DISCLAIMER: Anything you recognize from reading JK Rowling's wonderful stories is hers (and also property of all the other corporations that own a chunk of the Harry Potter money making machine). I'm just borrowing it to terrorize Draco and Harry, because I really enjoy doing that. I am making no money from this. All other stuff you see that isn't HP cannon is from my own twisted little mind that has been filled with thousands of other HP fan fics that inspired me! Also, many thanks to my Beta, Moggy. Also blessings to my reviewers! I can't tell you how thrilling it is to get reviews.

End of A/N Note

Lessons of Etiquette and Protocol

Harry sat in his new suite of rooms exhausted. He was still reeling in shock from the things that had happened to him in the past few days. He had barely had time enough to stop and write owls to Hermione, Ron, and Professor McGonagal. Harry had not been able to bring himself to write to Professor Dumbledore. He felt bad about the way he had acted in the man's office, but he still resented how he had been manipulated. He knew he needed to get past it, but he wasn't quite ready yet.

Clair Malfoy had been sent by Merlin to save Harry from doom and destruction, as far as Harry was concerned, or at least from great embarrassment on how a Crown Prince should dress. She had gone into overdrive "get-Harry-ready" Mode after she had finished her very un-Malfoy fan girl squee, said squee happening as soon as his confirmation was announced to the Malfoy family. At times she had reminded him of Hermione with her organization and take charge of the details abilities. In less than 12 hours, she had Harry newly shod, quaffed, and dressed. He now was the proud owner of 4 new sets of robes, 4 pairs of shoes, and more hair care products than he cared to think about, with many more outfits on the way. This she had accomplished in just a few days. He had no idea what he was going to do with all these new cloths, but he was sure that Clair would inform him.

Harry had actually had a tug of war with her over his glasses. She was determined to do away with them totally, and have his eyes fixed. Harry however felt sentimental about them and thus the tug of war ensued.

"Harry, you cannot mean to keep those glasses. You have such gorgeous eyes it would be a crime to keep them covered up." Harry's new self-appointed personal shopper, Clair, stated emphatically.

"But Clair, I like them. They are the same kind my dad had." Harry rejoined blocking an accio glasses from Clair with a swipe from his wand.

"That is exactly my point. They are a generation out of fashion!"

"No." Harry stated firmly, regally if you will.

"Oh…" a crumpled look came over her face. "If you really don't want to, but you don't have to be so mean about it." This outrageous statement was followed by a small sniffle.

"Mean! How was I being mean?" Harry near shouted in exasperation as Clair broke into elegant tears and loud sobs in the middle of the shop. Harry, being a typical male in this situation, looked on with an expression crossed between terrified and dumbfounded. Give him a confrontation with Voldemort any day over dealing with a crying female. At least he knew what to DO when confronted by Voldemort.

Clair had come out on top of their battle of wills, not playing fair, by crying. Harry, having no idea what to do with a crying female, had caved. He would have done just about anything to get Clair to stop crying and end the evil glairs shot his way for making the pretty petite blond for crying, but surprisingly he had shown more spunk than most men. He wound up getting his eyes fixed like she wanted, but they compromised by him getting some stylish new frames that resembled his previous frames with glass in them enchanted to show spelled items and the type of spell they were under. Both in the end felt they got the better side of the deal, and Harry spent part of that afternoon learning to use his new glasses.

But with the rest of his wardrobe he surrendered to her will, with a touch of ill grace, realizing that with a crown he'd need new cloths. When Harry had protested at the sheer amount of clothing, shoes, hair care products, and "accessories" she just gave him the Malfoy look that clearly said, "You must be joking, and you are not funny." Then she ignored him and preceded at full pace, a literal whirling dervish of shopping, while Damien Malfoy, Harry's new bodyguard, snickered.

That he had a bodyguard to snicker at him was another shock to Harry's system. Never mind that it was a boy only a few years older than him. This was another thing that he had protested, but with this he was much more vocal. Harry did not like the idea that someone would stand in the way of him and any dark spell that came his way. He felt, with some justification that he could take care of himself. He lost this battle too. This time all it took was his uncle saying, "Please, we cannot afford to lose you." Thus he wound up with a Malfoy watching his back. Talk about something to make him jumpy!

And that was another thing! Malfoys to the left of him, Malfoys to the right of him, Malfoys in front of him and behind him, there seemed to be an over abundance of them. If he didn't know better, he'd swear that white blond hair came from rabbit stock. Right off, he wanted to know what was with all the Malfoys, and boy had THAT come as a shock, as Harry's thoughts went back to the crown room with the King where he got an explanation of all the blonds running about in service with the king.

It turns out that large round thing in the room, that Harry had thought was a decorative fountain was actually a pensive with significant memories from all the rulers of the kingdom all the was back to Queen Cassandra. The king had pulled the memory that showed the first Malfoy came into being and shared it with Harry. Needless to say, Harry was quite shocked. He spent about an hour speaking with the patriarch and matriarch of the Malfoy family in Kowpens about the Malfoys in England, and Harry was left with no doubt in his mind that the senior Malfoy was not pleased about anything to do with the situation, from the family being there to the behavior of Lucius or Draco. In all fairness, Harry felt obliged to point out that he only saw Draco from the point of view of a rival, and that maybe he acted differently with his peers and friends. He, however, didn't have anything good he could say about Lucius. He thought he did see a gleam of approval for himself when he told about freeing Dobby and Lucius being knocked down the hallway via a blast of Dobby's magic on Harry's behalf.

But the thing that really was worrying Harry the most as he contemplated things in his new suite of rooms, which was something else to adjust to, was how Ron, Hermione, the rest of the Weasleys, and his friends had reacted to his news. On the other hand, he was allowed to use his wand and magic when he wanted to. Of course, he had the added joy of more lessons, most of them etiquette and protocol but some of them advanced DADA with Eric Malfoy.

Ah now there was another quandary for Harry to ponder. Eric Malfoy, the king's own bodyguard, master of both offensive and defensive security magic as well as several forms of physical fighting. Eric Malfoy a wizard that was highly powerful, highly beautiful, highly dangerous, and highly messing with Harry's libido, and this was Harry's quandary. Harry had no idea that it was even a possibility that he might be interested in a guy "that way." Now most people would still be at a stage of shock and denial, but Harry had given up living in Egypt a long time ago. He found that being frank with himself, even if no one else would be, helped his survival expectations, and our dear Harry was Slytherin enough to value that aspect of himself. Thus he had gone from the "oh my God he's HOT!" stage, lightly hit on the "No I can't be attracted to a guy because I'm a guy." Stage and was now in the "Ok, I'm attracted to a guy, what in the name of Merlin's toe nails am I going to do about it?" stage.

This dilemma had been plaguing poor Harry for days to point of his messing up at this favorite subject due to being distracted by his teacher. Harry could hardly pay attention to his lessons for watching his teacher. This caused Harry to miss or trip over his own two feet or some other such disaster more often than not, to the point where his teacher was exasperated with him and had dressed Harry down for his poor performance with a tongue as sharp as the sword he currently wielded. Harry, for his part, was just grateful that Eric had not seemed to pinpoint the cause of Harry's ineptitude, however Clair had and of late had teased Harry about it to the point where he wondered if his face was going to permanently a shade of red. Still, while Clair could tease him about it, she had done him the favor of a misdirection when Eric seemed to be inching his way towards Harry's secret. In face, she had done it so much that Eric was now convinced Harry had a crush on Clair, and had banned her from the practice room to keep her from distracting Harry. Would that his life was so simple. Then again, The Fates seemed to adore weaving the thread of his life, and master weavers that they were they would never let his thread take on such a simple pattern. It crossed his mind that perhaps he should look into doing something to placate them since they refused to ignore him, no matter how much he tried to ignore them.

"Prince Harry, I am attempting to follow the orders of my most gracious King by pounding as much defense and fighting techniques into your dullard brain as possible. Do pay attention, it will vastly help your ability to absorb the information." Eric drawled in an oh so weary I-must-do-this-but-I-am-not-enjoying-it voice. His wand landing with a with a startling CRACK as Eric smacked the wooden desk right in front of Harry's nose bringing him out of the lovely daydream Harry was having about doing oh so many unmentionable things with his teacher.

Harry sat back up with a snap and replied, "Yes, sir." Doing his best to make sense of his notes before him as Eric was no doubt about to quiz him over the material he had missed because his newly over active libido. It just was not fair! Why did all of the Malfoys have to be so… well sexy! He had never noticed Draco being sexy when they were in school, Harry mused a bit grumpy, his eyes moving to admire the lovely tight derrière Eric presented as he started to lecture again and while writing on the board points about warding spells Harry absently jotted down.

"… and you must ground the ward spell into a physical object. It is best if this object is well protected itself by other means than the ward it will anchor." Eric lectured.

Harry suppressed a moan, as he vainly shifted in his seat to get more comfortable from the tightness of his pants. He idly wondered if his Uncle knew of a spell to make the Malfoys not quite so yummy, or if it was just something he would have to deal with. Perhaps, after a while, you just got so used to them you built up an immunity. Rather like eating too many ice mice and then latter getting sick at the thought of eating them. Something Dean had once done. Now Dean would go a bit green at the mere mention of the candies.

"PRINCE HARRY!" and crack went the wand against the desk.

Damn it! Not again. It just wasn't fair.

Damian found the situation that Harry was in all too funny as well, but knowing which side his bread was buttered on, didn't twit Harry too much about the situation.

"Prince Harry!" a voice called out and Harry groaned as he hid under his head under one of sofa pillows where he had been reading up on wards in his sitting room. He knew that voice very well by now. It was his savior. It was his tormentor, who had managed in the past few days to bump Draco from the position of number one "Enemy not out to kill me." Though Draco might have debated that point.

"PRINCE HARRY POTTER!"

It was Clair. Harry pondered making a run for it, but not only did she have the advantage of this being her home turf, Clair excelled as a tracker. With a martyred sigh he answered her, "I'm here, Clair."

"Why are you here? You are supposed to be there!" she raged at him as she stomped into his sitting room. Harry quickly found out that the title of "prince" to the Malfoys translated to "someone to ride heard on to keep out of trouble." Well, unless it was trouble planned with one of about said Malfoys. It seemed that Clair had not only his fashion consultant, but as his secretary/make-sure-he-gets-there-on-time-babysitter. Harry so hoped that his Uncle gave into his request to only take Damian to Hogwarts for the school year. He was already having nightmares of Clair and Hermione becoming the best of friends and tag teaming him.

"There? There where? What are you talking about, Clair?" he answered her in an exasperated tone.

"Your fitting for your school robes. You know very well that you have outgrown your old ones." She said with an arrogant sniff. "As if I would let you go back to Hogwarts in those sub-par garments. I don't know why you want to go back to that place when you could transfer to Oxford here." She complained.

"I've told you before. I want to go back there because that is where my friend are." At this she gave him tearing eyes and her lip started to tremble, and Harry hastily added, having gotten a few pointers on how to handle teary-eyed women from Eric, "I mean my old friends. I have lots of new friends here, but I miss my old friends." He heaved an inner sigh when the doe eyes and trembling lip retreated.

"Well, if you are determined to go back, you need to be fitted for your robes. You've only a couple of days before you leave."

"Coming. I'm coming." And he rolled off the couch he had been laying on and followed her out for his fitting. "Doomed… I may as well admit it. I'm doomed."

"What was that?" Clair asked, her ears quite sharp when she wanted them to be.

"Nothing, dear." He replied and thought doomed doomed doomed…