Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Other Notes: Please note that this story ignores parts of PoA. It is set in Harry's third year.
Yes, this is a Harry-is-a-Malfoy fanfic, like we really need another one. But there are elements in this story that I have really wanted to write about for a while. Yeah, you can just add this story to the list of others, I have started but will likely never finish.
The Spare Heir: I
Harry barely concealed the hiss that escaped him as he gingerly leaned up against the seat in the carriage car, missing the look of concern, Hermione shot him when he vocalized his pain just a bit too loud. He didn't want to wake the man sleeping beside him, much less alert his friends to his discomfort.
His uncle had made sure to give him a firm and lasting reminder of what he was: a freak. Not just any freak, but a freak who clearly had it out for the families of those who had given him a place over his head. His uncle had made sure that the cuts and welts would remain with him for many more weeks to come. Even if his "aunt" couldn't remember her time as the human equivalent of a balloon, the Aurors hadn't been so generous as to modify his aunt's and uncle's memories.
Too absorbed in trying to ensure his own relative comfort he missed the looks his friends exchanged. "Rough summer, mate?" Ron asked softly as he placed Scabbers, his pet rat, down on the seat beside him, though he did it none too gently as one might expect one would while handling a pet.
"Yeah," Harry said a bit breathlessly, but quickly amended at the worried looks Ron and Hermione flashed each other, "but no more than usual." He must not have been convincing enough though.
"You really ought to tell someone, Harry." Ron said skeptically that his best friend's summer had been "manageable."
"I tried at the end of the first year, remember? And Dumbledore-"
"Professor Dumbledore, Harry," Hermione interjected, although she said it without her usual bite. She, too, seemed to be doubting the fib he was trying to sell.
"Professor Dumbledore said that because of my mum's sacrifice, I would have to continue to go back. Trust me, I have asked, but the answer is always the same."
"Still," Hermione said sounding as if she did not believe that he was telling the whole truth, "you could have written to one of us. We would have come and gotten you. Professor Dumbledore never said you had to spend the whole summer there."
While it was true, Professor Dumbledore had said he must return to his aunt's house, he had never said explicitly that Harry had to spend the whole summer there.
Harry said nothing, how did you explain to your best friends that all correspondence between him and them was carefully monitored by his uncle to ensure that he did not spill anything about his living conditions? Or the bars that had been installed over his windows to ensure that he couldn't run off as his living conditions slowly deteriorated. "I guess, I just didn't think about it. Honestly, guys, it's fine. I'm used to it, besides, we have the whole year ahead of us."
Ron nodded in agreement, "Well if you ever need us to come and get you, you write and let us know. If mum or dad cannot come and get you, I am sure I can rope one of my brothers into helping me."
"Thanks, Ron," Harry said and meant it. Hermione looked as if she wanted to say something but eventually told Harry that he could always write to her too. While he was appreciative of their offers, he knew that he would never risk it. He would have to put up with his uncle's temper, his aunt's shrewish ways, and his cousin's bullying.
"We still want you to write next summer. Write as frequently as you can, we care about you Harry, and we want to know that you are safe and that they are at least treating you decent."
Harry was sure that their definition of decent and Dursley's definition was not the same but he appreciated their concern and told them so. "I really appreciate it but I am fine. They can't do anything to me at Hogwarts. And I am sure that by then, they will have forgotten about Aunt Marge and-"
"What happened by the way? I heard bits and pieces from dad as he was telling mum, but I couldn't catch everything. I heard dad say that Accidental Magical Reversal Squad had to come and, er, fix her."
Harry sighed, though he was certain that his friends would understand his anger towards his aunt, at least he hoped they would, he really did get tired of having to relive that night. "She started talking bad about mum and dad, and I guess after hearing nothing but nasty things about them and to learn what really happened once I found out about being a wizard and all, I just snapped." Hermione frowned obviously wanting to scold him for letting his emotions get the better of him to point that it had physically manifested in his magical outburst, but did not know how to go about doing so in the situation.
Ron, too looked like he wanted to weigh in his thoughts, but Harry, eager to change the subject began speculating who would be teaching DADA.
"Well, I think it's kind of obvious, isn't it?" Hermione said having obviously sensed that Harry was done talking about his summer while shooting a pointed glance at the only other occupant in the train car.
Ron looked at the sleeping man better now, at Hermione's warning look to just "drop it."
"You think he's going to be teaching us Defense Against the Dark Arts? I mean he looks a bit too, I dunno, sick, or something."
Hermione looked uncertain while Harry just shrugged wordlessly, "It is the only position open." The witch said while Harry whispered the one thing that all of them were thinking, "Let's hope he's better than the last two we've had."
The conversation shifted again, this time to more light and carefree topics, which grew in volume as some of their other friends joined them. The sleeping professor never stirred.
What was shaping up to be a normal train ride abruptly changed for the group of Gryffindors as the train suddenly halted.
"We can't be there yet," Ron said in confusion and mild panic as he stared at the cabin's occupance who had yet to change into their school robes, before looking out the window, to try to figure where they were at and why the train had stopped.
Draco scanned the Great Hall anxiously as the first of the First years filed in behind the Deputy Headmistress. He, felt almost as anxious as the first years must-have felt, though, unlike the first years, he was very careful as to not let it show. He couldn't afford for anyone outside his closest friends to suspect that he was anything but the "ice prince" everyone else had dubbed him to be. He had a reputation to keep and it would not be befitting of the heir of the Malfoy family name, to show a display of nerves just because he was going to see his brother for the first time in nearly a lifetime. He felt himself grow more and more anxious as the double-file line grew. His brother should be somewhere in the line- he had to be, for Draco could not imagine how his mother or father would react if he wasn't. They were expecting him to write immediately upon returning to his dorm on how the sorting went and what house his brother had been sorted into.
The whole Potter fainting on the train incident was forgotten as Draco's focus shifted from his nemesis to trying to find his brother. He had tried, without success to scour the train for him, but unfortunately, the Dementor had, quite literally, put a damper on things.
Draco had grown up with the knowledge that he had a younger sibling. It had been the first in many generations that there was more than just an heir and his parents had not wanted him to grow up thinking that he was the only child as past generations on the family tree might suggest. They had also wanted to prepare him from the rumors that he was sure to hear once he became old enough to attend Hogwarts and beyond.
Some purebred families of the light side suspected that a curse had been placed on the Malfoy line, preventing more than one child per generation to be born. And when the second Malfoy child had disappeared mere minutes after his birth, many had speculated that it had all been a hoax, a ploy to clear the Malfoy names. Or at the very least, distance themselves from the Dark Lord, particularly at the time of his demise. Draco had been hurt the first time he had heard the rumors and speculations, but he had been young at the time and had since grown used to hearing people mutter at how convenient Mrs. Malfoy's second pregnancy was to the downfall of the dark lord and then the disappearance of said baby. Many chose to believe that there had never been a second baby born to whom many considered to be the right-hand man of You-Know-Who. But Draco knew better, as even though he was very young at the time, he couldn't forget how excited he had been to learn that he was finally a big brother.
All that had happened eleven years ago, meaning that Corvus, his brother, would be starting Hogwarts this year.
When the last of the first years stumbled into the Great Hall, Draco felt a jolt of panic as his eyes went back up both lines in search of the brilliant blonde trademark Malfoy hair.
Pansy and Theo and even Blaise, were also scanning the rows of first years, though they kept a bit more decorum about them. They had heard of Draco's younger brother for years, and knew, like Draco, that this would be the year that Corvus Malfoy would be making his debut at their school. If he was still alive like the Malfoy's kept insisting he was, then they had come to the "now or never."
Though anyone out of the silver trio would not have noticed a difference in Draco's demeanor Pansy and Theo saw the subtle shift as panic set in.
The panic only grew as the Deputy Headmistress started prattling off the names. He stared at each new first year, trying to commit their features into his memory, just in case.
But the just incase never came as the last of the firsties took their place on the stool as the hat was placed on his head. Scarcely thirty seconds later a resounding "RAVENCLAW" was announced followed by the polite clapping of most of the other houses, with slightly more boisterous cheers coming from the Ravenclaw table.
Malfoy did not join in, nor did he take notice of the closing remarks from the Headmaster.
One thought and one thought only was going through his head: where was his brother?