Mrs. Malfoy buried her head in Mr. Malfoy's shoulder. Draco got up and came over and hugged Harry. Harry gave him a hug back, confused, not knowing what to say. It felt like jagged shards of glass in his throat to be telling someone, but it was also over.
"I can't believe it," Draco was whispering over and over again when Harry paid attention to him. "I made fun of you and I acted like I was so much better than you, and—I can't believe it. I should never have teased you for being poor and not knowing anything last year. I'm sorry, Henry."
Harry opened his mouth to say that Draco sounded like he was only sorry because Harry had turned out to be his brother and Draco shouldn't make fun of people no matter how poor they were, but Mr. Malfoy spoke again. "And is that the end of it?"
Harry squirmed, his eyes on the floor. The cupboard was bad enough. Did he really have to tell the rest of it?
"Henry."
The name helped brace him, oddly, even though it still didn't feel like his name. The abuse had happened to Harry Potter, and Harry Potter would never be himself in the same way again. He would never have to go back to the Dursleys again.
And sooner or later, he did have to trust Mr. Malfoy when he said he wouldn't go torture and kill the Dursleys.
"They punished me sometimes by taking food away from me," he said. There was such absolute silence that he looked up, and had to look away again from the fury on Mr. Malfoy's face. Mrs. Malfoy still had her head buried.
Draco tightened his arms around Harry.
"How often?" Draco asked hoarsely.
Harry shook his head. "There was no pattern. When they got really upset, it was longer. They told me I wasn't going to have a meal for a week after I talked to a boa constrictor at a zoo and accidentally made the glass vanish so the snake got out and scared my cousin—I mean, Dudley. But they forgot about that a day later and fed me again because they wanted me to be strong enough to do chores. Then they would make me skip dinner if I burned something, or breakfast if they thought I was going to get 'spoiled' later with lunch at my primary school."
"And no one did anything." Mrs. Malfoy's voice sounded almost broken.
"No," Harry said, looking up. She was staring at him again, but tears still trembled in her eyes, and she was clutching Mr. Malfoy's hand like she wouldn't be able to stand up without it. "Sometimes a teacher asked me questions, but the Dursleys were pretty good at lying to get out of it. And my cousin made sure that other kids thought I was a freak, too."
"What did he do?"
Harry shrugged. "Chased me with his friends. Beat me up. Lied to get me in trouble. Made sure I had no friends."
"Shit," Draco said, and then cringed as Mr. Malfoy glared at him. "That's why you reacted so strongly to me taunting Weasley on the train. I thought you were exaggerating when you said he was your first friend, but…"
"He really was," Harry agreed quietly. Hesitantly, he hugged his brother back. He wondered why it was so much easier to think of Draco as his brother than it was to think of the Malfoys as his parents. Maybe just because he knew Draco better. "I didn't have anybody who would try and be loyal to me and care about me until then."
"We care about you, Henry," Mrs. Malfoy said, and then she stood up and walked over so she could hug both Draco and him. "So much."
Harry nodded and squirmed a little closer. He was finally beginning to believe that.
He knew it would take some time. For one thing, they hadn't really interacted with his friends yet. Mr. Malfoy and Draco would have to stop talking about Hermione like she was worthless, and Draco would have to stop taunting Ron.
But maybe they could be a family in a shorter time than he'd thought.
....
"Shouldn't I go back to Gryffindor Tower?" Harry asked, when he heard a distant rush of footsteps and realized it must be people going to dinner.
"We would like you to come home for tonight," Mr. Malfoy said, quietly but firmly. "There are still some conversations we would like to have, and it's better to have those conversations in the privacy of the Manor rather than at the school."
"I—is that even allowed?" Harry blinked. He thought it was unusual enough for parents to be allowed to visit their children during the school year. He couldn't remember ever seeing them here.
"It will be allowed because I request it." Mr. Malfoy stood. "Headmaster Dumbledore is still somewhat distracted by the part he thought our child had to play."
Harry frowned as he watched Mr. Malfoy go. "He's taking advantage of Headmaster Dumbledore being upset because he put me with the wrong people," he muttered.
"Of course he is." Mrs. Malfoy was just holding him tighter. "If everything had fallen out as it should have, your father would not have that pull over the Headmaster, Henry. But it fell out this way, and the least of the debt the Headmaster owes you is letting you spend some time with your family."
"Will Snape be upset with me?"
"What does Professor Snape have to say about it?" Mrs. Malfoy pulled back to stare at him.
"I don't know, he said something about making a vow to protect me because he thought I was a Potter, and then he insisted on coming with me to the Headmaster's office and saying that Professor Dumbledore should call me Henry."
"And when were you intending to tell us that you visited the Headmaster's office?"
"I just did," Harry pointed out, and hated the way that he got all stiff. Then again, he also hated the way that Mrs. Malfoy made it sound like it was his fault for not telling them about something that had only happened a few hours ago.
"Why was he calling you Harry?" Draco interrupted.
"Because he said we were friends." Harry would have said more, but Mrs. Malfoy drew in a sharp breath and shook her head. The tears had disappeared from her eyes, which Harry supposed was something to be grateful for.
"That man is trying to retain a degree of control over you that is inappropriate," she said. "He needs to be reminded that he is your Headmaster and your abuser, not your friend and not your Head of House."
"He's not my—"
Mr. Malfoy stepped back into the hospital wing, wearing a small, satisfied smile. "We have permission for Henry to come home with us for the night. He'll need to be back right after breakfast tomorrow, but with Floo, that's no problem."
"Ugh, I hate the Floo," Harry muttered.
He hadn't intended to be heard, but Mrs. Malfoy said, "All the more reason to get used to it, Henry. Something you haven't experienced often is bound to be difficult."
Like being told that I'm part of a family and my name is Henry? Harry thought, but he kept quiet as they escorted him over to the hospital wing's Floo and asked Madam Pomfrey for the powder.
The last thought had actually struck a spark inside him. He thought about it all the way through the Floo, and the horrible whirling, and the way that it spat him out of the fireplace onto the floor and Draco laughed at him and Mr. Malfoy cast a charm that cleaned the soot off him.
Maybe being Henry Malfoy would be more natural when he heard it more often. Maybe he should try to be around the people who said it, too, as long as they were kind to his friends, and not just the people who called him Harry.
Maybe.
....
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