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The Guile and Devotion of a Black Heir	By : StarLightMassacre Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male Views: 104291 -:- Recommendations : 9 -:- Currently Reading : 26
Disclaimer: I do not own anything from Harry Potter; all rights go to J. K. Rowling. I make no money for this piece of fictional writing and never will.

Chapter List
- 5
- 6
- 7
Last Time
No, he would never have chosen Lucius Malfoy of all people, but after seven weeks spent in his home and four months now of being ‘a Malfoy’ he had to admit that it really wasn’t that bad. He was happy, he was looked after, everything he needed or wanted was given to him, he was a lot more protected now and he had a family to call his own. Things could have been better, he knew that, but looking back at where he had come from, he also knew that things could also be a hell of a lot worse. He was happy with the Malfoy family and he was very happy with Rabastan. Things would work out for him, because he’d force them to if he had to and it was with that thought that he got out his parchment and ink and he calmly and cleverly replied to his three letters. If they were testing him, he wouldn’t let them win, and if they were just genuinely curious and concerned for his wellbeing and his stance on things, as difficult as that thought was to believe, well, so much the better.
Chapter Six – Conscious Realisation
Rabastan Lestrange often thought of himself as a cold, unfeeling man. Even before Azkaban had stripped him bare and had ruined him down to his very soul, he had been cold and uncaring of almost everything that didn’t actually relate to himself.
He’d had countless trysts before Azkaban, he was a Pureblood from a prominent family, he’d been young, fit and handsome and his inherited body musculature hadn’t hurt either. He could still remember countless people, men and women both, and even a few who could only be classed as boys, crying and sobbing as he informed them that everything he’d told them had been lies, just to get them into his bed.
It had naturally started at Hogwarts. His older brother had often regaled him with tales of his trysts with women the night before, laughing as he saw their wet, red eyed faces over the following weeks and Rodolphus had been so…joyful. He had liked hurting those girls. He had told Rabastan that he liked the power that it gave him, so he had naturally emulated his older brother and he had done the same. Only he hadn’t limited himself to just girls.
He had made something of a reputation for himself while in Hogwarts, but he’d been at his worst when he was in his late teens and graduated from Hogwarts.
He still remembered the face of the one woman, a mere mudblood he had slept with just to amuse himself. He had made a grave mistake and he’d strung her along for a month, listening to her babble about how they were going to get married and have a family together. As if he would have even considered embarrassing and lowering himself to marrying a mudblood, to think that she had thought that he would ever sully his bloodline by having a child with her. But she had amused him greatly, so he had kept her for longer, which she had taken to interpret as true love, insisting to her friends and family that he was a changed man and that he was going to stay with her and start a family with her.
He still remembered the day that she had told him that she was pregnant. He could still feel the horror and the disgust, how had he not been more careful, how? He had told her then and there that she was mere amusement for him, that he would never lower himself to marry a mudblood and she was a fool for even thinking such thoughts. When she had been in tears and begging on her knees in front of him, pleading for him to reconsider for the sake of their baby…that had been when he’d ripped his wand out of his holster and slashed his wand over her midsection. The curse that his Grandfather had meticulously taught and instructed him to cast, just in case there were any unsavoury ‘accidents’ in his youth, had insured that the baby within her was no more, whether it truly was his or another man’s, he didn’t care, he would not bear the shame of an unworthy mudblood carrying his child. A bastard child no less.
He had left that woman, her name and face eluded him now, on the floor of her small, ratty home and he had never seen her again. He had never played the game again. He had realised exactly how dangerous it had been. If she hadn’t believed that they would be married, that they were in love and that he had changed. If she hadn’t told him that she was pregnant right away…if he hadn’t strung along that game for his own amusement, then he might have had the utmost, compounding shame of a bastard, halfblood child in the world. The embarrassment of such a thought stung him even now. He had never told his Grandfather or his brother about that mudblood and for as long as he lived, he never would, that haunting secret would go with him to the grave.

His trysts had trailed off after that, his Grandfather had been pleased, thinking that he had finally grown up and in a way, he had. He’d realised exactly how dangerous the little game he’d been playing was and he’d stopped immediately. All of his trysts over the following three years before he was thrown into Azkaban were carefully chosen, and were mostly men. He would never have a bastard child, ever.
His roundabout thoughts brought him to Harry and he fingered his new cufflinks holding the cuffs of his shirt closed. He loved them, they reminded him of Harry in a way, smooth silver ovals with a ripple of green through them that sometimes exploded with colour and made green shadows dance on the walls when the candle light bounced off of them. Plain, simple, elegant and utterly unique.
He twitched hard and clenched his regrown teeth together, fighting the aftershocks of smaller twitches and ticks that followed. How could Harry even stand to look at him? He’d seen himself in the full length bathroom mirror. He had seen the damage, the wastage that Azkaban had inflicted on his body. He was ugly, inside and out, what would a boy as young, beautiful and as powerful and influential as Harry want with a broken man who couldn’t even write a letter properly?
Harry was a kind, soft person, he deserved someone better than himself, but he was a selfish person also and he always had been, so though he knew that Harry deserved much better than himself, there was no way that he was going to give Harry up. Though now that his Lord was actively seeking for their marriage, he would have been unable to break off his betrothal with Harry, even if he had the inclination to do so, which he definitely didn’t.
Harry was different and not just because he was someone influential and from a good family, in a roundabout way. He hadn’t just slept with mudbloods or sluts of no proper bloodlines or import in his youth, he had slept with Pureblooded men and women as well over the years and he had treated them all the same, he had played with every single one of them. He didn’t know why Harry was different to everyone else, he just was.
He wasn’t sure if it was because of Azkaban, or if it was because he was the ruin of a man who was hideous to look upon and yet Harry was so beautiful and he looked and smiled at him like he was still in his late teens, with his perfectly fit body, his handsome face and all of his hair.
Harry treated him like he was still normal where other people recoiled in horror and disgust. Some of them had even dared to sneer and hiss comments about his appearance, though he got a feeling that they were the people that he had played his games with in his youth. He couldn’t be sure because Azkaban had blurred the faces of all of them.
But Harry looked into his eyes, Harry sat next to him and kept eye contact and he didn’t recoil away. Harry touched and held his withered, skeletal hands with their peeling, brittle nails with no sign of disgust. Harry spoke to him like a person, not like a cripple on his deathbed. For some reason he couldn’t actually fathom, Harry wanted to marry him, he wanted to have children with him and he couldn’t understand it.
He might have thought that Harry was blind, but he had stared deeply into those beautiful, magnificent, eyes for long enough to know that that most definitely wasn’t the case. Harry wasn’t blind, Harry saw him and Harry still wanted to marry him.
He might have thought that Harry had been paid by someone, anyone, to marry him, but Harry had enough in the way of money in his own right, he had inherited the stagnant Black and Potter vaults, which would have made him considerably wealthy in interest alone, even if he didn’t know that both vaults would have been piled high with gold to begin with.
He might have thought that Harry had been forced or blackmailed into being with him, but from what he had learnt of the fierce, feisty boy, that most definitely wouldn’t have been the case. Rabastan doubted that the Dark Lord himself could blackmail or force the boy into anything and he liked that thought. He needed a strong partner, one who wouldn’t let him call all the shots, one who wouldn’t let him walk all over them, otherwise his own marriage would turn into one of his games…one that he’d be unable to get away from and he didn’t want that.
Harry was perfect. He was young, beautiful, fertile and strong. Everything that Rabastan had always wanted, and needed, out of a partner. Everything else was just a bonus, his wealth, his power and social standing, his kindness…that smile that could infect a room and never failed to make his own thin, rough lips curl into some semblance of a smile. The tiny, soft hands that would hold his own without care, that would comfort him through another twitch. Those big, beautiful eyes that crinkled around the edges when Harry smiled from ear to ear. That infectious laugh that had been tormenting him in his dreams.
He needed to see Harry again and soon. He hated that his young Husband-to-be was so very far away from him at the moment and almost completely unprotected. He wanted Harry with him, by his side so that he could look after him. He wanted to talk to him face to face, but he was unable to and that frustrated him.
He tried to keep busy, the meticulous designing of Harry’s engagement ring was taking up most of his time, but the ache to see Harry, to hold him, was growing bigger and deeper by the day and every letter he received resonated inside of him. He wanted Harry in his arms and in his bed. Yet he couldn’t do the latter even if Harry was there with him! He was physically incapable at the moment because he was a ruin of a man and he wouldn’t even be able to pick Harry up, let alone carry him to his bed and show him exactly how much he meant to him.

It was likely a good thing that the wedding was so far away in the future, because there was no way that he and Harry would be having a proper wedding night until he was much, much stronger and at the moment he struggled to stay standing for more than half an hour at a time…it would be many months, maybe even a year or more, before he would even be able to unleash his passions on Harry, but fuck he couldn’t wait for that day to arrive, it really could not come soon enough he thought as his mind raced around the images of Harry, and the tantalising fantasies he created and the whimsical wondering of what Harry might look like fully undressed and spread out on a bed. His bed. He grinned happily, it wouldn’t be long now. These next few years were going to fly by.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ X
Harry couldn’t have asked for worse conditions for flying. The rain was sleeting down in a mush of part rain and part snow, making visibility near impossible. It was freezing cold and his entire team, including him, were shivering so hard they were actually vibrating, making movement difficult. It was wet, which compromised their grips and they were playing Slytherin, the dirty bastards.
Harry had already waterproofed his glasses so that he’d be able to actually see, but it was about all he could do as he led his team out onto the soaked, muddy pitch.
Urquhart was waiting for him with the rest of the Slytherins. They jeered as Harry led his young team out to face them, but Harry had done well with them and their small, determined faces started up at the bigger, taller Slytherins in outright defiance.
“Captains, shake hands!” Madam Hooch demanded and Harry thrust his hand out for Urquhart to try and crush. The Slytherins were so predictable. It was why he wore steel boned gloves for Quidditch. That and it made clasping the snitch easier.
Harry watched with amusement as Urquhart tried and failed to crush his fingers. He took a moment to look around the stadium as they got into position and smiled as he spotted Lucius in the teachers stand. He’d said that he would be coming to watch him and Draco play together for the first time.
Harry looked to his brother and smiled wider at the sodden blond hair that was plastered all over his pale, pointy face. He was sure he looked no better, but he didn’t much care about how he looked, not as much as Draco did.
He straddled his broom and waited for Madam Hooch to blow her whistle after releasing the bludgers and the snitch before he kicked right up into the air like a popped cork. His broom was so fast that Harry was up and gone, looking for the snitch before the game had even really began.
The wind drove the breath from his lungs and the rain stung at his skin, but he was so happy up here on his Firebolt and playing the game that he loved.

“Are you sure you can actually see anything?”
Harry turned to laugh at Draco, whose hair was all over his face and his cheeks were stained a brilliant red from the wind. He was shivering on his broom.
“Of course. I can see fine. You, however, look like you’re going to drop dead at any moment.”
“Your young team look despondent.”
Harry snorted. “They look like bedraggled puppies, you mean. That doesn’t mean they’re not determined to win. They’re going to be fine, you’ll see.”
Draco huffed and sped off and Harry laughed at having rattled his brother’s cage. He looked around for any hint of the snitch, but despite what he’d said to Draco, he could barely see three foot in front of him thanks to the wind and rain.
He couldn’t even hear the commentary over the gale force wind gusting past his ears. He was soaked to the bone and sure that he was going to get a cold from this…or pneumonia.
He had no idea how long he’d been flying and searching for the snitch when he heard a shrill, amplified, whistle pierce through the wind. He snapped his head around, his heart in his throat and he only relaxed when he realised that it was a call for a time out…Draco hadn’t caught the snitch before him. Fuck, he’d never be able to live that down if Draco caught the snitch, especially not with Christmas just a few weeks away…the holiday that he’d be spending at Malfoy Manor. No, he had to win this game or he was going to have to spend Christmas locked away in solitude.
He landed under the Gryffindor bleachers and looked at his wet, miserable little young ones. They were huddled together like the puppy pile he’d envisioned when talking to Draco. He couldn’t help but smile as he cast a heating charm over them all.
“How are we all doing?” He asked.
“Urquhart called the time out, the sloth.” Katie sighed ill temperedly. “We’re twenty points up, it’s too close, Harry. We need the snitch.”
“I’m working on it, I swear. Unless it flies up my sleeve though, it might be a long game, just hang in there guys….and girls.” He added, remembering Oliver’s ribbing when he’d forgotten the girls. “This rain can’t last forever and we’re ahead, let’s keep it that way and try to survive this game. I think Pepper-Up potions all around after we’re done here and hot chocolates of course.” He added with a grin.
His two young Beaters slapped hands in a high five and Harry smiled at their antics.
“A spoonful of sugar and all that. Medicine first though.” He said with a face.
“As long as you lead by example, Captain.” Demelza teased him.
“You know I will. It just means that I’m the first to get my hot chocolate.” He said with a laugh.
Madam Hooch approached them and Harry gave her the double thumbs up to indicate that he and his team were ready to get back into the air and back to the game. She nodded and Harry turned serious for a moment.
“Game faces now, people. Katie, you, Demelza and Sarah keep up what you’re doing. You’ll be alright, I trust you.”
“We trust you to catch that snitch too.” Katie told him and Harry nodded.
“Jimmy, Ritchie, you two are doing good too, I saw that bludger smash into one of Slytherin’s Chasers.”
“That was me!” Jimmy Peakes said excitedly.
“Keep up moves like that.” Harry encouraged. “Try and take out the Keeper and the Seeker.”
The two boys’ faces fell. “But the Seeker is Malfoy, everyone knows that he’s your brother now. So he’s off limits.”
Harry laughed. “Do you think he’s going easy on us because I’m his adopted brother? No, there is no mercy in Quidditch. He’s my brother off of the pitch, on it, he’s the opposition. You take him and the Keeper out.”
His Beaters nodded their understanding and Harry nodded back curtly.
“Pauley, you’re doing brilliantly.” Harry told the young, sodden Keeper.
“I’m letting too many in.” He sniffled and Harry got the distinct feeling that it wasn’t just raindrops wetting his face.
“You’ll let even more in if you dwell on it.” Harry told him seriously. “You’re a second year, Pauley. This is your first year on the team and your very first official game and you’re facing older, larger people throwing Quaffles at you and these are far from perfect conditions. Let it go and concentrate on saving the next throw. You’re doing fine and it doesn’t matter how many you let in as long as you’re practising and trying out a few of those moves we made up. I told you, this team is in it for the long haul, in a few years you’ll all be world class and ruling the inter house matches, until then practice, practice, practice. Now let’s get back out there and give Gryffindor a brilliant Christmas present by smashing Slytherin to smithereens.”
His team cheered and Harry quickly led them back out into the sleeting rain that seemed to be coming down harder than before. Harry cursed internally.
The game started off again and Harry searched harder when he saw Draco doing the same. He was at a huge disadvantage because he had glasses and Draco didn’t need them. He had perfect vision without the help of glasses.
Harry dived several times, but Draco never fell for his bait and Harry calmed himself, if he got angry then he would miss something or he’d be too tense to fly on a hairpin.
As the game carried on, becoming more brutal as he lost poor Demelza to a bludger and almost had his own head taken off by another, Harry knew he had to finish this game and soon. The sleet was getting heavier and harder and it was becoming more solid as it turned more to snow than rain, which was hindering everything from vision, to manoeuvers, goal shots and saves.
Harry went higher and looked down at the match from his vantage point and he took a moment to breathe, the sleet driving into his back so that he wasn’t inhaling water and partially formed snow.
A flash of gold was all it took and Harry was there one moment and gone the next, following the snitch, getting a face and nose full of snow, the wet and the wind biting at his face, making his skin sting, but he ignored all of it as he chased after the tiny speck of colour in the otherwise grey background.
He dodged players and balls alike, he was joined moments later by Draco, who tried to barge him off course with his bigger, heavier and broader body, but Harry urged his Firebolt faster and he laughed in joy as he closed in on the snitch, following it as it darted left and then dived down into a vertical rush of air that made Harry’s eyes water. The snitch pulled up five feet from the ground and zig-zagged away, just under the playing level of the Chasers.
Harry dodged under Sarah and then went over Ritchie as he chased down the snitch, Draco dogging his heels all the way and Harry gritted his teeth as the wind turned violent, ripping at his Quidditch uniform as he turned against the wind. He wondered how the fuck the snitch was even able to fly in these conditions.
His heart was in his throat, his excitement and anticipation was ramped up and he threw himself after the snitch, putting his absolute all into catching that tiny golden ball. He was panting when his hand finally closed around it. He almost let it go again, the tiny ball was ice cold and the exposed tips of his fingers burnt and stung where they touched the ball, but he clamped it tight in his hand until the silver wings folded over and lay quiet.
He was so happy and he rushed to his team and they converged on him, laughing and thumping him on the back. He was so cold that he could barely feel it, but he didn’t care.
“Let’s get back to the locker rooms and out of these wet uniforms!” Harry shouted out happily.
“Do you think you can come out of your private rooms for long enough to celebrate with us?” Katie ribbed him.
“After we’ve all gone to see Demelza in the hospital wing.” He said with a nod and he led them all back to the Gryffindor locker rooms.
He, Jimmy, Ritchie and Pauley went into the boys section and Katie and Sarah went into the girls section. Harry stripped off without caring, he was so cold there wouldn’t be anything on show anyway as he all but moaned as he stepped under the hot water.
He was joined by the three younger boys and they were all shuffling around self-consciously and Harry sighed.
“We’re all boys, we’ve all got the same parts. Just get under the water and warm up before you freeze to death.” He told them sternly as he stood under the spray and felt the tension ease out of his muscles.
“It’s embarrassing.” Jimmy muttered with pink cheeks.
“Why?” Harry demanded, turning around to see the three of them all trying to hide not only their cock and balls but their arses as well. He rolled his eyes. He wasn’t much for public nudity, hell he wasn’t happy with any nudity at all, not with his scars and blemishes, but he was freezing cold and he wanted to warm up. Besides, after seeing Rabastan and Rodolphus…things could always be worse and if he started bitching about his body when his betrothed had survived fifteen years of starvation and malnutrition in Azkaban, how the hell would Rabastan feel about his own body then?
“It just is.” Pauley grumbled, but he couldn’t help but give a furtive glace to Harry before his cheeks pinked and he turned away quickly.
Harry sighed. “You do know that it’s natural to look, don’t you? Curiosity is normal and there is nothing wrong or dirty in looking. When I was a tiny, scrawny eleven year old and I was allowed onto the team, I didn’t care about anything because I was so happy to play. Then I noticed that the older boys were looking at me while we showered, naturally I was very freaked out about it…so I asked Fred and George Weasley why they were looking at me and they just shrugged and told me that it was just curiosity. That was when my own curiosity was peaked and I looked at my team mates as well the next time that we showered together. We all had a good laugh about it and then we got dried off and dressed and went to celebrate as normal. It’s normal, guys.” Harry told them, remembering fondly his talk with Fred and George over their shower time antics.
“It’s just embarrassing because….”
Harry actually lowered his eyebrows as he cottoned on to what wasn’t being said.
“You’re worried about size? Merlin! You two are thirteen year olds and you Pauley are only twelve. Trust me, you shouldn’t be worried about something so ridiculous. Your body and size will change as soon as you start puberty and it won’t stop until you’re adults. So take a look at me, at one another and then get it out of your systems because curiosity is normal, let’s get dry and dressed and go to that party.”
The three young boys grinned and they took a moment to check one another out, checked out Harry and then the moment was over as Harry rinsed himself off, grabbed his towel and rubbed himself dry. It was too cold to mess around as he dressed quickly and then scrubbed his hair furiously, before he picked up his wand and cast a drying and warming charm on himself and he sighed as his body, now warm and toasty, relaxed and he was much happier.
The three young boys, also much happier, were messing around as they dressed and Harry grinned as he threw his arms around their shoulders and pulled them back out into the main area of the locker rooms and they met up with the two girls.
They all got under three large umbrellas and they made their way to the castle. Harry led them up the main staircase to the first floor and they went to visit Demelza in the hospital wing as a priority. He was relieved to see her sitting up, a little battered after her run in with the bludger, but no worse for wear.
“Did we win?” She asked them as soon as she saw them.
“Oh yeah!” Ritchie said excitedly. “Harry got the snitch! It was amazing, Demelza!”
“Are you alright, Mel?” Harry asked her. “No lasting damage?”
“No, I’ll be just fine. It was a hard hit, but nothing’s broken and I should be out tomorrow. It’s sad that I have to miss the party, but Madam Pomfrey wants to keep me in overnight, just in case.”
“Likely for the best.” Harry told her. “I’ll send Dobby with some party food and butterbeer for you, but make sure you rest and get better. A Quidditch match isn’t worth dying for.”
“I never thought I’d see the day that I’d hear something like that coming from your mouth.”
Harry smiled as he turned to Madam Pomfrey. “I never thought I’d see the day that I wasn’t injured in a Quidditch match. It would have been better if none of us were injured, but I do not miss waking up here.” He said seriously. “But I’ve come to realise that I have my whole life ahead of me, I don’t want to kill or mangle myself before I’ve had a chance to live over a mere school game. Now if this was a professional team in the Quidditch World Cup, now that is an entirely different matter.”
Madam Pomfrey rolled her eyes and checked on Demelza.
“How is she?” Harry asked concernedly.
“She’s going to be just fine. I want to keep her in overnight, just to be sure, but other than that, she’ll be fine to leave tomorrow morning.”
Harry nodded and he and the team stayed with Demelza, each of them taking their Pepper-up potions when Harry asked if they could take them to keep on top of any colds they might have contracted thanks to the game and they stayed until they were kicked out by Madam Pomfrey.
“Come on then, let’s get to the kitchens, send up some goodies for Demelza and then we can go to the party that is no doubts raging like a wildfire in the common room.” Harry said with a grin.
The team made it down to the kitchens easy enough, the younger ones being awed that Harry knew where the kitchens were in the first place, let alone how to get into them, but when Dobby broke away and all but fell on him, that was when their mouths dropped open.
“What can Dobby be doing for Master Harry Potter, Sir?” He squeaked excitedly.
“We won our Quidditch match, Dobby.” Harry said with a grin. “We were just hoping that we could have some snacks and butterbeer to celebrate with.”
The house elves were beside themselves as they pushed several large baskets of food at them filled with cakes, pastries, biscuits, bottles of butterbeer and pumpkin juice.
“Thank you so much!” He said empathetically, knowing that they’d enjoy hearing his praises as several of them sobbed in happiness. “Oh, there was one other thing I needed, if I could ask.”
“Of course Master Harry Potter, Sir! Anything!” Dobby replied tearily.
“One of our team, Demelza. Well, she’s in the hospital wing. Could you maybe sneak her a few cakes and a butterbeer? So she can celebrate with us even though she won’t be at the party.”
Harry had gotten several more wails over that and nods and promises to deliver the cakes to Demelza as soon as the hospital wing was clear.
They left with their arms laden with baskets of food and drink, all talking and laughing happily as they made their way up to the Tower to celebrate their win, exclaiming happily what they were going to eat first once they got there.
That idea fell through though when they ran into Lucius and Draco just past McGonagall’s office on their way to the Gryffindor common room with their arms laden with food.
“So this is where you’ve been.” Lucius said, his mouth a thin line, but his eyes were gleaming with hidden amusement.
Harry smiled. “We went to see Demelza in the hospital wing first. She’s fine, no thanks to that brute of a Beater of yours.”
“I’m not the Captain, Urquhart is and I’d like to remind you that you were the Captain and I almost had my head taken off by one of your snot nosed Beaters.” Draco said, eyeing the thirteen year old Jimmy and Ritchie.
“There is no mercy in Quidditch!” Harry said passionately. “You’re the Seeker, you needed to be taken out. Not that you could have beaten me anyway.”
Draco huffed and rolled his eyes and Harry handed his basket of food to the others and sent them on their way to the common room, telling them that he’d be along a little later.
Harry led Lucius and Draco back down to his rooms and called on Narcissa’s ingrained etiquette lessons and offered them both seats and tea before he sat down himself.

“How are you?” Lucius asked.
“Exhilarated.” Harry said with a wide grin. “A little chilly still, but nothing a good night’s sleep and a couple cups of tea won’t cure. I already took a Pepper-up potion.”
Lucius nodded and settled down more after hearing that he was alright and that warmed Harry in a way that had nothing to do with temperature as he sat in his cosy living room and chatted happily with two people who he had hated not that long ago, but were very rapidly becoming very important to him.
“Everything is prepared for you to come home.” Lucius told them. “Your Mother will be waiting for you at home, but I will be waiting for you both at Kings Cross. I’m sure that Dumbledore will be trying to keep you here for the holidays, Harry. He might even try to force you to go somewhere that you don’t want to be, but the fool doesn’t have a leg to stand on, you are entitled to come home for the holidays. If he tries anything, anything at all, get in contact with me and I’ll come and pick you and Draco up directly from the school at the end of the term. The Lestranges will be arriving as our seasonal guests the day before you come home, to ensure that they are settled into our home before you bring all of your noise and commotions back to the house.”
Harry grinned and he couldn’t help but get excited, only a few more weeks and he’d be able to speak to Rabastan again face to face after four months apart. He was really looking forward to it and he’d missed his betrothed. He wondered, and not for the first time either, how much Rabastan had changed in the four months that he had been in school, how much had he improved, had he gained any weight? Did he look a bit healthier?
Naturally he knew that the process of healing was going to be very long and arduous, he wasn’t expecting miracles. He was intelligent enough to know that when he went home for the holidays that there was going to be minimal change and he knew that if he showed any hint of disappointment or upset over the minimal change then it would ruin any progress that Rabastan had actually made and would more than likely thoroughly dishearten his Husband to be.
That said though, he did want to see some improvements, perhaps with Rabastan’s confidence, or his speech, little things that would show that the slow, gradual process of healing was actually having some sort of effect.
It wasn’t fair, he wanted to be there for Rabastan, he wanted to help him so much, but it was very difficult to do so when he was hundreds of miles away and unable to see or speak to him on a daily basis. He had the overwhelming need to just protect Rabastan from everything, the effects of Azkaban, the struggle that would be ahead of them because of those effects, the Ministry for obvious reasons and from the wizarding public too and then there was Rhadamanthus…oh how Harry was not looking forward to spending Christmas with that man.
“Now, I’ll leave you to your little party.” Lucius told him as he finished his tea and stood to smooth down his robes. “Do try to conduct yourself in a proper manner and remember that your homework is more important than celebrating a Quidditch win with your little friends.”
“I know. I was only planning on staying for a few hours, I’m not going to stay there tonight, I’ll be coming back here. I’ve got most of my homework already done and what little needs to be done now, I’ll sort out tomorrow. How is Rabastan?” He couldn’t help asking.
“He is doing rather well. Him and Rodolphus both. Rabastan is speaking more and though the twitches make things difficult, he is a little more coordinated than he was before. I don’t believe that he would crush your hand again, at any rate.”
Draco snorted and Harry grimaced as a phantom pain had him shaking his hand out. “That’s definitely an improvement.” He said with a small smile.
“I will see you boys very soon, be productive, keep up with your homework, behave yourselves and look out for one another. I will be on the platform for you in a few weeks.”
Harry shut up his rooms and waved goodbye to Lucius and Draco, who would walk their Father out on his way down to the dungeons. Harry went back up to Gryffindor Tower and he used the password that Katie had told him to enter the common room to a raring party and he ducked in and found his team mates. The young ones were very, very happy to be included in the celebratory party, getting pats on the back, slaps to the shoulder and ruffling of their hair. They looked very happy and Harry was proud and pleased with them all.
The party grew in volume when the Gryffindors realised that their winning star Seeker was there at the party with them at last and he was subjected to his own slaps, pats and hair ruffling. He was very happy and joyous and he stayed with his team for the most part. He did get several filthy looks and some who were obviously and blatantly ignoring him, but he didn’t care about his ex-friends. They could do as they pleased, it was absolutely no business of his anymore, just like his own business was not any of their concern either.
He did not stay for too long, as he’d promised to Lucius, but he’d given his all in the match and he was exhausted and in need of a good sleep. Adrenaline and exhilaration could only take him so far. So he had a few butterbeers and a couple of Cauldron cakes as he caught up and had a laugh with the fickle Gryffindors, some of whom had been glaring at him just the other week, but suddenly he was their favourite person once again, just because he’d caught the snitch and led the team to victory.
He really hated the shallowness of people sometimes….then there were people like Katie, who had known him for years and didn’t care. She had been a little concerned, as he himself had been in the beginning, so he couldn’t really fault her for that, but after assuring her that he was fine and happier than he’d ever been, she had been fine with everything and they had carried on and conducted the full scale Quidditch try outs together.
Why couldn’t everyone be as accepting as Katie? Why couldn’t they just be happy for him instead of believing that they had some sort of right to tell him what he should be doing or where he should be living? It wasn’t any of their business, it was his, so they needed to just leave it alone and leave him alone. He was an adopted Malfoy now and he was soon to be a Lestrange.
His eyes sought out Neville in the crowd as he turned to leave for his own rooms and he once again hardened his heart. Neville had nothing to do with this, they’d been on friendly terms once, but even then there had been days where they hadn’t even spoken to one another. Neville had been the one to target him first, not the other way around. Neville had tried to take his trunk with the other Gryffindor boys. He had likely taken and destroyed his things the first two times it had happened as well and he had likely been involved in the attempted destruction of his Firebolt.
Harry clenched his teeth and left the Gryffindor common room. This was his life now and he was going to live it whether anyone liked it or not. They had made the choice to abandon him merely because he’d been adopted, something which had been completely out of his control. They hadn’t even given him a chance to explain anything before they’d gone straight for his throat.
Besides it was none of their business what he did or with who. He could be marrying Voldemort and it still wouldn’t be any of their fucking business. He grimaced at that very thought and almost gagged a little. That most definitely would not be happening, but the thought still stood. He could do as he pleased and it didn’t matter if anyone liked it or not because this was his decision to make and he’d chosen to marry Rabastan Lestrange.
He had chosen to help the poor man despite his evil past and he had chosen to look past the rumours and stories that surrounded him and at the moment, all he saw was a beaten, battered man who couldn’t stand up without holding onto something and couldn’t control his muscles enough to prevent himself from twitching and dribbling on occasion.
Rabastan had never done anything to hurt or humiliate him, in fact, quite the opposite was true. Rabastan made him feel wanted and useful. Harry could talk to him and feel as if someone was actually listening to him for once, instead of just brushing him aside or laughing at his wants and wishes as a mere childhood fantasy. That humiliation still stung. He’d told his friends and those whom he’d thought of as family that he wanted a nice wedding and a large family at dinner one day in Grimmauld Place and the only one who hadn’t laughed and patted him on the head like a toddler who had said something hilarious had been Sirius, who had looked wistful and a little lost, as if he was caught in the past. Thinking back on it now, he had probably been thinking back to his parent’s wedding.
It made Harry wonder, as he stepped into his private rooms and sat on his settee, if they had all laughed and mocked him that day because they’d known that, thanks to Dumbledore’s plans, that it was unlikely that he would ever reach adulthood. The thought made him feel sick and dizzy as his stomach dropped out and his heart lodged into his throat. Had they all known back then that he was being set up to die? He swore to himself then and there, that if they had known, if they’d even had a hint that that was what was going to happen to him, he would never, ever forgive them. In fact, if they had been in on the plans that were setting him up to die, with the way that he was feeling right now, he felt like he could turn around and kill them himself.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ X
The rest of November and into December was dreary and wet. It rained more often than not and it was seriously trying to snow as the slush gave way under his feet as Harry made his way back into the castle after Herbology.
Just two more weeks and he would be going home to meet with Rabastan, who would already be at Malfoy Manor when he got home. He was so excited that he was finding it difficult to concentrate. Not that the teachers cared as they assigned more and more homework onto the sixth years in preparation for their N.E.W.Ts, which wouldn’t even be for another year and a half as the end of year exams for sixth years would be mock N.E.W.Ts, again in preparation for their final year of schooling and the real deal which would then dictate their entire lives after they graduated.
Harry kept up with all of his homework though and he would do as much of it on the train as he possibly could because he wanted to spend all of his time over Christmas with Rabastan, not doing homework for exams that didn’t even really matter. Though he was sure that Lucius wouldn’t see it that way if he came home for the summer with anything less than all pass grades.
He’d received a sweet box, as Draco had, on the first of December and he’d opened it to find a plethora of goodies, including magazines, books, sweets, biscuits and chocolate. He loved that he was being included in this little tradition as he saw Draco opening his own gift box and immediately taking out his favourite magazine, a new issue was released every month and Draco was addicted to it, not that he’d ever admit to it of course.
Harry looked at the newest edition of the Quibbler and he frowned. Why had Narcissa sent him this particular magazine? Sure he found it funny and he liked reading it, as he’d proved at Malfoy Manor by buying a copy and spending the next day laughing over every article in the family living room, but he wasn’t an actual fan of the magazine.
He looked over to the Ravenclaw table and wondered if perhaps the elder Malfoys were trying to tell him something else. Was it alright for him to still talk to Luna? She was Pureblooded after all, so maybe that was what they were trying to tell him. He smiled. He had always liked Luna, even if Hermione hadn’t and her odd outlook on life had always amused him greatly, but he had never teased her about it. He had always accepted her as she was, perhaps she could return the favour and accept him as he was as well. He would really like that because he was getting very lonely and as they got more homework piled on them, Draco got more and more frantic about doing well with his grades and Blaise it seemed was obsessed with his newest conquest, a girl in Ravenclaw who had apparently rebuffed everyone except Blaise, for what reason Harry couldn’t even fathom, but they barely surfaced from whatever bed they’d stolen to lie in to eat meals and attend lessons.
Harry sighed, perhaps he really did need a friend and this was Narcissa’s way of reminding him of that fact coupled with a, sort of permission, to interact with Luna at least. Or maybe he was just thinking about it far too much.
He’d finished his breakfast and carried his treat box back to his rooms. He’d been spending so much time isolated up in his own rooms that it was almost like he wasn’t even in a school, but like he had his own apartment that he lived in alone. It was almost pathetic.
He hadn’t been flying since he’d held a Quidditch practice for the Gryffindor team the other week and frankly, that had been the last time he’d spoken to anyone as well. He was getting isolated and lonely and that wasn’t good for anyone, especially not him.
He made it to the castle and he shook the slush off of his boots before heading right back up to his rooms, the very rooms he had been insisting that he would get out of once in a while outside of lessons or meal times. He sighed and pulled some homework towards himself. He’d go and find Luna, if he could, at dinner time. Until then, he had a lot to be getting on with.
He was almost finished with his homework and he had been contemplating making himself a cup of tea and picking up his newest Ancient Runes book after he was finished with his last assignment when the rings on his right finger heated up and he actually jumped. He cursed and sent a fervent thanks that no one had been there to see him.
He packed away his things, took five minutes to change out of his school uniform into something more respectable and then rushed like hell from his fourth floor rooms to the outside grounds. He missed his first Portkey, but he had just enough time to wipe his sweaty brow and catch his breath before his second Portkey activated and he kept hold of his stomach as he took a measured step forward and took another and then another as his vision cleared and he could see the evening shift at the Ministry. It wasn’t as busy as it was during the mornings, but there were still a few people lingering around, unlike when he’d come here months before on the back of a thestral, in the dead of night, when it had been completely deserted.
“Excuse me, visitors need to present their wand and explain their business at the Ministry!” The security wizard shouted after him.
Harry stopped, turned and looked at the wizard who had chased after him.
“I am Lord Potter-Black and I am not a visitor. A Wizengamot meeting has been called and I need to get there as soon as possible, so if you’ll excuse me, I have a meeting and debates to conduct that are no business of yours.”
Harry turned on his heel and strode towards the lifts, calling one and going to the second level, where the Wizengamot meeting room was.
He slipped into the room and smiled as he saw Lucius had been watching the door and he had been subtly observing him, even as he spoke to Xerxes, and Harry saw the approval in those steel grey eyes as they scanned him from head to foot, taking in his change of clothes, his brushed hair and his unflushed, non-sweaty face.
Harry slipped between the two men and smiled up at them both happily.
“You look far too happy to be here.” Xerxes groused gruffly. “I was contentedly relaxing with a glass of the finest, vintage Merlot with a book that I’ve been having trouble finding the time to actually sit down and read and then this, very late meeting was called.”
“I was just finishing my last homework assignment. I was thinking of getting a cup of tea and breaking out my new Ancient Runes book when I felt my rings heat up.”
“Your last homework assignment?” Lucius questioned. “So you have finished all of them bar the one?”
Harry nodded. “I was just wrapping up my conclusion. I made a few hurried notes on a piece of scrap parchment so I know what my thought process was for when I arrive back at the castle and finish it off.”
“Good lad.” Xerxes praised him, clapping him on the shoulder. Harry only just managed to brace for it and keep his feet. “Basti misses you a lot, he hangs onto every word you write to him.”
It took Harry several moments to realise that Basti must have been Xerxes’ nickname for Rabastan, that of course he wouldn’t use his Grandson’s name in such a public place where any one of the Lords and Heads of Departments could overhear them and he grinned. He couldn’t wait to see Rabastan face to face and now he couldn’t wait to call him by his cute nickname. He did wonder exactly how long Rabastan had had a nickname like ‘Basti’ and he wondered if his Husband to be actually even liked it. He’d have to ask.
“I miss him a lot too. I can’t wait until I get home for the holidays.”
“Yes, your Father has graciously invited us into his home for the festivities. You and Basti can spend your time there together and reconnect with one another after your unavoidable separation, I’m sure.”
“They will have separate bedrooms.” Lucius interjected very sternly and even on the edge of rudeness and Harry had to hide his grin in his sleeve. That had sounded like, and had even felt like, something only a real Father would say and Harry’s heart swelled with joy and devotion. He would never willingly give up this feeling of love and belonging. Never.
“Of course, Lucius! I would never dream of forcing such an issue between the boys when they are so newly acquainted. That will come much further down the line, when they are both ready for it.”
Lucius nodded his head tightly and he placed a hand on Harry’s shoulder and steered him to a chair. Harry grinned harder into the sleeve of his robes for a few moments more before he composed himself and reined in his face splitting grin.
He settled himself in the large, comfortable chair and folded his hands in his lap, waiting for the Chief Warlock to call the meeting to order while he silently observed everyone else in the room. Despite the harsh words exchanged and the tension between them, Xerxes still sat on Harry’s other side, but he pointedly looked in the other direction to Lucius, who was sitting stiffly on his other side. Harry found the whole thing rather hilarious.
“Lords and ladies, if I could call you to order.” Albert Runcorn said just a little bit louder than the ambient noise in the room.
There was no rush for chairs as men and women leisurely took a place at the table and settled themselves down in comfort before giving their full attention to their Chief Warlock.
“Chief Warlock, might I bring something to your attention before we proceed?” A woman asked primly.
“It is unusual, but I shall let your interruption stand, Madam Wilkes.”
“I just wanted to draw attention to the fact that it is ten O’clock at night and there is a sixteen year old in our midst on a school night.”
Harry looked at the frizzy haired witch, the same utter bitch who had voted against him when he’d been illegally given a full trial for a mere case of underaged magic, all thanks to Fudge. He really hated this woman.
“Pardon me?” Harry said in the stunned silence that followed. “I am a member of this Wizengamot. I hold two seats and regardless of what time it is, or on what night, I am required to be here despite my age. I would wholeheartedly suggest, Madam Wilkes, that you leave my business to me. I do not appreciate the input, least of all from the likes of you.”
The witch was blushing to the roots of her very frizzy hair and Harry felt more than he saw Lucius and Xerxes’ smirks. He got the feeling that they were both very happy with him and with how he’d conducted himself as well as what he’d just said.
“You may be able to talk the talk, Madam Wilkes, but you cannot walk the walk.” Albert Runcorn said spitefully. “Please refrain from making such ridiculous observations in this room. If you do not like the way that this Ministry is run, then kindly leave it. Perhaps then we might get down to why we have actually been called here.”
Harry had to hide his smile, especially when all he wanted to do was laugh. Some of the other members sniggered, but none of them laughed and neither Lucius nor Xerxes laughed or smiled, so Harry emulated them both and he kept himself composed and still. He promised himself that he would laugh about this later, once he was in private.
“Now, this emergency meeting has been called because a wizard in Kent has decided to go on a drunken traipse through a muggle city, firing off his wand and his mouth.” Runcorn sighed. “The Obliviators have already been called in, but there is no telling how many people overheard him or who they told in turn, but the Obliviators have done their jobs as best as they can and the wizard in question is in custody.”
“This is completely unacceptable!” One of the Lords burst out, his face already reddening. “These were no secret affairs or bastard children that he was spilling, none of the information was personal to himself. These secrets affect us all, could endanger us all!”
“The man was drunk…”
“It shouldn’t matter if he was drunk or not!” Another Lord burst out, a vein throbbing in his neck. “This is a serious breach of the Statute of Secrecy! This imbecile should be held fully accountable for his actions!”
“I fully agree! Alcohol abuse should not rule him out of answerability of this heinous crime!”
Harry sat and he listened intently. This debate could go one of two ways and it was all down to the Wizengamot and which way they voted that would determine the future of the wizard in question. It took hours upon hours of back and forth debating, some insisting that as alcohol lowered inhibitions that the man couldn’t be held accountable for his actions, but others were adamant that despite how intoxicated the man was that he should still be held responsible for his actions and for the danger that they had put the entire wizarding world in. Harry was getting incredibly tired and slightly irritable as the same arguments were repeated over and over, being slightly reworded each time, yet no one was giving a definitive opinion or solution to the problem.
“Does anyone else have an opinion that they would like to share?” Runcorn asked, wide awake and still alert and sat stiff backed in his chair, despite how long this meeting had already taken.
“He had drunk two full bottles of vintage Firewhiskey, he could barely walk in a straight line. The Muggles have been Obliviated, I say that we let Mister Jute sober up, pay a fine and then we let this matter go.”
“I disagree.” Harry said softly, he was very tired and he couldn’t help feeling nervous as everyone turned to stare at him. This was the first time that he was expressing an opinion on this matter, a matter that was very much in the grey area of the law and neither Lucius nor Xerxes had said anything in this meeting yet either. “This is a very serious breach of the Statute of Secrecy and it cannot be brushed off with a mere fine and a slap on the wrist. Perhaps if he hadn’t been firing off spells as well as shouting the odds about the wizarding world. The latter could be explained away as his alcoholism, or even mental health issues, the former cannot be ignored nor rationalised as the ramblings of a drunken fool. He damaged six cars, several buildings and two people. The DMLE had to wipe out footage from over a hundred surveillance cameras and they had to fix so much damage before any more Muggles saw them and had to be Obliviated on top of the thirty-nine Muggles who had already been Obliviated because of this matter. The two people who were hit with his spells are still in Saint Mungos and they’re not only being treated magically, but they are scared and have no clue what is going on, which could possibly cause deep psychological trauma that could reoccur given the right trigger. This cannot be brushed under the carpet and vintage Firewhiskey or not, this man had the responsibility of protecting the Statute of Secrecy. The same responsibility that each and every single one of us have to our world! This is our secret to keep and Mister Jute should have known better than to go drinking Firewhiskey in a Muggle city. He should not be excused from his serious lack of judgement. My vote is for this matter to be put to the Minister and to trial. My vote is for Azkaban.”
“You cannot be serious!” One wizard exploded.
“I knew you were just a child!” Another shouted out. “A mere child playing at being a man. You shouldn’t be here and you shouldn’t be allowed two votes in such serious, adult matters!”
Harry held himself still and stoic, he forced himself not to react, but inside he was a quivering wreck at being confronted in such a way. Having his opinion ripped to pieces and scrutinised and then ultimately being told that he was wrong, that his thoughts and opinions were wrong and didn’t matter because of his age knocked all of his confidence. It had him running through everything that he had heard tonight and everything that he had said, questioning everything, thinking back to all of the books that he’d read, all of the things that Lucius, and even Xerxes, had taught him and he pulled into himself as he realised that perhaps he hadn’t been ready to voice his opinion on grey areas as much as he’d thought he was.
“Are you going to sink so low as to pull Lord Potter-Black’s age into this matter once more just to try and gain precedence for your own opinion?”
Harry looked to the Lord Shacklebolt, and seriously hadn’t that been a massive surprise, and he took a calming breath as his words sunk in and he realised what was actually going on. This was all politics. He hadn’t done or said anything wrong at all, those bastards had just been trying to make him, and everyone else, think that he’d said something wrong in order to push their own points of view across to the Wizengamot. The fucking underhanded bastards.
“I actually agree with the Lord Potter-Black.” Dawson Shacklebolt continued. “This idiot should not be excused from the crime he committed because he couldn’t handle his Firewhiskey. He endangered us all, he endangered the Muggles and even hospitalised two of them. I agree fully with Lord Potter-Black, this matter should be taken to trial, the Minister should be briefed and Mister Jute should face Azkaban over this matter.”
The meeting room exploded into angry shouts and arguments and Harry took a moment to catch his breath, which he hadn’t even realised that he’d been holding as Shacklebolt had been speaking and he took a tiny glace to either side of himself, even though he had tried not to show such insecurity, seeking reassurance that he hadn’t embarrassed either man. That he hadn’t embarrassed his family.
Both men caught his tiny little glance and reacted accordingly. Lucius squeezed his knee gently and Xerxes touched his back with a slight touch of his fingertips.
“You did brilliantly.” Lucius told him in the merest whisper as he watched interestedly as Madam Amelia Bones jumped into the argument.
“Better than brilliant. You were completely ruthless and I love it. You certainly are coming into your own. Basti will be so very proud and pleased when I tell him. But before that, let’s wrap this up, Lucius. I’m not a young man anymore, I need my sleep and I’m sure that Harry needs his sleep too.”
“This meeting has taken a lot longer than I thought it would. It’s gone midnight and I do have lessons tomorrow.”
“Then let us pass judgement on this meeting.” Lucius said before turning back to the room. “I motion that we vote now.” He said loudly, cutting across the arguing and the shouting. “I vote in favour of Lord Potter-Black’s proposal.”
“As do I.” Dawson Shacklebolt said fiercely.
“I put my vote in favour of a fine!” One of the Heads of Department raged.
“My vote goes in favour of Lord Potter-Black.” Xerxes said calmly.
Harry had to bite his lip to stop his internal grin from showing on his face when the Wizengamot voted in his favour forty-one to just eleven. With business concluded, several members immediately stormed out and Harry rose himself. He gracefully and modestly accepted the handshakes and congratulations on his conduct in the meeting, but he soon excused himself, taking Lucius and Xerxes with him. He was just too tired to stay much longer and now that official business had been concluded and they had to wait for a date for the trial which would include the Minister himself to be set, he was flagging and he seriously needed his bed.
“Come, we need to get you home.” Lucius told him.
“But it’s a school night and I have to get back to the school.” He said, trying to supress a massive yawn and almost walking into a wall because of it.
“Not tonight. I will bring you home with me tonight and you can floo over to the school tomorrow morning with ample time to make your lessons.”
Harry nodded, too tired to argue He just wanted a bed and at the moment, any bed would do.
“He is almost completely out of it, Lucius.” Xerxes chuckled. “Perhaps you should carry him.”
“‘M not that tired.”
“Oh, he’s slurring his words now too.” Xerxes laughed. “I’m too old to be out past midnight and he’s too young.”
“I still look better though.” Harry laughed and Xerxes harrumphed.
Lucius chuckled as they made it to the far side of the deserted Atrium and he said a pleasant goodnight to Xerxes, waited for Harry do the same, before wrapping an arm around Harry’s back and Apparating them to Malfoy Manor.
Harry barely remembered the walk up the stairs as he was shoved gently into his room and Lucius said goodnight to him.
Harry only just had the presence of mind to strip himself down, pull on a spare pair of pyjamas from his dresser and crawl into bed. It took him a few minutes to wind his mind down after the last few hours of heavy debating, but he did manage to remember to have a sleepy chuckle over the frizzy haired bitch, Madam Wilkes. That was proper payback for what she’d done to him in the summer between his fourth and fifth years. He didn’t remember much after that, he remembered chuckling into his pillow and then the next, he was fast asleep, his exhausted body and mind dead to the world.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ X
Harry was forced awake a mere five hours later at just six O’clock in the morning and it was with a lot of grumbling and curses that he climbed in and out of the shower within fifteen minutes and got himself dressed in his cleaned and pressed school uniform. The robes that he’d worn to the Wizengamot meeting were also cleaned and pressed and were hanging up on the door of his, admittedly very large, wardrobe.
He felt slow and sluggish as he stumbled his way down to the family dining room and met Lucius and Narcissa, who were both up, showered and impeccably dressed, talking to one another over their half-eaten breakfasts.
Narcissa chuckled lightly. “Oh, well you look like you’ve been trampled by the Hippogriff.”
“It dug its talons in on the way past and grinded me into the floor with its heels too.” Harry replied grumpily.
Lucius laughed at him as his large, slender hands cupped the mug that he was drinking from. From the smell of the contents it was incredibly strong coffee, which was unusual enough as it was seeing as Lucius never drank coffee.
“I prefer to drink coffee after late nights.” Lucius told him when he caught Harry’s confused, suspicious look. “I find that it gives me the kick I need to convince my body to wake up and get moving.”
Harry laughed at that, properly laughed and he sat smiling as a plate of bacon and eggs was brought out for him by a house elf along with a side plate of toast and a bowl of fruit salad. He thanked the little elf and made himself a mug of strong coffee, hoping it helped him as much as it seemed to help Lucius as he started eating his large breakfast. This was something that he enjoyed too, regular meals. He didn’t have to pace himself because he’d been starved over the summer, he didn’t have to watch out for who came into the room and he didn’t have to worry about having his meals snatched from him on a whim.
“I’m told that you conducted yourself wonderfully well in the emergency meeting.” Narcissa told him and Harry chewed, swallowed and then smiled.
He nodded his head as he looked to Lucius with a grin. “I did have an attack of nerves and I started second guessing myself, but I should have known that it was all politics.”
“He conducted himself brilliantly, Dear. Even Dawson Shacklebolt agreed with his eloquently presented opinion. I am very proud of you and I am proud to call you my son. That Halfblood deserved Azkaban. Imagine firing off spells in a Muggle city, putting us all in danger.”
Harry shook his head. “I can’t believe that anyone would be that stupid and I will not accept lack of judgement as an excuse just because the imbecile thought that it was a good idea to drink two bottles of Firewhiskey before going out into the Muggle world. No, alcohol or not, he should be held accountable for his actions. Let him off with a fine and a warning.” He scoffed. “What a joke, I was trying to save my fat cousin from Dementors and they wanted to expel me from school for trying to save him! There was no way that I was going to let that slide.”
“I actually agree with you.” Lucius told him. “Believe it or not I was livid with Fudge for holding a full Wizengamot trial, minus the Lords of course, as none of them would have accepted such a misconduct, for a mere case of underaged magic. I told him so too.”
Harry smiled. He liked hearing these little things, small truths that proved that Lucius was not the bastard that everyone had always made him out to be. He’d assumed when he’d seen Lucius talking to Fudge after his trial that he was trying to find out the outcome of the trial and if he’d been expelled or not. He’d had no idea that Lucius, as Lord Malfoy, was actually a member of the Wizengamot and should have been told about his trial and should have been present for it. All of that had only come out recently.
Harry finished his breakfast and he stayed sitting and he sipped at his coffee delicately. He still wasn’t used to the taste and this cup was a lot stronger than he’d tried thus far, but it was still a nice coffee. Then again Lucius had bought it, so it was likely going to be the best coffee that Galleons could buy.
He was feeling a little more awake and a little more lively, but he still could have done with another hour, or several, in bed. That meeting had gone on for much longer than he’d ever expected, but then it hadn’t really been a clear cut, black or white decision like the other meetings he’d been called to had been.
It had been an easy decision to make for him because the way he’d seen it had been very clear in his mind, but naturally others had disagreed with him and thus they’d spent half the night debating back and forth.
“I woke you so early because I wished to speak with you before you went back to school.”
Harry nodded, though he had to wonder what this was about. He had the sinking feeling that it was going to be about the Dursleys and not about the meeting they’d just had last night or anything about Rabastan.
He was actually nervous as he made his way to Lucius’ study and he took a seat with Lucius on the other side of the sturdy desk.
“I believe that I’m right in thinking that you already have an inkling of why we’re having this little talk, am I correct?”
Harry nodded glumly. Lucius sighed.
“What have I taught you about using gestures instead of actual words?”
Harry grinned sheepishly. “Sorry, I’m a little slow this morning.”
“I will let it slide for today only then, as a reward for your impeccable conduct last night. Now, onto more serious matters. I’ve been hoping for a chance to sit you down and ask about your childhood since your letter arrived at the beginning of September, would you like to explain it to me?”
Harry chewed on his lip and averted his gaze for long moments before he lifted his head and caught Lucius steel grey gaze for a moment. “I don’t know where to begin.” He said a little overwhelmed by the whole situation.
“Start from the earliest memory you have of this type of behaviour, even if it is something small.” Lucius encouraged.
Harry’s face screwed up as he thought about it. He shook his head and fell back into his old habit of nibbling his lip and the inside of his cheeks.
“I suppose I was about four. They’ve always looked down on me and sneered and belittled me, that was nothing new. Dudley pinched and kicked me whenever he could, but he was only a few months older than me and I fully believe that it should have been Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon who should have stopped that before it escalated, but they didn’t care. They always turned a blind eye where Dudley and his behaviour were concerned. I learned early on that I was different, that I wasn’t the same as them. Nothing compounded that to me more than when Dudley caught me off guard and hit my nose really hard. It was a snap minute decision, I don’t think I even thought about it, I was angry, I was in pain, my nose was throbbing and my eyes were watering from the pain. I hit him back.”
Harry fell quiet as he remembered that day. How he could clearly remember certain things, but other, more inconsequential things were blurry or lost. He could remember the pain of Dudley catching his nose as if it had only just happened, he could remember where they were both standing and exactly what had happened, but he couldn’t recall the colour of his shirt or what day of the week it was. He couldn’t remember if it was sunny, but he did know that it wasn’t raining.
“What happened?” Lucius prompted.
“He ran to Aunt Petunia, she told Uncle Vernon and…and that was the first time that I was smacked.”
“Don’t refer to those people as your family members. They are not.” Lucius told him mildly. “You are a part of the Malfoy family now. Can you remember where you were hit?”
Harry sighed loudly. “My hand. He took my hand and he smacked it as hard as he could before he hit the side of my head and he threw me…he threw me in the cupboard under the stairs.”
“Did he throw you into this cupboard often?” Lucius asked.
Harry nodded. “It was where I slept when I was younger.”
“Pardon me?” Lucius asked in his softest, most deadliest of voices.
“I slept in the cupboard.” Harry said a bit breathlessly. He could feel the icy anger inside of him being stirred awake, like an uncoiling snake that was being prodded with a stick.
“Draco mentioned a bedroom. He said that you had mentioned a bedroom with bars over your window.”
“That was after.” Harry told him, trying to calm himself. “It was after I’d gotten my Hogwarts letter. It was addressed to the cupboard under the stairs and it worried them, they thought that wizards were watching the house. So…so they told me to move all of my things upstairs, into Dudley’s second bedroom.”
“Your cousin had two bedrooms?” Lucius asked, those eyes glinting like a knife edge.
Harry nodded. “It was a four bedroomed house. My Aunt…Petunia and Vernon shared a room, Dudley had two rooms and one was a guest room.”
“Those vile muggles had a four bedroomed house, two of which were free for you to use and you slept in a cupboard?”
Harry nodded. “They did it to punish me. To prove to me, even at that young age, that I was nothing. That I wasn’t worth anything to them or anyone else. They told me lies about my parents and how they’d died as worthless nobodies. They actually told me that my Dad had killed my Mum because he was drunk and that that was how I’d been left with the Dursleys. Orphaned and left over night on their doorstep like a bag of rubbish.” Harry took in a deep breath and calmed himself. “They never wanted me, I was nothing to them and they made sure that I knew it too.”
“Did you hate them even then?”
Harry considered the question seriously. “I think I did, but in my young naivety, I wanted to change their mind about me. I wanted them to like me, love me even, as they did their own son. I pushed myself so hard, I forced myself to complete all the tasks they set for me every day, convincing myself all the while that if I did, then they would love me. They never did. I was maybe thirteen before I stopped caring, though I was eight or nine when I realised that nothing I did would ever be good enough for them. That I would never be good enough. I still wanted them to like me, but I knew that they never would. I could become a self-made millionaire or a world hero tomorrow and they’d still see me as nothing. As the little boy they beat, starved, trod on and locked up like an animal and I will never forgive them for that.”
“I don’t think anyone would expect you to forgive them for that, Harry. I certainly don’t.” Lucius assured him.
“It’s difficult for me to speak of any of this. I never…it’s not something that I ever wanted anyone to know.” Harry said quietly.
“I understand that, but I need you to speak of this, Harry. I need to know what has happened in order to help you.”
“I think I’m dealing with it alright.” He muttered defensively.
“Don’t grumble into your chest, if you have something to say, look up and say it clearly.”
Harry sighed heavily. “I think I’m doing okay. I mean, I’m not completely messed up, am I?”
He hated that his supposed statement turned into a question at the end and he threw his head back against the chair, furious with himself.
“You’re not messed up. You’re surprisingly level headed and pulled together, but there is no doubt that you have suffered and that you are still suffering because of their treatment of you. This anger of yours is perhaps a very good indicator that something isn’t right. You’ve become desensitised to pain and fear because when you live with either for as long as you have, you learn to deal with it in any way that you can, which might not be the healthiest or the best way of dealing with such things, but you learnt to cope. You got yourself through this ordeal and you are perfectly functional, I believe that you have lingering damage from those people still, but you are not messed up.”
Harry felt oddly reassured that Lucius didn’t think that he was messed up and he relaxed a little from his tense, defensive stance.
“Now, if the physical abuse started when you were four and the mental abuse has been going on for as long as you can remember, it is my belief that you may need to see a medical professional so that they might evaluate yourself and help you to deal with anything that might need to be dealt with.”
“No.” Harry said immediately and stubbornly. “I don’t need any Healer poking around and asking questions about what happened in my past. Do you know how hard it was for me to open up to you about these things after the short amount of time we’ve known one another and especially after our own past? How do you expect me to tell actual strangers?” Harry demanded angrily.
Lucius sighed. “I am not a Healer, Harry. I am not qualified to actually help you in a way that will…unburden you of this life time of suffering. If I draw up a solid contract that a highly paid, trusted mind Healer would be required to sign before anything is even revealed to them, would that be more of a comfort to you and reassure you a little more that this is not intended to harm you in any way?”
Harry scowled and he felt like pouting, or doing a repeat of the end of his fifth year when he’d smashed up all of Dumbledore’s spindly, delicate little trinkets. He had the feeling that Lucius would not sit still and just watch as Harry raged around and trashed his study though.
“Harry? This needs to be sorted out. This could be an issue that will affect your betrothal.”
Harry’s head snapped up and he stared at Lucius in teeth clenching anger and disgust.
“You would use my betrothal against me to get what you want?” He demanded icily.
“Me? No. You’ve misunderstood, Harry. I wouldn’t use this against your betrothal. It is in my interests to marry you into such an old, rich and influential Pureblood family such as the Lestranges. If Xerxes finds out and realises that you’re not even having an evaluation when he is pushing Rabastan through all sorts in order to help him recover that little bit faster for the betrothal between you, then he might feel aggrieved and like our family is just mocking his. If anyone is to break the contract between you it’ll be Xerxes or Rhadamanthus, despite the fact that Rabastan is an almost forty year old man, he is not in the best of health and he therefore cannot conduct his own betrothal. His Grandfather is doing it for him and as his actual Father, even Rhadamanthus, despite not being the recipient of the formal contract or the Head of the family, can break the contract if he has a good enough reason. You being potentially mentally or emotionally unstable when Rabastan is in a vulnerable condition would be just the reason Rhadamanthus would be looking for as I don’t believe for a moment that you haven’t realised that he isn’t particularly fond of you or the budding relationship between you and his youngest son.”
Harry was fuming. He was being backed into a corner and he didn’t like it. He didn’t want anyone messing around with his head or trying to tell him how he was feeling or why. He already knew that he hated the Dursleys and would never forgive them and he knew how he was feeling. That was all there was to it. He didn’t want anyone telling him that in order to move on he had to forgive those people for how they had treated him or telling him that he needed to let go. He didn’t fucking want to!
Yet he didn’t want to lose Rabastan over something so simple and trivial either. He didn’t think Xerxes would break the contract over this apparent ‘issue’, but he had no doubts that Rhadamanthus would delight in breaking the contract between him and Rabastan, even over something so ridiculously small.
He seriously hated that man and he wanted to curse him until he wasn’t a threat to him or to Rabastan anymore. He saw it in those oddly pale, cruel eyes, Rhadamanthus would do anything to hurt Rabastan, even if it ended up killing him in the process. He wanted Rabastan to suffer and with the betrothal between them, Rabastan was getting fitter, healthier, better and Rhadamanthus didn’t like it.
He needed to do his all to help Rabastan. If they were married, then Rhadamanthus would have no legal or otherwise claim on Rabastan as he would be considered his own man, even if he still lived at home. If they were married then they would start a main branch of the Lestrange family and Rhadamanthus couldn’t do anything to make his son suffer because Harry would be there and he would absolutely not allow anyone to harm is own Husband, especially not his own supposed Father-in-law. He needed to do this, he needed to protect Rabastan.
“I’ll do it.” He told Lucius softly. “Just make sure that it remains quiet. The last thing I want or need is for the entire wizarding world to find out that I’m seeing a mind Healer, especially after the articles everyone read about me last year in the Prophet.”
Lucius nodded and Harry all but tuned out the rest of the conversation, he answered on automatic as his chaotic thoughts whizzed around his head, distracting him from giving Lucius his full, undivided attention. He was thankfully excused only a little while later so he could floo back to Hogwarts. He chose to use McGonagall’s fireplace rather than Dumbledore’s. He had a lot to think about and he didn’t feel like being questioned incessantly this morning.
He just simply explained about the Wizengamot meeting to a slightly startled Professor McGonagall, informed her that it had run very late into the night so that he had spent the rest of the night at home and then he was free to go to his rooms.
Rhadamanthus was an even bigger threat than he’d believed him to be. Foolishly…incredibly fucking foolishly, he’d underestimated the man. He didn’t know why, he knew that the Lestranges were all dark wizards, he knew what they had done as a family and he knew they were loyal to the Dark Lord. Why had he believed that Rhadamanthus wouldn’t use lethal force to get what he wanted, which was apparently Rabastan’s suffering and eventual death?
Harry wouldn’t allow it. Rabastan was his betrothed, was his Husband to be and was his to love and protect and he did…love him that was. He did and he would not allow anything to happen to the man that he was only just coming to love. He wouldn’t lose Rabastan so soon, he would protect him and they would love one another and they would have a life together. They would be married, they would be a family and they would have children together.
Harry’s back straightened from where he’d been bent over, gathering his needed text books and the required homework that he needed for today’s lessons into his backpack that already had a hard case with his quills and ink inside it.
Would Rhadamanthus dare to harm his and Rabastan’s children? Harry swallowed painfully as he realised that he would, especially if the baby was a girl, because it would hurt Rabastan and make him suffer more and Rhadamanthus was hell bent on making Rabastan suffer.
Harry’s fists clenched tight until his fingers hurt. He was breathing too fast and his head started to spin, but all he could see was Rhadamanthus laughing uproariously as he held the broken body of a faceless infant in his huge hands.
He was almost hyperventilating when he came to his concluding thought. It had been a half thought up plan…something that he had wanted to do, to protect Rabastan more than anything, even if it would make his life so much easier as well, yet he had put it to the back of his mind, because he had underestimated the twisted, warped mind of Rhadamanthus Lestrange.
But now he needed to plan more thoroughly, he needed to do this, not just for Rabastan, but because he had no doubt that Rhadamanthus would target their children as a way to further hurt Rabastan. He could not ever allow that to happen. He was coming to love Rabastan, he would assuredly love him when they married, but his children were his children and he could not, would not, ever allow anything to happen to them. He had to kill Rhadamanthus Lestrange and it had to be done before he and Rabastan were married.

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A/N: Happy New Year, lovelies! I hope that you’re all alright and that you continue to be safe and well in this year now.
I know some of you have complained that I repeat myself a lot. I can’t help this as the points I’m repeating are ones that I want to instil in you readers more than any others and not just that, but the points I’m repeating are often ones that some readers have been unable to grasp and thus are confused about, so I repeat them. And then finally I repeat myself because it’s been weeks since I’ve updated or read through the previous chapters and I’ve just forgotten that I’ve mentioned it, so I mention it again. Of course I’m going to mention Harry’s anguish and confusion over everything that’s happening in his life. I will mention over and over Rabastan’s condition after Azkaban. I will mention how little he trusts Dumbledore and how confused he is with his budding trust with Draco and Lucius. They are important points of the story and I want to make sure that they are being brought across correctly to all readers, not just those who grasp it very quickly and understand immediately.

Now, I believe that that is all, I hope that you’ve all enjoyed the chapter and the start to your New Year’s. I’ll be taking a ‘break’ from this fic now that it’s up to six chapters and I’ll be turning my focus back to The Rise of the Drackens for a bit. It won’t be more than a month or two until the next chapter, but I’ve kept the Dracken readers waiting long enough while I focus on this story, so I’ll be seeing you lovelies in a month or so, until then,
StarLight Massacre. X
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The Guile and Devotion of a Black Heir