Sorry about the wait, but life got in the way. Hopefully this chapter is long enough to make up for it J It is one of my longest chapters thus far -- for any of my stories! 10+ pages! Enjoy J
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It was with great surprise that Lucius Malfoy opened the door -- to a sleeping Harry Potter. His blonde hair was splayed across the pillow, longer than Draco had ever grown it and free of that irritating hair gel the boy always seemed to get his hands on, even when he expressly forbid the house elves from getting it for him.
Harry shifted slightly in his sleep, and Lucius finally entered the rest of the way into the room, closing the door quietly behind him. The sound still jarred Harry out of his sleep, however, and he was quickly sitting upright on the bed, eyes sleepy as he took in the form of the man across the room.
Lucius said nothing, however, instead moving to take a seat on the teenagers bed. His silence seemed to unnerve Harry, however, who shifted away from him warily. "Are you going to tell me what's going on now?" The defiance and anger were gone from his voice, and Lucius smiled slightly at that, internally thankful that the boy seemed ready to actually listen to him now, rather than just attack him.
"I almost wish this hadn't happened." Lucius finally admitted softly, glancing up to meet the boy's gray eyes with a small twist to his lips, an ironic parody of a smile.
Harry merely raised an eyebrow, watching the older man warily as Lucius rose to his feet, walking over to the double doors that led out onto the balcony, throwing them open wide. He stood there for a moment, hands still gripping each of the doors, arms spread wide as he stared sightlessly down at the lake below them.
"I received a letter recently, from the Potters. James and Lily Potter. It explained Draco's changing appearance, and alerted me that you would be going through the same thing." Lucius finally turned to stare at the boy, sighing softly at the look in his face.
"My parents sent you a letter? How? They're dead. And why would they send you one and not me?"
Lucius withdrew a single piece of parchment from the inner pocket of his outer robes, holding it out and waiting for the boy to take it.
Harry rose from his perch on the side of the bed, carefully accepting the letter and skimming over it. After a moment, though, he stumbled back a little to sit on the end of the bed, lips parted slightly as he read the single page more carefully.
"Your lying." His hands were steady when he threw the letter toward Malfoy, not watching as it fluttered to the ground between them. His voice quavered, however, breath unsteady as he clenched his hands tightly together and stared down at the floor.
Lucius sighed, running a hand through his normally immaculate blonde hair as he rose to stand beside the young man who was now refusing to even look at him.
"Harry, I am not lying. What would I gain with this? I love Draco ... but I refuse to allow us -- all of us -- to live a lie. Is that what you want to do?" He knelt now, settling a hand on the youth's knee as he sought to catch his eye.
Harry merely grit his teeth, turning his head away when Lucius would have made eye contact. The older blonde sighed, slowly standing to his feet against the protestation of his knees.
"Call for a house-elf if you need anything. And I will be alerted if you try anything foolish on the balcony."
Harry waited until the door had closed behind the older man, before he let himself fall back on the bed with a sigh. He was up in an instant, however, scrambling along the bed until he could reach down and pluck the letter up.
It was addressed to him, but not to him. To the boy who should rightfully hold that name.
Harry drew in a shuddering breath, clenching the letter tightly in his left hand and clenching his other hand over his closed fist. He brought his joined hands up to his lips, eyes squeezed tightly shut as he collapsed onto the ground with a small cry.
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Narcissa Malfoy had never been one for public displays of affection. The same could not be said, however, for private displays. In the privacy of her own home, she was open and caring, the coldness reserved for those not part of her immediate family. This had been true even as a child, and thus she had always been perceived as a very cold, callous individual.
Draco had never shared these traits, and she had always assumed he took after her cousin, Sirius, in that regard. Now she knew better, though. Now she knew where he got his quick temper. How he came by the explosive displays of emotion that were so uncommon for a Malfoy -- or a Black.
And the Potter boy ... she had never really paid much attention to him, rarely even gave the boy a thought except that both her husband and her son seemed so preoccupied with him. Draco, especially. The two seemed always to be fighting, like some rabid dog.
But Potter was never the one to start the fight. Indeed, he was usually not even the one to fight back, leaving that to his friends, Ronald Weasley in particular. He was more one to hang back, from what she had been able to gather. To let a situation play itself out, before he got involved.
That sounded a bit more like a son of hers.
Narcissa sipped idly from her tea, staring out the open double doors of her balcony. She doubted any of them had gotten any sleep last night, and she knew, deep down, that those sleepless nights would continue for some time.
Narcissa tucked a wayward strand of blonde hair behind her ear, standing to her feet and wandering out onto her private balcony. Did Harry enjoy these views as she did? Draco never had, although his father would sometimes join her in the early morning hours for a sip of tea.
Lucius, that is. Not James Potter.
Truth be told, she had never really had a problem with James. He had seemed nice enough, though a tad too innocent in the ways of the world. She had harbored a school-girl crush on him for a short time, before Lucius had swept her off her feet. Theirs was a love for the story books, an arrange marriage that resulted in love before they were ever wed. Not many were as lucky as she had been, something she was reminded of, every day.
Bella. Her sister. Not many saw her in her lucid moments, probably because those moments were so few and far between. But she did have them, and most were spent in the company of her sister -- one of the few that understood the particular affliction she existed under.
She had never loved her husband, and perhaps it had been that, which had brought Rudolphus to cast the spell that had stripped her of her sanity.
Sometimes she was able to fight of his magic, particularly after a gruesome battle or torture session at the hands of their "Lord". Not the best of times to come into awareness, to be sure. And that was why Narcissa attended those functions. That was the reason why Narcissa had joined in Voldemort's mad crusade. Not from any loyalty to the man himself, or even to his cause, but from loyalty to her sister. Bella needed her.
But now came the true problem, the root of her worries. Not that she suddenly had another son, for she would never begrudge either boy her love. Draco she had raised from an infant, and Harry she had given birth to. She had given this much thought, through the long hours of the night while Lucius had locked himself in his study. She could understand why Lily Potter had done what she had, in that last desperate hope to save her son's life. She did not like it, did not appreciate it, but she could understand it. She would have done the same, had she been given the chance to save her child's life when it seemed so clear he would perish.
But the true worry, was the protection of her son. Of Draco. For he now bore the mark of Voldemort's enemy, now bore the look of a child who had fought him, time and again. A child who was responsible for the half life he had lived this last decade. And as much as she loved her sister ... her children came first. In a choice between Bella and Draco, Draco would be the one to earn her protection, her love. Her sacrifice.
Narcissa prayed she would never have to make that choice.
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Draco stared sightlessly up at the ceiling of his room, sprawled out across his expansive bed. He had been in this position for what seemed like an eternity, but with his attention span, had probably only been a couple of minutes.
He got that from his father, didn't he? His real father, his biological father. The father he now looked so much like. And Potter looked like Lucius Malfoy, he was sure. He hadn't gotten even a glimpse of the other boy yet, but it was safe to say that they had, essentially, "switched". Appearances, at least. He didn't feel any different mentally, but then he probably wouldn't. If he changed, if he truly became like Potter, he wouldn't even notice, thinking that he was acting as he should. As he was supposed to.
Should he be acting like Potter? He didn't want to, but that was who he would be, from this point on, to the rest of the world. Within these walls he could pretend he was somebody else, but in truth … he was Harry Potter now. And Draco Malfoy was most likely sleeping just down the hall from him.
He was frightened. He was a bit ashamed to admit that, for his father had always frowned on him seeking his mother out for comfort when was smaller, although his mother had always laughed and said that such fears were normal. His father's opinion meant too much to him, however, and so he had learned to bury his childish fears, moving through life with the constant worry that Lucius would somehow find out that those fears were still there, simply buried and masked over.
This fear was different, though. It wasn't that he worried for his physical safety, for his mother and father would never let anything happen to him -- of that he was still quite sure.
Now he feared for his very identity, being stripped away with every passing second. He was losing his self.
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His head was spinning.
Harry sat up in bed, holding a shaking hand to the side of his head as he supported his weight on his other hand, blinking rapidly to clear his vision.
He wasn't quite sure when he had fallen asleep, only that Lucius Malfoy hadn't been gone very long. But it had been a long night, and all he had wanted to do was stop thinking. About everything.
The letter was a fake. It had to be. There was no other explanation, at least not one that made any sort of sense. His parents were his parents, and the Malfoy's were followers of Lord Voldemort, it was as simply as that.
Even if there were other ways to capture him, other ways to torture him, either physically or mentally.
Rubbing the heels of both his hands over his eyes, Harry straightened his position so he was sitting upright, although he was quick to lower his hands, not trusting that he was at all safe in this house.
Throwing his legs over the side of the bed, he watched with some trepidation as the door to "his" room opened, revealing Lucius Malfoy yet again.
The man seemed to have no life. There was no other explanation for the inordinate amount of time he was able to spend here, in this tiny room. Did he even work?
Taking a deep, calming breath, Harry focused once again on the platinum blonde, watching as he took up a stance to the left of the door, which he had left open.
"I have extended the wards that keep you here. You are free to roam through the manor, so long as you do not leave or attempt to step outside the wards. Should you approach the wards, you will immediately be notified by a house elf." Lucius paused, watching his biological son as Harry gave a small start, obviously surprised by this turn of events.
"I do not want you to feel as a prisoner here. You are my son." Lucius put emphasis on that last word, giving the young man an intense look before turning toward the door once again. "I'm sure you are hungry. Please, head down to the dining room when you feel up to it. The house elves have left a light breakfast for you."
Harry watched other older man leave, having said nothing during this entire confrontation. It had been anticlimactic, this conversation. He had been expecting something a bit more grand, for his next conversation with the elder Malfoy. Maybe some threats if he didn't cooperate, at the very least an explanation of what would be required of him, as a supposed Malfoy. Certainly not this sudden freedom to roam through out the … wherever he was.
Rubbing a hand across his forehead, Harry rose to his feet, steadying himself on the bed as he did so. Now that he thought about it, he knew this feeling, these symptoms. He needed to eat something, and quickly. He felt like he had when Uncle Vernon would deprive him of food for over a week, forcing him to work diligently and then finding some excuse to lock him in his room immediately after his chores had been completed.
Keeping a hand on something solid, Harry slowly made his way out of the room, glancing warily both ways down the hallway before starting toward the staircase. Hopefully, the dining room was downstairs, and not one of the many doorways he could see lining the hallway.
Lucius Malfoy watched his son from the doorway of his own bedroom, Narcissa knitting quietly behind him. It was more of a soothing tactic for than something she actually needed to do, unlike Molly Weasley. He had seen the number of hand-made sweaters those children wore, and knew for a fact that without that particular ability of hers, those same children would have gone without winter clothes many years.
But it was calming for Narcissa, the repetitive motion and the click-click of the knitting needles as she went about her work. And, usually, it was calming for him as well -- he could spend nearly an hour just watching her knit, pretending to be reading one important document or another from the Ministry of Magic.
But now he had more important things to think about, rather than the soothing sound of her needles as she worked busily away at one project or another. Probably another pillow, or perhaps that dress she had been planning on donating to the local village come Christmas.
His son -- his biological son -- could barely stand. He could tell the source from here, although even if he were closer, Lucius doubted that he would be able to tell any better what the source of his weakness was. But as it now stood, Harry could barely walk down the hall, leaning heavily against the wall as he felt his way along, his steps slow and deliberate, as if he would fall at any moment.
But what could he do? Harry would fight him as if his life depended upon it if approached, certain that he was being attacked. And after everything he had done to the boy, he really couldn't blame him.
Sighing softly, Lucius turned back into the room, to find his wife staring at him as her knitting needles clicked away, her fingers working even if she wasn't looking at her work.
"Is he injured?" Her voice was soft when she spoke, no emotion showing on her pale face.
"He is having difficulty standing upright of his own volition." Lucius admitted softly, racking a hand through his normally immaculate blonde hair. Now, it fell over his shoulders any way it pleased, a few snarls catching in his fingers until, with a small huff of annoyance, he reached in dresser that stood against the wall and pulled out a hair tie, pulling his long tresses into a loose bun at the nape of his neck.
Narcissa gave a small burst of laughter, smiling when he turned toward her. "I think I will join him in the Dining Room." She said softly, setting her knitting aside, carefully arranging it so that she would not lose any of her stitches. He knew how much it annoyed her when she would have to re-stitch a row, or even a section of one.
Lucius watched her go, closing their bedroom door gently behind her, before giving another sigh and collapsing on to their four-poster bed, staring at the ceiling above.
He just didn't know what to do anymore. And that scared him more than anything else.
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Harry glanced up from the bowl of fruit in front of him as Narcissa Malfoy walked in to the room, taking a seat across from him on the small table.
He had noticed a larger dining hall on his way here, but had found no food when he had glanced in, not having the strength nor the inclination for a more thorough look. A few paces down, however, he had found this room, set up with three chairs around a small table piled high with fruit and assorted juices.
"How are you feeling this morning?" Narcissa glanced up from the pear she was slicing with a small knife, before glancing back down to her work with no particular expression.
Harry shifted in his chair, playing idly with the slice of cantaloupe in his own plate, before pursing his lips. "Fine, ma'am."
He hadn't really considered this option. Hadn't thought about her until just now.
Narcissa Malfoy. Mother of Draco Malfoy. Wife of Lucius Malfoy. He had never really known her, only having met her just that once. And even then, it had only been for a moment.
He hated Draco. He despised Lucius. But Narcissa Malfoy? He didn't really have any feelings toward her, except perhaps a certain wariness, because of her connection to the other two.
Narcissa nodded, now reaching for a plum and beginning the process of slicing that into tiny pieces, as well. "Did they feed you well? Were you content there?"
Harry started at that, too surprised by her question to keep up his defenses as he had been. "I … guess. I mean, I wasn't at the house usually, because of school."
"And before Hogwarts? Before you left for school?"
He didn't want to talk about before Hogwarts. About his cupboard. And so he simply shrugged, somewhat surprised when she accepted that, no pushing the subject any further.
"Lucius will be speaking to them, of course, explaining the situation. Since you are not truly family, nor their responsibility, I'm sure they will understand our need to bring you home."
Harry simply focused on his own meal, wondering idly if she would stop talking were he to ignore her. Or was she the type who liked the sound of her own voice?
With a snap of her fingers, a small house elf appeared at her side, and Narcissa conversed softly with it for a moment, before it disappeared with a pop and a small bowl appeared in front of her, to which she added the tiny pieces of fruit she had created. The leftovers from her slicing disappeared as well, and a small silver spoon appeared in it's place.
Picking up the bowl and spoon, Narcissa moved around the table, removing Harry's barely touched plate of random pieces of fruit and placing the bowl and spoon down in front of him.
"You need to eat. We noticed, Harry." With that, she returned to her seat, his previous plate disappearing with a small pop. Narcissa had set to cutting up pieces of fruit once again, and they sat like that in silence for a moment, before Narcissa made a pointed look at the bowl of what he could now see was a cereal of some sort, meeting his eyes with a raised eyebrow.
Narcissa watched as he ate, head bowed over his meal. His eyes were downcast, staring down at his meal as he ate, and she was forced to stare at the top of his head, noticing out of the corner of her eye how his leg bounced constantly against the floor, a nervous tick that her cousin Sirius had once had when he was at odds with his parents.
Which was most of the time.
Smiling sadly, Narcissa picked idly at her own plate of fruit, cut into larger pieces so that she could eat it with a little bit of cream. Her favorite breakfast, ever since she was a small child, when she would share it with her own mother.
They ate in silence, Harry glancing up every once in a while, but otherwise keeping his eyes trained on his meal.
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Lucius slowly wound his way down the hallway, glancing once down the hall to Draco's room, before heaving a small sigh and descending the stairs slowly.
Draco could wait. His main concern, however, was Harry. Narcissa had left to talk to him nearly an hour ago, and he could only assume that they were still eating. The alarms hadn't gone off -- yet.
The family dining hall was empty when he approached it, however, neither his wife nor Harry anywhere to be seen. A quick call for a house elf let him know that Narcissa was in the library, however, with Harry close by.
Perhaps she could form a bond with the boy, where he had thus far been unsuccessful. It had only been a day, and yet … it felt as if a lifetime had gone by in that one night. It was an odd sensation, to be so impatient. Normally he was so in control of the situation, willing to wait to see the end result. Now, all he wanted was for his life to return to the normalcy he had once enjoyed.
No more Voldemort, no more Dumbledore. No war, no sides to choose. Just him, and his family. He wished, suddenly and fervently, that he had never even heard of Lord Voldemort, had never met James and Lily Potter. No matter that they had never wished harm on him and his family -- they had cut deep with their actions, even if those actions had been an attempt to save their own child. Their only child. And he would have done the same for his child, in a heartbeat.
But dreaming had never gotten him anywhere, and no matter how fervently he wished for a normalcy he had never, in truth, possessed, he would never achieve it. Better to live in the present, then in dreams.
Slowly pushing the door to the library open, Lucius paused as he took in the sight of his wife reclining elegantly in a plush armchair, what appeared to be a novel held loosely in her hands. She appeared to be reading, but her eyes were not moving from one spot -- a spot that had nothing to do with the books in her hands. She was watching their son, their biological son, as he sat a short distance from her, a larger tome in his hands.
Harry was curled up in a similar chair, legs tucked underneath him as his eyes scanned through a large book he had found just a few minutes ago on the shelf. Unlike Narcissa, he had not chosen a novel, but rather a tome on the creation of spells, on the process that one went through to tap into the very heart of magic in order to create an entirely new spell. It was long and drawn out, and dangerous, so the book said. But he found it fascinating.
And here he had thought that all the spells he had learned through the years had been in place for centuries. Why, some of them could be only a few years old -- perhaps even months! The book gave no specific examples, but he was sure that it was field of much interest to the teachers and staff of his school. Well, perhaps not to Filch, but anybody else, surely. Anybody with any magical power of their own.
Shifting slightly in his seat, he never even noticed as Lucius entered into the room, coming to stand next to Narcissa and bending down to speak quietly in her ear.
"How has he been?" Narcissa glanced up at the question, smiling gently at the worried look on her husband's drawn face.
"Quiet, and a bit preoccupied. But he is polite to a fault. We shall have to teach him the proper wizarding customs, of course, as well as how to behave as a Malfoy. But he is already very polite, and soft spoken. A bit withdrawn, but considering his past history with us, who can really blame him?"
Lucius blushed hotly at that, although he knew she had not meant it as a reprimand, but had merely been speaking a fact. The fact was, though, that he had a lot to apologize for. And he had never been a man to apologize.
Harry shifted slightly in his chair, covering his mouth with the palm of his hand as he yawned, eyes tightly closed, before he returned his attention to the book in front of him.
Lucius frowned, noticing for the first time what that tome particular tome was about. Lips thinning into a tightly pursed straight line, Lucius rose from his crouch next to Narcissa's chair, coming to stand next to Harry.
Harry finally noticed the presence of the older man, hands tightening around the edges of his book as he glanced warily up at the blonde haired giant towering over him. He did have an intimidating presence, no matter how much Harry wished he wasn't intimidated by him. He was. The man was overpowering, standing there and staring down at him with that scowl in place.
"Perhaps something more suitable?" Lucius asked, raising one finely sculpted eyebrow as he glanced down toward the book meaningfully. Harry followed his gaze, frowning at the book. More suitable?
Lucius gave a small sigh, plucking the book from Harry's now lax fingers and placing it back on the shelf before moving to another section of a different bookshelf, fingers trailing along the spines of the many books there, before he pulled out a large, hardcover book and passed it to the still seated Harry. "Don't worry about school for now … just relax." Lucius smiled down at the blonde-haired boy, silently marveling at just how much he had come to look like Draco so quickly.
Of course, there were differences, even where the transformation had already taken place. He was thinner than Draco, his hair cut differently, his face more gaunt, his eyes more shadowed. And he was more expressive with those eyes, his emotions playing clearly across those grey depths.
The transformation was nearly complete. The eyes were there, as was the hair, and they had never been very far from each other in height. It was the skin that still threw him off, how dark it was in comparison to both he and his wife. It would lighten soon, he was sure, perhaps even before they retired for the night. And then the transformation would be complete.
"I think I shall go check on Draco. Excuse me, gentlemen." Lucius nodded to his wife, Harry's attention averted, for the moment, from the book Lucius still held out to him as he watched the woman go, until the doors had closed behind her, cutting her off from view.
Leaving him alone with Lucius Malfoy.
Harry tentatively took the book from the older man's grip, flipping it over so he could see the cover. The Sirmillion, by JRR Tolkien.
"A muggle book?" Harry asked, raising one eyebrow in surprise, a slight quirk coming to his lips. Almost a smile, but not quite.
"Yes, well, they have to be good at something, do they not?" Lucius returned, smiling as he picked out a book for himself, before claiming the seat his wife had just vacated.
As he glanced back at Harry, however -- his son -- he found that the blonde haired youth was glaring at him, lips slightly parted and teeth clenched tightly together. "Don't clench your teeth." He said mildly, opening the small book and focusing on getting through the first chapter.
Harry blinked in surprise, too bewildered by that statement to really make any sort of response. Don't clench your teeth? That sounded like something Molly Weasley would say, and certainly wasn't anything he had expected to hear Lucius Malfoy say .. Well .. Ever.
Leaning back in his chair, Harry slowly opened the book in his hands, trying to focus on the words before him.
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Draco slowly sat up in bed, yawning as he rubbed wearily at his eyes with a clenched fist. His vision was blurry even after that, though, and he softly cursed as he glared at the wall across from his bed, too angry to focus that anger on one particular person or object.
Potter needed glasses. He had, technically, become Potter, for all intents and purposes. Therefore, he needed glasses. Surely there was a spell that could fix this? Some sort of potion he could take, to fix his eyesight? He simply refused to walk around in those hideous glasses of Potter's. Having the scar was bad enough.
Speaking of his scar … it was pounded. Rubbing wearily at the lightening bolt mark on his forehead, Draco heaved a small sigh, swinging his legs out of the bed as he held the blanket away from him. He let it drop back onto the bed behind him, as he stood and made his way toward the bathroom.
He had just barely stepped from the bathroom when a soft knock came on the door, and he swiftly wrapped his black and green bathrobe around himself, before opening the heavy wooden door to reveal his mother.
Narcissa smiled gently at the sight of his wet hair and still-sleepy eyes -- it always had taken Draco longer to wake than either she or her husband. At least now they knew why.
Draco stepped aside, running a hand through his now midnight black hair, a slight blush staining his cheeks. "I …"
"Go and get dressed, Draco. And then you can join me in the library."
Draco nodded, disappearing into his walk in closet. It was times like these when he was thankful for that closet, as he could simply get dressed inside of his closet, rather than rush through the room with an armful of clothes simply to change in the bathroom. Because he was certainly not changing in front of his mother -- especially not now. Now that even he didn't know the specifics of his own body.
When he reappeared a couple minutes later, Narcissa was sitting calmly on his neatly made bed, smiling slightly as she watched him walk toward her. She held out her hand, and he gingerly sat on the bed beside her, head bowed as he stared down at the carpet beneath their feet.
"Harry and your father are in the library already." Narcissa commented softly, combing her fingers through his unruly black hair. As Draco's head jerked up, however, she let her hand fall gracefully down to his shoulder, raising one eyebrow and continuing to smile.
"He seems upset, but it's really to be expected. I'm sure your father was none too gentle pulling him from his … former home." Now, Narcissa was never one to stumble over words, but she now found herself nearly unable to form the correct words, unsure what to call the people who had raised her biological son.
Draco shrugged his shoulders, dropping his eyes to once again stare at the carpet. He really wasn't sure what to say to something like that -- to any of this. And so he said nothing.
Narcissa gave a small sigh, lips pressed tightly together before she stood to her feet, one hand resting on the back of Draco's head. She said nothing more, merely steered her son toward the door.
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Harry glanced up from his book, watching as Lucius Malfoy stood to his feet, head turned down and to the side as he covered his mouth with his hand, a large yawn forcing it's way out.
The man had been quiet up until now, seemingly content to read as Harry did the same. And after a while, he had been able to do the same, although the book was far less interesting than the one he had held before.
Professor Dumbledore wouldn't have taken such a book from him -- on the contrary, he would have been disappointed to see Harry with anything but such a book. He needed to be prepared for what was to come, not live in a fantasy land of comfort and quiet.
Not that anybody would be hunting him now. On the contrary, Death Eaters would probably be polite to him, thinking him to be the son of Lucius Malfoy. He certainly looked the part, with his platinum blonde hair and grey eyes.
Not that he believed for even one second what the elder Malfoy had claimed. He was Harry Potter, always had been and always would be. There was no stopping that, no changing it, not would he ever want to. True, his life sucked, and at times he wished he could be "normal" -- at least to an extent. Not that extent that his cousin or aunt or uncle lived, for that, too, was hiding in a way. But normal in the way that some of his classmates were -- Seamus and Dean, Luna and Neville. They lived good lives, had family to protect them from the horrors of the world, and sometimes he wished he had that too.
But now was not the time to get lost in thought, as Lucius Malfoy finally trained that steely gaze back on him. Was this where reality would kick in, then? Where the truth would finally be seen for what it was, and where the elder Malfoy would give in to his baser instincts and torture him for information he was quite sure he could not give, even if he wanted to?
Lucius sighed softly at the look on his biological son's face, lips pursed tightly together as he turned away from the young man, moving over to one of the bookshelf's quite aware that Harry's eyes followed him the entire way.
"I'm sure Draco--"
Lucius paused, frowning as he turned to look at the door as Narcissa glided her way in, Draco trailing a few steps behind her.
This was the first time that Harry had seen the other boy, and it gave him a start, to look at somebody who seemed to wear his body, though the movements were all wrong.
Their eyes met, and Harry shifted uncomfortably at the intense way those green eyes locked with his. He could suddenly understand what Ginny had meant, when she had claimed his eyes could be unnerving at times. He had simply laughed then, but now he understood, as their full force was turned on him.
Draco, for his part, seemed just as shaken, breaking eye contact almost immediately and glancing over at his mother, who had moved away from toward his father -- toward Lucius. He still wasn't sure what to call them, and seemed unable to think of them by their names proper. And so they remained Mother and Father, at least within the confines of his own mind.
Kissing her husband softly on the cheek, Narcissa moved over to the small pull that hung beside one of the book cases, giving it a small tug. A small house elf -- one that Harry had not seen before -- appeared with a small pop,
Harry shifted uncomfortably in his seat, watching as the Slytherin boy moved over to stand next to his mother, seemingly just as unsure as he was about this whole situation.
Could Lucius Malfoy have been telling the truth? It seemed rather too much, that he would go so far as to physically alter his own son -- and not tell that son just what was happening. For there was no way the other boy was this good of an actor … they had known each other long enough for Harry to be able to surmise that much, at least.
Draco watched as his mother instructed the small house-elf to begin working on Potter's room, just down the hall from his own. They had been able to retrieve Potter's things from his relative's house -- although they were not technically his relative's, where they? They were his, Draco's, relatives. By blood, at least.
Turning back toward Potter -- it seemed wrong, now, to think of him by that surname, but what was he to do? Even the name Harry felt wrong on his tongue, and the name Potter, at least, was familiar to him. Even if he was thinking it in conjunction with somebody who now bore his former likeness. Former, for he was now dark haired and green eyed, skin far darker than he would have preferred.
He would have preferred that none of this had ever happened.
But Potter was still watching him, grey eyes narrowed slightly, and Draco could suddenly appreciate how Blaise had once told him that his eyes were very cold. The other boy had even shivered dramatically after saying it, and he had simply laughed it off, thinking Blaise to be teasing him. Now he knew better. It really was … quite unnerving.
And here he was, with his pretty, girlish green eyes. Wonderful.
Moving deeper into the library, Draco hid himself among the books, leaning his forehead against the cool wood, letting loose a small breath as he squeezed his eyes tightly shut.
He just wanted to wake up. To wake up, and find that this had all been a terrible dream.
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Harry watched the other boy disappear deeper in to the room, a small tug of jealousy forcing his lips to curl up slightly at he edges. He had a feeling, though, that such an attempt on his part would have Lucius following immediately, lest he attempt to escape.
Funny, he had never had to worry about somebody watching his actions like this before. He had always been able to escape, to be on his own when he needed to. Now, he was trapped within the sight of this man -- a man he by no means trusted.
Harry started as a weight settled itself on the arm of his chair, glancing up to see Narcissa Malfoy perched beside him, staring at the book in his hands with a small smile. "Did Lucius pick that out for you?" She met his eyes as she smoke, that small smile still playing across her lips.
Harry nodded, uncertain what else to do as she glanced over to her husband. "He doesn't have much imagination, that one. Always the same books." She glanced back down at him, leaning forward to give his forehead a small peck, before moving off and away, following ?Draco's earlier footsteps.
So, he wasn't the only one being kept on a tight leash, at least.
Lucius cleared his throat, re-taking his seat as he attempted a smile at his biological son. "You are free to pick out another book, you know. Neither Narcissa nor Draco enjoy it in the slightest, but it is one of my favorites." And he had hoped that he could share this, at least, with his biological son. Something to tie them together, other than their physical appearances.
Harry shrugged his shoulders, leaning down further into the chair and re-opening the book. "It's interesting." He said softly, trying to look for all the world like he was engrossed in it's pages.
And failing miserably. Lucius knew an attempt at stopping a conversation when he saw one -- especially so obvious of one.
Smiling slightly, he returned his attention to his own book, glancing up every couple of minutes to check on his young companion.
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Narcissa found him easily enough, as Draco had known she would. He hadn't been exactly hiding -- not that that would have been a problem for her. All she would have to do, would be to call a House Elf to locate him.
Sighing softly, Draco glanced up from the book he had picked up, watching as she stopped beside him, placing her hand on the back of his head. "You're going to be spending a lot of time together, you know. You could at least try."
Draco glanced away from her, staring sightlessly down at the open book in his hands. "We have never liked each other. You know that." Draco glanced up now, meeting her eyes with his best imitation of puppy-dog eyes. "He's in Gryffindor!"
"That is no excuse, Draconis. He is your brother." Narcissa frowned down at her son, eyes narrowed slightly in disapproval.
Draco glanced up sharply at that, eyes slightly wide as he took in what she had just said. Noticing this, Naricissa sighed softly, gently rubbing at the back of his scalp. "I am very lucky you know, Draconis. I have two sons, two good boys." She laughed softly now, smiling her first true smile of the day. "Complete opposites, to be sure, but good boys. They just need to learn that about each other." Narcissa laughed softly now, leaning down to kiss the crown of his head softly, rubbing the back of his head for a second before moving back toward her husband and other child.
She had finally made public her decision of the other night, had finally let one she loved know her feelings on the matter. And she didn't regret it.
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Harry watched as Narcissa made her way back toward them, Draco nowhere to be seen. She stopped next to his chair to run her fingers shortly through his hair, but she didn't kiss him again this time, and he felt oddly … disappointed.
Shying away from her touch, shifted slightly in the chair, trying to find his place once again on the page he had been reading. He found it harder to read now, with both of them paying so much attention to him. He could feel Lucius' eyes on him as well, drilling a hole in his head, bowed over his book. He didn't glance up, however.
Lucius opened his mouth to say something -- only to be cut off by the sound of the door opening. He glanced up sharply, only to narrow his eyes in anger as Severus Snape stepped inside, one hand still on the door knob and the other braced against the doorframe.
"Lucius -- we have a problem."
"Unless you are here on official business for our Lord, Severus, you will leave now." Why hadn't he blocked the other man from their floo network yet? It was unlike him, to forget such an important thing.
"They have discovered Potter to be missing, Lucius. The Order is launching a search party as we speak, with Moody at it's front. Dumbledore is pulling out all the stop -- he even informed the Ministry. The entire Wizarding World is on alert." Severus turned his eyes to the blonde haired boy in the chair across from Lucius, unable to hide the surprise that showed on his face. The transformation was … quick, to be sure.
"They will not stop until they find him, Lucius. And there are … others searching for him, as well. Our Lord, for one. I would not wish Draco to be found by either one."
Lucius swore softly under his breath, earning him a disapproving look from his wife and a slight jump from Harry. Glancing back, he saw that Draco had come out from behind the man bookcases that lined the room to stand just behind them, twisting his fingers together and watching them with wide eyes.
"Draco, come here." He murmured softly, holding out a hand to the boy. Draco slowly came forward, allowing his father to wrap an arm around his waist. Lucius gave a small sigh, moving his eyes to once again rest on Severus, who seemed … decidedly uncomfortable now that his message had been relayed.
Before he could speak, however, Severus spoke up instead.
"I'm sorry for disturbing you, I just wanted to make sure you knew the full circumstances." He turned to go, pausing in the doorway as Lucius spoke.
"Thank you, Severus." He glanced back caught slightly off guard by the genuine smile he saw on his childhood friend's face. He returned it weakly, before vanishing out the door and closing it behind himself.
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And, alas, that is the stopping point for today. Hope y'all enjoyed, and, of course, don't forget to review. Very important! I need to know how I'm doing J