[A/N – So I've been super-busy and stressed out for the past week. Trig class and midterm, plus a camping trip tomorrow, means not a lot of free time for 'Possum. So thank you to my reviewers, sorry I can't thank you individually. Next chapter I will. But in any case, onto the fic. Enjoy.]
At promptly five o' clock, Lucius set down his Ministry work and floo'd himself to a small cabin near the manor, built expressly for the purpose. There couldn't be a direct passage from the network into the Malfoy Manor, far too dangerous. He calmly dusted himself off and started toward the manor.
He pushed open the heavy oak double doors and removed his cloak. "Potter?" he called. No answer, but the library door was ajar. Lucius pushed it open and entered.
The library was extraordinary, one unaccustomed to the manor would think. There were shelves upon shelves of books, in every color and size imaginable. They had been collected throughout the entire Malfoy bloodline - and due to such, many were about the dark arts. Lucius wondered idly if Potter had found those. Or some of the cursed books used against the Muggles. He smirked at the thought, then went about the library, looking for the boy.
Harry was in the back, leaning against a solid mahogany shelf filled completely with leather-bound books. Lucius walked up behind him, and when he was close enough, grabbed the boy around the waist with one arm and snatched the book out of his hand with the other.
Harry gasped in surprise. "It's not illegal," he protested before Lucius had even glanced at the cover.
He let the struggling boy go and closed the book. "Dark Spells for Dark Wizards," he read off the cover amusedly. "What would you want with this?" he asked. "Have you finally realized that light magic can only accomplish so much?" The book was put back in its place on the shelf and Lucius waited for an answer.
"I wouldn't put it like that, exactly," Harry answered hesitantly, "but if they could be used for self-defense...."
Lucius laughed. "You are such a Gryffindor. Sometimes you need to take the pre-emptive strike. That is what those curses are for."
"Then that's what I'm preparing for," Harry answered more confidently.
"Against who? The Dark Lord?"
Harry shrugged. "I guess. We'll end up killing each other eventually anyway, why shouldn't I at least be prepared for that?"
"That's morbid," Lucius commented casually.
"It's realistic."
"Harry." Lucius took his wrists and guided him to two armchairs facing each other. He pushed the boy into one and sat in the other, leaning forward as he spoke. "Do you remember what I said about the Death Eaters?"
Harry grimaced. "Yes."
"I was serious. Completely serious. Dumbledore opposes any form of dark magic - defensive or otherwise. How far do you think you would get in a real duel with someone who feels differently? Expelliarmus hardly holds up to the killing curse."
"It did before," Harry said quietly.
Lucius sighed. "That was luck, and we all know it. But that's all that Dumbledore expects to protect you. Anything more severe is considered dark magic, and he's tried to shelter you from using it ever since you first obtained a wand. But how much longer will you be able to do that?"
He took Harry's left arm, pulled up the sleeve, and started tracing the Dark Mark into the skin with his fingernail. "We would help you," Lucius promised as they both watched his nail cut the grotesque figure into Harry's skin. "We support the dark arts. We would be able to defend you. To think that Dumbledore and his limited light magic would be able to defeat the dark arts is idiocy."
Harry pulled down his sleeve desperately. "I can't support Voldemort," he said. "He killed my parents. At least Dumbledore was on their side."
Lucius dropped Harry's arm but stared intently into his clear green eyes. "What has Dumbledore ever done for you?" he asked coolly. "He's using you, whether or not you realize it."
"I know," Harry admitted in a quiet voice.
Lucius considered this a small triumph. "And," he continued, "yes, the Dark Lord killed your parents. He'll kill you as well if you don't join him. Your parents sacrificed their lives for you." The boy winced. "If you're killed as well, what good will that be to anyone?"
"And what good will it be if I end up locked in Azkaban?" Harry retorted.
Lucius shrugged. "The Dementors have rebelled, Azkaban isn't the hell that it once was. And besides, if you're a Death Eater you could be thrown in Azkaban. If you're working against the Dark Lord you will be killed. Do you see the distinction, Potter?"
"And who's to say that I won't defeat him?"
Lucius laughed. "The only person to ever face the Dark Lord and survive is...you. How long do you think it will be until your luck runs out?"
"I've battled him almost every year since I came to Hogwarts," Harry answered, "and lived. Doesn't that count for something?"
"You've never done it relying solely upon your magic. There's always a glitch in the plan, some unforseen twist that saves you. I told you, Harry, your luck is running out. You've come to rely on these glitches - how long will it be until you face Lord Voldemort yet again and everything goes as planned, with no convenient loophole?" Lucius sat back. "That wouldn't even be a concern if you were to join us."
Lucius could see Harry quickly processing all of this. "I have no reason to trust you," he finally answered coldly. "How should I know that if you were to take me to Voldemort it wouldn't be just so he could kill me?"
"Boy, if that were my intention you would already be dead."
Harry hesitated. "And if I want to learn the dark arts without joining Voldemort?"
Lucius shook his head. "It doesn't work like that. Either you're with him or against him. And I'd like to know which side you're on." He rose from the chair. "I'll let you think it over. But ultimately I want a decision. And your life depends on it." He left the library, leaving Harry sitting there, slowly rubbing his left forearm.
---
Dinner had always been served promptly at six-thirty every night at the Malfoy manor, and tonight was no different. Lucius put down his quill, noted the time, then rose to get Harry.
He was still in the library where Lucius had left him, curled in the overstuffed armchair and staring at the ground, deep in thought. "Potter." He looked up. "Come eat."
"And if I don't want to?" Harry challenged him.
Lucius refused to lose his patience with the boy. "I'd rather you did. You can return here and do nothing after dinner," he promised with a wry smile.
Harry flushed. "I was just...thinking."
"I know. You can think over dinner. Now come." Harry rose from his spot reluctantly and followed Lucius to the dining room.
Lucius took a seat in his usual spot, and motioned for Harry to sit across from him. A house elf bowed and hurriedly placed a plate in front of each of them. "Well?" Lucius asked as Harry stared down at the table.
"I don't know," he answered listlessly.
"Lord knows you've had plenty of time to think it over."
Harry looked up. "An hour? To decide whether or not I'm going to devote my life to Voldemort?" He snorted. "That's realistic."
"You make it all sound so final," Lucius commented.
"Well, it is, isn't it? If you leave the Death Eaters you get killed. If you - If I, don't join at all I get killed." He pushed the food around on his plate. "And if my friends find out they'll be very nearly killed from the shock."
"It's not that difficult to conceal," Lucius told him. "And even if you are caught you can say you were forced."
"You don't understand," Harry said desperately. "If anyone were to see the Dark Mark on the Boy Who Lived?" He pronounced it with an ironic, weary smile. "Ron and Hermione wouldn't want anything to do with me. Any adults would have me sent to Azkaban. My relatives, well, they would just assume I was in a gang." He shrugged. "If Dumbledore found out." He stopped abruptly at the thought. "And what would Sirius have thought? Or my parents?"
"We've discussed them already, didn't we?" Lucius drawled.
Harry's eyes flashed. "We did. But what, now they don't matter anymore?" He pushed his hair out of his eyes agitatedly, giving Lucius a good look at his scar. "I don't know. Lose-lose situation." He fell silent and concentrated on his dinner.
Lucius watched him eat. He looked as though he were merely doing it out of habit; his mind was obviously elsewhere. "I wish you would stop sulking," Lucius finally said, annoyed.
Harry looked at him from over the top of his glasses. "I'm not," he replied shortly.
"You are, and you're ignoring me as well."
"I have nothing left to say to you." He stood, and the chair scraped loudly against the stone floor. "I'm leaving."
"Where?" Lucius asked. "You can't go far; there's a barrier around the edges of the property that keep you from getting out."
"I figured you would do something like that," Harry said coldly.
"It also keeps the Dark Lord from sensing that you're here and killing you, so you'd best be grateful. He's nowhere near as patient as I have been." Lucius also stood, ready to follow Harry to wherever he had been planning to hide out.
Harry looked at him distrustfully. "If Voldemort knew where I was all the time I'd already be dead."
"He doesn't work alone. It's part of the, ah, job description as a Death Eater, to keep tabs on where you are."
Harry looked surprised at this - Lucius didn't blame him. But still he remained composed. "That doesn't answer why I'm still alive."
Lucius laughed. "It takes planning to get you in a position where it's not likely someone will interfere."
"Then Voldemort needs to learn to plan better," Harry smirked. "And I still don't want to be here." He left the dining room.
"Oh, don't be angry," Lucius called after him exasperatedly.
Harry turned around. "I'm not, I don't think," he answered. "But I need some time alone." He returned to the library, pulling the heavy door closed behind himself. Lucius sighed quietly and stacked the plates and silverware for a house elf to pick up. He needed some time alone as well; those green eyes were almost too much for him.
---
He spent the next few hours in his study, penning letters to Ministry officials. He had also been straining to hear any noise from the library, adjacent to the office. But it was eleven o' clock before he heard Harry leave. Good lord, boy, how much introspection must you put yourself through? He listened carefully as the door was pulled closed and Harry headed upstairs. Once he was positive that he was in the bedroom, Lucius rose and followed him.
He pushed open the door without knocking. Harry's clothes were in a heap on the floor, and he had put the pajama pants on, but the top was still in his hands. Harry glanced at the open door and blushed when he saw it was Lucius. "Can't you knock?" he asked, annoyed. He pulled the top on quickly, but not enough so that Lucius didn't see the shadows of past bruises etched across Harry's back and chest.
"It's my manor," Lucius replied lazily, coming closer to Harry, "and you're my prisoner." He grabbed Harry around the waist and pulled him closer. It had been a playful action, but Harry cried out and was off like a shot, halfway across the bedroom before Lucius could register what had happened.
"What on earth are you so skittish about?" he asked, raising an eyebrow as Harry's complexion returned to normal, from the deathly white it had been a minute ago.
Harry smoothed his hair. "Nothing, it was nothing, sorry."
"That was not nothing," Lucius said skeptically.
"It doesn't matter," Harry muttered. "You can't do anything about it anyway."
"Would this have anything to do with those bruises?" Lucius guessed.
Harry looked up, and Lucius saw the answer in his eyes before he said anything. So he pressed on, "Your uncle?"
"And my cousin," Harry admitted quietly. "But it's really not that bad... nobody needs to know, I'm fine."
"You're not fine, if they leave bruises like that," Lucius argued.
Harry stepped around him and sat down cross-legged on the four-poster. "Why do you even care?" he asked defensively.
Lucius had a seat next to the boy, ignoring the glare Harry gave him. "I care about your well-being," he answered neutrally. "And I won't let you go back there."
"I have to," Harry said desperately. "At least for the first half of the summer."
"You'll be safer here," Lucius argued. "You'll be protected against the Dark Lord and your relatives."
Harry shrugged noncommittally. "Why did you come in here, anyway?" he asked, pushing his bangs off his face.
Lucius watched the endearing motion and smiled. "Why, to give you a goodnight kiss." He leaned in, wrapping one arm around Harry's shoulders, and kissed him fiercely as he'd been longing to do for awhile now. He felt Harry tense under his touch at first, then relax in in apathy and passiveness. Harry's lips were firmly closed, but his eyes were too, and it altogether was a satisfying moment. Lucius broke away as he stood up. "Sweet dreams."