A/N: This chapter finished itself! Yay! I love it when that happens.

Thank you Sincerity and faith, Lothirielwen (It is a bit unusual, isn't it?), AniD (Leave an email address with your next review, please?), Avain (Lol. Harry's not quite as graceful in dealing with them as he is in dealing with Lucius, is he? I think you're right, he is in a bit of a shock. ), Arigazi (Sorry. I'm going to work on editing that chapter so it's a bit more clear. James, also known as Baby, kissed Harry.), Rock and Sarcasm, vote-larry4prez (fight? as if Lucius has competition...), Purple Raveness, FairyPoet (Yeah, that's the general gist. Baby...gets around.), angelkitty77, Crystal, and xikum (You ask such good questions. Keep asking good questions. You make me think about my story. )

"He doesn't dislike you because of James," Lucius says once they have returned to his study.

"I really don't care why he dislikes me," Harry replies. He knows he is bad at faking indifference. At the moment, he doesn't care. Lucius raises an eyebrow.

"Really? That's unusual; normally one wants to get along with someone one is going to have to see every day," he says, removing his travelling cloak.

"I don't expect you to understand," Harry replies, crossing his arms.

"Try me," Lucius says, taking his customary chair by the fire.

"His name is Lestrange." A dark look passes over Lucius' face. When it clears, Lucius looks as if he has aged ten years.

"Let me guess. His parents killed someone you loved?" Harry nods tersely, willing himself not to think of Sirius, not to think of what he did to Bellatrix when he and Draco finally cornered her. Lucius sighs. " I probably helped them, yet you and I get along just fine." Harry stares at him blankly.

"I'm sorry. Was that an attempt to make me feel better? Because if it was, it was miserable. I expect better from you," he says coldly. However, his tone is no mach for the icy glare that Lucius gives him.

"If you want to start holding grudges against people for what happened during the war, why don't you start with me? I have a hell of a lot more sins than Michael does." Harry doesn't doubt it. He knows Lucius' record, too.

"That doesn't make him innocent," Harry says stubbornly. Lucius' smile is devoid of warmth and any sort of happiness.

"The only innocent one in that room tonight was Sebastian," he says. If Harry were quicker, he'd be all over that comment. But Harry is not quicker and he has never won any awards for brilliance, just grit and a bravery that Draco always condemned as "brainless recklessness."

"What on earth does he need a chaperone for with the illustrious company he keeps: two Death Eaters, a war hero, a spy, and the best field surgeon in Scotland. Heaven help the thing that should come after your nephew! What? Is the idea that Sebastian should marry the wrong sort of girl so repulsive to you that he needs a bodyguard worthy of the fucking Minister of Magic?" Harry knew by the glittering of Lucius' eyes that he stepped way over the line. He was so far over the line that it was a miracle that he was still in one piece and if he kept performing miracles like this, he was going to be cannonized and then Draco's taunt of "Saint Harry of Potter" would be a fact.

"My, my, Mr. Scryer, but you do know your war trivia. Not many people can recognize those boys once they've put their frock coats on, but you can. I wonder if you haven't met them before?" Lucius' tone is light but his implication is serious. Harry bites his lip, silently damning himself for his inability to keep his mouth shut.

"What about Sebastian?" he says, changing topics. It is perhaps the first wise thing he has done all evening.

"Sebastian is an empath," Lucius says. Harry starts.

"I'm sorry. I thought you said your nephew was an empath," he says.

"I did. Apparently you know something about how rare they are."

"They're about as rare as true seers, but that's all I know about them," Harry says, shaking his head.

"Empaths can sense emotions in those around them. Sebastian is a strong empath. He can sense emotions left behind on objects, in places. His sense of empathy is most acute when channeled through a physical medium."

Harry thinks on this.

"That explains the gloves," he says at last. Lucius smiles.

"Yes, it does. "

"It explains his singing too," Harry adds, not bothering to hide the admiration in his voice.

"Yes, that is the only time he takes full advantage of his gifts."

"Why?"

"He is afraid, I think. Sebastian has always been coddled and protected. He had the kind of childhood we would all have liked to provide for our children." Lucius fell silent. Harry knew that he was thinking of Draco. He can always tell bcause that is when he starts to think about him as well. Slowly, it was starting to occur to him that perhaps Lucius was every bit as proud of Draco as Draco had been of Lucius. The thought pleases him. It is proper that Lucius would be proud of Draco. Harry has been for years. He is rather tired of feeling like the only one. The silence between them is a comforting one and it eases the tension remaining between them. Lucius sighs and continues. "While Sebastian has not experienced many of the horrors of the war, his friends have. They have killed and they have watched others be killed."

"And if he uses his gifts to their full extent, he'll bear witness to it and he doesn't know if he could handle their grief?" Harry asks, but even as he says it, he knows that is not right. He frowns as he tries to think of a way to word the situation better-- to make it fit. Lucius frowns as well.

"Not exactly. It's something I think you will come to understand as you know Sebastian more," he says at last. Harry nods.

"Do you really approve of this?" Harry asks after a moment of silence. He has to admit that from all the Lucius horror stories he had heard in school that he never would have guessed that Lucius would support a venture so wildly out of step with the Pureblood Old Guard.

"What precisely is this?" Lucius asks, tiredly.

"Azkaban, Sebastian cross-dressing."

"Everyone has their own path, Mr. Scryer," the older man sighs.

"But Dr-" Harry stopped himself abruptly, slapping his hand over his mouth so fast, it hurt. He winces.

"Yes?"

"Your son—" Harry says, regretting that he has to bring up this topic. Then again tact and thoughtfulness seem to be beyond him this evening, but if Harry is completely honest, tact and thoughtfulness always were beyond him. Lucius' expression is unchanging.

"My son chose his path. He followed his conscience and I am very proud of him for that. He did what I couldn't."

"You didn't believe in Voldemort's cause?" Harry asks, amazed that anything Lucius could say or do could still shock him.

"The cause I believed in was betrayed by a psycho. I don't believe in death. I don't believe in immortality. I believe in heritage."

"Heritage?" Harry echoes. There is a bitter edge to Lucius' voice that is unfamiliar. He doesn't like it anymore than he likes seeing the blond man wallowing in sadness. It is new. Harry has already had enough of newness for one night.

"Yes, our history, our laws, our traditions—the things they don't teach in school anymore because they feel that Muggleborns would be at a disadvantage."

Harry didn't understand. He didn't understand anything that both Malfoys had kept telling him about heritage and "our kind." He wasn't interested in the rules that bound the wizarding society together. He was just the handyman. People called upon him to fix Voldemort's messes as if that were all he was all fit for, all he was meant to do.

"Potter, I think my father likes you," Draco said with what Harry had come to call "restrained amusement."

"What are you on about, Malfoy? Your father looks at me as if I'm a bug to be squashed," Harry replied with less restrained amusement.

"Enemy to be reckoned with," corrected the other boy.

"But still to be squashed," Harry observed.

"But not at dinner."

"Is that the famous Malfoy hospitality that I've heard absolutely nothing about?" Harry replied dryly. Draco chuckled.

"You know, Potter, I think you're developing a sense of wit," he said with cool approval.

"A mistake, I assure you. It's probably you and your father rubbing off on me. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to take a bath. If I don't get to the Malfoy right away, it'll stain and I'll have to abandon all hope of ever being decent person."

Draco snorted. "You'll never be a decent person, Potter." Harry stopped short, turning to stare in undisguised shock. "You're too much like me. We're just powerful tools. We don't know anything about being people. We were never raised to be people." Harry bit his lip, wondering when Draco had the time to develop a talent for revealing Harry's unvoiced fears in between fighting a war and fixing his usually perfect hair.

"Wow, Malfoy. Have you even heard of optimism?" he asked. Draco laughed unkindly.

"You mean lying to yourself to dilute reality when you're not strong enough for the truth?"

"Apparently not," Harry said, more to himself than to Draco.

"I don't do optimism. I deal with realities, the kind no one likes to see."

"No wonder you're always the life of the party." Draco smiled at him in a way that seemed to say that he was truly sorry for Harry's fate, because after all, his was the same. Pity? From Draco Malfoy, who did pity as well as he did optimism? Harry couldn't stand that. He left.

Sometimes Harry wonders if maybe they were right, if Draco was right. For all intents and purposes, Harry is inept at day to day living. He is so used to living under a death sentence that he doesn't know what to do without the specter of Danger looming over him.

"I don't understand," Harry says. " I was an orphan. No one bothered to teach me anything but what I needed to survive." Except Draco. It was true, but if it was true, why did it sound so miserable? How could one sentence make his entire life seem so bleak? It couldn't… not unless his life was already that bleak and he just took a spectacularly long time to notice.

"That's unfortunate." Lucius says. He says it without anything that Harry has come to recognize as sympathy, but Harry feels better. "Sebastian knows where he comes from. He knows where his obligations lie. He is free to do whatever he likes—it is his life after all. I will support him in anything that does not conflict with his obligations." Somehow that statement is so very Lucius Malfoy—both the old Lucius Malfoy that used to scare the piss out of Harry and the one with whom he has recently become acquainted. Harry chuckles.

"How strange. I always picked you for a conservative," Harry says with a glance at Lucius.

"Conservatism is often a euphemism for 'lazy thinking'," Lucius replies, pouring himself a drink. Harry grins, declining the glass Lucius offers him.

"I just figured you wanted to preserve the old way because it meant you came out on top."

"I'm always on top, Mr. Scryer. I don't need a political agenda to make sure of that, "Lucius replies, taking a sip of his drink. Harry resists the urge to chuckle. The last thing he wants to do is encourage Lucius. He rolls his eyes instead.

"You are so alpha male," he scoffs. Lucius raises an eyebrow.

"You say that like it bothers you."

"It does," Harry says, crossing his arms.

"You are such a horrible liar," Lucius says, his eyes glittering with cool amusement.

Unfortunately Harry has no reply for that.

Ok, so comments, criticism, and questions are all welcome. Be a dear and review!

Love,

J. Silver