They Shook Hands: Year Two (Original Version)

They Shook Hands : Year Two

An alternate (but realistic!) universe Harry Potter fic
by Dethryl

Chapter Two - Malfoy Manor

Harry awoke as the sunlight beamed through the open window, illuminating the whole guest room. It reminded him a lot of mornings in the Slytherin dungeons. If one didn't have the green velvet curtains drawn around the four poster bed, the sun would shine on your face as it rose over the lake, just as the sun was doing to Harry now. He yawned and stretched. The bed was so very comfy, he thought sleepily.

And he could stay in bed. Harry reveled in the thought. He didn't have to get out of bed unless he wanted to. There were no Dursleys to pound on his door and insist that he get up to cook breakfast. Maybe he could even have breakfast in bed. Rich people did that, he knew, and the Malfoys were certainly rich. In the wizarding world, he was rich too. Perhaps that Dobby creature would bring up a tray. Elan had told him that house elves were servants.

Despite the early morning light, Harry dozed off again. The sun rose higher in the sky, and the birds began to chirp outside, boasting about their eggs, glorifying in the clear skies. When Draco shook him awake again, he yawned wide enough to drive a lorry through.

"Good morning, Harry," Draco said cheerfully.

"Morning," he replied thickly. His mouth felt icky. He needed to brush his teeth.

"Did you sleep well?" Draco went to the window and opened it even further. The morning breeze rustled the draperies, carrying the scent of wild grass.

"More or less," Harry replied, yawning again.

"Weather looks to be nice today," Draco noted. "We should have some good flying for the Quidditch game."

"Quidditch?" Harry perked up. He loved playing Quidditch. He threw back the covers and got to his feet.

Draco nodded. "There's a full pitch out back. We'll make a fire call to the others after breakfast. I know they're all going to be relieved to know you're okay."

Harry nodded as well. "I can't wait to see everyone. I've missed them." He frowned. "I don't understand why no one has sent me any letters. Not even a birthday card."

"Oi, did I wish you happy birthday yesterday?" Draco asked.

Harry's brow wrinkled as he thought about it. "I don't remember."

"Well happy birthday, Harry," Draco wished him. He frowned as well. "But that is strange that you didn't get my card. I sent it first thing in the morning."

"It's a mystery," Harry agreed.

"Indeed. So, ready to go down for breakfast?"

"In a minute," Harry said, rummaging in his trunk and pulling out his toothbrush and some clothes. Draco showed him to the water closet, and after a few minutes, Harry felt much more human.

"Food," he said, listening to his rumbling stomach.

Draco laughed. "You sound like Goyle."

"Goyle's a smart person," Harry said.

Draco laughed even harder. He led the way down the stairs, across the foyer, into the east wing of the manor, and finally into the dining room. By day, the manor seemed open and airy. The walls were of a finely carved wood and radiated an inner warmth.

Elan joined them a few minutes later as several house elves began carrying in trays of hot food. Harry dug in deeply after watching Draco and Elan pile their own plates.

"Sleep well, Harry?" Elan inquired around a mouthful of toast.

Harry nodded. "You?"

"Very well, thank you." Elan offered Harry the platter of bacon.

"Quidditch?" Draco asked his older brother.

"I suppose I could have a pass or two," Elan considered. "But you know I much prefer to watch Quidditch."

"Last time you supposedly watched us play, you were snogging with Jamie," Draco teased.

Elan took a sip of orange juice. "You and Blaise could play the same game if you wanted to," he threw back. "It would be almost the same thing."

"Eew," Draco said, fake-shuddering.

"Good morning, boys," came a pleasant, urbane voice from the doorway.

"Morning, Father," Elan and Draco chorused.

Lucius Malfoy sat down at the head of the table. He was wearing a button-up silver shirt and black trousers under an open wizard's robe, also black. He reached for the eggs and met Harry's eyes.

"I say," he said, "you're not one of mine." He smiled then. "Good morning, Harry. I trust you slept well?"

"Yes, sir," Harry said. Mr. Malfoy didn't seem to be very fazed, which in itself surprised Harry.

"I suppose my sons snuck out last night and took a trip to Surrey, did they?" he asked, buttering some toast.

Draco didn't answer, as his mouth was currently full, but Elan nodded. "Neither Draco nor I had gotten a letter from Harry all summer, Father. We feared the Muggles might be mistreating him."

Mr. Malfoy's lip curled. "Don't mention Muggles at the table, Elan."

"Sorry."

"Well, you're certainly welcome here, Harry," Mr. Malfoy said. "My home is yours."

"Thank you, sir," Harry said. "I'm glad to be here."

Two owls soared into the dining room at that moment, dropping copies of the Daily Prophet on the table, one in front of Harry, and the other in front of Mr. Malfoy. Harry shoved his to one side and continued eating his breakfast. He was having bacon and sausage.

Abruptly, Mr. Malfoy slammed his hands flat on the table. He rose to his feet, staring down at the newspaper. Then his head snapped up, and his grey eyes were cold as he glared at his sons.

"You idiots," he hissed at them.

"Father?" Draco asked, startled.

"What, in Merlin's name, possessed you to pull such a stupid, ill-conceived stunt as that?" Mr. Malfoy shouted.

Elan opened Harry's copy of the paper. Harry caught a glimpse of the headline: Death Eaters Abduct Harry Potter! Elan paled considerably and gulped.

"Black robes? White masks? Were you trying to get yourselves sent to Azkaban?" Mr. Malfoy's face was twisted in a snarl. "Did you have a sudden urge to go visit your aunt?"

"I am not like Aunt Bella!" Elan said hotly.

"We- we-" Draco was fumbling, the first time Harry had ever seen him without the right words to say.

"Your little stunt was certainly insane enough for her to have thought it up," Mr. Malfoy sneered. "Reckless, thoughtless, and downright foolhardy! I thought I raised you better than that!"

"If we had merely knocked at the door, those Muggles wouldn't have taken us seriously, Father," Elan said in forced civil tones. "You saw them at the station. And they also saw us at the station. They know I'm a student. They would know I couldn't use magic during the holiday. I had to frighten them. I had to make them fear us."

"Oh that part was certainly achieved," Mr. Malfoy sneered. "I've no doubt the worthless Muggle soiled himself. You miserable fool, are you really so empty-headed that you think Albus Dumbledore would not have eyes watching over Harry Potter at all times? I've been making inquiries with the various offices of the Ministry, trying to get Harry removed, but those Muggles are his legal guardians, even in our world." Mr. Malfoy had clenched his fists now. His right hand was very close to his wand, and Harry could see his fingers twitching. "I am absolutely disgusted! There are right and wrong ways to go about this, Elan, and you most definitely chose the stupid way! It's a high crime to have been a Death Eater. Do you have any idea of the danger you've put this family in? How could you be so completely brainless?"

"Father, we-"

"Silence, Elan!" Mr. Malfoy snapped. "You're the eldest. You're supposed to have some form of grey matter between your ears. Instead I discover that your head is filled with marmalade! Little did I realize that when you lost your heart, you lost your head as well!"

Elan turned bright red. His mouth was partly open, but no words were coming out.

Mr. Malfoy looked nearly as angry as Uncle Vernon sometimes did. His face hadn't gotten red, but he was very pale. His lips were bloodless from being pressed together. "You are both in more trouble than you have any conception of. Rooms! Now! Move!"

Draco and Elan ran out of the room as fast as possible. Mr. Malfoy took a deep breath and unclenched his hands.

"Now of course I don't blame you, Harry," he said in a strained voice. He took another deep breath. "It's not your fault that my sons are completely blithering idiots. Feel free to roam anywhere in the manor. I'd show you around myself, but I have some damage control to see to. Please excuse me."

When Mr. Malfoy left the room, Harry didn't quite know what to do. Everything had happened so fast that his head was spinning. He picked up his copy of the paper and began to read:

The article gave more questions than it answered. What were Death Eaters? The name sounded horrible, but it was familiar to Harry. It was one of the Slytherin rules, he remembered. "'Slytherin does not mean junior Death Eater,'" he said to himself. "But what is a Death Eater?"

Regardless of what it was, the story was absolutely untrue. He hadn't been abducted; he'd been rescued. He'd gone willingly. Mr. Malfoy knew it was completely untrue as well. That must have been what he meant by damage control. Obviously being a Death Eater wasn't a good thing.

There had to be some way he could help set things right. Harry resumed eating his breakfast, doing what Goyle would have done in his place. He wouldn't get anything accomplished on an empty stomach. And the food was good. He drank the last of his milk and left the dining room. Exploring on his own didn't sound like much fun. He'd rather spend some time catching up with his friends. Harry made his way upstairs and knocked on Draco's door.

"Draco?" he called. "Can I come in?"

His best friend opened the door. "Hello, Harry."

Harry stepped inside. The room was very similar to Elan's bedroom, with bookshelves, tapestries, and posters adorning the walls. Draco's posters were of the Montrose Magpies rather than the Appleby Arrows. Draco threw himself on his bed.

"Sorry about breakfast," he said. "That was fairly ugly, and you shouldn't have had to see it."

"What was it all about?" Harry asked. He gave his friend a direct look. "House rule seven says that Slytherin doesn't mean junior Death Eater. What's a Death Eater?"

Draco didn't answer immediately. "Death Eaters are what You-Know-Who's followers were called," he finally said. "And ashamed as I am to say it, you deserve to know that my father used to be one of them."

Harry felt his world stagger a bit. "What?" he exclaimed in a stunned voice.

Draco wouldn't look at him. "It's true," he said quietly. "When he was younger, my father joined the ranks of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. He agreed with a lot of the things You-Know-Who was saying. Muggles and Muggleborns are inferior, purity of blood is supreme, and all that. At first it was alright, but then things started to change."

"The deeper he got into the Dark magic, the more it ate away at his mind," Elan said from the doorway. "He started abusing his own followers, casting horrible curses on them and so on. By the time You-Know-Who actually killed one of his Death Eaters, Father knew he'd made a terrible mistake."

"If Father finds you not in your room, there'll be hell to pay," Draco warned his older brother.

Elan shrugged. "I'm in about as much hot water as it's possible to be in," he said. "Besides, Harry deserves to know what's going on.

"By that time, of course, it was too late," he continued. "One did not just quit the service of the most powerful Dark wizard the modern world has ever seen. Disloyalty was rewarded with death."

Harry couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Those evil wizards killed my family," he sputtered. "Now you tell me that your father was one of the gang?"

"No!" Elan exclaimed, grabbing hold of Harry's arm. He leaned in close. "Harry, listen to me. The night V-Voldemort went after you and your parents, he was alone. None of the Death Eaters were with him. They played no part in your parents' deaths."

Harry didn't listen and jerked his arm away. "And you pretended to be my friends?"

Elan narrowed his eyes. "We are your friends, Harry. If we were like You-Know-Who and wanted you dead, don't you think we'd have killed you long before now? Father made a mistake. He's not perfect. He can hardly be held accountable because You-Know-Who went insane. That part of his life is over. Didn't you hear him at breakfast? He said that his home is yours. Is that what you say to someone you want to kill?"

Harry felt his anger faltering. "I- I don't know."

"Search your feelings, Harry. You know what I'm saying is true. Father told me very specifically last Christmas that he is grateful to you for freeing him from his servitude. He wouldn't wish You-Know-Who back for anything."

Harry sat down in the chair with a thump. Everything was happening so fast. It was too much to take in all at once. He looked up and saw Elan's face full of sincerity. He looked over and saw Draco looking away, too ashamed of the secret he'd told to even face in Harry's direction.

With his knees shaking, Harry got to his feet and stepped towards the door. "I need some air," he croaked, as he hurried from the room.

In the corridor, he leaned aginst the wall. He took a deep breath. He started walking. Wandering the manor gave Harry plenty of time to think. Round and round in his head he kept hearing the conversation over and over again. But he couldn't settle it one way or the other. Had he really gone along willingly with Death Eaters? He decided he would have to talk directly to Lucius Malfoy.

Harry ducked into the guest room where he'd spent the night and got his wand out of the trunk. He wasn't supposed to use magic during the holiday, but for some reason he wanted the comforting feel of the wand sheath on his belt. Harry felt much better just holding this symbol of wizardry. The holly wood felt warm to the touch.

He went downstairs back into the dining room. Mrs. Malfoy was just sitting down at the table, and she looked as though she'd been crying. "Good morning, Harry," she said in a voice so cheery that Harry knew it had to be fake.

"Good morning, ma'am," he replied. "I was looking for Mister Malfoy."

"He should be in his office," she said. "He's probably making a fire call to the solicitor. I'm afraid the boys really twisted things up this time." She bit back a sniffle.

"I don't really understand what's going on, but the newspaper article is all wrong," Harry told her. "I just need to get the truth out. Nobody abducted me. All I really need to do is make a public statement denying the article, and it should all blow over. You all seem to know a lot of people. Do you know any reporters?"

Mrs. Malfoy nodded slowly. "As it happens, we do. That might just do the trick," she said, sounding a bit more hopeful. "Come, let's go find Lucius."

Harry followed her up to the second floor and down the corridor. In the place he reckoned was directly above the master bedroom on the first floor, she stopped. The door to the office was closed, but Mrs. Malfoy just walked right in. Harry trailed behind her. Lucius Malfoy was sitting at his desk with his head in his hands, muttering to himself.

"Lucius, Harry would like to talk to you. He has an idea you should listen to. It might just keep the boys out of Azkaban," she said, her voice breaking. She turned and left, closing the door behind her.

Mr. Malfoy looked up at Harry and put a forced smile on his face. "Yes, Harry? What is your idea?"

Harry drew up all his courage and looked the older man full in the eye. "Were you there the night my parents were murdered?" he asked coldly, cutting right to the heart of the matter.

Mr. Malfoy's eyes widened in astonishment, then narrowed in displeasure. Then they relaxed, and he leaned back in his chair. "Those boys need to learn to keep their mouths shut," he muttered. He took a sip from the glass of water on his desk.

"No, Harry. I give you my word, as both a Slytherin and a Malfoy, that I was not in Godric's Hollow on the night your parents were murdered," he said seriously. "The Dark Lord told us only that he had personal business to attend to and that he would summon us later that night. We never saw him alive again."

Mr. Malfoy rose to his feet and looked out over the courtyard. "I have many regrets about that period in my life," he said. "There are many times when I've wished that I had been stronger, that I'd had the courage to stand up against him. If just my own life had been at stake, I probably would have," he sighed, taking another drink. "But I had a wife and son to think about. Given the choice between killing Mudbloods and Muggles and losing my own family, it was really no choice at all. And then Draco was born, and I had even more reason to fear."

He turned around and looked at Harry. "But you freed me from that life, Harry. No one knows why Voldemort's powers were undone that night. But they were. And ever since, those of us who made the mistake of accepting his mark have been able to live without fear. Thank you. Know that I am forever in your debt."

Harry let the last of his anger evaporate. When he had defeated Voldemort, he had done more than what he was credited with and revered for by the whole of the wizarding world. He had also lifted the yoke of fear and terror from those who had no way out. Elan was right: They would never want to kill him.

"I think I know a way we can settle this situation," Harry said, changing the subject.

Mr. Malfoy's eyebrows lifted. "Oh? Well, let's hear it then."

"Missus Malfoy says you know a reporter?" Harry asked. "What if I just make a public statement to the effect that nobody kidnapped me, and there were no Death Eaters?"

The older man smiled genuinely. "Now why didn't I think of that?" he asked rhetorically. "As a matter of fact, I do know a reporter or two. But I think we can do better than a simple statement. How would you feel about a full-fledged interview?"

Harry thought about it. The idea of a full interview made him sort of nervous. "I won't answer any questions I don't want to."

Mr. Malfoy chuckled. "I'll make sure she doesn't ask any uncomfortable questions," he promised. "If you'll excuse me? I need to make a fireplace call."

Whatever that was, Harry thought it a mighty peculiar turn of phrase. He walked out of the office and turned back just in time to see Mr. Malfoy throw a handful of powder into the fireplace and stick his head into the flames before the door closed. His eyes wide, Harry shook his head and reflected that there was a lot he still didn't understand about the wizarding world.

Harry wandered down to the second floor to inform Draco and Elan of the new developments. He found them both still in Draco's room, and they were glad to see him again.

"Hullo," Elan said as he let Harry into the room. "I take it this means you've decided we don't want to murder you in your sleep."

Elan's attempt at a joke made Harry grin. "I think you're the type who would challenge me to a duel if you wanted to do me harm," he rejoindered.

He explained his idea and was gratified to see expressions of relief on both their faces. "That's truly inspired," Draco told him. "And Father should calm down quite a bit if it goes well."

"Are we going to get in touch with Tim and Blaise and the others?" Harry asked after a few moments of silence.

"No, I think I'd better stay right here in my room," Draco answered. "And Quidditch is probably out for today too.

"Draco's right," Elan said. "When Father's got his temper up, it's better to fly straight. But don't let us keep you from getting outside. If you want to go flying, that's no problem at all."

Not being able to play Quidditch was a bit of a disappointment, but there was always tomorrow. With his friends incarcerated, Harry had to make do with his own devices. First and foremost, he had to send off letters to his friends assuring them that he wasn't kidnapped. The morning paper was sure to cause them to worry. He sat down at the desk in his room and wrote out a long, personal letter to each of them. He had just finished up when there was a knock on his door. "Come in," he called.

"Harry, your idea was brilliant," Mr. Malfoy said by way of greeting. "My friend at the Daily Prophet is on her way over. She's most excited to be the one to talk with you." A bell chimed. "I do believe that will be her now," he smiled.

Mr. Malfoy led Harry down to the front entrance of the manor. He clapped his hands, and the wide, double doors swung open. On the front step was a blonde, curly-haired witch. She had a bit of a heavy jaw, but her jeweled spectacles drew attention away from that and emphasized her large blue eyes. Her fingers were thick and clutched a black leather handbag, but her nails were long and painted a brilliant pink.

"Harry Potter, meet Rita Skeeter."

to be continued...