Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

An Unwanted Son	By : HalvarTork Category: Harry Potter AU/AR > Slash - Male/Male Views: 3620 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not hold any rights to Harry Potter, the character, or story line. That right belongs to his creator J.K. Rowling. No profit is made from this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Chapter 1
- 2-Chapter 2
- 1
- 2
Malfoys Fall! Wizengamot Unanimous in Ordering them Kissed

In a not-unexpected decision the Wizengamot has ordered Lucius Malfoy Sr. and his heir, the young Lucius Malfoy Jr., executed by Dementor’s kiss for war crimes that include use of black magic, treason, and murder. Minister Shacklebolt has made it clear that all individuals confirmed as Death Eaters during the war will find no mercy at the hands of the Ministry. Execution orders have already been carried out for notable figures including Bellatrix and Rodolphus LeStrange. The wizarding world offers no quarter to those who have participated in the second rising of the Dark Lord.

Though popular opinion may be behind Shacklebolt’s rather radical push for execution over imprisonment many still feel such punishment is extreme considering the age of some of the soon-to-be executed Death Eaters. Malfoy Jr., a boy of only 18, was a minor when many of the crimes he is to be executed for were committed. Can Shacklebolt really hold a child accountable for war crimes? Apparently he can. How far will the public allow our radical new minister to go before we call it enough? Execution is set to take place in front of the ministry, in grand spectacle, on January 1st, 1999. The soon to be executed Malfoy family acknowledges no living heir.
Hard green eyes flicked over the article, scanning the contents multiple times. A look of disgust twisted the dark features of Harry’s face at the sympathy The Prophet was throwing behind the to-be executed war criminals. Shacklebolt’s support of execution was the only way to ensure that this war was well and truly done. In the case of the LeStrange’s they had escaped Azkaban, the most secure wizarding prison in existence, and Harry believed would not be held long if sent back. The Malfoy heir had brought Death Eater’s into Hogwarts, costing the lives of any number of wizarding children, staff, and other Ministry supporters. The elder Malfoy was responsible for helping to overthrow the ministry, murder of an unknown number of innocents, and torture. Harry had no sympathy and could not see how anyone would. In irritation Harry crumpled the paper and threw it in the fire. The paper curled and burnt turning to ash in seconds.

Boraxn Belchrot was a shrewd goblin, as were most of his race, and understood well the failings of humans. He had long ago learned to prey on their uncontrollable lusts, making him a fortune. Among other questionable and mostly illegal pursuits Boraxn ran the most exclusive brothel and pleasure house on Knockturn Alley. He prided himself on his ability to cater to all needs, price ranges, and depravities. If a wizard could gain entrance to his establishment Boraxn would find a way to accommodate him at a cost. This was why when a harried former Death Eater came to sell him the cast out second son of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy he paid him modestly and sent him away in the night. The young boy now slumbered fitfully on the brocade sofa in Boraxn’s office. Blonde hair tangled around his face hiding angelic features and a soft youthful mouth. Boraxn looked forward to watching the young cherub blossom into the lithe boy he knew to expect.

~~ 5 YEARS AFTER THE WAR ~~
Harry woke with a start to the shattering noise of someone pounding at the door of his London flat. He stared blearily at the ceiling and considered whether or not to confront the individual at the door. With a groan he pushed himself up and out of bed, groping blindly at the nightstand for his glasses. Several empty vials and his wand tumbled to the carpet, but his glasses were not there. Grumbling unhappily at his blindness, Harry grabbed at the wall using it guide him through the apartment. Wrinkled silk boxers rode low on Harry’s hips as he tore open the door, glaring out at the intruder.
Hermione took a quick step backward, startled by Harry’s sudden appearance. Her hands twisted nervously as she stared back at his glaring face, concern twisting her features. Harry stepped away from the door, holding it open for her to enter. Giving a sharp nod Hermione ducked under his arm and stepped into the entry. She gasped at the disaster that met her. The open plan hid nothing of the mess that was Harry’s home. Take-out containers spilled off the kitchen island, collecting in a haphazard pile to one side creating in a stinking mountain of trash. The sink was filled with dirty cutlery and glasses, some half filled with liquids that appeared to be growing a fuzzy film. The living room was worse with empty potion vials and liquor bottles cluttered on the floor and coffee table. A large hole graced one wall, likely from an errant fist smashed through it in a fit of temper. Dirty robes and muggle clothes scattered everywhere. The fact that there did not appear to be either a bug or rodent infestation was impressive.
Hermione turned on Harry in a fit of temper, “This is not acceptable Harry! I know you have been drifting away from everything lately but this,” She gestures madly around the room indicating the trash, obvious signs of substance abuse, and hole in the wall. Her dark eyes flickered with anger and concern. Harry shrugged one strong shoulder and turned toward the kitchen stumbling blindly around the mess. Hermione shook her head in disgust and, extending one hand, murmured “Accio Harry’s glasses.” The slim black frames shot from the general direction of the bedroom and landed in her outstretched hand. Picking her way through the filth, careful not to step on anything too questionable, Hermione followed Harry toward the kitchen, pressing the glasses into his hand.
“We are all really worried about you. You haven’t been to the Ministry in ages. Everyone is wondering when you will return to work. The Aurors need you whether you believe it or not and more than just as a consultant. Come back to the real world, Harry, this isn’t healthy. Ron asks about you all the time. He is afraid to approach you after the last row and is nervous you will never forgive him,” Hermione’s hands fluttered at her side and she bounced on her heels, unsure about how Harry would respond to her pleas. He had been unstable since the war and prone to fits of blind rage that were often set off at the drop of a hat. She assumed not much had changed in the year since she had last seen him.
Reaching in the fridge Harry pulled out a slim vial and tossed back the contents before turning to face Hermione. His vision swam a bit and a flush climbed his neck as the potion burned its way through his system. The vial slipped from his hands and fell to the ground to join many a companion. Harry reached out one hand to grasp the counter while he waited for his head to clear. “Hermione you shouldn’t have come here. I do not welcome this intrusion into my privacy. Your concern is misplaced. You should focus your time on people who need you and not nose around in things that concern you not. My affairs are my own and how I chose to conduct myself is not at liberty for your scrutiny.” Harry’s expression was hard and uncaring a stark contrast to the boy who Hermione remembered from school.
Hermione exploded, “Harry, the war has been over for five years, and you need to move on. They are dead! Sirius, Severus, Dumbledore, they are all dead and they are not coming back. Please just get over it and please come back to the world. Live Harry! They would not want you to do this to yourself.”
Rage flashed across Harry’s features as he clenched his fists tensing. Hard green eyes bored into Hermione, shining with a barely contained rage. “That is enough. I ask you please leave,” Harry’s voice was glacial as he turned and walked back to the bedroom, slamming the door and ending the conversation. Hermione sank to the floor crying silently. Her thin shoulder shook with despair as fat tears ran trails down her cheeks. Being confronted with the truth that the hopeful loving boy she remembered from school was well and truly dead was heart wrenching. With shaky legs Hermione climbed to her feet and began making for the door. As she slipped back out into the crisp London morning she held a heavy heart. The door closed with a click signifying the end of a friendship long gone cold.
Harry threw himself face down across his bed and rode the high that was working its way through his system. They called it Euphoria Blue and it brought a dreamlike haze and numbness to the embittered man. Limbs tensed with anger over his friends outburst unclenched and relaxed. Memories of the war that plagued Harry with a vicious persistence fled into the ethers of his mind. Slowly Harry’s heart rate came back under control and he headed for the shower grabbing up some clothes and his wand as he went. A quick scourgify rendered the clothes decent and he slipped under the warm spray all worries having floated away in a warm haze.

Draco sat nervously outside Madam Adele’s office, hands folded neatly in his lap, back ramrod straight, and ankles crossed to one side. The child Boraxn had purchased had grown to be a graceful creature in the years since he had been enrolled at Madam Adele’s Finishing School for Young Girls. Unlike many children who would find themselves called unexpectedly before their headmistress, he did not fidget. Mademoiselle Celeste, secretary to the headmistress, spoke up without turning her face from her work, “Draco the Madam is ready for you.” The boy gave a slight nod and rose, smoothing his navy skirt and checking that his stockings had not rolled down before approaching the door to the headmistresses’ office. Draco entered curtsying low for the Madam and standing at attention.
“Ah Draco thank you for joining us,” the Madam spoke crispy, “Your guardian has sent for you. It is not common we allow a young individual to take holiday in the middle of the year, but considering your condition we have made an exception. We are lead to understand you will be out for a medical procedure?”
Draco looked taken aback unsure what the Madam could be referencing, but he knew better than to contradict Boraxn. If he had said a procedure was needed then it was needed and he would submit, too aware of the consequences of possible insolence. He put on a thoughtful expression to hide his surprise nodding slowly, “Oh yes, I forgot that Monsieur Belchrot mentioned that might be necessary. I have always had a weak disposition and my guardian is ever thoughtful of my health.”
“Then it is settled; you will go and return in a weeks’ time. I hope you understand this does not mean you can put aside your studies. When you return you will be drilled thoroughly to ensure you have not fallen behind your peers. I do not approve of your guardian enrolling a boy in my school, but he pays well for discretion so we will continue to accommodate as long as you do not bring disgrace to us. Please see your things packed and ready at the front lobby at six this evening. The letter states a car will be sent for you.” Having said all she intended Madam Adele turned her attention back to her paperwork effectively dismissing her charge. Draco curtsied and backed away slipping back through the door he came in, closing it softly.
At exactly 6pm Draco stood in the lobby of the boarding school beside his packed trunk. He had left his uniforms hung and pressed in the wardrobe of his private room and instead wore a white pinafore over a grey dress of fine wool that fell to his knees. His blonde hair pulled back in a thick braid to his waist tied with a matching ribbon. Several girls in their navy uniforms stood gossiping on the stairs peeking down at Draco. Before long a dark faced wizard entered, dressed in a smart chauffeur's uniform, to collect Draco. “Hello Monsieur Rodolphus. I understand Monsieur Belchrot has requested I return home for a short while?” The chauffeur grunted hoisting up Draco’s trunk and heading for the black town car idling in the front drive of the school. Draco followed quietly slipping in the back seat and pulling a slim book on Latin verbs from the pocket of his pinafore to study on the drive.

The warehouse was mostly deserted when Harry let himself in through an old service entrance. His steps echoed loudly on the cement floor sounding almost cacophonous. Birds fluttered in the rafters let in through broken plate windows set high in the walls. The cement was painted in feathers and refuse. Abandoned equipment, boxes, and crates cast long odd shadows in the half-light that poured in from outside. Harry was nervous the environment left many places for an enemy to lay in wait. His hand twitched confirming his wand was near at hand if needed. “Uhhhh...Mr. Gray?” Harry called out stepping into an open expanse of concrete that appeared to be an old loading dock.
In the center of this area was a stout man of middling years wearing a smart suit. He appeared to be a man accustomed to luxury gone soft around the middle. Two roughs stood to his side, matching bored expressions on their faces. “Mr. Potter,” Mr. Gray responded, “I understand you wish to approach my employer with a business opportunity? He was most intrigued by your proposition.”
“Euphoria Blue. I approached him about Euphoria Blue, a most intriguing substance. I understand you trade in such substances.”
Mr. Gray nodded thoughtfully, “We are interested. My employer has requested samples, which I am under the impression you are here to provide. If my employer determines he is interested then we will discuss further what we can offer you. If he is interested there will also be expectations for your proper conduct. We are lead to believe, from our rather thorough investigation into you, that you are using the product among other things.” Disgust was evident in the florid man’s tone.
Harry glowered, “I see. I have brought the samples as requested,” Harry pulled half a dozen slim vials from a pocket and took a step toward Mr. Gray. His guards crowded up beside the man holding up a hand for Harry to halt his approach. The taller of the two came forward and collected the drug slipping it into his own coat. “We will consider what you have provided and get back to you. I recommend you consider what you are trying to get into before that time. Advice is not something I should provide you, but I recommend you start now pulling you image together. If my employer decides you are or will become an issue for the company you will be dealt with.” Having no more to say Mr. Gray turned on his heels and walked away, back into the echoing warehouse with his guards close behind. When all was quiet and Harry could no longer hear the retreating sound of footsteps he apparated back to his London flat. Concerns brought up in the recent interaction crowding around the edges of his ebbing high threatened to overwhelm him.

Shortly after leaving the school Draco was sent on by portkey to Boraxn’s London estate with his luggage. He arrived with a crack and stumbled slightly, always hating the sensation of magic travel. Grimacing at his undignified entrance, Draco righted himself quickly dusting off his pinafore. A dour faced butler stood in the entry waiting upon Draco’s arrival. “Welcome home Draco. Mr. Belchrot awaits you in his study. I will see your trunk taken to your room and unpacked. It will be good to have you home for a short time. Tonight we will not sit for dinner due to your late arrival, but a tray will be sent up once you are done meeting with Mr. Belechrot, “ instructed Mr. White, butler to the Belchrot estate. “Thank you White. I will see to Boraxn now. I appreciate you seeing to me upon my arrival,” Draco turned and made his way down the hall. The house, though large, was homey. The front hall had wood paneled walls and rich carpets underfoot. Wrought iron sconces set on the walls burned fat beeswax candles providing a soft soothing light. Draco felt comfortable in the space filled with a sense of belonging at being home.
The door to Boraxn’s study stood open and Draco let himself in. A fire burned merrily in the hearth bathing the room in warmth. A large silk pillow sat before the desk in the place where one might expect a chair. Draco cringed at the site of the pillow and slowly began stripping his pinafore and dress folding them and setting them on the desk in a neat pile. Shined patent Mary Jane’s and white knee socks followed in addition to his modest white panties. Draco knelt gracefully on the provided cushion, back straight, head bowed, and eyes downcast. Boraxn watched with approval, happy to see his training had not been forgotten in Draco’s time away. The boy was absolutely lovely with hair a white blond that fell in a rope-like braid to his hips. His skin was the pale color of new milk with a softly rounded hip and thin shoulders. His face showed the promise of sharp high cheekbones as he aged and lost a bit of the baby fat that his young body still clung to stubbornly. He also had a full mouth, all lush plumpness very different from his father and brother who came before him. Boraxn was pleased and hoped that the castration would help preserve much of the youthful charm and kiss of femininity the boy carried.
“You have grown in both grace and beauty since summer, this pleases me greatly. Madam Adele has spoken well of you which is surprising considering her rather surly nature. I am glad you have outgrown you impulsivity and impertinence. Your marks are exemplary. I wanted to inform you that we will be adding Spanish and Italian to your schedule when you return. Your mastery of French and Latin have been superb. I have also seen to arranging a short recital for tomorrow evening. You will be performing vocals and a piano piece I have pre-selected. I know you understand the importance of these performances and will take this seriously,” Boraxn fixed the trembling child with a hard look black eyes flashing like obsidian, “When we had you home for the summer you performed abysmally, embarrassing me and hurting your future prospects. I hope you have not fast forgotten the consequences of such behavior.” Draco flinched at the mention of the past summer fear blossoming across his features. His body began to tremble more violently as a tear slipped from one eye. Boraxn walked around his large desk to stand beside the boy, caressing his shoulders and hair tenderly, “Hush beautiful boy I am sure such measures will not be necessary this year. You have come so far since then. Do not act so, you shame yourself,” Boraxn scolded gently referencing Draco’s current breakdown. Draco gave a loud sniff and settled himself, tears drying upon his cheeks.
“Come now grab your pillow and bring it over near the sofa. We can sit while I explain the reason for having you brought home from school for a short vacation,” Boraxn gestured to a low brocade sofa. A blanket was tucked over the back and a book lay open on one of the cushions. It was a comfortable intimate space. Boraxn settled himself on the free cushion while Draco placed his pillow to the side and kneeled gracefully. As Boraxn began to speak he took Draco’s braid in hand and began slowly undoing the loose weave, “The day after tomorrow you will be seeing Dr. Chesca. She is a muggle doctor and you likely remember her from past visits. She looked after you last summer after your punishment. Dr. Chesca will be performing your castration.” Draco jerked away from Boraxn, turning on him with a shocked look as he began to tremble again. Boraxn fisted the blondes’ hair in one hand, tugging him backward, “You will kneel Draco and behave yourself. I tolerated your earlier episode, but this is unacceptable. I will work out a minor punishment which will be administered before you can retire for the evening.” The boy folded himself back into the previous kneeling position, body tense and unyielding, as Boraxn combed through his hair with idle fingers. “Remember I own your body Draco. Try to remember what happens when you forget this. Your mind may be your own, but you are mine. It has been decided that before you begin to feel the ravages of puberty we will see you castrated to maintain your perfect soprano and softer form. You will likely not reach the height nature had thought your due and will gain less muscle mass. With the assistance of some magic and potions we will also render you hairless below the neck. You will have a short time to heal before returning to school. You will remain there over the holidays this year and work with private tutors. Your time there will be short compared to others. You may speak now, but think carefully what you wish to say and the tone you take in saying it.” Boraxn pushed the heavy locks from his lap to fall around Draco like a blanket, hiding his small frame.
Draco chewed at his lip thoughtfully before speaking, “I do not want this procedure Master. I do not want to continue at a girl’s school. They know I am different and they talk. It is merciless and I am would like to just be me. I have always been a thing to be molded, but I am not a person Master. I want to be a person.” Draco had managed to keep his tone soft and respectful as he made his plea. He no longer trembled or cried, but held himself still in an elegant and erotic posture learned from long practice. Boraxn shook his head rubbing the bridge of his sharp nose in irritation.
“You are not a person Draco and never have been. I cannot make you something you are not. Just as I can never be a wizard you cannot become a person. You are property pure and simple, a commodity to be molded and trained. A person cannot be bought and sold and you were purchased as a child. You have been registered and slave branded since you were barely out of nappies. It frustrates me to no end how often I have had to remind you of this these last two years. You would be so much happier if you accepted your place. Do I not provide you every opportunity? Have you wanted for anything in your short life?”
“Master you have been most kind to me and I apologize for being ungrateful. Seeing the girls at school has allowed me to forget my place these last few years. I will do my best to improve, I am sorry I disappoint you. I struggle to understand my purpose and should put more of my faith in your ability to care for me,” Draco’s words rang with hopelessness and showed the understanding of one well beyond his eight short years of life. Boraxn nodded happily at the boy’s response. “Draco you are dismissed I would like you to head up to your room and contemplate why outbursts are inappropriate. I’ll be sending Rodolphus up shortly to administer a caning for your earlier outburst as punishment. Afterwards White will have your tray sent up, you should eat and retire for the evening.” Boraxn waved him off and turned back to the book he has set aside earlier.
Draco rose in a single smooth motion and collected his pile of clothing before slipping into the hall. The plush carpets were smooth beneath his bare feet and he curled his toes into the thick pile enjoying the way it tickled. Draco made his way further down the hall towards the kitchens and servants’ stair. Bastion, the head cook, smiled kindly at him as he passed through and gave a small wave. Draco did not wave back but hurried on up the steep back stair, unused to the casual nudity required of him when home. His room was a well-appointed if cramped affair with a narrow bed, wardrobe, and desk. The furniture was all sturdy antique pieces, oversized and space consuming. The upper floors were hardwood, but a faded rug offered some respite from the cold. Draco carefully tucked his clothes in the wardrobe and pulled out a silk pillow much like the one in Boraxn’s study. He settled himself in the center of the room, knees on the pillow, body stretched out in a deep bow so his back was exposed and buttocks slightly raised, waiting for Rodolphus.

It seemed near on an hour when Draco finally heard the heavy footfall in the hallway. The boy fought his desire to shudder, shoulders going tense. Rodolphus had a heavier hand than Boraxn and enjoyed the pain he was allowed to inflict on the child. He entered the small room with a thin bamboo cane in one hand made to be flexible and stinging. The man’s dark features twisted into a smile as he examined the prize before him; so much pale smooth flesh laid out and ready. “I am told you are just as volatile as last summer young Draco. I look forward to your future misbehavior,” Rudolphus spoke with a sneer in his tone, caressing the boys’ buttocks and back with the cane. “You got off light this time, which makes me wonder if Boraxn is getting lax. Five strokes and you will count them out loud. If you cry out or miss a number I start over. We can go as long as it takes.” As the last word rolled off his lips the can came down hard and sharp across the boys back and the curve of his hip. Draco bit his lip hard, tasting blood.
“One, Sir,” Draco gasped out through the pain causing his vision to go black. A large red angry welt blossomed, marring milk white skin. The next three strokes came down in quick hard succession allowing Draco no time to adjust or catch his breath and with each the only sound that crossed Draco’s lips was the number required. The last was a vicious stroke designed to make the boy scream and came down hard and diagonal crossing all the welts laid out before it. Draco’s whole body went stiff and he bit through his lip, blood dripping on the fraying rug beneath him as he squeaked out a breathy, “Five, Sir.” Gingerly Draco began to slowly rise into a resting kneeling position, wincing and shuddering as he went. Rudolphus growled angrily at the boys resolve and stormed from the room slamming the door behind him.
Draco refused to move from the floor, in too much pain to contemplate standing. The last welt had cut the skin and blood beaded slowly. Pale locks of hair stuck to the wound. His lip was bruised and sore where he bit through it and looked in possible need of stitches. “Draco I brought your tray up,” White pushed his way into the room and swore in a very undignified manner at the sight of the boy. “Master Belchrot you should get in here,” White yelled into the hall before moving out of the doorway and settling the tray on the desk. Boraxn shuffled in wearing a dressing gown and slippers, looking livid at the invasion into his nightly routine. “Yes, White what could be so….” his voice cut off at the sight of the boy. His back was bad, but the sight of his bruised mouth was what truly set off the goblin. Draco could not perform in this condition and Rodolphus had gone too far.
Boarxn’s voice was icy when he finally responded, “White, get Draco cleaned up and put salve on his back and lip. You will need to stitch the lip or have Gretel do it, then get him in bed. A sleeping draught would not be amiss. I will deal with Rodolphus and then be to bed.” Boraxn swept from the room and left White to care for his young charge. It was late by the time Draco drifted into a drugged sleep tucked up in his own bed.

Harry had spent the evening and most of the next day going over every detail of his interaction with Mr. Gray in his mind. The man had been dowdy and of average intelligence, not one you would take for a big mover and shaker. He seemed more a low level paper pusher then anyone with clout. Harry was almost offended that he had not warranted better. Then he remembered in the muggle world he was just some guy trying to peddle a new age drug in a market already flooded with product. The call for Euphoria sang to him, and it had been over twenty four hours since he downed a vial. His skin felt a size or two too tight and itched like crazy. He had spent several hours already upending his stomach and was pretty sure a fever was on its way. His fingers twitched out a rhythm on one knee as he tried to focus back in. He should be brewing more Blue, but his hands were shaking too much from the withdrawal. He wasn’t sure he would stay off the drug but for now he would get clean. He had plans for the future and Mr. Gray had made a fair point in him getting sober. Harry turned over in bed pulling the comforter up over his head and swearing he would peel himself out of bed tomorrow if he felt any better.

Draco woke slowly the next morning groggy from the sleeping draught White had forced on him. His back ached and his lip felt swollen and tight. He reached up to touch the stitches moaning unhappily. Boraxn hated anything that marred his face and Draco was terrified he would be punished for biting himself. Draco knew about magical healing, but the whole idea made him nervous. Boraxn had always had him cared for by muggle healers, especially after punishments. Boraxn felt that Draco would take a lesson more to heart if it was not easily erased. Draco was careful to rise and dress, not wanting to cause undue discomfort. He suspected a non muggle potion must have been applied to his wounds back as it only ached mildly. He dressed quickly in a heavy red wool dress that fell around his knees and thick white tights. Over this he pulled on a white ruffled pinafore and tailored black boots. White had braided his long hair into a tight weave the night before so he headed down to breakfast after lacing his boots.
Bastion had laid out breakfast buffet as was the custom for the house. There were platters of eggs, kippers, sausages, and a large array of baked goods. To Draco it was the sight of heaven. The fare at school had been bland and underwhelming. Boraxn had not yet come down to take his place at the head of the table. Draco thoughtfully picked over the selections with his eyes before filling a plate with a small scoop of eggs, a scone, and some chopped fruit. He had never been a big eater, and though he loved rich foods, he worried about growing fat and undesirable. He picked at the food on his plate mostly nibbling the scone and leaving the rest to go cold as he waited for Boraxn to join him. It was nearly a half hour before the goblin came into the breakfast room carrying a copy of the Daily Prophet tucked under one arm. He heaped a plate full of eggs and kippers for himself before settling down at the head of the table and fixing Draco with his black stare.
“Sir, I was hoping to review the pieces you selected for the recital before tonight,” Draco spoke softly. Family meals had always allowed a certain level of informality, but Draco was careful not to push his luck after last night. “I would like to be at my best for our guests. I want to prove to you I have grown since last summer.” Draco fell silent, eager to earn approval from his guardian. Boraxn continued to eat his breakfast while glancing over the front page of the Daily Prophet and carefully considering how to respond to the boy/
“We have had a change of plans. Rudolphus was heavy handed with last night’s punishment and in light of that we are postponing the recital. I am hoping to rework a number of things so we can have you home for a few days at Christmas for another recital. I thought today as a reward for handling yourself so well during your punishment and the exemplary marks you have received you would enjoy going to Diagon Alley for the afternoon and doing some shopping. You have your allowance?”
Draco looked up with eagerness, dropping the fork he held and resisting the urge to cry out in excitement, “I do have the bulk of my allowance Master. I have little need of it at school. I would truly enjoy a opportunity to shop. I have not been to Flourish and Blotts in sometime and would enjoy picking up some new latin texts.”
“Then I will have Gretel and Mikhail accompany you. Rodolphus will be away from the estate for sometime so Mikhail will take over as your companion and security. You will begin seeing a new magic tutor once you return to school on the weekends and I advise picking up some texts on basic magic theory while you are out. I will provide Gretel a small allowance for this. You will also be expected to dress for the trip as normal. You understand that your family was not popular during the war years and avoiding scrutiny is for your own safety.”
Draco picked the fork back up poking at his eggs, eyes downcast, as he responded in a nervous whisper, “Sir, I really would like if we did not do magic theory again. It didn’t go well last time and I have little skill at it. You never liked wizards; why must I become something you despise?”
Boraxn sighed, “Draco, we have had this conversation many times and you know why you must learn control over your inherent magic. I may dislike wizards, but you will never have enough skill to be considered such. Magic, however, is a dangerous weapon and if you do not have control over it then it can lash out, without your consent, and cause harm. Do you want to harm someone? Would you choose to set yourself up for future punishments?”
Draco shook his head, “I do not wish that Master. I will apply myself to the magical lessons and learn well what you wish for me to know. I apologize for letting my fear guide me to impertinence. May I be excused to dress for the excursion?” Boraxn waved him off without a word and turned back to his paper. When Draco turned into the main hall Gretel was already there, holding out his traveling cloak and veil over one arm. “Oh, Draco, you have grown comley in your months away. Let’s get you wrapped up and we can be off. Master Belchrot has approved us to take the Floo Network!” The buxom upstairs maid spoke with a rolling accent and had a plump sweet face. Wild red hair fell around her shoulders in a mess of unkempt curls, a cap pinned haphazardly over her head. She settled the heavy wool cloak over Draco’s shoulder pulling the hood up over his head to shadow his face. A dark veil was pinned across his face obscuring all but the bluest of eyes. Stepping back she took in the sight of the cloaked and veiled boy and nodded happily, “Not a soul would know who was under all that. You look like a right mysterious lass going about so, but thats for the best. Come now Mikhail is waiting for us in the front parlour ready to leave by Floo!” She clapped her hands happily. It was unusual for the upstairs maid to get a weekday off and she had always enjoyed Draco’s company.

Harry rose the next morning feeling rather ill used. His head felt as if a pack of industrious dwarves had taken up mining his skull overnight and his vision swam when he cracked his eyes open. His skin felt hot and feverish to the touch and he stuck to his sheets, indicating he had suffered night sweats. His stomach turned violently and he resisted the urge to heave. Stumbling into the bathroom, Harry downed a hangover potion and a fever reducing potion in hopes of lessening some of his withdrawal symptoms. A quick shower and breakfast of dry toast left him feeling somewhat more human. Without the haze of Euphoria Blue, Harry was better able to take stock of just how bad his flat had become and he determined to head into Diagon Alley to owl for magical house cleaners to come around. Taking stock of cupboards and his potions lab left him noticing a number of other supplies he would need as well.
Harry picked through the clothing scattered across the living room before settling on a pair of denim jeans and a band t-shirt from some muggle concert he only vaguely remembered enjoying. A little wand work rendered the items wearable and he slid into the tight jeans that hugged his slim hips and muscular legs like a second skin. The t-shirt was loose and comfortable. A pair of knee high dragon-skin boots and leather bomber jacket finished the ensemble and he looked every inch a muggle. Harry tucked his wand up one sleeve into a specially designed pocket that allowed it to be easily accessible before apparating. He arrived with a crack in a side street off the main stretch of shops reorienting himself carefully before disappearing into the crowd of witches and wizards passing by.
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An Unwanted Son