Chapter Text
Early morning at Surrey Station, Harry sat on top of his leather suitcase regarding the Muggle travelers hurrying for work. Only a few gave notice to the boy and his large owl cage and broom. Most of them didn’t seem to notice their surroundings at all. He had forgotten how refreshing it could be to be unremarkable to a crowd of strangers.
A muffled snap emitted from behind him. Harry turned around to the sight of Lucius Malfoy sporting a shiny, three-piece suit and Draco with him in a green sweater vest and pageboy cap. The Muggle attire looked dashing on them, though they stuck out in ways less to do with magic and more now to do with tax brackets.
“I’m aware we’re late,” Lucius began. “But we have quite the busy day ahead of us, Potter.” He stuck out his forearm for Harry to grab and waited. The Boy Who Lived merely stared at the sleeve.
“It’s a nice suit, Mr. Malfoy. Cashmere?” Harry ventured.
“Armani,” Lucius sneered. “Take my arm, boy.” Draco chuckled and took his father’s other hand as the three of them vanished, luggage and all.
At once, they appeared at the imposing iron gates of Malfoy Manor. From his walking cane, Lucius unsheathed his wand and slashed a pattern to open the gate’s enchantments. Another flick on his breast transfigured the three-piece suit into a dark dress cloak as they walked the hedged path toward the front doors.
“You handled Apparition fairly well for your first time, Potter,” Lucius remarked in stride. “A promising sign. You’ll need that same grit when you meet the other guests today.”
“Others, sir?” Harry asked, shooting Draco a look of concern.
“It’s our annual gathering,” said Lucius. “Today, you’ll be given the rare privilege of meeting the most influential and elite of the wizarding world. For someone so new to magic, you’ll need to understand our kind if you ever wish to get ahead.”
Harry showed Draco that he was rolling his eyes at his father’s games. “That’s quite the honor. I’ll do my best to… leave an impression, sir.” Draco knew all too well that mischief hid behind Harry’s smile.
***
Bags unpacked and settled into the guest room, Harry and Draco found themselves finally alone together. Draco embraced him for a long while before quickly moving on to work. Narcissa had needed only one glance at Harry’s suitcase to insist that her son help his friend get appropriately dressed for the day’s events. The two of them tried on various outfits from Draco’s wardrobe.
“They do this every year,” Draco explained, putting on a light grey summer cloak. “Since you’re here, they’re probably hoping to show you off to all their Slytherin friends. Or worse perhaps.”
Harry smirked at how his companion resembled Sherlock Holmes. “I don’t know how it could get worse than a room full of Slytherins, no offense.”
“Fully taken, you mongrel.” Draco dug out a blue-green tunic and threw it at Harry. “You wear this and think about your dogged Gryffindor prejudices for once.”
“Ooh, fancy,” Harry whistled as he admired the patterns in the stitching. “They’re probably hoping to initiate me into their special inner circle. Too bad though. I’ve gone through worse interrogations and still came out fine.”
Seeing Harry sporting his own green tunic gave Draco a tiny thrill, the way the color brought out Harry’s eyes and made him feel like he belonged to him in some way.
“As enemies, you may have,” remarked Draco. “But making connections and keeping them is far harder, I assure you. This is my area of expertise.” Harry blew out a puff of air.
From the window, they could see the gardens were already a bustle of activity. Narcissa directed her small army of house-elves with the command of a general, arranging tables, plating food, and keeping the peacocks at bay, Lucius included. One of the house-elves carried a tall stack of plates twice his size to the white tables. Harry could see that he was garbed in a distinctly tattered pillowcase.
“Hey! Right there! Is that Dobby?”
Draco peered through the window and confirmed. “Yes, it is. I’ve gathered you two… knew each other?”
After Lucius had somehow lost their servant Draco’s second year, he had never learned more about the matter, father’s pride apparently quite wounded. Whatever bond Harry had shared with the house-elf remained a mystery to Draco. Even moreso since their ex-servant had eventually willingly broken into the manor to rescue Harry from Death Eaters. “He always was a strange house-elf…”
Harry lingered by the window in a kind of reverie for a while before answering. “He was the best if you ask me. Though I suppose he wouldn’t know who I am now, would he?”
“Suppose not. But I hardly know much about you either.” Draco approached the window beside Harry. “I’d like to hear your stories sometime. Maybe knowing both sides of what happened would help me make my own damn choices this time around.”
Harry smiled at their reflections leaning against each other and took a deep breath. “You’re right. You deserve the truth. It’s just… a lot to go through. I’ll answer what I can. But just know that it was all very complicated even for me.”
The chime of the manor’s gothic doorbell announced that the first batch of guests had arrived.
“Okay. But when we’re done with all this, you need to tell me everything,” Draco ordered.
“I promise. But for now…” Harry looked at their outfits in the mirror and grinned. “Let’s go charm some snakes!”
***
At the great doors appeared six of the Hogwarts Board of Governors, all Slytherins it seemed from the green and silver brooches that adorned their dark robes. Each of them greeted Lucius as “Chairman” and made jovial chatter about “keeping the right balance” and guarding “core values.” A few of them lectured at Draco and Harry, quite pleased with Draco’s snappy retorts but less so by his companion’s. Harry kept teetering between too coarse and too particular. The attention of the governors seemed to linger more upon the forehead than the boy.
Next arrived a smattering of Ministry heads and their families. Each of the wives greeted Narcissa with a cheek kiss, some sly whispers, and hearty laughter suggesting old alliances. Some of the Ministry women introduced their husbands like boyfriends and their children like dolls. They doted on Narcissa’s sweet, golden boy then politely smiled at Harry and his trainers.
Pureblood families of all sorts arrived as well. The boys’ future Slytherin classmates came with their parents and coolly acknowledged Draco’s shiny new friend, which made the Malfoys all the more impressive. Harry merely deflected their questions about how he had survived the killing curse, and which families were in his blood lineage, and if he had ever wished his scar were more centered.
“This is exhausting. I’m exhausted,” Harry mumbled in his friend’s ear. “But you’re so good at this. I’ve never seen this side of you.”
“This?” Draco smirked. “These are just the appetizers, Potter. We haven’t even reached the main course–or dessert. Keep up now. You’ll have to be better than that.”
“Trying to.” Harry grimaced as he shook hands with a passing Caractacus Burke. “What’s ‘dessert’ mean?”
“A game, usually. Croquet, Wizard’s Polo, maybe Quidditch. It winds down the evening and gives the adults something to play bets on.” Draco leaned in. “If you haven’t noticed, money’s their favorite toy.”
“Really? This whole time I thought it was loose morals.” Harry took the oncoming whack from Draco with a chuckle.
Narcissa placed a hand on her son’s back. “Now, now, Draco. We wouldn’t want to look crass in front of a Hogwarts professor.” She looked up to greet the next guest. “Why, Severus. Such a delight for you to join us.”
Severus Snape had entered the fold. After exchanging light greetings with Lucius, he strode over to give a casual nod to Mrs. Malfoy. “A delight as always, Narcissa. I’m sure young Draco must be all but eagerly waiting to begin his first year?”
Snape peered down at him and smiled through his eyes until he noticed the other boy standing there beside him. His dark gaze lingered a while on Harry as he tilted his head a little. “And who else could we have… here?”
Narcissa brought her hands together. “Why, as it so happened, we were shopping in Diagon Alley for Draco’s school supplies when he happened to make the acquaintance of Mr. Harry Potter. The two have been inseparable ever since. Boys, this will be your Head of House and Master of Potions, Professor Severus Snape.”
Draco remembered how much he had looked up to Snape. After all these years, to see the man who was his sole protector at school–towering so young and well–brought out a nostalgic comfort in him. “I’ve been dying to meet you, Professor. Father told me you were one of his closest friends at school.”
A slight nod and curve of his lip confirmed Snape reciprocated the fondness.
Harry, however, was utterly gobsmacked at the sight of him.
The man he had seen slain by Voldemort, whose most vulnerable secrets Harry had received before he died. A dying will to another past. One in which James and Lily fought in their youth. And Dumbledore condemned him in total fury. And when guilt and frustration seemed all that the man had to move forward, he resolved to bear his shame. For the Order. The child. The prophecy. Eventually to keep Draco safe too. And with each lie he committed for the Dark Lord–and against him– he’d done all for a naked doe Patronus still alive beneath the ice.
For years afterward, Harry had felt the full gamut of emotions about Severus Snape. But he could begin to understand why Draco could look at his terrible father and still want better for him. Harry looked up to meet Severus’s dark, curious eyes and felt a thorny compassion.
“Hello, Professor.” Harry offered out his hand. “It’s… a privilege to be meeting you.”
Severus observed the boy for a moment and the open hand. He felt a reluctance about him then a flicker of scrutiny at the messy hair, the glasses, the jagged mark on his head. But the wide, green eyes peering from beneath those features was what finally drew out Snape’s arm. Harry shook Professor Snape’s hand–so steady, calloused, alive.
“Mr. Potter. You carry quite the reputation in our world. The Boy Who Lived. Tell me, how does one manage all this fame at such a premature age?” Their grips remained locked in conversation.
“If I figure that out, I’ll let you know, sir.” Harry looked over at Draco who was glowing a little. “I suppose it helps to have a friend nearby. Though Draco seems to be managing fame far better than me. Maybe you should ask him.”
Snape let out a small scoff. “If Draco’s company is anything like his father’s, I’m sure you’ll have a most reliable hand when it’s needed. Otherwise, you could find yourself in over your head one day. What use would there be marauding about on one’s own? We are the company that we keep… aren’t we?” And with that, Professor Snape released him and strolled along.
Harry felt a hand on his back as Draco asked, “What was that about?”
“I’m not sure. Maybe it was some kind of warning.”
“A warning?” Draco traced his fingers along Harry’s shoulders. “What for?”
***
Midafternoon settled in the cathedral-like hall of Malfoy Manor. The dining table stretched out for the powerful guests to share in high tea and talk. At the head of the table, Lucius sat on his throne which overlooked it all, a hawk’s eye view of his little wizarding society. It was safe to assume that they were all Death Eaters, inconspicuous or not, each the more powerful the closer they sat to the throne.
From the kitchen doors, house-elves marched in a line and floated sturdy, silver teapots with them. The empty table suddenly materialized all manner of teacups on saucers and fine plates of china, ready to serve from towering trays of cakes, sandwiches, and ornate pastry. It was a paradise of treats arranged just for them.
The elite’s children gathered at the opposite end of the table. Draco sat at the smaller throne where he had always sat before, prince over his Slytherin familiars, all in full view of his father across the room.
Harry sat beside Draco, trying to make sense of an egg cup and dainty spoon placed before him. He raised the spoon like a hatchet until he caught Draco wincing as he watched. Harry lowered his weapon and tried going at the egg in a more delicate fashion, clearing his throat.
“At this rate, I’m going to starve at this table,” Harry whispered to the little prince Malfoy. “Even though we are surrounded by food.”
Draco gestured at a floating teapot with his hand and refilled Harry’s cup. He picked up his own egg spoon and demonstrated how to crack the crown of the egg cleanly to get at the golden yolk within. “See? It’s not that bad. You just need a delicate touch.”
“Or a degree in brain surgery,” Harry remarked. “Will you pass me one of those fruit tarts?”
“I will not. We eat from the bottom of the tray first, starting with hors d'oeuvres, then pastries. Then maybe you can have a fruit tart,” Draco added, “if you behave.”
At that, Harry yanked out his wand and drew out one of the fruit tarts from the top of the tower and onto his plate. He made sure to give Draco a deliberate smile as he used the egg spoon to dig into the raspberry jam and take a bite. “Mmm, now that’s good.”
A scoff from Pansy Parkinson interrupted them. “Draco, it looks like your new pet hasn’t been house-trained yet. Are you sure your mum will let you keep him?”
Draco was about to respond when Blaise Zabini chimed in too. “That’s not totally fair, Pansy. It looks like he's trying his best to fit in. I think Draco could still domesticate him.”
Harry felt his heart speed up a few gears. He grasped the rugged handle of his holly wand. “Well then, how about I show you a trick or two–”
“Harry.” Draco’s voice was unnaturally cool. He levitated two more fruit tarts off the tower and onto Blaise’s and Pansy’s plates. “Don’t mind those two. Pansy and Blaise always get excited when they smell fresh meat. Enjoy your treats, you three. I can’t have you going at each other’s throats this early.” Blaise and Pansy shrunk back obediently as Draco sat back looking pleased.
A booming laugh erupted from one of the adults at the other end of the table. Pansy and Blaise lost interest and moved on to something else to complain about. Harry finished his tart quietly as the teapots and cutlery moved like clockwork in the air above him. It seemed the crowd’s chatter would delight in itself with or without him.