"Are you all right, Harry?"
Hermione's eyes were warm and sympathetic. Harry smiled at her and sat down next to her in Transfiguration. Ron was on the other side of the classroom saying something forceful to Seamus. Apparently he'd played some kind of prank on Ron at breakfast this morning, and Ron was saying he already had enough pranks from the twins to deal with.
"I am," Harry said, and opened his book. He'd done his Transfiguration essay over the Christmas holidays, and had Mr. Malfoy read it over and Mrs. Malfoy give him some tips that he could add in. He didn't think it was perfect, but it was better than a lot of the essays he'd written in the past.
"Why did you leave the school like that yesterday?"
"The remark Ron made in Potions," Harry said, lowering his voice. The last thing he wanted was to have the other students who seemed to have forgotten about it staring at him again. "Draco figured out from it that I'd been abused, and he went and told his parents. Then they wanted to talk to me, and, well, I got to spend the night at Malfoy Manor."
"They're your parents, too, aren't they?"
Hermione just meant the question to help him think, Harry knew, but he found himself pausing and staring down at his Transfiguration essay again. The words that Mr. Malfoy had read over with him. The information that Mrs. Malfoy had helped him add. The reminder of the chapters that Draco had talked about while sitting next to him.
Were they? Did he think of them that way?
He wanted to, was the answer. While at the same time he wanted to remain Harry Potter. He wanted to have a family and a brother and a home, but he also wanted his old name and his old looks and his old friends.
It seemed like he would get to keep "Harry" and his friends, if not the way he used to look. But what would happen with the family and the brother and the home, if he kept pushing them away? If he never got used to them?
Maybe, just like he needed to hear "Henry" more often to get used to that name, he needed to think of Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy as "Father" and "Mother" and Malfoy Manor as "home" to make them more familiar.
"Harry? I didn't mean to upset you. I know it's really fraught—"
"No, Hermione, it's okay," Harry reassured her, touching her shoulder. "You just gave me something to think about."
He watched Professor McGonagall sweep into the room. She began calling the roll just as she always did in the first class after a holiday, and she met his eyes and pronounced the name "Mr. Malfoy" without hesitation.
Could he do the same thing?
I want to try, Harry thought, and looked across the room to where Draco was sitting with the other Slytherins. Draco caught his eye and nodded, although Harry doubted he knew what he was really agreeing to. His brother just supported him because he was his brother, and Harry probably seemed to be looking for reassurance.
Maybe Harry would start relying on him for that reassurance.
Maybe, the next time a stranger introduced themselves to him, Harry would say that his name was "Henry Malfoy."
Maybe, tonight, he would write a letter with the names "Mother" and "Father" in it, and mean it.
He would try it. And see what happened.
….
"Mother will say if they can visit."
"They can visit." Harry scowled at his brother as they stepped off the train.
Draco pointed his nose at the train ceiling, and let Harry see that he'd done none too good at a job at cleaning out his nostrils that morning. "I know that my friends won't insult anyone. You can't say the same about Weasley."
"Ron wouldn't have said anything if you hadn't insulted his rat!"
"Rat is a misleading term. Dust rag would be more accurate."
Harry opened his mouth to retort, and Ron pushed past them hard enough to make it clear that he'd heard. His ears were bright red, and Scabbers was clinging to his shoulder and squeaking in alarm. Harry gave Draco a dirty look and ran after Ron, catching up with him just as he was getting off the train.
"Not right now, okay, mate?" Ron turned his head away from him.
Harry sighed. He knew Ron wasn't really upset about Scabbers. It was the reminder that he was poor, and even if Harry had turned out to be Henry Malfoy instead of Harry Potter, he'd just gone from one rich family to another. And Draco could say volumes about wealth with a look.
"All right. Write to me when you can, okay? I want both you and Hermione to come over this summer."
Ron glanced at him, then nodded. "We'll see," he said, just before he saw his parents and ran towards them. Ginny tagged after him with a blush for Harry. Harry was glad that she at least seemed less shy and withdrawn than she had at the beginning of the year.
He shook his head as he watched Gilderoy Lockhart step off the train. It was kind of a pity that something terrible hadn't happened to him the way it had to Professor Quirrell, but Lockhart had announced that he wouldn't be coming back for a second year as the Defense professor because he had "fans to please and books to write." So there was that.
"Henry!"
Harry turned around more quickly at the sound of that name than he had at the beginning of the winter term, and saw Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy waving at him from the end of the platform. He started towards them, Hedwig flying out the train door ahead of him. She was just as happy not to be spending the summer in a cage.
Mother and Father, Harry reminded himself as he leaned close and let Mrs. Malfoy hug him. I should think of them as Mother and Father when I'm around them.
It was still difficult, though. Especially if what Draco had said in their argument was true. From the way he was standing with his nose still in the air and his cheeks flushed a smug pink, he'd already told the Malfoys—Mother and Father—about it, and expected to get his way.
"Henry darling," Mrs. Malfoy said, gently putting her arm around his shoulders, "Draco told me that you'd like to invite some children from Slytherin over to the house during the summer and thought they might not be welcome. Of course they will be. I wanted to reassure you about that."
"They're not from Slytherin," Harry said, and tried to ignore the feeling of alarm that flashed through him when he saw how Mr. Malfoy's face changed. But he persisted, because being afraid of his own family wasn't going to help him achieve anything that he wanted. "They're Ron and Hermione. Maybe Neville. They're all from Gryffindor."
"The Ron boy is Arthur Weasley's youngest son?" Mr. Malfoy asked.
Harry threw him a defiant glance, remembering the way that Mr. Malfoy—his father—and Mr. Weasley had fought in the bookshop last summer. "Yes, he is. My best friend."
"And Hermione is Granger," Draco butted in, his face flushing with more than temper from the look of it. "From no distinguished family."
"I really hoped that the next word out of your mouth isn't about to be Mudblood, Draco," Harry hissed, softly enough that most of the people passing by them on the platform wouldn't hear.
"Draco. What have I told you about that word?"
....
Can't wait to read ahead. Then Join my P@treon and get 60+ chapters.
Even Free members can enjoy 2+ advanced chapters FOR FREE.
Link: [email protected]/Divine_Quill
Join Right Now