Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter

Prized

Chapter Two - Narcissa

When Harry woke up he knew immediately that he wasn't in the Dursley's house. His bed there had never been so soft, and the sheet that he'd had wasn't anything like the warm blankets that surrounded him. It almost felt like he was lying on a cloud.

He blinked blearily up at the ceiling, an unfamiliar shade of off-white, and tried to figure out what had happened. The last thing he remembered was…

"Are you awake, then?"

Harry went from half asleep to mostly awake in a the space of a breath. His heart pounded. That voice. He sat up straight, the motion tugging at his abused back painfully but he didn't care. That voice! He stared at the speaker, then felt his heartbeat settle into something more regular. Not Bellatrix.

But… "Mrs. Malfoy?" he asked, just to make sure. He'd never spent any time around her at all, but he was pretty sure he recognized her. She certainly looked like a Malfoy might, regal and ever so slightly disdaining of her surroundings.

She inclined her head gracefully. "We're in a hotel in France," she said quietly. "Since I'm certain you were about to ask. Severus must help the Order search for you, or he would have been glad to stay with you himself. I've been tasked with your care until such time as our Lord deems it safe for you to return to London once more."

Harry's eyes widened in realization. "Snape gave me to the Dark Lord," he said quietly. "This… isn't exactly the sort of cell that I would have expected from him." And then he winced, because he really should try to get out of the habit of blurting out whatever was on his mind. It wouldn't serve him well in the weeks to come, he imagined.

Narcissa frowned at him. "This isn't a cell at all, Mr. Potter, this is a five star hotel in Muggle France. Although, for your own safety, I must request that you not leave the hotel. The Order will be searching for you."

"Why would Voldemort put me in a hotel somewhere? I thought he wanted me dead." Harry's head was starting to ache in his confusion.

"I do not know what prompted his decision, but the Dark Lord has declared you are precious to him, and are to be treated accordingly. You are in no danger from any Death Eater, at least not from any that hope to retain the Dark Lord's favor."

Harry closed his eyes and flopped back on the bed, and immediately regretted it when his back protested. "And what if I'd like to leave?"

"I'm afraid that I have been asked to keep you here through any means necessary," Narcissa said calmly, and lifted her sleeve slightly to reveal her wand, in a holster on her arm. "That includes anything up to and including placing you into a magical coma until such time as someone more qualified than I arrives to keep you in place."

Harry sighed. He rolled onto his side and curled as much into a ball as he could without his back hurting. What did it matter, anyway? It wasn't like he had any reasons to escape. The Headmaster believed that he had to die to end the war. His friends were spies. He wondered if they had ever really been his friends, or if they'd always been spying on him. Had anything they'd shared been real?

"I realize that being stuck inside isn't any young man's idea of a good summer," Narcissa began, her tone somewhat lecturing. "There is, however, quite a lot to do just inside this building. They've a spa, several different swimming pools, and a movie theater."

"I… in the hotel?" Harry's confusion distracted him from his growing depression. What kind of hotel had all of that stuff? None that the Dursleys had ever mentioned.

"More of a resort, I suppose. We could also go horseback riding, apparently, although that would necessitate our going outside."

Harry rolled over and found that Mrs. Malfoy was reading off of a brochure. "You have no idea what some of that is, do you Mrs. Malfoy?" he asked, amused despite himself. The thought of a Malfoy in a movie theater was an entertaining one.

"Of course not," she answered with a small sniff. "They are, for the most part, Muggle activities. And please, I would greatly appreciate it if you were to call me Narcissa." Her smile, when she looked up at him, was soft and gentle.

Harry couldn't keep himself from responding to the smile with a hesitant one of his own. Were Ron here, he imagined he would have been just as confused as Narcissa was. People raised in the magical world never did seem to do well moving about in the Muggle one. Not that it mattered anymore, because he would never go anywhere with Ron again.

The thought broke his burgeoning good mood, and Harry rolled back over and stared at the wall. "Maybe we could do something tomorrow," he said quietly. Not that he thought that he would want to do anything tomorrow, either.

"You must be exhausted," Narcissa said after a moment of silence. "I'll leave you to rest, then," she murmured. He heard her moving about the room, and the room went dark. She must have drawn the curtain over the huge windows on the other side of the room, and for that Harry was grateful.

He heard the door click as it closed, and then he was alone in the room. How appropriate.

ooOOooOOoo

"He hasn't left the room all day, Severus. Not since you left him with me," Harry heard Narcissa say, and heard the door crack open.

The light from the outer room crept in and Harry closed his eyes against it. He'd been alone in the dark for a while, after all, and it hurt his eyes.

"Mr. Potter?" he heard Professor Snape ask quietly.

Harry didn't answer. Perhaps it was childish of him, but he didn't want to. He couldn't find the energy.

He heard the Professor let out a small sigh. "We'll be out shortly," he said, presumably to Narcissa. The door closed again and the lights flicked on, bright and punishing even with his eyes closed.

Harry flinched and buried his head in the pillow to ward off the brightness.

He felt the bed dip behind him and felt a gentle hand on his shoulder. "I can understand that you're upset," the Professor began quietly.

"Why didn't you just kill me?" Harry asked before he could continue.

"I'm sorry?"

"Why didn't you just kill me? Why give me to Voldemort?"

"Would you have preferred it if I had?" the Professor asked, sounding genuinely startled.

"Maybe," Harry whispered.

He heard the Professor suck in a sharp breath of air. There was a moment of silence and then, softly, the Professor said, "I joined the Death Eaters when I'd only just graduated from Hogwarts. Shortly after I joined, I overheard a prophecy regarding the fall of the Dark Lord. Because I was eager to prove myself, I took that information to Voldemort and only after I did so did I realize that I'd just as good as killed your mother."

Harry rolled over and stared up at the Professor. He was staring off at the wall, a far away look on his face. Harry opened his mouth to say something, anything, but closed it once more without speaking. What could he say?

"I loved your mother, Harry, very much. I… it was information that I gave the Dark Lord that led to her death. I wanted to die when she did. But I didn't, Harry, because I made her a promise. I swore on her grave, on my magic and my life, that I would do everything in my power to keep you alive in the years to come."

"But you hate me," he managed to choke out through the shock spreading through him.

"A part the Headmaster asked me to play. I had no choice in it, Harry. If it would help keep you alive, Harry, I would have given anything. You hating me was a small price to pay."

Harry took a deep breath and let it out slowly. It was a lot to process, and he wasn't sure… he couldn't… He took another deep breath. "What do you want from me?" he asked.

"For now, I'd like for you to get up and have dinner with Narcissa and I. Eventually, I would like to see you happy and thriving in this new environment." The Professor's lips quirked into a slight smile. "I acknowledge the difficulty of such a thing."

Harry thought about that, turning it over in his mind for several minutes. Finally, he sat up. He ignored the twinges in his back as he did so. "I can do dinner," he offered quietly.

The Professor's smile broadened. "I am glad to hear that," he said.

Harry tried to return his smile. He could do this. He could. He could at least try, anyway.

ooOOooOOoo

The restaurant was nice, nicer than any place Harry had ever been in his life. He felt very much out of place in his oversized jeans and t-shirt, especially next to Narcissa and Professor Snape. She wore a dark blue dress and he wore a button-down shirt and trousers.

"Relax, Mr. Potter," Professor Snape said calmly. "You're fine."

"I just really don't think I should be in a place like this dressed the way I am," Harry muttered. He slouched into his chair behind his menu and tried to make himself inconspicuous. He felt like everyone was staring at him, even if he was pretty sure that they weren't.

"If they had a dress code, they wouldn't have let you in," Narcissa said. "Have you never been in a restaurant like this?"

"No." There was a lot that he could have added to that statement, about the Dursleys and the way that he'd grown up, but he didn't. It wasn't any of their business, and it didn't matter anyway.

"Then this is the perfect way to begin your etiquette lessons," she said, a smile in her voice.

Harry's head jerked up and he stared at her incredulously. She looked incredibly smug, with just a hint of a smile on her lips. "Etiquette lessons?" Harry finally asked.

"If you're going to be in the presence of the Dark Lord, you must know how to properly handle yourself. That includes eating in restaurants much fancier than this one."

Harry opened his mouth to respond, then closed it and opened his menu instead. He wanted to close it almost immediately. He couldn't read anything on the menu. It was written entirely in French. Which, now that he thought about it, made sense. They were in France, after all.

Harry let out a small groan and let his head flop against the table. It hurt, but since he could already feel a headache blossoming, that was okay.

ooOOooOOoo

Dinner had been something of an exercise in torture, and so Harry was glad to get back to his room after it was over. He retreated to the bedroom he'd come to think of as his own almost immediately, leaving Narcissa and the Professor in the sitting room. Only moments after he'd fallen forward onto the bed, someone tapped on the door.

Harry groaned but called out, "Come in!"

The Professor entered the room and settled into the chair near the bed. "Are you going to behave for Narcissa?" he asked bluntly.

Harry sat up and shrugged, ignoring the pulling on the marks on his back. "It isn't like I have a better option, is it?" he asked. If he sounded a bit bitter, he was pretty sure that nobody could blame him.

The Professor leaned forward. "Harry, I swear she has your best interests in mind," he said quietly.

Harry's lip curled. "She doesn't know me," he snarled. "She has no idea what's in my best interest. And neither do you, for that matter. Neither one of you know anything about me!"

"Did you want me to leave you there, then? To let Dumbledore continue to manipulate you until it was time for you to die?"

Harry flinched. "I don't…" He stopped and took a deep breath. "I suppose not," he said.

"I know that this is hard on you, Harry," the Professor said gently. "Don't think that I don't understand that this is probably one of the worst things you've ever dealt with. You were betrayed, and I don't blame you for being upset."

"Well, as long as you don't blame me, Professor," Harry muttered, unable to keep the sarcasm from his voice.

Professor Snape laughed quietly. "You should be thanking me, you know," he said. "The Dark Lord's first thought was to send somebody you would be more comfortable with. A boy of your own age, with good manners and impeccable breeding." The Professor paused, then added, "He thought Draco would be a good candidate."

Harry felt the blood rush from his face. "Professor," Harry began, only to stop when the Professor raised one hand.

"I told him that it was likely far too soon for you to try to make friends so soon after the ones you had betrayed you. That was when he decided on Narcissa."

"Thank you," Harry breathed.

"Don't think you've escaped it entirely. All I've done is buy you some time."

"Yeah, but all I have to do is make it work for the two months until Hogwarts opens, then…" Harry stopped suddenly as a thought occurred to him. "I won't be going back to Hogwarts, will I?" he asked.

"No," the Professor confirmed. "I believe the Dark Lord intends to find you a suitable private tutor to finish your education."

Harry closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When that was shaky, he took a few more for good measure. "I'll behave for Narcissa," he finally managed to say, answering the initial question.

The Professor took it for the dismissal that it sort of was. He stood and said, "I don't know when I'll be able to return. The Headmaster is desperate to have you found. If the Dark Lord does choose to send Draco to you, please try to be civil."

Harry groaned but said, "I'll try." Then, after a moment of thought, he said, "I'll try if he does."

The Professor nodded. "Stay safe, Harry." He walked to the door, then, and opened it.

Just as he was about to step through, Harry called to him, "Professor!"

Professor Snape turned with one eyebrow quirked in question. "Yes?"

Harry took another deep breath. "I don't…" He stopped and cleared his throat. "I don't think I said. I haven't really been at my best. But… thank you, again, for saving my life." He looked down at the carpet, a dark red that probably hid a multitude of stains.

"You are most welcome," the Professor said softly. He left the room and the closed the door behind him.

Harry let himself fall back onto the bed and flinched at the spike of pain from his back. He rolled onto his side and stared at the closed door. He could stay in his room and sulk, which was what he really wanted to do. Or… or he could get up and go into the sitting room and speak with Narcissa. See if he could make things easier on both of them, rather than being difficult and unreasonable. This wasn't her fault, after all.

He stood and left his room. Narcissa was sitting on one of the armchairs near the windows in the sitting room. She was reading a book, though she looked up and smiled when he came out. He cleared his throat and said, "You said something about etiquette lessons?"

"I did, indeed," she said, and placed a bookmark in her book. She set it on the coffee table next to the chair. "Please, sit with me."

Harry nodded, and went to sit in the other armchair. He could do this. Really. He could. If he kept repeating it, maybe it would even be true.