Disclaimer: None of the characters belong to me, but to J.K.Rowling.
Author's Note: I was so in awe with all the reviews I got that I totally forgot to put an Author's Note or a disclaimer in front of the last chapter, but since I seldomely say something interesting, anyway, and since really everyone should know that J.K.Rowling came up with all the characters and not me, I don't think it's so bad, but I still decided to write some more information to my story down.
The story takes place in Harry's 6th year, meaning HBP never happened and since I just like him too much Sirius is also still alive. Dumbledore is evil, Voldie is... well, he's still Voldemort, but he's rather nice deep, deep, deep down inside.
emphasis
thoughts
"speech"
/Parseltongue/
So now on with the story, thanks for all my wonderful reviews.
4. MALFOY MANOR
"Wobbly, please, it's boring. I want to do something, anything. I've spent the last week in this room, I can't see it anymore", Harry whined a pleading look on his face.
"The last three days, Master Potter", the house-elf corrected, while putting down a tray of food, "And Master Malfoy ordered that Master Harry mustn't leave the room until he have fully recovered."
"But...", he began to argue again, but was interrupted by a knock on the door.
"May I come in?", Lucius Malfoy inquired and entered after the house-elf opened the door, "How do you feel?"
"I'd feel...", Harry started, but then thought that Mr. Malfoy had been rather nice to him, had saved him from his uncle and probably wouldn't take kindly to such childish behaviour, "Sorry. I feel better, a bit dizzy maybe, but nothing I can't handle. And nothing that requires one more of those awful potions."
Lucius' lips lifted a bit on the edges: "I heard so much. Now, would you want to make a tour through the manor and perhaps a short trip to the park?"
Harry nodded and lifted himself carefully out of the huge four-poster and allowed Malfoy to help him into a black coat with green edges and a warming spell on it, before he slipped on his old sneakers.
Malfoy Manor was huge, most of the ceilings were so high you couldn't even make them out and none of the rooms was smaller than the Dursleys' kitchen and living room put together. There were whole rooms for one sole purpose like relaxing, reading, studying, sleeping, eating, meditation, calming down, healing, bathing, negotiating, working or dancing, which Harry thought was rather unpractical, since the single rooms were seldomly near each other. He would have imagined Malfoy Manor to be either held in dark colours or to be decorated in every way possible, but neither was the case. Most of the rooms they passed on the way to the garden, or park as the Death Eater had called it, looked expensive, impersonal and cold. Harry scowled, it appeared so empty, as if the inhabitants were long gone and only the magic kept it from rotting.
Harry furrowed his brow: "Where do you live, Mr. Malfoy?", he asked quietly as they crossed a living room, illuminated by an ancient chandelier.
Lucius had to mask his confusion: "Why, here of course. This is my home!"
"It doesn't look like a home to me", explained Harry tentatively and made a vague gesture.
"What would you know about a home, Mr. Potter?", Malfoy said defensively, but immediately regretted it as the boy next to him flinched and then said in a small voice: "You're right, I apologise for my manners, maybe it would be better if we made this tour on another day..."
"No, I shouldn't have said it", the Death Eater apologised truthfully, disregarding the Malfoy family rule that clearly stated that Malfoys never apologise, "It was uncalled for."
"It's all right", Harry accepted and smiled a little, "I really would like to see the garden, though!"
Malfoy returned the smile and led him through the foyer to the garden or park, for it really deserved that title, to a white bench near a small river that glided merrily over stones and rocks and down a waterfall.
"I guess, this is more to your liking, isn't it?", the elder Malfoy smirked as he seated himself on the bench, watching in fascination and amusement how the fresh air loosened Harry's tense face into an almost happy smile.
"It's so peaceful", Harry answered, sighing and took a seat next to him, "And it's alive... I know you're dying to asked me a few questions, so go on!"
The Death Eater briefly wondered how he knew, but then his curiosity won: "May I asked since when your uncle treated you like this? And why?"
"I believe you already did, didn't you?", he had dreaded these questions, but he wasn't going to show it, "They were like this as long as I can remember, though it got worse this year, because my relatives didn't take kindly to be threatened by a few of the Order members at King's Cross. As to why: They hate magic in general and as I happen to be a wizard they transfer their hatred onto me. I think they're kind of like you- only the other way round!"
If Malfoys could gape, he would have stared at him in complete and utter bewilderment with his mouth wide open. But Malfoys couldn't gape, it just wasn't in their genes, and so he had to be content with staring at Harry in complete and utter bewilderment with his mouth set in a firm line. How dare he insult him? In his own house nonetheless? Had he really compared him to that violent and disgusting Muggle (not to mention that he had also been incredibly ugly and no-one in their right mind could contend that Malfoys were anywhere near ugly)?
"I didn't mean it like this", the boy interrupted his thoughts, "But you hate Muggles, right? You contempt them. That's what my relatives do, but they also fear me and so they tried to control me as long as they could and when they realised that they were fighting a losing battle, they tried to make me fear them, so that I would never dare to hex them..."
Lucius was once again astonished, but was at least able to articulate a reply: "I would never hurt a child!"
"I know, Mr. Malfoy", was the soft answer.
"Did they succeed?", Malfoy inquired quietly, "Are you scared of them?"
He grinned a little and Malfoy wasn't sure if he was making fun of him or tried to lessen the mood: "Not when I'm awake."
Harry's smile dimmed as he didn't reply and shot him instead a worried and inquiring look: "Have you told anyone about what they did to you? Surely, Dumbledore..."
"I tried to tell him!", his voice was suddenly furious, "I wrote him a letter two years ago, telling him, that they starved me and locked me in the cupboard under the stairs... Guess what he said? I shouldn't be so spoiled, because being the boy-who-lived didn't entitle me to be treated specially in the Muggle World and I should stop bothering him about such nonsense and making up lies about my hard-working family, who were so kind to take me in... He told me that the Dursleys had his every support in what they did and if he ever heard of me telling someone that they abused me, he would look to Sirius being arrested as it surely was his bad influence on me that made me such an attention-seeking and self-centred person. So no, I didn't tell anyone and I advice you to keep your mouth shut about this or you'll really, really regret it, Mr. Malfoy!"
"I won't say a word until you gave your permission", swore the man, "And I apologise for pestering you and assuming I understood. I didn't and I'm not sure if I ever will, but I want to try and if you ever need someone to scare these Muggles to death, I'll be glad to be of help!"
The still slightly pale-looking boy beamed: "Thanks, Mr. Malfoy."
"It's Lucius", offered the Death Eater, "We probably should head back in. Dinner will be ready soon."
They walked back in silence and Harry savoured the peaceful atmosphere in the park. The relatively narrow ways were illuminated by small green lights, which reflected on the water and there were little noises all around them in the bushes and trees, which Harry suspected Malfoy - Lucius - didn't even hear. But to him it proved that there actually was life in Malfoy Manor and this fact calmed him more effectively than any soothing words could have done. He wasn't relieved, really - How could he be relieved if he still was to be married in less than a month? - no, he was grateful that someone had cared enough to ask those questions, that someone tried to understand and that he didn't do a show on pitying him, like Mrs. Weasley or even Ron and Hermione would have. Harry could feel his pity, yes, but he also felt that he did his best to hide it and act normally around him, successfully thanks to his Slytherin traits. Sirius would've told him not to trust a Slytherin and least of all a Malfoy- he smiled softly when the image of his godfather came to his mind. But he hadn't lied when he told the Malfoy patriarch that he knew he wouldn't hurt a child. Not on purpose that is. He loved his son and his wife and his cold exterior was merely to guarantee his social status. And so he trusted him not to tell his secrets.
"Why doesn't Malfoy Manor look like a home to you?", Lucius interrupted the silence and his voice echoed along the dark hallway in front of them.
"Well, it doesn't feel... homey", Harry tried to explain, "More like a museum or a big shopping centre after curfew. It's beautiful and all, but it isn't... breathing. For example, Hogwarts: When you walk around in the middle of the night, even in the vacation, you feel surrounded by magic and life and your own heart beat tells you that there's still someone and you almost expect to see another person waiting beyond the next corner and whether that be good or bad, it gives you that urge to look if you were right or not... Malfoy Manor feels sterile, like you're the only person left and you don't want to look for anyone else, because you almost know that you won't find anybody and you want to save yourself the disappointment... You're always close to hyperventilating, because you sense that the air is, well, only air, and you think that isn't enough for breathing properly... But that's only my opinion."
Lucius hummed but didn't comment otherwise, which he was grateful for and they passed the way to the dining room once again in silence.
The food was spacious and most of it delicious, though Harry refused anything that only even remotely looked like blood, vomit or chalk. There wasn't much that fell in that category, but a boy has got principles, right?
"Can I asked you something?", Harry said and shot a look across the table to where Lucius sat.
"I'd would seem only fair, seeing as I interrogated you all afternoon", answered Lucius and Harry was surprised to hear a small chuckle in his voice.
"Why?", the short word appeared to throw him out of his normal composure quite quickly, and although he was sure that he knew exactly what the young wizard was referring to, he acted as if he was oblivious to that: "Why? There're many whys I could answer, aren't there? But let me guess: Why my house is so 'dead' as you put it? Because it has been for generations of Malfoys and I never really realised what it felt like, because I was used to it since my childhood, and I never truly cared either. Why I invited you to my house? Because you looked lost in that infirmary bed, and even though I don't show it very often, I actually have a heart and for once I listened to it. Why I asked you all those questions? Because I don't like to be the one not knowing what is going on and I was curios. Why I agreed to not inform anyone of that 'incident'? Because I don't plan to make the mistake to turn you into my enemy. But I know, that's not what you wanted to know, am I correct?"- Harry nodded curtly- "What does the Dark Lord have in mind with the contract and what will he gain by it? That's a good question, indeed, and I can only give you the answer that is the most possible in my opinion, for I'm neither the Dark Lord nor have I insight in his mind. The war hasn't been very successful on either part and though Dumbledore probably argues that the Dark side enjoys seeing death and destruction, not even Death Eaters like to see their children get hurt and their friends get killed. The Dark Lord on the other hand can't win a war with less and less followers and although he wants to take over England and get rid of his opponents, I'm pretty sure that he desires more than a life- and peopleless piece of land. So that left him with the only option to somehow turn his enemies into supporters, and his supporters into honourable members of the Wizarding society, so that he would gain more... operating space."
"He couldn't just offer an ordinary contract, which wouldn't involve me having to marry him, could he?", Harry sighed, listlessly pushing some oft the rice on his plate from the left to the right side and back and mixing it with curry sauce and pine-apple.
"No", the Death Eater answered in a voice somewhere between amusement and compassion, "Doing so, would have worsened the situation, seeing as no-one willingly trusts a Death Eater, even though he apparently is on the same side, and not even the whole gold of Gringotts could make anyone see a former Dark Lord as the good guy. Now, to accomplish that, the Dark Lord needs you, because surely the Wizarding World can't mistrust their Saviour and therefor it can't mistrust the Saviour's husband either. If you're able to have faith in him it's the logical conclusion that he is trustworthy and seeing as the Death Eaters can't be worse than the Dark Lord himself, we'll be more than trustworthy as well and they'll welcome us with open arms..."
"You're little plan has only one mayor flaw: The Wizarding World doesn't see me as their little hero and idol. Far from it, they're keen to describe me as a attention-seeking psycho-kid with a hero-complex, who lost his marbles a long time ago and is now most likely a.) mental, b.) dangerous or c.) a combination of a.) and b.). So, I fear your fantasies won't come true", retorted Harry.
"Well, that's at least partly true so we have one other goal: If you can't improve your situation, it's always commendable to weaken your enemies position", Lucius explained with a small smirk gracing his lips.
"Dumbledore", concluded Harry, "He looses me, his little weapon, and the public will hate him for giving up on the boy-who-lived and bargaining me of to the Dark side."
The older Malfoy nodded approvingly and snapped his fingers for the house-elves to take the dishes away: "That's the general idea, yes. Now, I suggest you head back to bed for you're not fully recovered and Severus wanted to come by tomorrow, and you most likely will need all your energy to either hide from him or win a shouting and insulting match against him as neither of you seems to be very fond of the other."
"Snape is coming?", the frail-looking boy asked incredulously, after a short nod, he continued, much to the man's surprise: "You wouldn't have a Pensieve, I could borrow, by any chance?"
The Death Eater seemed to be considering whether he should be indignant that he seemed to assume the Malfoys wouldn't own a Pensieve or astonished about the sudden turn their conversation had taken, so while still considering, he nodded once again (where was that stupid Malfoy eloquence when you needed it, anyway?) and once again called for a house-elf to fetch the required item: "Here you go!", well, that was a complete sentence, albeit a short one, well done, Lucius, next time we'll try something with more than three words, okay, he congratulated himself as he handed him the little dark bowl with strange signs and runes on the outside, "May I ask, why you would need it?", good one, and it actually had some substance in it.
"To store some memory in it, of course", he sent him a cheeky grin, "Good night, Lucius", and with that said, he retired to his room, which he found, after only one wrong corridor taken (he asked one of the portraits).
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