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Easy as Falling	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 31246 -:- Recommendations : 3 -:- Currently Reading : 4
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I am making no money from this fanfic.

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Chapter Twenty-Seven—Dinner With Lucius Malfoy

            “Welcome, Mr. Potter.”

            Harry nodded to Narcissa Malfoy, keeping his expression as amiable as he could. He had last seen Narcissa four years ago when she was kneeling beside him in the Forbidden Forest and laying her hand on his chest to report to Voldemort that he was dead. It made sense that there would be changes between that woman and this one.

            But still, it was disconcerting to realize how much had changed. She looked like a marble statue that someone had given living eyes to. She dropped him a little curtsey and turned away, leading him further into a magnificent corridor and out of the bright little sitting room Harry had Flooed into.

            Harry had known that Draco’s parents weren’t living in Malfoy Manor, but he hadn’t thought to picture what kind of house they would have. Why should he? He had a hard enough time picturing all the threats the Ministry would throw at him, let alone the dwelling place of some people he hadn’t thought would be important to him again.

            You should think of them as important because they’re important to Draco.

            Harry grunted to himself. That protest from his conscience made sense, at least. Maybe he should spend more time and thought on them.

            But this house was beautiful, and ornaments gleamed from every corner, and Harry could almost feel himself shrinking as he walked. He thought that was a deliberately planned effect, one the house was meant to have. Make the intruder feel unimportant, and he might not stay long enough to get the carpets dirty.

            Harry reminded himself, again, that he was Britain’s newest Dark Lord, and he had bonded with Hogwarts and disarmed fifty powerful wizards without even using an Expelliarmus. And he had impressed Briseis and romanced Draco and convinced Hermione to work with him, things that he thought were even harder and more important than his other achievements.

            Had Narcissa Malfoy ever stared Briseis down and insisted on coming to dinner two days before Hogwarts opened? Harry didn’t think so.

            So he put his chin up and practically strutted down the corridor, and if Narcissa looked curiously at him as she led him into the dining room, that didn’t matter, because Harry had decided that it shouldn’t matter.

            He let his eyes turn haughtily around the room. Draco wasn’t there yet. There were only four things in the room: a fireplace along one wall that would swallow the whole of Harry’s new office in Hogwarts without a burp, a table that was nearly as long in the center, a candelabra suspended by a chain from the ceiling that made the whole room blaze as if it would catch on fire, and Lucius Malfoy.

            Harry made a careful note to himself to tell Lucius, sometime, that Harry had looked at him last, preferring the candelabra and the fireplace first. Then he gave a stiff little half-bow. Briseis had tried to coach him what to do in the circumstances, but had to give up when she admitted half the pure-blood niceties on her list depended on knowing whether Harry was going to the Malfoys as an ally or an enemy.

            Or a son-in-law. But Harry decided he wouldn’t mention that possibility until he wanted to watch Lucius Malfoy choke on a tomato.

            “Welcome, Lord Potter.” Lucius’s back was so stiff and still that it took Harry a moment to decide that he meant the words—well, meant them enough to be going on with. “I did not realize that you would arrive so early.”

            This is the time Draco’s owl told me to be here. But the protests died on Harry’s tongue when he realized that he was hardly likely to have found Narcissa waiting to guide him, or Lucius waiting to meet him, if the time was wrong.

            They were just trying to shake him up, the way the ornaments in the house and the sheer size of the corridors were meant to. Harry thought of folding his arms or scowling or spitting out an insult, but he kept coming back to the fact that these people were important to Draco, and, from all the evidence Harry had been able to gather in the war, really did love him.

            So Harry just let his arms hang at his sides and said, “Thank you, Mr. Malfoy.”

            Narcissa walked past him and to the table. Exactly as she stretched out her hand, a beaten gold goblet, with decorations along the top like small pieces of silver barbed wire, appeared. A chilled jug hung above it, falling into Narcissa’s other hand. She turned and inclined her head to Harry as the dark red liquid glided out of the jug and into the cup. “Will you partake, Lord Potter?”

            Harry wanted to ask what it was, but he knew, or thought he knew, what was going on here. It was an intimidation test. Ask what the drink was, or refuse it, and he lost points in their eyes.

            Why the fuck should I care about what I look like to them?

            But the answer, as always, was Draco, and Harry managed to stifle his sigh as he reached out for the goblet. At the same time, he tightened his magic into an invisible net around his throat, ready and waiting to collapse inward if it needed to. Any poison or potions in the goblet would be stopped before he could swallow them.

            There were none that he could tell, though, or that his magic could tell, which was more important. Most of the time, Harry felt that his magic was wiser than he was. He sipped, and choked a little on the thick red wine, harsh enough to make the insides of his veins bristle. He wondered if that was part of the test, too. Maybe he was even failing it by not showing that he was revolted by the taste, and therefore that he wasn’t part of the highest circles.

            But he couldn’t twist himself into knots trying to foresee every tangled little idiocy of pure-blood behavior. And showing emotion of any kind would probably result in losing the contest, too. He put the goblet on the table instead and nodded. “Thank you,” he said, and turned towards the fireplace just as it whooshed and Draco stepped out of it.

            Harry let his eyes warm, because there was no reason not to. The one thing he absolutely trusted Draco’s parents to do was keep information to themselves that could potentially harm Draco—like letting other people know that the world’s newest Dark Lord was fond of him.

            Draco had had his hair done so that it waved gently around his ears and down to his neck, without actually being that different from the natural way it fell most of the time. His robes were a delicate, shifting dream-color, somewhere between ivory and white and gold. Every time Harry tried to get a grip on the shade, Draco would move another way and the candlelight would make the robes appear a different color and Harry would have to give up. But he didn’t think it mattered. What mattered was that Draco looked stunning, and he looked at Harry and let his eyes light up.

            Not as much as he would have in Hogwarts, but, well, if Harry’s parents were still alive, he wouldn’t try to snog Draco in front of them, either. And letting his emotions show freely was practically Draco’s equivalent of snogging.

            “Welcome, Draco,” Narcissa said, moving forwards and holding out her hand as she smiled at him, maybe to show Harry how it was done. Harry watched as Draco kissed the back of his mother’s hand without taking his eyes off Harry, and then shook his father’s hand the same way.

            Lucius showed nothing, whether he was irritated or ruffled by what Draco had done or merely bored. “Shall we dine?” he asked, turning towards the table, and the food appeared at the same time.

            It was expensive food, Harry thought, which meant he didn’t recognize any of it. Well, the seat between Draco and Narcissa, across from Lucius, was clearly his. He eyed the branchy green things on his plate, surrounded by thick slices of meat that was closer to white than pink, and decided to make the best of it. At least in and among the branchy green things were round red spots that looked like berries.

            He had barely sat down when he sensed a shift in the mood of the table. He looked up and from face to face. Lucius and Narcissa were watching him, as fascinated as though he had stripped off his clothes and started dancing naked. Maybe even more than that, Harry thought. He didn’t think either of them had any particular desire to see him naked.

            Unlike their son.

            Harry cleared his throat and decided that ultra-refined and polite ways weren’t getting him anywhere anyway, so he might as well go for the kill. “You wanted something?” he asked. “Other than to tell me what breach of manners I’ve committed now?”

            “It is obvious that you’re not familiar with the food we eat here, Lord Potter,” Narcissa said, her voice as soft as dripping oil. “Why not use your magic to change it to something more to your liking?”

            Lucius was leaning forwards the slightest distance beyond her, his eyes luminous and his hand resting on the table as though he would push himself back and to his feet. Or maybe the hand was lying there casually, for some other reason, and Harry was misreading him.

            Harry restrained the tendency to snort. And maybe my arse will turn purple and start singing about my love for Draco.

            Well, he had expected a test, hadn’t he? If he hadn’t anticipated that Narcissa would deliver the challenge, that was easily remedied. He just had to do something equally unexpected and novel and exciting, so they would understand him and the way he responded in the future. It wouldn’t do to confuse the in-laws, after all.

            Harry smiled at them, and prepared to move.

*

            Father, Mother, what are you doing?

            Draco had thought that his parents would probably demand to see Harry’s magic at some point. Yes, Draco could sense the lazy swirls of energy around Harry’s body when he moved, but he thought that came from long experience of him.

            Long experience? It’s only been a few weeks.

            But that was longer than his parents, who hadn’t seen Harry since the Death Eater trials after the war, had. And Harry had come in the front door like someone normal, had accepted the wine that Narcissa had offered, had been as polite as he could be before that remark about manners.

            It made sense that Lucius would decide to test Harry’s power, to see whether this “Lord Potter” deserved the title he had claimed.

            Draco only wished it hadn’t been in front of him, and while they were eating. He tensed subtly, ready to move if he had to, and waited.

            “I don’t have any wish to change the food, Mrs. Malfoy,” Harry said. Draco winced. He’d never heard that particular crystalline tone in Harry’s voice before. He was pretty sure that he didn’t want to hear it again, either. “I don’t recognize it, but life is all about trying new things. Since you’ve gone to so much effort to entertain me, though, I feel it would be remiss of me not to offer you some…entertainment in return.”

            He snapped his fingers. Draco supposed he was the only person in the room—well, the only Malfoy person—to feel the way that the lazy ripples floating around Harry suddenly concentrated on him, ringed his neck and throat, and then spread out from there, no longer ripples but arrows, heading straight for the mantle and the fireplace.

            The fire leaped from the logs and into the room.

            Draco saw his mother start to her feet, saw her hand rise, and knew how much she would hate that later. Rather than sit back down and make it obvious how ashamed she was of her outburst, however, she remained standing, one hand locked and white-knuckled on the back of her chair. The best choice she could make, Draco reckoned.

            He wondered if she even noticed the way that she pressed the back of her other hand to her mouth.

            The fire spun lazily above the carpet, grew hands and feet, and stretched and elongated into a shape not unlike a house-elf, but much taller. Around it spread a flowing cape of flame, held back from burning the carpet and wood it crouched on by nothing, Draco knew, other than Harry’s will. Then the colors changed, so that rather than mostly red and gold and orange occupying the fire, it burned blue and white, pure, heated colors.

            Harry bowed to the flame-giant in the center of the room. “Will you please dance to entertain my hosts?” he asked, voice so like Lucius’s at some important function that Draco wanted to laugh.

            The problem was, only Harry would get the joke. So Draco bit his lips ferociously and did his best to sit quiet.

            The flame-giant bowed back, in a long inclination that Draco thought imitated the way a fall of sparks would settle into the fireplace, and then began to dance. The long cloak swept behind it, creating small white triangles that glittered and sparkled in the center of the dining room. Its hands fluttered down embers from near the ceiling, which always faded before they hit the carpet. Draco knew how impressive just that level of control was from Harry’s magic, and wondered if his parents did.

            Narcissa had sat back down. From the expression on her face as she watched the giant dance, Draco thought she might know.

            Lucius’s face reflected nothing at all in the brief moment Draco dared to glance at him.

            The giant began to spin faster and faster at a soft gesture of Harry’s fingers. Its body thinned, until it looked so much like a column of pure flame that Draco struggled to see human features in it at all. At the same time, it shrank, concentrating the glare. Draco didn’t put a hand over his eyes so that he could see better, but he was tempted.

            In the end, what looked like a lump of diamond and sapphire crouched just above the center of the carpet, radiating beauty. Harry clenched his fingers. Draco thought he was the only one who heard the small huff of effort that escaped him.

            The fire leaped up once more, divided in two, condensed, and then began to fade. Draco turned his head, expecting to see the flames return to the dead, cold log on the hearth.

            That didn’t happen, though, and when he turned back to the center of the room, it was in time to see two small objects lifting up. They were round, and spun through the air like huge rings as they sped towards Harry.

            Harry caught them up and stood with a small bow, turning towards Draco’s parents. The rings dangled from his fingers. Draco caught his breath. They were made of—was it truly concentrated flame? Solidified flame? They shimmered with all the colors that had played in the flame-giant’s body when Harry made it dance, anyway, subtle ripples of gold and red following deeper ones of blue and white, with a trace of orange here and there.

            And they were not rings after all, but thin crowns.

            “Thank you for your hospitality,” Harry said smoothly. “I wanted to offer you these as a token of mine.” He spread his fingers, and the crowns lifted away from his hands, one drifting towards Lucius, one towards Narcissa.

            Draco thought he was the only one who saw the muscles in his father’s neck clenching and knew the massive effort it took him not to flinch. Narcissa, since she was taking the lead in testing Harry today, was the one who looked him in the eye and asked, “How do we know that they will not burst into flames and consume us if we wear them?”

            Harry’s face flowed and changed like flame itself, and he smiled at her. “Because the fire is held in check by my will, and I wouldn’t consume people so important to Draco,” he answered, and his eyes found Draco’s over his parents’ heads.

            Draco swallowed and nearly closed his eyes to keep from being singed. The smallest part of him, he had to admit, had wondered where his flame-crown was. But Harry’s gaze had given him the answer. Harry needed no flame-crown to mark Draco with his affection, his strength, and his protection.

            “I see.”

            Draco blinked and looked up. That was his father, speaking for nearly the first time all evening. Lucius stood and put down his goblet, and then reached out to curl his fingers around the crown floating near his eye level.

            Draco held his breath. The coronet looked fragile, as if it could be broken with a single yank. And he suspected that only ashes would mark its passing.

            But Lucius slid the crown over his hair. A moment later, the one Harry had designed for Narcissa was also on her head, and Harry was appearing a bit bemused, which looked wonderful on him. Then again, Draco had yet to find an expression that didn’t.

            Lucius bowed to Harry, shallowly, but enough to differentiate real respect from false, Draco knew. “Thank you, Lord Potter, for laying my fears to rest, and for your gift,” he said. “Let us sit down and continue our meal.” He looked at the hearth and frowned. “Although I fear that we will need to call house-elves to relight the fire.”

            “No need.”

            Harry breathed over his fingertips, and sparks whooshed to life in a rainbow-like arc, settling from his nails onto the logs. Once again they burst into life and heat, and Harry sat down in the seat Lucius had designated for him. Draco, taking pleasure in his secret knowledge, saw his legs tremble, and knew that Harry wouldn’t be able to use much magic for the next hour or so.

            His parents only smiled.

            He won them the best way he could win them, Draco realized abruptly. By proving to them that he cares for me, and that they’re important to him because they matter to me.

            Dinner was full of pleasure, after that.

*

            kain: Harry thinks of the Malfoy family as appendages to Draco. He wouldn’t ask Ginny or any of the people they victimized to be friendly to them, but he’ll do it to make Draco happy.

            You will see interaction between Briseis and Hermione at some point, yes.

            LeaniaSTL: I hope that you liked the way the dinner party went! Lucius is making the challenge to Harry much more direct than he would otherwise, because he really wants to know Harry’s intentions towards his son. Well, at least he should be satisfied now!

            delia cerrano: Thank you.

            SP777: Thanks.

            Harry couldn’t appear at a party with Draco unless and until he has a critical mass of supporters. Draco isn’t really supposed to be associated with him in public yet.

            unneeded: I hope the link I gave you to the group might help.

            Draco is peeved, but he understands why Harry had to go out and handle the Aurors.
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Easy as Falling