Harry Potter The Long Lost Malfoy

But Lucius would not take Hogwarts from his son, or the friends who had been there for Henry since before they learned his identity, even if he seemed to be having some sort of fight with the Muggleborn girl at the moment. He instead bent down to touch his lips to Henry's scar like a blessing, before he moved back.

"How close are you to destroying all of them?" Henry asked, his head upturned and his face pale and solemn.

"We are not close yet to finding a way to take the one out of you," Lucius said. He had promised his son honesty about this, and that was probably the only way to keep from losing Henry forever. Dumbledore had lied to him, Black had lied, and his kidnappers and Mrs. Potter's relatives. Lucius would not join their ranks, the ranks of those who had alienated his son. "But we have possible leads on a few of the others."

Henry nodded and rubbed the back of his neck for a moment. Then he took a deep breath and asked, "How can I help?"

"You cannot."

Henry scowled at him at once, his cheeks flushing pink. "Just because you think of me as a child—"

"You cannot help at the moment because we do not know how much of the information might transfer down your scar to the Dark Lord," Lucius interrupted. He hated talking about this, but he had to. He had promised honesty. "The connection between you might be weak since he doesn't have a body, but it might also become stronger. We do not know what his state is right now, or who might be helping you." Lucius did not know the state of all the other Death Eaters, or who might be drawn to the Dark Lord's side, or even coerced into helping him.

"Oh." Henry subsided again.

"When we know more, we will tell you some things," said Narcissa abruptly. Henry turned towards her and relaxed. It was ridiculous to be jealous of his own wife, but Lucius did feel a brief stab of it then. Henry was always more easy with his mother than his father, no matter how well they had come to understand each other in the last few weeks. "But at the moment, there is truly nothing you can help with."

"You're sure about this?"

"Yes, Henry. We are sure."

"All right," Henry said, and gave them one more hesitant smile before he turned and vanished up the steps into the Manor.

Narcissa reached out and tapped Lucius's arm with one pointed fingernail. "Stop acting as though you have lost your Crup puppy, Lucius. Let us return to our research."

"I know. But is it foolish of me to wish that someday he will be as easy with me as Draco is?"

"Not foolish. Only not possible right now."

That was a good way of phrasing it, Lucius thought, one that acknowledged reality without shutting out hope for the future. He nodded, and began to focus on that future again.

"Does this have something to do with Henry?"

"No." Mother leaned over and ran a tender hand down Draco's cheek. "It occurred to me that too much lately has been about Henry. I wanted an afternoon that was just for us, in the shops in Diagon Alley, as we used to go."

Draco felt a painful bound of relief and happiness in the center of his chest. He did want Henry to get better, of course, and he would fight to defend his brother. Maye even kill. He didn't know yet.

But it was sometimes hurtful to see Mother and Father working so hard to identify the problem that linked Henry to the Dark Lord, and solve it. Draco sometimes felt left out. And now Mother had sensed that, before Draco could even ask her—and before he had to feel bad about asking when it might take his parents' attention away from Henry—and they were going shopping.

Mother swept him into an Apparition, and they landed in a small alley off Diagon, between clothing shops. Mother touched Draco's cheek again and asked, "Where do you want to go first?"

"Madam Malkin's."

Mother's eyebrows rose.

"I want to get the finest set of dress robes she can commission. And dragonhide boots. And dragonhide gloves."

Mother chuckled and put a hand on Draco's shoulder to steer him along. It wasn't needed, not when he was fifteen, but he lifted his chin and walked beside her, as proud and relieved as he had been on the day he got his Hogwarts letter.

A lot was about Henry, but not everything.

Albus sat back behind his desk and sighed softly. He had secured Sirius's agreement to be the Defense professor this year just in time. The Ministry had tried to interject a candidate of their choice, and simply based on her presence in the Wizengamot, Albus shuddered to think of what changes she would have tried to wreak in Hogwarts.

Of course, Sirius would have to be under a glamour, and with a false name and history. Otherwise, Harry Malfoy wouldn't be the only child not returning to the school. There were plenty of people who thought Sirius still guilty and whispered that his trial had been rigged, no matter that he'd been acquitted of betraying the Potters.

Albus leaned back with his hands clasped across his stomach and shook his head at the ceiling.

In the end, his own comfort didn't matter much. Neither did Sirius's comfort, or Harry's, more was the pity. Voldemort believed in the prophecy. He would probably return to a body this year, if he hadn't already. He would seek Harry out and attempt to destroy him. It was more important that Harry be alive and ally with people who could protect him than that he be comfortable. And while the Malfoys might say they had turned their backs on Lucius's Lord for the sake of their son, Albus would never trust them.

The past is the only indicator I have of whether I can trust them. And I cannot.

Albus leaned forwards and picked up a piece of parchment, beginning to write, slowly and steadily. He would need to send instructions to Remus and to his allies among the goblins. There were preparations to be undertaken before Harry returned to the castle.

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