[From Litha to Lammas]: A Name Like Henry, sequel to How Like Hatred, gen, PG-13, 2/3
Part One.
Title: A Name Like Henry (2/3)
Disclaimer: J. K. Rowling and associates own these characters. I am writing this story for fun and not profit.
Pairings: Background Lucius/Narcissa, otherwise gen
Content Notes: Angst, major AU (Harry is Draco’s twin brother), discussion of canonical child abuse
Wordcount: This part 3500
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Sequel to “How Like Hatred.” When Harry goes back to school after Christmas holidays as Henry Malfoy, he has to cope with friends, professors, and just about everyone else having an opinion on his new name and appearance. And that’s not to mention his smotheringly overprotective family.
Author’s Notes: This is the sequel to “How Like Hatred,” and really won’t make sense without having read that fic first. This one will have three parts and be posted over the new few days as part of my “From Litha to Lammas” fic series being posted between the summer solstice and the first of August this year.
Thank you again for all the reviews!
Part Two
“Mr. Malfoy, if I might have a moment of your time.”
Snape’s voice was as stiff as it always was around Harry. Harry reckoned that he couldn’t have expected any differently. He nodded and turned around. Ron and Hermione tensed on either side of him, but Harry waved them off. “Would you tell Professor Sprout that I’m going to be late to Herbology?”
Hermione nodded, her eyes on fire as she looked at Snape. She had been more protective of Harry ever since he had discovered who he was and Snape had still refused to call him anything but “Potter” in the last Potions classes before the Christmas holiday.
Not that Harry had much minded that at the time, honestly. He still felt more like a Potter than a Malfoy.
When they were alone at the top of the staircase that led to the dungeons, the same place that Harry had seen Snape standing the other day, Snape cleared his throat, but said nothing. Harry waited almost a full minute, then asked, “Sir?”
And Snape said something so surprising that Harry was glad he wasn’t nearer the stairs, or he would have fallen down them. “I must beg your pardon.”
“What?” Harry gaped at him, and then snapped his mouth shut. In the back of his mind, he could hear Mrs. Malfoy chiding away about his lack of manners. Of course, a second later part of him wished he’d kept it open.
Snape didn’t notice his rudeness. He was looking at Harry with eyes that Harry didn’t think saw anything about him at all. “I had misconceptions,” Snape breathed. “I thought you the son of an arrogant bully. James Potter made my life a hell when I was a Slytherin student. You had inherited that from him, I thought.” He took a breath like a dragon about to light a whole wildfire. “I was wrong about you.”
Because being the son of a Death Eater is so much better? Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy had been careful to tell him about Mr. Malfoy being under Imperius during the first war, but Harry knew when he was being fed a line of complete bollocks. However, he doubted that Snape wanted to hear about that. He probably already knew, anyway. Mr. Malfoy had been a Slytherin, and had hinted that he knew Snape.
Harry just nodded. “I-that’s all right, sir. Everyone thought I was James Potter’s son.”
“I should have known. You’re nothing like him.”
Harry started to bristle automatically, and then remembered that he was doing it in defense of his kidnappers. One of them, anyway. He calmed down in confusion, and Snape went on talking, this time with eyes that did seem to see Harry.
“You have a grace about you that comes from your mother.” For some reason, Snape swallowed then, a choking, clicking sound. Harry stared at him. Was Snape in love with Mrs. Malfoy? Harry did not want to hear about that. “And what I thought of as arrogance was self-protection.”
Harry’s worries switched towards what Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy might have said about him to Snape. “I, well, thanks, but I should be getting along to Herbology,” he gabbled, taking a long step backwards.
“I wished you to know,” Snape said in a low, passionate voice that Harry thought would probably haunt his nightmares, “that I made an Unbreakable Vow to protect Lily Potter’s son. But I would never have done it if I had thought the Potters capable of kidnapping a child.”
Harry blinked at him. “Why did you do it in the first place, sir?”
“Ah, Harry, Severus! I had hoped I would find you together. I wanted to speak to you both.”
Harry smiled at Headmaster Dumbledore as he walked out of the Great Hall, but Snape twitched. He looked as if he had wanted to go on speaking to Harry in private. Well, Harry was thinking that it was probably a good thing they’d been interrupted. Snape wanted to say weird things, and was probably going to go on to do weird things in a minute.
“Could you come to my office?” the Headmaster asked, his eyes shining, and Harry was glad to see that he looked happier than he had right after he found out Harry was a Malfoy. No one had known about that except Sirius Black and his pa-the Potters, so it wasn’t fair for Headmaster Dumbledore to blame himself.
“Henry.”
Harry blinked and turned to look at Professor Snape. Headmaster Dumbledore only smiled a little. “What was that, Severus?”
“Henry,” said Professor Snape strongly, his head up and his eyes pinning Harry so fiercely that he squirmed a little. “I received the letter from his family as I’m sure you did, Headmaster. In the rare circumstances when we might need to address the younger Mr. Malfoy by his first name, his parents have said he’ll be going by Henry.”
The sheer wrongness of hearing Snape stick up for him made Harry say hastily, “That’s the compromise we came up with, sir. I really didn’t like Aldebaran. But my friends still call me Harry.”
“And I hope we will always be friends, Harry.” The Headmaster stretched out his arm, his robe sweeping from it, making a motion of invitation. “Now, will you come with me?”
Professor Snape’s eyes had cooled a little by the time he turned to look at Harry. Harry shrugged, although he felt stung by it for reasons he didn’t want to name.
He wasn’t Harry Potter, but he was Harry still, and being a Malfoy, let alone Henry, would have to take time.
*
“I’ll be sure to tell Professor Sprout where you were, Harry, so you don’t get in trouble. And I believe the next class you have is with Severus, so you’ll be able to speed right along to it.”
Harry just nodded as he watched Headmaster Dumbledore make tea. He was humming under his breath, nearly as loudly as the silver machines all around him whirred. There was a beautiful scarlet bird with some golden plumes sitting on a perch, who had sung to welcome them when they came into the office and who Headmaster Dumbledore said was a phoenix.
Professor Snape was sitting stiffly on the edge of his chair. He had refused the tea when the Headmaster offered it, so there were just two cups. Dumbledore handed one of them to Harry and said, “So, I assume that you have refused your father’s offer to ensure that you could get into Slytherin House, hmmm?”
Professor Snape stared between them. “What?”
Harry held his head up. Mr. Malfoy had said a little about this, but not much. They still weren’t all that comfortable around each other, most of the time. “Yes, he said that he could make sure that I had another chance to sit under the Sorting Hat,” he said. “But I didn’t want it, sir. Honestly. I’m very happy in Gryffindor House.”
“I wish to understand this,” Professor Snape said, looking now as if he wished he did have a teacup so he could use it to make noise. “Why in the world would-Mr. Malfoy be a candidate for Slytherin House? Just because of his heritage? There have never been such exceptions made before.”
“They aren’t common, but they have happened.” Dumbledore waved his hand vaguely without taking his mildly interested gaze from Harry. “Besides, in this case, there is the fact that the Sorting Hat considered Mr. Malfoy for Slytherin originally, so this could be seen as restoring him to the original House he was destined for.”
Now Professor Snape really looked as if he wanted to faint. “Is this because of-your heritage?” he asked, turning to stare at Harry directly.
Harry controlled the impulse to flinch. He really didn’t think either of them meant him harm. “I don’t think so, sir? The Sorting Hat just said that I would do well in Slytherin and I could be great. But I didn’t want to be there.”
“Why not?” Snape looked as if he was ready to believe that Harry was the son of James Potter all over again.
Harry coughed. “I had met, well, I met my brother on the train and he made fun of Ron. Ron was the first friend I ever had. So I didn’t want to go into Slytherin because I knew I’d have to deal with Draco.”
Snape closed his eyes. Harry half-hoped Draco was going to get a scolding later. As far as Harry was concerned, Draco deserved most of the scoldings he got.
“Bet that as it may,” Headmaster Dumbledore said, and now he looked tired and old, “I am glad that you do not wish to change Houses, Harry-”
“Henry,” Snape said.
“I already talked to you about that, sir.” Harry glanced at him, and hoped that he made it a glance instead of a glare. Draco wouldn’t let him hear the end of it if he thought Harry was rude to his Head of House.
Even though, most of the time, Snape was rude first.
“It is inappropriate for a professor to be addressing you by a diminutive of your chosen first name.” Snape folded his arms and leaned in to glare at the Headmaster, who had put down his own teacup and was watching everything as if it was a play.
“You said that you needed to talk to me, sir?” As far as Harry as concerned, they’d got off-topic. All this about Slytherin House and what name he should have and the rest of it was just rot. Harry turned to face the Headmaster, who, after a moment more of a staring contest with Snape, nodded and turned back to Harry with a smile.
“Yes.” Dumbledore’s face got really old all of a sudden, and he sighed. “You know that there was a reason Voldemort targeted you.”
Snape hissed like he didn’t like the name Voldemort. He could put up with it, Harry decided. “Yes, sir. But last year you said that I was too young to know that…”
He trailed off, and this time, Dumbledore filled in the silence. “Well, as it turns out, the reason may no longer apply, as you are not the Potter child all of us believed you to be.” For a second, his eyes were bright and searching as they turned on Harry. “I never heard exactly what happened when you went to question Sirius Black in the Ministry.”
“Headmaster.” Snape sounded furious about something, but Harry didn’t think he could guess what.
Harry sighed and said, “Black said that my par-I mean, the Potters couldn’t have a child. So he thought he would steal one of Mrs. Malfoy’s twins and give them one, so that at least that one could be raised to be a good person. I had the impression that he thought it was a good thing to do, and funny.”
“Ah.” Dumbledore seemed to age again. “Well, the people you think you know may surprise you at any time…”
“I always knew Black and Potter,” Snape muttered, but he had his hands folded in his lap and didn’t seem like he would stand up and strangle Harry even if he was furious about something or other.
“Yes, Severus,” Headmaster Dumbledore said, in a quelling voice. He studied Harry, and then nodded. “I believe you deserve this knowledge. There was a prophecy that a child born at the end of July would defeat Voldemort.”
Harry stared at him. “And I just got targeted because of that? With all the thousands of children who must have been born at the end of July?”
“A child born to parents who had thrice defied him. That did rather cut it down.” But then the Headmaster sighed. “Except nothing fits, of course. I believe that you and young Mr. Malfoy were born in early June, and your parents did not defy Voldemort three times.”
His eyes seemed to be asking a question, but Harry didn’t know what it was. He just said, “Yeah, sir, it was early June.”
Dumbledore nodded. “So while the prophecy does not appear to hold, you did survive an attack by Voldemort, and it is unlikely that he will let that go. So I wanted to let you know that some of the circumstances might have changed, but I am still here to support you and will be happy to provide any backup I can.”
“Um. Thank you, sir.” Harry thought back to one of Mr. Malfoy’s tirades about Dumbledore that he’d witnessed and barely kept from shaking his head. His life was so strange now.
“Off to class, now, both of you,” the Headmaster said, with a flap of his hand that seemed to say Snape was just another student. Harry shivered as he walked out the office door. It was bad enough dealing with Snape as a professor, but it would a ton worse if he was a student who Harry would probably be required to be polite to because, of course, he would be Draco’s best friend.
“Henry! There you are!”
Harry looked down the corridor as he and Snape stepped out past the gargoyle, and blinked. “Draco? Aren’t you supposed to be in Herbology?”
“So were you.” Draco gave Professor Snape a suspicious glance. “When we realized you weren’t there, Professor Sprout excused me to look for you.”
“Oh.” Harry supposed he still wasn’t used to having a protective brother who followed him everywhere, or would have if they were in the same House and Harry was minded to put up with his nonsense. “I’m fine. I was just with the Headmaster. He wanted to speak to me and Professor Snape.”
Professor Snape shook his head at that, and gave Harry one more inscrutable glance before disappearing down the corridor. Draco walked beside him determinedly as they went towards the Potions classroom.
“I appreciate you being here,” Harry started, because one thing he had learned was that he had to show he appreciated Draco or nothing would get done, “but you don’t have to hold my hand as if I was a baby, you know.”
“I know.” Draco’s eyes were distant. “But I have to guard you.”
“Draco, I’m fine.”
“You got taken from us once, Henry. Who knows what other people are planning? It could happen again if we don’t watch over you.”
“Is that why there were Tracking Charms on my trunk and my clothes?”
“Oh. You found those?” Draco’s casual act would have worked better if he hadn’t stumbled to a stop for a second.
“Yes.” Harry stopped and turned to face his brother. Draco did the same thing, and Harry sighed and patted him awkwardly on the shoulder. He still didn’t really know what to do with his brother. Draco seemed to have no problem swinging his arm around Harry’s shoulders and even hugging him sometimes, but Harry had never had anyone his own age to do that with. Dudley was hardly the hugging type, except in the sense of “I’ll hold him still and you hit him.”
“We just want to know where you are,” Draco said quietly. “Like I said, what if someone else is planning to take you from us?”
“Who would this person be?” Harry folded his arms.
“I don’t know.” Draco’s eyes were so haunted that he abruptly looked ten years older, a lot more like Mr. Malfoy. “But my mother trusted her cousin and invited him over to the house after we were born, and there weren’t many people in that trusted little group. Someone else could be out there. Someone who doesn’t think it’s right that the Boy-Who-Lived is with the Malfoys. Even someone who doesn’t think that it’s right for the Malfoys to have a son who was instrumental in defeating the Dark Lord.”
“His name is Voldemort.”
Draco flinched hard enough to almost fall over, and shook his head as he turned away. “Whatever you say, Henry.”
“Harry,” Harry muttered, but he could tell from the set of Draco’s back that he wasn’t going to get Draco to say it. He sighed and followed him the rest of the way to the Potions classroom.
*
“You all right, mate?”
Harry nodded to Ron, and tried to ignore the feeling that he should be looking over at Draco on the Slytherin side of the room. He wasn’t sure what would be worse at the moment, to see Draco looking back or to see him turned the other direction. “Fine. Professor Dumbledore wanted to talk to me about some things that have changed now that I’m a Malfoy.”
“Oh, yeah.” Ron sighed and drooped his shoulders for a second. Then he shook his head and went back to crushing dandelion roots with the side of the knife. Harry had showed him how to do that after some lessons he’d had himself from Mrs. Malfoy during the holiday, and it seemed to work better. “I know you’re fine. It’s just that-”
“Silence, Mr. Weasley.”
Ron being Ron, he just waited until Professor Snape walked past, with yet another funny look in Harry’s direction, and then went back to talking, more softly than before. “Halfway thought me and Fred and George were going to have to come get you out of prison with another flying car. But I suppose in Hogwarts there wouldn’t be bars on the windows.”
Harry grinned and started to answer, but Draco said loudly, “What?”
“Mr. Malfoy?” Professor Snape asked in surprise, looking over his shoulder.
Draco had slammed his knife down in the middle of the table and was staring directly at Ron. “What did you say?”
“I said that we would have had to get Harry out of prison the way we did over the summer-oomph!”
Harry had stomped on Ron’s foot at the same time as Hermione had done it on the other side, but it was too late. Draco had gone paler than Harry knew was possible given the color of their skin, and was shaking his head a little, as if trying to bring something into focus that he could barely see.
“This is quite enough of an interruption to our Potions class,” said Professor Snape, his voice tight and low. “Weasley, five points from Gryffindor for your outburst. The rest of you, return to your potions.”
For a long moment, it seemed Draco was having a real struggle about whether he should, but in the end he picked up his knife and returned to cutting. Harry sighed in relief. With all luck, the comment would blow over, and he could tell Draco-when Draco had calmed down a little-that Ron was exaggerating.
“You should tell someone, you know,” Hermione muttered from the other side of Ron.
Harry only nodded, and said nothing. Maybe he should, but he was going to choose when to do it, not have it happen because of a stray comment Ron had blurted out.
“Sorry, mate.”
Harry shrugged with one shoulder at Ron. “It’s fine. Not your fault.”
Ron seemed happy enough with that, and went back to helping Harry make their potion. And if Harry was getting two concerned, narrow-eyed glances, one from the Gryffindor side and one from the Slytherin side, it wasn’t like he had to turn and look at them.
*
Harry looked up sharply the next morning at breakfast. Draco was walking into the Great Hall and straight towards the Gryffindor table. That would have been all right, if a little weird, except Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy were behind him.
“Oh, shit,” Harry said under his breath.
“Harry, language!” Then Hermione looked in the direction he had, and blinked. “They-don’t look like they’re here to bring a book you lost.”
“They’d send an owl to do that,” Harry said, and then became aware that he sounded inane. He had been too happy with the fact that Draco hadn’t confronted him at the end of Potions yesterday. He should have realized something was a little off about that. He cleared his throat and stood up. “If you’ll excuse me?”
The Malfoys were close enough to hear him make the excuse. Harry thought that maybe Mrs. Malfoy would smile because he’d been polite, but she only gave him a strained look and said, “Henry, please, we need to talk.”
Harry grimaced and followed her and Mr. Malfoy towards the stairs that he knew would lead to the hospital wing. Draco fell into place behind him, and Harry shuddered once and then refused to look back at him. It was like being guarded and escorted along, the way the Aurors had brought Sirius Black into the Ministry.
He did not want to talk about this, but if he had to, he could at least be reasonable about it, and then everyone else would be reasonable about it, too.
Hopefully.
Part Three.