Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

A Different Kind of Hero	By : JunjouSlashGirl Category: Harry Potter > Threesomes/Moresomes Views: 53263 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 10
Disclaimer: Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or any of the characters. All rights belong to J. K. Rowling. I do not earn any money with this story.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
- 3
Chapter 2: Muggle London
HP
Harry stood in the grocery store, eyeing the tins and contemplating whether he should really cook for a man every day who does not appreciate it anyway. The way to the store had been long and torturous, with Lucius muttering darkly the whole time. Harry had heard enough of his spiteful words to last him a lifetime. Every time the Malfoy patriarch had seen a garbage bin, he had hissed filthy and the small but neat and often beautiful front gardens were called pitiful by him.
Harry really wanted to know, how the Lord of the Noble Malfoy Family succeeded to have an air of superiority around him, even as a captive in a small muggle town, where he would have surely died soon of starvation without Harry's help. Harry felt totally small and unimportant next to him, even though he knew that he was not. All the way to their destination, women and men alike had followed the tall man with their eyes, whilst giving Harry nasty looks, as if they wanted to tell him that a scrawny boy like him, should not be seen next to a gorgeous man like Lucius Malfoy.
He glanced over to Malfoy and had to admit that the people had been right in one point: Lucius Malfoy was gorgeous. It was really unfair, that an evil bastard like him should have such beautiful looks. His legs were long and powerful, his waist slim and his shoulders broad. His button-down shirt and the tight black trousers hugged his slim but muscled frame perfectly and left absolutely nothing to the imagination and instead of starting to look old, like a man in his early thirties usually did, his age gave only the impression of maturity and wisdom. On top of that all his extraordinary white-blond hair, which reflected the sunlight with every movement and made the man seem as if he had a halo around his head and his piercing silvery eyes. Harry could understand why women would run after a man like him; he looked like an exotic model.
But Lucius Malfoy was still an evil bastard with a sick mind and no looks could ever outweigh this fact.
“What are these?” Lucius sneered and pointed at a tin.
“Cooked food in tins... you just have to heat it up and eat it,” Harry explained.
“You will not buy even one of them. I will not eat food, which was cooked Merlin knows how many days ago. Muggles cannot do charms to prevent it from wasting, I will not risk my health by eating something like this,” the man commanded and Harry sighed heavily. He should have known that he would not get away from cooking. Lucius was too stuck up and spoiled to eat fast food.
“It is perfectly edible. Muggles use vacuum to make their food long lasting,” Harry tried to explain, but with no success.
“This does not sound like a safe method. You will cook, at least for me, feel free to eat this long lasting food yourself, go on and poison yourself but do not endanger me!” Lucius huffed and went in the direction of the vegetables.
Harry followed him quickly suppressing the urge to roll his eyes yet again; he did not trust Lucius Malfoy to behave inconspicuously in a muggle store.
“What would you like to eat then?” Harry made the mistake of asking.
“I would appreciate oysters for dinner,” the aristocrat drawled.
Harry gave him an amused look and started to drop some vegetables he would need for a chicken soup with noodles in his trolley and walked over to the meat section. Eyeing the iced meat, he wondered how much he should buy for Nagini; he didn't suppose that he would find a small cow in this store.
“Do you know, how often Voldemort fed Nagini and how much?” he asked, turning to Lucius.
Lucius looked, as if he wouldn't answer him, but then said neutrally: “She normally got one prisoner per week, but sometimes he gave her two or even three, then she only had to eat after two weeks again,”
Harry wanted to cringe at the fact that Voldemort had fed her with humans, but restrained himself, he didn't want to look disgusted or even weak in front of Voldemort’s right-hand man.
Sighing, he fetched a couple of rabbits, chickens, ducks, and beef steaks from the freezer and put it with the vegetables. Nagini really was an expensive pet, maybe he should take her to the next meadow with sheep or cows instead of buying rabbits and chickens; she would surely like to hunt again after all these years in Voldemort’s captivity. But he would bring her this food first, because he had promised to feed her soon and he would not have time to accompany her until tomorrow night. This night they had to bury his late relatives.
“Where are my oysters?” Lucius pulled him from his thought.
“This is just a small store, they don't sell oysters here,” Harry lied and went over to the deserts and yoghurts. He would not buy expensive oysters for Lucius Malfoy; besides, he had no idea how they had to be prepared and he surely would end up food- poisoning the richest aristocrat in the wizarding world. Harry would not risk it. Lucius would only charge him as soon as he was free of Harry.
“Muggles live on a much lower level than even I have imagined,” Lucius drawled when he appeared next to Harry.
Harry ignored him and instead said: “Pick something you like.”
The Death Eater raised an eyebrow and carefully took a chocolate pudding to eye it critically.
“You don't have to fear it, it is just a desert, it will not try to harm you,” Harry scoffed.
“I am not afraid of it, but a good portion of caution is always in order, especially in a muggle store,” Lucius explained with a stern voice.
“Yeah, I get it: Constant vigilance!” he retorted dryly. Lucius rewarded him with an evil glare, which only made Harry snicker. “So have you decided?” Harry asked and dropped some of the chocolate puddings into the trolley.
“I will forgo this... offer,” Lucius declared in a drawling voice and put the desert back onto its shelf. Harry only shrugged, it was not his problem that Lucius didn't trust anything muggle.
They went to the cash register and Harry laid everything in front of the young woman, who smiled friendly at him. She looked a bit funny, when she noticed all the frozen meat, but began to scan everything without asking any questions.
“This is a slow procedure,” Lucius scoffed and the woman looked up to see who had criticize her, but the moment her eyes landed on Lucius she went beet red and her mouth opened without producing any sound. Lucius, who had seen the girl’s reaction, only sneered at her and Harry wanted nothing more but to give him a piece of his mind about polite behaviour, but they were already drawing enough attention as it was. Unimpressed, the girl started to bet her lashes seductively.
“How much is it?” He asked quickly, before Lucius would start to think about cursing the gaping girl wandlessly
The girl jerked when Harry pulled her from her daydreams and stuttered: “56, 49 Pounds, Sir.”
The Sir was obviously meant for Lucius, because the girl was still looking at him and no one in their right mind would call him Sir. He looked far too young. He put the money in front of the cashier and actually had to knock a few times on the counter before she noticed him.
“Your money,” he said, more than a bit annoyed by now.
She finally caught on to his mood and hastily gave him his change before squeaking: “Have a nice day, Sir!”
Harry growled in the back of his throat and stomped out of the store.
Outside, he waited for Lucius to catch up with him, who appeared a second later with a lazy stride. "At least muggles can recognize their superiors when they are in front of them"
"Arrogant bastard" Harry muttered darkly.
"My parents were married, Potter."
"Were they brother and sister too?” Harry asked innocently making Lucius scowl at him.
Happy with finally having shut the bastard up, he pointed with his nose at the three heavy plastic backs: “I don't think that you will help me carrying these?”
“No, of course not. I already told you, Malfoys do not do physical labour,” He said smoothly... too smoothly for Harry’s liking.
“But you will help me bury the Dursleys later this evening; you will not get around that. They cannot rot in the cellar,” Harry said darkly and set a quick pace, not waiting for another snide remark. He wanted to get home; it was far too stressful to go outside in the muggle world with Lucius Malfoy. Harry glanced sideways and to his dismay he noticed that, while he was panting and nearly running, Lucius was still striding elegantly, only at a faster pace. He huffed and turned his face away, he didn't need this realization for his ego.
“My, my, are we envious?” Lucius mocked him; the man had apparently noticed his stare.
“No, I am not. I am just annoyed. You cannot be inconspicuous for one moment, can you?” Harry snapped back. “We have a big problem, if someone finds us right now.”
“It is not my fault, that my wand has been taken away from me, it was after all your ally and if you had been raised properly, like every heir to an family like yours should have been, even with a worthless Mudblood mother, and not by muggles and that old fool of an headmaster, you would be in possession of an unregistered wand and be able to do magic even in the holidays,” Lucius drawled. “Besides, I cannot see the problem with being found by somebody. That would only mean that I could finally bring you to my master.”
Harry growled angrily: “You expect that it would be some of your comrades, but what if it would be someone from the Ministry? I could tell them, that you tried to bring me to Voldemort. You are still wearing your Death Eaters robes and your mask is lying in my front garden, what do you think they would do? Send you home or to Azkaban? And don't talk about my mother like this ever again!”
For once, Lucius said nothing in retort and Harry was thankful for that, stomping back all the way to 4 Privet Drive and fuming silently.
Nagini was still lying lazily in the armchair when they came back, but rose up as soon as she noticed them. She slithered from her resting place and came over to Harry:
“Have you brought me something to eat?” She asked, without acknowledging Lucius.
“I have. It is in the bags, wait a moment and I will give it to you,” Harry dumped the bags on the counter and unwrapped most of the meat, then he went to the back garden, to lay it down on the grass, he did not want blood stains on the expensive carpet. He would only get problems with Marge in the end, or who ever would inherit the house.
“You should wait a few minutes, until the sun has defrosted everything, or you might get ill otherwise,” he hissed to Nagini, who had followed him.
“Thank you,” she hissed back and curled around her meal to wait patiently.
Harry tried to decide what to do next. He wanted to stay outside for a while and enjoy the sun, but it was nearly lunch time and he still had to cook. So he went inside and promised himself to include Lucius in the cooking, the man could do something else other than insult him about his food. He quickly packed away all the groceries and returned the rest of the money to the safe, and then he shouted for his unpleasant guest.
Lucius let him wait for at least five minutes. Harry was sure that he had done that on purpose, because there was nothing in his relative’s house he could be occupied with right now, unless he had found his undying love for sappy muggle TV- drama series.
When the aristocrat finally graced him with his presence, Harry commanded: “Help me with cutting the vegetables.” He would not ask Lucius, or he would get another answer in the manner of the high and mighty patriarch.
The man stepped to the knife that lay on the counter and started without arguing. Harry was surprised and turned to his own work at hand: preparing the chicken for the soup. He washed it carefully, before putting it down next to a big pot full of still cold water. After turning the stove on, he turned to Lucius and examined his handy work.
“You know, we are not brewing a potion, it don't has to be so accurate.”
“Accuracy is the key to wealth and public image, but there is no way that a Halfblood like you would ever have learned that,” Lucius sneered.
Harry grew beet red: “Just so that you know: I have enough public image and I am not poor either.” He didn't know where the urge to defend himself came from, after all; he knew how Lucius Malfoys mind worked. Nothing other than perfection was acceptable for him and that started by ones blood status.
“But you are not very wealthy either and your public image is mostly a poor one,” Lucius didn't looked up from his work, that made Harry even more angry.
“At least, Halfblood and muggle-born parents don’t think only about their children's blood status and love them unconditionally,” Harry spat venomously.
“We love our children as well, in fact, children are the most valuable thing to Purebloods, that is why none of our children fight in the war, not until they are adults and can decide that for themselves,” Lucius retorted smoothly as ever.
Harry felt the words like a knife in his heart, Lucius had hit closer to home than the man would ever have imagined. He wanted to grab his own kitchen knife and shove it into the Death Eaters back. He fought the urge with all his willpower and forced a false smile on his face:
“At least, we can fight for our world.” He had hoped that his face could for once fool somebody, but by the look in Lucius eyes, Harry knew that the man had seen right through his lies:
“Keep believing in your own lies, Potter, but spare me.”
“Sure, but you do that as well. Protecting your children until they are seventeen and then standing by and watching how they are tortured by the Cruciatus Curse? That is so much better!” He laughed and his voice sounded mad even to his own ears, but he had reached his goal, Lucius had gone a bit paler and his hands where slightly shaking. With a smirk, Harry turned away and dropped the chicken into the pot.

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LM
This was the second night in which Potter was moaning, tossing and turning. Like last night, the boy had connected their hands and turned to the wall and he himself had turned in the other direction. He had hoped that he could have a quiet night’s sleep, but as it was, it was very unlikely. So instead, he laid once more awake, thinking about the day with the boy-who-lived. After the displeasing walk to the shopping centre and the cooking, Harry had gone outside to lay lazy in the sun and he had tried to find something to do in the pathetic muggle house. He had ended up with a muggle novel, which was obviously meant for women and it did not surprise Lucius anymore as to why muggles had no sense of culture, etiquette or art, when they only read stories like this one, however, it was preferable to the loud black box with the moving pictures and the scandalous clad women.
Still, the predictable story could not hold him captive and so his thoughts had drifted off to the mystery that was Harry Potter. The boy lived an entirely different life than he had imagined or even his son, who knew Potter better then he himself, had reported him. Draco had always said that Potter behaved high and mighty, like he owned the world, but after all he had witnessed until now, he had to suspect that Draco’s observations might have sprung from his own jealousy over Potter’s fame. The whole environment, where the boy lived, showed clearly, that he lived without any luxury at all.
Potter had cleaned and cooked and walked to the little store. Lucius was still not happy about the fact, that he had to walk as well, but that was not the point right now, and it had been better than helping Potter burying his late family. The boy had fetched a second shovel from an old lady by named Mrs. Figg and thrust it into his hands with the word: “Dig!”
He had tried to refuse, but in the end he had to face the fact that he was not the person who held the most power right now. That was a new and unwelcome feeling for him. Sure, he had never been Minister of Magic or something like that, but in his own way, through his magical power, his intelligence, his money and standing amongst the Pureblood families, he had always been more influential than any politician. He really resented that feeling and still did not know how to behave around a boy who treated him like any other common wizard without fearing his money or his social standing. Normally he got his way through a clever combination of bribery and threats, but he had no wand to threaten Potter and he would not be interested in galleons, as far as Lucius could see. That meant he had nothing to influence the young hero and in the end he could do nothing but dig.
And then there had been his words from yesterday evening. Potter had told him that he believed that neither side cared about their soldiers in this war. He didn't know what soldiers were, but he assumed that they must be similar to aurors in the wizarding world. Did this mean that the hero of the light side didn't agree with the way things were going? Maybe even with his given task in this war?
Lucius knew that the war was a much more complicated matter than most wizards knew and he asked himself how much Potter knew and how much Dumbledore kept secret from him. He decided to watch Potter more closely, maybe he would find out something useful for his Lord.
One thing he had already found out: His Lord’s snake had taken a liking to the boy wonder. Lucius could not really question the snakes changing loyalty, because Potter was kind hearted, even to an enemy, another point that irritated him about the boy. Potter had treated him mostly in a polite manner, and that more than anything else, had shown Lucius how different his Lord and Potter really were.
Despite himself, Lucius had gotten the feeling that a true Lord should not reign through fear, threats, and torture. Potter had been right back in the kitchen: What use was it to keep the children away from the war and then stand by and watch how they were tortured as soon as they had reached adulthood? Children were after al the most precious goods they had in the wizarding world. He had hated Potter for his comment, because the child had been right. But still, the Dark Lord was right in more points than Dumbledore, he knew that even more now, after he had been forced to live among muggles for over a day, than before.
A sob came from his right and he turned to look at Potter. Tears were streaming down his face and his body was shaking, the boy seemed to be having a nightmare. No child should suffer nightmares at this young age; he had always believed that and protected his own son to the best of his abilities.
Lucius took the chance to study Potter more closely than he could during the day. The boy was small, only 5,2 feet tall, his shoulders narrow and his closed eyes big in his face. He looked as if he had not reached puberty yet, it was disconcerting to think that he had to be nearly 15 by now. On a closer inspection he noticed that he really did not resemble James Potter as much as he had first thought. True, he had his father’s thick and messy hair, and his general features, but James had always been tall and broad shouldered, nearly as tall as an adult as Lucius himself. In contrast to that, his son could be mistaken for a girl, if he would grow his hair longer; there was not much masculinity about him. Maybe this would change when Potter’s facial features grew sharper with age and were not as boyish anymore.
But this all was really of no interest to him. Potter was still an insufferable brat with a far too big mouth and who definitely needed to be taught some manners (maybe even with the help of a bit good, old caning), a proper way to dress himself and a brush. Normally, he would never consider caning a method to teach a child anything, his parents had taught him that, but the small raven seemed to be immune against anything else.
Another sob tore itself from Potter’s mouth and he wished for a silencing spell. For a moment he thought about waking the boy up, to save him from his nightly torture, but then remembered that Potter was not his concern and just turned back around, trying to ignore the sounds that no child should ever make.
The next morning after he had showered, dressed himself and gone down into the small kitchen; Potter once again shocked him with one of his ridiculous ideas. The boy eyed him across the table and sniffed loudly, before wrinkling his nose: “We will drive to muggle London and buy you some new clothes. You are starting to reek, or your robes do.”
Glaring as threateningly as he could, he declared: “I will not accompany you on a shopping spree to muggle London and I will certainly not wear anything remotely like muggle clothes.”
Instead of being impressed, that nightmare of a boy only smirked: “If you don't want to get new clothes, I could always give you some old ones of my uncles.”
Every other wizard would have fled at his icy glare, but Potter didn't even waver. The thought of buying and even wearing muggle clothes was revolting, but unfortunately, he was by now sure that Potter would stick to his threat and make him wear his dead uncle’s shirts and trousers. With the best sneer he could muster he said: “Fine, but don't expect that I will pay you the money back.”
“I would never dream of it,” Potter rolled his eyes, something he did quite often and stood up.
“We have forty minutes to get to the bus. Be ready to leave in thirty,” the boy commanded and strolled out of the room. Maybe his son had been right after all and Harry Potter was as arrogant as he had told him.
Sneering at his breakfast, which consisted of Muffins, he finished quickly and left his plate behind. Potter could look after the dishes. That was a task he certainly would never do. No Malfoy would ever clean dirty dishes, that was a job for house elves or wizards who were of no importance as he himself was.
He found the boy sitting in the living room, petting his new pet snake absentmindedly. His hair was as messy as ever and the colour of the red shirt was faded, as was the picture on the front of it. How could the boy dress in revolting clothes like this? He was the boy-who-lived, a celebrity, as much as Lucius hated that fact, so why hadn't his relatives provided him with a more fitting attire? Even muggles must have enough intelligence to realise that no one, who was in the interest of the public eye should be seen like this.
He was roughly pulled from his thoughts, when the fireplace suddenly flared up and he was alert immediately, gripping for his wand, which was not there. Potter had jumped up as well, his wand now outstretched before him, regardless of the fact that he would not be able to use it unless he wanted to get into serious trouble, which he would, the golden boy had, after all, already ignored the laws for underage wizards once.
His eyes darted around in the room, searching for anything that could be used as a weapon, even though he would have no chance with a knife if suddenly aurors and ministry officials would appear.
A face formed in the flames and he sighed inwardly, when he recognized Severus Snape in the heath.
“Snape!” Potter sighed and the potions master glared at him:
“Potter, I will drop fifty points from Gryffindor even before the next term has officially started, if you not start to address me properly!”
Potter rolled his eyes in clear annoyance, there was apparently no threat that would teach the brat to behave himself like it would be adequate in front of a superior and Lucius once again thought, that a proper caning might be a lesson the young hero would benefit from.
“Have you been able to contact Dumbledore?” Potter asked crouching down in front of the fireplace.
“No, the Dark Lord is still searching for you and I had to lay low. I have not much time either, because I broke into a muggle house to use their fireplace, in hope that nobody will notice that I know where you are hiding.”
Potter nodded: “How long will it be, until you can contact anybody?”
“That depends on how quickly the Dark Lord will give up on finding you. I just wanted to make sure, that our hero,” Severus sneered at that word, “...is still alive.”
“I am,” Potter’s look had darkened and his voice was colder than Lucius had ever heard it before.
“Good, I will take my leave then and contact you, as soon as I can,” with that said the spy disappeared once again.
Potter glared a moment at the once again empty hearth, before looking at his watch and saying: “We have to go now.”
Without any more argument, he slipped into his expensive dragon hide boots, after all, he knew when a fight was pointless and it would be much more respectable to bear with the situation silently. They left the house and Potter took the same way they had gone yesterday to the grocery store. Once again the muggles were looking, goggling at him. As a Malfoy, he was used to these kinds of looks, Malfoys after all were famous for their beauty and normally he relished in these gazes, especially, when they came from young and attractive wizards, but not today. He had no interest in unattractive muggle women in their mid-forties.
Glancing discretely over at the boy next to him, he remembered, that only yesterday, Potter had seemed to enjoy their attention, or at least get some amusement from it, but today he looked totally annoyed, but that could be because of Severus' visit a few minutes ago, the two truly hated each other and he could sympathize with his former friend. He himself would not want to be stuck in a classroom with that boy for seven years, twice a week.
On the other hand, he could not understand why Potter didn't try to get along with the potions master; after all, it would be wise to gain an acquaintance like Severus Snape. It was always good to befriend intelligent and talented people and the traitor was the best potions brewer in the whole wizarding world, he had even a certificate as evidence. But Lucius supposed that Potter was not intelligent enough to see the benefits a friendship or at least a peace with Severus Snape would gain him.
Suddenly the boy stopped at a strange glass-house and sat down on a bench, he would never consider using even after a couple of cleaning spells. He wanted to ask why they were standing under a glass roof and how they would get to muggle London, after all, it was not close enough to walk, but that would mean to admit how little he actually knew about the muggle world and he would never admit to a weakness of any kind.
Muggle London! He, Lucius Malfoy, would go to muggle London; that thought alone was degrading and even worse, Potter would force him to try muggle clothing on and even buy them. He had seen many muggles since he had arrived at Potter’s house, more than he had seen in his entire life before and the thought of dressing like them was revolting beyond anything! All these men in their colourful, and often plaid shirts, with those ill-fitting trousers, as if they never looked in a mirror, and he would have to wear similar garments. Garment was not even the right word to describe muggle clothing; rags would be a more suitable word. His only hope was, that his natural Malfoy grace would save his dignity and that hopefully nobody besides Potter and maybe Severus would ever see him like this.
The city itself would surely be as repellent as their citizens. Muggles had no taste, not even in architecture. Their houses were either smaller than the broom shack on his Manor grounds, or gigantic, grey in ornate. Sure, in contrast to other Death Eaters, he did not share the opinion that every muggle should be eradicated, they were humans after all, regardless of how under-developed their culture was, but that was still no reason to go to muggle London and visit their pathetic shops.
But unfortunately, Potter didn't share his sentiment; in fact, he seemed quite excited about their little excursion.
Turning his back to the boy, who had not spoken to him since they left the house, he tried to distract himself by eyeing the front gardens across the street. It was not easy to distract himself this way, because in comparison to the Manor gardens, they really were more than pathetic.
Muggles generally had no real beautiful flowers; their small roses would look like weeds next to a moonlight rose or a silver-white witch, which was his favourite rose, with its delicate, white petals and silver patterns.
Furthermore, most muggles seemed to like to disgrace their gardens even further by putting strange and horribly colourful devices in their gardens. By now he had realized, that these devices seemed to be some sort of toy for their children, but still, a garden should be there to impress guests and possible new acquaintances.
A loud, roaring noise made him look up and something that looked like a huge car halted in front of them. A door opened and Potter stood up and motioned to him to step inside. He passed the corpulent man, who sat in front of the wheel, ignoring him entirely and eyed the vehicle in disgust. What had Potter called it earlier? A bus?
“Hey man, stop right there!” the man in the front shouted suddenly. He turned around with a sneer, how dare that man to talk to him in such a manner?
“Have you never taken the bus before? You have to pay!” the man barked. Glaring down at the disgrace for human he retorted coldly: “Indeed, I haven't. Normally I do not
lower myself to the use of such ways of travelling.”
“It's fine, he belongs to me.” Potter had stepped in behind him and laid a small amount of muggle money on the small counter. The driver gave him two paper cards, which he pocketed together with his change, before coming up to him.
“Don't you want to sit down?”
Eyeing the filthy seats once more he wrinkled his nose: “No curse in the world could make me sit down on such a disgusting seat. Do they never clean this car?”
Potter shrugged. “I will just warn you: bus drivers drive like mad. You better sit down quickly,” the boy advised him and scooted onto a small bench.
“I surely will not...” his sentence was interrupted as the driver started the bus and he was nearly knocked from his feet. He surely would have flown across the large car, injuring himself severely in the process, if Potter had not grabbed onto his robe, yanking him forward so that he was only knocked against the small boy and the bench he was sitting on.
He must have hit the boy hard, but the child didn't even flinch. Staring in shock into those big, green eyes, he noticed absentmindedly how thin Harry Potter truly was. The baggy shirt hid it well, but he could feel the child's ribs sticking uncomfortably into his side and the leg he was more or less laying on was thin like a twig.
Unable to break his stare from those deep- green ones, he grabbed the back of the next seat and pulled himself up. Potter scooted over wordlessly and he sat down.
“So, I thought, no curse in the world could make you sit down on a seat like this?” the boy smirked after a moment.
Sneering once again, he retorted coldly: “Apparently, this muggle can.”
To his disgust, Potters grin broadened: “Lucius Malfoy, Lord of the proud Malfoy family is bested by a mere muggle?”
“Be quiet, Potter, or I will make sure that you find a painful end,” he hissed, but didn't succeed in wiping the smirk from Potter’s face.

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HP
Harry turned to look out of the window, but his smirk remained the whole drive. It had been reflex to grab Lucius Malfoy, as he was threatening to fly across the bus, but he had surely not expected the aristocrat to land on top of him. It really had been a shock. To his utter dismay he had to realize that the bastard was not only tall and had a beautiful face, but he was even more muscled than he had ever imagined a Malfoy could be; after all, they never seemed to do any kind of physical exercise, but he had been proven wrong only minutes ago.
Fate really was a bitch. Besides, why should he even think about how muscled Lucius Malfoy was? The man was an enemy and even if he had been into guys, he would never consider the arrogant aristocrat as something remotely to a lover. In fact, he could not even imagine him as a parental figure or an uncle, all these thought were really gross. But still, for the barest moment the body pressed against his had felt good.
Shaking his head inwardly fiercely he watched the passing streets and houses. He had the feeling that buying clothes for Lucius in muggle London would turn out to be quite the event, but not in a good way. The Pureblood had not a single nice or even neutral look for anything muggle. From the gardens in their neighbourhood, over cars to anything else, he eyed everything with disgust and distaste and the most hateful looks he had for Harry, not even the man’s son had thrown such looks at him and they had been school rivals for about four years.
When they had finally reached their destination, he motioned for Lucius to get up. Outside in front of the parked bus, Harry needed a moment to orientate himself. He had rarely been in muggle London, only at the rare occasions when aunt Petunia had decided that she needed someone to carry her shopping back, but that had only happened a few times because mostly she had been the opinion that he was more an annoyance than of use and let him stay at home.
Maybe he would find the right store by what style of clothes they would need, so he turned to examine the aristocrat. Lucius was quite tall, with a slim waist. That already excluded many stores he knew because uncle Vernon and Dudley had always been on the corpulent side of the scale.
Maybe a store for young, fashion-conscious people would be the best chance to find something, which would actually not fall off of the man’s hips, but Lucius was not the type to wear modern young fashion. They could always go into a expensive store for tailored suits, the noble man might even like that, but Harry did not have enough money to buy a couple of pants and button-downs there and groceries for the next days or even weeks.
“Potter, what are you staring at?” the man snapped, pulling him from his musing.
“I am trying to think where to find out which store we might find something to wear for you,” Harry answered.
“And why is that such a complicated question? I thought you would be familiar with this part of London.”
“Well I am, but not that good; I was not often allowed to come here,” he explained, biting his lip immediately as he realized, what he had just admitted. Wanting to guide the conversation to a less embarrassing topic, he started to ramble, like he always did, when he got nervous:
“The bigger problem is that you are quite slim, in fact, you have the perfect figure of a model, but that is fairly rare, so it will be difficult to find the right shop.”
A second brow rose on Lucius face and Harry flushed violently: “Don't look at me like that, I only tried to describe your figure neutrally,” he tried to save himself, but it was too late.
A smug smirk tucked at the corner of Lucius Malfoys lips and Harry wished that the ground would open beneath him. Turning quickly he started to walk down the shopping street, deciding that he would just keep his eyes open for any fitting store.
The attention they got was even worse than in Harry’s small neighbourhood. All along the way women stopped to goggle after them, or to be more precise after Lucius, no one had noticed him yet and no one seemed to consider, that the small boy in front of the gorgeous blond actually belonged to him.
Harry became rather conscious of his old, baggy t-shirt, the faded pants, his unruly mop of hair and his knobby knees. He pulled absentmindedly at the hem of his shirt, trying to let it look less old, but to no avail. It was just his luck to have to go out with the most handsome and well-clad man there was. Huffing, he shoved his hands into his pockets and just concentrated back on his surroundings.
He was glad, when they came across a store, where aunt petunia had bought Dudley’s suit for last year’s school ball and he could leave the crowded street. Unfortunately his pitiful dressing was just more obvious in a elegant shop like this, but the shop assistant was luckily too polite to say anything, or they had just seen Lucius following behind, him and assumed, that they belonged together and they had not to fear thievery.
Hoping that they might have luck in this store, because one year ago when Dudley had bought his suit, the boy had not been so fat and they might have things besides from plus size, he looked for the section with the trousers.
When he had find the right row, he led the way to the suit-trousers and started to look at the tags.
Glancing over his shoulder, he threw another glimpse at Lucius. What was it with that man? Even for a well-build man, his physique was astonishing. The aristocrat had not only long legs and a flat stomach that was most likely perfect as well, with well trained abs, but everything else was perfection as well. His shoulders were broad, but not too much for his slim figure, his throat was slim, but strong at the same time. Maybe there really was Veela blood flowing in the Malfoys bloodline? He had heard rumours about it. Considering, that it had been Draco who had bragged about his supposed inheritance the most, he had never quite believed it, especially because the boy lacked the elegance those creatures should possess, but watching his father right now, he might start to believe these rumours after all. He sighed in irritation.
Since the man had landed on him, he caught himself far too often stealing glances. Shoving the thought to the side, he pulled out the smallest pants and held it up to find out, if this one could actually fit the man, but his eyes didn't land on the aristocrat in general, but on one of his elegant and slender hands. Damn those hands were sexy! His long fingers were quite sinful, but luckily, he reminded himself quickly, he wasn't into men and especially not into one Lucius Malfoy, because the man was a evil, cold-hearted bastard.
Growling inwardly, or maybe not so inwardly, if the irritated flicker in Lucius eyes were any indication, he shoved the trousers into the noble man's arms.
“Try these,” he snapped, angry with himself for watching a man that was not only undeserving of being watched because of his bad character, but because said man was also his enemy.
“Do not talk to me like this, you lowly Halfblood!” Lucius sneered back, his eyes suddenly colder than ice.
“I am not lowly! People like you, who get their kicks out of torturing others are lowly!” he hissed back, infuriated by the Death Eaters words.
“Of course you are lowly, maybe not in comparison with the Granger girl, but I am the successor of the most ancient and noble Pureblood bloodline and will not tolerate to be spoken to in this manner!”
Harry ground his teeth together. He really hated the bastard!
“Just try these damn trousers on and spare me your crap!”
Lucius glared at him, but finally inspected the trousers, feeling the fabric. Like expected, he wrinkled his nose: “Why would anyone buy trousers of such low quality?”
Taking a deep breath, Harry tried to calm his temper; it would not be good if he murdered Lucius Malfoy in the middle of a muggle suit-store. But oh! How he hated that man!
“Muggles don't have spells to enchant the comfort of their trousers and I don’t have the money to buy you silk ones,” he retorted drily and pointed into the direction of the changing cubicles.
“I doubt that muggle silk is better than anything else they produce,” Lucius drawled and finally went to the changing rooms.
Harry decided to just wait for his return. With Ron he would have followed his friends, to check if the pants would fit well or even give his opinion, if asked, but he was sure, that Lord Malfoy would not appreciate his help, especially not after their row.
Besides, the man had probably more knowledge about fashion in his pinkie than he himself had in his whole body. He used the time to take a couple of more calming breaths, praying for patience with the prejudiced wizard. He actually succeeded to get his temper back under control, which was a small miracle given the circumstances and ten minutes later, his involuntary companion was back.
“And?” he asked, because he really could not get any clues from Lucius constant disgusted face.
“Too wide,” was the aristocrats sneering answer.
Sighing, Harry took the trousers and hung it back: “Then we have to look for another store; that was already the smallest size.”
“Are all muggles as fat as your uncle?” Lucius added, his sneer even intensifying, something, that should not be possible. Harry didn't retort and just went back out to the street.
During the thirty minutes they had been in the store, the street had become even more crowded. Harry had to stay close to Lucius to prevent losing him and it was quite uncomfortable to walk so close to the Death Eater and even be pressed into the adults side every so often by passing people. He constantly looked around, but not a single store made an impression that they should even try to go inside.
Suddenly a bright red sign caught his attention: H&M. This was a label for young people and famous for its small sizes. Hopefully they would have some casual button-downs in their assortment.
“We will go into the store over there,” he announced and pointed at the large sign, ignoring Lucius’ raised eyebrows at the sight of the red sign that the man probably thought hideous. When they were near enough for Lucius to see the store windows, he glared at Harry indignantly:
“I will not be seen wearing this kind of fashion, not even by muggles!”
“I am sure, we will find some white shirts and black trousers there as well,” Harry tried to sooth the man, not waiting for an answer before going inside.
As soon as Lucius had stepped in behind him, a young blonde girl, nearly six feet tall and with the figure of a model offered her assistance to the Death Eater, who looked so pissed off right now, that Harry wondered, where the girl had found the courage to even step close to the man, or if she was merely blind:
“Can I help you in any way, Sir?” she smiled brightly, flipping her long curls back over the shoulder.
Lucius gave her his trademark look and answered very coldly: “No. I am fine.”
Obviously disappointed, the girl looked around for something to vent her anger and her heavy coloured eyes fell on Harry. Harry winced, this girl was obviously not as polite as the assistant in the last store and would not leave him be.
“What are you doing here, brat? Trying to steal anything? You don't look as if you have any money to buy one of our shirts. I should call the police immediately!”
Harry's wincing turned into an eye-roll of his eyes. It wasn't as if H&M was especially expensive. Even he could effort trousers and shirts here. But that didn't change his current problem with the girl. She was still glaring down at him and looked as if she would believe nothing he would say to her. Harry knew this particular look. Uncle Vernon and aunt Petunia had worn it nearly constantly around him and he hated the expression even more than Lucius' glares.
To Harry's utter surprise, Lucius stepped in: “He belongs to me. The boy is my nephew.”
The girl recoiled: “Oh, I am sorry Sir, I didn't think...”
“Yes, you didn't. As a good assistant, you should not condemn a possible customer rashly. If I were your principal, I would fire you immediately. And now leave us alone.”
The girl bowed her head and quickly ran away, as soon as she was out of earshot Harry asked:
“Why did you help me?”
“No wizard should be treated like this by a muggle, even the weakest of us are more worthy than them and besides, I am not in the mood to deal with the muggle version of the aurors,” he sneered.
“The police,” Harry said, still astonished.
“What?” Lucius asked.
“The muggle equivalent to the aurors is called police,” he elaborated.
Lucius scoffed, making clear, that he didn't need that knowledge.
Wanting to change the topic, Harry looked around for the right section. Next to the escalator, he found a sign, announcing that the men's section was on the first floor.
“We have to go upstairs,” he said and without thinking, grabbed Lucius by his hand and pulled him onto the moving stairway, only to realize, that the man had never stepped onto such a device. The ever-graceful Malfoy-Lord wavered and for the briefest of moments Harry feared, that he might lose balance, but then the man grabbed onto the banister and a second later he stood as perfectly as ever, and as if he used escalators on a daily basis, glaring down at Harry. His look promising horrible pains, whilst Harry tried to make the impression, as if he didn't see the glare.
The first floor was much less crowded than the basement, with only men up here. The section with the more formal clothing was at the far back and clearly visible. Once there, Harry immediately saw that it had been a good idea to go into H&M, the only problem was that they had only black jeans and no formal trousers.
Taking once again a guess at the size, he pulled out two of the jeans and a white and a black button-down shirt.
“These feel un-wearable,” Lucius drawled, glaring at the jeans.
“They are not un-wearable. I am wearing jeans all the time, so I should know,” Harry sighed, wishing that for once, the man would just not voice his spiteful comments.
“Where are the changing rooms?” Lucius asked and Harry looked around.
“Just follow the sign with the arrow,” he said and pointed to the wall to their right and without another word Lucius disappeared.
Looking around, he thought about buying some new clothes for himself too, but he had no endless amount of money right now, so he would wait until he had the chance to go to Gringotts and change some of his Galleons into Pounds. But he could still look around a bit.
Glancing over his shoulder, he decided that Lucius Malfoy would be able to find him; the man always told him how intelligent he was after all. Leaving the section of the more formal clothing, he strode over to a row with bright and colourful t-shirts. He honestly was past the age where he would choose shirts with cartoon motifs and he would be glad to finally get rid of those. He only wore these kinds of shirts the past two years because he was so much smaller than his cousin had been; the things Dudley had worn four years ago fit him now. In fact, they were still too big, but they didn't fall from his shoulders anymore.
A green and yellow curled t-shirt caught his attention and he picked it up.
“I would not buy those, Potter, it would not suit you,” Lucius voice drawled suddenly from behind him.
Really, did the man need to voice his opinion on everything?
“Why not? I can wear bright colours, Ron and Hermione always say that,” he huffed in annoyance.
“But they would not fit who you are,” Lucius retorted.
“And you can tell me that, because we have been friends for so long and you know me so well,” he countered sarcastically.
“I have seen enough of you in the past two days and even more important, I knew the Potters and believe it or not, your blood is the foundation of who you are and who you will grow into.”
“I don't believe that kind of crap. How should I be formed by something that can't even teach or raise me? I never had the chance to get to know the Potters or even the Evans and I will decide which kind of person I will become,” he sneered. How dare the prick of a man make such assumptions about him?
“There you are wrong. Magical blood, in contrast to muggle blood is powerful and even without these powers, duties and obligations of your family name would form you sooner or later. At the latest after your coming of age, when you will be forced to acknowledge those duties.”
“Yeah, you should know that, after all, the Malfoy family is like a huge slave driver,” he spat.
Lucius eyes flashed dangerously and he realized that he had gone too far. Sighing, he combed with one hand through his hair. His late family was a very sore topic for him, the fact that everyone knew more about them than he himself, apparently even Lucius Malfoy. Ron and Hermione knew that and they had silently agreed to wait until Harry was ready to talk about his early loss and not to force him to talk. On top of that came his confusion about the blond noble man in general. He had avoided staring at Lucius since the last shop, but he actually had to put effort in it, because the man seemed to have something that drew his eyes to him. But the issue with his parents had been the main reason for his outburst. It was just too painful to be reminded about his lonely childhood like this.
“I am sorry. It's just... so painful to talk about them,” he admitted; at least the part he could actually admit. His voice was barely audible and weak and he felt childish for sounding like a small and sad child in front of the stern and always composed Malfoy-Lord. When the man stayed silent, he carefully looked up, only to see a sparkle of softness flash in those silver eyes, but it was quickly gone again.
Still, these short glimpse of an emotion, he had never seen the man express before, made him believe, that Lucius Malfoy might not be as cold hearted as he always had believed. When the man still had said nothing after another moment, he asked: “Do the clothes fit?”
“The trousers fit, but I need the shirts a size larger, they are too tight around my chest.”
Harry took the shirts from Lucius and went over to get the right size. The noble man waited in front of the escalator for him and they went down and lined up in front of the counter. They had to wait over ten minutes, until it was finally their turn. The blond girl from earlier was sitting there, but as she recognized them, she hurried to scan their things. Harry paid and they went outside again. Checking his watch he noticed that it was not very late yet and proposed against all his better knowledge: “Would you like some ice cream? I will treat you.”
Harry believed that he had surprised the man, because he only sneered and turned to the next ice cream parlour without arguing or commenting on dangerous muggle food.
They sat down in the shadows under a tree and Harry fetched a second menu from the nearest table for Lucius before opening his own. The man surely had a nose for luxury; this had to be the most expensive ice cream parlour he had ever seen. Harry was sure that not even aunt Petunia would have treated her beloved Dudley to an ice-cream from this parlour.
Having decided what he would take, he laid the menu back down; Lucius was still scanning his but did the same only a minute later. When the waitress came, Harry was glad to see, that it was a nice looking old Lady, who smiled at him with a friendly smile and looked at Lucius no different than anybody else.
“What would you like my dear?” she asked, her small notebook in hand.
“I would like to order a Spaghetti ice-cream and a coke,” he smiled and gave her the menu.
“And you, Sir?” she asked, turning to Lucius.
“Bring me a cappuccino and a Amarena Cherry Cup.”
The lady promised them to be back soon and left their table once more. Only then did Harry realize that it had been a mistake to go into a cafe with Lucius Malfoy. He had no idea what he should talk about with that man; truth to be told, he wasn't even sure if he wanted to have a conversation with the aristocrat at all. As far as he knew, they were entirely different with basically different beliefs and principles and any conversation would most likely turn into an argument.
You could see the differences between them with even one look: Lucius sat across from him, looking for all means, as if he not only owned the place, but the whole shopping street. The man had leaned back in his chair and still succeeded in maintaining a straight posture, his legs crossed and one arm lazily draped on the armrest of his chair. Not in a thousand years, would Harry be able to make such an impression by only sitting in a plastic chair. Lucius had his nobility written in every feature, in every movement and even in every strand of his damn silver-blonde hair; he really hated the man's perfection, because sadly, that was what the man was. But really: That a evil bastard like Lucius Malfoy should look like this, that was truly unfair.
To his absolute horror, Lucius decided to take the matter of talking into his own hands:
“You didn't seem very sad about your family's death, Potter?”
Staring at his counterpart, he tried to decide, if the wizard was honestly curious and interested in him, or if he wanted to gather information for Lord Voldemort. Coming to the conclusion that Lucius was probably honestly interested in him, because that might bring him useful information for his master, he answered: “I only lived there for two month each year.”
“But you lived there since you had been one year old, as far as I know. That leads me to the conclusion, that they did not treat you the way a family should,” Lucius commented.
Glaring at the man he said: “Listen, I will not tell you anything. I am not so stupid, you know? You probably only want to gather information for your master and I will not help you with that.”
Lucius smirked: “Ah I see, you are after all not as stupid and suicidal as Severus seems to believe.”
Harry crossed his arms in front of his chest: “Well, Snape doesn't know much about me, even though he has been my teacher for four years already. But getting to know me would have meant to get over his prejudices, whatever they are and wherever they come from and actually talk and maybe even listen to me,” he snapped.
At that moment their orders arrived and their conversation came to a short halt. When the old lady was gone once again, Harry took a spoon full of ice cream and then said with a still full mouth:
“You all believe that you know me, only because the Daily Prophet writes nonsense without my consent, at least three times in a week, but it is total rubbish.”
“Is it?” Lucius asked nonchalantly.
“Is it what?” Harry asked irritated, he had been focused back on his ice-cream already.
“Is it rubbish, what the Daily Prophet writes?” Lucius elaborated.
Harry glared at the man once more; he felt his hardly calmed temper rise again as well. “Last year I was everything from the tragic hero to the psychotic maniac, who will become the next dark Lord or just plain insane. Do you really think that even I could be that unstable?” He snapped.
“Of cause not, Potter, I only...”
Harry cut him off sneering with sarcasm heavy in his voice: “You only thought that I am powerful enough to keep Rita Skeeter in check?”
“No, of cause not. Only a few people have the needed means to accomplish something like this and a mere child certainly does not have the power to be one of them.” Lucius sighed.
Harry eyed him wearily, it seemed, as if the aristocrat wanted to say something more, but couldn't find the right words to phrase it. The man scowled slightly, showing once more much more of his feelings, than he normally did. But with Lucius was it a bit like with Snape: Harry was able to get under the skin of both men and it was the same the other way around.
“Even if I do not like you, Potter,... but there should have been people to protect you from the press and the Ministry and many other things.”
Harry stared at Lucius in shock; did the man feel something akin to sympathy for him? Harry wanted to say that he didn't need the man's sympathy, but something in the man's eyes stopped him from doing so. Whatever Lucius motives were for his words, it wasn't sympathy.
Instead he sneered: “Yeah, because I have so many people, who could have done that.”
“You have,” Lucius said sternly. “Not your muggle relatives, of course not; and not Black, who has to hide...”
Harry's shock grew even worse: Did Lucius know that Sirius was his godfather?
The Malfoy-Lord smirked in answer: “My wife was a Black and every Pureblood family is related in some way or the other, so it is just natural, that I know about your little godfather. But my point was a different one...” the man went on, ignoring Harry's mouth, which hung open, gaping.
“...even without parents and Black, there was still Lupin, the other friend of your parents, or Dumbledore. I even heard that the Weasleys adopted you as an eighth son. They could have done something as well.”
“Yeah, but not everybody thinks that bribery is the right way to deal with problems,” Harry sneered, but it was more an exhausted sigh than anything else.
“That, is the problem with so called light wizards and witches. They are far too strict in every aspect, regardless, if it is of help to them or only provides more complications,” Lucius smirked and Harry could see that he really had no qualms with using illegal methods to get his way.
Staring into his coke, he asked himself, if Lucius couldn't be right. Would he be ready to forego some rules and laws for the wellbeing of his family and the people he loved? If he was honest with himself, he would have no real problem to do so as well.
“Maybe you are right,” he admitted softly.
“I know, I am,” Lucius drawled self-assured adding: “And therefore I will assume that I am right in regards of your relatives as well.”
Sighing, he added in a much calmer voice: “Let's just make one thing clear: You don't want me to ask you about your life and duties as a Death Eater and I don't want to be asked personal questions like this as well.”
Lucius nodded curtly and picked his cappuccino up, sipping on it.
Sighing, he took another spoon full of ice cream.
It really had been a strange idea, to go into a cafe with Lucius Malfoy. Ron surely would send him to St. Mungo's for that if he ever found out and Harry wouldn't even be able to be angry with him, because he surely must have become barmy. But strangely enough, after he had seen this glimpse of a softer feeling than disdain in the wizard's eyes and after Lucius had told him that not even he deserved some of the shit he had to go through, their silence was kind of comfortable instead of awkward. It felt as if they had come to an understanding of sorts. Lucius had seen that he was not the spoiled hero and he had even acknowledged that there were things Harry didn't want to talk about.
Looking up again, he saw, that the aristocrat had finished his ice-cream and drink already, so he hurried up, suddenly eager to get back home, where he could at least not have to sit across from him or next to him in a bus.
He waved for the waitress and paid their bill, checking his watch as he stood up.
“The bus will be there in ten minutes,” he announced, happy about the perfect timing.
He picked the shopping bags up, because Lucius would surely not take them; he strode down the crowded street. Lucius followed him at a leisurely pace, for once ignoring all the stares and hushed comments he received and not sneering at them.
They arrived at the bus stop just in time and Harry didn’t even have to say anything to get Lucius to sit down. He once again looked out of the window, watching the city and landscape flying by. When they finally reached 4 Privet Drive, the sun was setting.
Deciding that it was too late to cook, he prepared some sandwiches and carried them over into the living room, where Lucius was for once not reading, but zapping through the TV-programs, glaring at the flat-screen and obviously unsatisfied with what he found.
“Is there anything you would like to watch?” he asked, taking pity at the man. When he only received a blank expression as answer, he assumed, that Lucius didn't understand, what he meant and elaborated: “Are there any stories you like? Criminal stories, fantasy, or action?”
To his annoyance, Lucius only turned back to the TV and turned it off. Apparently, even their small understanding would not change the attitude of the aristocrat much.
“Fine,” Harry huffed. “Just stick to aunt Petunia’s novels and die of boredom.”
Placing the plate with the sandwiches on the table he decided to search for Nagini, at least, the snake had proven to be quite enjoyable company. The snake wasn't downstairs and so he went up to search there for her. Harry found her fast asleep on his side of his uncle's and aunt's bed. Smiling softly, he decided to let her sleep, but that left him with the question: what should he do for the rest of the evening? As he crossed the door to Dudley's room, a grin spread across his face. Dudley wasn't there anymore, as was his parents and they wouldn't come back to catch him doing anything he wasn't allowed to do. So why shouldn't he just go inside and play a little with Dudley's things. Stepping inside, his eyes darted between the Computer, the Nintendo on the nightstand and the PlayStation. Turning the TV on, he picked up the controller for the PlayStation and started to look through Dudley's games, sitting down on the edge of the bed.
He nearly laughed when he found many games with witches and wizards. Apparently, his relatives’ prejudices had not affected their son's choice of video games. Looking up to the DVD shelf, they probably hadn't had any problems with magical people, as long as they hadn't sat on their sofa or used their fireplace for floo rides.
Harry started a random game; he didn't know any of them anyway and was quickly engrossed in it.
The sun set around him and the room grew dark, but Harry didn't look up or stood up once. It really was a fascinating game and what was even better: No one stopped him from playing.
The door swung open and Lucius stepped inside, a scowl on his face:
“Here you are, Potter. It is late. If you insist on binding our hands for the night, I advise you to end whatever you are doing there and accompany me.”
Harry sighed, but turned the device off. Because he and Lucius had been able to exchange a couple of words without insulting or threatening each other did not mean that he would sleep unguarded next to the man. Lucius huffed in indignation, but he ignored it as he lead the way into the bedroom and started to change for the third night with Lucius Malfoy.
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A Different Kind of Hero