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CHAPTER 16

I had no idea what I would say to Harry. I knew I needed to apologise for my less than polite behaviour towards him, but I was at a complete loss where to start. My memories of James Potter were unpleasant ones I was sure Harry wouldn't want to hear. His words and actions had left a deep scar within me and having to relay those words and actions to the son he'd never really known filled me with a heavy dread.

I had put up walls and judged Harry by what I knew, becoming the person I swore I never would — my father. The man was an egotistical bigot, never hiding the fact he disliked anyone he thought beneath him. Money and status were the only things he cared for, and had my grandmother not stepped in, I would have been the same.

Looking back, I always found myself horrified by his actions. His attitude to anyone who didn't hold wealth in the same regard as he did was treated with disdain and outright contempt. Money was his entire life, and increasing his wealth was his number one priority. And even at a young age, I never understood why. Money never brought him happiness — the more money he gained, the more miserable he seemed to become.

And his love of money was why I hated it.

Severus had come from a poor family, and his scholarship entry into our snobby boarding school had been just another reason for him to be targeted. But my resolve to protect him was cemented when my own father also looked down his nose at him, and I would share that fact with Harry.

Hermione's assurances that Harry would understand didn't help my confidence. I was disgusted at myself. If a grown man had treated my son as such, I would tear him limb from limb. But Harry didn't have the luxury of having a father to protect him. And despite her assurances, I was certain this impending conversation would be a complete disaster.

"I have to say, as much as I love this broody, sullen look, it's becoming rather tiresome," Hermione said as she wandered into the bathroom and stood beside me.

I glanced at her reflection in the mirror. "You were perfectly fine with broody and sullen last night."

"Yes, well, that was a whole different broody and sullen." She pressed her thumb against the frown between my eyes. "This isn't quite as charming."

"I know you keep telling me Harry will understand, but I'm not as certain. Would you want to know that the father you never knew had been a bully?"

"If it was the truth, then yes."

"I don't think you would," I disagreed. "No one wants to hear the bad things, especially when the person involved in those bad things has passed."

"Someone being dead or alive doesn't change how they acted. If James was a bully, Harry should know the truth about it. I'm sure his father's friend has only told him the good stuff, so it needs to be balanced out."

"Balanced out?" I asked, wondering if she was actually being serious.

"Yes. No one is perfect, and like I said, Harry has probably only heard the good stuff. He needs to hear the other side of his father's story."

I sighed and shook my head. I should have just dogged down my feelings and ignored the hurt and anger when I saw him. It wasn't his fault, and now I would be responsible for making Harry feel exactly the way I had.

"Hermione, I just can't see any outcome where Harry won't be upset about this. And I don't want to think about what that will mean for us."

She squeezed my bicep and smiled sweetly at me. "Is that what you're worried about? Us?"

"You said Harry has been your friend since you were eleven. You shouldn't have to give up your friendship with him if he hates me after all of this."

"You're so adorable," she said. "If Harry hates you, I don't care. I can be friends with him and still be with you. I told you I love you, and I meant it. Nothing Harry might say will change that."

"Hermione—"

"No, I'm not going to let you brood over this. Whatever happens, whatever Harry says, won't make a difference. I will sympathise with him if I need to, but I will also let him know nothing will stop me from being with you."

I bit back my response. Her face was set, her eyes determined, I knew there was no point in arguing with her. And I had to trust her since she actually knew Harry. But the unease I felt was like a premonition — something was bound to go wrong, and she would be forced into a situation that I had never meant for her to be in. I didn't want her to have to choose between us, and despite her claims, I was certain that's what it would come down to eventually.

"Are you almost ready?"

"Yes," I said on a slow exhale.

She wrapped her arms around me when I turned to face her. "Listen to me, Lucius. You're overthinking way too much. Everything will be fine. Harry will listen and ask questions and will understand. And this thing between us won't change. This is just a little bump that we'll all talk about and then get over."

I wasn't sure it would be quite so simple. I hated to be pushed into anything. I'd always needed time to figure out my thoughts and feelings before discussing anything. And the few days since dinner with her friends hadn't been enough time. She had changed me considerably already, but the whole situation was weighing heavily on me. While I knew I needed to talk to Harry about his father to enable a more fluid friendship, I wasn't sure her pushing the issue was going to make it any easier.

"Looks like you're making yourself at home here, Lucius." Pansy said, nodding towards the book on the coffee table with my glasses perched on top of it. "She doesn't let just anyone bring an unapproved book into her sanctuary."

I managed a smile, but the nerves still churning my stomach made it impossible for me to come back with a witty reply.

"You look like you're about to faint," she said, narrowing her eyes at me. "What's going on?"

"That's the million dollar question, isn't it?" Hermione drawled, rolling her eyes and shaking her head. "He's terrified of Harry."

Harry snorted. "Seriously?"

They stood staring at me, waiting for me to respond, but how did I even begin?

"This is ridiculous," Hermione said, handing Harry a tumbler of scotch. "He needs to tell you something, and he's not sure you'll like it."

She handed me a tumbler and I had to shove down my anger. I hadn't been sure how to tell him my story, but now Harry would have a guard up and possibly be even less inclined to believe me. I knew she was just trying to help, perhaps make things less awkward, but it wasn't how I operated.

"I'm not terrified of Harry," I snapped testily and snatched the offered drink from her hand. She recoiled at my sharp tone; we'd not been sharp with each other since our admittance of feelings in my kitchen, but even then it hadn't been nasty. But it was clear I'd struck a nerve.

She bit her lip and lowered her eyes in a similar manner she did whenever she shied away from praise.

But this wasn't praise.

"Is everything alright here?" Harry asked, watching Hermione and I closely.

She remained silent, not looking up, and a twinge of guilt twisted inside me. I hadn't meant to snap at her, but I was frustrated with the way she was forcing my hand.

"No, it might not be," I answered with a tight smile. "Probably best if we sit."

Pansy touched Hermione's arm and I had to wonder what I had missed — or simply didn't know. Harry sat in one armchair and I sat on the sofa, expecting Hermione to sit beside me. Instead, she sat in the other armchair leaving Pansy to take the place beside me. And my nerves ratcheted up another notch.

I not only had Harry's reaction to worry about, I now had unintentionally upset Hermione.

This was bound to be an eventful evening.

"What do you need to talk to me about, Lucius?" Harry asked. "This all looks very serious."

"It might be," I answered, glancing quickly at Hermione. Her face was blank, not allowing me to see what she was feeling. I took a sip of my drink and looked back at Harry. "It's possible that I knew your father. James Potter was an acquaintance in my school days."

"And I'm assuming — since you're nervous to tell me — you didn't get along?"

"No, we didn't. And my reaction to you at dinner the other night was uncalled for. I prejudged you based on what I knew of your father. But you look so much like him, my instinct to dislike you was automatic. I need to apologise for that."

"I can't blame you," Harry said with a smile. "My reaction might have been the same had I been in your position."

"It doesn't excuse my behaviour. And what I have to tell you… It isn't pleasant."

"Maybe you should just tell me then. Do it quickly and it won't seem so bad."

"And we promise we won't get mad," Pansy added.

"I was a few years older than him at school, and at first had very little to do with him and his friends." I leaned my elbows on my knees. "We were organised into four school houses, and there was a new boy who started the same year as your father. He was in my house, and your father a different one. This boy was highly intelligent, but quiet and reserved. And that made him an easy target."

"Easy target… oh crap!" Pansy's mouth drew into a cringe.

"Yes, oh crap indeed," I agreed and turned back to Harry, whose face was equally contorted. "Your father and his friends, Remus and Sirius and Peter, were…" I paused and took a breath. "They bullied him. Mercilessly."

I watched as Harry absorbed my words. He looked at me for the longest time, then began to nod slowly.

"I lived with my Aunt and Uncle until I was eleven and met Ron, then I refused to live with them anymore. Molly and Arthur — Ron's parents — took me in and I grew up happy and healthy there." He glanced at Pansy, who reached over and took his hand, holding it tightly. "My Aunt and Uncle were complete arseholes, if I'm being honest, but the only compliment my Aunt actually shared was that my father apparently grew up when I was born. Apparently I was a bit of a surprise, and he got rid of his school friends and became a responsible adult."

While it didn't change my opinion of him, I was glad to hear his father had changed his ways.

"Remus did find me a few years ago, and told me about my father. He said he — they — weren't angels and got up to some mischief. He just never said what kind of mischief, just made it sound like fun and games."

"And clearly it wasn't," Pansy said.

"I think Remus was trying to excuse their behaviour, or he simply didn't think it was as bad as it was. Or it is entirely possible that he has forgotten all about Severus." I sipped my drink and hated the thought of Remus so flippantly dismissing his teenage behaviour. "However, I can assure you, it certainly wasn't mischief."

"It sounds like you were a good friend though," Pansy squeezed my arm and gave me a sweet smile.

"My friends and I took Severus under our wings and gave him as much protection as we could. And I have a few scars from fist fights with your father because I stood up to them. I'm not comfortable saying it to you, but they were bullies. Of the worst kind. They had the faculty believing they were just mischievous scamps, but it was far from the truth."

"Honestly, Lucius, I'm not surprised. Remus isn't all that pleasant—"

"That's an understatement," Pansy muttered.

"—and I don't have much to do with him. The few times I've met with him it was like I was meeting with two different people. He tries to be pleasant and fun but his temper is quick and he doesn't seem to approve of my chosen profession. He's never mentioned anyone named Peter, but the other one, Sirius, he's in prison. I looked up his file and you'd be glad he's not on the streets. His mischievous ways didn't end after school."

"I honestly can't say I'm surprised, he was the worst of the four of them," I told him. "And I don't want to be glad about any of this. Your father and his friends weren't kind people — not in my experience — but I have never wished bad things for them. Especially what happened to your parents."

"And I appreciate that. And I also appreciate you telling me about your experiences with my father. I never knew him, or my mother, but everyone thinks I should only hear the good things. He's painted in this perfect light, like he was some kind of god, so it's refreshing to hear that he wasn't." He shrugged. "I mean, I'm not overjoyed at his behaviour, it was shitty and I'm sorry your friend had to go through all that."

"You don't have to apologise for your father, Harry. That's not why I told you this. His actions are not your fault, and nor do those actions in any way excuse my treatment of you. I should have set aside my feelings towards him and gotten to know you as you are." I rolled the glass between my palms. "My main reason for telling you this is simply because I didn't want it weighing on me and influencing my interactions with you or my relationship with Hermione."

I glanced over at her and she offered me a small smile. She could have easily been smug — her assurances had been correct — but her eyes didn't hold the same delight they always did. I wasn't sure if it was my sour attitude or my sharp tone, or both that had upset her, but it concerned me that either had. It was confusing that she had been pushing me since she'd arrived home to stop worrying, had fired back replies to my concerns, but had shut down immediately when I let my true frustration show.

"Well, I'm glad you talked to me," Harry said. "The truth is hard to hear, but I'm grateful that you could give me a different perspective. I hope your friend — Severus, was it?— was able to move on from it."

A split second debate raged inside my head; should I tell him or not? The latter won out. He'd heard enough bad news about his father — he didn't need to know how Severus had died.

"He passed a few years ago," I told him and Pansy reached across and squeezed my forearm.

"I'm sorry, Lucius. Was he sick?"

"He was." I didn't consider it a lie. Depression was most definitely an illness.

"I'm sorry too," Harry added, then winked at Hermione. "I think you found a good one here."

I looked at her, holding my breath. It was the perfect opportunity for her to expose my half-truth, instead she nodded her head.

"Yeah, I think I did."

"She pointed out that Ron wasn't working out the equation correctly — and you can imagine how well he took that — and I was just sitting behind them trying not to laugh."

"Ron hated me for ages though," Hermione added to Harry's story. "And I still don't think he ever actually apologised for being a total prat."

"And he was pissed off that she didn't do as many hours at school as we did. She had already been marked as an exceptional dancer and didn't attend normal school on Fridays."

"He was jealous. He does have two left feet."

Hermione's mood had improved considerably. Harry had managed to drag her back into the conversation when he began telling me stories from when she was younger. She'd sat beside me when we ate, had pointed out flaws in Harry's stories, correcting him on various inaccuracies he'd embellished in his retelling of their teen years. Her hand found its way to my thigh as we sat at the table and chatted after we'd eaten. I rested my arm on the back of her chair, brushing my fingers idly over the back of her neck, glad that she seemed to have returned to her usual mad self.

I was still concerned, however, at her instant shutdown when I allowed my frustration to show. She'd been determined earlier in the evening to not allow me to brood, had allowed her own frustration to show, and while I'd been aggravated by her flippant dismissal of my concerns, I'd trusted her and had not continued the argument.

Couples disagreed all the time — it was a part of two different personalities sharing the same space. But I got the impression she'd not been in a serious, long term relationship before now, which made sense considering her age. And her arrangement with Charlie didn't have real feelings — on her side of it, in any case — so her ability to share her thoughts and feelings was easy, but to process and deal with another person's was possibly something new for her.

And if that was the issue, I would need to be patient and explain that I was frustrated with the whole situation, and that my frustration hadn't been meant to make her feel embarrassed. Especially in front of her friends.

It was just another obstacle that I hadn't foreseen. Our age difference meant she didn't have relationship experience — just friends with benefits experience. And while my experience with women was limited to just two, twenty-five years with the same woman did give me the knowledge of the back and forth that did happen between couples.

"You didn't attend school full time?" I asked, turning my attention to Hermione.

"No, I only went four days a week until I was fifteen and joined the ballet school full time. I danced with my trainer on Fridays and the Royal Ballet school on Saturdays. My parents wouldn't allow me to give up my regular education until they knew I was completely serious about ballet and that I could make a career out of it."

"And she was still the top student in all our classes," Harry said. "Which just annoyed Ron even more."

"We do love Ron," Pansy assured me. "He's just not academically minded."

"And what is it that he does?"

"He's a landscape gardener," Harry answered. "Loves being outdoors, even in the miserable weather."

"And how did you two meet?" I asked then apologised, "This was all probably discussed already. I was just a little too focused on not being angry at Harry."

They both waved my apology away and Pansy looked at Harry.

"Well, every time a certain cute, dark-haired, and quite shy DC needed some evidence fast tracked, the new, sassy forensic lab assistant teased him mercilessly until he asked her out. And we've been together ever since."

Pansy patted Harry's cheek and he circled her wrist and kissed her fingers.

"I'm pretty sure you asked me out."

I began to laugh; with what I'd learned so far about Pansy, it wouldn't have surprised me.

"What drew you to forensics?"

"I've always loved science. I'm certain my parents thought I was a witch as a child, I was forever mixing plant concoctions in the garden."

"I'm sure you would have been an adorable witch."

"Maybe we'll find out next Halloween," Harry said with a wink.

"Um," she rubbed her belly despite the fact she wasn't showing. "We'll have a baby."

"Two adorable witches then," Harry said with an easy shrug.

"You're having a girl?" Hermione asked.

"I told you this would happen," Pansy slapped Harry's arm, "We don't know. I'm refusing to find out, but Harry has decided it's a girl."

"Well, I hope he's right," Hermione said. "A little girl would be perfect. And maybe in the future, Scorp and your daughter might become friends."

"You're matchmaking before she's even born?" Harry asked, grinning in amusement.

"Scorp is a little infatuated with me, and Lucius is terribly jealous." Hermione squirmed and laughed as I poked her ribs. "So maybe something to distract him would help."

"Oh, that's way too precious," Pansy swooned. "We have to invite Katie and Scorpius to lunch with us next Sunday. I want to meet this little Romeo."

"He'll steal your heart," Hermione warned her. "He's already a charmer."

"He's a Malfoy," I boasted. "It's in his genes."

"I don't doubt it," Pansy agreed and nodded towards Hermione. "This one went on and on about her new neighbour— hey! I'm pregnant!"

Hermione had picked up a strawberry from the platter of fruit in the centre of the table and tossed it at Pansy, hitting her on the forehead.

"I don't care," Hermione said with a laugh. "His ego is big enough, you don't need to inflate it further."

"I'm her favourite author," I said in a stage whisper. "She gets awfully embarrassed about it."

"She told you that?" Harry began to laugh. "I'm surprised she's not insisting no one comes near you until the last book in your latest series is written. She was cursing your name a few months back because it wasn't written."

"She came over, pounding on my door and had me sign the first three books." I glanced sideways at Hermione, desperately hoping she wasn't upset at the teasing. But she was shaking her head and smiling. "It was when we first…"

Her hand squeezed my thigh and I covered it with my own, folding my fingers around hers. We both smiled at each other, remembering the spirited conversation that led to our first kiss.

"When you first—?" Harry began but Pansy cut him off.

"Oh god, it's some weird sex thing, isn't it?"

"No," Hermione laughed. "It was the first time Lucius kissed me. We were both being stubborn arses and… then he kissed me. And then he admitted he'd been infatuated with me since the wall thumping."

Harry held both his hands up and grimaced comically. "Nope. You're my friend and I don't need to… We're not discussing the wall thumping."

I leaned against the kitchen counter, folding my arms over my chest, waiting for her to farewell her friends. The evening had gone much better than I had hoped, and I was bracing myself for the 'I told you so' I was sure to receive.

"That went better than expected," she said when she returned to the kitchen. "They both liked you. Especially Harry."

"You can say it," I said.

"Say what?"

I arched an eyebrow and shot her an incredulous look. She grinned as she stood in front of me, both her hands gripping my upper arms.

"I told you so."

I laughed and cupped her face. "You did. And I should have trusted you."

She wrapped her arms around me and turned her head to kiss my palm.

"But, I do need to apologise. I was unintentionally sharp and I upset you. I was frustrated that you forced the issue with Harry and should have discussed it further with you. Instead I embarrassed you in front of your friends. And I am sorry."

Her amused expression dropped and she swallowed hard. She nodded and leaned into me, burying her face in my chest.

And promptly burst into tears.