Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Who Do You Think You Are?	By : sharinganswirl Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 4686 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and make no money from the creation of this story.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and am not making any money from this work.

A/N: Welcome! I’m working on a new story and want to know your thoughts. Here’s the first chapter… please be kind. J You may have seen some of my works on aff.net before (forever ago), though this is a new story and I wanted to post it here to see how you liked it.

I’m also looking for a beta/motivator – so please excuse any typos/errors. I tried to find all of them, but you know how it goes. If any of you are willing, please feel free to message me!

****************

Chapter 1

“The Malfoy’s are descendants from kings!” Draco cried, feeling harassed and more than a little buzzed from all the fine wine. He would blame the wine for the lack of composure he was showing. He knew his behavior wasn’t helping his argument.

“Of course they’re not. They have only claimed to be since the beginning of time because they are just that pompous.” Pansy lifted a dainty hand, dismissively, feigning boredom.

“The Malfoy’s can trace their lineage back for generations!” Draco took a breath, trying to compose himself. “For at least seven, if not more.”

“Oh, come off it, Draco!” Blaise interjected hotly. “We don’t care if you are or not! Just shut up and drink more. And relax!”

Draco accepted the offered glass of wine from his long-time friend. He was beginning to forget how this conversation had started. As he took a sip of the rich drink, he thought back.

“You know Blaise, if you hadn’t brought up how ‘prim and proper’ I always behaved, which I believe you meant to have said ‘controlled and poised’, we wouldn’t be having this argument. As I stated before, the way I behave practically runs in my veins,” Draco sniffed.

Blaise muttered something under his breath, which Pansy caught and began to giggle.

Feeling indignant, knowing they were laughing at his expense, Draco merely lifted a brow at Blaise, waiting.

Rolling his eyes, Blaise explained. “I only said that you behave more like you have a stick up your arse than ‘controlled and poised’.”

Feeling anger rise up, Draco frowned. “I do not have a stick up my arse!”

“Oh, but you’d like that, wouldn’t you? Might relieve some of that tension…” Pansy winked at him.

Having just taken a sip, Draco nearly sputtered it all over his friends. Pure hereditary control stopped him. “Excuse me?” Draco fought a blush.

“You heard me.” Pansy smiled and took a sip of her wine.

“You’re both impossible.” Draco sulked, turning his attention to his glass.

The three friends were occupying one of Draco’s sitting rooms, enjoying a Thursday evening at the Manor. It was a large modern styled room, tastefully decorated in silvers and golds. The sun had set long ago, only to be replaced by the full moon, peering in at the window. A fire was crackling, the three friends sprawled gracefully upon the couch and armchairs arranged so neatly before it. Oriental rugs covered the hardwood floors, candles glittered around the room, and mirrors gave the illusion of grandeur. The room would do for now, but it was only a matter of time before Draco got another wild hair and chose to redecorate it.

Expelling a large sigh, Blaise sat up, catching Draco’s attention.

“If you’re going to pout about it, then just show us your family tree. We’d rather suffer through the boredom of learning about where the dead Malfoy’s came from than watch you pout.” Pansy hissed and hit Blaise’s arm. “Ouch! What? It’s true!” Blaise smirked.

If Blaise hadn’t just so blatantly offended his person and his family, Malfoy would have been amused at his friend’s antics. As it was…

“Pout?! Boredom of dead Malfoy’s?!” Draco stood, room swimming dangerously. “I’ll have you know, Blaise, that dead Malfoy’s don’t pout!”

Pansy erupted with laughter and Blaise grinned.

Forgetting all ill feelings toward his best friends, Draco allowed a smile to grace his features.

“I will find the Malfoy tree and you will eat your words, Blaise!” Draco made to move toward the door, despite having no knowledge of where the tree would be, only to find his arm attached to Pansy’s hand.

“Draco, love, you’re plastered. Sit down before you fall down. You’re supposed to be graceful, remember? Show us your family tree another time.”

Contemplating Pansy’s sound logic, Draco nodded. “Quite right, dear. I believe I will sit.”

He did. Clumsily.

*******************

“What do you mean there isn’t a Malfoy family tree?” Draco felt his stomach drop. Inwardly, he was screaming his frustration. Outwardly, a calm and collected face looked to his father. They were in his father’s study, surrounded by books and antique furnishings. The room breathed ‘aged refinement’.

“There just isn’t one, Draco. I don’t know why.” Lucius Malfoy’s stony face peered at his son. “Why the interest?”

“It’s nothing of great importance, Father. I’m reading a new book and the characters are researching their family line. Genealogy, they call it. It just got me thinking about where I come from.” Draco learned how to lie from his father.

Nodding, Lucius stood from behind his grand desk. He strode purposefully over to a tall and dark bookshelf, his wizarding robes billowing after him. After perusing the titles, Lucius grabbed a large tome. One would have expected the book to be covered in dust if it had been in any other place other than Malfoy Manor. Placing the heavy book gently on a coffee table situated in front of a very uncomfortable but stylish couch, Lucius flipped to what must have been the direct center of the book. Curious, Draco inched forward, squinting to get a better look. Lucius motioned for Draco to come to him.

The center pages of the book were actually folded in, which Lucius took great care to unfold. Across the top of the pages was a crest, one that was black and silver. A sword pointed upward, appearing to bend the stripe that crossed the crest at an angle across the top. Two stars adorned the corners. Branching the crest were two greyhounds. Underneath it all, in large and ornate font were the words:

“The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black”

If he were any less disciplined, Draco’s eyes would have widened and his jaw would have dropped. As it was, he merely swallowed and glanced toward his father.

“I cannot provide you the Malfoy family tree, but there is your mother’s side.” Lucius ghosted a hand over the diagram of the Black family tree.

“Mother’s a Black?” Draco could have kicked himself for such a stupid question.

“Yes. They are a close second to the Malfoy’s when it comes to pure bloodedness and wealth. Your mother’s parents and mine arranged our marriage when we were very young.” Draco almost detected a sigh. It could have been his imagination.

“So, I’m related to the blood traitor Sirius Black.” Draco stated. Glancing at the family tree, Draco frowned very slightly. “I don’t see his name on the tree.” Indeed, there were several spots on the family tree where scorch marks took the place of where a person’s name would have been.

Lucius’ jaw tightened, and he nodded. “Yes. His name has been… removed from the tree. I believe he would have been here.” Lucius pointed to the scorch mark next to the name “Regulus Black”. Straightening, Lucius turned to Draco. “You can look at this for a long as you like. Please replace the book when you’ve finished.” Turning away, Lucius strode out of the room.

Sighing, Draco looked back down to the Black family tree. While it was interesting, he was more than curious about all those scorch marks, it didn’t help him in his quest to prove Blaise wrong. After studying it for a while longer, Draco carefully folded the pages back into the book and replaced the book on the shelf. The spine of the book gave itself the simple name of “Black”.

Racking his brain as he was leaving his father’s study, Draco wondered if there was any way he could discover and compose a family tree for the Malfoy’s. He decided that if he were to start anywhere, it would be the Malfoy library.

*********************

Nothing. There was absolutely nothing regarding the history of the Malfoy’s. It was like all trace of the Malfoy’s had been erased!

Draco had spent a fortnight in the library, searching high and low, for any mention, any detail, any sign that a Malfoy had been born, baptized, married, or died.

Nothing.

All he found were a couple of books about genealogy, which Draco knew he would find useful in his quest. He had already gained a basic knowledge of what questions to ask to whom, and where to start his search. He really would have preferred to hire somebody, but who in the wizarding world could he ask? The Malfoy’s were too well known. If Draco approached another wizard to research the family tree, he would be a laughing stock! And there was also the matter of privacy. Sure, the Malfoy’s had enough money to pay anybody off to keep their secrets, but that still wasn’t any guarantee that the family secrets (if there were any to be found) would remain secret.

He was more than aware that his parents knew about his interest and were probably confused by it. His father had most likely gone to discuss the matter with his mother the afternoon Draco had asked to see his family tree. He knew that they had probably agreed that he could continue to do whatever he wanted, as long as he didn’t jeopardize his wellbeing or the wellbeing of the Malfoy name.

One question did keep running through his mind while he was conducting his research.

‘Why didn’t anybody want to research this before? Why didn’t anybody think it necessary that descendant’s may want to know about their heritage?’

As far as he knew, every wizarding family, or at least every pureblood wizarding family had some sort of system, whether magical or not, that recorded the family bloodline through the male child. He just naturally assumed that the Malfoy’s would have such a record. He was genuinely surprised to find out that they didn’t. He knew all of the wizarding world who cared would be genuinely surprised. Not having a Malfoy family tree at all was enough of a jeopardy to the name. He couldn’t let that continue. He needed to build the family tree and keep it preserved through generations.

Thoughts of how he could do this magically buzzed through his mind, but it all came back to a central focal point.

He was going to need help.

**********************

Harry Potter sat hunched over a desk, squinting at a computer screen, trying to decipher barely legible handwriting on a document over 200 years old. The room was shrouded in shadows, the sun having set a long time ago. The computer screen cast an eerie glow on his face, reflecting faintly off his glasses. He was too engrossed in his work, his hobby, his passion, too caught up in the events of 200 years ago to notice that the room was dark. If he noticed, he probably wouldn’t have cared much anyway.

“Fascinating,” he whispered to himself. He was staring at a marriage certificate between a muggle man and a muggle woman. The fascinating part of it was, this marriage was a complete surprise. According to this document that Harry was viewing on his computer, John Parker wasn’t only married to Elizabeth Johnson, like Harry had discovered before. John was married before, to a Rebecca McKinley, an Irishwoman by the looks of it. Harry would have to continue digging on Rebecca to find her history. But there was one more pressing question that could alter the lives of the family members who requested Harry’s expertise.

Did John Parker and Rebecca McKinley have any children?

There could be a whole side to the Parker family that is undiscovered! Harry’s heart sped up at the thought. Did Elizabeth know of Rebecca? What if John and Rebecca had children? Did Elizabeth know? Did John even know?

Harry quickly struck a few keys of the keyboard to save the document into the “Parker” file he had created months ago.

Still swimming in thoughts of drama, mysteries, and possible betrayal, Harry was startled by the overhead lights blaring on.

“Bugger! Don’t you have any consideration for my already weakened eyes?” Harry screwed his eyes shut.

“I’m sure that staring at that bright computer screen in the middle of the dark is really helping them a great deal,” came the sarcastic reply.

Harry smiled. “Aw, Hermione, don’t get all motherly on me now.”

Hermione snorted, unladylike. “Trust me, Harry. You don’t want me to ‘get all motherly on you’.”

Harry pried open one eye, looking toward the direction where Hermione’s voice floated from. And there she was, looking more angelic and saint-like than in all the years he’d known her. She had learned to tame her mane of ringlets over the years, which fell long and shiny, and wore very subtle makeup to accentuate her natural beauty. She was dressed in a smart pinstripe skirt suit and maroon robes, obviously having come from work.

She was holding coffee and a Tupperware container that held dinner.

“When are you going to divorce Ron and run away with me, love?” Harry swooned, staring at the paper coffee cup.

Hermione chucked. “As soon as you love me for my brain and good looks and not only the latte I’m holding.”

“Damn.” Harry breathed, smelling the coffee, hot and strong. “That’s too bad.”

Laughing, Hermione held the coffee aloft to her face as if to drink. “I should just take this for myself…”

“Hermione!” Heartbreak.

“But I love you too much.” Hermione sighed. “Drown in it.” She gave the cup over to Harry.

Grasping the cup like a lifeline, Harry took his first glorious sip of the latte. The strong and smooth bitterness flowed over his tongue and down his throat, lightly burning on the way down. Instantly, his shoulders relaxed, loving the warmth and comfort that the espresso and steamed milk gave him.

“And your dinner. Lasagna.” Hermione placed the warmed Tupperware on the desk in front of Harry. “You need to eat, you crazy workaholic.” Hermione’s smile was full of affection.

“Yeah, yeah.” Harry took another sip. “God, Hermione…”

“Keep your erection down, Harry!” Hermione laughed.

Chuckling, Harry placed the cup down. “Thank you! You’re the true hero in this room.” A 1000-watt smile lit his face as he looked at his long time friend. “What brings you here?”

“Just checking up on you, of course. It’s a wonder you survive every day, honestly.” Hermione took a look around the room. They were in Harry’s study in his flat in muggle London. It was actually the second bedroom converted into an office, which was currently crammed with a desk and too many bookshelves for the room. Almost every available service was littered with old dirty dishes and too many coffee cups. Boxes filled with books and papers were strewn across the floor, still mostly packed despite Harry having moved in a month ago. “Still packed I see.”

“Yeah, I’m unpacking on an as needed basis,” Harry shrugged. “Just busy. I get caught up in this, you know.” He gestured to his computer.

Hermione smiled knowingly. She knew the addiction of research very well. “What are you unraveling now, detective?”

Harry launched into the story of the Parkers and the mysterious Rebecca McKinley. “I didn’t expect to get that marriage certificate back from Greg when I asked him to send me a copy of John Parker’s marriage certificate. It was a real shock. I had to make sure it was the right John Parker. Same birthday, if you look here on the certificate.” Harry had turned back to the computer and pointed.   “It’s got to be him!”

“Who’s Greg?” Hermione asked, lifting a suggestive brow.

Harry didn’t miss the implication. “Not who you would want it to be, I’m afraid,” he said dryly and enjoyed the pout Hermione performed. “He’s one of the guys at the county office I’m working with. And about 60 years old with two daughters he’s already tried to set me up with.” Harry cringed. “I haven’t the heart to tell him I’m a shirt lifter. I’m afraid he’ll keel over from a heart attack, his poor cholesterol and all that.”

Hermione giggled. “Oh, Harry.”

“Common. Let’s get out of this stuffy room and to the kitchen. I have some delicious lasagna and a beautiful woman begging for my attention.” He cast a wistful glance to his computer, already missing his research. Then he extended an arm and escorted Hermione through the boxes and into the rest of his flat, which was in a very similar state of disarray.

Hermione looked around and sighed. “How can you live in this, Harry?”

“Hm?” Harry glanced around. Boxes were still stacked in his living room; furniture was covered with knick-knacks and pictures. “It’s not so bad. I don’t even notice it really. I guess it would be embarrassing if I had guests over. But,” he shrugged. “I’ll worry about that when the time comes.”

Hermione took it in stride. “Guess Ron and I aren’t guests?” She lifted a brow in his direction.

“Nah, you’re family,” Harry said simply. Hermione beamed.

After finding a fork, Harry dug in while standing up and leaning against the counter, enjoying the stringy cheese and tangy sauce as it mixed with the bitterness of the coffee. Hermione leaned against the counter on the opposite side of the kitchen, very used to Harry’s eating habits.

“You shouldn’t eat while standing up,” she chided.

A pointed look in her direction had her rolling her eyes.

“Well, fine.”

Another couple of minutes passed in silence, only interrupted by Harry’s groans and moans of pleasure. Really, food was a religious experience for him. Food and coffee. Especially coffee.

“Not that I’m not very grateful for the food and coffee, but it seems to me that you didn’t just stop by to give them to me. What’s going on? You and Ron have another fight?” Harry inquired.

Hermione smiled. “No, not another fight. We’re good. Great, actually.” The light blush on her cheeks confirmed that. Harry relaxed a little. “But, I was thinking…”

“Here we go…” Harry groaned.

“Oh hush you!” Hermione laughed. “Harry, I think you should begin to do some genealogy work for wizarding families. At least think about it,” she added hastily when Harry looked like he was about to protest.

“Hermione, you know wizards don’t exactly need a genealogist. They have their magic spells and other old family secrets to pass down that kind of information. It’s not needed. Plus,” he gasped dramatically, “I’m the Chosen One! The Boy-Who-Lived! I’m Harry Potter! Nobody would leave me alone and I would get so many bogus requests to track down family lineages once they found out what I did with myself nowadays.” Harry frowned in thought.

“Yes, I know that. But there’s a way to get around all of that.”

“Oh, really?” Harry raised a brow.   “And how is that?”

“An alias,” she said simply.

That gave Harry some pause. “Well, ok, sure, but that still doesn’t solve the issue that there just isn’t a need for a genealogist in the wizarding community.”

“What about half-bloods and muggle borns? You should know, Harry. You had to dig out your own family tree using genealogy. That’s how you became interested and how this whole thing started.”

It was true. After the war had ended and everything had calmed down marginally, Harry was overwhelmed with questions about himself. He had spent so long focused on vanquishing the Dark Lord that he didn’t spend too much time dwelling on growing up and discovering himself. He thought that maybe if he knew where his family came from, it would give him an idea of what kind of a person he was. It was a long couple of years, but eventually, Harry had completed his tree on the Evans and Potter side clear back to the 1500’s. It was quite a journey and he learned a lot about himself in the process. The end result was Harry developing a passion for genealogy and it becoming his profession.   At least, in the muggle world.

“Why are you so hell-bent on me starting up genealogy in the wizarding world?” Harry asked.

“Well,” Hermione took a breath. “Ron and I are worried that you’re trying to distance yourself from the wizarding world. I mean, we can’t really blame you, after everything that’s happened, but we would like you to be happy and comfortable in it and that means you would have to accept your position in the wizarding community, as dismal as that may be to you. As long as you’re avoiding it, it’s causing stress and anxiety on you. Wizards and witches won’t make such a big deal about you anymore if you just make yourself more known and public. Odds are they would lose interest after a while. Right now, you’re surrounded in mystery. Hardly anybody has even seen you since the War.”

That gave Harry another thought to consider. Had he been running away?

After a long pause, Harry said, “I’ll think about it.” Hermione beamed again.

*********************

Well, there it is. Thoughts? Love it? Hate it? Want more? Just let me know. :)
- 1
- 2
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Who Do You Think You Are?