Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Diseased	By : Ladygreychaton Category: Harry Potter > Threesomes/Moresomes Views: 3562 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: Do not own Harry Potter, characters, rights to, any books, movies, songs, poems or references made. Harry Potter belongs to J.K Rowling, this is just for fun, with no intentions of profit.

Chapter List
- 6
- 7
- 8
Harry finished off the week with increasing doses of the potion regularly applied twice daily to his whole body. Severus soon feared he would be making a double batch by the end of the month, and informed him that he would need to keep the phial always with him in case his condition worsened.
As it was, he was nearing the time for his return to the Time Corridor, his second week back in time with Lucius Malfoy, and his skin was not faring any better. Irritated and red, it only improved when doused in the thick blue gel. Several times Severus would peel off a thick layer of white skin, scowling in confusion at him. Harry was disgusted, revolted and beyond terrified at his body's current decision to rebel.
There was nothing for it, however, as beneath that layer of white skin was another irritated, but white layer of skin. Nothing different about it than the original he'd torn and peeled off. No physical or visual differences gave a clue to his reaction or affliction. Severus admitted it was highly irregular.
It was this reason that Harry was wearing himself out in the garden beside his father, trying to stretch out sore muscles and give himself something to do other than read books in that stuffy little cottage. Severus had been instructing him on the basics of potions once more, though with a bit more patience and less vitriol, and Harry had proved to be rather interested in the properties and their reactions. The Professor in him felt shamed that he had been forced to destroy such interest, but everyone had a part to play when it came to Hogwarts.
Having their last meal together, Harry had hesitantly slipped into calling Severus 'dad' to see how it felt. The other raven haired male had stilled, seemingly frozen at the word before resuming what he was doing. Those who knew him likely knew that he was beyond touched in the deepest parts of his core, just reacting in ways he knew how. Dealing with emotions, positive emotion especially, was not something he commonly dealt with. It was likely something he'd have to meditate on, consider and respond to later.
Harry smiled to himself, amused that he had managed to shake the other. It was something that Severus rarely showed the world, his true feelings, but the green-eyed boy was beginning to see a lot more of it.
Restless sleep and an early morning, finally being escorted with a tight 'be safe' as Severus left him at the top of the stairs, Harry wondered how the week with Mister Malfoy would go. Severus could not join him in the Time Corridor, and descending the steps this time suddenly felt lonely when it hadn't before. He realized that strangely, he missed the other's company.
This time, he didn't have to reach for the time turner on the pedestal, he knew it was already around his neck. His bottomless bag was at his side with a few extra things from his 'dad', as he'd thus been dubbed.
Carefully, Harry glanced around, wondering if everything was safe or he had forgotten everything before nodding to himself. Reaching inside his loose shirt, he turned the second dial seven times and felt the same lurch as last time. This time, however, there was considerably more color, more movement, more speed. As it was his second jump back, he was more disoriented and stumbled a bit when things bumped to a stop.
Catching his balance on the pedestal, leaning his weight on his right arm, Harry slowly made his way to the door marked with the number '2' on it. It was important that he get there, he needed to get there. His stomach could settle after, he just needed to slip inside that door and wait for Malfoy Sr.
Fingers slid on the knob, twisting it open and dragging his feet inside, he flung the door back, satisfied when it slammed. He didn't care if it was loud, as long as it was shut. Throwing his weight forward, he just barely made it to the end of the bed with a startled, "Ooomph!" sound.
Exhausted and feeling his head spin, he closed tired eyes for a few minutes, feeling himself drift off. Surely Lucius would wake him when he came to get him?
Black clawed fingers carded through his hair, the other hand tracing over his cheekbone. Soft fingerpads as dark as coal left smudges everywhere they touched, possessively smearing across pale skin. It was like being covered in ink, somehow.
"Haaaarrrryyyy," Cooed the voice, fangs lisping and gritting the sound. "Come out and play, Harry! Wouldn't you like to seeee?"
Green eyes fluttered, lashes parting and turning towards the sound. He was in a field of white flowers, something dark above him.The smiling creature was back, the black thing that haunted his dreams. Harry searched for eyes, but it was hard when all of it's features were the same inky shade save for it's white teeth. There was no definition, making it very hard to grasp where eyelids, or even eyes might be at all.
"You... who are you?" The boy whispered, trying not to flinch. There was never any escape from the smiling thing, and it seemed to enjoy teasing him.
"Not very bright, is he? No, no, he isn't. But we shall do our best. That's why we're here, after all, yes it is!" The white smile grew impossibly wide in the black face, almost consuming it whole like a mass of fangs or a gaping wound. It disturbed Harry greatly to see it, not that it seemed to bother the other. "Maybe it would be better if I had the reins? Oh yes!"
"I... I'm not sure what I'm supposed to understand. I just-- am I dreaming? Why do I see..." He gestured abstractly, unsure what he was trying to get at. What did all this mean, what was it about? The words didn't come.
"Doesn't know just what he is yet, does he? Poor thing, he'll learn quickly enough," The creature mumbled, tilting it's head to one side in a strange bird-like fashion and studying the green-eyed boy curiously. "This 'here', that you see? It is your doing. You are the Ego, or maybe the Super-Ego, depending. Not sure on that, but I am your Id. You can call me that, I haven't a name."
The self-proclaimed Id seemed rather proud of itself, gleaming teeth displayed as it smiled.
Gears began to slowly turn in Harry's head, and somehow he knew he didn't have time. The dreams were always short. A memory seemed to bloom out of one of the many surrounding flowers in Harry's direct line of sight, the blossom projecting a sepia-bubble version of Hermione babbling about psychology. 'The Id is the set of uncoordinated and instinctual bases-- another part of your personality. It's fascinating really.'
"Smart witch, that," the Id agreed, seeming to recognize the memory and agreeing with it. "To be specific, this Id is a specific part of Instinct, your instinctual drive. It'll be up to you to figure out what, after all. But I'm your guide and protectorate, of sorts..."
Harry sputtered a bit in confusion. Instincts had always helped him, but he did fine on his own. Why did he need someone-- er... something else helping him now? Leaving him to figure out what on his own? "Why couldn't I just talk to my---"
"Because you can't. It's a part of what you are, Haaarrrryyyy," Id cooed, seeming more amused now.
Id began to cackle in a raspy voice, making the teen more confused than ever. He was just about to ask another question when he heard a strange sound. A doorhandle was turning, a creak on some floorboards by the bed---
Green eyes flew open and he jerked, breathing fast. "Wha-!" Harry snapped, sitting up fast. His heart was pounding and he turned to look around, finding the immaculate as ever Lucius Malfoy standing at his bedside.
"You're looking remarkably more fit than the last time I saw you," Lucius stated smoothly, his tone calm, not at all ruffled. Shouldn't he feel at all uncomfortable here? "I trust your time with Severus has been fruitful and he saw to your health. I have been updated on your meal regimen and your potion requirements, never you fear."
He held out a white-gloved hand, smiling with the same cold, gray eyes as before. Harry was unsure of the situation, but didn't feel any hostile intent from the man. He'd never been particularly afraid of the other Malfoy, always staring him down, but this was an entirely different matter.
But Harry wasn't a Gryffindor for nothing, and he lifted his chin defiantly and accepted the gloved hand. He wouldn't back down, and he wouldn't let anything get in the way of his future. His mother had seen something in this man, hopefully, more than just his lineage, and he wanted to find out what that was.
Harry checked his bag, securing it to his side as he was pulled to his feet. Standing at Lucius' side, he straightened his clothes for a moment regarding the other male with curiosity.
"Where will we be going? Dad... er... Severus had us go to a different part of the cottage. I don't imagine you'll be doing the same, you haven't been staying with the rest of us," Harry admitted his interest.
Pale brows rose, though whether it was over the informal attachment to Severus or Harry's way of thinking, Lucius did not say. The blond man nodded, "No, we will not be staying 'here', as you so aptly put it, we will be staying at my Manor in Wiltshire."
Harry gaped like a fish, then began to shake his head back and forth. "Sorry, sir, but I can't! You see I---"
Lucius seemed to guess what was coming and waved away his concerns with a carefully interrupted speech. "If you are worried about my wife and son, you needn't be. My wife is in France, and she has taken my son with her. They are not due back till mid-August. Draco is visiting various friends and their families; relatives, I expect, and enjoying the festivities that comes with the vacation. I am also quite certain my wife is having her own quiet affair whilst enjoying pampering herself to her dark heart's delight."
The bored tone he affected here seemed to show that none of this bothered him, despite the fact that Lucius had mentioned his wife possibly having an affair. If anything, he seemed to expect and accept it as just dues. Did he really mean it? Or was he only joking? Harry was confused, filing away this information for further consideration at another time.
Wetting his lips, he hesitantly reached for Malfoy's arm once more. "If... if you're sure it'll be safe and no trouble, then?" He ventured.
Lucius smiled a winning smile, smoothing his features a bit but still managing to look somehow predatory. It was the sort of look the boy had expected a Dark Wizard to affect, and it suited him. Harry was constantly reminded of the power this man, his seed-father, wielded.
"But of course!" He agreed, tucking Harry's hand into the crook of his elbow with careful hands. "Now, hold tight for we are going to be apparating to Malfoy Manor. I have been told that you have some difficulty with apparation, so I have a stomach soother on my person for afters."
Suddenly, Harry felt as green as the eyes he had inherited from his mother. "Ohh, I hate that one," He groaned, remembering how he had arrived at the cottage. Portkeys and apparation were not his favorite mode of travel, not by far.
Lucius simply pulled him closer to his side and there was a small 'crack!' then the fierce sensation of him being sucked through a tube that was much too small and bounced about. It was quickly over, however, and Harry was left stumbling as he unlatched to fall gracelessly onto marble floors, emptying the contents of his stomach and heaving repeatedly.
His head was pounding and his vision was fading in and out, black spots blinking swimming in front of him. Moaning in despair, the teen was barely aware that he was being lifted and a potion was being poured down his throat, coaxing him to swallow. Voices rumbling, the 'poof' of a house-elf and the sudden vanishing mess beneath him. Slowly, Harry began to settle back into reality, albeit a distorted version in Malfoy Manor where his head throbbed like he had been attacked by rogue bludgers.
"Severus was not exaggerating, you really are powerful if that is your reaction to apparation," Lucius observed quietly. His grays were still and he stood off to the side, leaning against the wall. "Nevertheless, we shall have to work on that, we can't have you showing a weakness like that. If someone were to find out about your reaction, they could use it against you. You would be incapacitated while you were transferred via magical travel, this is something we'll want to avoid."
Harry was confused. Was Malfoy wanting to help him, train him? Or was he only hoping to gain something from this? Really, one could never tell and that little speech left little room for his motives. But, he was making a bit of sense, and his instincts were not warning him to run, so he supposed he'd stay for now. Perhaps one day he'd figure out just what Lucius felt under that icy facade.
"Would you like a headache potion and perhaps a bit of a calming potion? I can have Twiddles get you them from our private supply before we have a quick tour and go over our schedule," Lucius offered, gesturing to the silent house-elf that was twisting its ears nervously.
"Ah... yeah, a headache potion would be nice, but no calming potion. They interact weirdly with the blood potions and I can't, well... it's just not a good idea, trust me," Harry offered, shaking his head and then quickly regretting it. Wincing as his temples pounded harder, he reached up to steady his aching head.
"Indeed? I shall keep that in mind. No calming potions, but Twiddles, a headache potion for the young master," Lucius ordered, reaching out a second later, expectantly holding his hand aloft. The indentured magical servant seemed used to this, and the thing squeaked, 'poofing' back with the acquired item.
Harry quickly unstoppered the phial when it was passed to him, downed it, not even bothered by the vile taste and thanking whoever had made it (probably Severus, now that he thought about it) for the wonders of Potions. His head settled, the blood seemed to flow better, and he could think clearly. It was enough to make him sigh in gratitude, once again grateful for magic's existence.
Green eyes looked around for the house-elf to thank it, Twiddles if he remembered right, only to find it had disappeared. Confusion marred his face, wondering why the other was reacting this way. After all, Dobby had practically worshipped him. What had changed?
"Looking for Twiddles?" Lucius asked, seeming to guess what the other was thinking, though it was probably obvious as Harry gaped about straining his neck this way and that for any sign of the elf.
"Er... yeah, I was. I just," Harry paused. "I wanted to thank the elf, and I've never seen one run away like that. Granted, I haven't met many, but Dobby liked me. So why is this one... so... so..."
"Skittish?" The blond man finished, looking almost amused. Like the cat who had caught the canary, he smiled widely, offering the other his hand to help him to his feet. Now that Harry had finished being sick, he seemed to deign to touch the boy.
"You must remember, Harry, you are not what you used to be. You have started to come into an inheritance, now. Before, you were mostly dormant. Aside from in dangerous situations, you were mostly just a wizard child. Now... now you are a Cambion. Now, you are evolving into something so much more."
Harry stood carefully with Lucius' help, his puzzled expression furrowing his brow. "But why should that have anything to do with house-elves?"
Lucius chuckled softly. "Harry... a Cambion, a fully formed Cambion can drain magic from anything with a core. From the wards in this house, from the wizards or witches nearby, to a house-elf. Some theorize that Merlin himself might have been a Cambion." He raised a brow, gesturing for Harry to follow, noting that Harry's mouth had dropped open. "Many house-elves would love to be bound to a Cambion as the excess magic bleeds off the creature, feeding the house-elf and offering a powerful contract. The house-elf will have a longer life, more stable magic. Even older elves will be able to cast again, it is a good bond."
He began to walk down a hallway full of portraits of dozens of forbidding blonds, all looking similar to Lucius, beautiful and powerful, but altogether icy and stiff. Malfoys, Harry could easily guess. Family portraits, rather like portraits at Hogwarts. Most of the design seemed to be white, probably their obsession with purity. Oppulent crowned mouldings, banisters, eaves and trimmings all done in careful ivory and gold. Pillars carved to look like Greek goddesses held some of the ceilings aloft, and Harry was astounded by the antique sort of beauty. Archways that lead through hallways to high-ceiled rooms with stained glass windows. Was he in a palace?!
"But some house-elves are afraid of the stories they've heard, about Cambions that will drain their servants, their own house-elves, in a fit of rage. About Cambions that could bring down the greatest of wards so that not even Hogwarts could keep them out," Lucius continued. His eyes had a strange glint to them, though he didn't seem envious. Harry got the vibe that Lucius was... angry?
"Is... is that why so many people call them 'Diseased' and fear them? Because what one or two did?"
For a moment, he didn't think he'd get an answer. Lucius slowed his leisurely stroll, a muscle working in his jaw.
"Yes, something like that. You could say... that it is a bit like dark magic, viewed with a clouded lens. Some spells are forbidden for a reason, only offered to the correct practitioners. Others should not be preformed unless it's a dire emergency, the cost too great." He seemed to straighten further, his lips a stiff line. "But rather than seeing the beauty in the dark, the world would rather blame the few bad seeds."
He stopped, his voice lowered for a moment. "There are less and less dark affinity born wizards into the world, Harry. Even among purebloods, more and more gray natured and white natured wizards are coming to light. This is not a bad thing for blending in, however..." Slate eyes looked over his shoulder. "...We are losing our way. Magic needs balance. That is why we end up with Dark Lords rising, and that is why dark wizards run to him. They are desperate for a leader... even an insane one. By the time they realize just what he means to do, it is too late. A magical contract has been made, and their fate is set."
Lucius closed his eyes. "My own son was born with a gray core. Gray, not dark. He cannot inherit the dark family magic of the Malfoys, nor can he inherit his mother's Black family magic." Blond hair fell like a soft water current into his face, shielding him from view. "I wanted to protect him, and I was admittedly happy when the Dark Lord fell. But Dumbledore will continue to change this world into a Light one. A world where even gray cores are considered too dark to exist. A world where everyone is the enemy, a world where Cambions who just want to go to school and not vomit on my marble floor---"
Harry's lips twitched, appreciating the attempt at humor directed at him during this grave moment.
"...Are just as bad as Voldemort, if not worse." Lucius turned to Harry. "I knew you were mine, and I knew what had to be done. I will do what I can to prepare you, Harry Potter. Together, with your other fathers, I will protect you. I will mold you and care for you. I will give you what help I can until the time comes that you have to face either of them."
Green eyes were wide behind his glasses. This was a snake, a Slytherin, a politician. But he loved his family, and he was doing his best to bear his guts to Harry. None of this could be easy.
"What... what will you be teaching me?"
Lucius smirked, a smooth veneer covering his vulnerability once more. Just like that, Harry wondered if he had imagined the moment.
"Many things, Harry, many things. We will begin with attitude, proper deportment, pronunciation, and above all, posture..."
Harry groaned. Just what had he gotten himself into? He slumped a bit, reaching up to rake a hand through his hair as Lucius began to go on a spiel about why each was important before he finally turned fully to the teen.
"And then, of course, we will discuss your appearance and what we can do about it. Perhaps your eating and dining habits? I don't imagine you've had many chances to properly conduct yourself in fine dining atmospheres, weathering those muggles and of course the Weasley brood." Lucius considered for a moment. "Perhaps we'll go out into society and give you some dance lessons as well, that might help with your posture and spine as well. Something of an advanced practice, I suppose."
Harry wanted to bang his head on the wall, wondering if the detailed moulding had ever seen blood or brains on it. How would this help him? Would any of this actually help him in succeed the future? Frankly, this was more torturous than chopping ingredients in the lab with Severus!
He said as much to Lucius only to receive an amused chuckle from the blond.
"Harry, that's the very idea!" Mused the man. "Mister Harry Potter who lived at Number 4 Privet Drive could not preform these tasks. He would not be able to fine dine, or waltz, nor would he be able to hold his temper and speak with education and class."
Gray eyes were positively amused, slanted and catlike as he leaned down. "But who you will become? Oh, you will be... able to charm, you will have everyone bow to your whim. You will be sharp, as sharp as that quick tongue of yours that so caught me off guard. When you freed Dobby, you proved your worth, Harry. You can manipulate, you can be cunning. It's time to prove that we can use that beautiful mind, put it to good use."
The teen wizard supposed that made good sense. Severus had said something along the same lines, discussing how being Harry Potter would be more dangerous than choosing to be someone new. Being a Prince, to be exact. So, Lucius was going to teach him to act like a pureblood? Teach him to do things differently, to lock Harry Potter inside and keep him safe.
Harry wondered if it was really necessary, but could hardly argue. After all, his mother had died for that same reason. That was entirely what they planned to do. It would be hard, it would be something new and sometimes frustrating... but it would be something possible.
"Alright, as long as I get to learn more than etiquette," The raven-haired boy insisted stubbornly.
A blond brow arched, but Lucius nodded.
"Absolutely, Harry. After all... I have to teach you about my lineage, what you'll inherit from the Malfoy family, as well as some manners and proper decorum."
He seemed thoroughly amused by Harry's Gryffindor bravado, but then he had always faced it with a smirk and sharp-tongued quip. His gaze roved over the smaller male for a second before he seemed to come to some sort of conclusion for he announced, "It has likely been too long between your meals, and your stomach has most likely balanced itself by now. Bearing that in mind, Twiddles!"
The trembling elf appeared back with a small 'poof', still twisting its ears, large eyes the size of tennis balls darting about as though looking for an exit. Harry didn't like the fear he saw, it reminded him too much of the time Dudley and his gang of friends had cornered a kitten and taken turns terrorizing it. Even after they had left it alone, chased off by Mrs. Figg down the street, the poor thing had been shaking and terrified of human touch.
Twiddles reminded him of that cat, and knowing he was the cause of his distress, did not sit right with Harry. No, he did not like this at all. "Twiddles," Harry addressed the elf, lowering his voice and trying to appear non-threatening. Nonetheless, the horrified look and high squeak he received made him want to sigh in despair. Still, he continued on. "Are there any elves presently working at Malfoy Manor who are not afraid of me? Perhaps they could attend to any calls or needs I have, while you attend to your duties with the Master?"
Twiddles trembled like an autumn leaf in the wind for a few more moments and then nodded, disappearing with another small 'poof' to report back to the other elves. Seconds passed and Harry was beginning to wonder if all the elves were afraid of him, when suddenly a black cloud of smoke accompanied a startling 'pa-poof' of an elf's arrival. Though Harry noted that the smoke did not settle on any furniture, it was strange to have such a phenomenon.
This elf was darker than the other, seeming to be because it was covered in ash and soot. It almost seemed like it was becoming the same color, or perhaps it welcomed it. Was it a chimney sweep? Either way, large blue eyes stared calmly at Harry, not shaking or trembling. They didn't water, and they didn't wander from the moment the little dark soot-elf had appeared.
"Thank you," Harry offered, noting it hadn't said anything since it's appearance in the hall. "What is your name, so I know what to call you?"
The elf dipped it's head forward and leaned into a lazy looking bow, saying softly, "I is being Flue, young Master, and I is being serving you now."
Harry glanced at Lucius, finding the other had crossed his arms over his chest and had been surveying the interaction in silence. His expression was calculating, but he nodded.
"You tend to take interesting routes, Harry, but you get good results, I'll admit," Lucius said. "From now on, Flue will be your elf. This will do nicely, and it will solve a lot of problems."
Harry wondered what the other meant by that, but beamed. It appeared that he had done well by something, even if he'd only followed his instincts.
Flue was instructed to see to Harry's room after providing a small snack of pear slices and some expensive cheese that he couldn't possibly pronounce (or remember), both of which were delicious regardless. Lucius continued the tour, motioning to halls, the ballroom and various sitting rooms. Harry found he was most fond of the Sun Room and it's small indoor plants, though Lucius admitted that the Rose garden was grander than this.
So far in Harry's life, the most beautiful and grandiose thing he had ever encountered had thus far been Hogwarts castle. This was different, elegant and extravagant in it's own way. Hogwarts had appealed to him for it's magic and hidden charms, the key to his parents and the ancient magics. Malfoy Manor seemed like the sort of place Harry envisioned Kings and Queens lived in.
This? This was the sort of setting he imagined Queen Elizabeth in, the sort of place that he had never expected to step foot in. A bit like Buckingham Palace, but Harry felt like the Pauper being traded for the Prince. The Dursleys had made it quite clear that he was filthy and a hoodlum, something so far beneath them that his self-esteem had been greatly damaged for the years to come. Hermione had often argued that he had no reason to hate himself, that it was his relatives doing. She often could be heard saying, 'what would his mother think?' Honestly, it was very hard to disagree, but the bad things were far easier to believe, he'd decided.
Lucius seemed to agree with Hermione (not that he knew this), remarking that his lineage was just as grand and that his grandparents had owned a Manor similar to this, though he wasn't sure what had happened to it after they had died. Harry's heart had skipped a beat, the news of his family, the Potter Family that had been kept so secret from him. The news making him feel like the lost orphan he had always been called.
Seeing the hungry look on the teen's face, Lucius mentioned he could look into information on the Potters, discreetly of course. It was an effort made on his behalf to do something for the other, something he didn't particularly have to do. After all, this would not affect Harry's health or training. But it was something, and it showed good will.
Harry knew that Lucius was not a generally warm person, at least outwardly. He was not like Sirius or Remus with their hugs and the way they ruffled his hair. If he had to bet, he'd even say the man would rescue his own skin or his own family and son first. He, himself, was just a bonus, he was an additional and a product of good things to come. If things turned out, he would preserve and uphold many of the ideals that Lucius clung to, and that was important to him.
Could he also build a relationship with him? Yes. Was he entirely altruistic? No. He had much to gain, but he was hardly manipulating Harry. He had shown his hand cleanly, bared as much of himself as he felt comfortable doing. There was much more beneath that going on, the teen knew. Layers upon layers of interworkings, no doubt. Rather like clockwork, though he expected Malfoy would resent the comparison. But at the moment, the boy was satisfied that Lucius Malfoy meant him well. Their relationship would not suffer and he could properly bond with the knowledge that the man could be a decent seed-father.
Harry's rooms were off to the left Side Wing, a hidden door with stairs behind a large portrait of Brutus Malfoy, a wizard who seemed rather shifty if the green-eyed boy was being honest. As it was, Brutus had been known to have a Mistress or two, and illegitimate heirs. Provided they were pureblooded or at least half, they were often allowed entrance to the Manor. It was rumored that there were spells to ensure this bloodline knowledge, something that made the teen sick to his stomach to hear about, though Lucius seemed rather proud.
In fact, Lucius didn't seem perturbed mentioning the hidden passages, but did admit they were likely safest for Harry. The Lady of the Manor, his wife Narcissa, or any of those who came before her, would not be granted entrance. While knowing of their existence, the magic was designed so they wouldn't be able to pass through, regardless of Malfoy Wards. They could send house-elves, and in one such case, had poisoned a Mistress of the former Lord Malfoy in the same manner-- but were unable to enter the Bastard Suite of Rooms themselves.
Harry didn't feel safe, despite these assurances, and had to be reminded that indeed, Narcissa and Draco would not be home till August. The last thing he wanted was an attempt on his life-- but that would 'surely never happen', not to worry.
"I hardly think that's comforting, considering where your loyalties lie," snarked the Gryffindor in response, wandering through his eggshell blue sitting rooms. Cushions, sette and plush full-length ottomans abounded, making the room look overall relaxing and pleasant. Wooden furniture was set in a pleasant white oak, with accents of platinum gold. It held windows from floor to ceiling, and a pleasant view of sprawling, lush green lawns.
The Suite of three rooms were very open and welcoming, but frankly, he was still rather uncomfortable. Additional rooms could be found through a locked door in the Sitting Room, however, they were not needed at this time. There was also the case of the returning of his itch, the burning of his skin, but he wanted to ignore it for now.
Lucius regarded him casually, white lashes fanning over his golden cheeks in a half-lidded stare.
"My, but we are perceptive," He drawled. "No, I won't pretend that Draco and Narcissa aren't my first priority, Harry. I can't pretend and I won't-- apparently it would do you an injustice." Lucius' smile was sharp in a way that had nothing to do with teeth. Somehow this made it look dangerous, just the same. "However, I do care about your health, your wellbeing. I am not just using you. I do enjoy learning these fascinating tidbits about you, especially indulging your brilliant wit."
Harry turned and gave him a look, almost daring him to stop toying with him.
-muLucius chuckled, amused. "Come now, you are far more amusing than you let on. You are sharper, more intelligent than you claim. Why did you let that muggleborn do all the talking for you all these years?"
Harry noticed Lucius' careful cover, though it seemed more planned, intentional than accidental. He wanted Harry to know he was making an effort, he wanted Harry to know he was going to change how he addressed Hermione. Seriously, the teen wondered if everything was a calculated move with Malfoy, even taking a shower. 'Likely,' he thought with annoyance.
"I didn't let Hermione speak for me," Harry said carefully, glancing around the impressive bedroom he'd be occupying for the next week. "I made a lot of decisions myself. It was simply a lot easier to focus on other things, and she found most of the answers first, so I went with it. Not to mention everyone had a lot of expectations of me." His eyes narrowed. "It was okay for me to be good at flying, or transfiguration, even a little bit of charms... all things related to my parents. But if I had excelled at potions, I think a lot of people would have looked at me oddly. Defense quickly became more of a 'must' rather than something I wished to pursue-- it was something shoved upon me as the hero, the Savior."
"Do you actually enjoy Defense, then?" Lucius asked though he seemed to be musing it aloud as much as he was actually voicing it as a question. A rhetorical with an answer wanted, or something to that extent.
"I do, but mostly because I'm good at it and it keeps me alive," the teen admitted, trailing his fingers over the detailed crown moulding along the walls. It was something he had never owned, such attention to detail, such simple extravagance. 'To go from the cupboard to the Palace,' he snarkily grumped to himself.
"I take it, then, that you do not wish to pursue a career as an Auror as your father did?"
Harry was startled from his thoughts, glancing up at the blond. "No," he admitted, shaking his head. The burn was growing but he shoved it down. "I imagine I was being groomed for it by Dumbledore from what I've been told-- if I had lived long enough. But no, that is not my desired career-path."
Lucius paused, then seemed to warm in a way that he had not before, as though the sun was radiantly shining. Harry was not aware of what brought about this change and gaped slightly at the man.
"In that case, perhaps there is hope for the future yet!" He clapped his hands together once. "I shall leave you to shower and put your things together. There is a change of clothes in your armoire, hopefully, you find something to your liking. Afterward, have Flue escort you to the Informal Dining Room where we will begin our etiquette training."
He smiled and tipped a mocking bow, closing the doors to Harry's blue sitting room. Leaving the teen alone with the soot elf in the silence.
Shaking his head, the young cambion sighed.
"I don't imagine you can put a potion on for me after my bath, could you, Flue?"
Calm blue eyes regarded him for a moment before the small elf nodded.
"Alright, well... we'd best get going, then. Can't leave his majesty waiting," Harry grumbled, throwing his hands up.
Flue seemed amused, wheezily laughing as he ambled after the teen to the large bathroom. Harry decided he rather liked the sound, making a note to attempt to hear it more often.
Lucius had given him a very large set of rooms, with an ensuite bathtub large enough to rival the entire quidditch locker room. Harry felt like the entire Gryffindor Quidditch team could take a dip and still not rub elbows too terribly, as large as this was. Did Malfoys ever do anything by half?
Still, it was soothing, Flue running the taps and adding various soaps and oils to the water. Harry couldn't resist thanking the elf, getting a strange stare from the other but a slow nod in return. From what he'd learned from Dobby, wizards often didn't act kindly to elves, but Harry had not learned this habit, thus making unusual. After all, Flue was doing something for him, why shouldn't he be treated well? 'I wouldn't want to be treated the same way the Dursleys had pressured and badgered me,' he decided. Why shouldn't he offer simple niceties?
Freshly cleaned and feeling slightly less itchy at the moment, Harry stepped from the bath into a towel that felt softer and plumper than anything that had ever graced his skin before. What exactly was it made of? Really, he was in awe of the absolute luxury that these people lived in.
But as soon as he was dry, his skin started to prickle again, small needles of fire feeling like it peeling back layers down to his muscles. Wincing, Harry rubbed his palms against his eyes, pushing his glasses up. His abdominal muscles, thin as they were, clenched in agony as his skin flushed an angry red.
"Young Master?" Came the low voice of the elf, breaking through the heat along his nerve endings.
Harry opened his eyes, arms dropping to his sides and glanced at Flue. The house-elf had the potion phial from his bag, holding it out in an offering.
"Would the young Master like Flue to put this on his skin now?" He offered, his voice even and his eyes steady.
Harry nodded, walking unsteadily to sit down on the edge of the bed, towel still around his waist. The elf hopped up on the bed and unstoppered the phial, pouring the blue gel on its hands and began to rub it into the teen's irritated skin. Hissing at the cool and soothing sensation, the young cambion relaxed as his body gradually unwound.
"Should not have waited so long," Flue chastised gently.
Harry choked on a laugh, peeking a glance from beneath his bangs at the elf behind him. Yes, this type of talk was preferred, he decided.
"No, don't suppose I should have. But I don't really like asking for help, and I don't really know Mister Mal--- er, Lucius that well," he admitted with a shrug. "Thank you, by the way. I couldn't reach my back on my own."
The elf continued its duties, saying nothing, so Harry spoke again.
"I know you really probably don't want to serve me while I'm here, so at least it'll only be for a week. After I'm gone, you won't have to bother with me, so... uh-- there's that? I mean, you have that going for you?"
He was trying to sound optimistic but was confused when the small but sturdy hands stopped.
"Young Master is being confused. Flue is being his house-elf now, will go with him where he goes. Master Malfoy gave him into his care. Where the young Master goes, I is going."
Harry balked for a minute. "Wait... wait. No, I think... you can't be... are you... but Lucius didn't, he... he did say that you were... my elf?"
Flue hopped down off the bed, handing the phial back to Harry. "Does this upset the young Master? Has Flue displeased the young Master in some way?"
Harry began to rub the gel on his chest, trying to distract himself as he fought to explain the situation to the house-elf.
"No, you haven't. That is-- you're fine. You've been great! I just... I didn't realize..." He paused, searching for something to say. "Do you want to serve me? Do you want to go where I go? I just took you away so suddenly, surely you must have a problem with this... situation."
Flue stared, simply looking with his unblinking large eyes. He seemed to do that a lot, the strange little elf. But he was a calm little thing, the polar opposite of Dobby if Harry was being perfectly honest with himself.
"Flue is not having a problem with young Master, and Flue is not minding leaving. Flue thinks young Master is powerful and strange, but not bad." Floppy ears wobbled as he nodded. "Is a good thing, probably. No, Flue does not mind it."
Trapped, unable to tell the strange elf no, Harry helplessly conceded. It was something he seemed unable to win, though he would likely argue several points later. For example, how would he bring the little elf through time with him? Rather than bring that up now, the cambion simply finished up his phial, moving to stand from the bed.
"What sort of clothes does Lucius expect me to wear, do you know?" Harry asked, holding the towel closed at his waist as he looked curiously for the armoire, spotting a large white oak cabinet with heavy doors and ornate designs and engravings that fit the general description. Conversation seemed easier than giving orders.
Flue glanced at the armoire and the little elf seemed to shrug, stating simply, "The Master very rarely allowed casual wizarding clothing, Flue thinks it is being more formal." Blue eyes noticed Harry's nervous features, seeming to sense his distress at the discussion of clothing, so he slid his fingers together in a forceful 'snap!'. Elf magic opened the armoire doors, it's internal magic showing enhanced and expanded drawers. Sorting quickly through the large dimensions of the closet, the elf-spell came to an end when it finally paused in the vast interiors.
A cotton tunic came sliding out, small silken pants, followed by a soft pair of slack. All of which Harry gawked at, grasping them loosely. They were plain enough, the embroidery on the seams beautiful, but simple. White with a gold silk collar and slit-hemmed seams, nothing that screamed extravagance.
Raising a brow, he glanced at Flue. "What's the catch? There's no way Lucius would leave this in my closet."
The elf seemed to guess what he was thinking, for he glanced at the tunic, then back at the cambion. "They is being Egyptian cotton, with real gold filigree threads braided into the silk edging at the hems. It was being the least flashy, but it should also not upset young Master's skin."
Harry sighed. Of course, it had real gold, of bloody course it did. But it was exceptionally soft, and he couldn't stall any longer, so he donned the clothing and raked his fingers through his hair.
"Master Malfoy will not like that," Flue warned him, his blue eyes more amused now than anything. It seemed the elf had a sense of humor, almost daring him to get into a riff with Lucius.
"My hair?" Harry wrinkled his nose. "Yes, well... I suppose he'll just have to teach me about that as well. Until then, I'm leaving it as it is."
Flue wheezed a bit in his soft, dry laugh, but made no other comment. It seemed like fate was laughing at him as well, to give him an elf with a sick sense of humor. Oh well, at least it wasn't another Dobby who worshipped him and wanted to 'save' him through torturous means.
The teen headed out into the hall, trying to find his way back to the main corridor. Various eyes from the portraits followed him, whispering amongst themselves to their neighbors, but few seemed to outright and openly denounce him. As a general rule, Harry expected portraits to whisper and gossip, it seemed their only highlight being able to trade juicy information about the living. They were only canvas and paint imitations of their former selves, after all.
However, several turns later, he was getting rather tired of stumbling about the halls and he was quite certain that he was going to be late. Flue didn't seem to mind, simply glancing about with a sort of curious innocence that instantly made the wizard both amused and grumpy. He wasn't upset with the elf, it was more like he was jealous that he wasn't worried about their lateness-- rather, he took delight in wandering the Manor after his young 'Master'. The feeling was slightly catching, despite his uncertainty. Harry had a feeling Flue didn't get out much, though he couldn't be certain.
Finally, the green-eyed boy threw his hands up and turned to look at the walls with a stubborn glare. "Will one of you please tell me how to get to the Informal Dining room? I don't want to be late, and I can't very well figure it out for myself."
There were several gasps of outrage from various former Ladies of the House, shifting their handkerchiefs or feathered folding fans over their mouths; former Lords scoffing and shuffling in their frames, pausing in their consumption of fine liquor, holding fancy wooden pipes or cigars.
However, what caught Harry's attention immediately was a low chuckle coming from a few portraits down. A man with darker gray eyes than the others, sharp and hard features forboding, but their lines-- crows feet-- around his eyes that seemed to speak of laughter. While he also had creases between his brows that gave him a serious edge-- likely from frowning or scowling-- it was those fond crows feet that had Harry edging towards the painted man.
"It's about time you spoke up, boy, show some backbone. I was wondering if you had one in you, thought it looked like you did," Boomed the man in a rather deep baritone. He wasn't shouting, but Harry was certain that he had called plenty of attention and authority during his life. His manner of speaking was gruff, rather insulting at the same time as he complimented you. Nonetheless, the Gryffindor got the feeling the other was mostly teasing and he was just the sort to speak this way.
"Are you saying you only help those who demand it?" Harry retorted, deciding to speak his mind since apparently, that was exactly what had gotten him a reaction in the first place.
"Exactly, boy," the portrait replied. "Why would I help those who would rather snivel in a corner? Ridiculous I say. We have not gotten this far by being pathetic worms, who would cower beneath the bedsheets. No, we nobly marched ahead, defeating opponents and coming out on top."
Harry raised a brow, crossing his arms over his thin chest. "What about those that hid and decided that they were victorious simply because they were left alive? That doesn't seem very noble-- that seems pretty pathetic if you ask me. How can you be a hero if you hide from battle?"
The man barked a laugh, white-haired head that had probably once been blond-- tipped back in amusement. "Ah, but they survived, didn't they? To the victor goes the spoils. Sometimes a strategic retreat is just the key to protecting your home, your family. 'Live today to fight tomorrow,' you might say. I don't always approve of the method, but as long as we continue on." His dark eyes, painted oils as they were, brightened. "There is no courage without fear, boy. Some are just intelligent enough to recognize that you need to exercise a great deal of caution in order to see the final morning."
Harry huffed, amused despite disagreeing. Somehow, he found himself liking this... strange portrait. The man was so passionate and lively. As long as he didn't start spewing hatred for Muggle-borns and creatures, he found he likely would get along with the other.
"Fine, I concede your point. Sometimes, it's okay to fight another time," the Gryffindor agreed. "But that doesn't change that turning your back on the battle is cowardly. Now, how do I get to the informal dining room?"
The portrait laughed. "Well, you have an elf, don't you? Have it take you and you'll be there without taking another step!"
Suddenly, Harry felt very, very silly. Why hadn't he thought of that?
Flue stifled a wheezing laugh behind him.
Harry turned to grasp the house-elf's hand when he heard the portrait again.
"Boy! If you are wanting any more advice, seek out my portrait. If you can't find me, simply ask your elf to take you to Sir Nicholas Malfoy."
Harry nodded then slipped his hand into Flue's small one, disappearing with a small 'poof!'.
Dinner went rather well, though Lucius seemed to have noticed several things. For one, he made a comment about Harry's lack of attempt to brush his hair. When the boy remarked that it was always this way, combed or not, the icy stare he received could have frozen most hearts. Luckily, the Gryffindor was used to challenging others and didn't bow to the pressure, lifting his head.
He recited the incident with his Aunt and the scissors, how she had hated how untidy his hair was regardless of her grooming attempts. But after she had hacked away at it, the shorn locks had grown back at exactly their same length, refusing to be budged. Lucius continued to stare but said nothing.
Harry also learned during that meal that when Lucius told him to 'sit up straight', he meant it. In fact, he had means of enforcing it. It turns out, the purebloods in the wizarding world were so stiff-backed out of fear of a stinging hex, most likely enforced by a parent or tutor. Over the years, their posture and primping was simply to protect themselves from another zap from the offending wand, Harry would bet his vault on it.
The spell didn't 'hurt', it was more like a pinch, but the more you ignored it, the sharper it got. It seemed to target sensitive areas as well, making the victim yelp and having no choice but to roll their shoulders back, straighten their spine and remove their elbows from the table. When Harry glared sourly at Lucius for all the pain, he merely sipped from his goblet, apparently quite content with how the meal was going, the smug bastard.
The teen wasn't sure how he was expected to finish his food when he was sitting with a spine as stiff as a rod, unable to bend down properly to meet his fork or spoon. What if he spilled? His nose kept twitching and he was becoming quite irritable with the whole thing. At the end of the meal, he felt like he'd paid more attention to how he'd eaten than what he'd eaten. Which, frankly, was ridiculous considering how rich and fancy the meals at the Manor were.
"I'm beginning to think this week will end with tears and curses exchanged, Mister Malfoy," Harry confided in Lucius, staring glumly at his plate.
"Oh, I'm hoping to inspire far more than that, Harry," Lucius quipped back with obvious enjoyment. He didn't even bother to hide it, much to the teen's annoyance.
Harry set his fork down, unable to wrestle with the rest of his lunch anymore. Hopefully, he'd be able to sneak some food from the kitchens later with Flue-- he'd become quite used to frequent meals and his stomach was protesting the small amount it was digesting. Having a fast metabolism was not something he enjoyed, the wizard could easily admit, even if it might burn through poisons and regenerate or heal him. It was simply too much upkeep!
"Finished?" Lucius purred, looking quite pleased.
Harry scowled but nodded. There seemed to be no way around it, so he would have to admit defeat for now, and get him back later.
"Wonderful! Now we can begin general ideas for your attitude and of course, your hygiene," The blond finished the last of his asparagus, baked in decadent butter and fresh herbs. Gesturing airily, he stood from the table.
Now, some boys might have blushed, admitted that they've skipped a few baths and checked themselves for offensive odors. But Harry was not most boys. Harry, while he did not particularly care about his hair or appearance, at least liked to be clean. He brushed his teeth, he washed his body, and he did his best not to offend. So when Lucius Malfoy implied a discussion of personal hygiene, hackles were raised.
"Excuse me! I do not need to discuss my... 'hygiene' with you... you-you nonce! I am clean, and I do perfectly fine on my own!" Grumbled the hurt pride of the Gryffindor, the wounded lionheart.
Lucius folded his hands before him. His lips curled at the edges as he tipped his head to one side, eyes nearly silver in their intensity.
"Do you think I say things I don't mean, Harry?" The pureblood pondered aloud, more to himself than anyone, as the other had no intention of answering. "Do you think me so cruel as to verbally abuse you?"
Harry's cold stare was his answer, a simple ferocity that only slighted teens can seem to manage-- something raging hormones seem to aid them in.
"Ah, I'll take that as a 'yes', then," Lucius mused, sounding far too delighted. "Now Harry, when I said hygiene, I was not implying you were poor in your cleansing habits. Rather, I was going to discuss your general upkeep towards your appearance and self-esteem."
The green-eyed wizard frowned, completely lost, his sails deflated. What did that have to do with hygiene? Those two were not the same, and he was about to retort as much, call Lucius out on his bluff when the other spoke again.
"I know what you're thinking, and you're mistaken," The politician continued. "It's simply because you didn't have someone looking after your appearance. Cleanliness may be next to godliness, but a good and pleasing appearance can lead to better first impressions and good alliances."
"I hardly think looking like a pompous git is going to help make a great first impression," Harry scoffed, resisting the urge to slouch, lest he face the wrath of Lucius' wand again.
Lucius seemed to choose to ignore his comment, carefully pushing his chair back and standing from the table. "We shall see what we can do about your hair, hopefully something different than the usual. Then we'll move on to your dressing habits." He glanced over at the scowling teen. "Your glasses... while despicable, are likely going to have to wait due to your inheritance, so I'll leave them be for now. However, we can work on your walk, your gait. The way you hold yourself and general deportment."
Framing his face with his hand, the blond tapped his long fingers against his chin. "Am I forgetting something?"
Harry snorted. "How about the fact that I don't want this?"
Gray eyes slanted, and Lucius scanned his charge before replying. "Harry, I was under the impression that you wanted to start over. From what I had learned, you wanted to be your own person, to go to a school where you could simply be you." His tone turned sharper. "Away from the Dark Lord, away from the expectations of the Wizarding public, and away from Dumbledore and his sycophants.
"A place where you could grow, a place where you could find what, or who you wanted to be. A place where you could make your own path, a place where you are allowed to simply be without the risk of death for being born."
Harry's heart felt like it had slowed, pounding sharper in the wake of his anger, and it was suddenly hard to breathe. The words rang true and he nodded. Yes, that was what he wanted, all that and more. He wanted friends, he wanted a family. He wanted to be himself.
Deciding to voice some of this, he spoke up. "I.. I do," He agreed. "So why do I have to do all this? If I'm going to be a better me, why do I have to become someone else? If I'm to be Harry, just Harry, then why do I have to be-- what you want me to be...? I don't understand."
Lucius seemed to soften slightly, his lecturing tone a bit less glacial. "Because you are so very recognizable, child. Because the way you are, you are vulnerable, and none of us want that. All we are trying to do is better you." He smiled in that obnoxious way of his, that smug way that Harry had always seen. "It will be difficult, and you will likely fight me. But it is for your safety and well-being. If you differ just slightly, then you can slide under everyone's noses without fear of detection."
Harry still didn't like it, grumbling a little to himself, but stood from the table, his chair scrapping noisily. The Aristocrat seemed to flinch at the sound before glaring at the boy who seemed rather proud of himself. He began slouching over to the blond before he felt the sting of Lucius' hex to straighten his spine. In the end, it was worth it to get that reaction.
"Now, about that hair..." Lucius began, making the teen moan in distress. Really, he had been hoping he would forget about that.
So they had retired to a rather fancy bathing room in the Main Hall, one that easily could have given those Roman pools to shame. The adjoining room of mirrors made the green-eyed boy cringe, seeing his reflection multiplied so many times. He looked just as affronted, disgusted, and confused in the mirror surface as he felt.
Plump cushions and stiff-backed chairs adorned many walls along with various lounges, though Harry couldn't imagine why so many were needed. Perfumes, aftershaves, potions, powders, and puffs waited expectantly next to brushes, combs, bristles, sponges, and poofs.
Frankly, it was all very overwhelming, not to mention the various oils, creams, balms, and lotions intended for skins! How could you ever tell which one was needed? Combined, it was enough to make his head spin.
It turns out Harry was partially right when it came to his hair care routine. While it did not easily tame, it was possible with the liberal use of Sleekeazy's Hair Potion and an especially charmed brush for curly and unmanagable hair. This also came with the added benefit of learning about Harry's ancestors, the knowledge that the Potter's had always had such hair to the point that they had invented Sleekeazy.
A fellow by the name of Fleamont Potter had brewed the potion (proving not all Potters were thumbs at the art), made a fortune, and then sold the recipe, Title and Patents to it, but kept a large portion of the stocks. Apparently, this was partially where some of the Potter fortunes came from.
The knowledge about his family had made up for being oiled and brushed, feeling a bit like a fancy poodle at the end rather than a boy wizard, so Harry had muddled through it. In the end, even Lucius had remarked that his hair was notably longer than expected, as it was always haphazardly sticking up. The frizz and waves that it had acquired, in the end never laying flat, did not allow for its full length to show.
Now that it was straight (or mostly, anyways)and laying tame, it reached just past his jawbone behind his ear, something the teen had not expected. Lucius had nodded, remarking that this was closer to a pureblood length. This didn't seem like a compliment to Harry, but he did have to admit it did look smooth and rather well, not like his usual combination of electrical socket and bird's nest. 'Nor was it greasy,' he thought, though the whisper of this left a pang as he considered Severus.
Lucius had clipped his nails, applying a potion that would smooth and do special nonsense to his cuticles-- whatever those were-- making the teen wrinkle his nose. When he had again argued that this was far too girly, he had been met with such a dark glare that he had instantly regretted the comment.
"Being clean is hardly comparable to being feminine, Harry, and you should not consider it so. Please try to keep an open-mind, since you continue to thrust your views upon me," the blond bit back, moving on to repeat the treatment with Harry's feet.
The younger wizard was a bit cowed, realizing that sadly, Lucius had a point. This was not something he liked to admit, but he was often pushing his views onto others, and he hadn't considered what Malfoy might be thinking or going through. That only made it worse! He was going to have to be nice to the other, take this seriously.
Harry allowed the continued polishing, trying his best not to argue about his facial mask (what the bloody hell is a facial mask? You mean it's not an actual mask, it's some kind of skin cleanser?!). The various potions, shampoos, and conditioners that were piled into his arms-- all with Lucius insisting that they become a regular habit. Really, it was enough to send the boy packing, passing said items over to Flue with a scowl.
"I suppose you'll want to escape me and take your daily potion," the blond wondered aloud, seeming to read the teen's petulant expression. "But before that, I do have one last gift for you before tomorrow's session."
His smile was wicked, very much like a man who knew he was up to no good. "Why, if you allow me this one last thing, I shall even allow you to sup up in your room without my company!"
The Potter heir wondered what the other was up to but grudgingly nodded. "Alright, you've got me. I'll bite, what do you want?"
Lucius shook his head. "Nothing, actually, this is an entirely beneficial item for you."
Harry's eyebrows climbed his forehead towards his hairline, showing his disbelief with a rather shocked expression.
"Really," The elder male repeated, "This is entirely yours, something that you will find soothes you right down to your very core."
Green eyes blinked behind the black frames of his glasses, curious what the other was getting at.
Malfoy walked over to the edge of the perfume vanity, reaching into drawer and removing a gold... jar? Confusion marked Harry's expression, as while it was very lovely, inlaid with strange markings, beautifully detailed windows. Etched drawings of clouds, feathers, and the sky. Foreign words, or perhaps a spell wove around the base of the strange jar or... box? Jar-- maybe. Harry really wasn't sure what it was, but the small inlet holes circled the top in a pattern, a small pointed lid above that.
"Uh... thank you? It's... nice," remarked the confused teen, wondering what on earth the other appeared so proud about.
For indeed, Lucius looked rather puffed up, smirking at the boy's bewilderment.
"Do you know what this is?" Purred Malfoy.
Harry shrugged his slim shoulders, thoughts drifting to whether he could get another snack before dinner.
"Uh... it's a nice... jar-- vase... thing?"
Lucius blinked slowly, clearly caught off guard. Then he shook his head, his good mood refusing to be dimmed by the teen's lack of enthusiasm.
"Harry, this... this, is an incense jar. Not just any incense jar, this is something special, waiting to be given, crafted for someone in my line." His gray eyes burned. "Crafted for you."
Harry's nose wrinkled. "Incense? Ah... no thanks. I mean-- I have a bit of experience with Professor Trewlawney, and that was quite enough. Not really my cuppa, if you ask me. So thank you, really, but I think I'll pass---"
Lucius was shaking his head with such energy that Harry was startled.
"You don't understand!" Lucius shouted. "My family... we are primarily Dhampirs, you were told that by Severus, no doubt?"
Slowly, the cambion nodded, feeling like he was staring at someone who was a bit different than before, more intense.
"My bloodline, my great family," Lucius continued, swelling up again as he ranted. "We kept our line clean with Veela. It ensured we were beautiful, powerful. It gave us advantages as Dhampir against the fire weakness, though not much, regrettably." His tone seemed a bit bitter here, sniffing. "However! We run a great deal on instinct..."
The word 'instinct' seemed to clang like metal throughout Harry's body, rattling his teeth and his bones, making the cambion feel weak and a bit woozy.
"This is not an ideal situation, as a Malfoy must always be in control of themselves, understand?" Harry could barely nod, but noticed Lucius was partially talking to himself, stroking the golden incense box. "We cannot behave like animals, driven by lust or blood. We simply cannot lose control. Running loose, seeking attention, following the baser needs of our creature..." His lips pulled back as he sneered. "We are evolved. We are better than that. I love magic, but we are in control, not the wilds of the magic in control of us!"
Harry wanted to nod, wanted to say he wanted to be in control but found his voice was lost in waves of nausea.
Lucius seemed to be calming down. "Because of this, my family has used incense to calm our nerves, to soothe the inner beast-- our inner selves." His smile spoke of teeth as he looked at Harry. "I think you-- of all people-- could use this, Harry. So I am gifting this to you, something the Malfoy family does not simply do."
Harry was handed the incense jar, finding that the smooth metal had been placed in his slack fingers, giving him something to focus on.
Lucius seemed to realize Harry needed time to himself, or perhaps he was still lost on his tangent.
"I'll leave you and Flue to your rooms, the house is at your disposal. The potion will be waiting outside your door, and you can summon me should you need me. I'll see you promptly at quarter to seven tomorrow morning, do not be late."
The blond turned to go, not looking back. The dark little elf took Harry's hand, returning him to the hidden blue room with a small 'poof!'.
The teen was still shaking, unable to completely fill his lungs, feeling like something had happened, something had changed.
"Master should not have done that, but did not know, no he didn't," Mumbled the soot elf, scooping the incense jar from Harry's lax hands and placing it on his bedside table. Carefully, the elf lit a small cone from a drawer at the base, placing it inside the jar and putting the gold cap back on. Letting the fragrant, smoky perfumes escape and waft about the room.
Small hands pushed and tugged, leading Harry to sit on the lounge in front of his bed. Seconds later, Flue had a glass of water and a small roll of bread. While it looked like it was flaky and delicious, buttery fresh, soft-- something a Malfoy would dine on. It did look like something easy. Easy to chew, easy to digest and easy to focus on. Really, Flue was a wonderful elf, amusing and highly intelligent. When Harry was able to function, he'd have to make sure to tell him so.
Something about the vapors in the smoke seemed to be helping, making him wonder what it was made of. He must have mumbled it aloud, for Flue was back at his side, staring at him with wide blue eyes.
"Does young Master really want to know?" Wondered the elf, tilting his head so far to one side till one of his ears flopped to his bony shoulder.
Harry was feeling considerably better, his thoughts calm and languid. Something tickled in the back of his mind, aware that he might not like the answers. Pushing it down, he admitted he wanted to know regardless.
, clove oil, sacrificially burned Veela feathers, white sageFlue continued to stare at him, abnormally large eyes searching for something before the elf nodded. "Alright, but Master may not like it. The main ingredients is being... Powdered cinnamon, sandalwood, ashwinder eggshells, powdered peacock feathers, and two drops of dragon's blood per teaspoon. All beings ground up with the bone of one of the Malfoy Family ancestors in the Mortar.
"They is then being pressed and dried, only used especially by the blood relatives, young Master. Powerful magics, powerful combinations, good for a creature like Flue's young Master."
Harry's head tried to grasp the combination. Some sounded okay, while others sounded a bit... fishy. Sketchy even, especially that bit at the end. Was it really normal to have incense made in such a fashion?
"I... thank you, Flue," Harry mumbled, rubbing his forehead as he finished off the last of his bread. Really, some things were better off not knowing. He'd ask Lucius about it some more tomorrow.
"How often does Lucius use his... er-- use his incense, personally?" Harry asked the small elf, wanting to avoid the question of how the ingredients were procured. Instead skip straight to how often he'd be exposed to them.
"Every day, young Master," Flue admitted, sounded pleased with himself for the knowledge.
The teen swore under his breath. He'd have to deal with this daily, it seemed, at the very least. Especially if it was as important as Lucius made it sound. Just bloody great!
Unable to handle the stress, the total events of the day, Harry slipped out of his clothes and into the black silk pajamas he had brought with him from Severus' week. They felt cool on his skin, not irritating in the least. His mind was going pleasantly numb, thanks to the incense.
Though it was summer, Flue stoked the fire in the bedroom hearth, building it high as Harry climbed beneath the covers.
"Just a small nap," the teen grumbled, pleasantly warm and surrounded by the soothing wafts, trails of smoke.
Flue passed him a potion, saying nothing on his choices, but nudging a phial into his hands. Curiously, Harry popped the cork only to realize it was Lucius' blood potion.
"Ah, worried I'd forget?"
Flue gave him a look with those large eyes that so resembled tennis balls. "Young Master should not be late in takings this, but resting is being good."
Harry smiled lopsidedly, downing the potion without argument and passing it back to the soot elf. "You're rather good at helping us pathetic wizard folk, aren't you?" He teased, flopping back against an over-stuffed pillow and curling his fists beneath it.
Flue's expression looked rather wicked as he agreed. "Yes, you is being rather useless, isn't you, young Master?" He snapped his fingers, making Harry's glasses disappear from the boy's face and reappear on the nightstand beside him, safe from being crushed.
The teen chuckled, feeling his eyes slide closed very slowly. Blinking seemed to be taking considerably longer than normal, but that was to be expected.
Harry liked Flue and the building relationship they had, however strange the little house-elf was. It was a good strange, the kind of strange that made him feel like Flue was more of a friend and less of a servant.
He was just about to tell the other so but found his lips would not cooperate. Sleep had taken him and his body was far too warm and heavy to move.
Strangely, though he dreamt of the field of white flowers, the black creature-- his Id instinct-- was silent. Laying in the field a finger's distance away, Harry turned his head to watch it's chest rise and fall, not feeling the startled fear that normally accompanied its appearance.
Instead of focusing on Id, he admired the white flowers, finally putting a name to them... lilies. He was laying in a beautiful field of fragrant lilies. Harry felt peaceful and warm, and the overall urgency, the starling awareness when his inhuman instinct shifted beside was him lacking. Instead, he smiled and met the blank black eyes with languid green.
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[[ Things are always interesting for Harry. Creating this Universe for him was fun, but I did try hard to stick true to character personalities--- because I don't own them. So if you want softer characters, unless it SEEMS likely, probably not going to happen.]]
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Diseased