone to dramatics in private, and spent many a morning pulling on his hair, rolling his eyes, even sticking his fingers in his ears and humming the latest Celestina Warbeck single.

Narcissa would calmly continue eating her scone and sipping at her tea. The moment Lucius' fingers cautiously lowered from his ears, she would say, "this is all your fault, you know. Putting those silly notions in his head."

Lucius would bluster and huff. "I have no idea what - "

Narcissa would raise a hand to stop him. "Lucius. Darling. This is precisely what I warned you would happen, when you started filling his head with your Noble Malfoy nonsense. And all those stories of the Potter boy…"

Lucius would sink lower in his chair. "I wasn't… they weren't…"

Narcissa would raise an elegant brow. "Precisely. You've brought it on yourself."

Lucius would drop his head into his hands, massaging his temples, and wonder if it was too late to go back to bed and start the day over.

By the time Draco headed off to Hogwarts, Lucius had learned to let Draco's morning pep talks wash over him without penetrating the fog he nursed until Draco breezed in for tea, pep talk finally complete. Only then would Lucius signal the house-elves to bring him his tea, and let the caffeine jolt his brain into full awareness.

And then came the first morning Draco was home after Potter refused Draco's hand in friendship. That morning Lucius learned to dread Draco's pep talks even more. Because now they began with the usual emphatic affirmations of Draco's awesome qualities, followed by lengthy descriptions of Potter's shortcomings and Draco's luck at not befriending him, and ended with all the ways Draco would finally show Potter up, thus winning his envy and admiration.

That first morning, the unexpected words jarred Lucius into awareness too early. He dropped his head to the table surface and banged it repeatedly during Draco's speech. Narcissa pursed her lips and held her teacup out of harms way, lest the tea slosh over the brim and stain the immaculate snow-white table linens.

After that morning, Lucius took tea alone in his study at the opposite end of the Manor whenever Draco was home. He also put up silencing spells and didn't take them down until the House-elves reported that Draco had joined Narcissa in the parlor.

Pansy Parkinson stood in the Slytherin common room, bag slung over one arm, hands planted firmly on her hips, exasperated scowl on her face as she watched Blaise thump down the stairs from the boys' dormitory. "Finally!" she huffed. "I've been ready for ages. Where's Draco? We're going to miss breakfast!"

Blaise rolled his eyes and jabbed his thumb back over his shoulder, indicating the vague direction of the dormitory he'd just left. "In the bathroom. Giving himself his daily pep talk."

Pansy stared at him. "What, still? For the love of – Whatever. I don't have time for this. I need to eat before class. Tell Draco – "

Blaise slipped his arm through hers, steering her toward the door. "Tell him yourself, later. If I hear another word about how much he loves his hair, or how much better he is than Potter…"

Draco caught up to them outside of Potions, stomping down the hall like a thundercloud, Crabbe and Goyle trailing miserably in his wake, trying to stuff as much of the food they carried into their mouths as they could before Snape made them throw it out. "Thanks ever so for leaving me behind this morning," Draco said coldly.

Blaise sighed; Pansy looked suitably chastened. "But, Draco," she whined, "we'd already missed breakfast two days in a row – I was so hungry I couldn't think straight."

"Whatever, Parkinson. You can tell everyone it's your fault tomorrow morning, when no one gets breakfast." Draco swept regally into the classroom. Crabbe and Goyle paused at the door, staring morosely at the unfinished breakfast in their hands. Draco motioned them impatiently to his side, and they glumly dumped the food into the trash bin and trailed after him.

Blaise sighed again. "This has got to stop."

The next morning, despite Blaise's vehement protests, Draco succeeded in keeping the entirety of Slytherin House in their common room until after the first bell sounded. He called it a "pep rally," but the only person that seemed to have any pep at all, by the time he finally allowed them to leave, was Draco himself.

When he sauntered into first period Potions, that morning, trailed by a subdued bunch of hungry Slytherins, Snape paused in the middle of berating Longbottom to stare. After a moment of strained silence, during which the Slytherins sank into their seats – all except for Draco, who sat as if he thought Snape ought to be grateful for his presence – Snape spun to confront Draco, Longbottom forgotten.

"And just what was so earth-shatteringly important that it required every last one of you to be late?"

Every Slytherin but Draco pointed accusing fingers at Draco and said in unison, "Potter's stupid face and Potter's stupid messy hair."

Snape stared, at a loss for words for the second time that morning. Finally he recovered and turned away, rolling his eyes. "Fifty points from Slytherin, for bad taste and mass tardiness. Detention tonight, Mr. Malfoy." He paused. "Fifteen points from Gryffindor, and detention for you, too, Mr. Potter."

Harry spluttered. "But… but… I didn't do anything!"

Snape, waving a lazy hand at the Slytherins, drawled, "Didn't do anything? Mr. Potter. Your hair just made my entire house late for Potions."

He turned back to the board, dismissing the matter, and Harry fumed silently. Draco beamed

The pep talks stopped sometime during his sixth year, as Draco slowly fell apart under the pressure of his impossible task and the Dark Lord's threats. His friends noticed – everyone noticed – but he wouldn't let anyone in. He became cold, withdrawn, and brittle. Seventh year Draco gave up hope of getting out of the situation. Harry Potter was off doing god-knows-what. Draco knew only that he was working to kill Voldemort. Deep inside, he rooted for Harry, wishing with all he had that Harry would kill the menace and give them all back their lives. Draco knew that, as it stood, he was a dead man walking. He played along, focus narrowing to surviving each day.

After the war, the Malfoys bought their way out of Azkaban and slowly rose in power once more. One morning, as Lucius and Narcissa were having their morning tea, Lucius froze with his teacup halfway to his lips. He listened intently for a second, and then gasped as the familiar words filtering in from the direction of Draco's rooms grew louder, mingling with the hearty laugh of someone who sounded a lot like…

"Is that…?"

Narcissa glanced at him over the rim of her teacup, the corners of her eyes crinkling in mirth. "I believe Mr. Potter paid our son a visit yesterday to return his wand."

Lucius stared openmouthed for nearly two minutes, then closed his eyes in defeat and dropped his head to the table with an audible thunk. "You'll break the news to the Greengrass girl and her family?"

Narcissa allowed the corner of her mouth to lift minutely, the closest she ever came to a smirk. "I already have."

Lucius stared morosely at the dregs of his tea. He had a feeling he would need more fortification than that, this morning. Perhaps now was the time to switch to coffee. Draco's laughter rang out, then, twining around and harmonizing with Harry Potter's deeper chuckles. Lucius smiled involuntarily, thinking of the last time he'd heard that laugh, so many years ago that it felt like another lifetime. His smile turned brittle, cracked and fell away. He snapped his fingers, calling one of the house-elves. "Bring me a firewhisky. A large one. No, wait." He listened intently for a minute, color rising to his pale cheeks. "Better bring the whole bottle."

Narcissa raised one delicate eyebrow in a silent chastisement, but Lucius didn't care. He knocked back the first glassful just as Draco slipped into the room, shyly dragging an uncharacteristically nervous Harry Potter with him. Lucius pasted on a smooth, pleasant mask for the introductions, privately resolving to floo his suppliers as soon as he could escape and lay in an ungodly amount of firewhisky. The strongest he could get his hands on. If he were going to survive regular morning teas with Harry Potter, he would need it.

~The End~