AN: Well this took a bit longer than i wanted it to. Had to find the right tone for Draco, still working on it, but hopefully I can get it down pact. Not only that but I had a bit too much fun planting the seeds for the first OC character in the store, with Morgan Lockneed. They are going to be a blast to write, and provided some great conflict as the store goes on. I plan to get the next chapter out before the end of the year and answer a few questions, among them is just how Miss. Figg managed to cast a patronus as a Squib? That one, I hope will be somewhat satisfying, and add a little more light on a smaller character in the series. Till then, enjoy the story! Also, leave reviews, be they good or bad, I love hearing feedback.
It was hard to tell when the last time tensions rose this high among the Death Eaters. Even after Voldemort's supposed death at the hands of Harry Potter, the Death Eaters had managed to hold it together. However, this time was different. The Dark Lord was very much alive. He had brought them all back together. He promised them many things. Yet, after his run in with Potter at the Ministry of Magic, he hadn't been seen.
The sudden disappearance of their Lord is what drew five Death Eaters to a bar deep within Knockturn Alley, among them was Lucius Malfoy, who kept looking behind him, expecting the Dark Lord to spring out and curse them all.
"My God Malfoy, would you stop that. Your constant swiveling is making me sick" came the gruff and demanding voice of Greyback. The werewolf, who reeked of Earth and blood, sat at the head of the table, just to the left of Lucius. It was clear that, wherever he had come from, he was in some sort of fight. There had been whispering of revolt in his pack, though everyone in attendance had reason to believe that he had silenced those who tried to rise up.
On his left were the Carrows, Alecto and Amycus. Both of them wore smug grins as they watched Malfoy go silent, his eyes drawn downward. While neither one of them fancied the spineless man, they at least had to admit his presence did offer some amusements. There had been a long running bet between the two of them on when his sniveling attitude would get the better of him. The last in attendance, and perhaps the most threatening of all of them was Igor Karkaroff. His imposing frame took up his end of the table with ease, his great hands wrapped around a goblet filled to the brim with ale. Despite his appearance, he wasn't some dumb brute, and was the one who had called this meeting to order.
"Yes, Lucius" he spoke, his strong accent drawing the attention of the others, "The way you are acting would make a lesser man believe you had sold us out. However, someone like you would never dare to break our trust. Rather, you aren't capable of such acts" he continued, earning a chuckle for Fenrir.
"Regardless Igor" interjected Alecto, leering at the man over her own drink, "I would love to know just why you called us out here. We all should be waiting to hear from the Dark Lord"
"That is exactly why I called you here. It has been months since the Dark Lord has shown his face. Even longer since we have even been summoned to convene. Ever since his last run in with Potter" the man spat the word with venom, the disgust filling his eyes "Our Lord has not come out of hiding. Not even his she-bitch Bellatrix knows where he is"
A silent gasp ran across the ones at the table, each one slowly scooting away from Igor. It had been a well known fact that The Dark Lord didn't take kindly to anyone who would insult his most devout follower. One foolish Death Eater once called her out her name, when neither one of them were present. His Dark Mark had burned his body to cinders, and sent a message to all others. As it stood, the other four were expecting Igor to meet the same end, yet he merely stood there. He looked each one of them in the eyes, eyes that were burning not with magical fire, but with pure confidence that he would not be harmed.
"H-how" hissed Lucius, once it became apparent that Igor would not die that moment "How are you still standing. The Dark Lord hears all through our marks, not even Snape was spared this"
"Because, my sniveling friend, The Dark Lord isn't listening. Rather, I don't think he can"
The four Death Eater looked at one another, ignoring the smirk across Igor's face. Could it be true? Could the Dark Lord no longer hear when they spoke ill of him, or even spoke his name? They had all known about the curse of the Mark's. How they reacted to any sign or emotion of ill will towards the Dark Lord or the ones in his inner circle. Yet, Igor, after calling Bellatrix a she-bitch, was still sitting, enjoying his drink.
"Vol-Vold-Voldemort" whispered Amycus, closing his eyes, braced for a world of pain. It never came, not a lick of fire, or string of curses "Voldemort!" he suddenly shouted to the sky, followed by a laugh of relief.
The laugh of relief spread across the table, all in attendance saying the one name they would never say. All, that was, except Lucius. The silver haired man looked at the four before him, and then at his own arm. For ages the mark burned into his flesh ruled his life, his drive, his own dark ambitions. Now...now there was proof there was a sense of freedom before him.
"Come one Lucius, give it a try" spoke Fenrir, who jabbed the man in the ribs, bringing him back to reality.
The man looked at the others, noting their eyes, and how they were searching if he would join in with them, or be a problem to be removed. He saw the hand of Igor slip under the table, no doubt grasping his wand in case Lucius wasn't on board. Just like that, the threat of death was back. It may not be in the form of Voldemort, but Igor was just as deadly. The only difference being, he was human. Knowing that he would have to keep low, Lucius raised his glass to offer a toast.
"To freedom. Not from Voldemort. No. Freedom, from Tom Riddle"
The silence that followed seemed fall across the entire room. Even the flickering of candle flames became muted. The four Death Eaters all looked at Lucius. An alive Lucius as he drown his drink, after speaking aloud the true name of the Dark Lord. That silence was broken by the thunderous clap of Igor, who also raised his glass.
"You are to right my friend. To freedom from Tom Riddle, and, to the birth of a new Death Eater uprising"
They clinked glasses and took healthy swigs, before looking at Igor, though only Amycus was the first to speak up
"What do you mean by new Death Eater uprising"
"I didn't just ask you all here to test if my hunch was correct. No, I also came here to offer you all a place at a new table" Igor began, before waving his wand to conjure another chair, the table shifting to accommodate one other person "You see, it was not I who discovered that the Dark Lord wasn't listening. No, it was someone else. Are you all familiar with a Death Eater known all as Morgan Lockneed"
"That vile bit of work? That is who came to tell you about this" came the hiss of Alecto, her grip upon the table turning her knuckles white "The Death Eater who deals in young Witches and Wizards"
"The very same Alecto. And while you may not agree with his methods, he has converted many of our future followers. The fruits of his labor are already in Hogwarts, Illvermony, and even Beauxbatons. He has done what many of us haven't" Igor spoke.
Alecto was about to retort when a cloud of smoke slowly curled into the chair, the wizard in question Apparating into view.
"Please, Igor, you are making me blush" came a decidedly German accent. Unlike the others at the table, the man kept his appearance shrouded behind a thick cloak and concealment charms "Though you are right, I have managed to get more agents into Hogwarts the Tom Riddle ever could"
"How can we even believe the words of someone whose face has never been seen. All you are to us is a voice" continued Alecto
"Oh, just a voice" spoke Morgan, his accent shifting from German to Italian "I am more
than just a voice, my dear dear witch" his cloak once more turning to smoke as he appeared behind Alecto, prompting her brother to draw his wand. A pale hand; smooth and youthful, snaked from out the cloak, tracing a line along the throat of Alecto. Even though he couldn't see it, as the darkened hood looked his way, Amycus knew trying to hex him would be a bad idea.
"I am the future of this order. If you wish to have a future yourself, I suggest you step in line and not speak ill of me" his voice suddenly lacked any accent, or even gender signifier. It was low, wispy, and brought a chill to the air. Without warning, he was back in his chair, leaving behind a trail of smoke, and a terrified Alecto, a burn mark in the shape of a hand upon her neck.
"Now, for the rest in attendance, I think you all get the picture. I am not one to be questioned or tested. Much like you, I grew tired of the control in place by Riddle. I tire of his petty rivalry with Dumbledore. How he is foiled by a Muggle raised child. I grow bored with his antics. His sudden vanishing is proof that he isn't the leader we need any more. We need one that will bring the Death Eater order to task, and to subjugate this world.
"And you are suggestion yourself" spoke Fenrir, who had stayed silent, but kept his teeth bared, in case he felt the need to rush across the table and rip the man apart.
"Naturally. After all, I have many eyes and ears in the one place Riddle could never get into, Hogwarts. I have the added bonus of being utterly unknown. Riddle got too large, too noticeable. He let his ego get the best of him and he is losing control of the very order he founded. I feel that it is time for a change. All I ask is for you to trust me. I don't require silly pledges, or for you to bare my mark. Just trust that I will give you the world on a platter. All you must do is heed my words"
It was hard to deny that the man, or woman, spoke with all the charismatic grace of a true leader. Their voice held a combination of both power and guile. Like under a trance, the four Death Eaters all nodded together, seeing the truth in his words.
"Now, before we begin bringing the others to our side, I must confess one thing. Riddle and I do share one thing in common. An obsession with one Harry Potter. He is a figure head, and fixated point of hope for the Wizarding world"
"What are your plans for him" spoke Lucius, his curiosity growing ever faster "WIll you finally kill him, unlike Riddle ever could"
"Kill him? No, that is far too easy, and not nearly as fun. I want to break him. Reduce him to the pathetic child he is. I want him at my feet, begging for my mercy. And that is where he will stay. At. My. Feet' those last words were spoken with something far more sinister than just the threat of death. The words, the felt wrong, evil, as if the speaker of such things was plotting to do dark things to the boy who lived. They all knew of Morgan's reputation, and even the darker rumors. For once, five Death Eaters felt a pang of pity for Harry Potter
"I can't believe I agreed to this" came the clearly irritated voice of one Harry Potter, as he pulled rather nervously at the collared shirt Snape had lent him.
The young man was curled up upon one of the large chairs within the library at Prince Manor, a rather thick looking book across his lap. It was the only place he thought Snape would never come looking for him. Perhaps if he hid out here, then he could avoid having to deal with Malfoy and his impending arrival. The thought having to see Malfoy was bad enough, but then to know that he would question just why he was here, that was what made his stomach turn. The only saving grace in all of this was the book in his lap. It seemed to be relatively new, and from what he caught from Snape though his haze of anger, spelled to only allow him to see a few pictures of his mother. Part of him felt bitter for knowledge of his mother being limited for an arbitrary reason, yet when he saw that first picture, he decided to let it go.
Even now, as he picked up the red leather book and cracked it open, the fact he would soon be spending time with Draco didn't seem so bad with his Mother's face smiling up at him. Like the photo he had found before, it was over a much younger Lily, when she was still an Evans. Each one seemed to have his mother smiling, full of life or wonder. Harry would have questioned why Snape had so many pictures of her, but he was glad to have what he did.
Stroking a photo of his Mother standing over a brewing cauldron, Harry heaved a sigh before letting the book close again. Snape knew so much about her, and it made Harry feel all the more conflicted about the man. It was no secret between the two of them that the long-haired man loved Lily, but how much? Was it ever returned, or were these the pictures of a stalker with a crush that had been taken too far? It was hard to tell, as Snape was a hard man to read, his intention even tougher to do so. Perhaps, if things went well today, he could try and pry something else out of Snape about his Mother. Maybe then he would know for sure if he was a stalker that had a far too strong obsession. Provided he survived his day with Draco.
A shiver of what he always thought was disgust ran across his body. It always did that whenever Draco entered his mind. Followed closely by the sensation of his stomach flip-flopping. It was clear his body was disgusted by Draco, at least that was the only way he could interpret it. They, the feelings, only seemed to grow as he had gotten older. At first, around Fourth year, he was convinced that Draco had cursed him, when he was looking at Draco and felt his chest flutter. He had gone to see Madam Pomfrey who only seemed able to chuckle at some unknown joke, before sending him off. He didn't know what was so funny, but as long as his life wasn't in danger from Malfoy, Harry figured he could live with it. Still, he didn't really know how to explain those moments when he would lock eyes with Draco and feel...something beyond their mutual hate for one another. For just a few moments, Harry could look in those eyes and just feel...something. Something that seemed to get him swept up and lost in the moment. Then he would be pulled right back into reality by Draco's trademark insults. Perhaps it was some new spell that Draco was using, one to confuse him.
Whatever it was, Harry was certain he would keep a more watchful eye on Draco, just in case he did suddenly decide to become hostile. Opening the book to a new page, another photo began to materialize. This one was different from the others, as there was no evidence of Hogwarts castle in sight. Instead it was of his Mother, swinging on a worn out plank of wood. She had to be at least twelve in this photo, and was no doubt smiling at SNape who was behind the camera. As the magically animated picture moved, Harry found himself staring thoughtfully at it. Was this where they grew up together? A park where they would come and talk about their lives beyond Hogwarts? The more he stared, the more he questioned what their lives would have been like if Voldemort were never a thing. If Harry hadn't been born? Would those two have eventually found their way back to one another?
His eyes were still cast down on the picture when he noticed something else. Just there, right in the shadow of the tree, he could see movement. Even with his new glasses he could just barely make it out. Ever so often something would fidget from within the tree's shadow. Peering closer, Harry could make out a long neck, and a face pulled back in disgust.
"Freak!" the word suddenly screeched into his ears, prompting him to toss the book away and cower in a ball. She was back. His Aunt was back and had caught him goofing off.
Harry could feel the oppressive walls of the cupboard around him, the thundering steps of his Uncle coming to get him. 'THUD' 'THUD' 'THUD' Every heavy footfall seemed to inspire dread. He had to escape, get away. Get help. Staying curled up as he was wasn't going to help. Heart pounding wildly, the young man risked a glimpse between his arms, and suddenly felt rather silly. He wasn't at Privet Drive. He was still in Prince Manor. Despite this, everything he saw felt too real. He could still smell the damp and moldy cupboard. His entire body could feel the phantom vibrations of his Uncle storming down the steps. It was like his nightmares, but far more visceral. He hadn't thought about them in ages, in fact he was actively trying not to. It seemed, however, his mind was having other ideas.
No longer feeling in the mood to sit in the library alone, Harry figured he may as well find Pippy again. Or, depending on how much he didn't want to be alone, Snape. As he stood, the young man felt the world turn on its end, his foot slipping out from under him, sending him crashing towards the floor. His glasses skittered across the floor, leaving him visually challenged as he rolled onto his back, groaning in pain.
"On your back just like your whore of a mother" came the cruel words of his Uncle, his face suddenly fading into view. The hot breath of Vernon bathed across his face, as that thick meaty hand gripped his throat
"Useless. Just like her. I wonder if she could have taken a few more hits than you did" the phantom Dursley said, as the pain from the strike he spoke of radiated from his right eye.
Harry struggled to find a grip on his sanity. It wasn't real, it couldn't be real. Yet, it all felt real. He could feel the hand on his throat. Slowly it was pressing harder and harder on his windpipe, making it all the tougher to breath. His hand reached out for his left arm and pressed into it tightly.
"It isn't real. It isn't real" he chanted over and over again, focusing in on the pain that was blossoming from his arm. It felt red hot, burned fiercely. He could feel blood welling up from behind the makeshift wrap he fashioned from one of the cleaning towels from the day before. The longer he pressed into those wounds, the faster the image of Vernon faded away, until he was looking up at a fuzzy ceiling. The pressure in his chest was gone, taking with it the sense of suffocation. Heaving a sigh of relief, Harry looked at his arm, trying to see if any blood had managed to soak into the shirt. The cloth was a dark blue color, and luckily, the few spots of blood that did soak beyond the makeshift band-aid weren't too noticeable.
Harry laid there, staring up at his arm, or rather past it. His eyes seemed to be a bit glazed over, as his mind began to wrestle with what just happened. It was like his nightmares had come to life. He was used to being attacked by a dream version of his Aunt and Uncle on an almost nightly basis, but he had often been free of such things when morning came along. Yet now...now they seemed to want to plague him while awake. Harry could only hope that it was a one time thing, as he didn't need hallucinations to go with his long list of other issues.
"Mister Potter" came the voice of Pippy, who appeared with a sudden crack beside his head. "Mistress Malfoy and her son Mister Draco have arrived. Shall I help you to your feet to go greet them"
"No Pippy" Harry managed to get out, as he staggered to his feet. Bending down, he padded out for the blurry shape that was his glasses, though Pippy beat him to the punch, passing them into his hands. With his vision restored, able to see Pippy standing before him, Harry gave the House Elf a thankful smile "I think I can manage to make it down there myself. Besides, I'm not in the biggest rush to see Malfoy" he continued, as he grabbed the photo album, clutching it close to his chest.
"Well Master Snape is awaiting you in the Drawing Room alongside his guest. I suggest rushing if yous want to stay on his good side"
With a snort at the idea of Snape having a good side, Harry did take her words to heart and made way for the rooms exit. His first stop would be the room, to at least drop off the photo album. Not only that, but to also change the strips of cloth on his arm. If anything, he didn't want to run the risk of staining the nice shirt Snape had given him. Not only that, but years of having to patch himself up instilled a need to keep clean wrappings on any of his wounds, self-inflicted or otherwise.
Meanwhile, within one of the many drawing rooms in Prince Manor, Snape was already in conversations with Narcissa, while Draco was doing what his Father had always drilled into him, being seen and not heard. For the most part, he was keeping to himself, looking over a few titles the filled the shelves of the drawing room. Mostly potion books, but they were always more interesting than listening in on his mother's conversations. However, that didn't stop him on picking up on some of what they were saying.
"So" continued Narcissa, who was seated across from Snape, looking far more comfortable here than she did in her own home "How is your guest doing"
"Fine. For the most part, though I would rather we didn't speak about him now" muttered Snape, clearly trying to wait to the last minute to reveal the fact that Potter was staying in his home to Draco.
"Someone is staying with you Sev" Draco spoke, using a name for his GodFather that was to only be spoken within the walls of his home.
"In fact he does my son" interjected Narcissa quickly, heading off Snape before he could speak, "Another student of his, one that you know rather well, is staying with your GodFather for the summer"
"Really? I know you said you'd make any Snakes that flunked potions work over the summer with you, but I didn't think you would do it. Is it Zanibi, oh please let it be him. I would love to lord this over him
"A Slytherin doesn't lord anything over his fellow housemates. Not only that, but my Snakes know better than to fail my class" he said with a sneer. However it was true, he often threatened those Snakes in danger of failing with a Summer vacation spent under his care. In the fifteen years he had been doing so, no Snake ever dared to get below High Marks in his class.
"Regardless of who it is, you will treat them with every ounce of respect befitting a Slytherin. I will not have a miniature Wizarding War taking place in my house" continued Snape, making sure to keep his eyes level with his GodSon. He really didn't want to have either one of the boys come into contact with one another. If he had it his way, both boys would have been confined to different parts of the estate, unaware of the other. However, Narcissa and her hunches had often proven to be correct, even if the consequences were...unfavorable. For now, he would play along, see where this would lead. At worst, the two boys would devolve into their usual bickering and may sequester themselves from one another. That, the more he thought about it, may be more of the best outcome. At least for his sanity. And his personal belongings.
"As long as it isn't some snobbish, self-righteous Gryffindor. Gods, they can be so self-centered, ignoring everyone else around them an-
"Please, continue Draco, what else do you think about my House"
The air in the drawing room went still, as the voice of an unannounced Harry came from the door, his hands clenched tightly into a fist. Neither occupant had heard him open the door, though it was pretty clear he had been there long enough to at least hear the start of Draco's tirade about Gryffindor's.
"P-Potter? Potter is staying in your house" it was less of a question and more of a statement, as Draco stared at one of the primary focuses for much of his adolescent life. Some many questions blossomed in his mind. So many things he could say. Something he had been dying for, a chance, an opportunity to speak with Harry beyond the walls of Hogwarts, beyond the place where their rivalry was expected.
Even though he couldn't see it, his Mother was smiling faintly, looking over her son, easily able to read the various thoughts and emotions that were flying across his face. A quick glance at Snape and, to her utter lack of shock, the man wasn't picking up on any of the obvious clues. For a spy, he was rather bad at reading things that were so simple. Then again, this was also the man who never noticed his love being returned by Lily till much later in life.
"Yes, Draco. Mister Potter is staying here for the Summer. Under the order of the Headmaster no less. Apparently, he feels that, after his rather disastrous shenanigans at the end of Fifth Year, he needs a...closer eye on him. To make sure no one else suffers for his...carelessness" Snape responded coolly, slipping into his more "Dungeon Bat' persona. It was so much easier to do that, than try to explain the truth behind Potter's stay. That, and he had a feeling that the young man didn't want Draco knowing too much about his real reason for staying. Snape took a glance at Potter, expecting to see some form of gratitude for his discretion. Instead, the young Lion was glaring daggers at the Potions Master, his eyes looking cloudy, as if he was fighting back a well of emotions.
"Harry, please, come here dear, so I can check on you" Narcissa quickly interjected, not waiting for the young man to move before she got up from her chair and went over to him "I need to give you another once over, see how you are coming along. Are you taking those potions I gave you" she questioned quickly, before standing between him and Snape, waving her wand about his body, as information began to appear on a scroll that materialized from the air.
"It seems you arm is healed up rather well. It will still be a bit stiff, but that will go away in time. Same with your ribs as well" she began to mutter, just loud enough for Harry to hear. Maybe Snape if he bothered to pay attention. "You still needed to bump up how you are eating. Those potions are meant to be supplements, not replacements" she continued to fuss over Harry, who had gone from looking rather angry, to embarrassed, his face flushed as Narcissa continued to talk about his overall health. It was nice, he rationalized, to have someone looking after him just out of compassion, and not out of obligation like Madame Pomfrey. If it wasn't for her job, he was pretty sure that the Medi-Witch wouldn't have given him or his injuries a second glance. Mrs. Malfoy, however, she was different. Felt different, as if she cared more about him, and less about doing this as a job.
While Narcissa was going over Harry, and trying her best to get the young Wizard to understand the importance of eating well, Snape and Draco were pulled into their own conversation, one prompted by a still shocked Draco.
"Wh-why is he here? This...this isn't some plan to sell him out to You-Know-Who, is it" questioned Draco, that last part filled with a bit of malice, though Snape didn't know if it was aimed at him, or at Voldemort.
"Of course not, the Headmaster wants Potter kept out of trouble. Keeping him with the Weasley clan would have been the utter opposite. That, and no one else is currently able to house Potter, hence why I have had to open my doors to him"
"If it is to keep him out of trouble, then why is Mother treating him like a patient. Something happened to him, over the summer, didn't it? With his relatives, the Muggles"
There was a beat of silence between the two, as Snape tried to find a way to twist this away from the truth. However, if there was one thing he knew about his GodSon, it was how perceptive he could be about things. Though he was curious as to how Draco even knew about Potter's living situation, or even the fact that he was staying with his Muggle relatives.
"Potter's friends aren't the best at discretion" Draco spoke, answering the unspoken question, "I overheard them in the library once, talking about how his Aunt and Uncle aren't the best Muggles. I'm guessing that they kicked him out and HeadMaster made you watch him"
"Well, if that is what you see, then that is all you will know" Snape responded, glad that Draco wasn't too perceptive. He didn't want the young man to know of the level of abuse Potter faced. Best to just let him think Potter was kicked out, and nothing more. "Regardless, I want you to be civil with Potter. At least while under this roof. I do not fancy having an already overly emotional Lion in my home getting into fights with an equally overly emotional Snake"
"I am not overly emotional" retorted an affronted Draco, his insulted tone of voice only proving his GodFathers point. With a huff and arms crossed, Draco cast a glance over at Potter.
There was something almost indescribably serene about looking at him. This was probably the closest he had been to Potter in sometime. At least not when words of hate and malice were being spread. He looked too skinny, looking so much smaller and frail for his age. Draco often wondered how he was able to stay on a broom without being swept away. Probably that stubborn will of his. Regardless, his stature and size did little to detract Draco. So many thoughts ran in his head, all of them centered around the Lion in the room. Perhaps, if Fate was such a thing, this was it's way of giving him a second chance. HAdn't he been pinning for such a thing since the end of Fifth Year? He wouldn't screw it up, he would put his best foot forward and show Harry that he had changed, was capable of being more than just a Snake.
"You can't stare me out of existence Malfoy, so stop trying" were the words that brought Draco back to reality, and to the awkward realization he had been staring headlong at Harry the entire time. With a blush, he quickly turned away, kicking himself for acting so much like a love struck First Year.
"You would do well to remember our conversation Potter" warned Snape, who paid little heed to his GodSons reaction towards Harry. While Snape was certain Potter needed very little reminding of their bargain, he knew just how quick the young man's temper could be. All it took was the warning and a gaze from Snape to get Harry to bite his tongue.
"I'm sure the boys will be fine Severus, besides, you and I still have things to discuss, and I'm sure you'd rather not spend all your time keeping them out of trouble" Narcissa led on, after giving Harry a clean bill of health. Clean enough to leave the Drawing Room so both she and Severus could chat. His actual health was still rather dismal. She was surprised that he was even standing considering his lack of nutrition, and his still healing body.
"Indeed. Draco, seeing as I have much better things to do than give Potter a tour of Prince Manor, please do so. Recall that you are both guest in this house, and will treat it with the same respect you treat me" Snape made sure to look both young man in the eye, settling on Harry for a bit longer "And that goes double for you Mister Potter, or our agreement will be null and void"
Waving them off, paying little mind to what was more than likely a foul swear under the breath of Potter, Snape turned his attention to Narcissa, who waited till the door shut behind the boys and the privacy spells flared to life.
"You really are pants at this Gaurdian deal Sev" she spat, casting would could only be described as a withering gaze towards her friend
"It has only been a few days Narcissa, you can't expect me to master this in such a short time. Not only that, but beyond keeping track of his basic needs, Potter will be fine"
"And there goes all that progress, lost to your own insecurities"
"What does that mea-"
"You know damn well what I mean" hissed Narcissa, cutting of the Potions Master without missing a step "The boy hasn't eaten a proper meal in ages, I am pretty sure any good will he may have had towards you is faltering, and are you bribing him to behave around Draco" came the rapid fire questions from a seemingly irked Narcissa.
"I took your advice and used something the boy would love to know to get him to behave, and I shouldn't have to manage something as basic as the boys eating habits. He is Fifteen afterall"
"You bloody idiot, considering what Harry has been through, do you really think taking care of himself is at the top of his list. Not only that, I said talk him about stuff he liked to get him to open up to you, not to manipulate him for your own use. He probably gets enough of that from the HeadMaster"
"I was not going to just sit around and wait for Harry to instigate a brawl with Draco over something foolish in this house" Snape spoke with a restrained tone, that it was clear the Malfoy Matron's words had slipped under his skin "If using Lily to get her son to behave is what it takes, then that is what I shall do. I may have resolved to be nicer towards the boy, but that does not mean I will let him run amuck"
Narcissa scoffed, before turning her gaze towards the floo, looking at the swirling ashes kicked up from the open flume,
"He needs something more than just you being nicer, and when are you going to realize that what he needs is only something you can provide"
"Whatever you are implying, I am sure Potter will be fine without it. Now, putting this behind us, to what do I owe this visit, as I am sure you didn't come here to just berate me over my treatment of Potter"
"No, I didn't, though I wish I didn't have to. No, I came over here because Lucius has just given me some rather interesting news. Tell me, have you heard from Voldemort"
Severus stiffened, waiting for the telltale burn of the Dark Mark, spelled to flare to life with a searing pain whenever his name was spoken without the Dark Lords express permission. Instead of the searing pain, however, Snape felt...nothing. Well, that wasn't the correct thing to say, he did feel something. Something he hadn't felt in sometime, a sense of ease.
"I guess Lucius wasn't joking when he said that the Mark had lost its magic"
"Explain" spoke Severus, looking at the mark on his arm, masking his emotions as best as he could. There was no telling what this really was. It could be a ruse on the part of the Dark Lord, a test to see just who was his most faithful.
"I know what you are thinking, but I highly doubt that Voldemort considers my dear husband among his inner circle. There would be no way he'd still be standing if Voldemort knew he called him by his...real name"
A blank look crossed Severus face, who flicked out his wand towards a blank spot in the wall. The wood panels slid aside, revealing the hovering silver disc that was his Pensive. Directing the disc between the two of them, Snape gestured towards Narcissa, prompting her to pull out her own wand and focus on her conversation with her husband before they left. Soon, the silvery wisp that was the memory slowly began to emerge from her temple, before it was cast into the shimmering liquid of the Pensive. Without a moment's hesitation, Severus plunged his head into the memory.
The click of the door seemed to echo in the house, as Draco and Harry were both shut off from whatever conversation that was about to take place. While Draco was used to such actions, and had learn not to over think them, years of having his own fate handled for him had often made Harry wary when adults talked behind closed doors. Even moreso considering that Snape was the one behind the door.
For a moment, Harry mused trying to find a way to eavesdrop on the conversation, wishing he still had a few of those enchanted extendable ears from Fred and George. Thinking on that, it dawned on harry that he was still missing his stuff. Used to living his summers magic-less it really hadn't occurred to him that he needed to get his trunk and wand from Grimmauld Place. Though, the thought of walking down those halls with no Sirius in sight made the notion a bit sour.
"Staring at the door isn't going to make hearing what they are saying any easier. Sev's wards privacy wards are iron tight" came the voice of Draco, bringing Harry's mind off of Sirius for the moment.
"Listen, Malfoy, I know you don't fancy being anywhere around me, and neither do I. So How about I go my way, you go yours and we just tell them that we behaved like the would want us to" Harry snapped back, feeling his ire towards Draco rising. At least he thought it was ire, as he turned to face Draco in full. He had felt the slight anger and irritation towards Draco building since Snape informed him that he was to be civil with the Ferret, and now, it seemed to be slowly diminishing. Instead it was replaced by that same feeling from before, a slight fluttering in his chest, his breathing feeling a bit labored. Draco hadn't cursed him, as the raven haired wizard hadn't seen a wand. In fact, nothing about Draco's posture seemed threatening. It seemed more tense, to be sure, almost bordering on nervous, but nothing that spoke to him wanting to attack. Harry knew what Draco looked like when he was about to attack, or go for his wand, here he just looked...well almost normal. Normal enough for Harry to actually take a longer look at his long time foil. Had his hair always been so smooth and well-managed? What about his body, had it always looked so slender and powerful? More importantly, since when did Harry start questioning just what Draco looked like?
"As much as I would love to do that" Draco spoke once more, and like before, his voice easily able to bring Harry from the confusing train of thought running in his head "I am not one to spend time alone in Prince Manor. It can be rather lonely"
"Oh, so you just want to bring me along as a punching bag for when you get bored of staring at the walls" retorted Harry, though the comment felt far more light than was intended, which earned an uncharacteristic chuckle from Draco.
"No, I don't think Severus would enjoy me beating on you, even if you are among his least favorite Lions. Actually, it is because I wanted to talk to you. Something we have never really done"
"Well, you are a spiteful, Muggle born hating, Pure Blood git; who, I may add, seems to have a thing for hating me. So I fail to see how us not talking is an issue"
Draco had to bite his lip, trying his best to simmer down the bevy of insults he could lob at Harry. Mentally he reminded himself that everything Harry did say was true. While he didn't outright buy into blood superiority, and his jealousy of Harry's friends had led to some verbal discourse between them, Harry was correct. In the years of knowing each other, he had done little to endear himself to the Savior of the Wizarding World. Well, if he was going to try and do so now, it would be best to swallow his pride, and work beyond those comments
"Look" Draco picked up, shifting his stance to appear a bit more commanding and direct, one of the few useful things he picked up from his father "You are right, I have done nothing but be an outright arse to you for four-"
"Five years" Harry cut in, earning him a dark glare from the Slytherin that made Harry clam up, though a smirk still curled about his lips
"Five years, and I have done nothing to improve the situation. Granted, you haven't either, but seeing as you are a stubborn and head strong Gryffindor, it is on actually do something about it"
"What are you getting at Malfoy" spoke a wary Harry. He kept his eyes centered on Draco, still reading his body for any tell-tale signs of this being a trick, though he would be lying if the Slytherins words didn't catch his interest
"What I am getting at is that….well...I want to apologise. And, hopefully attempt to start off on the right toe, as the Muggles say"
For a moment, both Draco and Harry just stared at one another, both trying to read the other. Then, after a few more moments of silence, a snicker broke out from between the lips of Harry, one that soon tumbled into a full blown laugh. It was enough to not only break the silence between them, but also quickly darken Draco's mood.
"I guess that is what I get, for trying to actually extended my arm outwards in a show of pe-"
"No. No, it isn't that" Harry managed to get out, his face slowly going back to his natural complexion after turning red from laughter "It is what you said"
"How is that supposed to be any better" spoke a fuming Draco, still trying to find out what was so funny, if Harry wasn't laughing at his honest attempt at an apology
"Right foot. Not right leg" Harry managed to correct Draco, having regained his own composure, though the action did leave his glasses askew
"What does a leg have to do with anything"
"The Muggle saying. It is "start off on the right foot" not leg. I just pictured you trying to figure out why anyone would want to start off on their right toe is all"
"If you are implying that I took such a simple Muggle idiom seriously, then you are sorely mistaken Potter" Draco spoke quickly, though his slight blush told otherwise. He had heard it spoken once, when he overheard one of the Muggle Borns in the library use it. It confused him, yes, but he at least understood the context it was used in.
"Regardless, seeing as you are not taking my offer seriously, maybe I will take your advice and go my sep- what are you doing"
Malfoy had posed the question as he looked at Harry, rather Harry's outstretched hand. In the moment, he felt his mind go back to his First Year, when he had offered his own hand to Harry and was coldly shot down.
"It is called a handshake, you must know about that. You offered one to me five years ago"
"Yeah, and you rejected me and what I had to offer that night"
"I-I know. I didn't give you a chance then, but, if you are willing to apologise and try to start again, so am I. And, I think it is fitting that I offer my handshake to you, though I understand if you don't want to take it"
Draco looked at that hand. A hand he thought about shaking before he arrived at Hogwarts. One he wanted to shake at first year. A hand that managed to snatch a snitch right in front of him. A hand that had casted some spectacular spells. A hand that often shook with worry, or fear. Or vibrated with determination and rage. Here it was, that hand, reaching out to him. After all this time. Reaching out, Draco clasped his hand tightly into Harry's, with it came a rush of what could only be described as sparks. The young man felt the hair along his neck stand on end, as a shiver ran across his spine. The very touch of Harry's skin on his felt electrifying, an addicting sensation he didn't want to end. Glancing up at Harry's face, the young man was heavily blushing, his eyes wide, as if trying to find someway to describe what just happened. Just as Draco was about to say something, Harry sntached his hand away, stuffing it into his pocket.
"Yeah, uhm, I guess consider this the start to trying again" Harry stated rather quickly, before looking anywhere else other than Draco, suddenly finding the rafters very interesting.
"Indeed, as such, let me give you a proper tour of the House of Prince, as I doubt Sev has ever bothered to give you one"
"Considering our history, why should that be a shocker" Harry muttered, before he found himself being pulled along by a suddenly enthusiastic Draco, whose hand was warmly wrapped around his arm. The same hand that had delivered that warm, blissful sensation just a few moments ago. Even now, his hand still radiated with it, leaving Harry to question if Draco had just poisoned him, or was there something else going on with his body?