3. The Tyger

Tyger, Tyger burning bright
In the forest of the night
What immortal hand or eye
Could carve thy perfect symmetry?

There were two dining halls in Malfoy Manor: one for formal occasions and one for everyday use. Harry sat in the one for everyday use early the next morning after Dobby had fetched him saying that Lord Malfoy desired his presence in thirty minutes giving the boy time to bathe and dress in one of the outfits he found in his closet, a simple pair of shorts and a collared shirt. Harry sat up straight with his hands clasped in his lap at the table, while Mr. Malfoy sat at one end of the table reading a newspaper called the Daily Prophet. No meal had been served yet and Harry wondered if they were waiting for the arrival of the Lady Malfoy and their son, but he wouldn't waste words on asking something he would soon know the answer to, so for not he bided his time waiting in silence.

As if summoned by Harry's patient thoughts, at that very moment the fireplace at the end of long table burned a bright green color grabbing Harry's inquiring attention. The green flames subsided and in their wake a tall woman with platinum blonde hair stepped out accompanied by a boy that looked like a younger version of the Lord Malfoy with hair spun from the purest silver and eyes like storm clouds. The boy could only be young Draco Malfoy, which meant the woman must have been the Lady of the house.

"Lucius darling we're home," the Lady chimed in an annoyingly high pitched voice, rushing over to her husband and greeting him with a kiss. "Oh Darling, you really should have came with us. Paris is beautiful this time of year and the shopping was tres bonne."

"My regrets then my dear Narcissa, but I had certain matters to attend to here. I trust that you and Draco enjoyed yourselves."

"Well of course we did, Darling, don't we always. But you'll never believe who we bumped into. There we were walking along Le Rue de Saint Martine when who would pop up but Pat Parkinson and her little daughter Pansy. It was quite the chance encounter really Pat and I got a chance to catch up with each other while Draco and little Pansy became acquainted; lovely girl that Pansy is growing into. But enough about our trip, did you get what you needed done accomplished?"

"Yes Dear, I did."

"Father, who is this?" The young Malfoy spoke for the first time, drawing attention to Harry, who he'd been staring at the whole time the adults was speaking and Harry had been staring right back at him.

"This is Harry," Lucius said simply. "He will be staying with us for now own."

"What?" Draco asked. "Why?"

"Because I deemed it fitting for you to have a playmate at this age," Lucius replied. "And Harry here wasn't exactly in the best living environment for a young wizard."

Narcissa looked the small boy over curiously. "Is he a mudblood?"

"Half-blood, his surname is Potter."

"Potter?" The Lady Malfoy repeated in awe. "As in the Harry Potter."

"The very same; he was being brought up in a Muggle orphanage."

"An orphanage, surely Dumbledore didn't leave him there?"

"From what I gathered he was left there by his Muggle uncle, but you will have to ask Harry to be certain."

The Lady Malfoy looked at Harry as if waiting for something, eventually she turned back to her husband. "Why isn't he speaking? Is he daft or something?"

Lucius turned to the boy and raised one eyebrow. "Harry?" His tone was level but demanding.

"No ma'am I am not daft," Harry said in a pleasant tone. "It's just I find myself completely enamored with words and prefer not to waste them in idle chatter."

"Enamored, idle; big words for such a small boy, how old did you say you were again?"

"I didn't say, ma'am, but I am six years old. I taught myself to read at a young age and have only furthered my vocabulary since."

"Really?" Mrs. Malfoy sounded a bit impressed.

"Boring," Draco declared cutting his mother off and forcing a yawn. "What do you do for fun."

Harry didn't say anything.

"If you're going to be my playmate, then I need to know what you do for fun." Draco sounded every bit the spoiled brat and Harry couldn't help but frown slightly inwardly hoping the boy wasn't like this all the time.

A look at Mr. Malfoy resigned Harry to his fate. "I read," he said in low tone. "I love reading."

"Boring, reading isn't fun, it's lessons." Like a petulant child the Malfoy heir turned to his father and declared, "I don't like him. Take him back."

"Unfortunately Draco, Harry isn't like any of the other toys I bought you before. You can't just send him back.

"Well you play with him; I don't want him." That said the six year old Malfoy stormed out of the room.

"Oh dear," Narcissa sighed, "Draconis." She rushed after her son leaving Harry alone with Lucius in the dining hall.

On what distant deeps or skies
Burned the fire in thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire,
Does the hand dare cease the fire?

Mr. Malfoy sighed and folded his newspaper. "I must apologize for my son's behavior," he said sitting up straight and clasping his hands in front of him. "I must admit that his mother and I have spoiled him more than just a little bit."

Harry nodded silently, biting his lip and debating on asking the question buzzing through his mind. "You're not going to send me back are you?" He finally asked but kept himself from rambling on.

"Of course not," Lucius said in a nonchalant tone. "Draco just needs time to grow on you. He's always dissatisfied with his playthings before he breaks them in."

Harry tried not to wince at the Malfoy's choice of words; he nodded his head solemnly.

"Well it seems that the family breakfast will be canceled for today, return to your room and I'll have Dobby bring your meal there." Harry nodded again and pushed himself out of his seat and made for the stairs.

"Oh Draco, you know your father would never." Narcissa's voice drifted to him from behind the door across the hall from Harry's room, it was slightly ajar and Harry could just barely make out a sitting room very much like the one in his own rooms inside. These must be Draco's rooms.

"But it's the Harry Potter. I bet father would much rather have him for a son. He's going to replace me, I know it."

"You're speaking nonsense Draconis, your father loves you; you're irreplaceable to him."

"I thought that at one point, but did you see him? Did you hear him speak? I don't even know those words he used and I've been seeing a tutor for years. I don't like him."

"Draconis Abraxes Malfoy, petty jealousy is unbecoming of someone of the Malfoy heritage. Your father loves you and will not replace you with the Potter boy, and that's the end of it. Now give Harry a chance will you, I'm sure you two have a lot in common."

"I'm not jealous," Draco huffed. "Why would I be jealous of that boy? I will not give him a chance. I hate him!"

Harry didn't want to hear anymore, he opened the door to his room and slipped inside. The door closed with a click behind him and he padded over to his bedroom and retrieved his little red book from where he had hidden it under the pillow. Pushing open the large French doors, Harry stepped out onto the balcony and leaned against the rail to look up at the house. Thankfully his rooms were on the top floor with nothing but the roof above him. There were a few decorative protrusions from the side of the house.

Harry smiled and rushed back into his rooms, running through the bedroom he barge into the sitting room and grabbed the first book he could reach off the shelf, which happened to be The Complete Tales of Beedle the Bard. Back on the balcony he stuffed that book along with his mother's red book into the waistband on his pants and climbed onto the railing of the balcony. Carefully so as not to lose his balance, he leaned against he wall and reached up for the first protrusion. Probably if not for what Mr. Malfoy called his raw magic he wouldn't have been able to accomplish the task but after some careful maneuverings Harry sat down on the roof of the Malfoy Manor with a sense of accomplishment. With a smile on his face, Harry pulled the two books from his waist band and cracked one open. He loved being outside up high where the sun could warm his skin while he read. It was one of the simply pleasures in life that allowed him to forget everything.

On what shoulder, on what art
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart begins to beat
What dread hand and what dread feet?

The sun was reaching its midday high when Harry finally (rather reluctantly) closed his book when he realized that his stomach was protesting his skipping breakfast. Sighing, Harry inched his way towards the edge of the roof and hung his legs over his balcony. Dropping the books down so that he wouldn't have to worry about them, Harry rolled over onto his stomach and began the tedious task of returning himself to solid ground.

Harry squeezed his eyes closed as his legs kicked around in open air trying to find a foothold to ease himself down with; Harry had no problem with climbing to high places but he always felt more than a little nervous when he had to get himself down; there was just something about having his legs flailing in thin air that unnerved him. It was relief when his feet were planted firmly back on the balcony floor. Gathering his books, he entered his bedroom, took the time to put his mother's red book back under the pillow, and threw the other book into the middle of his bed. He hadn't returned a moment too soon because at that instant Dobby appeared telling him he was to head to the dining hall for lunch.

Only Lady Malfoy was in the dining hall when he arrived. Harry nodded and mumbled a greeting to her before taking the seat he'd been in earlier. Neither of them spoke, but Harry could feel the Lady's eyes on him as he nervously tugged at the hem of his shirt. Not long after Harry's arrival Draco padded into the room and took his seat, he mumbled a hello to his mother; shot Harry a sideways look, before tugging at the hem of his own shirt and sat upright in his seat. The group remained silent until the Lord of the house made his arrival. He greeted everyone and took his seat, lunch was served soon after.

"Harry I never got the chance to properly introduce you to my lovely wife Narcissa and my son Draco."

Harry smiled shyly. "Pleased to meet you both."

Narcissa nodded her greeting and Draco let out a huff keeping his attention on his meal. Eventually Narcissa couldn't stand the silence any longer and struck up idle conversation with her husband and son, disregarding Harry's presence all together, not that Harry much minded he wouldn't have said much anyway, of that he was sure. Instead he just listened.

"I don't much like that Pansy girl," Draco was saying. "She was too giggly and annoying."

"Oh, dear, you're just not old enough to understand a woman's charm yet." Narcissa told him.

"I still don't like her. She got mad when I hit her when I was only playing. Blaise hits back when I hit him, she was no fun. But I suppose she could be worst. She could spend her whole day reading books, that's just boring."

Narcissa winced and tried to change the subject. "When was the last time you talked to Blaise? He hasn't been over in a while."

"His family is spending the summer in Italy; he said he'll be back on my birthday but only for a little while."

"Oh, that's right, have you decided who all you want to invite for your birthday party?"

"No girls," Draco declared. "If they're all like Pansy, then they'll spoil all the fun."

Lucius chuckled at his son's childishness.

"Right dear, I'll keep that in mind." Narcissa giggled.

"And I don't want Harry there either." Draco added.

What the hammer, what the chain?
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil, what dread clasp
In what deadly terrors grasp?

Harry wasn't particularly upset about being singled out to not attend Draco's party, though he did wish that the blond would just take the chance to get to know him before letting his preconceptions guide his decisions. The truth of the matter was, Harry had a completely rational fear that Mr. Malfoy would send him back to the orphanage if Draco didn't like him, despite the man's assurances that he wouldn't. Fact of the matter was the only reason Harry had been taken into the Malfoy home was to be Draco's playmate and if Draco didn't want him then there was no reason for him to remain present.

"Draco, dear, surely you don't mean that," Narcissa said.

"Yes I do, he's boring; why would I want him at my party?"

Narcissa opened her mouth to speak, but at that moment Harry decided he couldn't listen anymore. Setting his fork down louder than exactly necessary Harry looked towards Lucius at the head of the table. "I'm not hungry anymore; may I be excused?" Lucius gave a nod and Harry pushed himself away from the table. Giving not so much as a passing glance at the rest of the Malfoy's Harry rushed out the hall and up the stairs to his room.

Once the stars threw down their spears
And water heave with their tears
Did he smile his work to see?
Did he who made the lamb make thee?

Once concealed in his sanctuary of a room, Harry collapsed onto the bed and stared up at the ceiling. He wouldn't let Draco's words get to him. He was used to being picked on and called names, the lease of which was as kind as 'boring'. The way he saw it, Draco Malfoy was just another person who was wasting words that could have been put to better use.

But Harry couldn't bring himself to dislike the boy. Sure Draco was spoiled brat, but that wasn't his fault. It had been his parents to sully him in such a way. His parents had been the ones to dote so much love and affection onto him that he became used to having things his way. Harry couldn't dislike him for his behavior; in fact Harry was finding himself a bit envious of the Malfoy heir. An orphan for as long as he could remember; Harry didn't know the love of a parent that would spoil him in such away. He had never had that love and affection. All he had of his parents were the words his aunt and uncle said about them, bad words that Harry had a hard time believing were true, and the words in the book his mother had left behind. All Harry had was words.

These words that he cherished, that he built his life on; he used the words to create parents like the Malfoys that would dote on him. He used these words to soothe his loneliness. He used these words to make him feel better when the rest of the world worked only to make him feel like scum. Draco thought he was boring because all the cared about was words, but Draco didn't understand that words were all he had.

Harry sighed; maybe he could make an effort to befriend the blond boy. Maybe he could put aside his books and the endless stream of words that constantly occupied his mind and make and effort to be a more fun person that Draco would like. He needed Draco to like him so that Lord Malfoy wouldn't send him back to that place where people wasted words. He needed Draco to like him so that he could remain here and learn the magic words that he'd seen Lucius use. He needed Draco to like him so that he wouldn't be so lonely anymore and he wouldn't need his words to make him happy. He just needed Draco to like him.

Tyger, Tyger, burning bright
In the forest of the night
What immortal hand or eye
Dare carve thy perfect symmetry?

~William Blake