AN: Thank you so much for your wonderful reviews! Please, leave me more of those addictive things :)
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and I do not get paid for writing this story. Please don't sue me.

Warning: Not exactly exemplary behaviour of a certain teenager once again
AN: This is a lot longer than usual. I was thinking about splitting the chapter in two but couldn't since all its parts are so interconnected that it probably wouldn't make much sense when separated. I hope you don't mind me slowing the narrative speed a little in this chapter... I need to give Harry some space to show how his mind works ;)
Enjoy :)

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The room was bathing in thick black shadows penetrated only by a silvery light coming through a window. Wine-coloured curtains were tucked to the sides allowing the moonlight free reign as far as it could reach. It fell on a marble windowsill, slithered across the smooth surface of a black writing desk, then got caught up in a mess of untameable dark locks before finally being sucked into the darkness. A broad mahogany bed occupied by a snoring blond entangled in seal brown satin sheets served as the only reminder of previous night's strange events.

Harry was sitting in his crimson armchair smoking his third cigarette in a row deep in thought. He was now in the complicated and lengthy process of absorbing all the recently gained information and making hopefully reasonable conclusions. He had to start planning as soon as possible. He wouldn't let himself get taken by surprise. This was a unique opportunity to start from scratch, an opportunity to come to a new society with a clean slate, to have people finally base their opinions on his actions and not on unjustified prejudices. An opportunity Harry had never truly expected to be given. He was so excited! He couldn't wait to enter the Wizarding World. Still he was aware it wouldn't be easy and he needed to be adequately prepared. Everything in its time.

First he needed a suitable guide. That was where Lucius came into the picture. Quite soon for Harry's taste. He growled and slumped in his seat drawing on the almost finished cigarette. He'd need to deal with the man in the morning. He was looking forward to watching the blond struggle his way through his hazy memories from last night, which would get rather clear and detailed from a certain point and wouldn't stop nagging him until... Well, it should be fun. Nevertheless, he knew he'd need to make some effort to gain the man's trust. Harry wasn't a fool. It was obvious that Lucius was a respectable, hard-working man and getting smashed most probably wasn't on his list of favourite leisure activities. If the blond were to blame Harry for last night's events, his dependence on Lucius' help could get quite bothersome.

Well, to be honest it was bothersome already. For Harry it had been a long and arduous way to admitting he actually needed the man. He'd even gotten himself to acknowledge the fact that it hadn't been the brightest idea to play with Lucius the way he had. And although the result of his manipulations hadn't been all that unpleasant, Harry had vowed he would never let himself get so out of control ever again. Not with the blond nor with anyone else. As a matter of fact it had been this vow that had stopped him from spelling Lucius' clothes off when he'd been for the hundredth time amusing himself with the image of the man's puzzlement come the morning.

Harry hissed in pain as the cigarette burned away and its hot end reached his fingers. He summoned an ashtray from downstairs and chuckled as it already half-filled landed in his hand. He added his butt to the lot and laid the ashtray aside on the coffee table. He leaned back comfortably against the overstuffed backrest trying to recall where he had stopped in his musings. Yes, Lucius. Blaming him. Right. He didn't expect the man to blame him. At least not for too long. When not intoxicated the blond had shown signs of steady rational thinking and sharp wit. Harry had been fairly astonished by how soon the man had pegged out after getting a bottle within his reach. Something had had to be eating away at the blond for quite some time. Something to do with his lord, his mysterious master.

It was irking Harry to no end that he didn't know a thing about the man, teen or whatever he was. The only useable information he had on the wizard was that he was powerful, possibly dangerous and his magic was able to awake something wild and sinful in Harry. He didn't like the last fact one bit. He wouldn't be controlled by anyone! Yet it was true. And all he could do was keep coming up with various rather feeble hypothesis. Lucius had let slip that they were somewhat alike, Harry and this master. Considering that, Harry was sure he wouldn't pass unnoticed by the wizard. In the end one of them would find his way to the other, even if drawn by mere curiosity. At least what Harry had felt of the man's magic promised that much. However, it was meaningless to speculate about the wizard now. It would only annoy him further and take him to misleading conclusions.

Back to Lucius. There was this… soft spot… could he word it that way? Well, Lucius seemed to have a soft spot for him. Wasn't that endearing? A few times since their first encounter in the bar Harry had noticed the man spacing out for almost imperceptible instants as if high on something. Harry had told himself he'd had no idea for how long the blond had been in the bar and just how many glasses had gone through his hands by the time he'd come. Now, he had to wonder. If the man had been already drunk when they'd met, there was no way he'd have made it through the rest of the evening and drinks still able to form a coherent word. Harry suspected that Lucius' blackouts had had something to do with his magic, though he'd need to test this theory. Had it perhaps been the appeal of Harry's magic that Lucius meant when saying he'd reminded him of his lord? One way or another, Lucius had a soft spot for him. Funny.

Still he hadn't dared to hope for Lucius to simply give in and play along when he had taken him from the bar by force and demanded answers. He had been prepared for anger and a thorough questioning. He had even foreseen a fight. Yet the man had gone along with his wishes and patiently as if talking to his son – at least that was how Harry imagined a father-son conversation – explained every single thing Harry asked about or seemed not to understand completely. And then they had actually discussed a few interesting topics concerning the Wizarding World. Harry had been fascinated by the concept of goblins managing the whole financial system. He couldn't decide what to make of a hundred-and-thirteen-year-old nuisance of a man handling a school-castle hidden away in the middle of Scotland. And called Hogwarts. Should he find it hilarious or unsettling? Then there'd been the matter of wands and wandless magic as Lucius had called it. He'd have to think on that later. And finally Harry had been most interested in the political scene, which had also been the point where Lucius had gotten somewhat vague in some of his responses and started looking rather uncomfortable. Still no one had ever talked with Harry like that. And he appreciated it. Quite a lot. No need to get sappy here. Right.

For some time he pondered on extracting his unfortunate slip of control from Lucius' mind but decided against it. He wanted help, honesty and trust from the man. He might as well be fair and treat him with some respect. It would be cowardly of him to avoid taking responsibility for his actions. And now he was getting not only sappy but also righteous. Jeez. Weariness was getting the better of him.

Harry yawned. From the armchair he reached for the first drawer of his writing desk, pulled it open and took out an old-looking silver pocket watch. Half past three. He could definitely use some sleep, though he would have more than enough time for that rotting the whole week in the orphanage.

He stood up, stretched himself and put the pocket watch back in the drawer. Then he walked alongside the rows of bookshelves and soon completely disappeared in the darkness. A tiny ball of light popped up in the air over his head in the next second. The room truly did seem endless. It took almost a whole minute until he reached the wall. He made his way into the very last aisle and crouched down to the lowest rack near the floor.

It was filled with notebooks. Some were bound in leather, some were common paperbacks and quite a few looked rather worse for wear. Harry took out one that was tucked away in the far corner. It was pretty thick, had a midnight blue leather cover and appeared new and untouched. There were silver letters imprinted on its spine reading The Other World.

As he walked back to the illuminated side of the room Harry ran his index finger over the writing and it immediately changed to The Wizarding World. As soon as he got to the desk he conjured a carved black wooden chair and sat on it. The ball of light grew bigger, floated over the desk and stayed hanging above the middle of it. Harry grabbed his beige fountain pen, opened the notebook on the first blank page and started scribbling away on it enthusiastically.

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Couldn't Narcissa wake him up before drawing the bloody curtains apart? The sun was shining right in his face and was giving him a fierce headache. He wanted to call Dobby but found his mouth and throat so dry he doubted he could make a sound. With his eyes still closed he reached for the glass of water the house-elf always left on the bedside table. When his hand swept through empty space for the fifth time still not hitting the glass nor the table he tried to open his eyes. The heavy lids wouldn't move and stayed stubbornly glued together for so long that Lucius started coming to terms with the idea of staying blind as a mole for the rest of his life. Finally they gave in to his prodding and lazily fluttered open.

He stared dully at the too white ceiling for ages. Where was the canopy? He snapped his head to the left cringing at the pain that shot through his neck at the swift movement. Long stripes of black and blacker, the blacker ones with red patches in the middle. That was not the wardrobe he was expecting. He blinked and when the picture wouldn't change he frowned in confusion.

"Good morning," greeted an amused voice from his right and the muscles in Lucius' neck protested once again as he hastily searched for its source. There was a dark-haired young man sprawled casually across a crimson red armchair his legs crossed and dangling over one of the armrests. He had a closed book in his hand a finger stuck between the pages and a far too smug grin on his face for Lucius' liking. His eyes locked with the expectant bright green gaze and as if triggered by the contact it all came to him in a rush of blurred images. The unsuccessful meeting, the first drinks, the alluring magic, the intriguing conversation, drinks, the Apparation, drinks, what seemed like hours of explaining and debating, drinks, and then... Oh, Merlin! He could feel the teasing hand on his thigh, the legs wound tightly around his waist, the rock hard arousal pressing against his own... He felt himself harden from the bare memories and was suddenly grateful for the sheets covering him. This was absurd! And humiliating. Malfoys didn't blush. Then why did his cheeks feel so hot as an alarming suspicion flashed through his head? He hurriedly looked under the covers and sighed in relief when his eyes found the longed-for trousers in place.

A poorly suppressed chuckle sounded through the room and its lascivious quality didn't exactly help Lucius' current situation.

"May I use your bathroom?" he asked trying to appear unconcerned as he arduously climbed out of the bed.

"Be my guest," offered the boy graciously, though not bothering to hide his knowing smirk.

When Lucius raised a questioning eyebrow, Harry tilted his head to his left nonchalantly and Lucius saw a door appear where only unimpaired wall had been just a moment ago. He left it without comment and headed for the door feeling the lad's watchful gaze on him the whole time.

Lucius took care of himself as quickly as he could and returned to the room desperately forcing his dignity to stay intact. Harry had already conjured a second red armchair across from his own and Lucius took his seat without a word.

Compared to only a few minutes ago, the boy had a discreet air to him as if trying to make Lucius more comfortable. It seemed as if he had decided he'd had his fun and now it was time to get down to business. Although Lucius didn't know what to think of the teen's change of attitude, he couldn't help relaxing slightly.

"How are you feeling?" the boy had the nerve to ask. Lucius just gave him an unimpressed look, though Harry didn't appear put out by his lack of response.

"Do you want me to take the headache away?" asked the lad matter-of-factly.

Lucius swiftly masked his incredulity with a thoughtful expression and slowly nodded.

This time he sensed the magic coming before it started taking effect, not like before when the boy hadn't had his approval. It appeared friendly and gentle as it neared him. Then it embraced him. His head was immediately cuddled in a soft cocoon of warm and soothing energy. It felt heavenly! As the last prickles of pain were washed away by the balmy waves and Harry's magic gradually retreated, Lucius couldn't supress a sigh of loss.

He was now mercilessly reminded that it hadn't been only alcohol making him want to touch and pleasure the boy yesterday. He also had to acknowledge that his obstinate attraction to Harry - or was it the teen's magic playing tricks on him again? - hadn't been just yesterday's issue. Yet he couldn't think about it. At least not in the boy's presence. It was too dangerous. It was so damn irritating what the lad could do to him, how much control he could have over Lucius. But he was having none of this nonsense. Now with his head clear and sharp again he wouldn't let himself be fooled anymore.

"Thank you," he said truly grateful.

The boy nodded in acknowledgement and looked at him strangely before asking:

"Do you remember your promise from last night?"

"Rather clearly," Lucius responded. "Among other things," he added bitterly and regretted it instantly. The moment the words left his lips he could see Harry's so far perfect polite restraint shatter to pieces.

"Well, good for you," noted the boy innocently. However Lucius didn't believe that was all he had to say. And it wasn't. "Or should I say good for your libido, not so good for your conscience?" teased the lad mock thoughtfully.

"Aren't you quiet full of yourself?" snapped Lucius unable to help himself.

Harry seemed to swallow a spicy comeback and came out with a challenging smirk instead.

"Maybe a little bit. It never killed anyone," he cocked his head to one side playfully. "As if you're the one to talk," he finished cheekily his warm one would say fond eyes locking with Lucius'.

Lucius had to laugh. It was an honest and freeing kind of laughter that swept away most of his worries about the previous night and left him light-hearted. There had been a part of him that had linked all the unexpected, shocking, humiliating and all in all disagreeable events and emotions of this past night and labelled them Harry. That part had just died under the boy's glance. Harry wasn't going for - and succeeding in - humiliating him at all. He was just playing around and that was all there was to it. Yes, he was surprisingly powerful and devilishly intelligent but he was still only a teenager testing his limits. Yesterday in the bar and for the entire evening as well as this morning. Oh, he'd been such a fool.

However, the boy's quirks weren't the only thing that had been having Lucius troubled. He hadn't made it to the manor last night and even though Narcissa wasn't the jealous type, she wasn't a harmless naïve sheep either. If he somehow managed to make her suspicious, using extreme methods to discover the truth wasn't foreign to her. It wouldn't be his first time under his wife's Legilimency nor under her secret dose of Veritaserum. If she were to find out about this... madness, well, let's say it would be unpleasant.

And there was the Dark Lord. He feared to even think about his Lord getting to know that Lucius had not only been unable to accomplish his task - which wasn't his fault at all since the other negotiator hadn't shown up - but had also disclosed the classified information of his return to a complete stranger. The Dark Lord may be tolerant to Lucius' mistakes, though this would definitely hurt.

When he returned his attention to the boy, for a fraction of a second he thought he caught sight of a calculating expression. He blinked. No, Harry looked bored, utterly bored waiting for Lucius to finally say something.

"Exactly how strong is the spell that keeps me from revealing last night's events to a third person?" he obliged.

Instantly the boy's expression changed from bored to intrigued.

"I've been wondering whether you'd ask," Harry informed a smirk tugging at one corner of his mouth. "So you are married after all," he concluded to Lucius' bewilderment.

"How do you know I'm not asking to get more information on the spell and planning on breaking it?" inquired Lucius, still astonished by the boy's right assumption and trying to follow the train of thought that led Harry to predict and assess his behaviour so confidently.

"If you wanted to break the spell, you wouldn't have asked at least not directly. You would try to find your way around it on your own first. You wouldn't risk warning me by asking, because then I could take precautions and strengthen the spell or react violently if I believed you could threaten me with the information you possessed. Asking would be your last standby solution," Harry explained. "Well, if you gave the matter at least some thought and weren't a complete imbecile," he added daring Lucius to oppose him.

"And how do you know I don't want to break it?" questioned Lucius curiously. He couldn't but agree with Harry's reasoning.

"I never claimed you didn't want to or wouldn't want to break it eventually. I merely implied it hadn't been the reason why you'd asked," clarified the boy flatly, obviously not interested in discussing the matter any further.

"So, back to your promise. Do you intend to keep it?" inquired Harry changing the subject.

"It depends on what you expect when asking for help in the society. If you demand private meetings with high politicians, flattery in the right ears and my noticeable support in public, I'm not the man you're searching for," answered Lucius earnestly.

"I hope I'm not that inept. All I ask is for you to help me enter the society. That means arranging an invitation to a social event and be at my disposal for said occasion. I'd prefer for the event to be somewhat significant, so that I would have a chance to make acquaintances with influential figures. Although if you are apprehensive of being associated with me in the future, I can make do with something less public," explicated the boy in a business-like manner which had Lucius quite astounded.

He thought it over and decided:

"I'd be willing to do that for you, though first I'd like to know a little more about you. Tell me about your family situation, your education-," he wanted to go on but was cut off by Harry's response.

"Sounds fair," nodded the boy. "My family situation is rather non-existent, since I have no family. I've lived at Winter's Orphanage far longer than can be healthy. I suppose my current education level could be compared to the one of a secondary school graduate when taken from the muggle point of view. There's not much you can do in an orphanage, if you aren't fond of playing silly pointless games or bullying other kids, you know? Read and study is pretty much the only thing there is for you, if you don't want to die of boredom."

It was no surprise, really. There was no way the teen was a mudblood. No mudblood could hold such power. As Harry hadn't known about the wizarding world, there was little to no chance that his parents were alive. That could be a delicate matter so he'd ask about Harry's parents later, when he had answers to his other questions. Concerning education, Lucius didn't really care about muggle titles. It was sufficient to know the boy had a brain in his head and knew how to use it.

Now since he couldn't judge the boy's character by his attitude to his parents, he'd have to adapt to the situation and work with a group of kids.

"In children's hierarchy there are four types of children. The bullies, the bullies' cronies, the bullied and occasionally the sympathetic and for some reason tolerated friends of the bullied. I can't imagine you as any other type than the bully," uttered Lucius thoughtfully.

"You make it sound as if kids ran their own politics," Harry laughed.

"And don't they?" implied Lucius.

"When you put it the way you have, it sounds like they do. Although in fact they don't. Let's ask a simple question. What's the basis of politics? There's of course a complex and much more sophisticated answer but essentially, politics is based on the choice of opinion. You can have free choice of opinion. In such case you use the acts of persuasion and manipulation to achieve your goals. Then you can have limited or no choice of opinion. Meaning you use force, ploy or sycophancy to get your way. Now try to find a corresponding pattern in the workings of a group of children. Do you see the difference? For example, what can your "bullied" do to accomplish their goals? Will it help them if they use any of the means I named in their position? Of course not, because they are along with the "bullies" children and therefore can't think rationally. Their motives may seem at times ridiculously simple, though sometimes they are only illogical whims of given moment. You can't apply the rules of politics on children because where there's no sense, there are no rules," the boy set forth and like an experienced conversationalist waited for his words to sink in.

Lucius had felt his opinion change on its own accord during Harry's speech. Although the topic was of no great importance and Lucius had never truly given it much thought, it was scary what the teen could do. The lad was good, he had to give him that. Where had the kid gotten such insight? Now he understood what the boy had meant when he had sarcastically "hoped not to be that inept". He was good.

"But you were curious about my stand in the "children's hierarchy" as you called it," Harry snickered. "Bullies generally choose their victims between the weak that can't defend themselves. I find no satisfaction in winning over someone I consider weak. I guess I make a whole new type of children then. The ones that don't care about petty fights sufficiently not to take part in them and capable of one effective demonstration of what will happen to anyone stupid enough to try to force them. In other words the blissfully ignorant and wisely ignored in return," the boy finished giving Lucius a toothy grin.

"That sounds like a dangerous type," noted Lucius.

"I suppose it is," Harry chuckled.

They sat in silence for a while before Harry asked:

"Want some coffee?"

"Yes, I'd like that," Lucius nodded. He had no objection to continuing his questioning over a hot drink.

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That went well, thought Harry standing up and letting the oak spiral staircase appear in the middle of the room near the wall to his left. Lucius had been as expected fishing for information. It was satisfying to see that although he had in fact given the man next to nothing he had made Lucius feel as if he cooperated without second thought. It would stop the man from prying too much. Too much being the key word. He'd still have to see the blond out as soon as possible. It was dangerous to stay in Lucius' presence in his current position. As much as he hated it, he was dependant on the man's help and since Lucius had agreed to Harry's conditions he was now free to ask some favours in return. If they were to be answers, Harry wouldn't give them up without a fight. The less the man knew about him, the better. He trusted his spell to keep Lucius' mouth shut but was aware he couldn't afford to leave anything to chance. He almost snickered out loud. It had been so easy to make Lucius forget about his original intention when he'd asked about the spell's strength. Well, why should he give the man undesirable leads when he didn't have to? So easy.

He had to wonder, if Lucius' master would be able to feel Harry's magic on Lucius as he had felt the mark on the man. That could set the wizard on Harry's track. Should he be scared or excited? If the man is smart enough to work out the way around the spell, I'd be delighted to meet him. So if he finds me, he'll practically spare me the work of searching for him. I shouldn't make it too easy for him though. He smirked.

Now he needed to startle Lucius out of his questioning mode to ask some questions of his own. All it would require was a sufficient distraction and Harry was sure he would be provided with a pretty effective one soon enough.

Harry headed for the staircase motioning for Lucius to follow him and simultaneously summoning the ashtray and a rectangular package wrapped in brown paper from his writing desk.

"Can't you just conjure it?" asked Lucius looking hopeful.

"No, it's impossible to conjure food and drinks," Harry informed suspecting the blond had already known. He observed Lucius closely and had to fight back a chuckle when the man suppressed a sigh of relief.

"How can you be so sure it's impossible? You simply might not have worked out how to do it," suggested the blond trying to sound indifferent but Harry could still make out a slight trace of irritation.

"I'm quite full of myself, remember?" said Harry walking down the stairs snickering quietly as he heard the other man snort behind his back.

The image that greeted him when he entered the door wasn't at all unexpected, though that didn't make it any less amusing. The room could be almost considered a work of art it was such an incredible mess. Someone had had to work really hard to put it in its present state of absolute chaos. Said someone was currently in the tiny kitchen across the room grovelling on his knees and seemed to be trying to fit his head in the microscopic gap between the ancient cooker and the floor.

"Morning, old man," Harry called out to the crouched figure.

"Morning Mr Perfect," mumbled the man automatically.

"Seems I can relish doing the cleaning again," Harry pronounced as clearly as he could. It worked, he knew it would.

The man scrambled to his feet rather hastily.

"Morning Mr Perfect," he bellowed once more. He picked up a cup of coffee from the sink and set off jumping from the kitchen towards them, the mud-coloured liquid slopping wildly from the cup in his hand.

"Lucius, meet the one and only Gerald Owen Sanderson," Harry introduced theatrically noting a flicker of recognition in Lucius' eyes at the name. Curious. "He's nuts," he added quite needlessly.

Before Lucius could react Mr Sanderson addressed him in an accusing voice:

"Mr Blondie why did you steal my ashtray?" asked the old man ignoring the glass bowl in Harry's hand.

"Lucius didn't steal anything. I borrowed it last night," he explained dispassionately, trying very hard to keep a straight face seeing Lucius' displeased scowl from the corner of his eye. He handed the ashtray to the old man, who accepted it excitedly and started to study it closely sinking on the flowered sofa-bed.

"Blondie? Seriously?" huffed Lucius indignantly.

"It's not the worst you could get, believe me," Harry assured him supressing his amusement.

"How come you are Mr Perfect?" wondered Lucius.

"Isn't that obvious?" implied Harry with a smirk.

A smile tugged at Lucius' lips until he started scrutinizing their surroundings. Then his expression changed to one of poorly concealed disgust.

"What is this place?" asked the man his tone far from showing polite interest.

"Let's take this to the sitting room, shell we?" suggested Harry not offended in the slightest turning back to the staircase and opening the first door to his right.

It was a rather small and modestly furnished but cosy room with an open fireplace and a balcony. There was only one round table with four plain padded chairs around all in the warm shades of cherry wood.

"Make yourself at home, I'll be back with the coffee," said Harry putting the brown paper package down on the table and leaving Lucius in the room by himself.

He walked through Mr Sanderson's room noticing the man had already lit himself a cigarette and was now puffing on it contentedly sprawled over the sofa-bed the glass ashtray in his hand.

"We'll be leaving soon, old man," Harry notified making his way to the kitchen and letting the door fall shut behind him. He conjured two simple white cups and filled them with water, which he heated to the boiling point with a quick spell. Then he added the coffee, made the liquid stir for a bit before cooling it to a drinkable temperature. Heading to the sitting room, he swiftly glanced at the grandfather clock near the staircase. Ten fifteen. He wouldn't even have to lie. Perfect.

Placing the cups on the table he settled in the chair opposite Lucius. He raised a questioning eyebrow at the man when he stared at Harry expectantly.

"An underage wizard and an insane old muggle, you have to admit that you two aren't exactly a pair of housemates one comes across every day," Lucius finally implied.

"I suppose you are right," acknowledged Harry suspecting where the man was going with this but not willing to help him get there.

"What is the relationship between the two of you?" inquired Lucius.

"I need him and he's better off having me around," explained Harry vaguely. Just great. So much for startling Lucius out of his questioning mode.

"So you aren't related?" the man queried looking relieved.

"No, I've already told you I have no family," Harry reminded.

"How can you live with him like this?" asked Lucius shaking his head uncomprehendingly.

"Oh, you mean the mess? The place was spotless yesterday afternoon. The old man can be sprightly and surprisingly creative when he wants to though," snickered Harry.

"It's not just the mess. You seem to have a decent flat upstairs. Considering you are an orphan I have to wonder where you got the finances to buy such an elegant place. On the other hand, what I've seen down here is a disgrace. How can you live in this house, know what's below you and-," Lucius' words were drowned out by Harry's laughter.

He couldn't help himself. Lucius was just so deliciously upper class. Thoroughly spoilt by years of floating on his cloud of infinite luxury and now appropriately outraged by imperfection interfering with his flawless little world.

"I wasn't lying when I told you I lived at Winter's. The room upstairs isn't a flat, it's my Office and it is in every way possible a work of magic," Harry informed somewhat proudly when he composed himself. "As for the rest of your speech, I am quite confused about what your point is. Is it that if I don't mind living above such disgrace as you put it I have no morals? Or is it that in given case I have no taste?" he asked bluntly.

Lucius seemed properly affronted and Harry was pleasantly surprised. He didn't expect the man to take the jab. Maybe there was some ethics in the blond after all.

"What exactly are you implying? I have no interest in muggle filth. My only point is a wizard shouldn't live among such scum, that's all," Lucius retorted.

That had Harry taken aback, though he managed to keep his expression unaffected. He might not have been reading the man as well as he had thought. Muggle filth. That's harsh. What Harry found disgraceful was the narrow-minded attitude to unknown and new, the envy and covetousness, the always shifting suggestible public opinion... He could enumerate thousands of things he hated with a passion. But the people wouldn't be one of them! It would be most ignorant to hate the people. Some were brilliant and kind and insightful and hard-working and loving and funny and smart and... Hating them all was just absurd. Or was he naïve? No, after all the hatred he received from this world he was sure he could rely on his judgment. If he was able not to despise the people that had with only few exceptions brought nothing good only obstacles to his life, there had to be something to it. And the man sitting across from him didn't seem to see it. Were all wizards so hostile towards muggles? If yes, was there any way he could make them understand how wrong they were? Oh, cut the crap. You are getting way ahead of yourself! Do what you need to do first, then think about your noble rubbish. Right. He needed to enter the Wizarding World before changing it. He had to laugh at himself internally for getting so carried away. He'd tell Lucius what he thought of the matter one day. Just not today.

"I'm not implying anything. Now let us move to more pressing issues," he said conciliatorily and paused to search Lucius' face for evidence that the man had calmed down sufficiently for Harry to safely make requests. Finding what he'd been looking for he continued carefully choosing every word: "I've been wondering how the Wizarding World deals with people like me. You know, orphans," Harry said testing the waters.

Lucius pondered it for a while. Then he sighed and answered: "To tell you the truth I don't really know. There aren't any wizarding orphanages that I'm aware of. I suppose it is always considered a responsibility of the closest relative to take care of a child that lost both parents. In case there is no living family left, the Ministry finds a suitable guardian."

Harry had anticipated as much and even though the solution seemed better than the muggle one, he cursed it thoroughly. He didn't need a bloody guardian. He didn't need anyone controlling his decisions, questioning his actions and demanding explanations of his motives, thank you very much. Although he doubted he would be treated badly, he was sure the wizard or witch would always have the upper hand over him and he just couldn't have that. It had taken too much effort to arrange living conditions in this world that made him somewhat independent to rush somewhere he could be deprived of his freedom so easily. There had to be another way and he would find it. Later.

"And I presume that it is compulsory for an underage wizard to attend school?" inquired Harry.

"Yes, until you reach seventeen years of age, it is unavoidable unless you hire a private tutor," informed Lucius still in the dark about where Harry was going with this.

"If it wouldn't be too much trouble, could you arrange a meeting with someone who is familiar with these legal issues, who would be able to assist me with filling the required forms and taking the best course of action? I would appreciate a discreet person who can be trusted," requested Harry politely.

"Yes, that can be easily taken care of. But tell me. What do I gain by doing you these favours? What will you do to pay me back?" challenged Lucius.

"Let's say I owe you one," offered Harry smirking confidently setting his magic free for an instant now that he was sure of the effect it had on Lucius knowing that otherwise his response would sound lame and intentionally vague.

Lucius supressed a gasp as the powerful wave of energy hit his senses, then studied Harry for a moment with an unreadable expression which turned into a calculating one when he concluded:

"Alright, I'll do it. I know just the man. Should I send him over to… Winter's Orphanage, was it? Would Thursday be satisfactory? Concerning your other request I'll have let you know via letter by the end of the week," Lucius informed in a business-like manner.

"It's a deal," nodded Harry contentedly. "Now if you don't have other urgent matters to discuss, I have to be at the orphanage by eleven," he said rising from his chair.

"Actually, I wanted to ask you how I should arrange these meetings for you when I am under a spell that prevents me from talking about your requests," Lucius wondered somewhat triumphant about the fact that he'd found a flaw in Harry's planning.

"I've already cancelled it, there shouldn't be any problems," answered Harry concealing his amusement. Although he didn't want to give out any more information than necessary about the spell, he had to admit that this question was reasonable and he had expected Lucius to ask.

"What do you mean, you cancelled it?" inquired Lucius looking horrified.

"I doubt your wife will be able to extract anything about yesterday night from your mind by any means," Harry chuckled. "Still, you should be able to reveal what will be needed," explained Harry as vaguely as he could.

Lucius stared at him before snapping out of his shocked stupor and asking dully:

"How the hell do you know about my wife?"

"Well since gay marriage wasn't legal last time I checked and you didn't object when I said you were married, I assumed your spouse was a woman." He tilted his head to one side thoughtfully and then continued: "Even if the law's different in the Wizarding World, you haven't said a word about last night, nor have you tried to jump me again so far so... Do you really want to talk about this now that you are not under the spell anymore?" by the time Harry finished Lucius was squirming in his seat uncomfortably and his cheeks had a pink tinge to them. Still Harry kept his amusement in check. He wanted the man willing to help him, not furious.

"Although I've found your company very enjoyable, I'm sure you have places to be, people to see and otherwise be your busy influential self," concluded Harry standing up this time more resolutely, snatching the package from the table and walking over to the door with Lucius on his heels.

When they made their way through the long dark corridor and Lucius was about to walk down the stairs to have more space for Apparation, Harry held out the package for him to take.

"Should you find the time and desire to broaden your horizons…" said Harr with a smirk leaving the man standing confused with the package in his hand and shutting the door in his face.

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After Apparating to Malfoy Manor Lucius started walking briskly down the shadowed empty corridor leading to his study. He had letters to write concerning Harry's requests among other things. Shaking his head over the brat's infuriating antics he ripped the brown paper to examine the contents of the package the lad had given him.

As he touched the object inside, there was a surge of magic enveloping him and then swiftly disappearing leaving him with doubts if it really had happened. It was Harry's magic, that much he could feel, but what had it done? For all he knew it could have been a tracking spell or some kind of insurance that he would truly do what they had agreed on. And it could have been nothing as well, just an attempt to make him think those things. Since he couldn't tell though… Damn the boy was smart.

He turned his attention to the charmed object. It was a thick book with a picture of a man in a weird hat with a pipe dangling from his lips on the front cover. The golden writing on its spine read Sir Arthur Conan Doyle – The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes.

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AN: So, what do you think? Hungry for your opinions here, don't let me starve ;)
AN: About the length... Would you prefer longer chapters and slightly slower updating speed or the other way around? :)