Chapter Two: A Malfoy's Expectations
Lord Lucius Malfoy was having a bad day. Truth be told, he was having a bad week. The Hogwarts Board of Governors had spent the last several months putting together a proposal for a new elective course that could teach the incoming Mudbloods about the culture and traditions they were constantly running roughshod over. Learning even the simplest things about proper behavior if nothing else would at least prevent refined society from dealing with such crass and insulting manners as every outsider child inevitably displayed. And the uncouth little things didn't even realize they were doing it. It was aggravating in the extreme.
If a class was being offered to teach Pure-bloods about a Muggle world they were unlikely to ever have anything to do with, why then could not the school at least try to teach the Muggle-born about the world they were to live in for the rest of their lives? Because, apparently, such a thing was 'limiting' and 'partisan' according to the refusal they had just received from the insufferable old Headmaster. Lucius threw the roll of parchment back onto his desk with a disgusted sigh.
The frustration he so often felt as he watched the ways of his ancestors constantly ignored and disregarded if not outright sullied was mounting as it hadn't since he was fresh out of the confounded school and so foolishly idealistic. He had thought he and his fellows would make such inroads against the invading hordes but all he had done was subjugate himself even more than his culture was already being crushed under ignorant feet.
The Lord of the House of Malfoy knew he had made many mistakes in his youth and he daily sought ways to ensure his family might somehow escape the future that would await them with the return of the Dark Lord. Yet at times like these he remembered exactly why he had been so desperate to see his ancestors' traditions protected that he had thrown his lot in with the once charismatic wizard he was now tethered to. But even that worthy goal was not worth what it had almost cost him. Service to Voldemort was not the life he had wanted for his family. He must now think of his wife and son more so than of society and culture as a whole.
Before he could turn his thoughts back to more prosaic matters, the doors to his private study crashed open, startling him so much that he almost spilled an entire pot of ink across his desk. He bit down any verbal response, however, as his son burst into the room with the widest smile he had seen on his face for some time.
"Father! Father, look! Look who I found in the maze!"
The wizard automatically began to berate his son for the way he had entered the office, stating as calmly as possible that he had been told to enter a room respectfully and only after having knocked. Then the child's words actually registered.
"Someone was in the maze?" Lucius asked in a disbelieving voice tinged with worry. The Malfoy hedge maze was the most secure place on their land aside from the private wing of the Manor, draped in layers of spells to protect the family and punish anyone else that entered. That was why he had always encouraged his heir to play there when he was alone on the grounds. The property as a whole had a thorough ward network but there was no such thing as too much protection, especially considering who some of his allies were. His reaction didn't seem to register with the young blond, who simply nodded his head with a proud grin and swept an arm out into the hallway behind him.
"I was in my fort and then he was just there, in the third path off the center." Draco darted forward and grabbed his father's hand, tugging it insistently towards the doors. "It was accidental magic!"
Lucius narrowed his eyes at the small form that was beginning to take a couple stumbling steps backwards as they approached. The Manor and grounds were both warded against Apparition by anyone but himself and his wife, so it was somewhat of an outlandish idea that anyone, let alone a child, had managed to Apparate onto the grounds. Making it into the maze was even more unbelievable. The amount of raw magical power required for such a thing was beyond what any adult usually possessed, or could control. And the boy in front of him, small, scrawny, dressed in atrocious and ill fitting clothing, looked incapable of summoning a feather, accidentally or otherwise. How had this dirty little boy gotten here?
Lord Malfoy opened his mouth to begin questioning the child when the boy tripped over his own feet and fell backwards onto the polished wood floor. Draco immediately leapt forward with a cry to help the other boy up, seemingly not noticing the look of abject fear the brunette was sporting.
"Harry!" Draco grabbed his new friend's arm and pulled him to his feet, absently surprised at how easy it was. But the only real thing on his mind at the moment was introducing the bespectacled boy to his father. "It's Harry Potter, father! See?"
The Malfoy heir reached out and swept the tangled black fringe off the boy's forehead to reveal the famous scar. The taller boy didn't see the way the brunette flinched when the small hand moved towards his face, but Lucius did. Shrewd grey eyes locked on the scar for a heartbeat, then swept more carefully over the entire child, cataloguing everything he saw. Small, dirty, poorly dressed, pale, thin, and clearly terrified. Bony shoulders hunched forward, his free arm crossed defensively over his belly, though it and the rest of him shook slightly at the adult's approach. This was the famous Dark-Lord-slaying Harry Potter?
"How did you come to arrive in my maze, Mr. Potter?" The words were not harsh, or loud, or accusing. But the child flinched at the sound anyway. "Did someone bring you here, or did you use magic?"
The last word seemed to have an inexplicable effect on the skinny brunette. He began to shake to such a degree that Draco had to use both hands to keep him on his feet, and already wide fearful eyes opened still further and took on a panicked gleam. Then he spoke, the stuttered words as desperate as any he had heard from a victim facing the Dark Lord's wand.
"I'm sorry. I didn't, I didn't use magic. I swear, please. I didn't mean to. I'm sorry, sorry. Please…" the last came out on a whine as Lucius came within a pace of the boy.
"Father! Stop, you're scaring him." Draco exclaimed as he glared at him. Then he turned to face his new friend and tried to reassure the smaller boy. "Harry, it's okay. You're not in trouble. Right, Father?"
Blond brows rose slightly at the almost demanding tone of the question, as if his son were daring him to say otherwise. He inclined his head slightly and took a step back away from the boys, even as he tried to make sense of exactly what was happening. There were pieces here, but he had only suspicions as to the puzzle they formed and no idea what to do with it.
"Of course not. Welcome to my home, Mr. Potter. Perhaps you would like to sit down? I will order us tea, " the wizard took another step away and gestured back towards his private study. Draco immediately took the opening and started forward, but quickly realized his guest was too unsteady on his feet to follow him in. The young blond kept hold of the smaller boy's left arm and wrapped his own right arm around the skinny shoulders to offer support. Still, it took a noticeable amount of effort on the taller boy's part to get Harry moving.
Lucius stepped as far out of their path as he could without leaning on the wall, and once they had entered the room, he did the same. In taking his seat, he chose the one next to his desk rather than the one behind it and watched his son get the famous boy settled on the settee almost two yards across from him. The uneven gait he observed from his unexpected guest was more than could be explained by the hesitation and tremors still in evidence.
"Mr. Potter, are you injured?" The messy head of black hair lowered at the inquiry, the boy hunching forward and looking pointedly away as he shook his head. The older wizard did not have to call the child out on his lie, however, as Draco immediately cut in.
"He is, Father. He's been limping and he was walking real slow too, almost all the way from the maze. I brought him here as quick as I could, Father, so you and Mother could heal him."
The expression on his heir's face clearly stated that he was proud of himself for taking care of his guest and expected his father to feel the same. The way the small grey eyes started to narrow when an offer to see to any injury was not immediately given said he would accept nothing less than the aid he had come for. Lucius suppressed a smirk at his son's automatic expectation that he would receive what he wanted. No Malfoy would tolerate anything else than exactly what he wanted in any given situation.
"Certainly. I shall notify your Mother that her healing talents are required and send in some tea, shall I?"
Draco briefly wondered why his father hadn't simply called a house elf to fetch his mother and bring tea, but was too busy being grateful his new friend looked marginally more relaxed once his father left the room. That progress suffered a bit of a setback when a small table appeared suddenly out of thin air in front of the settee they were on, complete with a full tea set and a plate of biscuits.
Green eyes spent several moments darting wildly around the room, whether looking for the source of the food or checking to see if something would happen in response to its arrival, the blond wasn't sure. The Malfoy heir was gratified however, when his own unruffled behavior in serving them both a cup of tea and beginning to eat and drink seemed to reassure the smaller boy a little. Hoping to set his guest even more at ease, Draco held out the plate of biscuits. "Biscuit? My favorite are the molasses ones but the oatmeal are quite good too."
Very slowly, and after a long pause, Harry reached out and took one of the proffered treats, doing his best to return some portion of the smile that the taller boy sent him in response. The first few bites he took of the biscuit were tiny, not knowing what to expect. He'd never been allowed biscuits before, except once at school when Tony Rogers brought them in for his birthday. But he hadn't even get a small bite of it before Dudley had stolen it for himself, claiming that Harry had knocked his on the ground.
The chewy sweetness of the biscuit went wonderfully with the fruit tea and he began taking larger bites, anxious to finish it before anyone decided he didn't deserve it after all. His self-appointed friend only grinned, finished his own, and snagged them each another. This time the brunette got molasses but it must have been okay for him to eat it even though it was Draco's favorite. Draco had given it to him after all, and he hadn't even snatched it back and laughed like Dudley sometimes did. Ten minutes later, all the biscuits and most of the tea was gone and both boys were much more relaxed, discussing the different foods they liked best.
The blond found Harry's preferences a little odd, but he didn't say so, they were friends now after all. He knew they would be, of course, but it was still exciting to experience it now instead of having to wait until Hogwarts. He could tell that Harry still wasn't sure about things, but that was probably because he was hurt. It was hard to have fun when something hurt a lot. Draco couldn't wait until Mother came and fixed whatever was bothering the other boy so he could take Harry up to see his room and all his animated toy dragons.
Any plans he might be making for the rest of their afternoon were placed on hold when the doors reopened to reveal both his parents. His mother barely spared him a smile, her attention focused on the other boy, who seemed to shrink in on himself a little as soon as the adults appeared. He could hardly blame her really, it was Harry Potter, after all. Why Harry looked so unhappy to see her, he didn't understand, though he never got a chance to ask as the regal witch swept in and sat in the chair his father had previously occupied.
"Hello, Mr. Potter, it's a pleasure to meet you." Harry didn't manage much more than a nod, his eyes growing wide once more and any composure he had gained swiftly fading. Narcissa didn't bother to correct his manners, too fascinated by the scrawny boy's behavior. Paired with what Lucius had told her on the walk here, she found this already unbelievable situation growing still more strange. "I hope you enjoyed your tea."
The fearful expression turned guilty and he clutched his hands in his lap as quick as he could. He knew he shouldn't have had any, freaks never got to eat things like biscuits, he knew that. "I-I'm sorry," Harry hastened to say, "I didn't mean to eat so many. I can make more, please, I can."
The blonde woman flashed him an odd type of smile he'd never seen before and shook her head. "Nonsense, Mr. Potter. The biscuits were for you, after all. If you'd like, you may have another when we have finished tending your injury. Draco said you were hurt?"
The headshake started even before she had completed speaking. "No, no I'm fine."
A single blonde brow rose in question but once again, the other boy jumped in to refute the brunette's denial. "He is not. He was limping and everything."
"Hmm, your ankle then, is it? Or perhaps your foot." the Lady Malfoy half asked half stated as she slowly rose and approached the settee where the boys were seated. She ignored the way the Potter boy pressed himself into the cushions behind him as she settled elegantly onto her knees. She ignored the way he flinched when she gently took hold of his right foot and pushed up the ragged end of his trouser leg. The ankle she exposed appeared normal if not far too skinny for a boy his age. As soon as she touched him, Harry became perfectly still, aside from the fine tremors she could feel under her hand. Remaining silent, she released his right foot and began to raise the left instead.
A sharp gasp escaped the boy and she slowly moved the dirty and worn piece of clothing up his leg to expose a badly swollen ankle and a mottling of dark bruising layered over older bruises now tinged green and yellow at the edges. The instant the injury was exposed, Harry spoke.
"I fell."
Neither adult said anything in response to the almost panicked words. Not that she didn't have anything to say, however. In fact, the witch had quite a few things to say about a young boy who walked half the breadth of their extensive grounds with such an injury and still insisted there was nothing wrong when offered aid. None of the things she didn't say were at all complimentary of whatever guardians the child happened to have.
The series of spells that followed did much for the swelling but little for the bruising. When blue eyes finally raised from their work to meet green, it was to find the latter riveted to the wand in her hand. With a tilt of her head and a smile that hid yet another question, Narcissa carefully released the injury and rose to her feet.
"Dobby." The elf appeared with a pop only a moment later, and their unexpected guest jerked noticeably in his seat but only stared wide-eyed at the creature, as the Lady of the house requested a jar of bruise balm and a single dose of pain potion. When the strange thing disappeared with another pop, Harry couldn't contain his gasp.
"Haven't you ever seen a house elf?" The Boy-Who-Lived shook his head swiftly from side to side in answer to the other boy's surprised question. "Then who does all the cooking and cleaning at your house?"
The brunette looked over at the first person to ever act like they actually wanted to be friends with him and started to answer with a stuttered "I-I-I-" only to bite his lip with a quick glance at the adults. Silence again descended on the room though it took a pointed look from his mother to keep Draco from saying anything else before Dobby reappeared with the items she had requested, making Harry once more flinch in his seat.
"Here you are, Mr. Potter," Narcissa said with a smile as she handed the vial with the strange purple liquid to the child. She simply held it out, smile never wavering, until he finally took it from her hand and swallowed its contents when she instructed him to do so. The edges of the bland smile twitched as she saw his startled expression and surmised that the potion had started working.
"Excellent. Now the balm," with a slight pause, the witch offered the jar to the small boy after relieving him of the empty potion vial. "Perhaps you would like to apply it yourself?"
The expression of relief that crossed his pale face was obvious. "Very well. Wobbly," the elf appeared instantly at her side and then popped away eagerly when asked to fetch a full casual ensemble from Draco's room. Other than the name, it appeared indistinguishable from the one that appeared before. Seconds later, the creature happily set a tidy stack of clothes on the table in front of the startled boy.
"There is a bathroom just across the hall, you can apply the balm there as well as change into something a bit less travel-worn."
The brunette blinked for several seconds, as if not quite sure what been said. Then he was shaking his head yet again. "Oh no, that's okay. Dud- my stuff's fine. I'm fine, really. I don't need new clothes."
The words were insistent, even as green eyes wandered briefly over to the neat stack of new clothing. The blatant want in his gaze when he looked at them was clear, as was the way he forced himself to look away and bite his lip with an air of resignation.
"Nonsense, Mr. Potter. It is no trouble, and you'll be much more comfortable that way." As she spoke, Narcissa shoo'd the boy into the bathroom across from her husband's study. Without another word, the pile of clothing and the jar of balm was pressed into his hands and the door closed on the bewildered child.
The two adults waited silently for several moments, absently watching their son fidget in his seat as he waited for the other boy to return. Under ordinary circumstances she would scold him for the unrefined behavior. However, she was having a hard time remaining poised herself, and could tell by the slight twitch of her husband's fingers that he was resisting the urge to fiddle with his cane. Such actions on his part were very rare, and reserved almost exclusively to private discussions regarding the Dark Lord. The witch slowly made her way to his side, ensuring that Draco was far enough away from them not to hear any conversation that might take place.
"Lucius?" she questioned in a whisper. The slight raise of her brow at his answering glance was enough to tell him what she didn't say.
"This is foolhardy," he returned, his lips barely moving as he spoke. She inclined her head in agreement and blue and grey both glanced to the closed door of the bathroom before returning to each other. "If the others were to hear that I had the opportunity to deal with Potter and did not do so, we would all pay for it. When He returns…"
She pressed her lips together firmly as he trailed off, knowing as well as he did what the consequences would be for their family if the Dark Lord learned they had let the Boy-Who-Lived slip through their fingers without ending the threat. No matter that the Dark Lord had wanted to kill the boy himself before he disappeared, and may be displeased with having lost his chance, he would be furious if one of his own had failed to do it for him. A furious Dark Lord was not something she wanted to ever see aimed in the direction of her family. And yet, seeing the skinny, frightened child that had stoically tried to ignore his own pain, Narcissa had a hard time thinking of him as a threat to be dealt with.
"What should we do with the child?"
"You're going to help him aren't you? So he can be my friend and help us like you said?" The young voice startled both adults from their short discussion, neither having noticed that their son had wandered closer to them while they spoke.
"It is a complicated situation, dear-" Narcissa began, only to have her husband cut in with a question.
"What do you mean by that, Draco?"
The Malfoy heir furrowed his brow in innocent confusion as he looked at his parents. "He's my friend now, just like you said he would be. And he can help us. I heard you talking with Uncle Severus, you said that if we had Harry Potter on our side, that we had a chance to be safe and make things right."
The young blond cocked his head to the side as he finished, as if thinking about what he had said, perhaps making sure he had repeated it correctly, or perhaps just wondering what exactly his father had meant when he'd said that. He didn't always understand the things Mother and Father talked about in the parlor after he was supposed to be in bed. When they spoke with his Godfather, he understood even less, but that is why he often snuck away from his elf, Wobbly and listened. So he could learn how to be a good Lord Malfoy like his father.
Maybe he hadn't said it properly, he thought as he watched his mother bite her lip in a way she almost never did. He didn't have time to think about his possible mistake, however, as Father kneeled in front of him with narrowed eyes. "Why exactly did you bring Mr. Potter here, Draco?"
He scowled lightly up at the older wizard. Hadn't he just said? "To help us. And be my friend. Now I can play with Harry and we can fix things and help you do what you want, like you said."
For a moment, no one spoke. Though in the wake of his heir's almost exasperated words, Lucius stood and stalked to the other side of the room. He could recall any number of times he had sat up late into the night with his wife and friend, lamenting the state of their world and what was likely to befall them all in the years to come. While they had considered many ways in which to free their family from Voldemort, no strategy had ever seemed tenable and it was decided that they may have to wait and hope that the Boy-Who-Lived would save them all as the prophecy Severus had heard implied.
Placing the fate of his family in the hands of a child who had been hidden away with Muggles, untrained and unknowing of his place in their world did not, of course, sit well with the Lord of the House of Malfoy. The wizard leaned forward, hands on the edge of his desk and stared sightlessly at the papers stacked there.
He could also remember more than one melancholic discussion regarding the power held by the Headmaster and the ways he used it to stifle and subdue Wizarding culture to his liking, even taking over the placement of the famous boy without a single question or complaint from the many brainless sycophants that populated Magical society. For all the power and control the old man possessed now, it would only grow when he brought Potter to the school and groomed him for his role, which according to what Severus had been able to glean, did not include the acceptance of his title or his House Seats on the Wizengamot.
They could only assume that Dumbledore would name himself Proxy for the boy, or else convince the child to name him as such. The damage that could be done to Wizarding culture under those conditions was immeasurable as far as Lucius was concerned. He had almost convinced himself it was a price he was willing to pay if it meant freeing his family from near slavery with the destruction of the Dark Lord. But now, faced with an alternative, he was uncertain. He was tempted.
"The boy may be the only way to bring Him down," Lucius admitted quietly as his wife approached, leaving their son standing restlessly in the doorway and watching the bathroom for his friend's appearance. "And he hardly seems to be receiving the training he will need to do so where he is."
Narcissa conceded the fact with a nod, ignoring her husband's sneer as she thought back to the skinny child's injury and all the other signs obvious in his appearance and behavior. "He hardly seems to be receiving much of anything where he is. He may, in fact, be eager to find a different situation. One which could see him trained… properly."
The couple exchanged a heavy look, and his gaze drifted once more to the surface of his desk. It was obvious that the famous boy's home life was far from ideal, or even adequate. If the boy was unhappy enough to accidently Apparate himself to them, he may be thankful to those who took him in, as Narcissa suggested. He might also be unhappy with the one who had placed him in the Muggle world to begin with. With the correct training, such a child could easily be made to see the ills that were befalling their world.
How would the Wizarding community react were their young hero to speak out against the daft old man they thoughtlessly followed? How would the Wizengamot? The boy had, after all, inherited the Potter and Peverell seats on the court. Not to mention the other. Dumbledore and his ilk did not have access to the oldest of their society's genealogy, such things existed only within the private family trees of those families who were old enough to own them and who valued their House enough to pass them on.
Therefore, the deepest roots of those Houses Potter could claim was known only by a very few select families. Namely, the Malfoys and the Blacks. Families who had known better than to allow the secret out where men like the Headmaster could use it to the detriment of their world. But if that information was released and steered in the proper direction by one who did know, and could focus that power and influence in the correct way?
The work that could be accomplished with the backing of such Houses as beloved Potter and legendary Peverell was staggering. Especially if one took into account the influence the famous boy would automatically possess in his own right. And then there was the personal power of the child in question. Accidental magic could be more powerful than something cast purposefully if there was enough emotion behind it. But to Apparate through wards such as existed around the Malfoy property? And those in the maze as well? It was no wonder the manipulative old Headmaster had hidden the child away and planned to mold him to his own ideals once he entered Hogwarts and was under his control.
The blond wizard stared hard at the letter he had been reading with such frustration only half an hour before. Decision made, he turned to regard his wife with a steely gaze. "Have Dobby and Wobbly set up the room beside Draco's."
A twitch of her lips betrayed the smile she was suppressing, though it only lingered a moment. Then blue eyes drifted to the doorway and back again. "He will need a more thorough examination, I am sure the ankle is not the only injury he has suffered recently. Not to mention his size and weight. Neither is as it should be."
Lucius nodded once, knowing exactly what it was she was asking for. "I will contact him. He will be here shortly to offer what aid you require."
She did not suppress the smile that rose in response, and he returned it for a moment before exiting the room with a determined stride. As he turned into the reception room to use its floo her voice drifted to him.
"My, Mr. Potter, don't you look handsome. Here, just let me charm up that hem a bit for you, dear."
