Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Nobody batted an eyelash when a young child was walking by on the streets on London. Nobody would think that they were someone special or that he just lost his only living relatives.

Harry James Potter was walking down the streets of London, with nothing more on him, than the ratty old clothes on his back and the little blue bunny plushie, that Dudley didn't like and wanted to throw away. But Petunia gave it to Harry, because he just wanted the boy to stop crying. Now it was the only thing he really owned and the only thing that always held to him.

Harry was looking around the city, sucking the thumb on his right hand, while clutching the little plushie safely to his chest with his other hand. Everything around him were just blurry, indistinguishable shapes of various sizes.

He was trying to make out the forms of his aunt, uncle or his cousin. They always played this game of hide and seek. And Harry had always found them again. One time they were hiding so well, that it took Harry nearly four days to find them again, but he did. The memory made a small smile appear on his face. 

He didn't realise, that he was walking right into someone, until he was running into their legs. When he looked up, he realised, that the shapes and colours of the buildings were different. Everything was more vibrant then it was before and there was something white in front of him, that was so large, and polished, that the sun was glittering in the facade, making Harry squint his eyes a little, to shade them from the light.

"Excuse me young man." The voice of an older man sounded. It was softer than Uncle Vernons voice. It also sounded so much younger. Yet he still sounded like an adult, but not like any adult, like some kind of royalty. Yes. His voice sounded like the kings, queens and the princes always sounded like in Dudleys TV shows.

"I'm sorwy." Harry whispered, afraid that the man might punish him for running into him.

"Where are your parents little one?" A woman asked. Harry only noticed her, after she came out from behind the man with white hair. She had black hair with white streaks in it. And the blob on her side looked like she was balancing a child on her hip. She gave the child over to the man. So it must be either her husband or her brother if he went after the hair.

"Aunt Tunia said, that they died. They abandod me. But right now I'm paying hide and sik with them." Harry smiled up at them, showing them his best smile, even if it showed his not really cared for teeth.

The woman gasped slightly, when she caressed his cheek and brushed some strand of his hair behind his ear. Harry quickly realised, that she must have seen his scar. He turned his head away in shame, as the woman got back up on her feet and talked in a hushed voice to her husband. 

"What is your name little one. Mine is Narcissa." the woman had knelt down again and carefully turned his head towards her again.

"I got no naem. Uncle called me feak and aunt called me boy. I know, that it not my naem." 

Narcissa shared a shocked look with her husband, who nodded quickly. "How about we take you to get some food, hm?" She asked the scared boy in front of her. 

Harrys mind was overwhelmed. Petunia always said, that he should go with anyone, who says, that they know the, but to Dudley she always said, that he should never go with anyone, who weren't Mom, Dad or Aunt Marge. He knew, that he should not go with them, but if they were offering food? When he found the Dursleys he would get nothing again. It would not hurt anyone right?

After some time Harry nodded timidly. He was scared about going with those people, but his aunt and uncle were nowhere to be seen. Maybe they would bring him to the police station after they ate a bit.

Narcissa took his hand into hers and walked with him after her husband and the sleeping blob on the mans shoulder. Harry was always trying to avoid all the different colored shapes that came their direction. Sometimes he could barely make out when another was coming towards him and he had to suddenly dodge the new shape. After some time both adults stopped and looked at the small child again.

"Say, can it be, that you can't see properly?" Narcissa asked, kneeling down before him again. Harry just shrugged, not knowing what to answer.

"Maybe we should take him to see the optician before were going to eat something." Came the smooth voice of the man, holding the child.

"Yes, I think that might be for the best."

Narcissa stood up again and gently lead him towards the opposite direction and to a shop with big windows and a door, that looked like big glasses. All of them walked inside and were greeted by a friendly woman.

"Lord and Lady Malfoy, what can I do for you today?" Lord? Lady? Were these two adults really noble people? Harry was a little stunned, while Lord Malfoy talked a little to the woman. Harry was shaken out of his thought, when Narcissa brought him into a small room away from the sales area. Had he done something to anger them? Were they going to hurt him now?

"Please sit down on the chair. We will do a few test, before we can give him any kind of glasses." Harry followed the gentle nudge from Narcissa over to a black chair. When he sat on it, it felt like high quality leather, the kind Dudleys riding shoes were made out of. Not that he used them very long.

Something like glasses was put onto his nose, before he felt something prickly going over his skin and his eyes, but it did not really feel hurtful, rather it felt like sand and a feather a the same time.

"Alright. If you would follow me back, than we can find something suitable for him." With that the glasses were taken from his face and all three of them went back to the sales area, where Lord Malfoy had taken a seat and was looking at a few models, while the child was still sleeping in his arms. Narcissa sat Harry down next to her husband and sat herself on his other side. The woman came back with a few glasses, laying them down before him.

They took nearly half an hour before Lady Malfoy was happy with the way the glasses looked on Harry. When she paid the glasses something happened to them. From one moment to the next did everything become clear to him. The shapes became harder outlines and he could different colours even with the smallest difference.

"Thank you. Come. We wanted to go eat something." Lady Malfoy took her own son at the hand. He woke up sometime while they were still sorting out a fitting pair of glasses for him. Harry was a little shocked, how the young boy just sat next to his father, not asking any questions. He was silently waiting for them to be done, his posture that of a young noble man or a prince.

All of the Malfoys were also dressed like they stepped out of one of aunt Petunias shows. The did not wear normal clothing, rather they all wore dress robes with a coat of arms on their left chest. 

The young boy named Draco was trying to talk to him. When they went back into the street where he first ran into the Malfoys he was shocked about all the strange things he could see at every corner. All the people were dressed like the Malfoys, even if they were not dressed as finely as the Malfoys, most were still wearing robes. Some of the younger ones were wearing normal clothing that Harry knew, but that were only a handful of children and teenager.

When they reached a restaurant called the golden swan, they lead him inside. Harry felt completely out of place in that establishment. They all looked finely dressed. A young man was standing behind a pult, looking at a list of reservations. He nearly wanted to kick Harry back out again, but when he saw the young heir Malfoy with the boy he choose to rather keep his mouth shut.

"Ah, Lord Malfoy. Lady Malfoy, welcome. We almost thought, that you cancelled your reservation." 

Lord Malfoy had to refrain from rolling his eyes. "Just bring us to our table and add a second children's chair."

"Of course. Of course." The young man took a few menus from under the pult and walked into the restaurant, making the Malfoys follow. 

The young man stopped in front of a door. "Your table like always Lord Malfoy. We will be bringing a second children's chair shortly." He inclined his head, opened the door and waited till all were inside before moving away. Were they not all sworn to secrecy about their customers he would go and tell his co workers about the ratty looking child that accompanied the Malfoys. But like this he could not do something like this. He could only bring the chair as fast as he was possible.

"Come, let me help you sit young man." He held out his hand to the child. Harry was sceptic about this man, something just did not feel right about him. But at the look Mister Malfoy send him, he quietly took his hand and let himself be helped onto the chair.

"We will order something for you. Do not worry." Draco smiled at him and Harry could not help but smile back. Even if it was barely noticeable and looked kind of forced.

"Can you tell us where you live?" Narcissa asked, after they ordered. Harry looked up from his hands, still picking at his fingers even without looking at them. 

Harry shook his head. "Every house looks same. Can't read yet." he mumbled. 

Narcissa looked at her husband. "Maybe we should go to the goblins, they can tell where he lives with a simple inheritance test." 

Lucius looked at both his wife and the child. "Yes, I think that we should do that. We should also find out what is going on in his house. No sane person would just abandon their child on the streets, especially not if they are magical- He was living with muggles I believe."

Narcissa looked like she also came to that conclusion. "You are right. It could be that they abandoned him not knowing what to do with one of our children. You said they were your aunt and uncle. Do you know what happened to your parents?" 

"Aunt Ptunia said tha ey were unken lay'bouts. Killed temself in a car. Said I should  ave died with tem." His voice was broken and weak, thinking back to all the times his aunt talked about her sister and her husband that way. He missed his parents and sometimes he really believed that he should have died with them. He hated his relatives, but every time he tried to end it himself his aunt just locks him back in the cupboard without anything at all.

Lord and Lady Malfoy just looked at the brocken child in front of them, slightly trembling and cuddling the small blue bunny to his chest.

Harry was tightly holding on to the hand of Draco Malfoy when they left the restaurant again. Harry was scared that the Malfoy family would bring him back to his family, even after he told them that they did not like him and just wanted him gone.

They walked through the streets of Diagonal ally and Harry was fascinated by all the things he could see in the windows of the different shops. At the broom and quidditch shop Harry stopped shortly, wondering why they were selling brooms that looked like they were not functionally. Some even had little footrests at the end of the broomstick, where the twigs were beginning.

"We can go there later if you want." Draco said after a few seconds of standing in the streets. "But right now mother and father want to go to the bank. We should not make them wait." He carefully pulled on their joined hands to make him start walking again.

They silently walked behind Lord Malfoy, even if Draco tried to engage in a conversation with him Harry just stayed quiet, to scared to do something that could anger the Lord. Aunt Petunia was always very strict when Vernon brought important guests over for his business, so Harry knew a little bit about how he should behave in certain company, even if he was just locked away in his cupboard again. But Dudley was always with his parents on such evenings and Harry always listend in when his aunt was talking about important people again.

He noticed that they were walking towards the big white building that stood proudly in the middle of the ally. When they got closer Harry noticed some weird creatures stand in front of the entrance, holding spears and wearing armour, watching over the people that entered and the ones that just walked by.

"Don't worry. Those are goblins, and even if they look kina scary, they are very friendly creatures if you know their customs and treat them with respect." Draco whispered when they entered and noticed Harrys scared expression.

The Malfoys walked over to one of the bank tellers and exchanged a few quiet words, before they were all moved into a meeting room with a long dark wooden table in the middle. Harry was speechless at all the ornaments in the room. Everything looked like it belonged into a castle, with busts stowed in small pockets in the back wall. Even the chairs looked like they should rather be in a museum than in a bank.

Harry obediently followed the Malfoys over to the table and sat on the right of Lord Malfoy when he indicated. "Normally only my heir will sit there, but this is a special occasion and we are not in public right now." Lord Malfoy said to Harry, looking down his nose at him, but not really looking at him.

Harry continued to look around the room while they waited for another goblin to come to them. He was picking at his fingers again and biting his lower lip a little. When the door opened up to three new goblins Harry nearly jumped from his chair.

"Good Day Lord Malfoy. May your enemies bleed at your hands."

Lord Malfoy inclined his head a little before answering: "Good day sir Sharpfang. May your coffers never be empty." 

Harry swore that he saw a grin like grimace form in the face of the creature. It just made it look even more scary in his opinion, but seemingly no one else felt the same way he was about them. It had to be normal that way.

While Sharpfang went over to the table Harry noticed, that two guards walked in with the first goblin and just stayed at the door, silently staring ahead of them.

"What brings you to me on this fine day?" the goblin questioned.

"We found this young man walking the streets of Diagonal ally all alone. He could not even see correctly, we had to get him a pair of glasses. Anyway, we wanted to find out his name and where his guardians live, so that we can maybe have a few nice words with them. Also if the circumstances  allow for it, we would like to blood adopt this young man."

At those words Harry looked up from his fingers with a shocked look and at all the people in the room.

"Yes, I will send for everything at once. Tell me youngling, what may your name be?"

"Feak." Harry mumbled.

The goblin looked at Lord Malfoy, who just looked at him with a look that said: See why we want to take him away from there? The Goblin nodded and scribbled a few things down onto a parchment with a feather.

After a short moment a piece of parchment landed in front of Harry, together with a dagger. It looked like it would hold power. It was a black blade, carved with runes Harry did not understand and the handle was wrapped in leather of the finest quality.

Questioningly he looked up at the goblin.

"Oh right, I always forget that most muggleborn do not know of our customs. Please put three drops of your blood on the ring at the top of the parchment, the rest will do it by itself."

Harry was still a little sceptic, but despite his fears he took the blade in hand and cut his thumb on his left hand, letting three drops of his blood fall down onto the piece of parchment, filling out the ring perfectly, before just disappearing into the parchment itself.

Harrison James Potter-Black

Carrier

Mother:  Lily Potter neè Evans

Father: James Fleamont Potter

Godparents

Sirius Orion Black

Severus Snape

Alice Longbottom

Guardian:

Petunia and Vernon Dursley - Privet Drive 4

Albus Dumbledore (illegale magical guardian)

Heir/Lordships

Potter- since birth

Black- since birth

Slytherin- second heir since birth

Le Fay- since birth

Emrys- since birth

Peverell- since birth

Titels

Lord Potter

Lord Black

Heir Slytherin

Lord Le Fay

Lord Emrys

Lord Peverell

Master of death

Vaults

Potter- 194

Black- 465

Slytherin- 825 (not all are accessible)

Le Fay- 687

Emrys- 4851

Peverell- 886

Properties

See other parchment

Potion and spell damage

Magical core blocked  5% - placed by James Potter

Horcrux attached to scar - by Tom Marvolo Riddle on accident

Magical core blocked 75% - placed by Albus Dumbledore

Parsel magic blocked 90% - placed by Albus Dumbledore

Loyalty potion to Albus Dumbledore - placed by Albus Dumbledore

Loyalty Potion to Gryffindor - placed by Albus Dumbledore

Loyalty potion to Weasley family - placed by Albus Dumbledore

Loyalty potion to order of the Phoenix - placed by Albus Dumbledore

Love potion to Ginevra Molly Weasley - placed by Albus Dumbledore

Magical leech - placed by Albus Dumbledore

Note:  Notice, that his magic is extremely weak and his body is deteriorating. Seek professional help immediately.

Narcissa and Lucius both looked shocked down at the parchment. Both couldn't understand how anyone could do something like blocking the magical core of a child off.

"We need to do a medical test on him." Lucius stated. Only second later did another piece of parchment land in front of them and with a nod did Harry drop another three drops of his blood on the parchment like he did on the one before that.

Both Malfoys took the parchment of the four year old child. Of course, this was Harry Potter, but this was not okay on any level. Dumbledore was lying to everyone. He always gave interviews, telling them Harry was living the life of a prince and that he was receiving enough love and care than anyone could handle. But now they held the proof of the exact opposite in their hands. 

"Please give Harrison a cleansing and bring him to the healing chambers." Narcissa said. The goblins nodded and one of the guards left the room.

"Harrison," Lucius turned over to the boy, "You will be going with the goblins shorty, they will heal you. And we will wait here for you." Harrison nodded, but his eyes betrayed him. They spoke of fear, pure unfiltered fear.

"Don't worry Harrison. I'll go with you." Draco exclaimed. He got up from his own chair while his parents were reading Harrisons results and had moved to him, laying his hand on his arm and giving him silent comfort through it. Dracos parents smiled a little bit at their son. 

At that moment the guard goblin came back into the room, followed by another goblin and a man with dirty blond hair and black eyes.

"Good day Lord Malfoy, Lady Malfoy. I'm healer Smithclaw and this is curse breaker Wilson, we will be the ones to heal Harrison." The goblin said in a scratchy and deep voice.

"If you would come with us please."

Carefully Harrison got up from the chair and gripped Dracos hand hard before following the goblin and the curse breaker through another door out of the room.

Draco was a calming presence next to him when they walked into a room with a rune circle drawn onto the floor.

"We advice for you to put on those clothing, to ensure that none of your own get destroyed in the process." The curse breaker gave him a white linen dress that Harrison recognized as one of the robes that you get when you were admitted to the hospital. He never wore one, but he knew it because Dudley once got himself admitted and as the good cousin and happy family he had to also go and visit his cousin.

The man pointed at a small stool with a room divider in front of it, so that he could change without anyone seeing him.

Harrison walked over to it and closed the room divider before pulling his secondhand shirt from Dudley over his head. He also removed the piece of string that held his trousers on his hips, before letting them also fall to the ground.  His shoes were nothing more than a few pieces of old leather belts sewn together, but they already had a lot of holes in them and even the thread was slowly deteriorating. The only thing he kept on were his boxers, that were a few sizes to small for him, before pulling on the white hospital gown. It fitted him more than most of his clothing did and reached past his knees.

When he was done Harrison walked back to the man who gently guided him into the rune circle. Harrison threw one last look at Draco, before he was laid down onto the ground and bound by his hands and feet.

"Don't panic. We just want to make sure, that you will not damage yourself more while we heal you." Smithclaw said when he noticed Harrisons panicked facial expression.

But it did not help Harrisons panic. Were they going to punish him now for telling lies again? Aunt Petunia said that she would kill him if he would be saying one more lie. And he felt he was right when the man started to chant something and every single muscle and bone in his body was starting to hurt worse than after one of Vernons beatings. But it did not last long for him, because the pain was to much for his small body to handle and he passed out.

When Harrison was waking up again he was laying in a sterile looking room, with a white ceiling and walls and wooden floors. Even his bed was fully white. The next thing he noticed, was that he was really not alone. Both Narcissa and Lucius as well as their son Draco were sitting right beside his bed.

While the adults were silently talking amongst themself, was Draco just carefully watching Harrison. When he noticed that Harrison was awake he jumped up and started asking questions in rapid succession. Harrison could barely keep up with him.

"How are you feeling? Are you feeling better? Do we need to call the healer? Is your magic stable? Can you feel your magic now?"

Harrison was a little stunned at Draco mentioning magic. It was not real right? At least his relatives always said so.

"Draco, dear. Give Harrison a moment. He was raised by muggles in case you forgot." Narcissa gently said. "How are you feeling dear?" 

Harrison looked at the gentle face of Narcissa Malfoy and thought a little about her question. "Eveything aches." 

"My husband and I wanted to ask you something important, but only if you feel good enough for it." Harrison nodded to let her know, that he felt well enough for her question. "Lucius and I would like to adopt you. That means that you would never have to go back to your aunt and uncle. Would it be something you want?"

Harrison was shocked. Someone wanted him? Would that mean he would finally get a real family? He asked if it would really give him a family.

With a small gentle laugh Narcissa said: "Of course dear. You would be a Malfoy, and family always comes first for a Malfoy."

Harrison thought a while about it. He did not answer her right away, and the healer came in before he could give his answer.

"Alright young man. Lets have a look. It seems that you have healed very well and every block is gone. Also we found a marriage contract, that we ended, because it was illegally signed by Dumbledore. But you should be free to go now." The healer said. She gave Lord Malfoy a binder with all of Harrisons medical information. "Also, we gave him all his shots. He was missing every singe one of them." With that she left.

"Narcissa?" Harrison asked quietly and if the room would not have been as quiet as it was, his voice would have been going under in all the other noises.

"What is it dear?" 

"I think, I want be with you. Yu are nice peepol." 

Narcissa smiled and Draco was doing a small dance near his bed and holding on to his hand, even Lucius smiled a little at Harrisons words.

"Than I will send for a blood adoption potion right away. Loppy!" Lucius said. Another small creature with long ears and tennis ball big eyes landed in front of Lord Malfoy.

"What can Loppy be doing for Master Malfoy?" 

"Please go to Sir Sharpfang and ask him to come to the healing floor and he shall bring a blood adoption potion." 

The little creature nodded quickly before disappearing with a loud 'Plop'. Harry flinched a little at the sudden noise.

They had to wait for a little while before the goblin Sharpfang came back inside with a glass bottle filled with some kind of liquid. "I was informed of a blood adoption happening?" Sharpfang asked when he entered into the healing halls.

"Yes. We would like to adopt Harrison into our family, with everything excluding, the change of his father and that of his original parents. We only want to change and add ourself as his parents." Lucius said. His voice as calm and stoic as ever.

"Of course. Than we would need ten drops of Lady Malfoys blood and only five drops of of your blood Lord Malfoy." He said, walking towards the bed and giving Lady Malfoy a dagger, that looked an awful lot like the one he had used. 

Narcissa slit open one of her fingers and let ten drops of her blood fall into the flask with the other liquide. When she was done she gave the dagger over to her husband, who repeated the procedure. When both adults were done with the blood the goblin took the flask back and chanted something quick.

Then he gave the flask to Harrison, who looked at it questioningly. "What?" He simply asked. 

If Sharpfang could roll his eyes he would have done so, but like this he just sighed and said: "You have to drink it. After you should be part of their family." 

Harrison looked a little disgusted at the prospect of having to drink the blood of the Malfoys. He closed his eyes, counted to ten and then gulped the whole contents down. He grimaced at the taste and that it was pretty thick and slid down his throat like mouldy juice.

Harrison chocked a little and nearly threw it all up again, when he saw his skin changing colour. Slowly his sun tanned skin turned a sickly looking white like the skin of the Malfoys. He looked over at his new parents, who smiled indulgently at him.

After ten minutes or so Sharpfang gave him a mirror, so he could look at himself. His hair had became lighter, to a very light colour, but not as white as Dracos or Lord Malfoys hair. And while it still retained some of his unruliness, his hair had began to grow to about his shoulders and straightened out a little. The green of his eyes was also nearly completely gone and changed to a greyish blue colour. Even his face became more sharper, but still looked roundish at the same time. His cheeks were rosy and his lips were a little fuller and a soft, pale pink.

"He looks like a little angel." Lucius said. His wife nodded and Draco jumped onto the bed and hugged his new brother. 

"I have a brother!" He squealed. 

"Draco. He is still not fully healed. he will have to take a lot of potions to even get to a point of healthy again. Besides we will have to go and get him some new clothes and necessity's." Lucius chided his father. Draco let his brother go a little, but still held on, even if it was a lot softer now than before.

Harrison got put into a few old clothes from Draco, so that he would not have to walk around in his tattered clothing any longer. Even if they were second hand clothing again Harrison felt a lot better in them than he did in Dudleys old clothing. They not only looked finer, but they also felt a lot better on his skin than Dudleys did.

When they all finally left the bank Harrison was holding on to his new brothers hand and smiling like he just got gifted the whole world to him.

Chapter Text

The streets of Diagon Alley had not thinned in the slightest since they’d first stepped into Gringotts. It had been hours since the Malfoys had stumbled upon Harrison Potter, wandering all alone, small and silent, lost among the swirling chaos of wizarding London.

Now, with a firm grip on his hand, Draco led him confidently through the crowd, his chest puffed out just a little, as if proud to be the one at Harrison’s side. He pointed out every shop they passed, giving brief, half-remembered summaries of what they sold and who ran them, his voice animated whenever Harrison asked a question. The younger boy barely spoke, but when he did, Draco answered without hesitation, as though he’d been waiting all day to share what he knew.

Harrison clung to him with quiet intensity, his small frame almost disappearing into Draco’s side. He walked with his head ducked, thumb hovering near his lips, and only occasionally glanced up at the unfamiliar world surrounding him.

Behind them, Lucius and Narcissa followed at a more measured pace, speaking in hushed voices as they considered their next steps.

“He can’t keep wearing those castoffs,” Lucius muttered, his voice tight with disdain as his eyes drifted to the too-long sleeves and dragging hems of Draco’s old clothes now swamping the black-haired boy. “We’ll need to get him fitted properly—something suitable. Something he can wear with pride.”

Narcissa gave a quiet hum of agreement. “You take him. I’ll fetch the necessary books about our customs and society. He’ll need to understand what it means to bear the Malfoy name now.”

Lucius inclined his head, his eyes narrowing with something like approval. “Very well. We’ll meet you at Selkies Silk Robes once we’re finished.”

He stepped forward, gently placing a hand on Draco’s shoulder to get his attention. “We’re heading to Selkies to outfit Harrison properly. Go ahead and tell him.”

Draco nodded and turned to Harrison at once. “Come on,” he said, guiding the younger boy around a pair of gossiping witches. “We’re going to get you some proper robes. You’ll look like a real Malfoy by the end of the day.”

Carefully, the small group wove through the dense crowd, then turned down a narrower alley branching off from the main thoroughfare. The light grew dimmer as they descended into the quieter side street, and Harrison instinctively edged closer to Draco, his fingers tightening around the blonde’s sleeve.

Selkies Silk Robes was tucked away near the end, its golden script curling across the windowpane like ivy. Draco held the door for his brother, and only once the chime above rang out did Harrison notice Narcissa was no longer with them.

His eyes darted around in quiet panic. “Where’s… Cissa?” he asked softly, almost whispering.

Lucius, already inside, turned back and crouched down to meet his eyes. “She’s just gone to get a few books for you, Harrison. Things you’ll need to learn. She’ll be back with us soon. You understand?”

Harrison nodded slowly, but his lower lip wobbled as he sucked his thumb, seeking comfort in the familiar gesture.

Lucius sighed—controlled, but not cold. “Take your thumb out of your mouth, please. That’s not how an heir carries himself.”

The boy obeyed immediately, though his hand lingered near his chin.

Just then, the shopkeeper—a young woman with sleek green curls pinned up like vines—stepped forward to greet them, her robes glinting faintly in the candlelight.

“Welcome to Silk and Satin, home of the finest robes in all of wizarding Britain,” she chirped, her smile faltering slightly as her eyes widened in recognition. “Lord Malfoy! It is an honour, truly. How may I assist you today?”

Lucius’s nose wrinkled almost imperceptibly at her simpering tone, and at the way her gaze flicked just a little too long between his shoulders and collar.

“You may take us to Sir Grunpeck,” he said coolly. “At once. We’ve neither time nor patience to waste.”

The young witch blinked, flustered, and quickly nodded. “O-of course, my lord. Right away.”

She turned with a swish of her hips that was far more deliberate than necessary, her steps oddly theatrical as she led them toward the back fitting rooms.

Lucius exhaled slowly, his expression a carefully composed mask of disdain. He watched her retreating figure with a look one might reserve for something sticky on the bottom of a shoe.

“Utterly shameless,” he muttered under his breath, his voice just loud enough for Draco to hear.

Draco smirked, but didn’t comment—his focus already back on Harrison, who stood still and wide-eyed, like a child who didn’t quite believe any of this was real yet.

The sides of the shop were lined with standard robes in muted tones—simple cuts and practical fabrics clearly meant for the everyday witch or wizard. Yet Harrison’s eyes lingered on them with quiet awe, as if even the most ordinary garment were woven from pure gold. He didn’t dare reach out, but his gaze clung to each piece like it might vanish if he blinked too hard. As though the whole experience were a dream he’d wake from if he allowed himself to believe in it too much.

The clerk, still all smiles and fluttering lashes, led them deeper into the shop and down a short hallway, her heels clicking delicately across the polished wooden floor.

“This way, please. Sir Grunpeck will be with you shortly,” she said as she gestured gracefully toward an open fitting room. Her eyes flicked once more toward Lucius with far too much interest, but he swept past her without a single glance, the disdain practically rolling off him in waves. He entered the private salon and settled himself with a smooth motion into one of the three red velvet armchairs that stood beneath a tall enchanted mirror.

Draco and Harrison followed close behind. Draco moved with casual ease, perching himself on the seat beside his father, while Harrison climbed quietly into the third, still clutching the edge of the armrest like he wasn’t entirely sure he was allowed to sit there at all.

They waited in silence. Harrison swung his legs slightly, his feet not quite touching the floor, his gaze flicking between the golden-trimmed mirror, the racks of opulent robes in the corner, and the lush red carpet beneath his shoes.

It wasn’t even five minutes before the door opened again with a soft click, and an older wizard swept into the room. He was tall and lean, with a stiff back and long-fingered hands, dressed in sharply tailored robes of midnight blue that shimmered when the light hit them just right. His silver hair was neatly combed back, and his spectacles hung from a fine silver chain. A tape measure hovered behind him like a loyal dog.

“Lord Malfoy,” the man greeted with a respectful nod, voice rich and cultured. “Always a pleasure.”

Lucius inclined his head. “Sir Grunpeck.”

“And young Master Draco,” Grunpeck continued, offering a brief smile. “I trust you’ve grown since your last fitting. I’ll have to update your measurements soon.”

Draco beamed a little at the attention, but said nothing.

The tailor’s eyes finally turned toward the smallest figure in the room. He paused—just for a heartbeat—as he took in the boy’s pale face, the ill-fitting hand-me-downs, and the way he clutched the side of the chair like it might tip over if he let go.

“And this must be... our new heir,” Grunpeck said softly, his tone shifting immediately into something far more careful. Not patronizing, but deliberate, respectful. “Young Master Harrison.”

Harrison’s thumb hovered near his mouth again, but he stopped himself just in time, folding his hands in his lap and nodding slightly.

Lucius stood and placed a hand lightly on the boy’s shoulder. “This is Harrison. He is now under my protection—and he will require a full wardrobe, crafted to standard. No shortcuts. No substitutions. You understand.”

Sir Grunpeck nodded, already unspooling the enchanted measuring tape. “Of course, my lord. Every stitch will be perfect.”

Then he crouched down slightly, his eyes level with Harrison’s.

“If I may, young sir, I’ll need to take your measurements. I promise it won’t hurt a bit.”

Harrison looked to Lucius, unsure. The man gave a single, small nod.

That was enough.

The boy slid off the chair and stepped closer, still quiet, still wide-eyed—but he didn’t flinch as the tape measure darted forward and began its work, whirring around him like a curious bird.

Draco watched, arms crossed, a little smug pride creeping onto his face. Harrison might be small and silent now, but Draco had already decided—his brother would look amazing once they were done.

And no one, Draco thought with conviction, would ever mistake him for unwanted again.

“Well, he’s a little smaller than the other boys his age,” Sir Grunpeck murmured thoughtfully, crouching slightly as the enchanted tape measure darted around Harrison’s shoulders and hips. “But that’s nothing a clever cut and the right fabric can’t correct. I think we can make him look just a touch older, more refined. Something that lends him presence without swallowing him whole.”

He straightened up and turned toward Lucius with a practiced air. “What sort of materials did you have in mind for young Harrison?”

Lucius didn’t hesitate. “I would like him to wear the same fabrics Draco does.”

Sir Grunpeck gave a knowing nod, already scribbling notes onto a hovering clipboard with a self-inking quill.

“So—Silk, Satin, Velvet, Alpaca wool, Dragonhide Silk, Starlace, and Moonweave. All custom blended and layered for comfort and distinction, of course.”

“Correct,” Lucius confirmed with a slight incline of his head. “Keep his robes in darker tones. Midnight blue, deep forest, charcoal, obsidian. Colours that speak of quiet strength, not flash.”

The tailor hummed thoughtfully, his eyes drifting back to Harrison, who stood still as a statue while the tape measure made its final sweep.

“How many sets should I prepare?”

“At least seven casual day-robes,” Lucius said. “Make sure a few of them are sturdy enough for outings or light travel. Five robes for special occasions—dinners, parties, galas. I expect the Malfoy crest to be embroidered in fine thread, subtle but unmistakable.”

“Of course,” Sir Grunpeck said, scribbling faster.

“And one birthday robe,” Lucius added after a short pause, voice quieter but no less firm. “He deserves something made just for him. Something he can grow into.”

At that, Harrison looked up, confused, but didn’t speak. He seemed unsure whether to smile or hide. The idea of a birthday robe clearly caught him off guard, like he wasn’t certain birthdays were even something meant for him.

Draco leaned over and bumped their shoulders gently together. “It’ll probably be green,” he whispered. “All birthday robes are green in our house. Mum says it’s for good fortune.”

“Or black,” Lucius added, one brow rising faintly. “Black is tradition for heirs born into uncertain times.”

Sir Grunpeck didn’t comment on the exchange. He was already inspecting bolts of fabric summoned from the back with a flick of his wand—ribbons of deep sapphire velvet, threads of starlight spun into charcoal grey silk, a single length of shimmering black Moonweave that caught the light like wet ink.

“Would you like cloaks to match the robes, or separate styles for outdoor wear?”

“Matching for the formal sets,” Lucius replied. “But for everyday cloaks, you may exercise some discretion—as long as they are functional, fitted, and fashionable. And warm.”

Sir Grunpeck nodded again, lips twitching into something very close to a smile. “Young Master Harrison will be the best-dressed boy in all of Diagon Alley by the time I’m through.”

Lucius said nothing, but the faintest flicker of approval crossed his expression as he returned to his chair. Harrison stood quietly in the center of the room, surrounded by a circle of floating cloth and color, like the eye of a storm made from silk and silver thread.

He didn’t understand half of what they were talking about.

He just cuddled his bunny closer to his chest, the soft fabric slightly worn but familiar beneath his fingers. The voices around him had faded into the background, replaced by the comforting weight of the plush in his arms. His thumb was already halfway to his mouth again, the movement so automatic he didn’t even think about it—until he caught himself.

He froze.

Right before it reached his lips, he stopped short.

He shouldn’t be doing that. Not here. Not in front of Lucius, not in a room filled with velvet chairs and floating fabrics and men who looked like they belonged in books.

He lowered his hand slowly, fingers twitching slightly before he buried them in the soft blue fur of the bunny instead. His grip tightened.

Lucius hadn’t looked up, but somehow Harrison knew he would have noticed. He always noticed.

Draco shifted a little beside him, one leg swinging lazily off the edge of his chair as he leaned in, just enough for their arms to brush.

"You’ll get used to it," he said quietly, like it was a secret. "All this. It's weird at first, but it stops being weird. Eventually."

Harrison didn’t answer. He just nodded, small and stiff, and held on to the bunny like it was the only thing in the room that still made sense.

Sir Grunpeck gave a few more instructions to his clipboard, which was now sketching rough robe designs in mid-air. Swirls of inky lines and tiny notes labeled different fabrics, crest positions, and stitch choices.

“We’ll need a fitting in two weeks,” the tailor said without looking away. “And a preliminary set ready within three days. I assume you’d like them delivered directly to the Manor, Lord Malfoy?”

“Correct.”

“And the birthday robe?” Grunpeck asked, tone gentler now. “Any colour preference from the young heir himself?”

Lucius glanced down at Harrison, who stiffened under the sudden attention. His mouth opened, then closed again. His eyes darted toward the fabrics—but he said nothing.

Draco leaned forward again. “He likes dark blue,” he said with casual certainty. “Like the night sky. With stars.”

Lucius raised an eyebrow, but didn’t object.

Grunpeck nodded thoughtfully. “Moonweave and Starlace, then. Perhaps with silver trim.”

Harrison said nothing. But he didn’t look away from the swirling sketch of a dark robe floating mid-air, the faint outline of tiny silver constellations glittering at the hem.

From the front of the shop came the faint chime of the doorbell, followed closely by the whispery lilt of the shop clerk’s voice—gratingly sweet and overly familiar. A minute passed before the same green hair peeked around the edge of the fitting room door.

“Lady Malfoy has arrived,” she announced unnecessarily, her voice still just a little too breathy.

Narcissa entered a moment later, gliding past the girl without sparing her so much as a glance, let alone a word of thanks. She moved like a queen through a hall of peasants—elegant, unhurried, and entirely in command of her surroundings. With the smallest flick of her wand, the door closed behind her. She seated herself gracefully in the remaining red velvet armchair, crossing her legs and pulling a folded magazine from her bag.

“If I may,” Sir Grunpeck said, turning slightly toward Lucius, “I’d like to update young Draco’s measurements as well. Growth spurts are rarely predictable.”

Lucius gave a silent nod, and without needing further instruction, Draco stood and switched places with Harrison.

The difference in posture was immediate. Where Harrison had hesitated and shifted, uncertain and small, Draco moved with ease, stepping into the center of the room like he belonged there. He stood tall—well, as tall as an eleven-year-old could manage—and stretched his arms out perfectly to the sides, chin lifted, spine straight.

Sir Grunpeck didn’t need to correct him once. The tailor worked quickly and efficiently, murmuring measurements to the hovering clipboard, which recorded everything with soft scratching strokes. It was clear Draco had done this many times before.

Harrison climbed into the chair Draco had vacated, tucking his bunny into his lap. He watched the scene unfold, his green eyes quiet and curious, though he kept his head slightly bowed. Narcissa glanced up from her magazine once and offered him a faint smile—just a small curve of the lips—but it was the kind of smile that Harrison noticed instantly. It wasn’t forced, or pitying, just… calm. Steady.

“You’re doing very well, Harrison,” she said, her tone as smooth as the silk on the nearby racks. “Sir Grunpeck is very precise, but he’s also very quick.”

Harrison nodded, not quite trusting his voice. He hadn’t realized how tightly he was holding his bunny until now.

Draco gave a slight smirk as the tape measure coiled back up. “Still the same,” he declared proudly, lowering his arms. “No awkward shoulders or too-long limbs.”

“You’re in your last year of clean proportions,” Grunpeck said with a dry sort of amusement. “Enjoy it while it lasts. Next year, you’ll grow three inches in two months and complain about every collar I fit.”

“I won’t,” Draco said confidently. “I’m going to be dignified about it.”

“Hmm,” Lucius muttered from his chair, arching an eyebrow. “We’ll see.”

Sir Grunpeck turned back to Harrison. “Would you like to try on a fitting prototype?” he asked gently. “Just to get the feel for how your new robes will wear? No pins, nothing sharp.”

Harrison blinked, hesitating, then glanced at Lucius for permission. The man gave him a single nod.

“Alright,” Harrison whispered.

Sir Grunpeck summoned a practice robe—deep blue with silver detailing, unfinished but already finely cut—and gestured for the boy to step behind the changing screen.

As the robe floated gently after him, Harrison couldn’t help but trail one hand across the velvet as he passed. It was softer than anything he’d ever touched.

And for the first time, he allowed himself to imagine what it might feel like to belong.

“I think it is time to go. Harrison is looking a bit tired,” Narcissa said softly, her voice cutting through the quiet hum of the room with gentle authority.

At the mention of his name, Harrison turned his head toward her, eyes a little wide and glassy. He didn’t speak—just stared, unfocused, as if he’d only now remembered where he was.

Lucius stood and gave a short, formal nod. “Yes. If you would, send the robes to Malfoy Manor once they are completed. Everything should be charged to the family account.” He didn’t wait for a reply. With practiced ease, he reached down and gathered Harrison into his arms.

The boy didn’t resist. He leaned into the embrace without a word, head resting against Lucius’s shoulder, his bunny still tucked tightly to his chest. The day had finally caught up to him—his small body heavy with exhaustion, eyes already starting to close even as Lucius turned and walked from the room.

Narcissa followed a moment later, her robes whispering softly against the floor as she walked, one hand gently guiding Draco in front of her. The boy moved with confidence, glancing over his shoulder once at Harrison, before focusing forward again, chin lifted.

They passed through the corridors without pause, the bustle of the main shop fading behind them as they entered the private Floo and Apparition chamber reserved for high clientele.

The fireplace flared to life, its flames turning emerald green as the powder was tossed in.

Draco stepped into the hearth first, turning smoothly on the spot. “Malfoy Manor,” he announced clearly—and then he was gone, swallowed by the swirling fire.

Narcissa stepped in next, disappearing with the same silent grace she always carried.

Lucius shifted Harrison gently in his arms, pausing only long enough to ensure the boy’s head was cradled safely against his shoulder. Then he stepped into the flames.

With one final flicker of green light, they vanished—leaving behind only the faint scent of smoke and silk.

Chapter Text

When Lord Malfoy landed in front of Malfoy Manor, his wife and son were already waiting for him at the foot of the marble stairs. The afternoon light caught in Narcissa’s pale hair, turning it almost silvery as the breeze stirred the long folds of her gown. Draco stood beside her, his small hand wrapped tightly around her fingers, his grey eyes darting anxiously between his father and the tiny bundle cradled in Lucius’ arms.

Even though side-along Apparition could be quite taxing—especially for one so young—Harrison didn’t seem to mind. He had fallen asleep just before they left, and now he rested peacefully against Lucius’ chest, utterly unbothered by the crack of their arrival. His small face was half-buried in the fine fabric of Lucius’ robe, his lips parted around his thumb, a faint sheen of drool staining the black velvet. The small, worn bunny he had carried since the orphanage was still trapped securely in his grasp, pressed tightly against his chest as though it could shield him from the vastness of the world around him.

Lucius looked down at the boy—his son—and for a fleeting moment, the composed mask he wore so well softened. The sight tugged at something quiet and long-forgotten inside him. Carefully, he adjusted his hold so that Harrison’s head rested against his shoulder, his pale fingers brushing a lock of unruly black hair away from the boy’s forehead.

With measured steps, Lucius began to walk toward the manor. The air shimmered faintly as they crossed the boundary of the estate, the ancient wards flaring to life at the touch of unfamiliar magic. For a heartbeat, they resisted, humming like a living creature tasting something new—but then, sensing the boy’s connection to the master of the house, they relented. The tension broke, and the wards folded around them, recognizing the child as one of their own.

Harrison stirred slightly at the shift in magic but did not wake. He simply pressed closer, clutching the bunny tighter, as if by instinct he already knew that here, within these walls, he would be safe.

Narcissa and Draco walked ahead, their silhouettes framed by the great doors opening before them. Narcissa moved with quiet grace, but Draco—blond hair ruffled by the breeze—kept glancing over his shoulder every few steps. His small brow was furrowed in worry far too old for his years.

“Will he be all right, Mother?” Draco asked softly, his voice barely carrying over the sound of their footsteps on the gravel path.

Narcissa gave his hand a gentle squeeze, her own gaze flickering toward the sleeping child in Lucius’ arms. “He will be, darling,” she said, though her voice held a trace of uncertainty. “Your father will make sure of it.”

Lucius caught the exchange but said nothing. He simply tightened his hold on the sleeping boy, letting the soft pulse of the manor’s magic settle around them like a silent promise.

Lucius carried the sleeping child through the tall double doors and into the quiet heart of the manor. His footsteps echoed softly against the polished marble floors, the muted light of the chandelier catching in the folds of his cloak. He turned toward the west wing—the part of the house reserved only for family. The air there was calmer, warmer somehow, the magic of the place more protective than proud.

The room prepared for Harrison was directly across from Draco’s and just beside the master bedroom. The house-elves had been quick and thorough; the faint scent of lavender and soap still lingered in the air, and the bed had been dressed in soft, pale green linens. A small stuffed dragon sat at the foot of it, as if waiting to be chosen by its new owner.

“Tinny,” Lucius said sharply. His voice cut through the quiet like the snap of a wand. A small pop followed, and the house-elf appeared instantly, bowing low.

“Yes, Master Lucius?”

“Please ready a bath,” he instructed, glancing down at the sleeping child in his arms. “And then floo the healer. I want a full list of potions suitable for Harrison—restorative, nutritional, and anything for magical exhaustion.”

“Yes, sir.” The elf nodded and vanished again with another soft pop.

Lucius set Harrison gently down on the edge of the bed, careful not to wake him. The boy’s lashes fluttered but did not open. With precise, practiced movements, Lucius began to undo the tiny buttons of his shirt and remove the worn garments. He hesitated for a moment when his fingers brushed over a thin scar running along the child’s ribs—faint but old. A flicker of something cold passed through him, anger or sorrow, he wasn’t sure which.

He had to pry the small bunny from Harrison’s grasp, murmuring softly under his breath as he worked the stuffed toy free. The boy stirred, small fingers flexing as if searching for comfort, but didn’t wake. Lucius let out a quiet breath of relief and lifted him again, carrying him through the adjoining door to the bathroom.

The room was warm, steam already beginning to curl above the marble tub. Tinny had been efficient as always. Lucius lowered Harrison carefully into the water, supporting his head with one hand while he washed away the dirt and remnants of travel. The boy’s magic pulsed faintly against his own, light and tired, but steady.

When the bath was done, Lucius wrapped him in a thick towel, drying his hair with a flick of his wand before dressing him in soft sleepwear—pale blue cotton that looked far too fine for a child who had known neglect.

He carried him back into the bedroom and laid him down beneath the covers. The bunny was placed in the crook of his arm, where Harrison’s fingers immediately found it again, even in sleep. A faint, peaceful sigh escaped the child’s lips.

Lucius lingered for a moment, watching the steady rise and fall of the boy’s chest. Then, with a silent flick of his wand, he layered the room with protection—warding charms, alarm spells, and a quiet trace that would alert him the moment Harrison woke. The air shimmered softly with golden light before fading, leaving behind a comforting hum of magic.

Only when he was certain everything was secure did Lucius allow himself to exhale. He brushed one last lock of black hair away from the boy’s forehead and whispered, barely audible, “Rest now, my son.”

Then he straightened his shoulders and stepped quietly from the room, leaving the door slightly ajar so that the soft glow of the corridor lamps spilled across the threshold.

Outside the door stood Draco, his small frame almost dwarfed by the tall archway. His pale hair shimmered faintly in the dim light, and his hands were clasped nervously in front of him. He looked up at his father with wide grey eyes.

“Ca– can I go to him?” he asked hesitantly, his voice barely above a whisper.

Lucius’ gaze settled on his son, cool and composed as ever, though there was the faintest flicker of tiredness in his eyes. “Do not stutter, Draco,” he said quietly. His tone was meant to be stern, but it came out softer than intended — more weary than harsh. “But yes. You may. I have to speak with your mother anyway.”

Draco straightened instinctively, nodding quickly before darting past his father and into the room. Lucius watched him go for a moment — the eagerness in his step, the concern hidden beneath his carefully schooled expression — before turning away down the corridor, his footsteps fading toward the drawing room.

Inside, Draco slowed his pace. The air was warm, filled with the faint scent of lavender and clean linens. He approached the bed quietly, almost on tiptoe, as though afraid a loud sound might shatter the fragile peace in the room.

Harrison lay curled on his side, half-buried beneath the covers. His small hand still clutched the worn bunny tightly against his chest, as if it were a lifeline. Even in sleep, his brows were furrowed, his face pale and drawn. He looked so thin — too thin — and far too small for the bed he lay on. The heavy blankets and high headboard seemed to swallow him whole.

Draco hesitated beside the bed, unsure what to do. For a long moment, he just watched the boy breathe — slow, steady, and quiet. Something in his chest twisted at the sight.

He didn’t look like any of the other children Draco knew. He looked… fragile. Like a small, lost thing that had stumbled somewhere it didn’t belong.

Finally, Draco reached out and carefully brushed a strand of messy black hair away from Harrison’s forehead. The boy didn’t stir, only sighed softly and curled a little tighter around the bunny.

He sat down on the edge of the mattress, gently taking one of Harrison’s hands in his own. The quiet in the room felt almost sacred, wrapping around them like a soft blanket. A few minutes later, Draco’s head began to droop, and he slowly slumped forward—fast asleep beside him.

Lucius entered the tea room with his usual quiet composure, the soft click of the door closing behind him barely audible over the steady crackle of the fire. The air smelled faintly of bergamot and smoke, the kind of stillness that only came after a long day of decisions waiting to be made. He crossed the room and sank into one of the deep armchairs, the leather creaking faintly beneath him.

For a few minutes, neither he nor Narcissa spoke. The only sound was the gentle pop and hiss of the logs in the hearth. Then, with a soft pop, a teacup appeared on the small table beside him. He lifted it carefully, took a slow sip, and exhaled — the sigh of a man who had already come to a decision long before speaking it aloud.

“We have to get Harrison out of here,” he said finally, his voice low but firm.

Narcissa looked up from her untouched tea, her pale brows furrowing. “You don’t mean… away from us, do you?”

“Of course not,” Lucius replied immediately, setting the cup down with a faint clink. “We’ll all leave. Together. The Malfoys still have several properties abroad—one of them will do just fine for now.” He paused, glancing briefly toward the window as if already seeing the road ahead. “We can send the boys to Beauxbatons or Durmstrang once we’re settled.”

“Durmstrang would be best,” Narcissa said softly after a moment. “Their curriculum is the finest in Europe. And their… methods of discipline are far superior to that sentimental mess Hogwarts has become.”

Lucius gave a small approving nod and took another sip from his now-refilled cup. “You’re right. If we send them there, their chances of a proper future are far greater than anywhere else. Only a few matters remain to be handled.”

Narcissa folded her hands neatly in her lap. “We’ll need to go to the Ministry and have the adoption papers finalized. And…” Her voice faltered slightly, the hesitation telling him more than her words did. “We’ll have to deal with my cousin. Sirius.”

“Yes,” Lucius said, tone darkening just slightly. “That, too. We must act quickly—before Dumbledore catches wind of any of this. If we want Harrison safe from him, we can’t afford delays.” He set his cup aside, straightening his cuffs with deliberate precision. “I’ll send a few house-elves ahead to the manor in Bulgaria. It’s remote enough, and the wards are still strong. You can handle the Ministry business and the adoption paperwork. I’ll arrange a… conversation with Sirius Black.”

Narcissa inclined her head. “I’ll see to it at once.”

Lucius turned toward the door but paused, glancing back at her. “And, Narcissa—say nothing to the boys yet. It’s better they remain unaware for now. Once everything is ready, we’ll tell them.”

She nodded again, quiet but resolute.

Lucius’s expression softened for only a fleeting moment before the mask of composure returned. “Then let’s not waste time,” he said, his voice calm but carrying the weight of command. “We’ll leave before the week is over.”

With that, he left the room, the faint rustle of his robes fading down the corridor as the firelight flickered over Narcissa’s thoughtful face.

For a while after Lucius left, Narcissa remained seated in her armchair, the porcelain cup warm between her fingers. The quiet crackle of the fire filled the otherwise silent tea room, its orange light dancing across the pale surface of her hands. Steam curled lazily upward from her tea, though she had long forgotten to drink it. Her thoughts wandered — circling the same subject like a restless bird that refused to land.

She had known, of course, that something about Sirius’s imprisonment had been wrong from the very beginning. Even then, back when the war had just ended and chaos had swept through their world, she had felt that dreadful certainty gnawing at her. No trial. No hearing. Not even the courtesy of a proper inquiry. And Dumbledore — that man who so loved to call himself just and fair — had supported the decision.

Her cousin had always been reckless, yes, but not cruel. He would never have betrayed the Potters, she was sure of it.

Perhaps, she thought now, perhaps they were the only ones left who could help him. If Lucius could convince the right people — or, better yet, if Sirius himself could be given Veritaserum — they might still prove his innocence. They could bring him out of that dreadful place and far from Dumbledore’s reach. Bulgaria, perhaps. Or Durmstrang territory. Somewhere cold, distant, and safe.

Her gaze drifted to the window, where the grey sky pressed against the glass. She remembered the boy Sirius had once been — the laughing, sharp-tongued troublemaker who had secretly helped her once, when she’d fallen in the corridor and cracked her wrist. She had been only twelve then, but she still remembered the brief flicker of kindness in his grey eyes.

And there had been another boy — quiet, scarred, gentle in the way he spoke. Remus Lupin. Sirius had always been close to him. Closer than most had realized.

“Sonny,” she said softly. A pop echoed, and her small, round-faced house elf appeared, bowing low. “Bring me a yearbook — one with Sirius Black in it.”

“Yes, Mistress,” Sonny squeaked, and vanished. Moments later, the elf reappeared, holding out a thick, leather-bound volume.

“Thank you.” Narcissa took it carefully and began leafing through the familiar pages. The ink had faded over time, but the faces still smiled and moved faintly within the glossy frames. And then she found him — Sirius, sitting with that infuriatingly proud tilt to his chin, his hair long and unkempt. In the picture beside him stood the other boy, the one with the faint scars across his cheek and the shy, uncertain smile. Remus Lupin, it read underneath.

Narcissa touched the corner of the page, thoughtful.

“Maybe I should write to him,” she murmured to herself. “He might still care enough to listen.”

She straightened, voice a little clearer. “Sonny, bring me parchment, ink, and a quill.”

The elf bowed and vanished again, returning moments later with the requested items. Narcissa set the book aside and pulled the parchment toward her, dipping her quill into the ink with steady fingers. For a long moment she stared at the blank page, unsure how to begin. Then she took a quiet breath and started to write.

Letter from Narcissa Malfoy

Dear Mr. Lupin,

You may find it strange to receive a letter from me after so many years — and stranger still that I should write on such a personal matter. Yet I believe this concerns not only my family but also yours, and I ask that you read this in full before deciding how to respond.

There are certain truths that have begun to come to light — truths about what truly occurred the night the Potters died. My husband and I have reason to believe that your friend, Sirius Black, may have been imprisoned unjustly, without trial or proof beyond mere accusation. I know this may not surprise you, but what might surprise you is that there are now means and evidence that could be used to contest his sentence.

For years, I told myself it was not my place to interfere. I was wrong. There are debts of blood and family that I can no longer ignore. Sirius may have turned away from us long ago, but he is still of my House — and I will not stand idle while injustice continues.

I would ask to meet you, discreetly, at your earliest convenience. There are matters I cannot trust to ink and parchment, and I believe that together we may be able to aid him — and perhaps protect another who is now under our care.

If you are willing to meet, send your reply by the same owl. I will ensure your safety and discretion.

With respect,
Lady Narcissa Malfoy (née Black)

 

Narcissa read over the letter twice before nodding in quiet satisfaction. It was careful but sincere — neither desperate nor foolishly trusting. She dried the ink with a quick flick of her wand and folded the parchment neatly, pressing her seal into the wax.

“Sonny,” she said again, holding it out, “take this to the owlery. Make sure it reaches him — and only him.”

“Yes, Mistress.” The elf took the letter reverently, vanishing with a soft crack.

Left alone once more, Narcissa let the quiet return to the room. The fire had burned low, shadows gathering in the corners, and with them came thoughts she could no longer silence. Her gaze drifted toward the window, where the faint outline of the gardens stood silvered under the moonlight.

Her mind went, inevitably, to her sons.

Draco — her bright, proud boy — and little Harrison, the child who had so unexpectedly found his way into their lives and home. What would this change bring to both of them? The thought settled heavy in her chest. They would be taking Draco away from everything familiar — his playmates, his tutors, the world he had known since birth. And Harrison… Harrison would be leaving the only place that had ever truly felt safe to him.

Two children, barely four years old, to be uprooted from all they knew and carried across seas and borders into a land where even Draco spoke only the simplest phrases. Different customs, different skies, and a language that would sound strange in their young ears. Could she really ask that of them?

And yet — she must.

Narcissa rose from her chair, smoothing the folds of her gown with a quiet sigh. The house was silent now, save for the soft hum of the wards and the distant crackle of the fire. She walked through the long corridors of the manor, her steps light on the polished floor, her fingertips grazing the cool marble walls. Each portrait she passed seemed to watch her go, as if the ancestors themselves were holding their breath.

At last, she reached the door she sought. Harrison’s room.

She pushed it open gently, careful not to let the hinges creak. The sight that met her stilled her breath — two small boys tangled together on the great four-poster bed, fast asleep. Draco’s arm was draped protectively over Harrison’s middle, their heads close together on the same pillow. The blanket had slipped down to their knees, their small bodies shivering in the cool air.

A soft smile curved her lips.

She crossed the room and lifted Draco’s legs fully onto the bed, adjusting the blanket until both boys were tucked in securely. The faint shivering stopped as warmth settled over them.

For a long moment, she simply stood there — watching them breathe, their small chests rising and falling in perfect unison. She brushed her fingers gently through Draco’s pale hair, then through Harrison’s dark curls, the contrast like light and shadow beneath her hand.

“So different,” she whispered softly, “and yet already so bound to one another.”

Her touch lingered a moment longer before she drew back. She straightened, the faintest smile still on her face as she turned and quietly closed the door behind her.

For all the fear and uncertainty that waited beyond tomorrow, that image — two small boys safe and warm beneath her roof — gave her the strength to hope again.