Fic: September Morn (Part Four) - REPOST
After some confusion because I posted this originally on my frances_potter journal, I've decided that trying to run two journal with unrelated names is a bad idea. it will much easier if I keep this journal (dragon_charmer as my main journal. I will post archive links on the other journal, linking back to here.
Sorry for the confusion, what I thought was a good idea clearly was not (whoever said Gryffindors were good at planning?)
Part Five should be posted later.
Part One
Part Two
Part Three
September Morn
A post-Hogwarts H/D story
Rating PG (at the moment)
Part Four of Possibly Seven
For auxiliary_sabre
Beta-ed by the every patient olivia_lupin
********************
Harry’s life had always been one of contrasts.
As a child he had been aware of how differently he was treated than Dudley -- of how his cousin got the best of everything while he got the leftovers -- and how differently he was also treated in the Wizarding world. As an adult it was still very much the same, and the stark contrast between the dungeon he’d spent the last few days in and the room he was now standing in only proved to confirm this in his albeit still muddled mind.
His hand rested on the carved wooden back of the chair in what he hoped looked a nonchalant manner. The fact was he was actually using it to stop himself from crumbling in a heap on the parquet floor of the Malfoy’s dining room. He tried to look equally nonchalant as his gaze travelled round the room, but in truth he was drinking in the sight, desperate to take in every detail from the portraits on the walls to the long dining table.
This was where Draco had grown up, where he’d eaten his meals. He might even have sat in the very chair Harry’s hand now rested on and as Harry took in the grandeur of the room, he thought he understood Draco just a little more. This was the home Draco had given up when he’d walked away at the end of his seventh year at Hogwarts. How many years ago was that? He tried to work it out ... was it five or six? He finally settled on six, more than a little shocked to think that the war had been going on for that long.
“You may sit down, Harry. The chair isn’t hexed.”
Lucius took his place at the head of the table; no doubt his normal position. A house-elf stood behind the chair, pushing it in as Lucius sat. The elf started to fiddle with the napkin on its master’s lap, but Lucius clipped it around the head, sending it scurrying away.
“I’m sure you will enjoy the tea, it comes from our estates in Ceylon. Or are you a coffee drinker?”
Harry could smell the tea even before someone appeared at his side and began pouring it into the delicate cup. The maid bobbed a curtsy and moved quickly to Lucius, pouring coffee into his cup.
“You look surprised, Harry, didn’t you think we’d have human staff? Of course, we have only the best here; this is Ardina, one of our house-hold retinue.” Lucius reached out and gave the girl a light tap on her behind. “She comes from a good pureblood family but is a squib. Say hello to Harry Potter, girl.” He squeezed at the girl’s bottom.
She blushed and as she met Harry’s gaze and he thought he saw fear in her eyes mingling with just a little hope. He’d seen that look many times in the past -- it said ‘please help me’. “Hello, sir.” Her voice was mumbled, quiet.
Harry nodded in response, not sure just what to say. He was as much Lucius’ prisoner as the girl clearly was and couldn’t help her, at least not at the moment.
“Get on and serve, girl.” Lucius watched her for a moment. “Haven’t you ever wondered what happens to the witches and wizards not good enough to go to places such as Hogwarts?” He looked at Harry with the same expression Harry had so often seen on Draco’s face. “Not everyone gets that oh, so coveted letter from Hogwarts. They have to find some other way to be educated.” There was a pause as Lucius spooned sugar into his coffee. “How does it feel to have been educated in an elitist establishment, Harry?”
“Hogwarts wasn’t like that.”
“No? Then where do you think those not clever enough went? Do you think there were really only thirty-eight children born in the same year as you? Isn’t that how many joined in your year?” Lucius scowled at him. “Either sit or I will have that chair taken away.”
Harry sat; his legs had been trembling with fatigue and he was grateful for the support. “I’m sure you didn’t bring me here to discuss the ethics of wizard education.”
“Of course not.” Lucius picked up his knife and fork. “I brought you here to share breakfast with me and I’m sure we will find things to discuss later. Now, eat.” He indicated Harry’s full plate with a wave of his fork. “It’s quite safe. Ardina served us both from the same dishes, unless you think I might have poisoned myself as well....” The words hung in the air between them for a moment before Lucius began to eat.
Harry watched. He was hungry and it smelled so good. The situation was surreal ... sitting here having breakfast with Lucius Malfoy, the person who had gone out of his way to try and kill Harry in the past. “I’m not hungry.”
“As you wish.” Lucius shrugged. “But I’m sure you won’t mind if I eat.”
Silence fell over the table and Harry was tempted to get up, but where would he go? He had no wand and still couldn’t latch onto any sort of magic. The sensation of being separated from magic made him feel vulnerable and somehow lost. Maybe he should pick up a fork and drive it into Lucius’ hand or thigh. Maybe he should just eat something ... just a little couldn’t hurt.
He reached for his fork and finally dug into some of the scrambled egg.
“Of course, nothing is free -- not even breakfast. There is a payment for everything.”
Harry raised his chin defiantly as he pinned Lucius with a stare. “I wouldn’t expect anything from you to be free.”
“Then shall we start with this?” Lucius’ hand hovered over the table for a moment before reaching out to grab something out of thin air. It was the crystal wand Harry had stolen. “Tell me where the sphere is.”
“Now, why would I do that?”
“To make it easier on yourself. We will find out where you and your little group of fanatics are holed up eventually. You can’t say hidden forever and even you must know this is a war you can’t win.”
“I wouldn’t be fighting it if I didn’t think I would win.” Harry put his fork down and steepled his fingers. “Voldemort might have the upper hand at the moment, but it’s not going to stay like that. People won’t put up with his atrocities for much longer. And thank you.”
“For what?”
“For asking me about the sphere. Now I know that Draco got away.”
“Do you think I would kill my own son?”
“I don’t think you care who you kill. Just because Draco’s your son, it doesn’t mean you won’t destroy him like you’ve destroyed so many other people.”
Lucius looked shocked. “Harry, you wound me. My son -- and my grandson -- are very precious to me. But there is one thing that I’ve always been intrigued to know. What did you do to Draco?”
“Me?” Now it was Harry’s turn to look shocked.
“Yes, you. What spell did you put on him to make him leave?”
For a moment Harry could do nothing but look at Lucius, then he laughed out loud. “Lucius, as much as you don’t want to believe it, I had nothing to do with Draco leaving you. He did that of his own free will, just like all the choices he’s made since getting rid of you.” There was a growing sneer in his voice and he was pleased to see annoyance in the older man’s grey eyes. “You are just going to have to accept he isn’t yours to command anymore.”
“And is he yours? Does he follow you like some faithful puppy dog waiting to fulfil your every command?”
“Well, if that’s the way you brought your son up, then who am I to ruin any illusion?”
Harry parried the question automatically, but he could easily have told Lucius the truth; Draco was most definitely his own person with his own ethics. He had only found out that Draco had left his family after it had happened. Then he’d watched as Draco had overcome the distrust within Dumbledore’s army and he’d slowly but surely fallen in love with the other boy.
Of course, he’d never told Draco of his real feelings apart from one drunken kiss at New Year nearly four years ago. Earlier that same evening Draco had chosen the party as the place to announce his wedding to Melissa, a distant relative of the Black family. Harry had been devastated, but then Draco had asked him to be his best man. The wedding had been a disaster for Harry; having to watch Draco marry and pretend to be happy about it, while all he really wanted to do was push the groom up against the wall and kiss him until Draco realised just how Harry felt about him.
Occasionally, when Draco looked at him, Harry thought he saw something in those grey eyes that make him think Draco might just feel the same way, but they had never kissed again or talked about their feelings. Men didn’t do that did they? At least not in the middle of a war.
“You’ve stopped eating, Harry. Have you had your fill?”
Staring at his plate, Harry was surprised to see how much he had eaten. He looked at Lucius and saw the man was smiling knowingly. Then he felt it -- a growing feeling of disorientation in his mind and the feeling that he was losing control of his body. “Fuck.” The word was a hiss as he struggled from the chair. He’d been drugged or charmed or something and his only thoughts now were to try and get away.
His foot caught around the leg of the chair as he scrambled away, causing him to stumble over the edge of a carpet. As the strength started to go from his limbs, he floundered, finally ending up sprawled on the parquet floor. In his line of vision he could see Lucius coming to his feet, expensive boots clicking on the floor.
“Harry, my boy, didn’t your Muggle family ever tell you the story of Sleeping Beauty and the poisoned apple? Just because my breakfast was fine, doesn’t mean that yours was.”
“It’s Snow White,” Harry managed to gasp as he dug his fingernails into the cracks between the floorboards in an attempt to drag himself away, “Sleeping ... Beauty ... was....” He felt as helpless as a day-old kitten. “...Was....”
As Harry finally stilled, panting for breath, he was aware of Lucius crouching down beside him.
“Do you think I really care, Harry?”
“Yes!” The word was spoken through a mist of pain. “You hate being wrong.” He was aware of the other man pushing fingers into his hair, the gesture surprisingly gentle.
“There are many questions the Dark Lord wants me to ask you, including the location of your headquarters. But first....”
The fingers tightened, suddenly gripping into the untidy black hair as Lucius pulled, dragging Harry’s head from the ground. “First I want you to tell me where my grandson is.”
~~~ End of Part Four
17th September 2004
Sorry for the confusion, what I thought was a good idea clearly was not (whoever said Gryffindors were good at planning?)
Part Five should be posted later.
Part One
Part Two
Part Three
September Morn
A post-Hogwarts H/D story
Rating PG (at the moment)
Part Four of Possibly Seven
For auxiliary_sabre
Beta-ed by the every patient olivia_lupin
********************
Harry’s life had always been one of contrasts.
As a child he had been aware of how differently he was treated than Dudley -- of how his cousin got the best of everything while he got the leftovers -- and how differently he was also treated in the Wizarding world. As an adult it was still very much the same, and the stark contrast between the dungeon he’d spent the last few days in and the room he was now standing in only proved to confirm this in his albeit still muddled mind.
His hand rested on the carved wooden back of the chair in what he hoped looked a nonchalant manner. The fact was he was actually using it to stop himself from crumbling in a heap on the parquet floor of the Malfoy’s dining room. He tried to look equally nonchalant as his gaze travelled round the room, but in truth he was drinking in the sight, desperate to take in every detail from the portraits on the walls to the long dining table.
This was where Draco had grown up, where he’d eaten his meals. He might even have sat in the very chair Harry’s hand now rested on and as Harry took in the grandeur of the room, he thought he understood Draco just a little more. This was the home Draco had given up when he’d walked away at the end of his seventh year at Hogwarts. How many years ago was that? He tried to work it out ... was it five or six? He finally settled on six, more than a little shocked to think that the war had been going on for that long.
“You may sit down, Harry. The chair isn’t hexed.”
Lucius took his place at the head of the table; no doubt his normal position. A house-elf stood behind the chair, pushing it in as Lucius sat. The elf started to fiddle with the napkin on its master’s lap, but Lucius clipped it around the head, sending it scurrying away.
“I’m sure you will enjoy the tea, it comes from our estates in Ceylon. Or are you a coffee drinker?”
Harry could smell the tea even before someone appeared at his side and began pouring it into the delicate cup. The maid bobbed a curtsy and moved quickly to Lucius, pouring coffee into his cup.
“You look surprised, Harry, didn’t you think we’d have human staff? Of course, we have only the best here; this is Ardina, one of our house-hold retinue.” Lucius reached out and gave the girl a light tap on her behind. “She comes from a good pureblood family but is a squib. Say hello to Harry Potter, girl.” He squeezed at the girl’s bottom.
She blushed and as she met Harry’s gaze and he thought he saw fear in her eyes mingling with just a little hope. He’d seen that look many times in the past -- it said ‘please help me’. “Hello, sir.” Her voice was mumbled, quiet.
Harry nodded in response, not sure just what to say. He was as much Lucius’ prisoner as the girl clearly was and couldn’t help her, at least not at the moment.
“Get on and serve, girl.” Lucius watched her for a moment. “Haven’t you ever wondered what happens to the witches and wizards not good enough to go to places such as Hogwarts?” He looked at Harry with the same expression Harry had so often seen on Draco’s face. “Not everyone gets that oh, so coveted letter from Hogwarts. They have to find some other way to be educated.” There was a pause as Lucius spooned sugar into his coffee. “How does it feel to have been educated in an elitist establishment, Harry?”
“Hogwarts wasn’t like that.”
“No? Then where do you think those not clever enough went? Do you think there were really only thirty-eight children born in the same year as you? Isn’t that how many joined in your year?” Lucius scowled at him. “Either sit or I will have that chair taken away.”
Harry sat; his legs had been trembling with fatigue and he was grateful for the support. “I’m sure you didn’t bring me here to discuss the ethics of wizard education.”
“Of course not.” Lucius picked up his knife and fork. “I brought you here to share breakfast with me and I’m sure we will find things to discuss later. Now, eat.” He indicated Harry’s full plate with a wave of his fork. “It’s quite safe. Ardina served us both from the same dishes, unless you think I might have poisoned myself as well....” The words hung in the air between them for a moment before Lucius began to eat.
Harry watched. He was hungry and it smelled so good. The situation was surreal ... sitting here having breakfast with Lucius Malfoy, the person who had gone out of his way to try and kill Harry in the past. “I’m not hungry.”
“As you wish.” Lucius shrugged. “But I’m sure you won’t mind if I eat.”
Silence fell over the table and Harry was tempted to get up, but where would he go? He had no wand and still couldn’t latch onto any sort of magic. The sensation of being separated from magic made him feel vulnerable and somehow lost. Maybe he should pick up a fork and drive it into Lucius’ hand or thigh. Maybe he should just eat something ... just a little couldn’t hurt.
He reached for his fork and finally dug into some of the scrambled egg.
“Of course, nothing is free -- not even breakfast. There is a payment for everything.”
Harry raised his chin defiantly as he pinned Lucius with a stare. “I wouldn’t expect anything from you to be free.”
“Then shall we start with this?” Lucius’ hand hovered over the table for a moment before reaching out to grab something out of thin air. It was the crystal wand Harry had stolen. “Tell me where the sphere is.”
“Now, why would I do that?”
“To make it easier on yourself. We will find out where you and your little group of fanatics are holed up eventually. You can’t say hidden forever and even you must know this is a war you can’t win.”
“I wouldn’t be fighting it if I didn’t think I would win.” Harry put his fork down and steepled his fingers. “Voldemort might have the upper hand at the moment, but it’s not going to stay like that. People won’t put up with his atrocities for much longer. And thank you.”
“For what?”
“For asking me about the sphere. Now I know that Draco got away.”
“Do you think I would kill my own son?”
“I don’t think you care who you kill. Just because Draco’s your son, it doesn’t mean you won’t destroy him like you’ve destroyed so many other people.”
Lucius looked shocked. “Harry, you wound me. My son -- and my grandson -- are very precious to me. But there is one thing that I’ve always been intrigued to know. What did you do to Draco?”
“Me?” Now it was Harry’s turn to look shocked.
“Yes, you. What spell did you put on him to make him leave?”
For a moment Harry could do nothing but look at Lucius, then he laughed out loud. “Lucius, as much as you don’t want to believe it, I had nothing to do with Draco leaving you. He did that of his own free will, just like all the choices he’s made since getting rid of you.” There was a growing sneer in his voice and he was pleased to see annoyance in the older man’s grey eyes. “You are just going to have to accept he isn’t yours to command anymore.”
“And is he yours? Does he follow you like some faithful puppy dog waiting to fulfil your every command?”
“Well, if that’s the way you brought your son up, then who am I to ruin any illusion?”
Harry parried the question automatically, but he could easily have told Lucius the truth; Draco was most definitely his own person with his own ethics. He had only found out that Draco had left his family after it had happened. Then he’d watched as Draco had overcome the distrust within Dumbledore’s army and he’d slowly but surely fallen in love with the other boy.
Of course, he’d never told Draco of his real feelings apart from one drunken kiss at New Year nearly four years ago. Earlier that same evening Draco had chosen the party as the place to announce his wedding to Melissa, a distant relative of the Black family. Harry had been devastated, but then Draco had asked him to be his best man. The wedding had been a disaster for Harry; having to watch Draco marry and pretend to be happy about it, while all he really wanted to do was push the groom up against the wall and kiss him until Draco realised just how Harry felt about him.
Occasionally, when Draco looked at him, Harry thought he saw something in those grey eyes that make him think Draco might just feel the same way, but they had never kissed again or talked about their feelings. Men didn’t do that did they? At least not in the middle of a war.
“You’ve stopped eating, Harry. Have you had your fill?”
Staring at his plate, Harry was surprised to see how much he had eaten. He looked at Lucius and saw the man was smiling knowingly. Then he felt it -- a growing feeling of disorientation in his mind and the feeling that he was losing control of his body. “Fuck.” The word was a hiss as he struggled from the chair. He’d been drugged or charmed or something and his only thoughts now were to try and get away.
His foot caught around the leg of the chair as he scrambled away, causing him to stumble over the edge of a carpet. As the strength started to go from his limbs, he floundered, finally ending up sprawled on the parquet floor. In his line of vision he could see Lucius coming to his feet, expensive boots clicking on the floor.
“Harry, my boy, didn’t your Muggle family ever tell you the story of Sleeping Beauty and the poisoned apple? Just because my breakfast was fine, doesn’t mean that yours was.”
“It’s Snow White,” Harry managed to gasp as he dug his fingernails into the cracks between the floorboards in an attempt to drag himself away, “Sleeping ... Beauty ... was....” He felt as helpless as a day-old kitten. “...Was....”
As Harry finally stilled, panting for breath, he was aware of Lucius crouching down beside him.
“Do you think I really care, Harry?”
“Yes!” The word was spoken through a mist of pain. “You hate being wrong.” He was aware of the other man pushing fingers into his hair, the gesture surprisingly gentle.
“There are many questions the Dark Lord wants me to ask you, including the location of your headquarters. But first....”
The fingers tightened, suddenly gripping into the untidy black hair as Lucius pulled, dragging Harry’s head from the ground. “First I want you to tell me where my grandson is.”
~~~ End of Part Four
17th September 2004