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After Draco fussed over him and cosseted him, Harry calmed down and they both decided to work on homework until supper time. Draco left to work at his own desk in his quarters so Harry settled to work but he couldn't concentrate very well. He decided to take care of some things he'd been putting off, like settling back into his real persona, the one he'd developed with Frankie and Johnny's help.

Harry had Mimsey dig out a few more of his more outrageous things. He put on his steel bracelets again and took a moment to pick drops for his earrings. He wondered how Lucius had missed his pierced nipple then realized that the only times Lucius had seen him without a shirt he'd been a bit more occupied with other things.

Mimsey found the things Harry asked for. But she frowned at the bracelets. “Why you is wearing these?”

Harry glanced at her then plucked a needle from thin air and flicked it at a small cushion. It penetrated enough to pin the cushion to the chair it was on. He flicked his hand and said, “Accio pin, cushion Reparro.” The pin flew to his hand and the cushion mended itself.

Mimsey blinked once. “Oh, this is good. Mr. Harry Potter, sir, can defend himself. But ... how many throwing things can come from so little metal?”

Harry shrugged. “Not many. I really would like to make these twice the size, but I'm having trouble getting metal that won't be missed.”

“Mimsey can get more, better metal. You is doing assignments.” Mimsey didn't make it a question. She disappeared with a soft pop.

Harry ran a hand through his hair with a sigh. He decided to work on his paintings for Herbology but he wasn't sure where to set up. He didn't want to dribble watercolor or dirty water on the carpet. He wasn't sure any of the cleaning spells he knew would take it out. 

He finally decided to roll up a small area rug near the windows and put up his easel there. He filled his water containers from the tap in the bathroom and settled to paint.

He worked on a violet for a bit then changed to his foxglove painting. He had three paintings going right now so that he could work on one as the other two dried. After completing washes on each painting he set them to dry and went to check his supplies.

After a quick and not too thorough check Harry knew that he had to get more paper. And he needed a new #3 round. He had at least a half tube of almost every paint he used and several full pans of the ones he used the most of. 

He was just checking on the last pans of color when Mimsey popped back in. “Mimsey has found some steels and the Copier has sent this map of Malfoy grounds. See, here is your trails.” She pointed to an area labeled 'Gardens'. “And here is the stables. The grounds of the Manor is marked with this line. You must not go outside it.”

Harry took the map and glanced at it. It was clear, with the boundaries marked in black. “Thanks. I'll look it over a bit later. I'm going to have to read Appendix C or I'm going to be getting into all kinds of trouble. Thanks for the steel and the map. Good evening.”

Mimsey nodded. “I is leaving out your robes to wear to supper. Good evening.”

Harry decided to do some yoga as he was feeling restless and thought it might calm him.   He jumped a bit when he heard the gasp from the doorway. When he turned his head, he saw Draco standing there with his mouth open.

“Draco.” Harry eased out of his pose and lay down to relax a minute before getting up to get ready for supper. “I'll be with you in a moment. I need to relax or I'll get stiff.”

“Ok, should I go, or stay.” Draco took a small step backwards, ready to leave if Harry asked him to.

“Stay. I won't be but a moment.” Harry lay down and relaxed. He hadn't realized that he'd spent so much time on his painting or he wouldn't have done yoga. He let all his muscles go slack and just rested for a few moments. If he didn't he'd settle tension in his muscles that he didn't need.

Draco stood watching Harry as he relaxed. He never seen such flexibility before. He wondered if it hurt. He decided that the worst thing that would happen if he asked was Harry would laugh.

“Does it hurt?”

Harry looked blank for a moment. “Does what hurt?”

“Doing that. I didn't know a leg could go like that.”

“No.” Harry did laugh. A light easy thing. “If you're doing it right, it doesn't hurt. You can hurt yourself if you push too far too fast. Pain is the body's way of saying, 'Don't do that, idiot.' I tend to listen.” Harry grinned easily. “I better get changed or we'll be late. Wouldn't do to piss Papa off even more than he is already.”

Harry rubbed his stomach, it was already upset in contemplation of a meal spent listening to how stupid and useless he was.

Draco waited as Harry started to change, he wondered why Harry was rubbing his stomach but forgot it when he realized that Harry was going to wear the wrong robes.

“Harry, not those. Those robes are for a much more formal meal than just you, me and father.”

“They're what Mimsey put out. Which ones do you think I should wear?”

Draco just opened his closet door and rummaged for a moment. “Here. These are much better. Casual without being sloppy.”

Harry took the robes and pulled them on over his sweats. He looked at himself in the mirror then said, “I better change into trousers, I think. I don't want to insult anyone.”

Draco sighed. This was not going as planned at all. Harry seemed much more guarded than they'd first thought. This near obsession with insult was annoying and concerning. He watched as Harry got dressed. Harry took off the robes, changed into trousers and a button down shirt, pulled on a vest and then the robes again.

When they entered the dinning room Lucius looked up, nodded and complimented Harry on his robes. Harry blinked for a moment then thanked him.

As they were served, Lucius spoke to Harry carefully making sure that Harry was settled comfortably before beginning. Harry braced himself for a rattling lecture but instead Lucius put a box on the table.

“I've put this off for a while, until I could research the proper times and forms where you should use each seal. You're entitled to the seals of family Malfoy, Potter, Black and LeStrange. You should use the Potter seal on personal correspondence, unless it's to members of the Black or Malfoy family, then you should use the Malfoy seal. Business should be sealed with the seal of the family the business concerns. You are, of course, entitled to use more than one, if you like. If you do, I'd recommend using your personal seal along with a family seal in the way I've already described. Any questions?”

Harry stared at Lucius for so long that he began to wonder if Harry had heard him. He was just about to say something when Harry shook himself out of his shock. “Um ... oh, you're not going to rake me over the coals for..” Harry waved a hand.

“No, of course not. You made a mistake, you were punished for it. That's the end. I don't bring up old news unless it's necessary for some reason. Back to the subject at hand. Seals.”

“I don't have a personal one. Fucking Dumbledore never got me one. I didn't even know I needed a bloody seal until you said something about the sodding things.”

Draco's jaw dropped. Lucius ignored the language with an urbanity that had driven stronger men than Harry to screaming point.

“If you don't have a personal seal, I'll have one made for you. Draw up something you like. If I were you, I'd get a good writing box and keep my personal seal in it. You don't usually put a personal seal on business contracts, your signature and family seal are more traditional. For now, you should probably use the Malfoy seal, or the Black. And the Potter seal as well. The LeStrange seal ... I'd repudiate the use of that one.”

Harry thought about that then asked, “Ron told me about repudiating a name. I'm the last heir of the LeStranges, right?” Lucius nodded. “I'd like to repudiate the name and refuse the seal. Perhaps ... I don't know. Advice?”

Lucius thought for a few moments, chewing his veal absently. Draco nibbled on his lip for a few seconds then asked, “Father, couldn't he end the family line. He's the last heir after all. He could merge the LeStrange properties and money with the Black fortune and just deface the seal and send it to the Wizengamot.”

Lucius turned to look at Draco, a proud expression on his face. “Excellent idea. I had thought of something along that line but it's really up to Harry.”

Harry contemplated his food for a moment, realized that his stomach was rolling and sighed. “That sounds good, I think. But what about Rudolphus and Rastaban? Aren't they legal heirs?”

Lucius smirked. “No, they were disinherited by their father when they became Death Eaters. Old Runestar LeStrange was a stickler for Old Traditionalist customs and couldn't stand the fact that they didn't ask his permission first. Old fool never designated another heir. I managed to get all their money settled on you by virtue of you being the Black heir and Sirius being the last Black. Narcissa is not in line for the Black nor LeStrange fortunes because the moneys and properties are entailed on a male heir. Too bad, that. But no sense repining over it.” He smiled at Harry for a moment.

Harry smiled back, rubbed his stomach and said, “I'd like to do that then. But I'm not sure how it all works, exactly.”

Draco spoke up before Lucius could. “You write a letter to the Wizengamot, in the person of the Grand High Mugwump, and tell them that you, as heir, are ending the line. You enclose the LeStrange family seal, defaced. Usually just taking a knife and cutting a gash across the face is enough. Correct father?”

Lucius nodded. “Correct. So, Harry, here are the seals.” He pushed the box across to Harry.

Harry opened it and poked at the rings with one finger. “Um ... what finger should I wear what on?”

Lucius nodded. “In order of precedence; Potter on the right index finger, Malfoy, right ring finger and Black on the ring finger of your left hand. Your personal seal goes on the index finger of your left hand. I don't recommend wearing them all at once. It's a bit ostentatious. Perhaps just the Potter ring on your right ring finger.” He smiled slightly at Harry's expression. “Don't worry. The rings will fit whatever finger you put them on.”

Harry slipped the rings on the fingers Lucius had said he should then took out the LeStrange ring. He stared at it for a moment then just closed his hand around it. He clenched his fist then opened it again.

“I think that will get the idea across, don't you?”

Both Lucius and Draco paled. Harry had bent the ring shank flat against the back of the crown, the face of which was defaced with several deep holes. It was still recognizable as the LeStrange seal but the intent was obvious.

“Yes, I do believe so. Would you like me to help you write the letter?”

Harry nodded then turned pale and hurried from the table. Draco followed him then rushed back to get Lucius.

“Father, it's really bad. He's vomiting blood. Hurry!”

Lucius slapped his napkin down on the table and hurried after Draco.

The sounds of Harry's distress carried into the hall. Lucius glanced around and realized that the only withdrawing place near the small dinning room he favored for family was a small service cupboard. Harry was kneeling in it, vomiting into a basin. At least, this time, he'd actually managed to make it to the room. Always before he hadn't made it past the hall. Lucius frowned at the contents of the basin.

“Go call Mw. Thomas. Ask him to come at once.” Lucius caught Harry's hand before he could wave his wand “Leave it. The mediwizard will want to see it I think.” Harry just made a soft whimpering sound and dry heaved.

Draco returned almost at once to announce, “He's on his way. He said not to banish the vomitus, he wants to see it. He also asked if it was bright red or dull.” Draco paled a bit. “I'm not looking. I'm sorry, but I think, if I have to see it again, I'll sick up too.”

Lucius just eased Harry to his feet and helped him to a small sitting room nearby. After getting Harry settled on a fainting couch, Lucius went to meet the mediwizard. The face that Mw. Thomas saw was stern and cold, almost cruel.

“I thought you said the potions would begin repairing the damage. They're not. He's still ill at the slightest sign of argument or chastisement, and he hasn't gained an ounce. He is more active, but tires easily. He wouldn't tell me such a thing, you understand, but I have eyes in my head.”

Mw. Thomas sighed, then nodded. “Well, show me the vomitus first.”

Lucius suppressed his expression of disgust without a thought and led the way.

Mw. Thomas examined the contents of the basin and nodded to himself. “I think the young man has ruptured a blood vessel in his throat. This blood is too bright a red to be coming from his stomach, or anything ... farther in. I'll take a look at the young man now.”

Harry rolled his head to look at the mediwizard when he entered. Draco, sitting beside Harry, opened his mouth to say something then shut it at the quick shake of the head from Lucius.

“Well, well, young sir. I hear you still don't feel quite the thing. Let me take a look at you.” Mw. Thomas pulled his wand and cast several spells. “Hummm. Yes, well, you've ruptured a blood vessel in your throat. That is where all the blood is coming from. Nothing to be concerned about, I assure you. But this vomiting is bad. And Lucius says that you've been eating well but not gaining much, or any, weight. I'm beginning to think the systemic invasion of the Moogra Oil is worse than I first diagnosed. I'd like a sample of your blood please.”

Lucius suppressed a gasp, blood was a very dangerous thing to give up. Harry must be worse than Mw. Thomas wanted to say.

Harry just asked if he needed to roll up his sleeve.

“No, I just need a drop or two. It won't even hurt.”

Harry held out his hand and waited. Mw. Thomas sat down on the edge of the couch and cast a sanitizing spell over Harry's hand. He pulled a needle out of a small case and sterilized it. Then he reached into the case and took out a simple glass slide. He put the slide on his knee and took Harry's hand. He started to prick Harry's finger, stopped then tried again. He sighed and shook his head.

“You'd think this would get easier the more I do it. I find it very hard to take blood.” At Harry's incredulous stare he explained, “The sight doesn't bother me, it's the fact that I have to make you bleed to get it.”

Harry just snorted, took the needle from his hand and stabbed his finger with it. “There, that ought to do it.” He dripped three drops on the slide. “Need more? Better get it while I'm still bleeding.”

The mediwizard replied absently, “No, no, this is more than enough. I'll just examine it right here, give me a moment.” He rummaged in his robes for a moment then found his equipment. He inserted the slide into a holder, after a moment he looked into an eye piece.

“Well, that tears it. Your blood shows that you're anemic, lacking several micro nutrients and there are enzymes there that tell me you're breaking down muscle for fuel.” He gave Harry a stern look. “Are you reducing? If you are, I need to know.” Harry looked so blank that Mw. Thomas sighed. “You have no idea, do you?”

Harry suddenly frowned. “Do you mean, am I bulimic or anorexic? No! I eat. It's just ... sometimes it won't stay down. I try, really I do.”

“So...I see. Well, we'll have to do something about that. Have you been taking Stomach Calming Draughts?”

Harry shook his head. “No, I'm really careful about them. And Dreamless Sleep too. They're both based on opiates and I don't need an addiction to add to all my other troubles.”

The mediwizard looked very pleased with this and nodded. “I'm sure you don't. And, Stomach Calming Draught can rebound on you. I have some alternatives but I need to do some research before I make a choice. Have you always had stomach troubles?”

Harry hung his head and grumbled. “Comes from a certain someone leaving me in a place where the stress was high and the meals scant, at best. And the tension of having Riddle trying to kill me every other week doesn't help. I have to workout to keep in shape and ... well, my workouts are long. That uses up a lot of calories.”

“Many more than you're taking in. I realize that you can't stop your workouts, but you need to get on top of this before you're back sick again.” Mw. Thomas looked thoughtful for a moment. “I think that getting enough calories into you and keeping them there is the ticket. I want you to keep a diary. Write down what you eat, if it stays down or not and how you were feeling during and after every meal. Then we'll see about things.”

Harry just stared at him. The man actually wanted him to keep a diary of what he ate? “This is bizarre. Why? I ... that's a girly thing to do.”

Lucius immediately saw the usefulness of the diary. “You'll do as you're told. If you keep the diary we can figure out what agrees with you and what doesn't. And find out if your ... emotions are part of the problem.”

“Lecturing him at table is sure to be a problem. I think part of this was brought on by his fear of a ramping lecture.” Draco turned to Harry. “Which he won't do. Father says that only a barbarian would ruin good food with bad conversation. Right?” Draco turned to Lucius for conformation.

“Exactly.” Lucius nodded to Draco. “Would you be so kind as to fetch the purple leather bound book in the top right hand drawer of my desk? Thank you.” He watched as Draco left the room. “Harry, I need to know how many potions you've been taking, outside the ones prescribed for you.”

Harry gave Lucius a level look. “None. I know more about the dangers of addiction than I want too. I'm very careful with opiates.”

Mw. Thomas raised an eyebrow at that comment but refrained from any remark of his own.

Lucius didn't hold back. “Harrison James Potter, do you really believe that I'm so neglectful that I'd let you get addicted? I assure you that I keep careful count of all the opiates in the house. All of them.” Lucius looked as perturbed as he ever had. “Don't ever feel you can't ask for a potion. I'll make sure that you don't go over the limits.”

Harry smiled gratefully. “That's nice to know. Thank you, Papa.”

Mw. Thomas examined his results again. “I don't know how you've managed to get this sort of ... result. I don't usually see such extremes of fatigue poisons in anyone outside of a few people who were involved in heavy training. Very heavy. More that three hours a day.”

Harry cleared his throat and squirmed guiltily. Every eye in the room turned to him.

Draco, who'd returned with the book, managed to get the first word. “Ok, Potter, out with it. You've admitted to training. How many hours are you doing and how are you managing?”

“Um ... about ... well, three hours for martial arts, an hour each of yoga, tai chi, and meditation. It takes me about another hour to finish my run. So, seven hours? Yeah, that's about right.”

Lucius clenched his teeth and gritted out. “And how, may I ask, are you managing seven hours of training a day?”

Harry shrugged. “I run first thing before breakfast, clean up, eat breakfast, do some studying, stretch time for my martial arts workout and tai chi, do my yoga in real time, and my meditation I do just before I go to sleep. Helps me sleep and fend off nightmares. Um....” He cast a pleading look at Lucius. “Am I in trouble?”

Lucius gave him a considering look. “Perhaps.” He turned to the mediwizard and asked, “Could his level of activity account for the lack of weight gain?”

“Yes. I can adjust the nutrient potion to allow for more activity but I'd really like to see him get most of his nutrition from food rather than potions. That's why this diary is so crucial. Now, I think the best thing would be for young Master Harry to go to bed and rest. I'd like him to have some strong chicken broth and weak, sweet tea.”

Draco sighed, he was well aware that Harry seemed docile, but you couldn't turn your back on him for a second. He'd be out of bed the second he thought Lucius wasn't watching him. Draco had seen Harry roaming the house late at night several times already.

“Oh, fuckin’ hell, fine. I'll go to bed. But I don't want sodding chicken broth. I want something else. And no damn weak tea. I want milk.”

Mw. Thomas blinked at the sudden flood of profanity, he wasn't used to hearing a Pureblood speak like that. Nor was he used to hearing a person of Harry's age ask for milk.

Lucius, however, managed to show his control of Harry, no matter his relationship. “Harrison, you will do as you're told. I know this is upsetting, I'm upset myself, but you will not show that attitude. If you do not want chicken broth, ask for something else that is suitable. If you want milk instead of tea that's fine. Draco, accompany him to his rooms, see him settled and fed. I'll consult with the mediwizard ...” He pinned Harry with a glower that had quelled stronger wizards than he thought Harry to be. “then I will be up to check on you.”

Harry just nodded a bit sullenly and rose to go with Draco. Draco nearly cringed. He did not want to wind up refereeing between his father and foster brother.

.

Draco managed to get Harry into his bed, despite the fact that it was only a little after six.

Draco summoned Mimsey and told her to fetch milk, toast and fruit with yoghurt. Harry settled in sullen silence in his bed, obviously sulking.

“Harry, if you sulk, father will only be harder on you. He expects us to act our age. If you don't want what I ordered, just tell me what you want to eat. You eat it then we'll read or something until he shows up to check on you then I'll go back to my rooms and we'll all be happy. Ok?”

Harry sighed. “Ok. What you ordered is fine. But ... this is ridiculous. A food diary? What the hell?”

“It's to figure out what's making you sick. You're as thin as a wand now, if you lose much more weight you'll blow away in a high wind. And being underweight is a good way to be sick a lot. Your immune system is buggered as it is.”

Harry made a face but realized that Draco was right, and wasn't that a pain, he did need to gain some weight. The food journal was looking less and less like foolishness and more and more like something he was going to have to do whether he liked it or not.

“Ok, give me that damn thing. We'll start with dinner. What was that veal thing? And the sauce? It was really good. The potatoes and green beans. Let's see, no pudding, I was sick before we got to that.” Harry wrote quickly then mumbled something about being worried about getting 'dressed down'. “And then I was sick.”

Draco sighed. “Well, I don't think that was really much help. You've had veal before, and potatoes and green beans. What was different? Something....” Draco nibbled on his thumb absently.

Harry sighed, rubbed his face and flopped back on his pillows. “Nothing, except I was expecting a dressing down that I didn't get. And that bit with the rings was a bit of a surprise. I don't like surprises much, they usually hurt.”

Draco gave Harry a blank look then flinched slightly. He really didn't want to know what kind of surprises Harry was used to.

.

Lucius approached Harry's door, perfectly willing to do whatever he had to do to get Harry to do what he should. He stopped when he overheard Draco saying, “Well, damn, I can't make any sense of this. You eat chicken and one day you hurl then the next you don't. It's the same with everything you eat.”

Harry replied, “Yeah, and Papa is going to have my head on a plate if we don't figure this out. Sucks, that's what.”

Lucius tapped on the door then entered. “I'm not going to be angry as long as you're putting in a real effort. What did you have for lunch?”

Harry told him and admitted that it hadn't sat well either. Lucius sighed.

“I'm sorry that that was in part my fault.” He settled into the chair Draco offered arranging his robes without thought. “I'll never throw a mistake in your face, once you've been punished. And that's another thing I think is making you nervous.”

Harry just shrugged. “It's ok. I know that you'll get disgusted with me sooner or later. I'll go when you ask me to. I can go back to Frankie and Johnny. They'll take me in again, or make sure I have a place to go. And with my money ...” Harry gave Lucius a worried glance. “You'll let me have my allowance, won't you?”

Lucius ground his teeth so hard they squeaked. “I'll let you have an allowance, but you'll not be going anywhere until you reach your majority. And not then, unless you wish to. You'll find that I have a very strong stomach. We Death Eaters are rather hard to disgust.”

Harry blinked for a second. “Oh, well, I never thought of it like that. Um ... you won't send me away?”

Lucius shook his head, a slow back and forth motion that made his braided hair swing against his shoulder. “No. There's not much you could do to make me send you away. Accepting the Dark Mark might, I'm not certain about that one.”

Harry snorted. “I don't think. Bloody great tat. And not even a nice one.” He shuddered dramatically then settled back against his pillows.

The bang of something being dropped out in the hall made them all jump. Lucius had his wand in his hand so quickly that it seemed summoned. Draco was right behind him but Harry beat them both. He had his wand in one hand and a knife in the other as quickly as Lucius had drawn his wand. They made quite a tableau each one armed and ready for combat, none of them realized that they had automatically formed a triangle, covering each other's backs.

“Well, fuck a duck. What the hell was that?” Harry tossed his head to get his bangs out of his eyes. “Shit, my fringe needs a trim.” He settled, tucking his wand and knife away so quickly that neither Draco nor Lucius saw where he kept them.

Draco put up his wand and rubbed his arms, crossing them over his chest protectively. Lucius made a mental note to break him of that habit. It showed too much of his feelings. Lucius just tucked his wand back in its hiding place and settled in his chair again.

“Service!” The head house-elf popped in and bowed. “I don't know what happened, and I don't care. If it ever happens again, I'll know who to punish. See to it that the offender understands the error of its ways. Go!”

The elf just nodded and disappeared again.

Harry hid his shaking hands in the covers and sighed. He was more on edge here than he'd thought he would be. He wasn't sure of his place here yet and that set his nerves to dancing.

Lucius noticed Harry's shaking but refrained from comment. He just rubbed his hands together and remarked, “Well, that was exciting.” He nodded to Draco then asked Harry, “Do you need anything? If not, I'll be off to my quarters. I'm going to have to have some words with the Head House-elf, things are getting out of hand again. I can't understand why they insist on acting out. Disgraceful.” He strode out, never noticing Harry's slightly open mouth.

.

Draco went to his rooms and spent several minutes demolishing cushions, his pillows and a foot stool. He wanted to rant and rave. This was unendurable. He was finding out that all his preconceived notions about Harry were wrong, distorted through a glass of his hurt feelings and Snape's inferences.

After venting his temper, Draco took a long bath, donned a lounging robe and settled in to do some of his required reading. He was behind on his reading and needed to catch up, he didn't intend to be embarrassed at table by having his father ask about his studies. He wasn't about to have to tell him he was behind.

After reading for nearly an hour Draco suddenly had a rather horrible thought. Harry had run away during the Christmas Holiday, he was going to have to either take a make up test or be held back a term. No matter how you looked at it this was going to be a problem.

He got out of bed and went to his fathers rooms.

He tapped on the door, got a 'come in' and entered.

“Father, I hate to say this but ... Harry's going to have a real problem when he gets back to Hogwarts. He's missed a whole term. He's going to have to make that up, and do the summer work as well.”

Lucius sighed, it seemed he was doing a lot of that lately. “Very well. I remember you said that you'd given him the summer assignments. What about the class work?”

Draco bit his lip for a moment. Lucius refrained from scolding him for it.

“I think Harry's been ... yes, he told me a while ago. He's been doing the readings and the end of chapter questionnaires. He might actually be ahead, in Magical History at least. Binns is a disgrace.”

Lucius scowled remembering his own experiences in History. “He is, however I made sure you know the truth. You did get an O on your OWLS after all. I ... let me think about this. Thank you for brining your concerns to me. Something will have to be done to make sure that Harry doesn't shame himself on his return to Hogwarts. Leave it to me.”

Draco smiled slightly. “Yes, sir. Sir?” Lucius looked directly at Draco. “I think ... I'm beginning to think that most of the things we believe about Harry are false. I think I could really like him. Is that ... wrong?”

Lucius shook his head. “No, it's not wrong. He's your foster brother now, you need to remember that. I'm going to admit that I'm actually not having as much trouble as I thought I would. He's just so ... clueless, yes, that's it. He's totally clueless as to how a family ought to work. Even one as dysfunctional as this one is.”

Draco looked insulted and indignant. “Dysfunctional? We're not...” He paused as Lucius shook his head, a solemn look on his face.

“We're certainly not normal. A father that followed a psychopathic megalomaniac and a mother that pays more attention to fashion than her son? I think we're borderline at the very least. But I'm making changes as best I can.”

Draco snarled wordlessly as he tried to argue this. It didn't work. Everything in him said that his father was right. “Well, but ... we'll ... Oh, I don't like this!” Draco left the room, storming out in a huff. But he didn't slam the door. Lucius looked after him for a second then went back to his contemplations.

.

Severus Snape was not happy. He had come to Switzerland to try to find some rest. And some potions ingredients. He was finding the ingredients but not the rest. His Mark burned constantly and nothing he tried, no potion, no cream, no lotion, worked to ease it. 

He stalked through the streets of Andermatt with a scowl on his face. Women scurried to snatch children out of his way and strong men stepped aside.

After striding along for nearly ten minutes he finally found the shop he was looking for. He entered and started browsing the shelves. He ducked under a bundle of dried herbs and sniffed, they weren't very fresh. He sneered at the dangling vegetation and pushed deeper into the shop. As this shop was known more for its mineral ingredients than its vegetable, he didn't worry too much about the quality of the moonstone he was looking for.

“Excuse me. I'd like to see your moonstone.” Snape looked down his nose at the clerk. He could hardly help it because he was at least 18” taller than the man.

The clerk sneered at Snape. He got one back with interest. “There's no goods here for the likes of you. Take yourself off.”

Snape wondered for a moment if the man was suicidal or just stupid. “Moonstone, now.” His glower nearly set the man's hair on fire.

But he was made of stronger stuff than expected. “No, I know who and what you are. I won't have the reputation of this shop sullied by dealing with your sort.” He managed to straighten up, adding another inch to his height. He also stuck out his chest, which made him look like an infuriated pigeon.

Snape curled his lip in a furious sneer. “So, you know who and what I am. Yet you show me your teeth, puppy. Take yourself and your idiocy off and fetch your master.” The clerk paled as Snape let a bit of his power be felt.

Severus Snape was a lot of things, an Expert Brewmaster, a champion duelist, an Occlumens and Legilimens, a Death Eater, spy, and a very powerful Dark Wizard. Very powerful. He had learned to shield from Voldemort himself, so that Dumbledore wouldn't realize how powerful he really was nor that he was supposedly spying for Voldemort. When he eased his shields down, the clerk gave a little squeak, the owner recognized the magical signature and came out just in time to see what was going on. Just in time to keep Snape from losing his legendary temper and squashing the idiot like a bug for his potions.

“Hello, Severus, how have you been keeping? What do you need today?” Mr. Brimly, the owner, nodded to the clerk. “I'll take this, Henley, you finish stocking.” He turned back to Snape. “Moonstone, I think you said? Come into the back, I have some very fine powdered stone there.”

Snape followed Mr. Brimly, examined the moonstone then asked for a few other minerals. He examined all his prospective purchases carefully, picked what he wanted and made arrangements to have it delivered to Hogwarts.

After he departed Mr. Brimly had a few words with Henley, which included idiot, fool, suicide, and a few others.

.

Ron Weasley was tired and hot, since he'd gotten out of school early, Molly had decided to take on the task of cleaning the Burrow from attic to basement. Of course, the second she'd announced this task, the twins and Percy had found other engagements that just couldn't be gotten out of. That left Ron and Ginny to take the brunt of the work.

He was now cleaning the rafters of the second floor. He worried as he cleaned.

He hadn't heard from Harry nor Lucius in nearly four days. Hermione had written him three times since the end of term, whining about letting out early and worrying that she was going to be behind in her studies. As if it was Harry's fault. He was not in a good mood.

“Ronald, you're not cleaning those well enough. Wipe them down again.” Molly breezed through the room and out again.

Ron glowered after her and snarled, “Not as if I'm not trying. These beams haven't been cleaned since I was born. Damn it, I'm hot and thirsty.” He tossed the rag away and went to get a drink of water and have a rest.

As he made his way down stairs he wondered for the thousandth time why he was doing this by hand. It was idiotic that he had to do manual labor that wasn't productive when he could do the job properly with magic.

He started to go back to work but just couldn't persuade himself it was worth it. He sneaked off to hide in the woods behind the Quidditch pitch.

.

Lucius knew he was not a good man, he'd given up on that farce before he'd turned 12. His father and grandfather had both had a hand in molding him into a Pureblood; cold, hard and dedicated to nothing but his family and its welfare. They hadn't intended that, exactly, they'd intended to mold him into – he wasn't sure what.

His grandfather had served Grindelwald as had his father. They'd both served Voldemort and taught him that Purebloods were better than others and that Voldemort would give them what they deserved.

Well, he had done that. Lucius rubbed his arm absently. It stung all the time now.

When his father had died Lucius had come into the title of Head of Family. He'd taken his responsibilities seriously and done his best to do what his father and grandfather expected of him. Then he'd realized that all he was doing was running the family fortune and name into the ground. When he'd tried to find a way out, all he'd gotten was a wife who despised him and a son who loved but feared him. He couldn't stand that and had started trying to find a way out. A way that he couldn't find on his own, it had taken his son to show him the way. Now, he was going to have to make sure that he did this right. He could not fail. For his sake, for Draco's sake, and especially for Harry's sake. He sighed and rubbed his face. He was going to have to walk so carefully. He had to discipline Harry in accordance with the contract but he also had to make sure that he didn't slip over the line into cruelty, and he wasn't sure he knew where the line was, or if Harry's line was different from his own.
.

Harry woke the next morning and wondered if it was worth getting up. He still felt a bit off and seriously thought about staying in bed. Instead he threw the covers off and got up.

He called Mimsey and told her to find his flying robes. He was going flying this morning, never mind the cold. He needed to clear his head and think.

Mimsey brought his robes and Harry smiled, he still couldn't believe that Lucius had bought them just because he thought he'd like them.

“I'm going flying. Will you tell Papa that I won't be to breakfast? I'll get something from the kitchen later.” Mimsey gave Harry a disapproving look. “And don't give me that look. I'm not afraid of the kitchen. And I don't expect you to scurry around, getting me food, at the drop of a hat. My broom, please.”

Mimsey produced Harry's broom and he left his rooms, by the window. Mimsey shook her head and went back to work. She was pleased with herself that she remembered to put the map in Harry's inside pocket.

Harry flew around Malfoy Manor, examining the 'house' carefully.

It wasn't a house in the usual sense of the word. It was huge, sprawling and magnificent.

Harry wasn't any more educated in architecture than any other teen aged boy but he thought he recognized styles from Medieval to Tudor and Stewart. He decided that the house had started out as a Medieval keep and been built onto from that time to this. Probably the last addition was Georgian, maybe. 

Harry flew on, over the gardens, admiring the Gertrude Jekyll designed gardens and the lily ponds, although the lilies weren't in bloom or even above water yet. He saw his jogging paths and several closed walks and the labyrinth. He also noticed several gazebos of various sizes. His impression of the gardens and the large lake at the back of the grounds was of beauty and refinement.

He continued on, wondering exactly where he was going. The crackling from his pocket attracted his attention so he hovered for long enough to fish in the pocket and extract the map. He examined it and realized that he was no where near the boundaries marked on the map. He decided to fly on.

He flew until he could barely see Malfoy Manor, even from the height he was cruising at. He turned his head away from the manor house to look ahead. A shimmer caught his eye and he flew towards it, wondering what it could be.

It took him several minutes to get to it, he wasn't in any hurry so when the magic slammed him off his broom he was low enough and going slow enough that he wasn't much hurt. He managed to roll with the fall instead of landing flat. He wound up at the base of a bush. A rose bush. In full bloom.

“Wa.. Huh?” Harry sat up, rubbing his head. “Ouch!” He winced as his shoulder protested.

He looked up when a shadow fell over him. He saw a tall, slender man looking at him with a frown on his face.

“Who are you?” His voice sounded like distant bells, tolling softly. “What are you doing here?”

“Um ... I'm Harry Potter. I was just exploring the grounds. I'm sorry if I scared you.” Harry stood up and slapped the dirt out of his cloak.

“I see. Did you perhaps notice the forbidding?”

Harry blinked up at the man. He was very tall and had long Galleon gold hair and blue eyes.

“Forbidding? I don't know what you're talking about. I'm sorry.”

“Not now, but you will be. Come with me.”

Harry dug in his heels. “I'm not going with anyone I don't know. Who are you? Where is this place? Why are you being so hateful over an accident?”

The man turned back around and eyed Harry for a moment. “Well, I suppose it is wise of you not to go anywhere with someone you don't know. I am Prince Randdil Falarina eldest son of King Arindion Falarina. This is the Crossroads, the only remaining place were our reality joins with yours. I am being hateful, as you call it, because you are not allowed here. The only human allowed here is the Head of the Malfoy family. You will be punished.”

Harry glared. “I don't care who you are. It was an accident. I didn't do anything wrong.”

“You are a fosterling of Malfoy?” Harry nodded hesitantly. “Then you broke the covenant. It forbids anyone from trespassing on the Crossroads. You did wrong.”

Harry shuddered, this man was cold as ice, he hadn't even asked if Harry was alright. He was but just barely. His shoulder hurt where he'd bruised it on a rock as he rolled away the velocity of his fall. He'd also scrapped one elbow and hit his head. He decided that following Prince Falarina was the best decision, for now.

The prince lead Harry away from the site of his crash. Harry wondered why he didn't just apparate or something.

They walked for a long while. Harry followed quietly, broom on his shoulder.

“We'll be waiting here for your ... father. He'll be told what you have done and your punishment will be his decision, but punished you will be. Do you understand?”

Harry stuck out his chin in a stubborn gesture that made the prince frown. “No, I don't understand. I didn't do it on purpose and no harm has been done. Why should I be punished for a mistake?” Harry pulled out his map and looked it over carefully. “There's no marking on the map that says I shouldn't fly anywhere. If there was any indication that I shouldn't be here, I wouldn't have come.”

The developing argument died aborning as Lucius strode out of the bushes and stopped a few feet away.

“What is going on here? Harry, what are you up to?”

Harry went on the defensive. “I was just flying. I didn't do anything and the next thing I know, I'm on the ground and he's looming over me. He said I was going to be punished for violating their air space. I didn't know I wasn't supposed to fly over here.” Harry handed Lucius the map. “If I wasn't supposed to fly over this part of the grounds, why isn't there some sort of note to tell me not to?”

Lucius studied the map and sighed. “I see.” He turned to the prince and asked, “Do you understand that the boy didn't have any ill intent? He is young and impulsive, also, this map is not marked as it should be.”

The prince gave Lucius a stern, cold look then gazed at Harry for a moment. “I leave the manner of punishment up to you but punished he must be. The Covenant demands it. He is your fosterling, see to it. Or there will be consequences. Do you understand me?”

Lucius snarled his fury but nodded his head. “Yes, I understand. Will a term of confinement be sufficient?”

“Yes, this will teach the young one to stay where he belongs. Go now, and you...” He glowered at Harry. “trespass no longer.”

Lucius took Harry by the arm and dragged him away towards the manor house.

Harry didn't protest, he knew better. Lucius hadn't abused him yet but that didn't mean he wouldn't and Harry really wasn't interested in finding out how bad it could get.

Lucius never realized, until much later, that Harry had a PD for his caretakers. A Psychological Dominance fixation, he felt compelled to obey his caretakers, no matter what they did to him. Dumbledore had a lot to answer for.

.

Harry whimpered softly as Lucius dragged him down a hall and then a long flight of stone steps. He was thrust into a cell like room and Lucius turned his back on him.

“Be glad that I still have a good relationship with the Darklings. If I hadn't, they would be in the process of torturing you to death.” He yanked at his braid, breathing heavily. “I can't talk to you now. I'm too angry. I'll send ... Draco will come.”

He slammed the door and Harry heard a heavy bolt shoot home.

“Well, fuck.”

Harry looked around himself to see a large room with an enclosed box bed built into a nook beside a huge fireplace, the other side contained a built in writing slant with a bookcase above it. He turned to examine the other side of the room. This was setup as a sitting area, with a comfy chair, table, foot stool and a free standing bookcase with a writing top. There was a large open area in the middle of the room. The walls were covered with tapestries, interspersed with torchiere and there were free standing candle holders scattered here and there. But there was only one window, small and high up in the wall. It had a small window seat under it.

Harry wondered how long it would be before Lucius or Draco came to tell him how long he was to be imprisoned for. He wished for a pain potion to ease his sore shoulder and bruised head, not to mention a healing charm for his knee. He wondered if he'd be fed.

.

Lucius stormed into his quarters and pulled his wand from its place. He spent the next twenty minutes blasting everything in the room to bits. He was so angry that he couldn't think straight.

His statement to Harry had been true, the last time someone had trespassed on the Crossroads had been in the 1500's. The body had been returned to the family in a barrel of wine; in pieces, very tiny pieces. The thought of Harry going through the tortures that the record said the offender had suffered before death made even Lucius shudder.

Lucius thought about his anger, he never got angry at Draco, not really. Draco, he realized, had never done anything to induce more than vague scorn in him. Of course, he'd used that as an effective whip to spur Draco on. He wondered, now, if that had been as wise as it seemed.

He sighed and called for an elf. When the elf came he ordered it to pack all Harry's possessions and take them to him. Then he sat back to plot and plan.
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