Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter so please don't sue me.
A/N: I know, I know. Another story, Galadriell? I just can't stop, that's all. I'll 'finish' this one. I swear(ish). A million thanks to InsaneOrange for beta! You guys have no idea how badly I needed her help with this one :D
About the story
As always with my stories, there will be some explicit scenes and swearing. If there are some extra warnings, I will post them in the author's note at the top of the chapter so make sure you read those in case I write something to could possibly offend you. There will be some non-con but nothing too graphic (and hopefully nothing too shocking). This is a non-magic and OOC piece with a lot of period elements. I will try and update as often as possible but school starts up again soon so maybe one chapter a week? We'll see how far that goes ;D
And so we begin!
Draco Malfoy stepped out of the carriage, swiping the beads of sweat off his neck. His skin crawled from the heat and the toll of his long journey.
Now that he was of age and without purpose, he found no reason to not visit his father, whom he had seen perhaps three times per year for all of his childhood. Most people spoke nothing but praises of Lucius. Draco knew of him as a rich lord of the land and a successful businessman with a formidable reputation, nothing more. It was time to learn his father's trade and become heir.
Having lived in Paris for nearly all his life, the unsophisticated streets of London were discouraging to say the least. But he must learn to call it home now. He absently gestured to his servants to follow him with his luggage. His heart thrilled at the sight of the majestic mansion spanning across a piece of land far larger than many across the country. His land.
The door was opened by a prim butler who nodded at Draco and let him in. "Master Lucius is waiting for you in the study. It is up the stairs and the first door to the right."
Draco murmured an appropriate response as he took in the marble foyer with the crystal chandelier and ostentatious paintings. He walked up the stairs slowly, marveling the décor with the eye of an artist. Exquisite. Deep oak banisters complimented the polished stone he stepped on. Regal blue and pearl paint adorned the walls. Statues of stone and clay stood in alcoves, always a treasure to find.
He knocked on the heavily worked door twice. "Come in," a muffled voice sounded. Draco walked in with a straight back and a sure stance.
Lucius Malfoy stood up to meet his son. Dressed in the finest grey suit and wearing the whitest cravat, the man was power personified. His long and tamed hair was tied at the back by a length of black ribbon and he stood with a hand draped over an ebony staff that was decorated with the silver head of a striking snake – foreboding and dominant. His expression was that of casual indifference, as though nothing could and would faze him. "Draco," he greeted, holding out his hand.
"Sir," Draco said, meeting his father's hand for a shake. "I trust you are well." This was the man he longed to be.
"As well as can be," Lucius answered. "And you?"
"As well as can be," Draco mirrored, smiling faintly.
"I hope you do not mind the early supper. I am sure you are famished," Lucius said, inviting his son to sit down at the table that had a lavish dinner laid out for the men. Only the finest cutlery and china would do at the manor, no less.
"You know me too well," Draco smiled. "I can never say no to food."
"Much like your mother in that sense," Lucius muttered, jibing at Narcissa without being too forward.
Draco shook his head, sighing. His parents had the most spectacular arguments… "She is fine, Father," he answered the unasked question.
"I know," Lucius nodded. "She has raised you well."
"She has."
Lucius poured a glass of sweet wine for Draco, handing him the crystal. "Shall we toast to Narcissa, then?" he asked.
"I don't see why not," Draco agreed, clinking his glass to his father's. After a sip, they started their luscious meal of meat and bread.
"I have heard nothing but good news from your tutors," Lucius said in approval.
"They fawn over me." Draco rolled his eyes in exasperation. "It is no surprise you hear nothing else."
"Then you sweet talk them into it?"
"I suppose," Draco shrugged. "Easily manipulated, their kind. Teachers, I mean. Give them what they want, they see nothing but good in you."
"As opposed to…"
"As opposed to a woman. Give her what she wants, she sees nothing but faults in you."
Lucius laughed in response, shaking his head at his son. "Well said," he noted.
But before Draco could speak further, a loud commotion just outside the room snagged his attention. The door swung open forcefully and banged against the wall.
His stomach clenched.
Was everything in this manor as beautiful as the heavens above?
With mussed black hair and red-stained cheeks, the man who strode in was perfection. His jaw was clenched in the most adamant manner of anger and frustration. His emerald eyes pierced as a sword would as it plunged straight through Draco's heart. Slight as he may be, he seemed fit to be a king. He planted himself in front of the table with his stern glare fixed on Lucius.
"Mr. Mundungus is quite close to having his nose hacked off by me. How dare he think he can fool me with his abhorring contracts? Why must you insist on conducting business with that man? He is a thief and a fool!"
Lucius arched a brow. "This is Draco," he introduced, gesturing at his ignored son who was gazing up at the angered man with amazement and infatuation. "Draco, this is my apprentice, Mr. Harry Potter."
"This is no time for supper!" Harry exclaimed, casting a wayward glance at Draco. Then he whipped his eyes back at young Malfoy with an expression of disbelief.
"Pleasure," Draco said, getting up on his feet as was customary.
Harry looked back at Lucius in confusion. "I… he… He looks like you."
"He is my son," Lucius repeated deliberately.
Draco fidgeted out of nervousness when those sharp and bewitching emerald eyes moved back to inspect him.
"Hmm."
Draco was devastated!
He was truly devastated by the bored murmur that the man responded with.
He had been discarded as though he were an undesirable subject or a worthless painting or a dull novella.
"I must speak to you afterwards," Harry told Lucius. "Else I will need to go search for my dagger. And my prize will be Mundungus' nose!" Then he strode away, closing the door behind him none too gently.
The Malfoys were left in sudden silence.
Lucius gestured for Draco to sit down once again and the young man complied quickly. Soon, the room was filled with the sound of cutlery on plate and sips of wine. Lucius seemed to be in deep thought while Draco…
He clicked his tongue and set the knife and fork down on the plate before calmly asking, "What is wrong with that man?" He had to know everything about Mr. Potter as soon as possible.
Lucius sighed. "I have coddled him too much," he muttered.
"Ah, yes… Pity."
Draco could see the entire expanse of the entry grounds from his window. He hadn't noticed until muffled sounds echoed into his room. He glanced across from his desk, tilting his head to the side while trying to make out the speech. When it became apparent that he wouldn't be able to from where he was seated, he made his way to the drawn window and peered out from behind the panes of glass.
Mr. Potter seemed to be the one creating the racket.
Draco smiled absently and sat down on the window ledge to watch the proceedings.
From what he could tell, the man was dressing down the servants with one hand behind his back and the other hand up with his finger wagging in admonishment. Five maids and footmen stood in a straight line, heads bowed as they took the scolding without a sound. Potter was pacing from one end to the other, perhaps liking the sound of his voice a bit too much.
Draco leaned his head against the glass, wishing he could hear this chatter that was no doubt entertaining.
With a final and sharp pronouncement, Potter seemingly waved them off with a flippant gesture of his hand.
Out of the corner of his eye, Draco caught movement from the hedges. He squinted down and made out the crowns of three small red heads. Snaking between them was a garden hose. His brow arching in wonder, he watched as the one in front made a signal to his partners in crime. Then sounded a shrill war cry before they sprang out from behind the shrubs and started spraying water every which way, but attempting to aim it at Potter.
The servants scattered simultaneously, loud shrieks filtering through the glass. The men had the audacity to point at a soaking Harry Potter and laugh while the women tried to cover up their mirth behind their hands. Meanwhile, even though Mr. Potter was in the process of getting drenched, he was not someone who would go down quietly. He grabbed the first child he could get his hands on and picked him up, using him as a shield to ward off the wet onslaught. The poor boy sputtered and squirmed in Harry's arms while getting soaked to the bone. The other two decided it was time to run and took off, leaving their companion behind.
Draco had been privy to all this and he barely tried to stifle his delight. He watched Potter turn the boy around, who couldn't possibly be older then eight, so they faced each other. He watched the boy wrap his arms around Harry's neck and hug him tight. And he watched Harry scowl at the laughing servants, which only seemed to make them laugh even harder.
Draco simply had to get acquainted with this strange character.
By the time he had made his way down the stairs, he could hear the bustling commotion in the grand foyer as everyone started filing in, still chuckling from the incident.
"It was not funny," Draco heard Harry grumble.
"It most certainly was, sir," came an answer.
"Then I'd like to see you on the receiving end," Harry huffed.
"No, thank you."
And everything came to an abrupt stop as a dozen eyes suddenly caught sight of Draco. The color left everyone's faces, as did their grins. It was rather staggering to watch. Draco pursed his lips and that seemed to prompt everyone to scatter. Three seconds later, Potter was the only one left.
They stared at each other and Draco was trying to read Mr. Potter. Even while wearing a drenched suit and appearing as would a drowned cat, he couldn't help thinking about how endearing the man looked. Complete with a displeased scowl, he seemed to be waiting for Draco to comment.
"Rather wet, aren't you?"
Harry stomped up the steps as his scowl deepened. "Pardon," he growled, sidling past Draco.
Draco caught him by the wrist.
Harry froze, glancing back at Draco with wide, disbelieving eyes. "What?" he snapped.
"I am your Lord as well," Draco murmured, his intent to spite quite obvious by the snide tone of voice. "Or have you forgotten, Mr. Potter?"
The change in Harry was staggering. His frown faded to make room for something… unrecognizable.
And then came a faint smile that caused Draco to let go of the wet hand in surprise.
"Indeed," Harry seceded with a bow of his head. "My Lord. Pardon my impudence."
"Hmm."
"And pardon the servants."
"Very well."
Harry held Draco's gaze for a moment longer before walking up the staircase while swiping the water off of his face and hair. Draco watched as he leaned against the banister and wiped his damp palm over his trousers. Quite a strange man, this Harry Potter.
"Who is Potter?" Draco asked his father over evening tea.
"Harry Potter?" Lucius clarified, to which Draco nodded. "He is nobody, really. A ruffian from long ago."
"Ruffian?" Draco exclaimed. "Excuse me?"
"He used to do odds and ends around the grounds," Lucius explained.
"He is a hired hand?" Draco couldn't believe it. A hired hand had scorned him as though he were an unintelligible fool?
"Lower still," Lucius smirked, as though what he was telling Draco was a personal achievement of sorts. "Absolutely crude."
"Goodness! You raised him this way?"
"Of course." Lucius nodded. "I made him my apprentice once I started seeing potential. He is a hard worker. Do not let his exterior fool you."
"What do you mean?" Draco asked, sitting forward.
"He does everything in his power to get what he wants. And that includes his disposition. I have seen him at his worst," Lucius said, now appearing distant as though he were lost in those memories. "And I have seen him at his best." He took a sip of his tea and honed in on his son. "What would you like to know?"
Draco's mind was teeming with questions, but he wondered if it would be more fun to ask the subject himself. "I think I would rather find out more about Mr. Potter in my own time, Father," he said with a gracious smile.
"And I wish you luck," Lucius scoffed.
After a fortnight of stay, Draco was starting to notice patterns in the daily life at Malfoy Manor. There seemed to be two phases and it revolved around the presence of the master of the house, Lucius. When he was present, the manor was run with precision and anticipation, as though everyone was yearning to please this man. There would be absolutely no horseplay or unnecessary chatter of any kind. The bustle would be strictly restrained and that included everyone from the kitchen staff to the butlers. Punctuality was a must, as was prompt service.
But when Lucius was away, the atmosphere would relax to the point where Draco could feel the tension abetting. There would be less pressure to set everything perfectly. He would catch soft patter of feet and laughter down the numerous halls. There would be food of the kind he had never tried before, flavors that burst in his mouth and presentation that dazzled his eyes. Music would sound from rooms that were being cleaned by the maids.
Night and day.
Apparently Draco's presence was not a factor in the way the household was run. Indeed, whenever the 'young' Master entered the room, the servants straightened up and stopped their talks. But he did not hold the same power over the staff as his father.
Then there was Harry James Potter. He seemed to be the only one allowed to behave obstinately to Lucius. Whether Lucius was at home or away, Mr. Potter would stay the same way.
This mysterious man captured Draco's young and romantic mind.
Dressed in the finest and most modern suits, he could be everywhere and nowhere at once. He showed as much respect to the servants as he did to Lucius, keeping his slightly obnoxious air around him at all times. He carried himself with poise and grace. If Lucius hadn't mentioned it, Draco would have never guessed that Potter was a poor, little orphan boy from the streets. He supposed he needed to give credit where it was due. His father had the magic touch and that was no news. The Malfoy wealth had grown tenfold because of Lucius and his manipulative nature that worked incredibly well with the economic market. Harry seemed to be no stranger to that fact.
Draco could see his father's preaching in Mr. Potter's words and actions. Bold and aggressive, Harry had the confidence of a successful upper-class gentleman. He was very much unlike Draco who had the utopian and ruminative mind of a Parisian painter whose attention has been garnered by a far-away beauty.
He needed to start painting soon for he had found an exquisite muse.
Harry glanced up from his writing when a short rap on the door interrupted his concentration. He found himself looking up at Draco who was standing at the door with a slight smile. "My Lord," he murmured, getting up. "Did you need anything?"
"Hmm," Draco murmured, flicking his eyes around the study. It seemed to be Harry's personal library, strewn with books and papers. "Perhaps your company?"
Harry tilted his head in contemplation, scrutinizing Draco's smile. "I do not believe my Lord realizes the consequences of that demand," he said.
"I will take my chances," Draco laughed. "Dine with me? I am not used to eating alone."
"And yet you have been alone for over a fortnight."
Draco merely shrugged. Indeed, he did enjoy time alone to contemplate his thoughts, but this much time alone couldn't be good for those thoughts or his mind. "Shall we?" he asked.
"Certainly," Harry accepted, haphazardly shuffling his creased papers together and closing the ledger before getting up. "You simply must excuse my untidiness, my Lord. I work well this way."
"I hadn't even noticed," Draco lied with charm, gesturing for Harry to lead the way.
"We have not had the pleasure of making acquaintances," Harry said, walking briskly as he always did. He had purpose in each stride.
"It is never too late to make acquaintances, Mr. Potter."
"Very well. How has your stay been?"
"Wonderful. Different," Draco answered.
"My French vernacular is sadly limited to bonjour."
"As is mine."
Harry smiled in response, causing Draco's stomach to quiver and squeeze with pleasure. He had made Mr. Potter smile. "You have strange humor, my Lord," Harry appraised. Draco flushed with pride. They entered the dining room where one place was set. "I will let them know that I intend to dine with you." He beckoned Draco to sit down before hurrying to the kitchen.
Five minutes later, the two men were seated at the table with steaming food on their plates and shining cutlery at hand. "My father sings praises of you," Draco said before taking his first bite.
"He does?" Harry asked mildly.
"I wanted to see for myself."
Harry looked up at Draco, his dazzling emerald eyes boring through Draco, as though trying to examine his thoughts. "And what do you see, my Lord?" he asked.
Draco wondered what the gaze meant and hoped to God that he was not misinterpreting. "I believe I understand why Father prefers your company," he replied after a moment of thought.
"Why is that?" Harry asked, fork dangling uselessly between his fingers.
Draco leaned back so he could observe Harry to his fullest. "Your smile is captivating," he said, knowing full well how bold that statement must sound.
Harry blinked as he took in those words, as though not quite believing his ears. Draco did not avert his eyes, however. He wanted to see how Mr. Potter would respond. Harry tilted his head when he realized that the young Lord was not about to correct himself or even pardon himself for that comment.
So he laughed in astonishment, the silver utensils clattering onto the plate when he let go of them to hide his glee behind his hands. Draco smiled at the wildly amused eyes. This man was still a child in the way he showed his enthusiasm. Hands pressed against his mouth, Mr. Potter appeared so young and naïve. It was refreshing for Draco to see.
"I am glad to see that I have not offended you," he murmured, which only caused Harry to laugh more rambunctiously.
"I-I assure you that that is not what your father sees in me," Potter answered shakily.
But it was what Draco saw in Harry. "Pity," he said, pulling his gaze down to his dinner. Yes, it was quite easy to fall in love with Mr. Potter.