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Chapter Text

It seemed like they had been in the car forever and yet they were still going. Harry's legs had grown stiff and his butt was numb from sitting in the uncomfortable backseat. His cousin Dudley had decided the best way to spend the long car trip was by picking on Harry. Spitballs made from candy wrappers stuck to Harry's hair and Harry's chest was sticky and irritated where Dudley had "accidentally" spilled his soda on him. Eventually Dudley had grown bored due to lack of response from Harry, so he was now passing the time by kicking the back of his mother's seat, blaming it on Harry, and laughing when Petunia chastised Harry even though it was impossible for Harry's leg to reach far enough to kick her seat from his side of the car.

Finally the car began to slow and Harry hoped they had arrived wherever they were going, but when he peered out of the window he saw they were just at another gas station.

"Pit stop," Uncle Vernon declared pulling up to a pump. "You all have five minutes to stretch your legs, empty your bladders, or whatever else you need to do."

"Candy?" Dudley asked.

"Of course you can get more candy, Dudders," Aunt Petunia said. She had gotten out of the front seat and was now in the process of freeing Dudley from his seat belt. Harry just slumped down in his seat so that no one could see him through the window. He assumed he wasn't allowed out of the car since he hadn't been allowed out during the other pit stops either.

The door next to Harry was snatched open and Uncle Vernon's menacing form loomed over the frightened four-year-old. "Out of the car, Boy," Vernon ordered. "Be back in five minutes or we're leaving you behind. If I hear you've gotten up to anything freaky, I'll make sure you regret it."

"Yes, Uncle Vernon," Harry said softly, liberating himself from his seat belt and slipping out of the car. Keeping his head down, so as to go unnoticed, Harry headed into the gas station about ten paces behind Dudley and Aunt Petunia, and followed them to what he assumed was the public loos. Aunt Petunia said something to Dudley and pulled him into the women's loo with her, so Harry headed into the men's loo by himself.

Harry couldn't have been in the toilet for more than two minutes, but when he came out Aunt Petunia and Dudley were nowhere to be found in the gas station. He assumed they were still in the loo, so he headed out to where Uncle Vernon had parked the car. Only the car was gone, and so was Uncle Vernon and Harry could assume Aunt Petunia and Dudley were gone as well. They had left him. They had left him here alone in some unfamiliar place. What was he supposed to do now?

Harry was scared and people were starting to notice him. Concerned looking gas station patrons were watching him as he stood there staring at the empty spot where the Dursleys' car had been only a minute before. Finally someone bolstered up the courage to approach him; a girl in her late teens came and knelt by his side and spoke to him in the soothing tones one used for frightened children and animals. "Hey little man," the girl said, "Are you here alone? Where are your mommy and daddy?"

Harry didn't know what to say. He stared at the girl with wide green eyes glossed over with a sheen of un-shed tears. "Dead," he let slip out softly. "My mum and dad are dead."

"Oh, I'm sorry sweetie. Who are you here with? Are you here with you grandparents or your aunt and uncle? Who is supposed to be taking care of you."

"My aunt and uncle," Harry said, wondering if he was going to get in trouble with Uncle Vernon for telling a stranger this much. But Uncle Vernon wasn't there anymore. He couldn't punish Harry anymore.

"Where are your aunt and uncle, sweetie?" The girl asked.

"I don't know," Harry admitted. "They left me."

The girl's eyes widened for a fraction of a second, before she gave a determined nod. "Well little man, my name is Amanda. Why don't you come with me and I'll buy you some candy. Would you like that, little man? For me to buy you some candy?" Harry nodded. "Then come on with me." Amanda led Harry over to the car she'd gotten out of, a little red car with no roof on it and another girl leaning against the side.

"Hey Amanda, who is your little friend?"

"I forgot to ask. What's your name, little man?"

"Boy," Harry said, "or Freak. I don't know."

Amanda made a sound like clearing her throat. "How about we just keep calling you Little Man." Harry nodded.

"Well, Little Man," the other girl said, "My name is Erin. Why don't you come with me and I'll get you that candy 'manda promised. Come on. Lil' Man; I don't bite." Erin reached out a hand for him, and Harry hesitantly took it. "Make that call you been meaning to make," Erin said to Amanda.

"I know, Erin," Amanda said, holding up what Harry knew to be a mobile phone. Aunt Petunia had been harping about getting one for Dudley soon, though they all knew Dudley would just break it and who would he have to call anyway?

Erin led Harry back into the gas station and told him to get whatever candy he wanted. When all he chose was a small lollipop, she insisted he got more. Five minutes later, Erin was leading Harry out of the gas station and back to where they had left Amanda at their little red car. Harry was carrying a bag full of sweets and juices Erin had purchased, while Erin smiled at him and sipped from a bottle of soda pop she'd bought. Harry smiled up and Erin, before turning his attention towards the car and Amanda, only to freeze in his tracks. Standing by the car with Amanda was two police officers.

Harry looked at the three people in fright. Had Amanda called the police on him? Had he done something wrong? Was he in trouble for having Erin buy him so much candy; he hadn't wanted her to buy so much he would have been happy with the lollipop he had originally chosen, but she had insisted he get more.

Uncle Vernon had told him that the police's job was to take bad boys like him and lock them away. Uncle Vernon had told him that the police would lock him up somewhere cold with rats and insects, they wouldn't ever give him food not even table scraps, and they would beat him. Uncle Vernon used to threaten to call the police and have them take him away every time he did something bad or freaky.

Had he done something bad to make Amanda call the police on him? Were they going to take him away? Harry didn't want them to take him away. He didn't want to be locked up in the cold with pests and no food. It wasn't fair. Amanda didn't even know him that well, what gave her right to call the police on him!

Erin said something when she realized Harry had stopped walking, but Harry wasn't listening to her. Now that he thought about it, it had been Erin who told Amanda to call the police on him. She had told her to 'make that call'. Erin thought he was bad, too. Neither Erin nor Amanda was on his side.

Erin touched his arm, and Harry yanked himself away and shot a glare at the girl. Before Erin could do anything about it, Harry turn and ran. He had already hit the tree line by time Erin thought to run after him. And he had already hid himself in the overgrowth by time Erin and the others reached the tree line. He knew he wasn't going to be safe from them if he stayed where he was, so he closed his eyes and willed himself away. He'd willed himself away from places before, usually when he was really scared or hurt; he knew that this little trick, that he had kept secret from his aunt and uncle because it was so freaky, would only take him a little ways away, but maybe it would take him far enough that Erin and Amanda wouldn't find him. He never wanted to see Erin and Amanda again.

Like always, Harry felt as if his body was been pulled through a small space, but he knew that meant that the trick was working. When he opened his eyes, he was still surrounded by trees, but he could not hear Erin, Amanda, or the police officers anywhere, also the trees around him were completely different from the trees around the gas station. He had succeeded at willing himself away, and it seemed that he's managed to take himself farther that he'd ever gone before.

He had no idea where he was, but he wasn't the least bit afraid. Whenever he willed himself away, he always asked to be taken somewhere safe. If he had been brought to this strange forest, then he was undoubtedly safe here. Well, as safe as any four year old could be when they were alone in the forest. To be completely honest, Harry was a little bit afraid. Uncle Vernon had taken Harry to a forest once and threatened to leave him there for the wild animals to eat. Uncle had told him a rather vivid story about how he might feel safe enough in the daytime, but the animals would come for him at night, they would surround him and leer at him as they licked their chops, no matter how fast Harry tried to run the animals would be faster, they would tackle him and pin him down with their sharps claws, and that so many beasts would be on him he wouldn't know which one began to eat him first.

OK, so Harry was more than a little bit afraid. But it was still daytime, which meant he had plenty of time to find his way out of the forest. With as much determination that could be mustered by a frightened four year old, Harry picked a random direction and started walking, praying that he would find his way out soon.

Walking through the forest was a nerve-wracking experience. Everywhere you turned, there seemed to monsters reaching out from the shadows to grab you. Forest noises sounded more scary than one thought possible. All the trees looked the same and they conspired against you, taking turns raising their roots to send you tripping to the ground. Bushes and overgrowth grabbed at your clothing and yanked your hair. Birds screamed at you from the trees and unknown entities whispered threats from the ground. When fear set in, logical thoughts were hard to come by. Hunger dug its claws into your stomach while thirst tied a noose around your neck.

Harry had dropped his bag a sweets around the fifth time he'd tripped over a tree root. He'd wet his pants with fear the seventh time he fell and heard up close the whispers coming from within the bushes. The sun had set long ago and with its departure there came even more loud threatening forest sounds. Harry had skinned both of his palms, his knee, and had cut his face. His clothes were ripped from him yanking away from the twiggy fingers of the bushes' grabbing hands. His legs hurt. His mouth was dry. His stomach was growling, but at least that was something nearly comforting in its familiarity. He wanted to stop and rest, but Uncle Vernon had told him the moment he stopped moving was when the forest beasts would catch his scent and set their sights on him.

He kept telling himself to keep moving. Just a little bit farther. Just a few more steps. If you stop, they will get you. Just keep on moving.

He was almost positive his eyes were playing tricks on him when he saw light coming from up a head. But when the light only grew stronger as he went towards it, instead of disappearing like a mirage, he thought maybe it was real after all. Grabbing hold of the last feeble strands of determination he had within him, Harry picked up his pace and headed for the light.

Harry didn't remembering breaking through the tree line. He didn't remember stumbling into to open land, tripping over nothing, and rolling through grass towards a large empty house. He didn't remember finally allowing himself to rest now that he was out of the forest. He didn't remember succumbing to sleep and being moved inside the house by a creature he had never seen before.

All he could remember was feeling completely safe for once in his life.

Chapter Text

The international port-key dropped them right outside the manor gates and Lucius Malfoy couldn't help but look on in disgust as his son, once again, failed to land on his feet. It was unbecoming of a Malfoy to fall to the ground, no matter what their age might be, and by this time Draco had had plenty of opportunities to master dignified wizarding travel. Lucius' wife, Narcissa, liked to argue that Draco is only four years old and that even some full grown wizards couldn't remain standing through port-keying. Lucius, of course, discarded this argument since Lucius himself had learned to travel with dignity by the age of two. It was proper breeding and rearing, but of course Draco wasn't being reared under the same regime Lucius had, since Narcissa insisted on babying the boy all the time. How this little mama's boy was supposed to be Lucius' heir was beyond him, but Lucius could only hope that Draco would eventually grow into a proper Malfoy was if Narcissa backed off and let Lucius actually raise his son.

So the port-key dropped them outside the Malfoy Manor gates, little Draco Malfoy landed on his butt in the grass, Narcissa Malfoy immediately went to her son's side and started cooing over him, and Lucius Malfoy barely contained his dislike of the scene as he strode purposely towards the wrought-iron gates. The gates swung open upon recognizing the head of the family's magic, and Lucius did not spare his wife and child another glance as he set course for the large house.

"Lord Malfoy, sir," a house elf said after opening the door for Lucius. Lucius shot the elf a disgusted look and pushed past him. "Lord Malfoy, sir, Jinx is to be telling you that you has a guest."

"A guest?" Lucius asked. He wasn't expecting any visitors today, especially not so soon after his arrival back from Bordeaux. "Who is this guest and when did they arrive?"

"Lord Malfoy's guest arrived two days ago and Jinx knows not who it is."

"You've let a stranger stay in my house for two days?' Lucius glared at the elf, before raising his cane and striking the miserable creature hard upside the head. "Idiot elf, think of what this so called guest could do with free reign over Malfoy Manor. If they work for the Ministry, just think of what damage this could have caused."

"Jinx is sorry," the house elf whimpered. "Jinx did not think the guest could cause any problems. Jinx does not think the guest works at the Ministry, sir."

"Even if they didn't, the damage would have already been done. Very well, take me to see this 'guest'."

"Right this way, Lord Malfoy, sir." The elf scampered ahead of Lucius, leading him through the entrance hall and up the stairs to the south wing of the manor. "Jinx has not let Lord Malfoy's guest leave the south wing since his arrival. Guest was told not to wander the house until Lord Malfoy's return."

Lucius continued to glare at the elf, but kept to himself the thought that at least the creature had done something right. The south wing of the manor was set up with the sole purpose of accommodating long term and/or unwanted guests. Whomever this visitor was would have had access to all they would need in that one wing, including bedchambers, bathrooms, a library, sitting rooms, access to one of the manor gardens, and a dining room, leaving them no reason to visit the rest of the house. Unwanted guest were often given a room in the south wing where they would be out of sight and out of mind until time for their departure came about.

"Lord Malfoy's guest had been feeling ill when he arrived, but he is better today," Jinx said, opening the door to one of the suites of rooms in the south wing. "Jinx and Dobby has been nursing the guest. We has taken good care of him, we has."

Lucius said nothing as he entered the suite. The sitting room was empty and showed no sign of the rooms being inhabited, but Lucius could only hope that he elf wasn't so severely lacking in intelligence that they would lead the head of the family to an empty set of rooms.

Lucius pushed to door to the bedroom open, and it too looked empty until movement brought Lucius attention to the large bed within the room. Lucius stepped towards the bed and understood right away why he'd thought the bed empty at first glance. The occupant of the bed was a small child, looking to be younger than Draco in fact; he was curled in to himself, with only a mess of black hair visible above the covers, black hair that was easily missed on top of black satin pillow cases. But, what on earth would a child be doing alone at Malfoy Manor and how had he gotten there?

The child in the bed let out a low whimpering sound and rolled over towards Lucius, still asleep. Lucius breath caught in his throat when he saw the round cherubic face of the bed's occupant and the unmistakable scar on his forehead. How in Merlin's name had Harry Potter come to be sleeping in Lucius' home?

"Jinx, alert me when the child awakens," Lucius said nothing else as he strode out of the room and towards his office; he had a Floo call to make.

Just under an hour later, Lucius was sitting in his office filling out the paperwork to expedite the plans he already had set in motion for his guest. It was always good to have allies in every department of the Ministry, for one never knew when or who they would be asking for a favor. Charleston Bronte was the head of the Wizarding Family and Children Services at the Ministry, and he was also an old schoolmate of Lucius'. It had only taken a fifteen minute Floo call to Charleston and Lucius had all the paperwork he needed to go through the proper channels of adopting a child, while still being under the radar about it. Now, all that was left to do was get the thumb print of the child to be adopted and Lucius would Harry Potter as his forever.

"Master Lord Malfoy, sir," Jinx entered the office with a pop, "Jinx has come to say that Lord Malfoy's guest is being awake now. Should Jinx be bringing him here?"

"That won't be necessary," Lucius said, standing from the desk. "You are dismissed."

The house elf left the room with a resounding "pop" as Lucius headed towards the door. He reached the room where he had left the sleeping child and knocked softly, so as not to frighten the boy, before letting himself in. Harry Potter was sitting up in bed and staring drowsily at the door when Lucius entered.

"Hello, Mr. Potter, did you sleep well?" Lucius asked, trying to come off as amicable as possible.

The child looked confused, but nodded slowly. "I'm sorry," the boy said suddenly. "I don't know how I got here, but I didn't mean to..."

"It's alright, Harry, no harm done. How are you feeling?" He added with a small smile.

"Better," the child said softly. "Harry? Is that my name? I've heard the word before, but no one has ever called me it." The boy had obviously been at least mentally and emotionally abused, Lucius assessed. His shy movements, wide eyes, and quick words spoke of an uncertainty about himself and a fear of everyone else. Harry had most likely been raised in a situation where he was punished for speaking and belittled constantly. Lucius inwardly grinned; he could use this to his advantage. If the boy saw him as a personal savior of some kind, he would feel indebted to Lucius and would be more willing to do as he said. If the boy had never felt love before, he would be vulnerable to the manipulations of others.

"Yes," the Malfoy patriarch said. "Your name is Harry Potter and I am Lucius Malfoy."

"Pleased to meet you, Mr. Malfoy," Harry said softly casting his eyes away from Lucius in an almost submissive gesture; most likely this was a conditioned reaction to being introduced to someone new.

Lucius smiled again. "Are you hungry, Harry?" he asked. The boy nodded hesitantly, he'd probably received punishment in the past for making his hunger known. "There's no reason to be afraid of me," Lucius hoped his tone came out as soothing and friendly as he'd wanted it to. Malfoys were good actors and manipulators, but they did not do "friendly" very well. "Would you like to join me for tea so when can discuss some things?" Again, Lucius had to give credit where credit was due; the boy's former guardians had obviously taught him that some questions were really orders in disguise. Harry nodded again. "Good. Jinx," Lucius called.

The house elf popped into the room at once. "How may Jinx be serving Lord, Master Malfoy, sir?"

"Harry and I will be having low tea in the sitting room attached to this suite. Make the necessary arrangements."

"Yes, Master Malfoy, sir." Jinx popped out of the room as quickly as he had entered.

"Come, Harry, we shall move to the sitting room now."

Lucius couldn't help but notice that Harry was even smaller than he'd first appeared when the boy got out of bed. Harry was only a couple months younger than Draco, but he was about three or four inches shorter and much thinner. The boy would benefit greatly from a healthy meal regime and some exercise. But despite his small size, Harry stood up straight and carried himself in a way much similar to a Muggle butler, false pride in his movements mean to reflect the house he was serving.

Lucius led the child to the sitting room where a hot tea pot and a variety of savories were already waiting for them on the low table. "It's a bit early for low tea, but much too late for morning tea, so this will have to do," Lucius said kindly as he sat down on one of the cushions beside the table. Low/afternoon, tea was always served on low tables, so chairs were not an option for sitting in. Lucius personally preferred high/evening tea since it was usually served with strong teas and alcoholic beverages and it was served at a proper dining table with chairs. Of course, even if it was time for high tea he wouldn't risk drinking anything alcoholic for fear of making a bad impression on Harry. If Lucius had his way, by the time high tea was served that night, he would be introducing Harry to the rest of the family as his newly adopted son.

Harry seemed hesitant to take a seat, but Lucius assured him to the best of his ability that he was welcomed at the table and that he could help himself to whatever he liked. As Harry nibbled timidly on a cucumber sandwich, Lucius filled the room with light conversation. "Would you like to try a scone, Harry?" Lucius offered. "Jinx always did make the best scones."

"What exactly is Jinx, sir?" Harry asked after taking the proffered treat.

"He's a house elf, of course. A magical creature that live to serve wizards and witches."

Harry's scone paused on its way to the boy's mouth and returned to the plate in front of him. "There's no such thing as magic." The words were spoken with a conviction that belayed years of repetition and conditioning.

"Who told you that?" Lucius asked.

"My aunt and uncle."

"Ah, but your aunt and uncle a Muggles, meaning they have no magic of their own, and they were most likely jealous of you."

"Why would they be jealous of me?" Harry asked; Lucius had to admit that the boy had more intelligence than your average four year old.

"Because you're a wizard, Harry, and that alone sets you apart from the likes of them."

"A wizard? No, you're wrong."

"Have you ever made things happen, Harry, when you were angry or afraid, things that can't be explained by anything other than magic?"

"Uncle Vernon said that was just freakishness. He said he'd make me grow out of it, if it was the last thing he do."

"But you can't grow out of magic, you're born with and it's a part of you. And denying yourself you magic would be very dangerous to you and the people around you."

"But, what can I do?"

"You'll have to learn, Harry, and you won't be able to learn if you stay with your aunt and uncle and you must admit you were not happy with them at all."

"I... I hold only the deepest gratitude for my benefactors." The words sounded as if they were being spoken by a robot. "They took me in, fed me, and cloth me. I could ask for nothing more."

"How many times did you have to practice that until you could say it exactly right?" Lucius asked. "How many times were you punished for saying them wrong, until your aunt and uncle were satisfied? And even if the words you speak are true, you must admit that there is at least one thing you'd ask for."

"What?"

"Did you not ever desire to be loved by your relatives? Did you ever earn for affections denied to you. Harry, it is in our very nature to want to be loved, and you above all else deserve it. That is why I would like to offer you something, Harry. I'd like to offer you the chance to join a family that will love you unconditionally. Harry, how would you like to be my son?"

Chapter Text

Five year old Blaise Zabini stepped gracefully out of the Floo at Malfoy Manor and stepped to the side to wait for his mother to arrive after him. Blaise glanced around the little Floo room while he waited for the arrival of Camilla Zabini, knowing his mother and her absentmindedness she had probably realized she'd forgotten something at the last minute and rushed back to get it, so Blaise was sure he had time to let his attention wander.

The Floo room in which he'd arrived was much like everything else in Malfoy Manor: overly extravagant. There was expensive landscape paintings on the wall, imported furniture spaced around, a crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling, and hand-woven carpeting on the floor. Blaise understood that it was important to make a good impression on people, but his mother had said that what the Malfoys were really doing with their high-end décor was flaunting their money—as if the entire world didn't already know that the Malfoys were on of the riches families there was. Camilla Zabini had said that it wasn't necessary to be so ostentatious in order to impress people, of course Blaise had had to go to his room to look up what ostentatious meant since the word hadn't come up yet in his studies, but he tended to agree with whatever his mother said.

Despite her dislike of the flaunting of wealth, Camilla still insisted on dragging Blaise along to visit Narcissa Malfoy every month. Blaise wasn't very fond of these trips, because he was usually sent off to play with Draco Malfoy, and Blaise thought Draco was nothing but a whiny spoiled brat. Blaise tried to get along with him for his mother's sake, but Draco Malfoy did not make that an easy task.

The door to the Floo room opened and a messy head of black hair peeked in. "Oh, hello." The boy who spoke looked to be younger than Blaise by at least two years. He had large green eyes and emitted shy submissiveness from his very pores. "I didn't think there would be anyone in here; I was just exploring. This house is so large; it's easy to get lost."

Blaise smile sweetly at the boy. "No harm done. I've just arrived and I'm waiting on my mother."

The boy looked around the room curiously. "How is your mother coming? Wouldn't it be easier to wait for her in the entrance hall?"

It was because the boy showed genuine ignorance and interest that Blaise did not think he was being made fun of. He knew it would be rude for him to go to the entrance hall by himself without his presence first being announced by a house elf. It would also be terribly disrespectful to have his mother escort herself to the entrance hall. There were certain rules and traditions that must be adhered to when visiting another's home, and these rules varied depending on how you arrived. A person who did not follow these rules often found themselves the topic of gossip and insult. In any other situation, Blaise would have taken offense to being told to wait in the entrance hall, because it questioned his intelligence and could easily be taken as a challenge to his family. But there was legitimate confusion and the boy's green eyes, so Blaise took no offense at all.

"We are traveling by Floo," he explained. "That means we have to wait here after we come out of the fire, until a house elf announce our arrival."

"Come out of the fire?" the boy asked. "I don't understand." He seemed hesitant in stating the question, as if expecting to be ridiculed because of his ignorance.

"Are you a Muggle?" Blaise asked, because surely a wizarding child would know how the Floo worked.

The boy shook his head. "Mr. Malfoy—I mean Father tells me I'm a wizard, but I was raised by Muggles until recently."

"Mr. Malfoy lets you call him father?" That was curious, as far as Blaise knew; Draco was the only Malfoy son.

The boy nodded. "He insists on it since he adopted me."

Ah, that would explain it. Very interesting though. Why would the Malfoy adopt a child, one that seemed to be Muggle-born at that? Blaise may have only been five years old, but he was unnaturally intelligent and insightful for his age. People felt comfortable speaking things around him, because they thought him to be a child who would not understand, but Blaise understood almost everything going on around him and if he didn't understand, he would research the first chance he got in order to placate his need to know everything. His mother swore he was going to be a Ravenclaw when he reached Hogwarts, but she also said he was going to be a Slytherin because he was extremely cunning and knew just how to use his knowledge to his advantage.

As far as Blaise knew, the Malfoys were not very fond of Muggles or Muggle-borns. In fact, Blaise was sure he'd heard it spoke of in whispers that Mr. Malfoy had been a follower of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and that he tortured and killed many Muggles and Muggle-borns. So, what was special about this boy that would make Mr. Malfoy change his ways?

"What is your name?" Blaise asked abruptly.

"Harry," the boy said hesitantly. "Harry Potter, well I guess it's not Harry Malfoy."

This boy was Harry Potter? That explained it. Curious though, Blaise hadn't expected the famed Boy-Who-Lived to be so small and shy. Perhaps there was more to the boy than the world knew. Blaise was intrigued, and when he was intrigued he would not pause in his endeavors until he knew everything there was to know about whatever or whoever intrigued him.

"Hello, Harry. My name is Blaise Zabini. Would you like to be my friend?"

Chapter Text

11 years later...

Sixteen year old Harry James Malfoy looked longingly out the bay window in his bedroom at the emerald green lawns surrounding Malfoy Manor. He wanted to go out and enjoy the sunshine, but they were expecting company at the Manor and Harry wasn't allowed outside until said company arrived, especially since the expected company was Harry's best friend Blaise Zabini. Blaise had owled Harry earlier that summer requesting permission to stay at Malfoy Manor for the last two days of summer vacation, because his mother was leaving on her honeymoon soon and he didn't want to stay at Zabini Manor alone. Harry had asked his father, and Lucius had given permission for the half-Italian Slytherin to stay in the guest wing.

Blaise was expected to arrive soon and Harry was to meet him in the entrance hall once a house elf announced his presence. As if summoned by Harry's thoughts, Jinx popped into the room at that moment. Jinx had been officially made Harry's personal house elf when he'd turned eleven. It was a pureblood tradition that once a child reached school age they were to be given a house elf that belonged exclusively to them instead of to the family. Harry had been glad when he'd received Jinx, because he never could quite stomach the treatment of elves by the rest of the family, he couldn't stop them from hurting their elves but Jinx was now his alone so no one could mistreat him.

"Master Harry," Jinx greeted, it had been a battle to get the elf to call him that instead of young Master Malfoy, "You's a guest in the Floo room. Mister Blaise Zabini, it is."

"Thank you, Jinx," Harry said, it had been another battle to get the elf to accept thanks, "please show him to the entrance hall."

"Yes, Master Harry, sir." Jinx bowed and popped out of the room.

Harry carefully schooled his features into a blank expression and smoothed nonexistent wrinkles from his robes, before heading out of his bedroom and descending the stairs towards the entrance hall.

Blaise Zabini was taller than Harry—though that wasn't saying much since Harry was so short. But Blaise was tall by anyone's standards. Standing at an impressive 6ft 6in, Blaise was easily the tallest person Harry knew. Some people found Blaise's height intimidating, but not Harry. Mostly Harry wasn't intimidated because he knew that Blaise would only ever hurt a fly if the fly had hurt someone special to Blaise first. Blaise let few people close to him, but the ones he did let close were cherished and protected with a ferocity that would put a mother lion to shame. The other reason Harry didn't let Blaise's height intimidate him was the fact that anyone who truly knew Blaise knew he was one of the goofiest people to ever walk the planet.

Blaise was also quite handsome. He had a slightly heart-shaped face filled with masculine sharp angles. His eyes were dark drown and intense and his lips were simply kissable—not that Harry had ever kissed him, he and Blaise were best friends and nothing more. His skin was milk chocolate and blemish free—Blaise prided himself on the fact that he had some type of natural resistance to pimples and the other things that marred teen flesh. Blaise's body could put Adonis and Eros to shame, which Harry knew from sharing a dorm with the extremely immodest Zabini for five years and having sleepovers with him for four years prior. It could easily be said that little Blaise Zabini had grew to be a very attractive man, except Harry never took notice to that fact because Blaise was his best friend and nothing more.

"Your first day on the job and you're already late, Zabini," Harry declared in a self-important tone as he stormed into the entrance hall. "What does that say about what I can expect from you in the future?"

"I-I'm so s-sorry, sir," Blaise stuttered. "My-my daughter was s-sick and—"

"Save your excuses, Zabini, I know when things are not going to work out."

"Oh please, Mr. Malfoy, don't fire me. I need this job. I- I have a family to support, an aging mother, six siblings, and three children. I'll do anything if you just let me keep this job."

"Anything, you say," Harry mused. "How about you get over here and give me a hug and we'll get things figured out."

"B-but, sir, Quid Pro Quo is a form of sexual harassment."

"And losing your job isn't going to pay for your sick daughter's medicine now is it?"

"I- I guess you're right, sir, but it's just a hug right?"

"Of course not, I want you warming my bed for a month and then we'll see about getting you a raise."

"But, sir," Blaise exclaimed scandalized, "aren't you married?"

"What does marriage mean when I can screw my new secretary?"

"But, what about your kids, sir?" Blaise held his scandalized pose for a second longer, but Harry could no longer keep a straight enough face to respond, and the two of the burst into fits of laughter.

"Get over here you arse," Harry called through his laughter. Blaise chuckled deep and melodious as he went over and embraced Harry in greeting.

"Don't you two ever get tired of the melodramatics?" a voice asked from the bottom of the stairs. Harry turned and found his brother, Draco, standing there with an exasperated sneer.

"Never!" Blaise declared loudly, releasing Harry and glomping Draco instead. "Harry and I are going to be famous. We'll hop the next plane to the States and take Broadway and Bollywood by storm!"

Draco rolled his eyes and smacked Blaise on the back of the head. "Hollywood, you idiot. Bollywood is in India. And I can just see you trying to make a life as a Muggle actor. You'll never get a role unless they're looking for someone to play the Jolly Green Giant."

"You're just jealous that you still can't handle it when we throw a scene at you. Hey, Harry, picture Draco trying to handle that last scene. Can't you see him like 'late? For what job? You're off your rocker, Harry'."

Harry laughed some more, until Draco shot him a dark look that meant it was time to stop pushing the joke. Harry and Draco had never really gotten along very well. Draco had always seen Harry as an intruder on the family monopolizing Lucius' attentions. Harry had made an effort to try to get on with Draco, but the blond was too much like how Harry remembered Dudley being. It had been Blaise that made them form a tentative sort of truce. Blaise and Draco had found some common ground and became good friends and since Blaise and Harry were best friends, they all had to try to get along. Really, without Blaise around, Harry and Draco would most likely fight every time they were alone together. Either fight, or go six hours in the same room without ever saying a word to each other—that had happened once and it was what had prompted Blaise to dragging to two of them off to the Muggle cinema to see a movie and give them a common interest.

Since they had discovered the joys and flops of the Muggle movie business and the talents and failures of the theater industry, Harry and Blaise often found themselves randomly acting out scenes that popped into their heads at any given moment. Draco never could pull off improv like that and Harry thought that's what made up the difference between best friends and regular friends. Harry loved hanging with Blaise and pursuing their thespian interests together. Blaise was an amazing person. Draco, on the other hand, was not someone Harry enjoyed hanging with, because the blond tried very hard to intimidate Harry and sometimes it worked. Most of the time Harry let it worked, in vain hope of winning Draco's favor. Harry didn't hate Draco, but there was nothing he could do if Draco chose to hate him.

"I have better things to do than spend my time trying to be someone I'm not," Draco snapped, sending a glare in Harry's direction before turning and storming out of the room like the diva he truly was.

"Who pissed in his Cheerios?" Blaise asked, going over and throwing an arm around Harry's shoulder.

Harry shrugged. "I think he's still bitter about father taking me to Italy and leaving him behind." Draco was always jealous of the attention that Lucius paid to Harry. Of course, Draco didn't know to what extent that attention went. "Let's go out back, I want to enjoy the sunshine."

Blaise smiled and nodded. "Sure! It's beautiful out." Harry smiled back and led his best friend outside.

"Jinx!" Harry called once he and Blaise had toed off their shoes on the patio and trailed across the grass barefoot to take a seat in the shade of a large oak tree in the Malfoy yard. "Can you bring us some iced tea," he said when the house elf popped in, "and grabbed those books off my end table for me as well, please."

"Yes, Master Harry," Jinx said, before popping away. Less than a minute later, the elf returned with two glasses of tea and four books.

"Thank you, Jinx." Harry said, grabbing a cup of tea and sifting through the books until he found the one he wanted. He slid the rest of the books towards Blaise, before taking a sip of his tea and opening the book the page he had marked. He got comfortable leaning half against Blaise's side and began to read.

"Listen to this," Harry said about a while later, "'People who read are hiders. They hide who they are. People who hide don't always like who they are.'* Can't the same thing be said about actors?"

Harry felt Blaise shrug. "Well, that would mean the two of us are hiders either way you look at it."

"But we are Slytherins," Harry said. "Slytherin isn't a house to hide in."

"And the first rule of the stage is to only put 90% into the role and keep the other 10% for you. As long as you have that 10% invested in you, there's really no way to hide."

"But it's arguable that actors are hiders, because, to put it as Draco did, we spend our time pretending to be someone we're not."

"But there's so much more to acting than playing pretend. When I act, I can make you laugh, or I can make you cry. For that little time, I can make you forget the world."**

Harry nodded slowly. He loved both reading and acting, but he'd never seen either as a way to hide. Sure, he sometimes preferred to lose himself in a good book instead of facing his problems, but he always knew that the problem would still be there once he set the book down. And acting was just for fun, a way for him and Blaise to goof off. If anything, acting made him more aware of whom he truly was, because when you spent your time acting like someone else you get to know yourself quite intimately.

"Acting teaches us to be ourselves," Blaise said, as if he'd known what Harry was thinking. "It would take a truly unstable person to become so completely immersed in a role that they lose touch with reality."

"But it's possible," Harry said.

"Anything is possible, Harry, but what you seem to be failing to realize is that actors and readers aren't trying to escape reality; they're creating their own reality."

"I guess the question that needs to be asked is rather or not we have something to hide."

Blaise nodded. "So, do you have something to hide?"

Harry's eyes fell closed as his thoughts drifted down a path that he usually tried to avoid thinking about. Yeah, he had something to hide, but it wasn't because he was ashamed. It was just no one would understand if they knew. Lucius was his father after all; it was ok to be loved by him. "Nope," he said after a while hoping Blaise didn't think too much into his pause, "I've got nothing to hide. Do you?"

Blaise turned his dark brown eyes down to look at Harry. "Only the fact that I'm madly in love with you," he said with a completely serious face.

Harry looked up at his best friend in surprise, and inwardly sighed in relief when he saw the mischief shining in the other's eyes. Blaise was just playing a scene; he didn't really mean it at all. "Oh, Blaise," Harry said in the voice of a love-struck schoolgirl, "I never knew you felt that way. I love you, too. It's really too bad that I'm engaged to marry to Charlotte Bronte, or was it Jane Austen? I never could quite keep up with my engagements."

"Oh, my dear Harry, what your fiancée doesn't know won't hurt me. One kiss, my love, and I promise not to press for more."

"Well, I suppose one kiss wouldn't hurt. But we really can't let Princess Diane know."

Blaise leaned in slowly as if to kiss Harry on the lips, but at the last minute he shifted his target and began to tickle Harry relentlessly.

"Blaise!" Harry writhed in the grass under Blaise's ministrations. He laughed and tried to push the other boy off, but Blaise was unmoving as he tickled in friend into submission. "Stop it, before I pee my pants!" Harry yelled, trying to crawl away from Blaise's fingers skillfully torturing his stomach and sides.

Blaise tickled him for a few seconds longer, before finally relenting leaving Harry breathless in the grass.

"Can't keep up with your engagements, huh?" Blaise teased. "There was so many ways you could take that scene, and that's what you came up with."

"Shut up," Harry huffed, absently kicking his legs in Blaise's direction and smiling when he hit flesh. "We were having a serious conversation and you threw that in out of nowhere."

"That's why it's called improv."

Harry sat up and stuck his tongue out at Blaise. "Idit!"

"Idit, Harry?"

"I-di-ot," Harry said stressing every syllable. "Idit!"

"Talking like that was ok when we were four years old, Harry, but you should know how to enunciate by now."

"And you should know how to count pass twenty without having to take off your clothes."

"Arse," Blaise declared. ***

"Git."

"Tosser."

"Pouf."

"Fairy!"

"Wanker!"

"Cocksucker!"

"Tittie-licker!"

"Piss-pot."

"Whore!"

"Transvestite!"

"Morphen-dite."****

"Daddy's little princess!"

"Mommy's little bitch!"

"Slut!"

"Fudge-packer."

"Pillow-biter."

"Gryffindor garden tool."

"Cocksucker!"

"Already been said, loser!"

"Fuck you!" Blaise yelled in retaliation.

"Only in your dreams!" Harry giggled. Blaise swung as if to hit Harry, but Harry ducked out of the way and stuck out his tongue. "Missed me! Missed me! Now you got to kiss me!" Harry teased.

"I'll kiss you alright!" Blaise yelled. "Kiss my foot up your ass!" He tried to grab Harry, but Harry jumped to his feet and ran away.

"Nan-nanny-nan-nan, you can't get me!" Harry declared, sprinting across the grass.

"We'll see about that!" Blaise declared, hopping to his feet and chasing his best friend across the yard.

If it wasn't bad enough that Harry was naturally slower than Blaise because he was so much shorter and had less lung power, he was laughing so hard that he could barely remain standing and Blaise caught up with him in seconds. Blaise's long arms looped around Harry's waist from behind. The black boy easily picked Harry up and swung him around as if he weighed nothing. "Put me down you big oaf!" Harry yelled through his laughter, but of course the order was ignored as Blaise continued to spin the two of them until he got too dizzy to stand, and fell to the ground taking Harry with him.

Harry landed on top of Blaise when the fell on the ground, and he couldn't find the strength to move as he continued to laugh and try to catch his breath. He lay there with his eyes closed, just enjoying the moment. It was always so fun being with Blaise. The half-Italian boy was as immature as they came and always knew how to make Harry laugh. There was never a dull moment with Blaise around.

"Get off," Blaise groaned, "you're heavy."

"Nnn," Harry groaned back, not bothering to either move or open his eyes; Blaise could put up with having Harry's weight on him for a little while longer.

"Ahem," someone cleared they're throat, causing Harry's eyes to instantly fly open. "Am I interrupting something?" Lucius Malfoy asked with a hard look.

"No, Father," Harry said quickly. He sat up and moved away from Blaise as fast as he could. "We were just playing around."

Lucius gave Blaise a distrustful look, before turning his attention back to Harry. "I'm sure there are some games you should have more pride than to participate in out on the lawn for the entire world to see."

Harry barely avoided flinching at Lucius' hard words. Lucius was mad at him. Harry hated when his father was mad at him. "It wasn't like that, Father," he said pleadingly. Blaise probably couldn't understand the exchange, but that was ok because there was some things that Blaise didn't need to understand. Things like Harry's need for his adopted father's love.

Lucius stared hard into Harry's eyes, as if searching for the boy's soul. Harry stared fearlessly back. He had nothing to hide, not from Lucius at least. Lucius knew everything about Harry. Lucius loved him like no one else did or ever could.

"I think it's time the two of you went to wash up for dinner," Lucius finally said.

Harry sighed dejectedly. Was Lucius still angry? He couldn't tell, and that's what made Harry so disheartened. "Yes, Father," he said softly. "Come on, Blaise," he called to his friend as he headed across the lawn towards the patio where they had left their shoes.

"Harry?" Blaise's low voice pulled Harry from the thoughts that he was allowing himself to drift into. If Lucius stayed mad, would that mean he wouldn't love Harry anymore? Would he no longer visit him at night and tell him how special he was? Would he send Harry away? "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Harry said with a smile that contained all of his acting ability. "Why wouldn't I be?" he asked, stepping up to the sink in the ground floor washroom to clean his hands.

Blaise shrugged and smiled. "Don't know," he said moving to stand at the sink next to Harry, "you just seemed kind of far away."

Harry chuckled and nudged Blaise teasingly with his shoulder. "Just went on a little trip is all, but it's ok; I'm back now."

"And where did that trip take you?" Blaise inquired. "To Niagara Falls, perhaps?" He asked, before slashing Harry with water from the faucet.

"Hey!" Harry yelled, splashing Blaise back.

This would have escalated into a full out water fight, if Draco hadn't chose that moment to enter the room. "I simply love the maturity level in here," Draco drawled, shouldering his way in to stand between Harry and Blaise. "If you two insist on acting like three year olds, I see no choice but so separate you," he said, leaning over the sink to wash his hands.

Blaise rolled his eyes at Draco. "Spoilsport," he grumbled, before going back to washing his hands and face. Harry followed suit with little protest.

Once the three boys had cleaned themselves up, they made their way to the dining room together where Lucius was waiting for them. Narcissa, of course, wasn't present at the meal. She was away shopping in France. Narcissa was always looking for an excuse to be away from the house; something else Draco blamed Harry for. Apparently before Lucius decided to adopt Harry, the three Malfoys used to have all their meals together as a family. But now Narcissa, who didn't seem to like Harry for some reason, was always avoiding family situations.

"Father," Harry and Draco greeted Lucius at the same time.

"Lord Malfoy," Blaise greeted the head of the family hosting him.

Lucius gave a nod back in greeting and the boys took their seats. Draco always sat in the chair on the right closest to where Lucius sat at the head of the table. This was the seat traditional reserved for the heir of the family. Harry's position should have been in the seat next to Draco, but instead he sat directly across from the blond in the seat closest to Lucius on his left. This was the seat that Narcissa would have been in had she been present; the seat reserved for the Lady of the house. It had been Lucius who declared Harry would take that seat when Narcissa wasn't there. This had flattered Harry, because symbolically sitting there meant Harry was the closest to Lucius' heart. The left side was the love side and was generally reserved for wives and daughters. The right side was the power side, thus reserved for the heir and other sons.

Of course, Lucius said the reason he wanted Harry to sit there was to have both of his sons close to him, but Harry knew the real reason. His father loved him, that's why he was closest to his heart. Him sitting in his mother's place was another reason Draco was so bitter towards Harry.

Blaise was, by now, used to the strange seating arrangements in the Malfoy home and dutifully took the chair next to Harry. As soon as all parties were seated, the meal appeared before them on the table and they all waited for Lucius to take the first bite before beginning to eat. The meal past quickly and mostly in silence, because Lucius was angry and had nothing to say, Draco never had anything to say, Harry had a lot on his mind, and Blaise seemed to sense that it would be wise to keep his mouth closed for once.

After the meal, Draco disappeared to go do whatever he spent his time doing, Lucius headed to his study to work, and Harry led Blaise upstairs where he forcefully put on a smiling face and spent the evening goofing off. Before long, Harry was saying goodnight to Blaise and sending him off to the guest room to sleep.

Once alone in his rooms, Harry took a long bath, before pulling on his pajamas and heading to bed.

Harry was still awake when the door to his bedroom opened sometime near the middle of the night. He inwardly smiled, glad that his father wasn't still angry with him. Lucius slipped into Harry's bed and Harry immediately went into his arms. He moaned when he felt gentle kisses being pressed along the side of his neck, only to let out a whimpered when sharp teeth bit into his shoulder. "Father?"

Lucius acted as if he didn't hear Harry's pained cry as he quickly divested the boy of his pajamas. Gentle touches traced across Harry's flesh, making him assume that the only punishment he would be receiving was that sharp bite. Lucius always said he never liked to hurt Harry, but that the best way to teach as lesson was through the flesh.

Harry moaned when he felt Lucius wrapping a hand around his already hard cock. One of the first lessons Harry had been taught through his flesh was how it felt to be loved. Ever since he was small, Lucius had whispered to him wards of love and endearment. By the time he was six, Lucius had begun to show that love through physicals means. Harry moaned again and arched into the hand slowly stroking him. "Father," Harry whimpered.

"Harry, my love," Lucius said softly against Harry's neck, "you really upset me today. Do you know why?"

Harry shook his head slowly. His cheeks were flushed and his brain foggy from the pleasure being inflicted on him, but he tried to pay attention to the words his father was saying.

"The way you were playing with that Zabini boy," Lucius said, one of his hands drifting down to circle Harry's quivering entrance. "It seemed to me as if you loved him in a way reserved for me."

"Never, Father," Harry groaned as the questing finger slipped inside of him. "Only you, I love only you."

"Are you sure?" Lucius asked, gently nipping on of Harry's nipples.

"Yes," Harry moaned, "Only you."

"Good boy," Lucius pulled away and hovered over the boy spread out before him. Harry let out a needy whimper as the hands that had been pleasuring him were removed. His father grinned, before leaning down and stealing his lips in a heated kiss. Harry moaned and melted under the ministrations. "Tell me what you want," Lucius breathed against his mouth.

Harry knew this was wrong. Admittedly, back when this had all started years ago he hadn't known, but he wasn't such a young fool anymore. He knew this wasn't the kind of relationship a father and son should have, not even if it was only through adoption. But Harry didn't care. He was desperate for love, he'd always been desperate for love and he only wanted that love to come from Lucius.

"Love me," he pleaded.

And Lucius seemed happy to comply.

Chapter Text

Lucius Malfoy was a powerful man. He sat as the head to many of the wizarding world's most profitable businesses, and he had his hand in every influential, political cookie jar there was. It would take nothing more than a single letter for him to change your life, be it for the better or worst. And because of this, everyone in the wizarding world with even the smallest amount of self-preservation knew not to cross this man. His adopting of Harry Potter eleven years ago had only served to increase Lucius' power and influence on the world, but what no one knew is that it was not the want for more power that had led him to adopting the boy. Not at all, it was for Lucius' own personal interest that he had brought the poor orphaned child into his family.

Lucius' marriage to Narcissa Black had been a political move, and while he did enjoy the power and influence that came with the combined power of the Malfoy and Black families, Lucius had never been a lover of the fairer sex. That had been one of his prompting for adopting Harry.

Harry Potter was a beautiful person and beauty was one of the pleasures of life Lucius truly appreciated. Even when the boy had first graced his presence as barely more than a toddler, he'd had a certain beauty about him. The young Harry that Lucius had first met had been filled with innocence, naïveté, hesitant trust, and an undying need to feel wanted, accepted, and love. Who was Lucius to deny the boy what he so desperately craved?

Of course, Lucius had had to let the boy grow up a bit before he could truly appreciate the beautiful young male quickly falling under his spell. If Lucius pushed for too much too soon, then all of his work would backfire and he'd lose both Harry's trust and silence. It was progressive actions over the years that got him to the point that he could take the boy willingly to his bed whenever he wanted without fearing the consequences.

Lucius wouldn't go so far as to say he'd brainwashed his adopted son, but he did quite enjoy having the boy begging for him to fuck him just to show his love. Another thing he enjoyed was hearing Harry moaning for his 'father' to fuck his harder and love him deeper. Even Lucius would admit that it was a sick perversion in the enjoyment of being called father while he fucked a boy who really was young enough to be his son. Of course, Lucius had no desire to fuck his trueborn son; his love for Draco was completely different from his love of Harry's body and Lucius might have some pedophilic inclinations, but even he drew the line at incest. Lucius wasn't like his own father, after all. Abraxas Malfoy had truly believed in teaching discipline through the flesh and had raped and abused Lucius regularly throughout his childhood. No, Lucius would never stoop so low as incest.

So, it was a good thing Harry wasn't Lucius' trueborn son. Much like Narcissa, who Lucius had forced himself to fuck every night between their wedding and Draco's conception, Harry was a Malfoy in name only—meaning it wasn't at all incestuous to have a sexual relationship with him. Lucius wouldn't have had such a beautiful little fuck toy had Harry actually been his son by blood, so thank Merlin for small mercies.

And while Harry was always beautiful no matter the time or day, Lucius couldn't help but think Harry looked his best the way he was now: spread out on the bed, flushed, head thrown back, lips parted and bruised, eyes closed or glazed over with pleasure, hair spread out around him, and covered in bites and bruises. Harry was gorgeous when he looked thoroughly debauched. Lucius had three fingers up the boy's ass and he was more than ready to have his cock buried inside that tight heat.

"Father," Harry moaned and Lucius once again struck his prostate. "I'm ready," the boy begged. Lucius had trained him well. He was sure there was no other person in the world as eager to have a cock up their arse as Harry was to have Lucius.

Lucius captured his son's delectable lips in another kiss as he removed his fingers. "Then get me ready for you," he ordered after biting off the kiss. Harry moaned, but he was quite enthusiastic about the request. Harry was eight years old the first time Lucius had performed fellatio on him; it was shortly after his ninth birthday that he was required to return the favor. Harry's technique had improved greatly since that first clumsy blowjob.

Lucius leaned back against a pile of pillows as Harry slowly licked a fiery path up his cock, before nipping lightly on the tip of it, then swallowing half of it down his throat. Harry sucked hard as he pulled up and Lucius glistening penis popped out of him mouth with and obscene sound. Both of Harry's small hands wrapped around the hard shaft and he sucked with alternating pressure on the head while twisting his hands in opposite directions. Lucius couldn't help but moan at the amazing feel of the action and, oh Merlin, the thing Harry was doing with his tongue should be illegal. Harry swallowed the majority of Lucius', at this point dripping, erection down his throat again as one of his hands drifted lower and began to fondle Lucius' balls. Damn that boy was talented.

"Enough," Lucius said as he felt a familiar feeling coiling in the bottom of his stomach. Harry slowly pulled away and gave one last gentle nip of the tip of Lucius cock. Lucius had to close his eyes to get himself back under control. "Up on your knees," he ordered once he felt he was no longer at risk of exploding any second, "grip the headboard." As always, Harry was quick to comply.

Harry raised himself up on his knees and bent forward to grab the top of the headboard, his head bowed in shame. Lucius had taught the boy that it was a punishment to have to face away from him as Lucius fucked him. Considering how Harry had been playing with the Zabini boy earlier that day, Lucius felt justified in punishing the boy like this. Lucius moved up onto his knees as well and pressed himself against Harry's back. He kissed the boy lightly on the shoulder, before grabbing his waist and slamming into without warning.

The sound that came from Harry's mouth was a mix between a scream and a moan. Lucius didn't even wait to give the boy time to adjust before pulling out and slamming back into that tight little hole, hoping to obtain the same sound again. But, of course, Harry was used to having Lucius' cock up his arse and he adjusted quickly to the girth. It wasn't long before Harry was moaning and thrusting back against Lucius, calling out 'father' and begging for more.

Lucius had his head thrown back and was cursing to the sky as he thrust into that amazing heat. He'd been fucking Harry for five years now, but still the boy was as tight as the first time. He was never going to get tired of fucking this boy.

"Father," Harry moaned. Lucius groaned and continued to slam into the smaller body over and over, gripping Harry's hips tight enough to bruise, and hitting against the boy's prostate as much as possible. "Father," Harry moaned again, Merlin did Lucius love that sound; it was almost enough to make him come… good thing Lucius had better self-control than that. "Ah, Father," Harry called out, before his already deliciously tight hole tightened even more around Lucius' cock. Harry came with a loud cry and pulled Lucius over the edge with him. It had been too long since the last time Lucius had ever came so hard.

Harry slumped against the headboard as he tried to gather his breath, and Lucius allowed himself to slouch against Harry's back as he came down from his pleasure high. After a while, Lucius sat up and pulled his limp cock out of Harry's abused hole. Harry seemed to have lost the ability to support himself as he allowed himself to simply fall against the bed, not bothering to move into a more comfortable position.

Lucius said nothing as he threw his legs over the side of the bed and began searching for his clothes.

"Father," Harry called softly when he realized Lucius didn't plan on sticking around. "Can't you stay with me tonight?"

Lucius' back was turned to Harry so he allowed himself to roll his eyes; perhaps he'd made the boy too needy and dependent on him. "You have company staying in the house and Narcissa is due back sometime tomorrow morning, it would not do to have either of them to find us together."

Harry was silent for a moment; Lucius had told him multiple times during his childhood that what they did together had to remain secret. He'd told him that if anyone found out how much the loved each other they would get jealous and force them apart. Of course, Lucius was sure Harry was no longer naïve enough to believe that, but surely the sixteen year old knew it was taboo to get caught in bed with your father.

"Could you at least tuck me in?" Harry asked. Lucius finished dressing and turned to face the boy still in the bed. Harry looked like a child all alone in that big-ole bed. His naked body was covered in sweat and love bites; some of Lucius' come was dripping down his thighs, yet this did not at all take away from how innocent he looked. His green eyes were lost, but trusting as he gazed up at the man he calls father.

Lucius had to close his eyes and turn away. This scene was too familiar. Every time Lucius bedded Harry, this was what happened afterward. Harry seemed to regress to the mindset of the same broken child that had originally found his way into Lucius' life. Lucius almost felt bad for what he'd done to the child, for that was what Harry was at this moment a young child completely lost and forsaken by the world. Lucius knew that in the morning Harry would be back to himself, but right now Harry was so infantile it made Lucius glad that he did not have a conscience. Of course it hadn't always been this way with Harry. In the beginning, Harry was a bit clingy after sex, but he'd at least been mentally stable. No, this regression cycle had only come after…

He looked back at the boy and nodded. "Alright."

Harry's face lit up with a large smile at the word. Lucius pulled back the bedcovers and Harry crawled on his knees to lie down properly. Lucius pulled out his wand and cast a quick cleaning charm on the boy, before he pulled the covers up and carefully tucked it around him. Harry smiled at him again. "Can you stay until I fall asleep?"

"I don't think that would be wise."

Harry pouted. "Tell me you love me." Lucius had made him dependent on affection after-all.

"I love you," the words came out so easily, but if there was actual truth in them Lucius did not know. "Now sleep, child."

Harry beamed at him, only to let out a yawn. "I love you, too, Father. Good night."

"Good night," Lucius said softly, before taking his leave of the room.

Harry was back to himself when he came down for breakfast the next morning. Lucius had known he would be, but still he breathed an inward sigh of relief when he saw that the boy was acting like a sixteen year old and not a lost child. Lucius sat at the head of the table watching Harry and Zabini goofing off while Draco just sat in brooding silence. Narcissa returned half way through the meal; she took one look at Harry sitting in the seat that should have been hers and declared that she was tired and was going to take a nap.

Of course, Lucius knew she wasn't really tired. He had suspected that she knew something of his relations with Harry for a while now, but like the good wife that she was, she kept her mouth closed and stayed out of Lucius business while and went off to have her own affairs outside of the house. Lucius also knew that it really upset Narcissa that he wasn't interested her. The marriage that had been a political move for Lucius had been out of genuine love on Narcissa's part. Lucius had nothing against Narcissa as a person, but she was the wrong gender for a lover.

Not long after breakfast ended, Harry and Zabini went out into the backyard again and Draco headed upstairs towards his mother's room. Lucius had nothing pressingly important that needed to be done, but he set course for his office anyway, because the large picture window in the room had a great view of the backyard.

Lucius had been in his office the previous day when he'd seen Harry and Zabini together in the backyard. Harry had been leaning against Zabini while reading a book, until the two of them started talking. For a moment, Lucius had been sure the two boys were about to kiss until Zabini had started tickling Harry instead. It barely served to mollify the green monster roaring in his stomach when he realized they were just playing a scene. Draco had explained to Lucius long ago, after he'd noted the elder's Malfoy's confusion when he was watching some of the interactions between Harry and Blaise, about how Harry like to "improv" at random. From what Lucius could understand, the influence of Muggle cinema and theater left Harry with the need to constantly act out situations and become other people that only existed in his head. There was a different name for that when Lucius was growing up; Disorganized Schizophrenia. Sometimes Lucius wondered if it was only Muggle culture that pushed Harry to try acting, or if it somehow had to do with Lucius as well.

Whatever the reason, Lucius had to admit that Harry and Zabini were both quite the skilled actors and even though nothing had happened between the two, Lucius still felt that Harry was much too comfortable around the other boy. It had been an act of jealousy, as well as the desire to re-exert himself as the dominant figure in Harry's life, that had led to Lucius' visit to his adopted son's room the previous night.

Lucius was happy to note that at this moment Harry was keeping a no contact distance between him and his little friend. It really was unfortunate that the boys would be returning to school the next day. While living under the roof Lucius had so graciously provided him, Harry would never so much as dream of betraying Lucius, while away at Hogwarts there would be nothing to remind Harry that Lucius was his one and only. Lucius wasn't sure he'd be able to wait until Yule to have Harry in his bed again, and he wasn't sure he trusted Zabini not to make a pass at him. Lucius would just have to make an excuse to visit the school sometime during the year.

That decided, Lucius took a seat at his desk and tried to read over some of the documents awaiting his attention. Unfortunately, he couldn't concentrate on the task at hand and found his attention drifting back to the large window overlooking the backyard. He turned back just in time to see Zabini slap Harry. It took nearly a full minute for Lucius to realize that the boys were just playing another scene and not really fighting—which was good because Lucius did not want to have to explain to Camilla Zabini why he had murdered her son.

Lucius' relief wore off instantly and was replaced with a familiar green monster when he saw the boys rolling around in the grass trying to pin each other. That was too much physical contact to be called innocent playing; maybe he would have to murder the Zabini boy after all. As if sensing the heat of his glare, Harry looked up towards Lucius' office at that moment and their eyes met through the window. Lucius smiled to himself when Harry instantly pushed Zabini off of him and got to his feet. Harry looked sheepishly towards where he now knew Lucius was watching, before turning back to his friend and—Lucius could only assume—found a decent way to end the scene that had been getting too out of hand.

Harry said something and Lucius could see Zabini's face crumble as the black boy fell to his knees. The emotions playing across the two young men's faces was almost real enough to fool Lucius, except they apparently couldn't keep up the act much longer and descended into fits of laughter. The two boys lied down in the grass, facing up at the sky, both with faraway looks on their young faces.

Lucius was finally able to pull his attention away from the boys and concentrate on his work. A few hours later, a house elf came to inform Lucius that Narcissa had taken Draco out of the Manor for the afternoon and Harry had requested that lunch be delivered to him and Zabini on the patio, and to ask would Lucius rather join the boys outside of have lunch in his office.

Lucius turned and looked out of the window again and saw the two boys walking across the grass on their hands. Harry's was smiling and laughing in a way Lucius had never seen before. Even from this far away, Lucius could see the simple enjoyment of a summer day and a close friend lighting up his adopted son's face. Lucius knew that if he went down there, that look would vanish in an instant. Harry would still smile if Lucius was there, but it would not contain such joy and contentment. Harry would be hesitant and on edge trying to avoid saying or doing something Lucius wouldn't approve of. Harry would smile only for the depraved love between father and son.

"I'll eat here," Lucius said and the elf took the words for the dismissal it was.

Narcissa and Draco returned in time for dinner. Narcissa sat in the seat closest to Lucius on his left, Draco sat opposite her, Harry next to him, and Zabini across from him simply to keep the table balance. The house elves cooked a feast in honor of the boys returning to school the next day. There was light conversation throughout the meal, but the atmosphere was tense and uncomfortable.

"Draco and I will be returning to Diagon Alley after dinner," Narcissa said sometime near the end of the meal. "We have some last minute things to take care of. Most likely we'll rent a room at the Leaky tonight and just meet you all on the platform in the morning."

Lucius nodded. "That's fine. Be sure you have all your things for school, Draco. I won't owl you anything you leave behind."

"Yes, Father," Draco said formally, "May I be excused?"

Lucius gave his consent and Draco quickly headed upstairs. A few minutes later, Lucius consented for Harry to Blaise to leave as well. Alone with Narcissa, Lucius briefly considered leaving as well, but he knew he would have to face her sooner or later.

"So," Narcissa said, "I never asked, how did your trip to Italy go?"

Of course she would have brought that up first. Lucius had arranged to be out of the country the first two weeks of the boy's summer vacation because he knew Narcissa would be staying at the manor at that time and he wanted some "alone" time with Harry. Of course Lucius had said that it was a business trip that was taking him out of the country and that he'd only taken Harry with him because Narcissa and Draco made it so obvious that they didn't like the adopted Malfoy.

"It went well," Lucius said calmly. He was not about to play into Narcissa's hands.

"Draco mentioned that he would like to go on a trip with you sometime. I would have taken him to France with me, but he wanted time with his father. Of course, he knew that he wouldn't be your top priority, but there's really no arguing with young boys when it concerns their fathers; not even if it's only their adopted father it seems. "

"Where are you going with this, Narcissa?" Lucius growled. Was she implying that she had tried to talk to Harry about him? Lucius wasn't worried that Harry had answered her questions, he had taught him better than that after all.

"I've always known what you've been doing to that boy, Lucius," Narcissa stated coldly. "I never had any concrete evidence, but it would take an idiot not to notice the kind of attention to pay to him. I can only be grateful that you have not turned the same attention onto Draco; thankfully it seems you have some morals. But Draco recently said to me he would do anything for just a little of your attention, no matter what kind of attention it was. I did not take kindly to hearing my son say he would be willing to become your whore just so he could spend a little time with his father. Soon enough, I will have some evidence about what you're doing to that poor boy, and when I have it I will not keep it to myself."

"So what's you ultimatum? What is it going to take to buy your silence?"

"What makes you think my silence can be bought? That boy does not deserve what you do to him, and if opportunity presents itself—"

"You'll what? How can you expect to save him from me if you can't even bring yourself to say his name? If I wasn't the only person given even the slightest bit of love, Harry wouldn't play so willingly into my hands. Besides, I know you, Narcissa. You wouldn't have brought any of this up unless you thought you could use it against me somehow. Now, tell me, what do you really want?"

Narcissa glared icy daggers that could have made hell freeze over, but Lucius calmly met her gaze completely unfazed. "I want you to talk to Draco," she finally said, "pay him some attention, but not the sick attention you pay to that boy. I can't make you leave him alone, but soon enough you're going to do something that will make him grow a backbone and push you away. Until that time, can you at least attempt to make Draco feel as if he's worth something to you? No child should feel as if he's not good enough for his father's love. Maybe if he felt worthy of your attention, he wouldn't be doing the stupid things he's doing now."

"What has he been doing?" From what Lucius could tell Draco didn't do much of anything but study and cling to his mother's skirts like a little sissy.

"Think about it, Lucius! If a child cannot find love at home, what do they do?" Narcissa's blue eyes glared coldly at Lucius. "They look for the love elsewhere. If my son comes to me again, terrified because he thinks he might be pregnant, I will kill you."

"Are you saying that Draco—?"

"Don't you dare judge him! You don't have the right. If you showed him that you do love him, he wouldn't have to sleep around looking for love and finding only lust."

At around midnight, Lucius left his office and headed for Harry's room. Harry was lying awake awaiting his arrival. Minutes later, Lucius was in the bed preparing the boy to be taken. Harry was, as always, accommodating to Lucius's desires. But once again, after all was done, Lucius watched his adopted son regress into the mindset of a broken, four year old boy searching for love… and finding only lust.

Chapter Text

Platform 9 ¾ was filled with the usual September first crowd: parents crying and fretting about their children's departure; older students running to greet friends they hadn't seen in a while and rushing to claim their compartments; younger students clinging to their parents as they warred between mixed feelings of fear, excitement, and anticipation; owls, toads, and cats calling their animal greetings from their cages. Blaise Zabini stood in the center of it all, like a rock in the ocean with waves of bodies and sounds crashing down around him. Unmoving, but sentient; silent, but observant; detached, but cognizant, Blaise stood impartially judgmental of all that went on around him.

The Platform was the same as every year, yet Blaise found no comfort in the familiarity, but rather a sense of jaded predictability. If all the world was a stage, why was the last act full circle with the opening, today the same as yesterday and the second verse the same as the first? Where was the spark that made each day worth waking up for? What incentive was there for getting out of bed every morning? What lesson was there to be learned from this futile repetition?

Blaise had always believed that the spark in life was something that came from inside of you. If you could not ignite a fire within yourself that burned away life's innate boredom, then you were just a waste of space. You go nowhere by standing still, but you miss out on life when you choose to walk the same beaten path day after day.

Blaise liked spontaneity. He liked passion. He liked action. He liked playing with fire, even if he got burned. He'd choose to jump instead of waiting to fall. He'd sprint down a path even if he didn't know where it was headed. He just couldn't take life stationary. The world was his oyster, and he liked throwing the pearls at unsuspecting passersby.

It had been an act of spontaneity that had initially landed Blaise in the bed of Draco Malfoy. Blaise didn't love Draco, but he did find Draco very attractive, and Draco had been willing so they had becoming sex-friends. Deep in a dark, forgotten corner of Blaise's heart, he knew he was only satisfied with this type of relationship because he held no hopes of ever finding love. Blaise didn't believe in love. His mother had eight ex-husbands: few of them had lasted more than a year. Watching his mother go through so many husbands had left Blaise disenchanted with the whole concept of love. He was never going to fall in love, but he could enjoy the pleasures of the flesh.

Sex was playing with fire. Sex was passion and action. And sex with Draco was always spontaneous and different. Blaise wasn't blind. He knew their relationship meant something different to Draco. He knew Draco was in love with him. He knew that since he could never share the same feelings, then he should end things with the blond before it became ugly. He knew, but he was much too selfish to relinquish such an amazing bed partner.

Blaise also knew the exact moment Draco started using drugs. He knew when the drug use had turned from and occasional thing to an all-out addiction. He knew if Draco didn't get help, he could wind up putting himself in some extreme danger. He knew, but he figured what Draco did wasn't his problem.

Blaise never claimed to be a nice person, everyone just assumed he was.

Blaise watched the Malfoy boys with their parents. Blaise's best friend and Blaise's sex friend, no two boys could be as different as Harry and Draco. But they were alike in the sense that Blaise's selfishness meant he never wanted to let them go.

Harry had gotten tired on the train and had gone asleep, leaving Blaise to entertain himself. Fine by him, because Draco popped into their compartment a few minutes later looking for some fun.

"You're high out your mind," Blaise said conversationally as he and Draco made their way towards the back of the train. Draco's eyes were glossed over and his face had a faraway expression on it. This added to his obvious sexual arousal and his extra energy meant that Draco most likely had been mixing his drugs again.

"Is that a problem?" Draco asked shortly.

"Not at all," Blaise waved the situation off. Then his curiosity got the better of him. "What are you on?"

Draco shrugged as if it was no big deal. "Just some Little Brother and a bit of Cassiopeia."

And that would do it. Little Brother was a stimulus potion with a bit of an aphrodisiacal quality that that would explain the energy and arousal. Cassiopeia was a mild hallucinogenic potion that would explain the faraway look and glossy eyes, it also made him extra sensitive to touch. Right now, Draco was off in a different universe and hard as hell. A person on this combination of drugs was just begging to be taken advantage of. On the plus side, Draco was a Potions Prodigy and had chosen drugs that wouldn't have any adverse effects when taken together. The downside, both potions were extremely addictive.

But the damage Draco imposed on his own body was none of Blaise's concern.

He and Draco ended up in the luggage compartment since the rest of the train was full. Draco instantly pinned Blaise against the wall and claimed his mouth. The blond eagerly slipped his tongue passed Blaise's parted lips and tried to dominate the kiss. Blaise moaned, and let Draco believe he would be able to dominate for once. Blaise never bottomed, ever. He was not willing to give anyone that much control over him. Sometimes he'd let a lover dominate a kiss, humoring them like he was doing Draco right now, but when the clothes were gone and it was time for penetration, Blaise was in charge.

The drugs were making Draco's kisses sloppy. He was using too much tongue and pressure. Blaise could only be glad he hadn't thought to use teeth, but he really wasn't enjoying having his face licked as if by a dog. If Draco wanted to use his tongue, Blaise could give him something else to use it on. Snaking down a hand, he grabbed Draco's cock tightly, causing the blond to moan and throw his head back. Taking advantage of the opportunity, Blaise attacked the creamy white skin of Draco's neck. Draco practically came in his pants at that moment, because the drugs made him so sensitive to touch.

Blaise bit harshly on the skin under his lips, before pulling back. "Suck me," he ordered simply.

Draco moaned and quickly fell to his knees. He was clumsy trying to get Blaise's pants down, but soon enough Blaise was moaning at the feel of his cock being surrounded by Draco's hot mouth. His technique was a bit rough, Blaise could only assume that was another side-effect of the drugs since usually Draco was very talented with his mouth, but what he was lacking in skill Draco made up for in enthusiasm.

With half-lidded eyes, Blaise watched his cock being licked, nipped, and half swallowed by the Malfoy heir. Lucius would probably flip if he ever saw his son like this. Blaise moaned deep in his throat, because Draco was humming at tune that sounded suspiciously like Twinkle-Twinkle Little Star and the vibrations were driving him crazy.

After deciding he'd had enough of this, Blaise pulled Draco away from his cock by the hair and pushed the blond against wall of the train. Within seconds, Draco's pants were around his ankles and Blaise's cock was up his ass.

Blaise was happy to be back at Hogwarts. Summer holidays was nice and all, but he really disliked spending so much time with his mother and her latest consort. It really was too bad he couldn't spend his entire break with the Malfoys; that way he could have his best friend his sex friend within reach at all times. Unfortunately it was proper to spend such extended amounts of time at another's house, and he'd had to make do with his mother's company.

The school year started off slow, as it always did. Blaise passed the time between classes and homework goofing off with Harry and meeting up with Draco for quick trysts. Everything was so boring…

The Harry fainted in the Great Hall.

Blaise sat next to the bed where Harry sat in the hospital wing. Harry was holding tight to his hand even though Madam Pomfrey had said that it would be wiser for Blaise to leave so they could talk in private.

"He doesn't need to go," Harry had said back. "He would just find out later anyway. I have no secrets from Blaise."

"If you insist, Mr. Malfoy," Madam Pomfrey said when she realized Harry wasn't going to change his mind. Maybe she thought she could scare him into changing his mind with the next thing she said. "How long have you been sexual active, Mr. Malfoy?"

This caught Blaise completely off guard. Harry wasn't sexually active at all; he was the most virginal person Blaise knew, in fact, Blaise teased him about his virginity all the time. If Harry had given up his V-card, Blaise would know, because Harry never kept any secrets from him, never.

Harry turned bright red. "What?"

Blaise had the same thought.

"I don't see how that's relevant," Harry said once he'd gain more control over himself.

"I was simply asking as a way to segue into the matter at hand. Are you aware of the consequences of sexual activity? As a wizard, you have a less chance of contacting a sexually transmitted disease, but sexually active wizards have their own risks to worry about."

"Could you please get to the point?" Harry ordered.

Madam Pomfrey fixed a hard glare on her patient. "You're pregnant, Mr. Malfoy. I hope that's 'to the point' enough for you."

Harry's green eyes widened dramatically and all color drained from his face. At that moment, Blaise realized that nothing was going to be the same again.

Chapter Text

Narcissa Malfoy walked slowly through the halls of Hogwarts, following her husband towards the hospital wing. It was pure chance that she was here now, had she not been in the room when the Floo-call came through Lucius most likely would have left without her citing that anything to do with that boy was of no concern to her. But Narcissa had a feeling that this was the moment she'd been waiting for, so there was no way she was staying behind.

"…that's 'to the point' enough for you." Narcissa heard upon entering the hospital room. The look of pure devastation and fear that fell over the boy's face was enough to tell Narcissa that she had been right; this was the opportunity she'd been waiting for. This was going to be her chance to save that poor boy from Lucius' perversion…but only if he was willing to be saved.

"I have already contacted your parents, as school guidelines require."

"No!" the boy whimpered. "Don't tell Father. Please don't tell Father."

"Harry," Madam Pomfrey said.

At that moment Lucius decided to make his presence known. He cleared his throat and swept into the room with a flourish. Narcissa didn't even pay attention to what her husband was saying as she stood back by the door watching the boy on the bed. To say the child was distraught would be an understatement. He looked like a frightened toddler, cowering in front of Lucius' tall form.

"Father, please," the boy begged, his arms wrapping protectively around his lower abdomen. "Don't make me. Not again, please." Narcissa's interest was piqued. What could the boy possibly be talking about?

"Harry," Narcissa supposed that Lucius' tone could be one of warning, but it was completely lost on the near hysterical boy in the hospital bed.

"I'm older now," the boy said pleadingly. "I can handle it. Please don't make me. I want my baby. I want my baby. Our baby. Please. You love me don't you? You love me, so you won't make me go through that again. I want my baby."

"Harry," Lucius' voice came out low but it resonated in the completely silent hospital wing. Lucius reached out a hand to gently touch the boy's cheek. "You know that abortion is illegal, what—"

"That didn't stop you before!" the child screamed, throwing himself away from Lucius' touch. "I've already killed one baby for you! I'm not going through that again! And if you loved me like you said, you wouldn't try to make me."

"Harry," there was anger in Lucius voice now. Narcissa took this as her cue to interfere.

"Enough, Lucius," she said, striding into the room and taking a seat on the bed next to the terrified boy trembling in front of her husband. "You're frightening him." She turned to Harry. "Are you ready to talk now, child?"

The boy—Harry, her mind corrected—looked at her with lost, empty green eyes. "I love him," he said softly. "No one has ever loved me like he does."

Narcissa sighed, was her help going be denied again? Had she waited too long and lost this child forever?

"Harry," she said softly, pleadingly. She watched this child grow over the years. She'd seen him through nearly every phase of development. She might never have acted it, but this boy was a dear to her as her own son. She'd seen in the beginning that Lucius was bad for the boy, but at the time she had only felt bitter jealousy that a child—a male child at that—could win her husband over in a way she never could. But then, about two years prior, she had stumbled across the boy after Lucius had bedded him. In place of the boy she'd grown to hate, Narcissa had found a frightened, broken child. It had been at that point that she realized that Harry was suffering from Lucius affection, no reveling in it.

The surprise in Harry's eyes reminded her that she'd never called him by his name before. That had been because she hadn't wanted to associate her favorite cousin's godson with the boy that was seducing her husband. Narcissa was suddenly aware of how much she'd failed Sirius. "Harry," she said again, more to reassure herself than for anything else.

Harry's eyes peered into her as if searching for the answer to life's greatest question. Silence dragged between the two, and the rest of the people in the room ceased to exist for just a moment. Finally, Harry cast his eyes away and sighed. "I'll talk."

When Narcissa had been in school, she'd been quite popular with the boys, but she'd only had eyes for the beautiful Lucius Malfoy. She had been over the moon when Lucius had finally began to show equal interest in her near the end of her fifth year—Lucius had been two years older and she'd loved rubbing it in her friends faces that she'd hooked the hottest seventh year in the school. When Lucius proposed their marriage at the end of her seventh year, it never occurred to Narcissa that the boy she'd been dating for two years really wasn't at all who she'd thought he was. Even though a close friend of hers had warned her that Lucius was no good and just using her, Narcissa had been young, dumb, and in love.

When Lucius made his true feelings known after she'd given birth to Draco, Narcissa had turned to the same friend who warned her for comfort. She was, thankfully, not greeted by a smug "I told you so", but by open and reassuring arms.

Many people wondered why a handsome and successful man like Hugh Britman hadn't picked a witch from the many willingly throwing themselves at him and settled down already. Only Narcissa knew the truth. Hugh had been one of her closest friends back in school, and when Narcissa's marriage had fallen apart, Hugh had become her lover. Hugh was also one of the Wizarding world's best law wizards, and his brother, Walter, was an esteemed Auror.

After Harry agreed to talk, Narcissa had immediately borrowed Madam Pomfrey's fireplace to call Hugh, and fifteen minutes later he and Walter arrived at the Hospital Wing.

"Narcissa," Hugh greeted with a smile. "I was surprised to get your call, I'm sorry it took so long to arrive; Walter was a bit hard to find. How may we be of service of you today? I can infer that this is not a social call."

"Unfortunately, it is not," Narcissa said with a welcoming smile towards her long-time lover and friend. "We will like to press charges against dear husband, Lucius."

"What kind of charges?" Hugh asked. His eyes said that he as delighted; he'd been looking for a reason to persecute Lucius for the longest time now.

"What do you think, Harry?" Narcissa asked. "Child molestation, illegal termination of a pregnancy, and rape?"

"I never raped anyone!" Lucius declared.

"Good to see you don't deny any of the other claims," Narcissa mused. "But Harry was underage when you started your little affair with him. That's called Statutory."

"Harry," Lucius said, "You really don't want to do this."

Narcissa felt a bit of pride build up inside her when Harry met Lucius' eyes for the first time without fear and with all his sanity intact. "I'm sorry, Father, but you always told me to finish things I start and to keep my word. I said I was ready to talk, so I'm going to talk."

"You little—"Lucius growled, reaching for his wand.

"Careful, Lucius, we don't want to add child abuse and threats to the charges, do we?"

Lucius glared at all the occupants of the room. "You'll be hearing from my lawyers."

Narcissa, Harry, and Harry's little Zabini friend were sitting in Hugh's office waiting for Walter to finish talking to his superiors at the Ministry. Walter had only come to Hogwarts as a favor to Narcissa and hadn't had an official sanction to be present and take over the case. His presence at the school was really only to scare Lucius, but now they had to take official channels to make sure all that had been said weren't just idle threats to Lucius' character.

"Ok," Walter said as he entered the room. "I've been given permission to take Harry's statement and my partner and I are officially in charge of this case. Right now, my partner is on the way to pick up Mr. Malfoy and transport him to a holding cell; you'll most likely be meeting him later. Now, Harry, I'm going to ask you some questions and you'll have to answer honestly. Since you're making accusations against a man of status, you are obligated to take Veritaserum in order to assure these are not baseless accusations. Since you are a minor, you are allowed to have a parent present. As Narcissa Malfoy is legally considered to be your mother, she shall be present for these proceedings unless you have objections to that."

Harry shook his head. "I only request that you allow Blaise to be present." Walter looked as if he had an objection to that, but Hugh entered the room at that moment.

"I'll be acting as Mr. Malfoy the younger's Law-Wizard and I believe that it would be for the best to allow Mr. Zabini present for emotional support." Walter took Hugh's words for what they were, an order to disregard the rules this once.

"Right," Walter said. "Open your mouth for the administering of the Veritaserum, please." Harry obeyed without complaint. "We shall start with some basic questions. What is your name?"

"Harry James Malfoy."

"What was your name at the time of your birth?"

"Harry James Potter."

"At what point was your surname changed to Malfoy and under what circumstances?"

"When I was four years old, I was adopted by the Malfoy family due to the mistreatment I received at the hands of my former guardians."

Walter made a note on the parchment that he was recording the conversation on, before moving on to his next question. "Mr. Malfoy, you are pressing charges against your adopted father, Lucius Malfoy, for child molestation, illegal termination of a pregnancy, and statutory rape is that correct?"

"Yes."

"Can you tell me how you came to decision?"

"I… I think it would be best for me to just tell you the complete story of my childhood with the Malfoys."

Walter nodded. "Would you mind if I switched to a Quick Quote Quill?" Harry had no objections. "Mr. Malfoy, could you tell us at what point in your childhood the molestation started."

Harry's eyes fell closed, and Narcissa was almost afraid he was going to back out how long he remained silent. "When Father adopted me, at four years old, he was always affectionate towards me. At that point, there was no actual touching involved, but he called me affectionate names and constantly told me he loved me. The child I was at the time was starved for love and attention. Thinking back now, it's obvious he was only trying to win me over.

"A few months after moving in with the Malfoys, I turned five years old. Around that time, Father started coming in when I was in the bath. He said that I didn't know how to clean myself properly, so he was going to help me. Around the time I was six he started kissing me, at first on the cheeks, forehead, hands, and such. Soon it was on my lips. It was around this time he started taking me on trips with him as well. He didn't start kissing with tongue until around the time I turned seven. It was at this time he started instructing me in how to touch myself while he watched. When I was eight, he started touching me himself and had me touch him in return."

"Why weren't you resistant to any of this?" Walter asked.

"I didn't know any better. He told me that all this was how people showed they loved each other. No one had ever loved me before, so I didn't know it was wrong."

"Why didn't you tell anyone?"

"Who would I tell? Narcissa made it no secret that she didn't like me. Draco and Blaise were just children. Father was all I had. Besides, I had no reason to want to tell. He was loving me, what was wrong with that?"

"Continue with your story."

"I was eight the first time he performed oral sex on me. When I was nine, he had me return the favor. Nine years old was also when the penetration first started. Just his fingers at first, then different toys. He didn't actually enter me until I was ten."

"And you still thought this was a way of expressing love? It didn't seem wrong to you at all?"

"He never actually raped me in the traditional sense of the word since I was always a willing participant, but I guess sex with a ten year old is rape no matter how you look at it. Still, all I ever wanted was to be loved. And he loved me, what was wrong with that?"

"At what point did you realize that things weren't right between you two? And what cued you off?"

"Shortly after my eleventh birthday, I fell ill. Father realized I was pregnant and took me to Germany where he had the pregnancy terminated. He told me that I was too young to have a baby and that a baby would ruin everything. As I was growing up, he'd always told me that no one could know how much we loved each other or they would get jealous and force us apart. He said a baby would cause everyone to know and force us a part. I didn't want that, because there was no one else who could love me like Father could. But I still wanted my baby. I told him I wanted my baby more than anything else. He yelled at me. He said I was being selfish. He said I was acting like a child. In the end, he drugged me so that I was complacent enough to have the abortion done. Then he took me to bed and had sex with me that same night. That was when I realized it was wrong."

"Why didn't you tell someone then?"

"Because, by that point, I was already in too deep. I was ashamed of myself."

"Why were you ashamed?"

"Because I loved him—still love him."

"You were a victim, Harry!" Blaise said. "You have nothing to be ashamed of. He brainwashed you; played you for a fool.

"Don't say that!" Harry yelled back. "All I wanted was to be loved, and he does. He loves me. That's what I thought. And part still hopes that he does."

"Narcissa, at what point did you become aware of the situation?"

"Honestly, I think I always knew. Part of me wanted to think the best of my husband. Part of me was jealous that a child could steal my husband from me. Yet, another part of me was just glad he wasn't going after my son. All those parts of me teamed up together and decided turn a blind eye to the situation. I'll be the first to admit that I was acted like a selfish, cold-hearted bitch, but that was what I thought was best at the time. It wasn't until about two years ago did I decide to do something."

"What happened two years ago?"

Narcissa looked sadly at the boy who was a victim to her inaction as much as a victim to Lucius' actions. "I saw Harry after he'd been bedded by Lucius. His mental state at the time… I just couldn't ignore it anymore."

"I don't understand," Harry said with his brow wrinkled in confusion.

"I figured you wouldn't remember," Narcissa stated. "I don't know if it's always been this way, but after sex with Lucius you mentally regress to the age of a four year old at best."

"Do you think this has something to do with the traumatic affect the forced abortion had on his psyche?" Hugh asked.

Walter sighed and ran a hand across his face. "I think we should add psychological abuse to the charges," he finally said.

"But that could work against us if Harry is given a psych evaluation. Lucius would just have to bribe the right officials to get Harry ruled unfit to stand trial."

"Can he do that? Harry is the victim here; he's not the one of trial."

"Unfortunately, mental abuse charges calls into questing the credibility of the victim. It has precedence."

Silence fell over the room, only to be interrupted by an owl pecking at the window. Hugh stood and let the bird in.

"It's for you, Narcissa, from Hogwarts."

Narcissa nodded and took the letter from her lover. When she read the words on the parchment her heart nearly stopped beating in her chest. How could this be?

"Draco just got sent to St. Mungos on a drug overdose."

Chapter Text

Draco had known when he was doing it that mixing his drugs was a bad idea. Some drugs were ok to be mixed, like Little Brother and Cassiopeia; some drugs were more than a little dangerous when mixed: you never ever mixed Cassiopeia with Hailstorm, especially if you'd taken Little Brother within the last thirty-six hours. So, Draco had known he was doing something stupid when he was doing it, but that hadn't stopped him. The toad sweat in the Cassiopeia had mixed with the Rune spore venom in the Hailstorm and caused his lungs to become inflamed. The faint traces of willow bark left over from the Little Brother he'd taken two days prior reacted badly with the Cornish Pixie wings in the Hailstorm and caused his heart rate to drop drastically. The other side-effect of the three drugs was the draining effect on his magical core—that was life threatening by itself.

There was a reason most addicts only used one or two drugs, the more chemicals in your body, the better chance of having a bad reaction. But Draco was a potions prodigy. He knew what was safe to mix and when it was safe to mix them. Draco had tried a total of sixteen different drugs, of them he took five on a regular basis. He'd never even come close to overdosing before. Until now that is.

He could have died; he knew that. But he needed his drugs. He wasn't one of those fools that claimed they weren't addicted and could stop at any time. He was addicted. He needed the high that only his drugs could bring. It brought excitement to his life. It made each day worth waking up in the morning. It helped him forget. It helped him pretend.

At least he was a functional addict and not one of those idiots so sprung out all they could think about was their next fix. On a good day, no one could even tell that Draco was using. Only Blaise could tell, really. But Draco always did allow Blaise to see parts of him that no one else could.

Draco had been in love with Blaise Zabini since he was six years old. Of course a six year old didn't know much about love, and at the time all Draco knew was that he would do anything to win Blaise's favor and he hated if Blaise gave attention to anyone but him. It wasn't until he was fourteen that he realized that these feelings that hadn't faded in eight years were love. Draco knew Blaise would never love him back. Why would Blaise waste time on Draco when he had dear sweet Harry? Harry ruined everything. He took away everyone important to Draco. Draco hated him. How could that whore be more important than Draco? How could Draco's father love him more than his own son?

One of the reasons Draco had first started using was seeing his family structure fall apart. He knew his father was cheating on his mother, he just didn't know with whom. He knew his mother really loved his father, but she was having an affair as well just to sate the needs Lucius wouldn't take care of. They rarely spoke to each other, and when they did they were usually fighting. It was just a matter of time until they finally got a divorce, and when that happened Draco would likely never see his father again because there was no doubt in Draco's mind Lucius was going to choose Harry over him.

Another reason Draco had started using was because nothing he did could win his father's love. Draco was always trying to please his father. He wanted nothing more than to be someone Lucius was proud to call son. So, Draco worked his butt off to become top of his class. He gave up childish behaviors and attitudes. He followed every direction given to him. He strove to be the best, and many people said he was the best. Yet Lucius didn't notice all the great Draco did, because Lucius only cared about his precious Harry. Next to Harry, Draco might as well have not existed at all.

Another reason Draco started using was because he couldn't win Blaise's love. It hadn't been too hard to entice Blaise into his bed, but having Blaise's body wasn't enough. He wanted Blaise's heart. But for Blaise, Draco was only a means of releasing sexual frustration. Draco wasn't worthy of love, especially since Blaise had his eyes on someone else.

The other reason Draco had started using was because Harry Bloody Potter—Draco had never considered him Malfoy—was the cause of all the above.

The reason Draco had tried to overdose himself was purely selfish—but then again, suicide was one of the most selfish acts in the world. Mostly Draco did it because he was depressed. He had wanted attention as well. Part of his reason was to get back at Blaise for not loving him.

Draco was pregnant. He was about four months along and the father was Blaise Zabini. Of course Blaise hadn't known Draco was pregnant, no one had known. His mother had taken him to get tested over the summer when he'd gone to her with his fears. He'd sent her out of the room when the Healer gave him his results, then he told her everything was fine. Narcissa had assumed that fine meant he wasn't pregnant, because they had two different definitions of fine.

Concealing the pregnancy was easy since a baby growing in a magical womb affected your magic more than your body. Blaise assumed Draco's inability to control his magic was due to the drugs. Some drugs did affect your magic. Those were the drugs Draco had chosen to take for his overdose. If things worked as plan, Draco would survive the overdose, but the baby wouldn't. In the end, he would make his father worry and pay attention to him, and he would have revenge against Blaise for choosing Harry over him.

With that plan firmly in mind, Draco threw back his potions, and got ready to take the trip of a lifetime.

His mind was foggy and this mouth felt as if it was stuffed with cotton balls. His eyes were too heavy to open and all the sounds around him were muted as if he was listening from under water. Try as he might, he couldn't figure out where he was or how he'd gotten there.

"Mr. Malfoy," an unfamiliar voice said, "are you awake?"

He couldn't speak, and it hurt just to move. Still, he tried to answer the question. He only managed to let out an unintelligible grunting noise.

"No need to speak," the same voice said. "You're in a right condition at the moment."

Another unintelligible noise. He wasn't sure what he'd been trying to say, because his mind was too foggy to form coherent thoughts.

"You're in St. Mungos," the voice said, as if interpreting his noise as a question. "Drug overdose." The voice added. "You've been here about a week now. Your body is going through the detoxification process. We can't give you anything to make it easier or we'll risking harming your baby. You're lucky you were found when you were or the baby would have died and you'd be heading to Azkaban. As it is right now, you're probably going to be put on trial anyway, but at least there won't be any murder charges."

Draco grunted again.

"I'm just a humble medi-witch looking after a patient. It's not my job to form opinions. And, personally, I believe no one could ever willingly harm their own child. I guess you could say I'm on your side, but as I said it's not my job to form opinions. You should go back to sleep, Mr. Malfoy. You're in for a long stay."

The next time he woke up, Draco blinked his eyes and groaned in pain, before rolling over and burrowing back under the covers. His old body ached and the bright light in the stark white room was torture on his eyes. He groaned again, it hurt just to breathe.

"Draco, honey," he recognized his mother's voice and was surprised to hear such concern in it. Usually Narcissa was better at concealing her emotions.

"Hurts," Draco mumbled.

"What did you expect?" Narcissa snapped back. "You nearly died. They couldn't give you any pain potions because you're still detoxing off those drugs. And that's another thing! When did you start using drugs? I expected better from you, Draco."

Draco wanted to roll his eyes, but just the thought of that hurt. "Don't wanna hear it," he mumbled. "It's my life."

"What about the life of your unborn child?" Narcissa snapped. "You're free to end you own life whenever you want, but that child is an innocent! What were you thinking?"

"I wasn't thinking." Draco sat up and met his mother's eyes. "Or I was only thinking of myself. I don't want a child and Blaise doesn't deserve one!"

Narcissa looked as if she wanted to hit him at that moment, but Draco knew she would never raise a hand against him. "I did not raise you to be this selfish," she stated coldly.

"You're right. You didn't raise me to be selfish, my bastard of a father did."

"Was this some kind of petty revenge scheme against, Lucius?"

"It wasn't petty and it wasn't about Father!"

"Then what was it about? What could possibly bring you to purposely overdosing? What could bring you to purposely try to end the life of an innocent?"

"It's none of your business!" Draco snapped, glaring at his mother hotly. This had nothing to do with her. Narcissa was a good mother. She loved him and was there for him. She'd never done anything wrong. This was about his father. This was about Blaise. This was about Harry Bloody Potter.

But Draco no longer had the strength to argue with his mother, and he really didn't feel like explaining himself to her. He was too tired. He just wanted to sleep some more.

Draco groaned as he made the journey back to wakefulness. He was still in the hospital. His body was still in pain. Damn. Sucks to suck.

"You're awake," someone said.

Draco turned to the doorway in surprise. When had he gotten here? "Blaise?"

"Did you know about?"

"Know what?" Draco asked, already knowing the answer.

"That you're pregnant."

Draco stared at him defiantly. "Yeah, I knew.

"Is it mine?"

"Who else's would it be? Contrary popular belief, I'm not some slut that would sleep with anything with two legs and a cock. I've never been with anyone but you."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"It was none of your business."

"I think the life of my unborn child is my business!"

"You don't deserve a child!" Draco snapped. "And if you want one so bad, then go fuck Harry like I know you always wanted to. You love him more than me anyway."

"Hell yeah I love him more than you. I love everyone more than you right now, Draco. How the fuck could you be so damn selfish! If my child had died—"Blaise didn't finish the sentence. The look of complete devastation on Blaise's face made Draco, for the first time, question the wisdom behind his actions. Maybe he should have thought this through a bit more. He'd wanted to hurt Blaise, but not this much.

"I… I'm sorry," Draco looked pleadingly at Blaise. Surely this wouldn't push him beyond the point of forgiveness. Blaise didn't want a child anyway; he enjoyed his free lifestyle too much. Surely Draco wouldn't be blamed for this.

"Sorry is not going to cut it, Draco," Blaise said.

"But it lived, didn't it? No harm done."

"Yeah, it lived; no thanks to you. Be grateful that the baby latched onto enough of your magic not drained by the drugs to keep itself alive," Blaise said. "If it had died you would be facing five years, minimum, in Azkaban for the death of an innocent. You probably would have been sharing a cell with your father. You'd finally have that attention you wanted so much."

"Father is in Azkaban?" Draco asked, surprised. When had this happened?

"Harry pressed charges against him for sexual harassment, statutory rape, and unlawful termination of a pregnancy," Blaise added venom to the last words and Draco couldn't pretend not to hear the accusatory tone.

"Harry," Draco growled. Harry ruined everything! He'd destroyed Draco's family. They had been happy before Harry came along! They had been so happy…

"No worries," Blaise said sadly. "Harry's gone. He disappeared the day before he was supposed to testify against Lucius. The only reason your father was even convicted was because Harry had already told his story under the effects of Veritaserum. And even then, he was only sentenced to five years because of the illegal abortion. Since Harry wasn't at the trail, all the other charges were dropped."

"Where did he go?"

"Who knows. He probably thought anywhere would be better than here."

"Good," Draco said. "I hate him. He ruined everything."

"You're a real selfish bitch, you know that." Blaise turned and left the room.

Chapter Text

Lucien knew he wasn't supposed to answer the door without an adult present, and he'd respected that rule when he was younger, but he was twelve years old now and didn't like his dad treating him like a child. So when the doorbell rang for the third time and his father still hadn't gotten out of the shower to answer it, Lucien figured there was no reason why he couldn't do it—no one ever stop to visit but old Mrs. Mary from across the street anyway.

But the tall black man standing on the front porch when Lucien opened the door was most definitely not Mrs. Mary. Lucien looked the man over; he was tall, taller than Lucien but that wasn't saying much since Lucien had inherited his height—or lack thereof—from his dad. But even by normal standards this man was tall; he was easily over six feet and then some. His looks were quite striking, all sharp angles and masculine charm. Next to the man was a boy about Lucien's age whose coloring declared him to be a mutt: café au lait skin, hazel eyes, thick curly brown hair. He was obviously the tall black man's son, but his other parent was most definitely white.

"Hello," the man said with a too white smile, he had to be a wizard Lucien noted. Only wizards could get their teeth that white without them turning translucent and brittle. "I'm looking for Harry Potter, is he here?"

Lucien looked at the man skeptically. How rude to start demanding information without properly introducing himself first. Some people had no manners, and Lucien didn't have the patience for those people. He briefly considered putting his scant amount of French speaking skills to use and pretending that he didn't know English just to bother these rude guests. But with the luck Lucien had, they were probably fluent in six languages including French. For the first time, Lucien noted that the man had spoken in a British accent. This was an accent he was familiar with from his early childhood, before his dad had finally learned to speak American.

"Who are you?" Lucien asked, deciding he could be just as rude as these people.

"I'm sorry, forgot to introduce myself. My name is Blaise Zabini, and this is my son Cassius."

"Lucien," a voice called from inside the house. "Who are you talking to?"

"We have visitors," Lucien called to his dad, hoping he wouldn't get in trouble for answering the door without permission.

"What have I told you about answering the door," Harry Potter chastised. Yeah, Lucien had the worst luck. "Who is it?" His dad asked, coming up beside Lucien and looking at the guests still standing on the porch. "Blaise?"

Lucien had never seen a look such as this on his dad's face. He looked surprised, both happy and sad. There was a bit of longing and some regret. Lucien had always thought he'd was good a reading emotions, especially his dad's emotions, but even he couldn't understand all the conflicting feelings these guests brought with them.

"Harry, it's been too long," the man who introduced himself as Blaise Zabini said.

"What are you doing here?" Harry asked, finally managing to conceal his emotions.

"Looking for you of course. Aren't you going to invite us in?"

Harry blushed. "Sorry, you just caught me a bit off guard. Do come in. Have a seat. Can I get you anything?"

"Only your hand in marriage." Lucien looked surprised at the man. Who was he to show up out of nowhere and propose to Lucien's dad? Who was this man anyway?

Lucien opened his mouth to make his opinion known, but his dad spoke first. "Oh. I'd simply be delighted to accept, but what would my wife Jane Austen say?" Now Lucien was confused. His dad wasn't married, and if he was if definitely would not be to someone like Jane Austen. From what Lucien understood of his father's life, Jane Austen was the wrong gender for him even if she wasn't dead.

"Husbands and wives generally understand when opposition will be vain."*

Lucien's dad stared at his unexpected visitor in silence, before a large smile spread across both their faces and they pulled each other into arms. "You haven't changed at all, Blaise."

"Of course I haven't, and neither have you."

"I've missed you so much. Who is this?" It seemed his dad had just noticed that Blaise wasn't alone.

"This is my son, Cassius. Cash, this is Harry Potter; I've told you about him."

Cassius Zabini smiled and extended his hand for Harry to take. "It's nice to finally meet you, Mr. Potter. Dad told me a lot about you."

Lucien's dad took the extended hand and shook it. "Just Harry, please. And this is my son, Lucien."

Lucien smiled politely, but made no effort to properly greet the guests, not that it mattered since the two older men were once again lost in their own world.

"How did you find me?" Lucien's dad asked.

"It wasn't easy, I'll tell you that. When you want to be hidden, you're impossible to find. Honest, I've been searching ever since you left."

"That was nearly thirteen years ago!" Harry said in disbelief. "You couldn't have been looking the whole time."

"I was. Life was a lot less fun after you left, a lot less happy too."

"What's been going on with everyone?"

Mr. Zabini sighed and leaned back in his seat. "There's really not much to say. When you left, most of the charges against him were dropped." Lucien wondered who 'him' was, but his father seemed to understand just fine. "He got five years for the abortion, and then he was released without so much as a smear on his name. Narcissa wised up and filed for divorce; she's married to Hugh Britman now. Draco—Draco unfortunately is not with us anymore. He's Cassius' other parent. He went to rehab after everything that happened. He stayed clean for a long time. When Cash was born, we decided to try a real relationship. We dated for a while and I fell in love with him. We were married for three years, until he relapsed and died of an overdose. With him, I lost my second child. That was about five years ago."

"I'm sorry. I had nothing but the greatest respect for Draco. I loved him nearly as much as I loved Lucius, just not in the same way. But, even back then, I knew he was yours."

"Even when I claimed I didn't believe in love?"

"Even then."

Mr. Zabini smiled, and Lucien's dad smiled back.

"You know I couldn't stay there, right?" Harry said pleadingly. "It was too much. I was too confused. I—I just couldn't stay."

"Harry, no one blames you for leaving. You had every right to go. I'm only upset that you didn't say goodbye."

"How did you find me?"

"Funny story, actually. About a week ago, Lucius called me to the manor. I hadn't been there since Draco's funeral. I was hesitant to hear him out, but I did in the end. I'm not going to repeat everything he said, but by the end I kind of forgave him for everything I spent the last twelve years hating him for. He told me where to start looking for you. Even though you started going by the name Potter again, you're still a Malfoy. As head of the family, Lucius could find any Malfoy anywhere in the world at any time."

"You mean, all these years?"

"He's known where you were, but it appeased his guilty conscience to let you go. He wanted me to tell you, that if you ever decided to come back or if anything ever happens to him Lucien would be his heir."

"I can't go back. Lucien's and my entire lives are here. Lucien goes a Wizarding public school, so he's home every day; I've joined a theatre troupe; there's nothing left for me over there."

"I knew you were going to say that," Mr. Zabini smiled. "I'm just glad that I found you."

"I'm glad that you found me as well; I've missed you terribly, but—"

"I'm part of the past you left behind. My being here just brings up too many memories."

"It's not you, Blaise, it's just—"

"Don't worry, I understand. Cassius and I were just popping in for a quick visit. I just wanted to see if you were ok and if you're happy."

Lucien watched his father smile in a way he'd only ever seen him do before after he pulled off a great theater performance. "Yeah, I'm happy." And for an instant, despite all the things he'd seen over the years that said otherwise, Lucien believed him.

Chapter Text

Harry watched Blaise and his son walk down the front path and out of his life forever. It had hurt seeing his old friend again. Blaise's visit had brought with it too many memories that Harry had worked too hard to get rid of. Just seeing Blaise had made Harry feel like the little bot he'd been, a seemingly lifetime ago, totally naïve and starving for love.

Sometimes, late at night after he sent Lucien to bed, Harry allowed himself to dwell on his memories. He wondered if running away had been the wisest choice. At the time, he'd thought it was. He'd spent too many year complete under Lucius' control to turn against him. He'd known there was no way he'd be able to stand trial. Lucius had shaped him from the very first time they'd met to be someone completely dependent on him and vulnerable to his control. Harry had convinced himself that if Lucius didn't love him, no one would. He hadn't been prepared to turn his back on the man he called father, but he wasn't willing to give up part of himself and stay under the man's control.

So, he'd run away.

He'd chosen to go to the States because there wasn't so many memories tied to the place. Lucius had taken Harry on numerous trips across Europe and Asia, but only once had they ever gone to America and even then it had just been a quick stop on the way to Canada. It had been hard getting there, and harder still settling down. He'd found a house fairly quickly in a Wizarding community, but when it came to building a life, Harry was only a helpless child.

He was afraid of people. He felt vulnerable being on his own, but he feared someone would take advantage of the broken state Lucius had left him in. But eventually, shortly before his son had been born, Harry realized that closing himself off to the world was just another way of letting Lucius control his life. Running away had been an attempt to gain control back, yet still even this far away Lucius reigned supreme.

Harry had resolved to no longer live in fear and to lead a normal life, but in order to do that he needed help.

Harry had started seeing a psychologist, or at least the wizarding equivalent of one. It had been a long bumpy road, but eventually Harry had gotten better. It was the birth of Lucien and the desire to be a good father for him that had given Harry the extra drive to remake himself into a better person. Still, Lucien had been six years old before Harry reached a point where he no longer needed to see a shrink.

But despite all the work he'd put into it, Harry was never going to lead a completely normal life. He no longer fear people, but he feared sex, he feared love, and he feared intimacy. He feared giving someone enough of himself to have absolute control over him. Even Lucien, his son, his world, all he had left to hold on to, did not have enough of him to hurt.

He'd told Blaise that he was happy. That wasn't a complete lie. Sometimes he was happy, but most of the time he just wanted to curl up and cry. He tried to keep a happy face for Lucien's sake, but his son wasn't an idiot and he was Lucius' son, he could see through any mask Harry thought to wear.

Sometimes life hurt too much. Sometimes he didn't want to go on. But he still rose each day and put on a smiling face. For Lucien's sake. Only for Lucien did Harry wake up in the morning. Only for his so did he continue with his tried and tired life. Because he was all Lucien had, and he didn't want to leave his son all alone.

Blaise and Cassius disappeared down the street, and Harry wished they thought to take with them the pain they'd left behind for him.

Blaise waved goodbye to his son until the scarlet colored Hogwarts Express disappeared from sight. Blaise's plastered on smile fell from his face, as he turned and left the platform. Cassius was off to his fourth year at school, and Blaise was headed back to their empty house. It was hard to believe his son was already fourteen years old when just yesterday he'd been nothing more than a small baby being held in Draco's arms. Sometimes it was hard to believe Draco was gone.

Blaise remembered back when he'd first learned Draco was pregnant with his child. He'd walked out of the hospital thinking he was going to hate Draco forever. Draco had been so bitter and selfish back then. He hadn't deserved anything but hate. But, a few weeks later Blaise had received the first of many letters he would receive from Draco. In the letter Draco had said he'd checked into drug rehab and that the healers had said their baby would be perfectly healthy as long as Draco didn't do something so incredibly stupid again. Draco had still been angry at the world back then, so he'd ended the letter there. Over the next few months, though, Blaise had received a letter from Draco every week, sometimes more often than that. Through these letters, Blaise had followed Draco's healing process: both his drug rehabilitation and the mental healing he was doing.

Blaise had never replied to any of the letters, but it seemed Draco didn't need him to. The blond seemed to be treating the letters to Blaise like one would treat a diary. Eventually, Draco had written a letter that had apologized for everything he'd ever done or said. That letter had been hard to read for two reasons: the ink had been smudged with the tears Draco had shed while writing it and the words had revealed so much of Draco's soul and was filled with such raw emotion that Blaise had gotten choked up just reading them.

Blaise had written a reply to that letter. His reply had been short, but had given Draco just what he'd needed: absolution.

Draco was released from rehab three months before Cassius was born. Blaise didn't see Draco at all during those three months, but he did continue to receive letters.

Then one day, Blaise was pulled out of bed by Narcissa Malfoy dragged to St. Mungos with no explanation other than to hurry. That day, Draco had given him the greatest gift in the world: his son. When left alone together, Blaise and Draco had started talking and that's how they'd ended up giving the relationship thing a try.

Blaise had loved Draco in a way he'd never thought possible, and it had hurt him deeply when Draco had died. Most of the hurt had initially stemmed from him blaming himself for Draco's death. They'd been fighting the night Draco died. Blaise had said some things that he regretted, Draco had stormed out of the house, and Blaise had been too stubborn to go after him. It had never occurred to him that his words could hurt Draco so much, until he got the Floo call from St. Mungos saying that Draco had been brought in on a drug overdose and that he hadn't made it.

That had been seven years ago and Blaise still missed Draco every day, but he didn't have time to dwell on his loss because he'd had a seven year old son that all but demanded he got on with his life. The only time Blaise had allowed himself to live in the past had been that visit to Harry two years ago. After that, Blaise had resolved to do nothing but move forward instead of stopping to look back every few feet. That had been in no way an easy feat, but Blaise was stubborn and he did what he had to do.

And he was happy. He'd had a great childhood with the best friend person could ask for. He'd had a few years with the love of his life. He had the most amazing son in the world. What reason did he have not to be happy? Blaise refused to see the downside of life. The way he saw, he had enough blessings to light up the night sky.

Lucius Malfoy held no delusions that he'd been a good father or husband, be he had tried his best. It was just as well that everyone he'd called family had left him in the end, because his very existence was poison to any happiness that tried to grow near him. Sure, he'd been bitter about losing his wife, he resented Draco's giving up the Malfoy name with his marriage, and he'd hated Harry's flee from his control, but he knew that it was all for the better.

After five years spent in Azkaban, Lucius had returned to a Malfoy Manor occupied by nothing but house elves. And there he had lived on his days in his lonesome. Years spent with nothing but his worst memories had taught him that he'd become the very person he'd vowed never to be: his own father. Yet, Lucius refused to blame his treatment of his family on his shitty childhood. No, a real man accepted himself with all his faults—he hid those faults from the rest of the world, but he accepted them nonetheless.

Still, Lucius liked to think he redeemed himself a little with his release of Harry and his son. He could have gone after them, and he had no doubts that Harry would fall right back under his control, but he had let them go. He thought that said something about the man he'd grew to be.

But life in the Manor was lonely and Lucius missed his family. With Narcissa remarried with three children, Draco dead, and Harry half way across the world, there was no one left for Lucius to love. No one ever came to see his bitter old self and he had no one he wished to see. Anyone who had ever meant anything to him was no beyond his reach.

So, imagine Lucius surprise when one early June day there came a knock at his door. Jinx the house elf found him in his study and told him that he had a guest. The young man waiting in the entrance hall couldn't have been more than twenty years of age, but his eyes spoke of having seen sights beyond his years. His height wasn't much at just below six feet, but he carried himself in a way that made his presence seem looming. His pale blond hair was cut around his ears and his clothing spoke of humble beginnings.

Even though Lucius had never met this boy before, he knew exactly who he was. Perhaps his recognition showed on his face, because the boy introduced himself in a way that said it did.

"My name is Lucien," he said. "He named me after you."

"How is he doing these days?" Lucius ask, gesturing for the boy to follow him. He led him to the parlor and directed him to take a seat.

"As well as can been expected with the scars he still carry from childhood. I must say, when you stake your claim on a person you never quite let them go."

"That had been the goal at the time," Lucius admitted. "But I thought with the amount of years that passed…"

"It didn't help that I so resembled you," Lucien said. "The older I got, the more he slipped into the past. And whenever I tried to change my appearance, dye more hair or the like, it filled him with enough fury to overcome his grief. We both hated that he needed you so much."

"Then why did he not return?"

"He'd hoped to protect me from you. Which is why he'd flip if he knew I was here. Still, I had to come, if only to know why my dad spends his days pretending to be someone else."

"Excuse me if I offend," Lucius said, "but you say he wanted to protect you from me. Who was there to protect you from him?"

The boy smiled sadly and spoke as a child many years his junior. "How does it feel to know the you ruined two generations of Potter men?"