Author:TheSiner

Title: Father's Love

Word Count: 6,150

Genre: Romance/General

Pairing: Harry/Lucius, Draco/?

Summary: COMPLETE Draco watches Lucius and Harry, but does not realise what he is seeing until it is too late. HP/LM, slash, A/U. Oneshot.

Setting:A/U after Harry's sixth year.

Rating: NC-13 – just in case.

Disclaimer: These characters are not my own and belong to J.K. Rowling and affiliates. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Warnings: slash, OOC, A/U, non-canon, not beta-edited. Non-graphic slash, swearing.

Status: Complete

Last revised: October, 2008

Father's Love

I love my father. I have never told him that; we do not get sappy like a bunch of Hufflepuff third years around Malfoy Manor. That doesn't change the fact, that father is the most important person in my life and I am the most important person in his life too. Mother and Father – they are not really that close. They are partners, but it has little to do with love.

I personally think, that it is a good thing, because it means that I am the most important person to both of my parents.

Father has never told me that he loves me, but it is not necessary. 'I am proud of you son' – that's what he says instead and I understand. I am not a witch; I don't have to hear the words. Really.

I am proud of my father. People pay attention to him, always. It would be impossible for him to walk into the room, without making everyone turn their heads.

"Look, it's Lucius Malfoy…" they whisper.

No one is indifferent. Oh, they might hate him, fear him, envy him, but those are all forms of consideration. Everyone takes notice of Lucius Malfoy in one way or another.

I want to become like him one day.

He commands obedience. It is amusing to watch my father ordering someone around. One look, a couple of well-placed words and they scramble to do his bidding and when they realise that it has not been Lucius place to order them, it is already too late.

He is a master manipulator.

Really, they just don't measure up. They are so inferior, that I wonder if it hurts them. One of the things I am enjoying about working together with the scum – it's a chance to show them what a proper wizard looks like. In contrast of those ragamuffins, Weasleys and the other idiots on the side of Light.

We don't have to become like them though. We are only using them to get rid of The Dark Lord.

"We are not giving up our ideals, Draco," I remember father explain the situation to me. "But the wizard who demands that we call him our Lord is not fit to represent them anymore. No Malfoy has ever bowed before a half-blood and never will."

Father has told me everything (the older I get the more he trusts me with though). The Dark Lord has been deceiving us. His blood is no better than Potters. He is nothing, but a half-blood upstart who only wants more power and couldn't care less for our culture and traditions. Besides, he has gone dangerously insane since his return. He is unpredictable.

It is only logical to defect.

Of course, when we defect, it means that many other families follow us. Crabbes, Goyles, Parkinsons, Notts and many others. Naturally, Father is leading them.

"Be careful," he warns us before the negotiations start. "Dumbledore is manipulative, he will try to make you believe that you owe him something, he will try to trick us into believing that we are in his debt and must repay him for allowing us to be on his side. Don't let him. We are not joining them. We don't want anything more from them that they want from us; we are agreeing to help the Light as much as they help us."

Yes, father is smart. The other families look up to him and let him handle the negotiations with the old coot. I am so proud that my father can stand up to the wizard The Dark Lord himself fears. Even Potter, the speckled moron is looking at my father with badly masked awe. He is staring as if he was trying to figure Lucius out or something. I want to snort (not that I would make an inappropriate noise in public) – surely, Lucius Malfoy is too much of a challenge for his little Gryffindor brain.

I have known father for my whole life, but he is still a mystery to me.

I am somewhat taken aback when I notice that father is looking at Potter as well. He is not as obvious as the Golden Boy about it. Of course not. But he is looking. Studying the bespectacled git.

He is subtle, but I know my father well enough to notice those small things and I have grown up with truths buried amongst polite phrases and feelings hidden behind subtle glances.

Initially I am surprised that there is no scorn, no distaste in my father's eyes as he is scrutinising Potter. I can detect only pure curiosity. It is disappointing, I must admit. I think I have expected… I would have wished for my father to dislike Potter, for him to see Potter for the ugly, stupid, good-for-nothing Gryffindor he is. I have expected him to be different and not be fooled by Potter's fame (which he doesnn't realy deserve).

But then I berate myself. I am being childishly petty. I have no way of knowing, what father is planning. Knowing him, there is a plan and Father is acting according to it.

It is very possible, that he disdains Potter deeply, but can't afford being obvious abut it. Hell, I can't remember him ever being obvious about anything except his attitude towards Arthur Weasley, but Weasley is a low-life of no importance, so one can afford to spurn him in public…

Anyway-- I dismiss Father's interest in Potter as 'know thy enemy' thing. What else could it be?

After all everyone is interested in The-Boy-Who-Lived. More or less. Just because people are curious, doesn't always mean they worship the little freak, right?

But he's just that, a freak. Before I met him, I really thought Harry Potter would be someone special, after hearing all the stories about the extraordinary, little boy I was intrigued like never before. I couldn't sleep the night before going to Hogwarts just because I knew I would meet Harry Potter, the great Harry Potter who would probably be the coolest boy ever.

Merlin, but how disappointed I was.

Turned out that the famous Boy-Who-Lived was nothing, but a little, snotty kid with unnatural affinity to Weasleys. Whatever.

Really, he's just weird. Staring at people with those large, green eyes, from behind his ugly glasses. Unnerving.

And I am forbidden to pick fights with him. Or anyone else from the Order of Red Gryffindorish Chicken.

"I want you to show that you are better than them, Draco," see, Father did not really order me to play nice, but I know that he would be disappointed if I did the opposite.

So I keep my mouth shut and keep observing.

But by observing I notice that father is still watching Potter. And with every time he looks at him, there is something in his eyes. Some very particular emotion, which I can't quite name.

I start wondering what Lucius is planning. After all, my father is one of the most cunning wizards I know. I feel almost sorry for Potter. He will wish the Dark Lord had finished him off all those years ago after Lucius Malfoy will be done with him.

I must try not to look so gleeful…

I wish I cold ask Father about his plans. But I know better; if father wanted me to know, he would have told me. Nonetheless, I am watching impatiently.

I can't even express, how annoyed I am, when Potter and his motley crew move into the Manor. But it is a necessary evil, I guess. I am not sure why father has agreed to turn our house into the headquarters, but whatever his reasons are, I trust him.

Father has been somewhat secretive lately. Well, more than usually – he is always secretive. I understand, I think. War is a serious matter and he is very busy.

I am also not very happy that my involvement in this is going to stop at doing research… but I understand. I am the next and the only Malfoy heir and thus the family can't afford loosing me.

But it's frustrating to only do what I am being told and not to know what's really going on.

I feel an urge to go and pester Severus, but discard the idea immediately. I will only get yelled at. He has a temper of a nestling Hippogriff, especially when stressed. I have no desire to be trampled.

"Thank you Mister Malfoy," the library door is ajar and if I lean a bit forward, I can see Father standing by the fireplace and Potter standing in front of him. He is so short, so diminutive next to my father, hardly reaches his chin. Potter is forced to tilt his head back and look up to look Lucius into eye.

"You have nothing to thank me for, Mister Potter," Father drawls. Of course, what would he care for Potter's gratitude?

"Of course, I do," Potter smiles from ear to ear, staring at my father in what appears to be… admiration? I admit, I find it a bit disconcerting. Shouldn't he think of Lucius Malfoy as of embodiment of evil or something?

"There is really no need for that," Father turns away and returns to his table. The huge mahogany desk has belonged to the family for generations. We know more about the history of that table than Potter knows of his ancestors. I must somehow point out that to him…

"Well, I think there is," Potter's eyes follow father. He is a remarkable sight after all. Well built, elegant, graceful… I guess one has to be blinder than Potter to miss that.

"But still, I owe you. I know it. There is no reason to be that noble about it. You saved my friends. If not for you, Hermione, Ron and Ginny… they would be… lost. I am in your debt."

Yes, that much is true. Those three would have been made practice targets for dark curses if Father had not happened to be in Hogsmeade yesterday.

But, I almost burst out laughing. Salazar's pants! What a little, naïve Gryffindor fool Potter is! He insists on being indebted to my father! Oh, he better be ready for when Lucius Malfoy will collect the debt. It will be something good, something very, very good and probably painful and unpleasant, I am sure of that.

I decide that it is time to get lost though. I can see that Father is about to dismiss Potter and I don't want to be caught spying, do I?

I think I am getting better and better at that, since it's the only somewhat interesting way to pass time around here.

Mostly I am bored out of my wits. At the moment, the Manor seems almost deserted. Father is obviously busy; mother is in her wing doing something with Mrs. Nott and Mrs. Parkinson. Not that I ever seek her out when I have nothing to do.

I decide to go to the second library. It is smaller than the main library and one of my favourite places in the Manor, with soft light and very cushy chairs. Malfoys have it for the books we don't want to display. Not Dark Arts. No. Trashy love novels, muggle books and similar embarrassing guilty pleasures.

When I open the door, I am surprised to find Remus Lupin there. With a mug hot and very chocolaty hot chocolate and a copy of 'Cursed with Love'.

"Oh, Mr. Malfoy, good afternoon," he greets me, looking a bit embarrassed to be caught with a cheesy love novel. It is kind of cute. If I hadn't known that the man was a werewolf… he's just kind of comfortable to be around. I don't really want to, but I respect the man. He is intelligent and good looking in his own scruffy way and very patient. I know what I am supposed to think of his kind, but…

"Professor," I greet him trying to suppress my smirk and settle down in another chair, accio 'Morgan's Passion' and call a house elf. I am also in a mood for some hot chocolate.

Dumbledore and his toadies decide that Potter should receive more training for his final confrontation with the Dark Lord. And, guess what? They want Father to train Potter. Apparently, every good for something member of the Order is otherwise engaged or unavailable for different reasons.

Dimwits.

It is like asking a dragon to look after your livestock. I don't doubt that father will teach Potter plenty of useful spells, it is in our best interests after all. But the important question is what else Lucius will teach him. I try not to look too gleeful. It is unbecoming.

But, damn, I am excited!

Naturally, I am going to spy on them.

I have gotten very good at sneaking around and this is Malfoy manor, my territory. My playground. I know every corner, every nook in this house. I want to see father humiliate Potter, which will certainly happen.

They practice outside, in the garden. Wards are up, so no spell can escape certain area. Wouldn't do to blow up one of our albino peacocks and scorch mother's roses.

But it also means that I can hide in the nearby bushes without worry.

Hiding n the bushes. Kind of humiliating, I know, but the view is superb and no one can see me behind the thick leaves of Royal rhododendron. It's not that anyone is ever going to find out.

Father has taken off his robes. He is wearing only breaches, knee-high boots and a white shirt. I hope, I will look as good as him when I will be his age. Not that he is old for a wizard, I don't mean that. What I mean is that I am almost as tall as him, but still too thin. Father, however… his body is powerful. He is a man while I am just a boy.

I think it's very possible that in a couple of years I will look more like Lucius.

Potter on the other hand… he's maybe an inch taller than Granger. The Weaslette is going to outgrow him soon. Some hero… well, today Potter looks like something cat dragged in. Messy hair, glasses askew, jeans too small and threadbare, t-shirt many sizes too large.

Sweet.

But, bloody buggering hell, if he's not determined.

His incredibly (yes, I am admitting this) green eyes are burning with some strange fire, his fingers are gripping his wand so hard that his knuckles has turned white and lips are so red that they look as if he has been chewing on them for hours. Which I have noticed Potter does sometimes, when he is nervous. a disgusting habit.

They are standing still, but it feels as if they were circling around each other, appraising one another.

Then suddenly Lucius lunges forward: "Expeliriamus!"

Potter falls down on his butt and his wand flies into Father's hand. Ha!

"Always be ready, Mr. Potter. The Dark Lord will not take time to bow and exchange pleasantries before beginning the duel,"

I am surprised when Potter doesn't pout and sulk, but simply nods and scrambles to get back on his feet. I would have expected him to complain about unfairness of it all.

But as soon as he gets the wand back from Lucius, the Golden Boy sends a spell at Father without warning and then another. Father dodges, throws up a shield and answers Potter with the same.

However, when he disarms Potter again, Father looks almost amused. I have to admit, that Potter is a fairly good dueller. Or at least an entertaining one – he compensates lack of skill with enthusiasm.

They are at it for more than half an hour. It's long enough for intense duelling. I can see sheen of sweat on Father's forehead.

Potter looks even more flustered. Some of his dark brown hair is plastered to his forehead, other strands are sticking out in all the directions, and his cheeks are so red that it looks as if two roses have bloomed just below his cheekbones. He is kneeling in the grass, breathing hard.

The oversized t-shirt has slipped off one of his shoulders. If it was anyone else, but Potter, I would have suspected him of purposely showing off some skin…

But, come on, this is Potter. And whom would he be trying to impress anyway? My Father? Don't make me laugh.

Then Lucius walks towards Potter. He stops a step from the Golden Boy. Looks down at him.

Yes, this is what I have been waiting for. Potter on his knees in front of a Malfoy…

Father's expression is completely unreadable. Blank.

Potter is looking at Father with strange kind of intensity in those unbelievable eyes, his head thrown back.

Then Lucius conjures a glass of water and brings it to Potter's lips. Potter opens up, and obediently gulps down the cool liquid.

"You did very well, Mr. Potter," father says and while his face is blank as if it was carved in marble, his eyes are intense and consuming and…

I… I suddenly desperately want to be somewhere else. As fast as my legs can carry me, preferably.

I wish there were not wards around the Manor and I could apparate.

No. No. No. No. No!

I refuse; I… wish I had not seen what I saw.

I do not understand, but one thing I am sure of is that what I witnessed was wrong. Very, very wrong.

For about three days, I am avoiding Father and Potter. I guess I am trying 'away from eyes, out of heart' or in this case – out of mind - approach. But it is not working very well.

I ran into Lupin, who can tell right away that something is wrong with me and gives me, a 'if you need someone to talk to…' speech. I appreciate it, really, but this is just too personal… I can't believe I don't simply tell him to keep his nose out of my business… but…

But in a couple of days, I manage to calm down and think about everything rationally. I suppose my imagination has been running wild. Because it is just… unbelievable. Laughable. If I told Father what I have been thinking he would have laughed!

Father does laugh sometimes. Most wizards would not believe it, but he does. Not in front of strangers, of course. But Father has very nice laugh. Deep and throaty. His face relaxes and he looks very young and handsome and not fear inspiring at all. That's why he doesn't laugh that often.

But, anyway, when I think about everything rationally, it becomes obvious to me that I have been seeing things that are really not there. Besides, I am sure, that whatever father is doing, is according his plan.

Whatever Father's plan is – I don't like it.

Not that father is the one I am worried about. Oh, no, no… my poor unsuspecting Father, I am afraid that he has no idea, what he had gotten himself into.

I can't believe that I am really saying this, but I suspect that Harry, I am holier than thou, Potter is the most carnivorous shark around here. And the fact that he is pretending to be a little, harmless golden fishy just makes it all worse.

We have dinner together every night in the main dinning room. I can't hear enough from some of our ancestors. All that human whatnot at our table… of course they are upset. Except grand-uncle Bonifatius who won't stop leering at that slut Ginerva and rambling about hot, temperamental redheads. Yuck.

He would be already hanging in the attic if the Weasleys were not even more disturbed by his ode's to freckled asses than I. Purple is not really your colour Ronald, but if you insist – I want to say. But I don't really have to. A look in his direction is enough. He knows that I know, he's angry and finding it delightful.

Letting them admire our dining room is another chance to rub it in that we Malfoys are superior and to show off our china. It is amusing to watch Weasel trying to figure out which fork to use for the fish or is that on his plate fish at all. Or maybe it's some part of something's body he would never want to touch, not to mention putting in his plebeian mouth.

However, the novelty of it wears of very fast.

As always, Potter takes fun out of everything. Who would have thought that poor table manners could be turned into an asset?

Dessert. My favourite part of every meal. Up until I see Potter making love to the spoon while consuming Crème Brule. He is lapping it like a kitten would fresh milk, the tip of pink tongue emerging and disappearing between his lips, with each mouthful his expression shifting from childishly delightful to outright post orgasmic.

And… and… (I really do want to deny this, but it's impossible) and Father is watching said tip of the tongue.

Then Potter's eyes snap open: "Erm, sorry… I just don't think I have ever had anything this good." He apologises with a quick glance in Lucius' direction. Too quick for anyone to notice unless they've been looking for it.

Ha! And I don't think that I have never seen an act this good. I would have congratulated him, if the one who was being played, was not my Father.

I give him my nastiest 'I am going to rip that little, pink tongue out of your mouth' glare. He answers me with an innocent 'who, I?' widening of eyes and a little smirk.

No one else notices anything, of course. Father is too busy with not looking at Potter. As if that would prove that, he was not watching the dessert sex a minute ago. And everyone else is too busy being appalled about the 'poor boy's' terrible muggle relatives who didn't have decency to feed him properly.

I want to throw my dessert at the damned… or to propose Father to go on a muggle-hunt. Why not, if he's suddenly so sorry about the awful life of the poor fucking orphaned Potter!

I don't think there is any chocolate left anywhere in the manor. Well, Professor Lupin might have a private stash… but with the rest, I have done away and am feeling marginally better. On the other hand, maybe not.

I can't put it off any longer. I have to talk to Father.

I am about to walk into the library, when I feel something clatter on the floor. I stop and draw back. Then I peer around the corner. It's Father. And Potter.

The little cretin has apparently dropped his wand: "Oh, this is just… I hate being so clumsy…"

Poor thing, my heart is bleeding for him.

Potter goes down on his hands and knees and pushes his arm under the settee. Of course, the little bastard can't reach the wand which means his hand has to go further under the sofa, his shoulders have to go lower, closer to the floor and his bottom-- his bottom must stick up and out!

And Father… Father is looking once again. It's dreadful, because now, when no one can see him, Lucius is staring at Potter's jean-clad butt as if it was the Philosopher's Stone or something.

Oh, Merlin, I can't believe he's falling for this! The little slut, waggling his ass like that! He's so damn obvious! The trick with dropping something, it's so fucking old!

But if someone can get away with it, then it's the 'sweet and innocent' Harry Potter. Innocent, if you don't catch the calculating look on his face! I want to storm into the library and put Potter back into his place. I want to open Father's eyes… but I am not stupid like that. I have to be subtle, and to make sure that whatever I say is not harming me.

It is of no use. Whatever material Potter is made of, my snide remarks and pointed glares are not sticking to it.

Merlin, and I thought I hated him. No. That was nowhere near, what I am feeling right now.

Day after day, I have been trying to expose Potter as the little manipulative slut he is with zero success. No one is taking any notice. When I insinuate that Potter and my father have been awfully close lately to Weasel, he just gives me a weird look and rumbles something about me loosing my mind out of boredom.

Hey! It's not my fault that Father is not allowing me to do anything important about the War, because I am his only heir! We are not Weasleys and don't have six sons to spare.

Then I go to Granger. After all, it's no surprise that Weasley is oblivious to what has been happening right under his nose. He is dumber than a flobberworm.

Talking to Granger is a huge mistake. A mistake of enormous proportion. I wish I could obliviate myself and forget the wicked smirk she gives me when I have finished talking. I think that deep down she is one very, very sick person. No wonder that even house elves are hiding from her.

Then there is Lupin, but I dismiss that idea right away; the man is innocent like a Hufflepuff, besides, what would he do? I can't imagine someone who is less judgmental and meddling around here.

Fuck! Will I have to resort to poisoning to get rid of Potter?

I have been trying to drop hints about Potter's innocent act to Father, to let him know that I think the boy-hero is full of shit (without saying 'shit' of course, father wouldn't have appreciated that).

It is a matter of time, before he takes notice. Not in the way, I want though.

"Draco," the stern, impatient 'Draco' startles and interrupts me mid-rant. Father pinches the bridge of his nose. It is a very, very bad sign. I don't even have to hear what he has to say to know that he has lost patience with me. I have buggered it up.

But father is not aware that I know him that well, so he continues with what he has to say: "Your rivalry with Harry Potter is childish and fatuous. Don't you think there are more important issues we should concern ourselves with? You should also consider Potter's status in the Wizarding world after we have won this war. Think Draco."

With that, I am dismissed and forbidden to speak of the matter again.

There goes my only plan.

All that I can do now is to watch Potter getting closer and closer to my father.

But it's disgusting. It's sick, it's horrible. I can't stand it anymore.

I have had enough. There is one thing I can still do – to confront Potter. If the Golden Boy is not as innocent as he looks, he might not be as brave either, right?

I grab him by the arm when he is walking down the corridor and pull into an empty room.

The bastard's good; Potter has his wand out and pressed into the hollow of my neck the moment the door clicks shut behind us. Then he sees it's I and lowers his wand. I am trying very hard not to be offended.

"Ah, Draco," since when we are on the first name basis! "If you wanted to talk, you should have just told so, you know? I could have hexed you."

"Father wouldn't have been happy with you then, would he?"

"Yes, Lucius… actually… listen, Malfoy… I can understand… I mean… You should be grateful, Draco, you have a very good father. I was so bind when I couldn't see that. I thought he was a right bastard, you know. Evil and everything. But the fact that he has not hexed you so far tells me something. It turns out that he cares quite a lot for his family and would do anything for you. Legal and illegal. He just doesn't care for others much. It's not that bad… of course, depends on which side you are on…"

"Keep a way from my father!" Sod my carefully prepared speech! I am too angry to remember it.

Potter leans against the wall with sigh worthy of a martyr: "As I told you, I can sympathise. But, God, Malfoy, it's time for you to grow up. You can't stay your daddy's little boy forever. You should find someone else to focus on."

"You… you!" It's pathetic; I realise, but… bloody buggering hell!

Potter's expression grows serious and the calculating, cold gleam I have seen in his eyes once or twice is switched on and at full blast: "I am sorry, Draco, but I want it, someone strong and beautiful, someone who would spoil me and who would love me and me alone… at least in some ways… don't worry, it's not that I am trying to get Lucius to adopt me. I am not trying to take your place, Malfoy. But you will have to learn to share. Between to of us, it won't be so bad. You have been lucky to have him for yourself for so long anyway. You've been spoiled."

He dares to look at me with something akin to pity!

"But, mother…"

"Please, don't. You know very well, that she's not an issue. Honest, Draco, you have chosen the worst time for us to have this little heart to heart. Has no one told you? We are going to war tomorrow. I am not sure how much time I have to waste. So, I would like not to. Waste it, I mean. Wouldn't want to die a virgin, you know? Erm, you probably didn't want to know that, but… you should start getting used to the idea, Draco," he winks at me before ducking out of the room.

He winks at me!

It's a dream, it's a bad, a very bad dream, a nightmare… this is not happening.

I need to know. I need to know what's going on if Potter was telling the truth and I can't go and ask Father (don't think about that). The house is full of people I don't want to talk to… Severus… Severus is never in the mood, damn cranky bastard…

Lupin, then I remember Lupin, always kind, reasonable Remus Lupin.

I even know where I might find him.

I call a house elf and order to take some chocolate truffle to the second library.

I am not surprised when all ends well. Between Potter's luck, my father's determination and Dumbledore's lunacy… You-Know-Who didn't have a chance. I was not happy to stay at home, but my father wouldn't hear of me endangering my life.

So it was me and the she-Weasel waiting for the battle to end and trying to not to rip off each other's head. Not an easy task, considering that she's the greatest bitch I've ever met… Anyway… It all ends relatively well. There are losses, but Potter offs the Dark Lord, well, actually the Dark Lord offs Potter and somehow it… it's not like there is anyone who doesn't know already. The story is plastered all over 'The Prophet' and I can bet someone is already writing a book…

But, Merlin, I am so relieved that Father has come back alive that for a moment I manage to forget that he will probably be celebrating with Potter in his bed.

A week later, everyone is still celebrating. In fact, there is going to be a huge ball here, at Malfoy Manor, tonight.

Father wants to speak to me.

"How are you, my son?"

"I am fine,"

"I am glad to hear that,"

I am disappointed when Father apparently makes nothing of my terseness. Or maybe he just isn't going to indulge me. I never know.

"I am proud of you son," he says. "I know that it has been hard for you, but you have proved yourself worthy of our name."

"Yes, Father," he can't imagine how bloody hard it has been.

"Narcissa has decided to visit her friends in France. Soirees and shopping... well, you know…"

Oh, yes, I know very well that my parents have always had separate interests and separate lives. Of course, they will never divorce, but this means that mother will be moving out of the manor and Potter will be moving in. I get it.

It makes me furious that she doesn't even mind. As long as she has enough money to squander, she's happy. And it's not like she doesn't have lovers of her own. Like she has ever truly needed a secretary, a good-looking, young male secretary. Don't make me laugh!

But, fuck, is it so wrong to wish my parents cared for each other?

"Are you looking forward to your final year of school?"

"Yes, I am,"

"Hm, that's good; I hope you will keep making me proud,"

I nod. Sure, I will keep making him proud, after all, it doesn't matter that I am angry with Lucius right now, he's still my father and I love him. And academics are almost the only thing in which I will ever beat Potter.

That sodding father-stealing little slut.

Why couldn't he leave us alone?

He has changed everything that matters – my world, my family and my father.

Lucius looks strange. Of course not strange like Mad Eye Moody or that crazy bat Trelawnwey. He is just different. He talks strangely, more than usually. He moves strangely. I know that Potter has done something to him. I just know it. I can't quite put a finger on it. It's not that there he is… well, different, but it's impossible to pinpoint what exactly has changed about him. His eyes, they are brighter than ever before…

Then I realise something.

He's happy. For the first time in his life, Lucius Malfoy is happy.

It hurts. Damn, but it hurts like Hell to realise that Potter has managed to bring my Father the kind of happiness I have never been able to give him.

In my mind, I understand, but still it hurts pretty badly.

I get up. I have to leave before I say something I will regret later or Heaven forbid, start crying.

"May I be excused, Father,"

He gets up, smiles at me, puts his hands on my shoulders and… kisses my forehead. That's something… something that has never happened since I was, what, maybe five years old?

I guess it's… kind of nice…

"Go, have fun, Draco. I assume you are eager to celebrate with your friends, now, when everything is over."

No matter, how grown up I am going to be about all of it, I can't get over the 'Why Potter?!' Couldn't Father have chosen someone else? I realise that I can't begrudge him happiness, but anyone, I mean, anyone, would have been preferable to Harry bloody Potter.

Besides, it is not Father, who chose the Golden Boy. Maybe he thinks that he did, but I know better. Lucius was seduced blatantly, shamelessly by using textbook tactics. I wonder if it was mudbood who planned this out. After all it's no secret that the Golden Trio share one brain among them and it's Granger's.

Not that Father ever noticed anything off … the huge, brilliant green, innocent eyes worked better than confundus. Fuck, but Millicent was right – men are stupid and think with their…

I think I have right to be angry with Lucius for falling in the trap so easily. But, I guess, love has made fools of much greater men than my father.

But I want revenge. I am going to get revenge.

'If you ever need someone to talk to…' I know that the smirk on my face would probably scare our house elves into begging Father for clothes.

Isn't that exactly what I need right now? Someone sympathetic? Besides, Remus Lupin has always had very calming effect on me. He is also an attractive man – I have always liked older men. And our shared passion for chocolate… mhm… me, Lupin, shocolate… just imagine the possibilities there.

Well, he is poor, but I have loads of money, don't I? He is a werewolf. But since Lucius has been very chummy with half-breeds and mud-bloods lately, surely he wouldn't mind if I got to know his lover's dear friend a bit better?

Potter has taken something from me. Now it is time to take something from him and to prove that he's not the only one who can do some scheming.

We are going to be one big, happy family.

Fin

A/N: Be so kind and review!

I don't think I can write a LM/HP story without involving Draco. :P