Work Text:
Beneath the pale glow of a silvery moon, a tiny babe, with a tuft of unruly black hair, lets out a cry that tugs at the very fabric of the universe. Swaddled in soft, warm blankets and nestled within a woven basket, the child lay abandoned on the doorstep of Number 4 Privet Drive, unaware of the extraordinary destiny that awaited him.
But, this was no ordinary babe; this was Harry Potter, the boy who lived, though he didn't yet know the weight of that title. His parents, brave and loving, had just been tragically taken from him by the sinister hand of Lord Voldemort. The echoes of their final stand against evil made their mark, in the form of a lighting-shaped scar adorning his forehead.
Amidst the chilling breeze that swept through the quiet suburban street, young Harry's muffled cries went unheard by any passersby. He had much to cry about, indeed. His parents were gone, and his Godfather Sirius Black now found himself imprisoned, accused of crimes he did not commit.
With nowhere else to go, Harry's fate rested on the doorstep of his aunt, Petunia Dursley, a woman who had long turned her back on the magical sister she pretended she never had.
A figure cloaked in mystery emerged from the darkness, their footsteps whispering against the cobblestone streets. His eyes, glinting like stars in the night sky, fixated on the abandoned baby nestled within the basket before him.
As the moon's gentle glow revealed a single strand of silvery blonde hair, the cloaked man's hand moved with swiftness and purpose, tucking the stray lock back inside his hood. With a soft, almost hesitant grace, he crouched down beside the infant; a bundle of destiny wrapped in blankets.
The air was charged with tension, but not of malevolence; rather, it spoke of a profound choice that had brought him to this moment.
In the hushed embrace of the night, the man's keen gaze studied the child, seemingly searching for answers in the depths of those innocent eyes. A moment of contemplation passed like an eternity, until the baby's cry pierced the stillness, tugging at the hidden recesses of the man's heart. His resolve seemed to soften, revealing a flicker of vulnerability.
Without further hesitation, the man drew the wailing baby into his arms, and an unexpected gentleness emerged from within him. His movements, once stiff and controlled, now mirrored the rhythm of a seasoned caretaker, as if he had cradled countless little ones before. Or, more accurately, one spoiled little one.
The dark of the night wrapped around them like a velvet embrace, cloaking the pair as the mysterious man swiftly rose, his dark silhouette bathed in the moon's ethereal glow. With a solemn look, he spared a final glance at the humble doorstep where Harry had first been left, in a moment of reflection.
With a quick whisper of an incantation, the figure cast a spell, and the very basket that had carried the babe to this place vanished into thin air.
Clutching Harry to his chest, their destinies now irrevocably intertwined, the man began to stride with purposeful steps, each footfall echoing through the street. The world around them seemed to pulse with energy, as if acknowledging the significance of this encounter. They became one with the shifting shadows, melting into them with urgency.
.
The grand Malfoy Manor stood amidst the moonlit night, an imposing building steeped in history and magic. As the heavy oak doors creaked open, Lucius Malfoy, the epitome of aristocratic allure, glided inside, his cloak billowing in the cold breeze. Narcissa, his elegant and ever-graceful wife, materialized from the shadows, her eyes reflecting both relief and concern.
"Lucius, where have you been?" she inquired softly, her voice like a lilting melody that wafted through the air. "It's very late, Draco has already been put to bed."
Her words seemed to linger in the air, met with silence from Lucius. A brief pause hung between them, filled with unspoken words. And then, in an almost reverent movement, he leaned forward, revealing the cradle of a hidden treasure nestled in his arms.
Narcissa gasped, her hand instinctively covering her mouth in astonishment. "Oh, Lucius," she breathed. "Who?" She asked simply, trusting eyes turned to Lucius.
Lucius' eyes, usually cool and calculated, softened as they met Narcissa's gaze. "He had been left on the doorstep, abandoned and alone, a little Potter" he confessed, the weight of his discovery evident in his voice. "He's just a baby, Cissy, left to the mercy of the night."
In that moment, the mysterious veil that often shrouded the Malfoy Manor lifted, leaving them exposed to the vulnerability of compassion. They stood together, staring at the innocence that lay before them—a fragile soul with a clear destiny.
Narcissa approached the baby with a mixture of wonder and tenderness, her fingers tracing delicate patterns on the child's cherubic cheeks. "He's so small, Lucius," she murmured, her heart aching with empathy.
"Cissy, my original plan was to collect the Potter child and deliver him to the Dark Lord,” He breathed deeply, “But when I heard the cries of the babe, when I looked into those innocent eyes, I knew I couldn't go through with it."
His voice carried a mix of guilt and vulnerability, betraying the moral conflict he had experienced. "I had been watching the Dursleys all day, awaiting the arrival of the child they were about to be burdened with, so I could steal him away," Lucius continued. "But, I couldn’t leave him there, you see. As much as I despise muggles, I cannot fathom the cruelty of leaving an innocent magical baby to their mercy. They’re awful , the worst kinds of muggles."
Narcissa's gaze softened with understanding. "Lucius," she spoke gently, "I understand. We will take this burden on together." The ‘we’ll keep him as our own’, went unspoken.
Lucius nodded solemnly, acknowledging his wife's words. "Perhaps," he murmured, "but now we find ourselves in dangerous territory. Taking this boy in means a lot for us– not necessarily in a good way. He is our Lord’s enemy, first and foremost."
There are a few beats of charged silence.
Then, Narcissa hums.
“He is cute, though. Isn’t he?”
Lucius smiles.
“Indeed, he is.”