Just like last year, he felt like a whole new person after his day of pampering himself. New contacts, new hair, newly covered scars and skin tone no longer noticeably grey, and even new clothes thanks to a short excursion back to the muggle world. This new wardrobe had a lot of long sleeve shirts in it, including several thin turtlenecks as well as a dozen bandanas and scarves to wrap around his neck at least for the next couple months.
His hair was the biggest fascination to him though, and a welcome distraction if ever there was one. It was long enough to brush the small of his back and thanks to the potions they'd washed it with (seven of them to finally tamp down its wildness), straighter and sleeker than it'd ever been. He put it back in a lose braid and long pieces still slid out like silk strands that he'd tuck behind his ears, or just let them fall as it became apparent he'd need hairclips to keep it back. Not that he felt like it at the moment, but maybe when he got back to school and needed it out of his face to study or for his sports.
And speaking of sports…
He knew he needed to get back to some kind of equilibrium—Dursleys be damned he'd taken care of himself despite their interference and they'd really put him back this summer but god damn it he was going to fix this.
He worked up to eating proper meals again slowly but surely, he drank plenty of water, he took dreamless sleep potions and slept full nights. He walked up and down Diagon and Contrair Alley, only once at first before he had to stop and rest, and then several times, attempting to do limited exercises back in his apartment a couple times a day to try and build his strength back up—but it was a lot harder than he'd been thinking it'd be. No matter how hard he tried, he just seemed to be unable to breathe too quickly, and his limbs shook unsteadily far sooner than they used to doing the same exercises or even more challenging stuff.
Given the work outs Wood usually had lined up, in this state Harry feared he might legitimately might pass out rather than complete one of his captain's regimes.
His stomach clenched at the thought that he might not be able to play quidditch or football at first when the school year started, only a bit under two weeks away now, and pushed himself to walk farther and do one more sit up just at the thought of it.
He just wasn't sure if he'd actually be able to do it in what felt like so little time, but he had to try.
Harry did make progress though, and he felt… a bit more like he was an actual human by the time the day he was to meet up with Draco dawned. Despite his trepidation about the talk he knew the blond wanted to have, he found himself actually excited for the first time in…
Ah, positive emotions made him feel just as off-kilter as bad ones, so he wasn't really sure. He also didn't dwell too long on trying to remember past emotions either, as that didn't seem to help at all.
He wasn't sure, that is, until he spotted Draco in the crowded alley, bright colors of countless witches and wizards like a tornado of exuberant light and the Malfoys' pure silver-white hair standing out sharply in contrast. Like Hedwig's sleek white feathers standing out sharply in the crowd of brown barn owls over the Hogwarts breakfast tables, in this chaotic flush of colors Harry now associated with the wizarding world, somehow still Draco managed to stand out dramatically.
That morning he'd gotten up, showered, dressed his best wizard outfit so his friend's pureblood parents didn't hate him, done his new hair the best he could and ate a full breakfast to be prepared for the day. Before walking up to Diagon from Contrair he'd downed a calming draught just in case, and he thought maybe he could handle this.
But then he actually saw Draco and suddenly he felt like he was coming apart at the seams. Like the string holding him together had become alarmingly threadbare and all at one it was starting to give.
He was already running before he even realized what his feet were doing, and Draco didn't really like touching people but he wasn't exactly paying attention as he looked at something in a shop window—his mother absolutely did though as the refined Lady Malfoy visibly startled at the incoming redhead. That was all Harry got to see however, before he'd absolutely walloped Draco, tossing his arms around the blond, burying his face in his shoulder and hugging the ever living life out of him.
"Harry!" Draco eeped in shock, but automatically wrapping his arms back around him in a hug. Harry was thankful he didn't instinctively get hexed for his moment of impulse because he knew the Slytherin was definitely more on guard for personal attacks than hugs in general.
"Hi Draco," he managed to get out, knowing his voice was probably a bit too high in stress, but otherwise held together a lot better than he thought it'd be. "S'been a long summer."
"It has," the blond agreed, although Harry could tell he was kind of baffled by that seemingly random statement.
Draco was very cold. Not in emotion as he actually hugged him back and that was… nice. But cold in a temperature sort of way—his friend was very noticeably not warm as Harry hugged him tightly, but still soft. Like snow, or an echoing memory of perfectly untouched snow layered deeply across the quidditch pitch. Like a heavy exhale on a bone-chilling winter's day that created a puff of curling fog as your breath met crisp air.
Given how much chaos Harry felt welling up inside him like a slow-motion emotional tornado, it was incredibly soothing actually. Like ice on a headache, or shade under a July sun.
After one last moment to gather himself he released the hug and stood back to offer Draco his most earnest smile, and was thankful when Draco seemed to accept it with a smile of his own. Seeming to remember his manners a bit too late, Harry looked at the Malfoy parents accompanying their son and flashed them a much more manufactured, but probably more convincing smile of politeness.
"Hello Mr. Malfoy, Mrs. Malfoy."
Both seemed entirely blank in return, but Mr. Malfoy nodded once curtly while his wife greeted him politely. "Mr. Potter. My understanding is that you would like to shop with Draco; I have other business to attend to so we will meet again here at three." She explained curtly, getting right to the point with no room for questions in her tone.
Harry and Draco both nodded in agreement—Harry hadn't heard that plan before but clearly Draco hadn't wanted to corner him in front of his parents, which he could appreciate.
He thought the reminder of what Draco wanted to talk about would make him uneasy but… suddenly he was a lot less nervous about this conversation with Draco physically in front of him now.
Oh right, this is my friend. That baby cactus he's always been. When have I ever been afraid to talk to him?When did that start?
He drifted a bit closer to Draco side at those melancholy thoughts, like the blond was a talisman chasing them away.
"Yes Mother; see you at three," Draco slipped away from his parents without much further ado and suddenly Harry found himself being dragged by the sleeve of his invisibility cloak through the crowd, Draco seeming to know exactly where he wanted to go first.
And since it was into a small alcove to one side of Gringotts where they could sit on the marble steps with a giant griffon statue blocking the rest of the alley from view, Harry figured he wasn't exactly planning to actually shop first.
"I'm glad you're in one piece Harry, but now I can tell you to your face how much of an idiot you are," Draco ranted without preamble as he pulled them down to sit on the steps and Harry was dunked right into this confrontation. At least he didn't beat around the bush needlessly and cause more stress working up to it. Maybe he got that from his mom. "Blood? On our journal? What?" the blond demanded immediately, and Harry winced.
"It was an accident."
"Really?" Draco was suspicious, and Harry knew he was suspicious because he was making no efforts at all to hide his body language or the incredulousness on his face. "Harry what happened this summer? I know that you… you went through some things but then you never once talked to me. Not really, and before we left Hogwarts you promised you would. I get everyone reacts differently to stuff but that really doesn't seem like you."
Lying didn't seem like him, he meant, and Harry wanted to wince at that implication. Lying did seem like something he would do, just not to Draco, and he kind of hoped no one ever knew about that reality. He kind of hoped Draco in particular never knew about it—because to his perspective Harry didn't lie. It just… wasn't actually true.
What could he do, but put his head down in defeat? Because Draco was right, and being forced to confront that made him feel terribly guilty. He wasn't sure he could apologize though—he wasn't sure he'd actually mean it.
"Maybe not but… I guess that's just how I react then."
"What, not talking?"
"Maybe I'm just not ready to talk, okay? It—it was a long summer." He defended himself, though if felt kind of hollow.
Especially when Draco just looked at him with genuine confusion and concern. The more earnest it was, the worse Harry felt.
"You said that before but what does that even mean?"
He avoided the grey eyes trying so hard to understand what he was saying, pressing his lips together into a tight line.
"Draco… I don't say this to be cruel, but there are some things about me that you will never be able to understand."
"What is that supposed to mean!?" The blond balked in alarm.
"It means you have parents who love you, and who would protect you." Harry snapped, something he'd almost forgotten bubbling up even though he knew it shouldn't—not now. He hadn't had real temper issues in months, and while the warmth that went to the very tips of his fingers as it flared back was familiar and nice as it somehow reminded him of who he used to be before all this, he also knew this wasn't the place. Draco of all people didn't deserve his wrath—there were plenty of people who did, but Draco was not one of them, not when he was sitting here legitimately trying to help.
It was just that… he felt kind of cornered, having answers demanded of him when he just had none to give.
And he was immediately on edge when even coming close to feeling of being cornered, the feeling of being caged making him physically sick to his stomach without warning.
But the sharp words were already out of his mouth before he stamped a lid over the flaring heat in his chest, and Draco's ire went out instantly, like a candle being snuffed.
"What?" Draco seemed genuinely taken aback by his words, and Harry felt bad for even bringing it up.
However… it was partly true. It was only a tiny piece of why he was not mentally and emotionally ready to actually talk right now, but it was no less painfully true.
Draco was spoiled. He was loved. He had no idea people out there could harm children—well he did consciously, but not the people who were supposed to protect them. Parents and guardians… Draco was on guard against everyone because his parents had trained him to be so, but he never once actually doubted that his parents loved him and were on his side.
Part of Harry was… shamefully, jealous of that.
And it was a brutally ugly side of him that he never wanted to see the light of day, but he couldn't say that small feeling didn't exist, and he owed it to Draco to be honest.
So he took a breath to steady himself.
"I am an orphan who grew up with muggles who hate magic. Draco, your parents are turning their lives around just because they want to see you smile, just because they don't want to interfere with us being friends. Your parents love you. And clearly they've protected you, as we've already been over how sheltered you are."
The blond shifted a bit unhappily where he sat, frowning as he absorbed that. "Yeah but… I mean I don't understand. What it is you won't tell me and how this is supposed to relate to Dobby of all creatures? Or the blood or—or anything!"
Ha. For a Slytherin he always has been a bit oblivious. Figured that was enough of a hint, but he's a bit slower on the uptake than I thought.
Draco was impressive because he was a Slytherin who only had ambition for no other reason than pride and self-assurance. Not desperation or envy or greed or hunger— like Harry's own reasons and that which many of the snake house could probably trace their own ambitions to. Even being just as conniving and hungry for power and success as any of them, the one thing Draco didn't have, was the understanding about why others might want power and success themselves. To him, everyone should want those things so it was only natural—he was born that way and any other thought process was foreign.
If Harry hadn't been raised in a such a horrible home, if he hadn't been beaten down and personally shown how bad things could be, he might've been a better Gryffindor, or even a Hufflepuff. He would've been so happy to just be and live and not care about tomorrow because he wanted to enjoy the moment. He wouldn't fear not being prepared or ahead of the game because now he knew too-intimately what not being the cleverest person in the room entailed, and lived in terror at what that would mean for him.
Because he would be dead a thousand times over if he couldn't figure out how to protect himself without anyone's help, and so somewhere along the line he'd become far more Slytherin than any Gryffindor before him had ever been by his knowledge. Hell, the hat had put him in Gryffindor because he could then use it to achieve his goals—and if that wasn't the very definition of a Slytherin he wasn't sure what was.
It startled Harry to realize that while Neville was probably the truest Gryffindor he knew of, Draco was probably the absolute best example of a Slytherin. Not someone who wanted power to solve a problem they had (Draco was rich and spoiled, talented and intelligent—what problems did he actually have aside from dorm politics?), but someone born to be ambitious and to always crave more for no other reason then that he simply demandedmore of his life at all times.
Neville wasn't that brave and Draco was pretty unsubtle—at face values they didn't live up to the stereotypes of their houses, but at their core…
To Harry it felt like pure gold and silver amongst a lot of cheap copies trying to replicate the real thing, and those flashy forgeries always overcompensated a bit. Always touted what they thought bravery and ambition meant, and everyone bought into it—until you found the real thing and suddenly found everything else a bit hollow.
Harry felt a bit hollow.
After all, he was neither a good Slytherin nor a good Gryffindor. He was somewhere in the middle which made all his bravery and ambition feel… fake. Somehow Draco and Neville still considered him a friend, but it gave him this feeling of paranoia that they might see how un-brave and un-clever he actually was, and whatever image they had in their head of who he was… he'd ruin it himself somehow.
He didn't realize he'd been clenching and unclenching his fists in the fabric of his cloak as he struggled and failed to come up with a response to Draco's questions with all that was racing around his head. Draco did however, and while Harry sat there in silence as he struggled, the Slytherin was staring at his hands and finally noticed something that made him inhale sharply.
Before Harry could ask, Draco had snatched one of his hands up in his own, causing him to startle a bit. The blond didn't really like touching people, he thought, so what was—
But he froze solid, realizing Draco was staring at his now scarred hands with wide grey eyes.
"What… what happened to your hands?"
Harry swallowed, his throat tight, trying to focus on how even Draco's hands felt cold like the August heat around them meant nothing instead of the creeping feeling of panic in his lungs. "Uh… it was an accident."
Draco narrowed his grey eyes sharply, not buying it for a second. "All of them? Harry…" The panic won and Harry wrenched his hand free, curling them both towards his stomach defensively. "Harry."
"Why don't you ask Dobby?" he snapped, and it was only seeing Draco's taken aback expression did he realize that a) the comment made no sense at all, and b) he regretted his thoughtless deflection immensely. "No… no, don't do that. I'm sorry, I just…"
"Dobby healed your hands, right? He said you cut your hands and that was the blood on the journal." Draco thankfully didn't get riled, but was just trying to piece things together still. "Blood you still haven't explained."
Harry clenched his jaw, and… when he put it like that, he knew he had what he wanted to say. No… what he was going to say, but what he wanted would have to come on a later day.
"Draco, I'm not going to."
"But why?"
If only I knew myself, he flexed his jaw tightly at the dark thoughts.
"Because I can't! Because I—I'm not—" he needed to pause a second to take a calming breath. "I'm not ready and I might never be ready."
Draco finally lost his cool and lashed out, Harry's heart skipping a beat as a cold hand wrapped around his wrist and yanked it forward with surprising strength. Or, Harry just wasn't as strong as he remembered being, but Draco was. Either way the blond did not let go even though Harry attempted to pull free, and he would've started panicking if Draco's words didn't freeze him solid in shock.
"And that would be fine if I weren't terrified you did this to yourself!"
…wait, what?
Draco held up his now-relaxed hand pointedly, pale white fingers stark against the new scars over Harry's own. And his grey eyes weren't angry, they were… frustrated.
And worried.
And… Harry felt like a terrible, terrible friend. He just… wasn't sure how to fix it.
Even if he told the truth, Draco would only be more frightened. He knew Draco would want to know the truth but… but for some reason it wasn't that easy. He knew he should be, but… the harsh reality was that it wasn't.
"Draco…what?" He asked in a small voice, although he had an awful feeling he already knew.
"I…" The blond took a deep breath of his own, sorting out his thoughts for a second and seeming to brace himself. But he showed a lot more bravery than Harry ever had by pressing forward anyway. "I know what those potions were for. I know you're not happy with your relatives. I just… I was worried okay? You've been noticeably depressed all summer, even over written words, and then suddenly our pages are covered in blood?" Harry couldn't help but wince at that, because when you put it like that he knew Draco was absolutely in the right. I mean he'd always been in the right, but this somehow made it worse. "Harry, you're an idiot. Of course I'm worried! Don't you dare tell me I've no right to be worried you absolute lunatic—you've been doing nothing but worrying me and being unrepentant about it!"
"…"
Harry wanted to answer, but he couldn't. He just… couldn't.
The words just wouldn't come.
So he slid a bit closer where they sat beside each other on the steps and hugged his friend again, burying himself into Draco's neck and although the Slytherin startled at the sudden change, he automatically hugged him back anyway. Thankfully they were out of sight from most of the rest of the alley, because Harry wasn't going to let go so quickly this time.
And that soothing coolness seemed to do wonders as Harry tried, really tried, to force himself to say something.
Anything. He deserves something.
"…I'm…m'sorry for… for worrying you. I didn't do it myself, it really was an accident. I promise." He got out weakly, and he felt Draco's shoulders slump a bit. Not quite in relief, but more like he was resigning himself.
"…all of them?" He grumbled doubtfully, and Harry felt his disbelief personally through the humming in his chest.
"Yeah, all of them. I was doing something… a project, and I… I kept slipping and cutting myself, I guess? And I'm the stubborn idiot who refused to stop or… or ask for help and I kept going. And I cut myself… a lot. Not because I wanted to cut myself but because I kept slipping and… and not caring that I was hurting myself." He winced, free to do so into Draco's shoulder so the blond wouldn't see. "I was looking for bandages in my bag and must've touched the journal by accident."
Thankfully that wasn't even a lie to admit, which was the only relief of this whole conversation.
For Draco's part, he was silent a long minute as they just existed for a moment, before the arms around him got noticeably tighter, if only slightly. "Not caring you were hurting yourself doesn't exactly comfort me, you know. Why wouldn't you stop? Or—or ask for help? My help?"
Ha.
Harry felt tears prick at the corner of his eyes, thankfully losing them immediately into Draco's robes.
"I really wish I could tell you. I… I don't know. I d-don't know why I didn't ask, and why I can't… talk. I don't know."
And he really, really hoped that didn't sound as broken as he felt to admit it.
"Harry… you know you can ask me for help, right? All the house rivalry stuff aside… I'd blow all my politics out of the water if you really needed help, you know that right?"
"Yeah," Harry gave a breath that might've been a wet laugh, if not for it lacking all the joyful emotions that should've been behind it. But it felt… calming, to know Draco really was telling the truth about that. That he would do that for him. It was… a relief, in some ways, that assurance. Like a safety net Harry hadn't even realized he'd been depending on for… who knows how long at this point. "Yeah, I know. I've known this whole summer if I'd just asked… just a word in our journal and you would've come and tried to help. I knew. It…it meant a lot, just knowing that."
"But…"
"No, I still didn't ask. And I… I should've." He winced again. "I just couldn't."
Draco gave a long suffering sigh and Harry let him have it. He was owed that much at least. He was owed more honestly, but that would have to be paid back another day… for today, Harry could let his friend be frustrated with him, because reasonably he had every right to be.
"If you ever find a reason, you have to tell me. Because I want to understand this." His voice was certainly frustrated enough for it. "Why you feel like you didn't want my help."
Harry finally let him go to push back and meet his grey eyes pointedly, because this deserved to be said to his face. "It's not like that, I swear! It's not that I didn't want or… or even maybe need your help." He tried to explain, faltering when he realized there really was nowhere to go with that.
"Then—" Draco cut himself off and gave another dramatic sigh. "No, it'll do no good to just keep asking why. Clearly I don't understand, but you have to promise to tell me if you ever figure it out." He demanded, almost briskly even. The worry in his eyes seemed to have lessened, and Harry felt better realizing they were… kind of regaining normalcy. That conversation wasn't… so rough—maybe because Draco really wasn't pushing that hard. He clearly wanted to, but Harry was relieved to the point of pain he seemed done for now.
He nodded deeply and eagerly, giving into the blond's demands more easily than he ever had before.
"Alright. I can do that." He promised, and be it Draco seeing how eager he was to move on from this for a moment or not, he scoffed loudly—but his eyes glinted a bit.
"You troublesome Gryffindor." He teased, and Harry felt himself smile.
It felt nice.
"Hey!" he defended himself with a weak laugh that didn't really seem to fill his lungs all the way, but that echo of cold snow came back as Draco leaned into his side pointedly. And the scars on his hands didn't actually hurt—they hadn't since Dobby snapped his fingers and fixed them—but Draco's cold hands over his own felt like a relief he hadn't even realized he was searching for.
(For some reason the cold felt familiar, but he couldn't begin to explain how.)
That feeling of normal and comfortable between the two of them flickered back to life like a candle struggling desperately to keep its flame, but Harry treasured it. He treasured it deeply as he pushed down the fear of talking to Draco that he'd felt only that morning to hopefully wither and die where it'd never, ever come back.
000
The clues had always been there. Since that very first day just over a year ago when they lost sight of Draco for five minutes and found him again with a red-headed omen on his arm, Lucius and Narcissa had always known. The thing was, they were Slytherins and this was so common in their world that even the flicker of sadness they felt at that morbid fact had long since disappeared to time and was now buried beneath the ice-cold granite they kept firmly over their souls.
It was why they were meant for each other. Stone-like Slytherins with poison in their veins and venom in their smiles, who cherished their child above all and before life itself. Where would you ever find such a weird combination? That was why even when they were still in Hogwarts they'd always known they were the match destined to be—the ones that would conquer the world.
Their ideals lined up perfectly, their combined fortunes were untouchable, and there was no one as wicked or as cunning or as devious a partner to play with and against as each other. Their marriage had been business to the core, and neither of them were actually romantically "in love", but both of them had been extremely pleased with the union even if they weren't passionate like the common masses thought the perfect lovey-dovey couple should be.
They were a perfect couple.
They were not in love.
A lot of people found that all but impossible to understand (if an outsider ever dared give their relationship much thought, that is) but it had always been this way to Lucious Malfoy and Narcissa Black, and since that day they reached their mutual agreement while both still students they had always remained on the same page. They knew exactly what each other would do in any given situation, because to be successful you had to know both your allies and your enemy better than you knew yourself, and on any given day they could easily be each other's ally or enemy. That was what made it so interesting.
A year ago, when they'd met a young Harry Potter leaning on their son and grinning at his new friend happily, they'd suspected. Approximately two minutes later after Hagrid had intruded and given the boy his arctic owl, they'd known.
The evidence?
1. Hagrid, the Dumbledore-brainwashed pawn that he was, would not call the child's relatives 'nasty muggles' if he did not very much mean it and they truly were nasty people not just outside of prejudice. If anything, Hagrid was prejudiced in favor of muggles thanks to who he took orders from, so the deviation was notable.
2. Harry Potter, one of the most famous people (much less child) in the wizarding world had been alone with only a Hogwarts guide on his first trip to Diagon Alley. No parents or guardians in sight.
3. That Hogwarts guide had been Hagrid of all people instead of McGonagall who historically did most of the muggleborn introductions, so that simply reeked of Dumbledore's grubby old hands plotting something. They were both fully aware of just how poorly the headmaster's pawns could be treated—look at Narcissa's foolhardy Gryffindor cousin for all the example you'd ever need, but rest assured there were many more.
4. The boy was so small and thin they'd both initially hoped he was just a younger Hogwarts-prospect who'd been named in honor of the Boy Who Lived, and not the menace himself.
5. The boy confessed himself he'd never had ice cream or gotten a present on his birthday before and seemed genuinely overwhelmed to be confronted with a gift.
There were of course other clues throughout the year as Draco was not that good at hiding things from them and he had a bad habit of rambling when he was writing letters home, but that evidence had all occurred within the first five minutes and allowed them to put together the pieces.
Harry Potter's homelife was likely abusive. Which, would rock the worlds of a lot of people could they possibly be smart enough to actually pay attention to what was so obvious in front of them, but Lucius and Narcissa were Slytherins and, let's be honest, most of Slytherin house did not have great homelives, ever.
Why, pray tell, was it so weird that they cherished their son after all? It was odd for a Slytherin to put anyone above themselves, including their own brood, but they'd always known they were a tad special.
Abuse bred abuse. People they'd known as children who came home from breaks hiding bruises under glamours were now adults that had thin and jumpy children of their own. The worst bullies at Hogwarts knew the nastiest spells because they'd felt it firsthand from a trusted source, and they continued the tradition by teaching their own offspring similarly. Severus used to come back to school with actively bleeding wounds and broken bones, spending the first couple days of term with Madam Pomfrey without fail, and had grown to be a teacher hell-bent on changing the broken circle of Slytherin families breaking each other. But he was one of the very few rare souls who broke the cycle themselves; most simply caved to it and repeated their parents' mistakes for both ease and the manipulative aspect of it all.
And if ever there was a reason beyond mere politics and convenience Lucius would admit to keeping his relationship with the young potions master in pristine condition, that would be it. Because while they felt no remorse in keeping to themselves to focus on their own priorities, they did admire that Severus' entire ambition seemed to be to protect his children.
(Another key reason he was perfect to be Draco's godfather.)
They did not feel the need to interfere with every abused child they happened across, because they'd need a journal just to keep them all straight honestly, and they had neither the interest nor the time for that kind of thing. Just because they knew within minutes upon meeting him that the boy was abused at home, did not incite sympathy or cause them any concern. Their actions after that introduction of the boy into their lives had been to move to accommodate Draco's position, that was it.
Draco's life would be different from their own. Lucius and Narcissa's parents had been no better than most others after all, and despite Harry Potter now knowing the cruciatus curse a little earlier in life than they had, it wasn't by much. They didn't pity the boy like they wouldn't pity any other Slytherin they knew—like they most certainly didn't pity themselves. Their upbringing had crafted them into who they were, and they were good snakes who knew exactly what they wanted out of their lives and for the life of their child. Harry Potter's upbringing would craft him into who he was, and it wasn't exactly their habit to go judging people for that, or worse interfering if it wasn't for their benefit.
Manipulating people into changing if who they were was inconvenient, however?
Without question.
But they were not in the practice of wondering why someone was they way that they were, and more in the business of simply understanding so that they may be used effectively at a later time. You are either manipulating people as pawns, or you yourself were the pawn, after all. So while they didn't know the details, that Harry Potter had a background more similar of that to a Slytherin than their own son had actually been a mild comfort for the past year—they could at least understand that about the intrusive dragon in their plans, and move to counter accordingly on ground they were more than familiar with.
Now though, things had changed slightly.
And it was only slightly, but it was enough to possibly warrant their involvement, if a mutually beneficial arrangement could be made, and as they watched the two boys slip out of their hiding spot in front of Gringotts to actually begin their shopping, Narcissa toyed with a few ideas that might just bear some fruit.
Of course they'd very subtly eavesdropped on that conversation—they would not be Slytherin parents if they didn't— but it really told them nothing they didn't already know or suspect. Having some things confirmed for certain was nice, but it only meant they really should be doing something about this now, and as they exchanged blank looks with one another, it was clear they were on the same page.
As always.
Now, it wasn't just the matter of understanding the boy, but it was also for Draco's continued sanity that this child be removed from his current situation. They'd both noted their son's many sleepless nights, and they too had seen the journal and made the same assumptions Draco had. If the boy died young, especially by his own hand, Draco would never recover from that. They had assumed the boy would continue on and at least survive the abuse as was common, no matter what else may happen, but the drastic drop in weight that was clear from only a couple months ago and every line of his body language clinging to Draco for dear life when they'd met up just now, proved they'd probably overestimated this eleven-year-old's capabilities.
(It also reminded Lucius to punish Dobby for being an idiot because the boy's hands on Draco's back where he'd hugged their son were scarred deeply—the elf could not be that stupid as to heal the boy and leave him disfigured like that. It was well within a house elf's abilities to remove most traces of injury in something simple like a cut, no matter how deep they evidently were. Seriously what on earth was wrong with that thing…)
In any case, it suddenly this went from being something they were simply aware of, to a potential threat to Draco they would need to address before it got any worse. They boy had Slytherin-like qualities, but clearly he wasn't actually cut from the exact same cloth and he was not handling it like they'd anticipated. An error on their part, but one that was likely not too late to rectify with some careful thought.
Besides, getting him out from under Dumbledore's care would be a lovely bonus if they played their cards right.
You see, it was always a concern, noting how blatantly Dumbledore was trying to pin the Potter child under his thumb. Sending Hagrid as his guide was in no way subtle, but only really a Slytherin would notice, and prior to befriending a Malfoy, no Slytherin would actually care.
No duh Harry Potter would be the Light champion and Dumbledore's little play thing. He really was just a child with a big, frankly unearned reputation that most of the wizarding world would fall beneath, and if there was one thing Dumbledore didn't like, it was competition. So it was painfully obvious that Potter, a reasonably normal eleven-year-old, would fall under the headmaster's manipulations and that was that. No Slytherin thought that wasn't going to happen and also it changed nothing as Harry Potter was always going to be an enemy in one way or another. If he was working independently or under Dumbledore, who cares? In fact, it was almost preferred he was under Dumbledore's thumb as the old coot was a known enemy, and Slytherins loved a known enemy far more than any unknown entity.
But then Harry Potter had actually arrived in the wizarding world and befriended a Malfoy, and suddenly that was not so obvious at all.
They were still concerned, because Dumbledore was not an enemy to face on a whim, and they'd known in the first five minutes of meeting the boy that the headmaster wanted him as a pawn, and if they got involved it'd be open season on Slytherins for a while. They could probably handle it, but during Draco's first year at Hogwarts? Even with Severus there to protect him, there were still so many ways the headmaster of the school could make Draco's introduction to Hogwarts hell, and the old bastard was more than willing to use children against his enemies.
He'd done it before, and it left a bitter taste in Narcissa's mouth in particular as it'd been her family who'd suffered the most for his damned light-sided machinations.
Now though, thanks to both Draco's work and the surprise ploy Potter himself had done, their positions at Hogwarts were reasonably safe for now. That combined with Severus working to protect him, even if Dumbledore did get wind that they were involved with something working directly against his own plans, Draco would likely still be safe. They were still going to be as subtle about it as possible to minimize the risk, but the risk was inherently lower now compared to a year ago as if they'd been waiting for the right moment to strike and now was the time to do so.
Now, they had the opportunity to get involved and that slight concern over Dumbledore's involvement could actually be dealt with. They had a chance and now an increased motivation compared to last year to do so.
They'd never been pleased with the idea that their son was getting close to Harry Potter, however that wasn't something they could change (they had no wish to disappoint their son in that way) but while they were fixing this issue of the boy's abusive relatives, they could perhaps kill two birds with one stone and also fix the matter of their son getting close to a Dumbledore pawn. The boy's reputation was one thing to contend with, but if he weren't being manipulated by Dumbledore then he could be manipulated by them.
Which sounded worse than it was—they simply wished for the boy to never cause their son's smile to disappear, which he should be on board with.
Or else.
In any case, the question now became what to do about it—how to ensure he did not die young and how to ensure he was not going to end up a Dumbledore pawn. The boy (Harry, perhaps they should begin to reference him as seeing how involved they were planning to become—and Gryffindors preferred first names on the most part for some reason) clearly had a rough summer with his muggle relatives. He was unnaturally thin, and despite hiding it well still had circles beneath his eyes. If they knew anything, which they did, he was likely alone right now and having gotten free of his relatives was not going to go back to them for the rest of this summer if he had any sense at all. If he did scamper back to his abusers of his own free will, he was beyond their help, frankly.
If he was alone, the thinness around his face meant he had not seen a healer and likely did not know how to go about doing so—or perhaps wasn't willing. Either way the first thing they'd need to do was get some nutrition potions into him; perhaps a tip to Severus to give him a detention delivering potions to the hospital wing would do it—Pomfrey would see his poor health a mile away and that would take care of that at least. No matter her affiliations she was a good healer.
Barring nothing dramatic happening, he would be fine while at Hogwarts if he kept close to Draco and the other Slytherins, and now that he was in their good graces it wasn't likely Dumbledore would make too much progress in making him a pawn—most of the headmaster's people were in Gryffindor, after all. They could order Draco to keep him close which he likely wasn't going to argue too much about, and they could probably coordinate similar orders with other families. The Zabini and Greengrass families would simply be a matter of business in exchange for that small favor, and a couple others owed a small favor here and there—thankfully with the boys' (Harry's) position within the snake house not as abysmal as it once was, that part would likely go pretty smoothly actually.
Lucius would have to meet with Severus and explain in depth about why he needed to not give the boy detention until he graduated if he caught him in the Slytherin common room this year, and that would be a troublesome confrontation, but they did have two weeks before the start of term to get to work on it that particular battle.
The real question would be what to do once the school year ended. The boy, to be totally free of Dumbledore's manipulations, would need to be removed from his current situation and placed with a neutral party or at least a party that wouldn't cave to what the old man wanted. Clearly he wanted the boy to be meek and abused—prime pawn material—so not with abusive guardians for one. That would also probably make Draco happy too, and if it ever came to light that they'd helped save the boy from a terrible circumstance, probably win them a lot of points in their son's eyes which they wouldn't be too upset about.
So, not Dumbledore, not one of Dumbledore's pawns, and not someone abusive that would only feed into Dumbledore's overall plan. It also had to be someone Harry himself would willingly go to, someone that would willing take him at that, and someone who would let the boy be himself to make his own choices—choices that would hopefully involve keeping Draco happy in some aspect, that is. And on that note they couldn't be a guardian that would be outright against Slytherins and interfere with the two boys relationship, of course—they weren't going anywhere so it'd have to be someone not outright against the Malfoy name in particular, or who wouldn't immediately keep them at arm's length out of suspicion they were plotting something.
Which, they were, but someone not primed to try and outmaneuver or work against them like a fellow snake absolutely would try to do simply for the pride of it all, would be optimal. So… snake-like, but not actually a snake themselves.
To be honest, it was a difficult conundrum and no immediate answer presented itself. They would need to think of a solution quickly though, as it might take all year to arrange it so that Harry could go to a new home by the time the school term ended and do it subtly enough that Dumbledore wouldn't immediately know they were behind it. As they didn't know who they were going to pick, they didn't know how long it'd take to craft a plan and put it to action.
Narcissa had an idea though… a rather bad one, she admitted, but one that she'd been thinking about for over a decade at this point. And if Lucius agreed to it, they were going to need every spare second they could get to do it before next June.
Still, this was a discussion for home, not while they were walking calmly down Diagon Alley where anyone could overhear them, so they simply looped arms and continued their walk, discussing potential things to buy and where best to buy them while they let their son finish his shopping trip.
000
"Oh no."
Harry looked up, not sure what Draco looked so unhappy about as they rounded a corner in a rather crowded Flourish & Blotts.
"What's wrong?"
"What was that bookstore in the other alley called again?"
The redhead blinked, taken a bit off guard at the sudden question. He had actually managed to get Draco down into Contrair Alley but as he'd expected Draco was… kind of interested but also not about to buy anything there. He'd let himself be dragged up and down it, Harry pointing out the Odd Solutions he thought were cool, and even had a very brief conversation with Osmias about those poison-detecting glasses which Draco admitted were probably a good investment for Slytherin families with young children, but they hadn't stayed long. The Slytherin side of him was probably still too hyperaware of who might see him down there and Harry had already figured that would likely be the case so they'd spent only a short amount of time to see it before heading back up to Diagon to actually get some shopping done.
And shopping with Draco was actually a lot more fun, compared to last year where he'd shopped on his own following the advice he'd been given via letters. Now that he actually had a year of magical education under his belt to know generally what he needed and Draco beside him to discuss the pros and cons of some things versus others, the process was a lot more enjoyable, like they were actually hanging out instead of doing errands.
The casual atmosphere they'd slowly been regaining after a tense morning and a slightly less tense lunch together, seemed to disappear suddenly as Draco clammed up. Him asking about a bookstore in the alley he hadn't wanted to visit in the first place set Harry's alarm bells off, too.
"Bethany's Books, but you didn't want to go in. What's wrong Draco?"
"Just hide," He huffed, pulling them behind the nearest bookshelf and peering through the tomes which Harry dutifully copied even though he had no idea why. "Remember I was telling you about that dud of a DADA teacher Dumbledore was rumored to have hired?"
Harry blinked, the words ringing a bell but not quite being able to recall specifically. He'd been distracted at the time, sue him.
"Uh, I think? The one you said was a fake."
"Yep." The blond scowled unhappily, and pointed between the rows of books. "That would be him."
Curious, Harry peered between the books to get a glimpse himself and realized the store wasn't just crowded with kids getting their school texts, but with a lot of witches of all ages who seemed to be clustered around a man with a small mountain of books displayed behind him. With his brand new contacts he could even make out the titles, and realized those were their Defense textbooks for this year. They were… all very sparkly with gold and silver accents making them like shelf pieces rather than textbooks.
The center of all the commotion was a man with a rather impressive head of golden hair he obviously had some magical hair products Harry himself was familiar with in, and a mega-watt smile that gave you this odd urge to blink if you looked directly at. He was loudly talking to the tittering witches and signing copies—of their textbooks?
"Is he… signing textbooks?"
"They're not actually textbooks, not really. They're his autobiographies of sorts, tales of his adventures if you actually believe any of it happened. Which, according to my father, most likely did not."
Harry frowned, but after reading enough Transfiguration texts over the year and his bank statements every month telling him how much money in royalties he was making off people having publish books about him without ever having met him, he knew for a fact the wizarding world didn't care about truth in the things they read. Hell, even just the things he'd heard people talk about having read from the Daily Prophet—which was one of their only newspapers—was all trashy gossip at best, slanderous libel at worst.
The books could say anything, and so long as it was interesting people would buy them. It didn't matter if a single word in it was true.
Which was a foreboding sign for a guy who was supposed to be their teacher this year and essentially got a bunch of free sales by forcing his students to buy his books.
Harry might've given him a pass if he were doing it for conniving purposes, like a Slytherin would to get ahead—to each their own ambition after all. However the sheer distaste on Draco's face meant he probably wasn't doing it for reasons a Slytherin would actually approve of.
"So uh… why are we hiding?" He wondered aloud.
Draco blinked and the tips of his ears turned pink. "Uh… actually my mother said to avoid him if we could. I think she knew he'd be here and she said if he saw you he'd make a scene."
"Wait what?" Harry blinked, both startled at the amount of information Lady Malfoy somehow had access to, and also that she'd care enough to preemptively warn her son about it. If he knew anything about how they loved to spoil their son, Harry suspected it was mainly for Draco's benefit instead of his own, but wasn't quite sure how the two connected.
"Father calls him a glory hound. I'm pretty sure Mother knows something else but she wouldn't say specifics." Draco explained, and that pretty much solidified that the elder Malfoys were plotting something but Harry was all about avoiding making a scene.
He'd mentally called Ron Weasley a glory hound in his head for months after all, so he could probably imagine what kind of scene it'd be, and given the crowd of women in the tiny shop right now… yeah, no thanks.
"Did you actually want to go back to Bethany's or do you just want to get books another day? Did you have any other summer plans or could we meet up another day to talk books specifically?" He proposed and Draco perked up at that idea.
"I like that idea better—let's get out of here." He agreed, and Harry made to stand up when he suddenly focused on the book he was hiding behind instead of the scene beyond them, and blinked.
"Woah, what's this?"
"Hm?" Draco was already halfway gone before he needed to stop.
Harry picked up the book on the shelf and blinked. "The Party Trick Transfiguration Guide? They have joke books like this?" He immediately opened it and perked up in interest that the first spell was showing how to conjure flowers on the tip of your wand. That was a muggle trick he thought, and also going by the equation beneath the wand movement diagram totally within his capabilities right then—also, it wasn't a joke book!? "Oh my god this is awesome, I absolutely need it,"
"Harry, get it later! Let's go," Draco tried to come back to take it from him but he just clutched it to his chest.
"Draco you don't understand!"
"I will buy you all the Transfiguration books you want later."
"But-!" how could he explain that this seemed genuinely fun? It was so stupidly lighthearted he was struck with surprise that he was actually in the mood for something silly like this but also sincerely wanted something so… senselessly easy to enjoy for one moment. Something simple.
"How were you planning to get it without anyone seeing?" Draco demanded impatiently.
"It'll take two seconds, please?" He begged playfully.
"Oh my god we're going to get caught!"
"Then watch my back for two seconds!" he was darting around the bookshelf before Draco could even fully form his protest, but followed suit anyway.
He ran up to the purchase desk which was thankfully empty and slipped a couple galleons from his pockets although he guessed a book like this wouldn't cost nearly so much—the clerk just smiled politely at him and picked the book up to check the price.
Like the universe was just waiting for it though, he heard Draco make a small sound of horror behind him.
"Harry Potter? The Harry Potter? My boy, how excellent it is to meet you!" A loud voice interrupted him and the girl behind the register looked over his shoulder and flushed a bit.
Harry turned, and saw Draco looking equally as horrified by the man walking up to them—blond hair and too-big smile completely disregarding the many people he was walking through and the fact he'd interrupted him as he approached.
In seconds he was all but on them— "My name's Gilderoy Lockhart, my boy! Tommy come take a picture of us, I'd reckon together we'd make the front page!" He was talking mostly to the crowd around them and it was with a bleated sort of terror Harry realized there was a stout man with a huge camera trailing after the celebrity author who lifted the device the same moment an arm plopped around his shoulders with surprising force and almost caused him to stumble.
"Wait what?" he said cleverly shocked and instantly short-circuiting from being manhandled.
Thankfully, while he was so taken off guard he might've let it happen only to immediately regret it probably, Draco didn't hesitate and lunged forward to interfere.
"Free signed copies!?" He exclaimed loud enough that pretty much the whole store heard him—and in exactly two seconds they could heard nothing through the din of women all shouting at each other and clambering to get someplace that didn't actually exist, the man with the camera getting jostled hard and although the flash went off Harry seriously doubted he'd actually gotten anything good.
In fact, Harry was so shocked and confused by the sudden chaos he jumped a bit as a cold hand wrapped around his wrist and pulled him from a too-loud bookstore into the open light of an equally, if not much more regulated chaos of Diagon Alley's street.
"What?" he balked, his head spinning. He snapped his neck towards Draco who was looking pissy as ever at people in general but his cheeks were a dusty pink from embarrassment at that too. "Draco what? That was...pff—!" he couldn't help it, laughter bubbled up into his chest before he could stop it.
"It's not that funny." The blond pouted, kicking the street while his cheeks turned a bit darker.
Harry burst out laughing. "Oh my god! That was brilliant! That was—" He couldn't talk for a few seconds as bursts of laughter seemed to attack him. "You—that was almost Gryffindor-ish—what the hell!? You— you just—ha!"
It felt so good to laugh.
And it was so legitimately funny, seeing Draco's instinct work quicker than his logic for once, and it was bloody hilarious.
Draco disagreed with a sheepish scowl. "It's not that funny!"
"You've been hanging out with Dean too much!" Harry laughed in his face, and the Slytherin's temple twitched.
"I have not!"
"You wanna tell me that Blaise would've done that?" He challenged and Draco was brought up short before tossing his hands in the air.
"Well maybe? Who the bloody hell knows what that pompous loon would do!"
Harry couldn't handle it and dissolved into fits of giggles because Draco wasn't wrong exactly, you couldn't actually predict the Zabini heir, but he just could not imagine Blaise actually doing something so random but in trying to form the mental picture he just lost it again.
And maybe Draco was right, and neither Dean nor Blaise would do something like that—maybe it was just something Draco would do, and Harry just found he loved his friend all the more for it.
A Slytherin, who was cold when it counted but was hands down ready to instigate chaos apparently.
Harry only shut up when Draco groaned in annoyance and pressed a book into his arms and he had to do a double take to realize it was his joke book. "Are you happy now?"
"Draco did you steal this!?"
"Like hell!" He snapped, then colored a bit. "I might've nicked it but we're going back another day, I'll pay them then. Let's just say it's an unofficial tab."
Harry grinned and clutched it tighter to his chest, mind flashing to the spell he'd just seen and pulled out his wand. Draco watched him warily as he made a simple motion directly in his face—
"Orchideous," He said clearly and a plume of purple and white flowers of many sorts—many that didn't even come in purple or white—bloomed into existence, causing the Slytherin to blink widely. "Thank you Draco," He smiled genuinely, and the blond sighed a very put-upon sigh as he took the flowers pointedly.
"Did you really just learn that spell?"
"I like Transfiguration."
"So I noticed." Draco rolled his eye and pulled him farther down the alley to get clear of the bookstore chaos. "We only have an hour left and if we're going to finish shopping another day let's just get ice cream. And also avoid that bloody milksop while he's still in Diagon." He complained promptly.
Harry just grinned and went along for the ride, feeling a distinct relief in how light he suddenly was.