"Have you seen Draco?" Lucius asked, masking his unease with a glower. Partaking in evil plots against his own kin was nerve-wracking even to Lucius. But this was for the boy's own good. So of course he shouldn't feel awkward or guilty about it. Ha! A Malfoy feeling guilty! The only reason he was keeping this plot to himself was out of refinement, not guilt. Only hooligans went around announcing their evil plots to anyone willing to listen. And Lucius was not a hooligan. He was much more like a tyrant, or…well, something more important-sounding.

In any case, his forced stoniness was unnecessary, Narcissa was much too busy noticing her evening gown to notice his growing worry.

"He and Harry went for a walk of the grounds."

"Damn it. I had wanted to get started early…"

"Get started with what?" Narcissa asked distractedly, holding different fur collars to her face in the mirror.

"Oh…er…just, you know. Bonding." Lucius grit out. He was still stinging from Zabini's off-hand comment regarding him and his warmth-ness towards his only son.

"Oh good!"

Lucius sat on the edge of the bed and wrung his hands together and did what he could only in front of his wife. He doubted himself.

"I'm a good father, aren't I? Better than my father, right?"

Narcissa heard the distress in his voice and paused in trying on earrings, looking at her husband with concern.

"Oh, darling…of course you're…better than your father. I mean…you're father was hardly ever around. And when he was around—my god he was such a bastard! I mean…even more bastardly than most Slytherins, and not in the good, endearing kind of bastardly way, either. I mean, he was a real jackass."

"Exactly! I'm not a jackass, am I?"

"…Well…"

"Well what?!"

"Well, are we talking about in general, or in specific relationships?"

"Am I a jackass father?"

"You…have your moments…"

"Oh god." Lucius groaned, dropping his head into his hands. "I gave Draco a Daddy-Complex and thus pushed him into the arms of strange men and Muggle drugs as he struggles to find the love I denied him as a small child!"

"Oh I don't know if I'd go that far. I mean, he didn't join the Death Eaters, so there's a good sign, right?"

Lucius cringed at the thought. Following the Dark Lord had seemed like a perfectly reasonable endeavor back before Scarhead got his scar, but after the Dark Lord's fall, and then his return to the living…well, even Lucius could tell when a man had gone completely off his rocker. Purging the wizarding world of undeserving Mudbloods? Sure. Manic obsession with a seventeen year old boy? Not so cool. Not to mention that, once you got to know the Dark Lord, he was so nouveau-riche. The man had absolutely no tact or grace anymore, not like he did back before the creepified resurrection.

"If I had kept Death-Eating, do you think he would have, too?"

"Absolutely."

"Uggghhh, I'm going to be sick. I mean, yeah, I wanted him to be obedient, but not to the point of stupidity! Just because I make stupid decisions sometimes, doesn't mean he should make them too out of allegiance to me! That's not Slytherin at all!"

"Yes, but you never taught him to judge your decisions as stupid or not. If you said it, it was right. You said Death Eaters were good, and so he automatically believed you! That right there—that's you being a jackass father."

"Ohhh, but that makes it all so much more difficult! Why can't parenting be easy?" Lucius pouted.

"If you want easy parenting, then get a doll, not a baby. We had him, he's here, you gave him whatever complex thing you were talking about, so now you've got to un-give it to him."

"But how?!"

"Figure it out. If you can do it you can undo it."

"That's not true at all."

"Suck it up. Now go find your son and bond! Bond for all you're worth!"

XXX

Lucius tried to not laugh and cheer on his way to his study.

Excellent! Most excellent! Now Narcissa would think nothing of his extended use of his son's time—time in which to adequately get his son back on the Malfoy track. No more black-haired scar freaks loafing about the Manor, no more faded T-shirts or trainers squeaking on the marble flooring, no more curious poking about by gawky teenage son-mongers!

In addition to that, Draco would be too busy bonding with him to shag Potter (God willing), and this would give Zabini enough time to work on his angle to this plot.

Oh if only he were in a secluded enough part of the castle to hug himself!

But no time for that, no time. Had to find those boys. Who knew what they could be up to, left so long to their own devices? Potter was probably teaching Draco something filthy and lewd right about now, dragging him down into sexual destitution. Agh! He might be making Draco beg! Malfoy's never begged! Draco could be saying 'please' at this very moment!!

XXX

"Pllllleeeeeeaaaaaaasssssssseeeeeee, Harry! Please, please, please!" Draco whined, stomping his feet petulantly with each plea.

"We haven't the time! We have to get ready for the Christmas party!"

"That's plenty of time! Please—I'll dress fast! I won't gel my hair or do anything special to my face," Draco was having a hard time even saying this, choking over his completely un-meant proposition. "I'll just throw on whatever dress robe is out, I don't care, just please give me one more good, lasting, soul-splitting fuck before I have to go without for Merlin knows how long!"

"Please don't do this to me, Draco. You know we don't have time!"

"Just a quickie, then."

"You're parents will be looking for us by now."

"They'll be doing no such thing!"

"We can come back, as soon as we can, we'll come back." Harry promised, closing the door to the barn carefully.

"Oh, that'll be forever! I want you noooowwww!"

"Well then I guess you'll just have to learn a little patience." Draco's eyes went deadly wide, and if he had hackles, they'd be raised right now.

Despite the danger of the situation, Harry got in close against Draco, pushing him against the side of the barn, molding his body against the boy, grinding their hips together, whispering against the parted lips.

"Show me a little patience and I promise to repay you in a most magnificent way tonight."

"Getting a little cocky, now, aren't you?"

"Well, you writhing and moaning underneath me tends to do wonderful things for my ego." Harry smiled, kissed the boy deeply, and pulled away. Draco pouted, but let it pass. He had always preferred instant gratification to delayed, but fooling around with Harry had taught him that the latter had certain unalienable perks. Even now he could tell his blood would be keeping up with its burning pulse throughout the day until his magnificent repayment was reaped.

He did a quick hop and a jump ensemble that he used to get into step with Harry and wrapped his arms around the boy's stomach.
"When we get married you'll have to do what I say. If I say I want a proper shagging you'll have to give it to me, on the spot, no putting it off in lieu of Christmas parties or family luncheons."

"That's what you think, eh?" Harry chuckled, putting an arm tightly around Draco's shoulders.

"Yep. I know you. As soon as I change my name, you'll be putty in my hand. Someone will call me Mr. Potter and you'll jump me where I'm standing."

"You're probably right. But you'd do the same if someone called me Mr. Malfoy."

"Mr. Malfoy, your hands are cold. Wow! Even when I say it I want to jump you."

"Let me try. Mr. Potter, your nose is turning pink. Hm, very interesting sensation indeed." The boys laughed and with a quick peck to the cheek Draco let loose of his future husband in order to hold hands with the boy.

They very rarely held hands, and they usually did it in sarcasm, in order to say, "We are the stereotypical teenage couple." Now the act seemed to take on a different meaning. Now it seemed to say, "Soon, this hand will have a ring on it," and this meaning made luxurious shivers shimmy up Draco's spine and he wanted to do something loud and exuberant—shout or sing our laugh out loud. Instead he smiled and let Harry squeeze his hand happily.

X

"Is my nose that pink?"

"Very pink. Umbridge pink."

"Yuck." Draco grimaced, hiding his nose away in a thick scarf from the coat closet.

There was a faint pop and then Harry let out an echoing yelp. Draco jerked up in alarm, hand flashing for his wand and a terrifying thought flipped through his mind.

He's dead and now I'll be broken hearted and waste away from grief.

But Harry seemed fine, he had fallen back against the double doors, and was breathing harshly, but Draco couldn't see what had inspired such obvious panic. It was only a House Elf.

"Yes, Mepsy?" Draco asked, ignoring his silly fiancée—fiancée! Not boyfriend anymore, no siree! At once Draco was taken over with an odd desire to tell Mepsy that he'd just been proposed to, to tell everyone, to put an add out in the Prophet: Malfoy Heir Engaged to Boy-Who-Lived!

"Err…Master Malfoy is wanting to speak to you in his study, sir…" Mepsy stated with a low bow, glancing with worry over to Harry as the boy recovered.

"That will be all." Draco said, and the house elf disappeared. Draco let down his austere airs and started laughing. "What was that?"

"Sorry," Harry murmured, running his hand through his hair with embarrassment.

"Were you seriously terrified by my house elf? Seriously?"

"Shut up. I…I forgot that you had them…"

"What?"

"Well, I haven't seen any around this whole time! I just forgot…"

"You are very silly."

"I just don't see why anyone would need House Elves…I mean, magic makes everything so easy as it is."

"Let's not get into that. You're never going to get me to give up my House Elves, and you can tell Hermoine that, too!"

"I wonder what your dad wants…" Harry said, mostly to get off this subject. House Elves was one of those subjects that Harry assumed he and Draco would never come to agreement on, much like the Muggle-born argument, the Slytherin-was-a-god argument, the Snape-is-really-a-swell-guy argument, and many others.

Draco gave him a look that clearly said I'm so not fooled, but went along with it in any case.

"I don't know. He'll probably give me the pre-social-event pep-talk. It's a quick rundown of every Malfoy social rule in existence so that I don't publicly humiliate the family. Yey, fun!"

"Give me an example. I should brush up on the Malfoy social rules." Harry said, and Draco got a rush of joy into his chest.

We're going to be a family, and we're going to have family traditions and rules together, and we'll pass these down to…? He thought headily.

"Well, for example, a Malfoy never hunches over his food. A Malfoy doesn't nod, we lower our head in agreement," Draco gave a quick show of it, pursing his lips seriously and inclining his head slightly before returning it to its high perch upon his elongated neck. "and a Malfoy does not laugh, we chuckle, or sometimes chortle."

"Sounds super-duper."

"You asked."

"That'll teach me. Well, I guess you better run along to your pep-talk, kitten. Is there a rule as to which endearments Malfoys are allowed to be called by?"

"If there is then I'm pretty sure 'kitten' isn't on the list of approved pet names. Neither is 'sunshine,' 'princess,' or 'popsicle' I should imagine."

"Oh, come on. I've only called you Popsicle once! Maybe twice…"

"No longer allowed. Probably you'll still be allowed to call me Darling and Dear. That might be it."

"Not even Sugar?"

"Nope."

"How about Sex-Machine?"

"I'll make an exception."

"All right. I'm going get ready then, sex machine. See you."

"Bye."

XXXXXX

A/N: In my esteemed opinion, this chapter sucks. Ah well, I'll blame the holidays. I'm too busy trying to be imaginative with my Christmas gift-giving—I've nothing left over for fanfiction writing. Sorry, everybody!