Draco Lucius Malfoy Black was his full name. Draco had been chosen by his mother as part of an ancient Black tradition of choosing names after stars or constellations, it referred to the dragon constellation located in the north, its stars were not very bright, but it was huge and could be seen from almost anywhere. Lucius had been chosen by his father as a way to remind him that he was his beloved son, equal and different at the same time, a way for him to never forget who had given him life and who would continue to give it for him. Malfoy was his last name, originally from France, the Malfoys were a venerable pureblood family who had come to London in search of expanding their horizons, the Malfoys were competitive, they were ambitious, they were direct and haughty and that had cost them their existence, reducing the list of Malfoys to Draco as the last on the list. His second last name was Black, but Draco had learned to value it even over his first last name, because the Blacks had many characteristics that he found at least interesting.
Because the Blacks, like the Malfoys, were ambitious but had very different methods of getting what they wanted. Because a Black took every opportunity that came their way, even if it meant overstepping their pride, they didn't waste any important contact, even if it wasn't of a blood status worthy of being appreciated, the Blacks didn't boast, they kept quiet and waited for the right moment to make themselves known, they were discreet but dignified, they were elegant but they were careful not to fall into pedantry, because the Black's strength lay in their patience, in their ability to observe the enemy, to distinguish the potential in strangers with a single glance, to keep their heads high, silent, waiting forthe moment, not just any moment,their moment. An art that the Malfoys had never mastered.
Draco knew that his father did not agree with that way of being, a Malfoy never mixed with mudbloods even if their lives depended on it, the Malfoys were not patient, if they wanted something they took it and that was it, they never missed the opportunity to throw in their face everything they possessed, the power, the money, the position. A Malfoy was competitive to the bone, always eager to be the center of attention, to be the best. They could not stand defeat, they were explosive, they rarely planned and most of the time they were moved only by their thirst for more; more power, more money, more influence. They did not care if people looked at them badly, they were not usually discreet even if it was a matter of life or death. A Malfoy.
And not that Draco hadn't inherited many of the characteristics of his paternal name, in many occasions he was more similar to Lucius than he liked to admit, but he always had Narcissa to return him to the safe path, to the path of the Blacks. His mother had taught him many things, but the most important of them and the one that he would carry tattooed in his blood until his death would be the one that was revealed to him when he was only eight years old, one night before going to sleep. His mother had tucked him in, kissed his cheek and then said:
—Money is nothing if you don't have the power and intelligence to use it.
Draco didn't remember exactly what that comment had been about, he only remembered that his mother had been a bit angry about how his father had been handling the family estate lately. That was more than enough for Draco to understand that yes, he was going to inherit a great fortune, but that it was useless without the right character.
He was lucky enough to have been taught by his mother - even behind his father's back - to have been taught to swallow his prejudices in order to obtain benefits, to differentiate a braggart from someone whose power was truly great, to smile naturally when he was trying to get something, to look as if he hadn't broken a plate and at the same time to rule with that same look, without the need for words, without the need to threaten or impose himself, without the need for the Malfoy mask.
Draco suspected that his mother had used that wisdom to marry his father, and the poor man didn't even suspect it, too blinded by his airs of grandeur. It was more than obvious that in that relationship Narcissa was everything; she was the one who commanded everything from the shadows, behind the silhouette of her husband. Next to him, no one imagined that she was the one who made most of the decisions, not even Lucius. For the rest of the world it was Lucius Malfoy who had the power of his family, he was the patriarch.
At first, young Malfoy had wondered why his mother insisted on staying hidden when it was she and only she who was in charge of everything. With her potential she could have the whole world, take the position in the Ministry that her husband had obtained thanks to her, be the most respected person among her partners, have all those headlines in the Daily Prophet that his father did not waste. And when he did not get an answer from himself, he decided to ask her, to which she replied:
—My dear Dragon, you're thinking like a Malfoy. You're thinking of glory, not power.
And Draco understood. The important thing about power was not glory, the important thing about power was the benefits it gave and that could or could not include glory. Glory could bring problems, like his father's many enemies or that blindness that caused him to be adored by everyone. He was only ten when he understood it, he was only ten when he decided that he wanted to follow in his mother's footsteps, to obtain power and use it to his advantage, to stay safe behind someone who wanted the public part of the matter, who would serve as an anchor to power and at the same time as a shield.
He spent entire months training his own magic so that he could feel the power of others, like small vibrations that in seconds revealed to him the magical potential of others. He based his friendships on it, to give them a position in his life, waiting, waiting for that person whose magic was not only powerful, but adapted to his own so that both could build a kingdom and not a miniature one like the one his mother had created when she married the last of the Malfoys. Draco did not see beyond, much beyond, he was looking for something big, a thousand times bigger and for that he needed a person destined for greatness. What was the use of looking for what he already had? A mansion, servants, gold. Didn't his father always say that he deserved the best? And who better than Harry Potter for him?
Harry James Potter Evans, the most famous wizard of recent times, had defeated the man who was supposed to be the most powerful dark wizard in the world at just one year old. Son of a mudblood and a traitor to blood, he thought it was a trifle, he was worth it if what they said about Potter was true and he was as powerful as they said. He thought that he was definitely on his level, he and no one else.
He couldn't say that that afternoon in the robe shop when he first saw him had been planned, it had all been a rather pleasant coincidence. Draco hadn't seen the scar and since the boy had disappeared from the magical world since the night he faced He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, he had no idea he looked like that now. If he had talked to him it had been because he felt his magic adapt to his, like a piece of clay, because that power was so great that it caused his ears to ring. The appearance of the savior of the magical world left much to be desired and if he had only been a Malfoy he wouldn't have even looked at him, but he was a Black too and he valued potential, not appearance.
When he discovered that the skinny boy with round glasses was Harry Potter, he was more certain than ever that the gods were conspiring in his favor, something that was reinforced when the savior was sorted into Slytherin with him and was also assigned as his roommate. He was sure, he had no more doubts, the universe was conspiring so that he could get whatever he wanted and all at the hands of Potter, who besides being powerful, was quite moldable. The hero had grown up with muggles and didn't know many things, Draco knew that he had to teach him, mold him, make him know what he was capable of and take advantage of that. Potter was insecure, he was lost and he didn't see his potential, but Draco did and he had made sure that everyone noticed it.
He used kisses because he had seen his mother do it when she wanted something specific and his father refused to give it to her - he always gave in in the end -, subtle encouragement because his mother used it on him and it always worked, moral support because his intuition told him to and making him believe that without him he was nothing because it was Narcissa's favorite weapon. He had everything under control, Harry cooperated with him without hesitation, he learned quickly and that motivated him to continue.
But then something started to go wrong, something the young Malfoy heir hadn't taken into account, and that was that he had grown fond of Potter. He tried desperately to maintain control, but the more obedient Harry was, the harder it became. He no longer wanted to lead him to greatness out of interest, but because he knew he deserved it. And Harry was so powerful that it hurt to see him wasted among his insecurities. He wanted to see him shine, because he had the potential. And he wondered if his mother would approve of that, selflessly helping someone grow, he wondered if she had ever felt that way with Lucius. It was an uncomfortable feeling, but not wrong.
In the end he had given glory to the hero in exchange for his trust and friendship. He thought that maybe later he could get something more but for now that was enough. He wasn't being a Malfoy or a Black, he was being Draco and it was strange, maybe after all he still had a million things to learn, but until that moment came he would enjoy the company of his new best friend, the powerful and legendary Harry Potter who in just a few days would arrive at Malfoy Manor to spend the holidays.