Dazed and Dumbfounded 7
AN: Sorry for the long wait, but my computer refused to work in the 90 degree temps during the way-too-hot summer. But I'll be continuing this and my other stories now.
Harry stared glumly at himself in the gilded mirror in his new bedroom in Malfoy Manor. Well, it was supposed to be him. Of course, his reflection these days didn't look anything like the Harry Potter he had known all the long years of his life. In fact, he looked more like Draco. His hair was the characteristic snowy white of the Malfoys and at the moment it stuck up more than the usual amount, thanks to the vase he had glued to his head just a half hour earlier. Mr. Malfoy, of course, hadn't cared for that one bit and had yanked it off right away. Leaning closer to the mirror, Harry tenderly touched the top of his head and winched. Worse, it looked as if he may be going slightly bald as well. "Stupid Pureblood! He's more insane than I thought! First he wants to kill me and now I'm practically his son? What's he's going to do next?"
Remembering the goal of his current predicament, he slumped onto the bed in defeat. "Oh, he wants me to marry Pansy…"
Which, of course, was totally insane!
But then, Lucius was nuts, right?
Harry's green eyes flickered around the large bedroom. This room was nothing like his bedroom at the Dursleys. For one thing, the bed was immense and could easily hold two or three people of Harry's size. Why anyone would need such a huge bed for a single person was beyond Harry's grasp, but the Malfoy's seemed to favor elaborate showy furniture. The bed's four posts were carved out of some smooth, dark polished wood. The wood actually shone and Harry knew that some house elf must have spent hours rubbing on the wood to remove even the faintest hint of a fingerprint. That thought led to Hermoine, of course. She hated the idea that house elves were nothing but slaves and if she was really going to marry Draco and live here….
The young wizard shook his head. Within a short time Lucius and Hermoine would be engaged in a war over house Elves. "Do I really want to be here to see that? As if I didn't hear enough about SPEW at Hogwarts…"
The thought banished for the moment, Harry continued his exam of the room. The soft carpet under his feet was nice, but a gilded cage was still a cage. "Why am I sitting here feeling sorry for myself? I have to escape before it's too late!"
Leaping off the bed, Harry walked to the door and tried the knob. He half expected it to be locked but the door opened smoothly. Stepping out into the hall, he came face to face with Draco.
"There you are, Potter. Father wants to see you in the Dining Room." Draco drawled.
"You can get someone else because I've had enough of this madness. I'm going home!" Harry stormed past Draco in what he hoped was the right direction. Any direction was fine. He'd even crawl out a window if he had to…
"What? But you can't!" Draco ran after Harry and grabbed the other boy's arm. "Our plan is going great and if we keep it up Father will soon agree I can marry Hermoine. That was our goal, right?"
"No, our agreement was that I'd stand by your side while you told your father you wanted to marry Hermoine. I did that. I never agreed to join the family or date Pansy. I don't even know her! Besides, she's a …."
"What? A Slytherin?" Draco narrowed his eyes and frowned. "You know what your problem is, Potter? Your problem is that you have a skewed, twisted viewpoint of Slytherins and Weasley was the one that gave it to you! You seem to think that all Slytherins grow up to be mass murderers, like You Know Who. But that's not true. This may shock you, but not all Slytherins are even criminals. Do you really think the school would keep a House that cranked out all murderers and such? Of course not! The main characteristic of a Slytherin is cunning. And I guess a lot of us are also ambitious. Sure, maybe some of us do bend rules and become engaged in shady business. Mr. Borgin is a good example. But he's also a businessman. The Ministry knows about his shop, you know. They know he sells Dark Magic items. Yet they don't shut him down, do they? And if you think back to our First Year, didn't Slytherin House have the most points at the end of the year? We were going to win the House Cup before your precious Dumbledore handed out those extra points to you. And you know what that means? That us Slytherins are the most well-behaved of all the Houses!"
Harry was silent and didn't know what to think. Could Draco be right? Was he wrong about Slytherins? Or did the blonde have this whole thing planned from day one? Yeah, maybe that was it… Harry poked a finger into Draco's chest. "You had this planned, didn't you?"
"Have what planned?" Draco asked innocently.
"This whole thing with Pansy! That's why you insisted I come along with you and Hermoine!"
"Potter," Draco replied calmly in his normal drawl. "We both know you're clueless when it comes to girls. You'd never get a date otherwise! Why, you didn't even know Granger was a girl until the Dance our Forth Year!"
Harry gritted his teeth. A part of him wanted to pummel Draco for tricking him and old habits died hard, but they were friends now. And violence never solved anything. Besides, beating the blonde up inside his own house with his father lurking who-knows-where wasn't exactly smart. It was sheer suicide. And he wasn't that dumb yet. "Of course I knew Hermoine was a girl! And I've been on a date!"
"And that date was a big success, was it?"
"Well, not exactly…" Harry admitted.
"There's nothing wrong with dating a Slytherin. Opposites attract and all that, right?"
Harry shrugged. "I really don't know…"
"Of course they do!" Draco grinned as he pulled on the other boy's arm and started to lead him back to the bedroom. "Now let's get you dressed for dinner."
"What's wrong with what I have on?" Harry asked in confusion as he glanced down at the black clothes the Zunno the House Elf had given him after the forced bath.
Draco waved a pale hand in dismissal, a sneer on his pointed face. "Don't be ridiculous, Potter! You can't wear that to dinner! Father would be furious! You're expected to wear dinner attire, although I'm sure you've never heard of it."
Harry didn't like Draco's tone of voice but he let it slide past for the moment. "Are we having guests or something?"
"No. But we're expected to dress for dinner. It's how it's done, Potter." Draco explained as he dragged Harry back into the new bedroom. Once inside, Draco went directly to the huge wardrobe and flung the doors open. After flipping through the clothes within, he pulled out several pieces of clothing and laid them on the bed. "That should do nicely, I think. Not that it's my job, really. A footman should be helping you with this…"
"A footman?" Harry gawked blankly at the other teen.
Draco shook his head sadly. "You don't even know what that is, do you? Oh, Father will just love this!"
Harry picked up a long piece of unfamiliar fabric in confusion. What was worst, it had lace on it and that instantly reminded him of Ron's old-fashioned dress robe from Fourth Year. But what the heck was it? It certainly wasn't a shirt or pants or even a belt. Well, he hoped it wasn't a belt. It was thin enough to pass for one maybe…
"That gets tied around your neck in a bow, as any properly dressed gentleman would wear. Now put it down and let's get you dressed…"
Harry stared at the lacy neck kerchief, horrified.
He was really beginning to hate being a Malfoy!
Some time later, Harry found himself sitting at the long table in the Dining Room. The unfamiliar clothes he was forced to wear annoyed him, especially the bit of lacy cloth tied around his neck in some complex bow. Worst, Draco had to tie it for him because the bows he had made were somehow all wrong and then the blonde had started to worry the starch would go out of the cloth…! And so Harry found himself sitting at the elaborate table, his hands folded in his lap from fear of making some booboo. It was becoming rapidly clear that the Malfoys were stuck in the past and didn't know it was the Twentieth Century! Talk about living in the past! The Dining Room itself looked like a museum piece from the 1800s! And were those real crystal goblets? Worse, why did he have three of the goblets in front of his place setting? And all those spoons, forks and knifes…. His stomach started to bubble nervously as he realized it was going to be one of those multi-course meals and one was expected to know what spoon or fork to use.
He was doomed!
"Well, I must say you clean up quite nicely." Lucius said from the head of the table as his blue eyes scanned Harry. "With a bit of training, perhaps you could pass as a Malfoy. What do you think, my Dear?"
"Clothes alone don't make a man nor does hair color." Narcissa remarked from the other end of the table. "As I'm sure you know, Lucius. Still, perhaps young Harry has potential. He did kill a basilisk or so I heard. Is that true? Did you really kill the monstrous creature?"
"Yes, I did." Harry replied matter-of-factly. "With a sword, Godric Gryffindor's sword to be precise."
"How marvelous!" Narcissa exclaimed. "Perhaps there's a smudge of nobility in you somewhere…."
Merlin, how long would he have to suffer through this ordeal? Harry gritted his teeth and his green eyes darted across the table to where Hermoine sat between Draco and Narcissa. His friend from school looked totally different, as she too had been forced to dress up for the evening meal. Her hair was piled on her head in some fancy hairdo that apparently called for fresh flowers from the garden. The pale pink roses matched the exact shade of her off the shoulders evening gown. Harry didn't know much about cloth or fabric, but the dress was made from some rich embroidered material covered in a rose pattern, the embroidery just a shade darker than the dress. It looked nice on Hermoine and he briefly wondered if it was Narcissa's dress. He was positive that his best friend wouldn't own a dress like that. It was like something out of a Disney movie, clothing from a by-gone era. And that sparkling necklace around her throat couldn't possibly be hers. No way! So it must be Narcissa's, but would the icy cold woman even own anything that was pink?
"Um, Sir?" Harry nervously said. "I think there must have been a mistake because I seem to have three glasses…."
Lucius sighed. "You're supposed to have three goblets; each for a different drink. Didn't the Muggles teach you proper dining?"
"Umm … I wasn't allowed to eat the table with my Aunt or Uncle. I had to serve the meal and clean up afterwards…"
"How disgusting, doing a footman's labor!" Narcissa exclaimed. "And to filthy Muggles no less!"
"A footman?" Harry asked.
"They're a type of male servant." Lucius explained. "They help out around the manor including serving the meals like waiters do in a restaurant. It's also their duty to help the young Masters, which would be you and Draco, dress and draw your baths. This house has several different types of servants. Nor are they allowed to start conversations with you. They live by a strict code of conduct. If you wish for something, a footman will fetch it for you. If you're going to be my son, you must learn these things."
"But I can dress by myself." Harry exclaimed. "I really don't need someone doing it for me…."
"But it's their duty." Lucius explained. "Without us to serve, the house elves would have nothing to do. Surely you don't want them out on the street, do you? It's a mark of prestige to have house elves. Not all wizarding families are so lucky or privileged. Remember that. Now, let us change the subject…"
A house elf appeared and placed a plate in front of Harry, the action practiced and smooth. Nervously, the young wizard stared at the thing that rested upon the plate. In fact, he had no idea what it was. Why, he couldn't even describe the thing! It was small and the shape very vaguely resembled a taco shell … or a canoe. Yeah, it looked like a tiny canoe that filled with some odd white crumbly stuff. Was it cottage cheese? If he knew the Malfoys, it most likely wasn't. Apparently they had some weird chef in the kitchen cooking up weird stuff. Lifting his gaze, he was a bit pleased to see Hermoine staring at her canoe of not cottage cheese as well, a worried expression on her face. Whatever it was, it was small enough to eat in two bites. But how do you eat the thing? Harry was tempted to just pick it up with his hand and shove the whole thing in his mouth…
Would Lucius throw him out if he did so he could go see Mrs. Weasley?
Most likely not…
"So, Harry," Lucius said from the head of the table. "Where do you plan on taking Pansy on your first date?"
"Umm …." Harry lifted his eyes from the weird food to Mr. Malfoy. For some unknown reason, he had been seated right next to the older wizard and across from Draco. "I really don't know, Sir. I mean, I really don't know her…"
"Come, come! You must have some idea!" Lucius encouraged as he picked up a portion of the unidentified food with his silver fork.
"The Shrieking Shack?" Harry asked hopefully.
Lucius started coughing and choking. A house elf footman came running and dutifully pounded on his Master's back. Once the choking had been solved and the older wizard was breathing normally again, he glared at Harry. "No son of mine is going to take a date to the Shrieking Shack! That would be uncouth! It would be a scandal!"
Harry shrugged. He really didn't know anything about girls anyway…
"You're supposed to take them to a nice restaurant!"
"Oh." Harry remarked and nodded his head in understanding. "Umm … would McDonalds be considered a nice restaurant? I suppose I could scrape together enough Muggle coins to buy a hamburger…"
"Ooohhhhhh," Lucius moaned as he hung onto his head. He needed a drink, badly! "Zunno, the port wine!"
"Don't you feel well, Mr. Malfoy?" Harry asked, concern in his voice.
"No, I don't."
"Well, maybe if you haven't been eating that canoe with the gunk on it…" Harry suggested helpfully.
"One: you don't take a Pureblood girl to a Muggle grease trap! Are you trying to ruin this family? You need to think! You're a Pureblood! We only eat at high society wizard restaurants! And I will pay the bill, but you must behave appropriately! Is that clear? Two: this is not a canoe with gunk on it, as you called it. It's very expensive dining from France!"
"I guess…" Harry nodded. "But I still don't see why I'm involved in this…"
"You're involved due to the contract, remember?"
"Oh, yeah. That." Harry replied glumly as he bravely moved a piece of the weird French food to his mouth. Closing his eyes tightly, he opened his mouth and tasted it…
If only there had been another Malfoy!
To be continued…
Sorry, but I don't know the names of any UK fast food places so an American one will have to do.