Title: "Rose Tint My World"
Rating: M
Pairing: Harry Potter/Cedric Diggory
Summary: Before Hagrid can retrieve baby Harry when Voldemort attacked, a Death Eater swipes the baby and raises him in the Dark Arts. Sixteen years later, Harry Potter attends Hogwarts as the heir of Lucius Malfoy. However, things with the Boy-Who-Lived are not as they seem. He is not at Hogwarts for schooling. Instead, he is there on a mission for his father. Of course, things do not go as planned, and Harry is thrust into a war that he wants no part of. This war will threaten all he holds dear.
Warnings: Non-canon/AU, Slash (M/M pairings), Language, Violence
Disclaimer: I no own, you no sue.
Feedback: Mother's milk…but not gross.
Chapter One
In The Beginning
Godric's Hollow, just a stone's throw from Cornwall and Ottery St. Catchpole, was a small community filled to the brim with wizards. One couldn't step out their door without running into someone carrying a wand or wearing a set of fine robes that would look out of place in the London Tube. However, Godric's Hollow wasn't just a place where witches and wizards could live in harmony; it was also a place that attracted numerous Muggle families who saw the small village as the perfect place to settle down, start a family, or just spend the last precious years of their life in peace. It was the place that people like Mrs. Crowley never even thought of leaving.
Meredith Crowley was an odd bird if there ever was one. She lived alone in the house her father built over seventy-five years ago, she was about sixty some years old, and she preferred to sit on her porch and watch the rest of the neighborhood live their lives. It wasn't a very eventful existence, something she would regularly admit to, but she was content, and that was more than most could say. This was the place where Meredith grew up, married, birthed and raised her three children, and dug her roots deep. She couldn't imagine living anywhere else. And when her beloved husband, Mortimer Crowley, perished in his sleep, she resolved to remain near his grave for the rest of her life.
One day, while Mrs. Crowley pruned the small shrubs on her window sill, she happened to glance over the white fence lining her property and saw something she didn't expect to see. The cottage to the right of her own had been vacant for the past year since the Vanderhoots moved out, intending to find some place to live with a little more "oomf" to it. Godric's Hollow wasn't considered prime real estate, so the demand for the cottage wasn't what the village hoped, and the home had remained empty. However, when Meredith's eye wandered to the property, she saw a small woman with flaming red hair, a belly as big as the moon itself, and a tall, thin man on her arm, Meredith leaned so far forward in curiosity that her nose smashed against the glass. A moment later, she was out the door with one of her precious shrubs in her hands tottering across the lawn to the edge of the property line, grinning in welcome.
"Good morning!" Meredith cried out, holding out the plant like an offering. "I'm Meredith Crowley and I live next door."
The woman's eyes moved to her and Meredith was struck by two almond shaped bottle-green orbs boring into hers. For a moment, the woman looked frightened and on-guard at the same time. Her husband's –or at least that's what Meredith assumed- hand tightened on her arm and his other hand delved into his pocket. They stood poised, waiting for something.
"Welcome…to Godric's Hollow," Meredith said, noticeably less enthusiastic at the chilled welcome she received. Almost immediately, the couple softened, relaxed. The woman smiled brightly and her eyes calmed. Meredith regained her grin and handed over the plant as the red-head reached for it.
"Wow, thank you! This is a far better welcome than we expected," she exclaimed. She shifted the plant in her arms like it was something precious, and Meredith's heart warmed towards her. "I'm Lily…Dursley, and this is my husband, James." Meredith chose to ignore the hesitation over their last name. She knew they lied about it, wondered why, but promised herself to let them think they got away with it. After all, if they didn't want to tell her the truth, they certainly weren't obligated to do so.
"Well, Lily and James," Meredith tried their names on her tongue, "would you like to come in for some tea?"
Lily agreed, but James looked as if there were dozens of things he would rather be doing than spending his afternoon with an old woman and his pregnant wife.
"I would love some," Lily answered quickly. She turned towards James. "Sweetheart, why don't you go and start unpacking? You know where everything goes, don't you?" At his quick nod, Lily grinned brilliantly and stepped through the gate to the side onto Meredith's lawn. "Now, how about that tea?"
And that was how Lily and James Potter came to meet their neighbor and friend, Meredith Crowley. Over the next year, the two women became rather close. Lily and Meredith were constantly together, sharing recipes, discussing their marriages, even gossiping about crazy Anne Danover down the lane who always mumbled to herself while walking about. When Lily went into labor, she called Meredith. When she needed to know what to do about diaper rash or colic or teething, she called Meredith. To Lily, the older woman was a fount of useful information, having lived a full life already. James soon became accustomed to Meredith's presence and even began engaging her in conversation. They weren't as tightly knit as the two women, but James came to accept her and she him.
Time flashed by in the blink of an eye. Meredith knew she sounded as old as she was when she said that it felt as if life was too short, but it was the truth. One moment, you're sitting in your kitchen watching your friends' child attempt to walk, and the next moment, you're talking to them about enrolling their child in preschool.
And in the space of a few hours, good people were killed, their house decimated, and their carefully constructed family lying in ruins. For when Meredith Crowley drew back her curtains one fine August morning, she saw only smoking debris where the cottage of Lily and James Potter once stood.
The flames hissed and sputtered, reaching their fiery tendrils towards the sky. The wreckage, as it caught fire and burned, sent a huge plume of dark, constricting smoke into the air like a signal, a marker of what happened here. Somewhere, a baby wept, little fleshy arms reaching out for the parents whose bodies were eaten up by the fire.
"Lily, Lily! Go upstairs, get Harry. You can still get out!" James' voice called urgently as he removed his wand from his robes' pocket. His wife's hurried steps thundered up the stairs as the front door swung open, banging against the opposite wall. A cloaked figure with gleaming red eyes entered the cottage, wand drawn as well. Four figures followed behind him, wands at the ready.
Someone walked the site, ignoring the thick, hot air. The man, donning black robes with a bone white mask obscuring his face and his platinum hair tied back, grimaced at the scene of utter destruction. He stepped over the splintered front door.
"The great Potters, hiding here in Godric's Hollow? How predictable!" the cold voice screeched into the air, laughter dancing after. The figure pressed its wand to James' throat, trying to puncture the skin there as if it were a blade instead of basically a stick. "I'm ashamed to admit that I did not think of it sooner, but that matters not. After all, I'm here now." James fought down the bile rising in his throat, the urge to spit it into the Dark Lord's twisted and murderous expression. He had to hold him off, for just a little while longer, giving Lily time to escape with baby Harry.
"Time to die, James," Voldemort told him, almost regretfully. "I'm sorry that we couldn't spend more time together, but as you know, I've come for something very specific. Now, if you bring me your precious bouncing baby boy, we could perhaps negotiate." Voldemort chuckled darkly as he saw James' face contort with rage at the very thought of giving up his family. "Think about it; you could live a happy life with the lovely Lily. We would never bother you again, you could start another family, have more babies. Just give your son to me." The wand at his neck fell back, allowing him room to swallow.
"Go to Hell," James whispered, certain the one they called the Dark Lord heard him. James suddenly threw himself back, summoning all his strength to throw a punch across Voldemort's pointed chin. The four Death Eaters behind him swarmed around the Dark Lord, wands at the ready, blasting curses in James' direction. He dodged as many as he could, using the Shielding Charm, firing counter curses and hexes their way. Against his Auror training, it was four against one, not the best odds, and they backed him into a corner.
While James felt the fear grip his belly like a tight fist, he couldn't help but revel in the fact that with every moment the Death Eaters and the Dark Lord spent with him, the more time it gave Lily and Harry to escape and head for Headquarters.
Lucius Malfoy grimaced as he passed the body of Rosier and pressed his hand to his wrist, tracing his fingers over the wound he sustained there when trying to take James Potter. It was bad luck that the curse managed to clip past his Shield and ravage the skin. Only a quick charm had managed to staunch the blood flow, and it still left Lucius a little light headed. But he had gotten his revenge on the Auror just the same.
The Dark Lord rose from the floor, angered beyond reason with his followers seeing him in a moment of weakness. However, he pushed the powerful rage away, storing it beneath the surface until he could let it loose on the body of James Potter. He had bigger things to attend to, and a fighting Auror was the least of his worries. Voldemort retrieved his wand and began ascending the stairs. As he moved, he felt the wards around the house seep into his skin and swim around him. The Order of the Phoenix placed many charms and wards around the cottage to prevent any magical entry, including Floo and Portkey. However, seeing as they thought the Potters safe, they didn't expect their magic to work against them. Sicne the wards were still in place (and Voldemort saw no cause to remove them since they actually helped him), Lily could not Apparate or leave by any way other than Muggle.
When he reached the top, he could make out the shape of a woman at the far end of the darkened hallway. When she spotted him, she screamed, and retreated into the room, cradling her one-year-old son in her arms. But, having already scouted the home, Voldemort knew they were trapped. Nowhere else to go. He smirked beneath his hood and made his way past the different rooms to the nursery. Taking his wand, he almost lazily blew the door down and entered.
"Please, no!" Lily shrieked. "Just leave! Please, leave!"
Downstairs, Lucius glanced up, watching his master calmly go up. This distracted him and allowed James Potter's scathing curse to grace his wrist. It was a whisper against his skin, the curse mostly skidded past him, but it still burnt and festered. It felt as if a Hellhoud had bitten deep into his limb. Lucius let out a roar of pain and outrage and fired the one curse that penetrated the Shield Charm, the one thing that no one could stop: The Killing Curse.
"Avada Kedavra!" Lucius screamed, pointing his wand at the rigid and fierce body of James Potter. And, just like it had done to countless before and will undoubtedly do to countless later, the Killing Curse fulfilled its title and murdered James Potter. The man's body, now lifeless and limp, dropped to the ground without so much as a scream or grunt. The light had gone from his eyes, like being turned off. Only, this time, the light would never again be turned on.
The rush of magic through him tired Lucius. He had trouble standing tall and straight, but Malfoy pride and years of his mother and father punishing him made him push past the discomfort and exhaustion and maintain his posture. He ran a trembling hand through his hair as he gazed upon the cottage. And as he did so, he tried to comprehend what had just happened, what would happen next.
It couldn't be. It just couldn't. When one thought of Lord Voldemort, the Dark Lord, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, they thought of power. He was seeped in it, drowning in power every moment of every day. Lucius had never felt anything like it. To just be near him was to have that power wash over your skin as light as a ghost and as heavy as the waves in the sea. It was like being drunk and sober at the same time. So how could someone –or something, since the Dark Lord hardly resembled a man anymore—be defeated so carelessly? By an infant? By someone with no magical ability yet, by someone who could not even speak properly? How could the greatest wizard of all time, the darkest wizard of all time, fail in casting a curse he'd cast a thousand times?
Lucius may not understand it, but that did not make it any less true. Lord Voldemort had been killed by a rebounding curse. The Killing Curse. And for all Lucius and the rest of the world knew, he had died.
Unlike the rest of the maniacal followers allied with the Dark Lord's banner, Lucius felt a strange sense of calm rush over him. Bellatrix Lestrange joined the ranks because she loved the Dark Lord and believed with all her sick heart that he was telling the truth. Regulus Black joined because he grew up hearing about pure blood right and wanted to further his family's name. The rest of the Death Eaters joined for a variety of reasons; the chance to kill Muggles and half-breeds, the chance to gain power, the chance of having a high place in the new regime once Voldemort took over. However, none of these reasons applied to Voldemort. Lucius Malfoy's family had always been involved in the Dark Arts. His father and grandfather were considered experts on demonology and the study of spirits, how a soul becomes a spirit, and the dark paths it takes to become what most consider a demon. His great-great-grandmother experimented with their house elves, attempting to affect their souls with a few simple spells and potions. Why, Lucius did not know, but he did know that the menacing legacy had been passed down for generations until it finally came to a rest on his shoulders.
Lucius joined the ranks of the Death Eaters for one simple reason: because it was expected of him. He was more than content to stay at his manor in Wiltshire, attend Hogwarts Governor Meetings, maybe contribute or work with the Ministry. He just had a baby son a year ago, Draco, his sole living heir, and Lucius wanted to spend as much time with his child as he could. But instead, in risk of losing the respect the Malfoy family worked for some many years to accrue in Wizarding High Society, he had to make a choice.
"Lucius!" a voice cried out from beneath the rubble. Lucius glanced over a ways, glad to see someone had survived. Granted, it was only Bellatrix, but the comfort of a familiar –albeit, crazy and unpredictable- face made the events of the past hour easier to digest.
"Bellatrix, hold on," Lucius told her as he strode over and began levitating pieces of wood off her. She had been closest to the Dark Lord when the explosion wracked the house. It made sense that she would have to fight her way out from beneath shards of glass and blackened pieces of wood.
She rose to her feet and dusted off her robes. While she was the most feared Death Eater and right hand to the Dark Lord himself, she was still a woman and women tended to be extraordinarily vain.
"What happened?" she asked groggily. When the explosion hit, it threw her back and she hit her head. Otherwise, Lucius supposed, she would be livid and hell-bent on revenge.
"It seems that killing the Potter Boy…failed," Lucius explained, meanwhile hiding the fact that her beloved Dark Lord appeared to be dead.
"What?" Bellatrix shouted, her shrill voice ringing in the night air. She drew her wand, still conveniently located within her robes, and scrambled over the disturbed earth towards Lucius. The woman might be small, but she had a reputation for cruelty that made her taller than the giants of the North and more fearsome than the Dark Lord himself. One might ask why Lucius even thought this. To Lucius, the Dark Lord was very predictable. He ranged from hot to cold, but one always had to be on their guard. Bellatrix, on the other hand, could lull you into a false sense of security, poison your mind with honeyed words, and strike you like a viper in the second you have your head turned.
"Obviously," Lucius hissed, hands demonstrating the various degrees of destruction about them, "things did not go as planned."
Lily screamed when the Dark Lord approached her. Obviously, she was on her own since James seemed detained by the Death Eaters below (she absolutely refused to believe he died or could be dead). She gripped her child, who was now awake and weeping into her shoulder, hard as she reached for her wand in her pocket. She and James agreed to keep their wands on hand every moment of the day when they went into hiding, and she was glad she did so. While Lily was not an ignorant or stupid woman (she could not reasonably duel the Dark Lord), she could hold him off a few moments to figure out some way to get her son to safety.
"Oh, don't make me laugh, Mrs. Potter," the Dark Lord hissed. His voice cut like glass over her skin. "Put your wand away, give me the boy, and you can leave this house with your husband's body."
The implications of his statement hit Lily like a Stunner to the gut. She let out a wrenching sob and pointed her wand at the wizard across from her.
"Avada Kedavra!" she cast, but the Dark Lord was slightly faster.
"AVADA KEDAVRA!" he screamed, the green fire stabbing through her. Lily let out a gasp, like one coming up for air, and fell back against the crib, her arms still protectively wrapped around her baby boy. However, Lily's spell still spun through the air, flying across the distance between her body and the Dark Lord, hitting him in the shoulder and glancing off.
The Dark Lord staggered, hissing in a deep breath, his words coming out in slimy breaths. "Think…that could work, did you…foolish woman." He was in pain, that was for sure, but he wasn't going to let that stop him when he was so close to his goal. All these years, the pain of the transformations he'd gone through, the incredibly agony he wasn't sure any normal person was capable of feeling…they had all been for the realization of his goal: becoming the greatest wizard of all time. Greater than Grindelwald, than Merlin, than Albus Dumbledore.
Voldemort approached the crying babe; the Killing Curse the Dark Lord cast had no effect on him since it was not actually intended for the boy, but the mother. The wizard had a strong, almost irresistible urge to drag the process of death out as long as possible. After all, this child had caused him more trouble than he was worth, and Voldemort wanted to make him pay for it. However, he wasn't about to waste more time in this Merlin forsaken place. So, resolving to make it a quick getaway, Voldemort raised his wand and placed it against the infant's forehead.
The Killing Curse, just as it had moments before, rolled easily off his tongue like the name of a lover or best friend. Easy, comforting, simple. He certainly had enough hate and darkness within him to make it truly effective. And more than enough of that hate and darkness, in these recent months, had been rightly directed towards this boy. Harry Potter. Good riddance.
However, something was wrong. The second the curse should have entered the boy's body after leaving Voldemort's wand, the power paused as if thinking, 'Is this the right way?' Voldemort glanced at it uneasily; after all, his wand had never failed him before, and this curse had never once proved problematic.
But before he could remove the wand, get himself to safety (not that he felt the situation had become dangerous to warrant his fleeing), a flash of green burst from the end of his wand and flared around the Dark Lord. It enveloped him in a great, smoking, thick cloud that would not clear. It was the Curse, Voldemort knew, but how it did this, how the little boy was not harmed and Voldemort felt his body cracking in two…
If you asked Lucius Malfoy straight on what happened, he would not be able to tell you. He knew the big picture; the killing of the Potter boy did not go as planned (as he told his sister-in-law), the Dark Lord was nowhere to be found, and by the looks of it, something catastrophic took place to send Voldemort off into the world as little more than a vapor. Was it a rebounding curse? These things happened sometimes when similar curses headed straight for each other hit at the same time. It created a shock wave, sending both parties backwards and sometimes injured. If this circumstance affected the Dark Lord, that begged the questions: What curse did he cast that Lily Potter cast as well? Wouldn't he have just cast the Killing Curse and gotten it over with? If he did actually use the Killing Curse, then what could have rebounded against it, causing this massive damage that in turn very possibly killed the Dark Lord himself?
"How could this happen?" Bellatrix whispered, unsuccessfully covering the hurt in her voice. She seemed torn between screaming and crying. For, among all his followers, Bellatrix loved the Dark Lord most. Many a nights, she would sit beside his chair and speak with him or just lean against him for the comfort one might crave from a spouse or lover. While many (Bellatrix among them) still considered her married, she held little love for Rodolphus and he for her. It was no secret that their union had been a marriage of convenience and power play. They rarely shared a room, much less a bed.
"I don't know," Lucius told her coldly. He had no sympathy for the mad woman and he felt no pity for the Dark Lord either. While he had always appeared to be the most loyal Death Eater, this situation provided a much-desired out. He no longer had to parade around, spouting the Dark Lord's propaganda and killing in his name. While Lucius was not about to go and join the damnable Order, he had no intention of remaining a true Death Eater for much longer.
Bellatrix detected the detached tone and turned her bloodthirsty gaze to him. After all, the man she loved and adored had just died. Someone had to pay, and Lucius Malfoy seemed the likeliest candidate.
Pointing her fierce wand at his face, she growled low in her throat. The sound came out feral and wrong.
"Going to walk out on him, aren't you?" She spoke clearly, but sounded like a wild animal. "Going to leave him here to rot and die while the rest of us loyal Death Eaters try to salvage him." She did not acknowledge the Dark Lord's death, but the ghost of the realization flickered over her gaze. "You're nothing more than a deserter. And deserters are killed like the swine they are."
Lucius was not stupid. Nay, you could say a lot of things about the Head of the Malfoy family, but stupid or ignorant was not one of them. So, when he saw the look in Bellatrix's eyes, he knew he had to get out of this situation as quickly as possible and leave the maniac for the Aurors to find. Before he could utter a word in his defense, he heard something amidst the rubble.
The cries of a child were not unfamiliar to Lucius. He had a son, after all. While Narcissa and the house elves were the ones to spend the most time with little Draco, Lucius made a point to at least check up on the heir to the Malfoy name. He could not grow up without knowing his father.
Lucius followed the whimpering to a small alcove where two fallen beams created a sort of shelter around the remains of Lily Potter's body. And beside the corpse sat her baby son, Harry, looking at what used to be his mother with a troubled expression. Fat, wobbly tears dropped down his face as he sputtered, trying to utter the coveted 'mama'. Lucius felt a tiny tug in his chest; while he was a cruel man and would gladly tell you so, he did not have a heart made of ice. He was a father, and with the title came a sort of responsibility towards children, especially your own. He did not feel sorry for the babe. After all, he had come to kill him. Lucius didn't feel sorry for the infant. He would have drawn his wand right then and there, destroying the thing they came for, but something stopped him.
An idea. For a small moment, Lucius Malfoy couldn't take his eyes off the baby Harry Potter. He couldn't look away as the wheels inside his head began turning. A plan formed and the metaphorical light bulb went off. What if the boy that supposedly defeated the greatest wizard of all time became allied with the Malfoys? Their power, prestige, and social standing (coupled with the sheer relief the Wizarding world was bound to feel at the news of Voldemort's demise) would soar through the roof. But how to make it plausible? After all, the Malfoys have always been thought to be supporters, if not downright Death Eaters, of You-Know-Who. How could the Wizarding world believe that the Potters, strongly connected with both the Ministry of Magic and Albus Dumbledore, would leave their baby in the hands of the Malfoy family if anything should happen to them?
Lucius would deal with that later. In the mean time, he scooped the swaddled Harry into his arms, careful of the boy's little limbs and still-fragile head. Bellatrix watched him from afar, wonder and murder warring across her face. She looked like she was this close to marching over to Lucius and killing the baby right then and there, but, like Lucius, Bellatrix had a knack for intrigue and planning. She knew Lucius did nothing without thinking it through, and if he wasn't murdering the baby on the spot, then he had a good reason. Still, Lucius was afraid that reason would be buried by sheer rage. He had to get Harry out of there should Bellatrix find her wand hand itching.
"Tell the others, Bella," Lucius called across the clearing. "Get the word out and maybe we can avoid the Ministry fallout." She nodded, understanding him perfectly. After all, with You-Know-Who's death, the Aurors would immediately go after those they suspected of helping the Dark Lord. With Voldemort gone, so was the protection the fear of him inspired.
Lucius didn't wait to see what would happen. He merely Apparated, with Harry as a Side-Along, to Stonesgate Hall, the Malfoy property in Northern Ireland. He knew Narcissa followed his instructions before this escapade to Godric's Hollow. She moved Draco and the staff of House Elves there in case Lucius should not return. The house's magical defenses would have protected them while Narcissa figured out what to do.
Narcissa Malfoy, formerly Narcissa Black, was no stranger to waiting. She had waited long hours for her husband when they first met to finally get over his school boy libido and decide he was ready to settle down. She had waited as he and the others, including that siren Bellatrix (her sister), traipsed around in their white masks and black robes, spewing Pureblood propaganda. She waited while the people screamed in the streets, cradling their baby and trying to get him back to sleep, as Voldemort raged through village after village, leaving barely enough behind. And now, she waited to see if her husband was still alive. If he would come back home to them.
She did not approve of joining the Death Eaters, and regretted the decision he made ever since he received the Brand allying himself with the Dark Lord. Whenever he went off on a mission for He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, she worried. Just like she did now, cradling baby Draco to sleep. She worried and worried and worried, never stopping until he stepped through that front door.
Gazing out the window in the Stonesgate Great Hall, Narcissa watched the grounds with a cool eye. She expected Lucius later in the week. He stayed away weeks at a time for Voldemort, and this time proved no different. He had been gone six days so far, the night bordering on a seventh. Floating lights pierced the night around Stonesgate, lighting the many entrances so Narcissa wouldn't be surprised. While numerous wards guarded the home from magical entrance, those meaning harm could very well walk across the boundaries and onto the grounds. Thus the need for proper lighting.
"Shh, shh, Draco," Narcissa spoke in harsh tones to the child. Why couldn't babes be more…well-behaved? With a grunt of frustration, the lady of the manor called for the house elf Tinker.
The small elf appeared with a flourish and looked up at its mistress with big, expressive blue eyes. She turned towards him and held Draco out. "Put him to bed, he's too fussy." As an afterthought, she added, "And make sure he has enough blankets." The elf nodded, and with a muttered 'yes, mistress', disappeared, taking the infant along with it.
Glad to be free of the burden in her arms, she pulled her fur closer around her and summoned a chair to her. Her watch, as always, would be long and arduous.
Narcissa woke up later. How much later, she didn't know. What woke her, she didn't know. She tugged the fur tight and glanced about. Tinker stood, clad in a grungy pillowcase as were all the Malfoy house elves, looking pleadingly at her. Its grubby hand grasped Narcissa's robes.
"You woke me?" she asked coldly. It nodded its ball-shaped head, its flapped ears smacking the tight skin of its cheeks. She nearly reached down and throttled it. She couldn't believe it had the audacity to touch her expensive robes.
"Yes, mistress," Tinker answered in a small voice.
She raised a hand, ready to bring it down upon its head, when she caught a glimpse of her husband wandering across the fertile lawns of Stonesgate. So, the elf had been waking her to warn her of Lucius' imminent arrival. She ignored the impulse to punish the elf and instead rose to greet her husband as a pureblood wife of high society should. She dismissed Tinker and left the room. It was more proper to welcome Lucius back home at the front door.
She pulled open the two heavy wooden doors and stood at attention for Lucius to arrive at the front steps. She made sure her hair and clothing was satisfactory before opening them. Narcissa didn't want to disappoint him after his mission.
"Good evening, Lucius," she greeted him when he graced the steps. Narcissa would have said more had she not seen the bundle in his arms.
"Narcissa." Lucius simply acknowledged her presence and passed her. Narcissa saw enough of the 'package' to see that it was indeed a living being. Perhaps it was a puppy for Draco? No, he was too young to appreciate the gesture. And Lucius wasn't a fan of wasted effort. Instead of explaining the bundle in his arms, Lucius walked right past his wife, up the stairs beyond the front doors, and towards the nursery where Tinker had placed the fussy Draco. Narcissa, who didn't know what to make of her unusually quiet husband, followed, grasping the hem of her robes in her hands.
"Lucius, what is going on?" she asked again, not accepting silence as an answer. He again pointedly ignored her and instead entered the quiet nursery. The sounds of Draco's soft breathing penetrated the silence. Lucius stood over Draco's crib, staring down at his son.
It seemed hard to accept some days that he was a father. Lucius had never had much use for his father, except for the lessons he taught the young Malfoy before going off to Hogwarts. There Lucius grew to the man who would become head of the Malfoy family, without his father's heavy hand to guide him. Shuddering at the thought of the past, Lucius simply leaned over the crib and placed the bundle next to his son.
Narcissa peered over the edge of the small bed and gasped when she saw the face of a baby boy peeking out of the blue blanket he'd been wrapped in.
"Lucius, what are you doing?" she practically shouted. He shot a hard glare her way, warning her to beware waking the child…children. Now it was children. Lowering her voice, Narcissa asked again. This time, Lucius grabbed her arm harshly and practically dragged her from the room, shutting the door behind them. In hushed tones, he attempted to explain.
He told her about the plan to attack the Potter's residence. He relayed how it had gone wrong, how they killed the Potters but failed to murder the little boy about whom the Prophecy was created. Lucius then quickly told his wife what happened to the Dark Lord, how the cottage came down around them, and how he barely survived. However, Narcissa didn't care about that. She wanted to know why there was a strange child –obviously Harry Potter—in her son's bed, sleeping as if it were his.
"Don't you see, Narcissa? Harry Potter will soon be credited with the downfall of the Dark Lord. People will probably hero worship him for the rest of his life for saving them. And now," Lucius glanced pointedly at the nursery door, waiting his wife's mind to catch up.
"And now we have the boy who defeated the Dark Lord in our nursery, putting him under our control." Lucius nodded approvingly at his wife's statement. She always had the flair for intrigue.
Lucius left her there for a moment to go make preparations. Narcissa watched him go then turned and opened the nursery door, immediately going to her son's side. She looked down at the boys who could be brothers, twins, except for the coloring. She grimaced as she saw her son's hand intertwined with that of Harry Potter's, but resigned to let them sleep instead of disturbing them and her husband.
They looked so peaceful. The two boys fit together as if they were always meant to, and for the first time since Lucius joined the Death Eaters, Narcissa felt that the Malfoy Family –finally—had the upper hand.
Author's Note: So, I decided to rewrite the story "Rose Tint My World". It was going to be a story about Harry going to Durmstrang instead, so I could basically experiment with that. Then, I would bring him back to Hogwarts and he would participate in the Triwizard Tournament. That's the way the previous version of the story was going. However, I got bored with it because I already knew what was going to happen instead of just writing the story as it unfolded in my head. Now, I have decided to revamp it completely, and it has taken an entirely different turn. I will no longer be incorporating the Triwizard Tournament or much from the other story. I am going to take this version on a completely different path than the previous. I hope you like it.