His hair was black.

Draco stared at himself in disgust, running the fingers of both his hands through his now inky black hair. Not only was it black, but it was just as unruly as Potter's had always been, slightly curly and never willing to behave. He'd been trying to flatten it for quite a while now, but so far he had had no luck.

Uncle Severus was in the other room, getting him something to eat and supposedly calling his "parents". He still couldn't bring himself to think of them as anything other than his mother and father, hard as he tried. How did one stop thinking of their parents as their parents?

Pursing his lips tightly together, Draco turned away from the slightly nauseating sight in the mirror, eyes narrowed slightly as he took in the room around him. It was Uncle Severus' room, and he'd never had more than a glimpse of it -- he'd certainly never entered into it.

The room was meticulously clean, almost to the point of looking unlived in. On second though, Draco could easily see Severus setting up a cot in his private potions lab, locking himself away down there for days on end. It certainly went with his dungeon lurker image.

Severus had sent him in hereto make himself "presentable", however, and Draco had had every intention of doing just that. Now, though, he had to admit it was a losing battle. His hair just wouldn't lie flat.

And so he had taken to surveying the room around him, knowing full well that the chances of him being allowed in here again were slim to none. And a Malfoy always took notice of everything around them -- you never knew when that knowledge might come in useful.

He'd never taken to that particular skill, not the way his mother and father had. It was a miracle that he'd gotten in to Slytherin, or so his mother had said once when she thought he wasn't listening.

He could hear raised voices on the other side of the door know, one his father's, and the other Uncle Severus'. Whatever they were talking about, his father was angry. Probably with him, for leaving like he had. He hadn't even told a House Elf where he was going, had just lit out of there like the hounds of Hades were on his heels.

As he eased the door open a fraction, however, Draco's eyes widened in surprise at the sight of his father standing bare inches from the man Draco had always heard him refer to as his best friend, eyes narrowed in anger. Severus stood stoically calm, the only sign of his distress the way his lips were pressed tightly together, thinned to a straight line. It was his father's words, however, that gave him pause.

"Trust you? Why, pray tell, should I trust you, Severus? You knew. You knew about the switch -- hell, you participated! You took my son, my blood, and replaced him with some child I'd never even laid eyes on. I love Draconis, Severus. You know that. But ... hell, he isn't my son, is he? And I have you to thank for that. For all of this."

Lucius turned away from his childhood friend, eyes widening slightly as he took in Draco, barely visible behind the bedroom door. His eyes were wide with surprise, but it was Severus that he was staring at, not Lucius.

"You knew?" He spoke so softly, they might not have heard him if the room hadn't been quite so still. But his voice rang out loudly in the otherwise silent room, and Lucius pursed his lips as he turned to look at the dark haired man with a raised eyebrow.

"It was to protect you, Draco. When your mother learned of the prophesy ..."

Lucius started at that, turning to stare at his friend with wide eyes. "It was meant for Draco, wasn't it? He was the one who was supposed to be marked."

"I don't know, Luc. It doesn't make any sense -- never did. Potter shouldn't have been marked -- you were loyal to the Dark Lord at the time, and Potter's birthday is all wrong. he was born in December, not July. I don't know what any of this means."

Lucius sighed, turning away from the potions master again and holding out a hand to the now dark-haired boy. "Come on, Draco. Let's go home. Your mother is all worked up over your disappearance.

Draco nodded, still in a daze as he moved toward his father. He no longer looked at Severus, and made a wide berth around Severus as he moved to join his father. And while Severus knew that he did it unconsciously, it still hurt to know he had lost the boy's trust, and faith.

He had grown close to Draco over the years. He had seen so much of Lily in the boy, enough that he could sometimes forget just who his father was. Sometimes.

--

Lucius left his wife and son as soon as he was sure that Draco wasn't going to bolt again, running his fingers through his inky black hair with a small smile as he turned toward the door. A quick spell brought a house elf to him, and he quickly told the little being what he wanted before turning toward Potter's room.

He entered without knocking, noting the open balcony doors with a small smile. Narcissa loved her balcony's, and had them placed at various spots throughout the house. Perhaps Potter had inherited that love.

Draco had always thought them frivolous, and hated the out of doors. He had only decided to play Quidditch as a way of besting Potter.

"I could jump, you know. Probably be a better end than whatever you have planned for me."

Lucius started at that, quickly making his way to the open double doors and staring at the dark-haired youth leaning against the balcony railing, staring down at the grounds below.

"The shields would stop you, and alert me to your attempt. Don't make me confine to the in-doors, Harry." He forced himself to use that first name, even though it felt strange on his tongue, like some foreign substance that didn't belong anywhere near him.

Harry's hands tightened around the railing he was leaning against, staring down at the pristine lawns. The house elf was still there, working busily away, and Harry couldn't help but be a bit envious of the little creature, free to move around as he pleased, with no shields or men to stand in his way. The only thing that kept that little creature here, was it's own will. Well, that and the laws of the wizarding world. But no spells, no charms, no shields.

"I didn't bring you here to harm you." Lucius came to stand beside the younger man, placing his hands on the railing and leaning against it in a while that almost identically mirrored that of his biological son's stance. Harry didn't noticed this, however, too busy glaring out over the grounds.

"Then why? For tea and scones?!" Instead of his voice raising, Harry's voice only got softer with his anger, and Lucius winced internally as he realized that Harry had inherited the one thing from Narcissa he had been hoping would have been lost.

Her temper. Her way of getting only more and more quiet, more and more calm, the angrier she got. It was what won her most of her arguments -- when other people got emotional, she just got cold, and calculating, allowing her to see every angle of whatever problem, or predicament was facing her. He didn't know about the calmness, but Harry had certaintly inherited the quietness.

But no, his voice was filled with emotion when he talked, wasn't it? Tight with it, as if he were barely holding the flood gates of his anger. Not that controlling him would be a problem for Lucius, especially with his magic bound in this room as it was. One spell, and the boy would begin to feel the effects.

"Harry, there are some thing you don--" Lucius paused, truly looking at his companion for the first time.

"Where is your scar?"

Harry glanced up sharply at that, hand flying to his forehead as he stared quizzically at the older man, before his eyes, too, widened in surprise and his fingers danced over the now smooth skin of his forehead, searching for the familiar feel of his lightening bolt shaped scar. "What did you do?"

Lucius simply stared at the boy, for once at a loss for words, and with a sinking feeling in his gut realized that there was one plausible explanation.

What spells had Severus used? They were wearing off now, yes, but had those spells made the children switch in blood as well as in appearance? And the curse mark -- it was tied to blood, as witnessed by the fact that it was only the boy's blood that had protected him from the Dark Lord and his followers all these years.

But now that blood had changed, and the mark had followed that blood ...

Straight to Draco.

--

Curses were different from hexes, in that they had a sort of sentience all their own, able to change and adapt to their environment just as a human being, or other magical creature could change and adapt. They had no personalities, no needs and wants of their own, no true thoughts. But they did have a sentience, of a sort.

And it was that sentience that had allowed the curse mark to carry over in to Draco. At least, that was what his father had said.

Draco stared at himself in the mirror, green eyes bright with unshed tears.

He'd thought he was ready to take on anything the world threw at him. But not this. To be the target of the Dark Lord, rather than his pupil, his loyal follower ...

Would the years he had spent in training, a loyal servant to the Dark, matter at all to Lord Voldemort? Or would this curse scar be all that mattered, in the end?

And would the curse scar have even mattered? Just looking like Potter, just knowing that his own mother had, indeed, been a mudblood -- would that have been enough to condemn him in the eyes of Voldemort, and thus, the Death Eaters?

Draco slumped down into a nearby chair, for once not caring how he would look to anybody watching. What point was there anymore, anyway? To watching what he did, how he acted? He was Potter, the idiotic imbecile known for daring acts of bravery and foolhardiness.

He barely even noticed when a slight tapping sounded at his door, glancing up morosely as Lucius Malfoy slid the door open partway and slipped inside, closing the door behind him.

"Draco…" Lucius sighed softly, for once not knowing what to say, or even where to begin. What did one say in a situation like this?

Draco merely turned to stare at the long, white curtains that hid his own balcony from view, closed as they always were at this time of day. The only time he truly enjoyed the out of doors was at night, when everything was quiet and no house elves could be seen working on the grounds. It was the time when he felt most a peace, when he could truly think without any other thoughts clouding his mind. He wished it were that time now, where he could go outside and sit on his balcony with his legs dangling over the edge, and just stare out into the night.

Lucius ran his fingers though his son's inky black hair, smiling a bit ruefully as he became lost in his own memories. "You wanted darker hair when you were younger, remember? You even got one of the house elves to get you some muggle dye, so you can dye it black. Your hands were stained wit the stuff for days afterwards."

"Only because you wouldn't cast a cleaning spell on me." Draco muttered, turning to stare at his father reproachfully. He had finally convinced one of their house elves, Dobby, to clean his hands for him, earning the house elf a sound beating afterwards for disobeying Lucius. But at least his hands had finally been clean of the foul-smelling liquid.

"It will be alright, Draconis. You do know that, right?" Lucius dropped a kiss on the top of his head, and Draco leaned into the touch for a moment before pulling away from his father with a frown.

"He's going to want to kill me now, isn't he? Like he wanted to kill Potter before?" Lucius smiled slightly at that, a slight twist of the lips that held no humor. "Yes, probably. But I'll try and speak with him, Draco. Reason with him. Until then, you need to stay out of sight. If worse comes to worse ... you just might have to put up with the Gryffindors a bit more than usual."

At Draco's confused look, Lucius elaborated. "I will not let him hurt you, my Dragon. No matter what -- even if we have to switch sides in this war, he will not hurt you. Your protection was the only reason I ever joined him in the first place."

Draco nodded at that, before lying his head on his father's shoulder and staring morosely across the room at nothing in particular. It was better than turning to face his father, and letting the man see his tears.

They stayed in that position for some time, before Lucius sighed heavily and moved to get up. "I have to go and check on Harry, but I'll be back, alright?" Draco nodded, moving to lay curled up on his bed, his arm tucked beneath his head and he closed his eyes.

Lucius stared at his son for a moment more, before letting loose a soft sigh and heading toward Potter's rooms.

He didn't feel ready for this, for the explanations that arguments that were sure to come. He had dealt with Potter -- with Harry -- before, and the boy was brash, and spoke his mind far too often. He would need to be broken of that habit, if he was to appear in public as a Malfoy. At least Draco's personality had not changed overmuch, with his change in appearance.

It was going to be a long night.

So sorry for the long delay between posts. I have been writing, just slowly. For those of you who might be interested, you can find my under-development chapters at the following url -- www . mellonin . net / create / . While it is full of grammatical errors, they usually aren't that bad :) Just slight typos from me typing too fast and not watching the screen enough :-

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