Prerogative of Power

PREROGATIVE OF POWER

Chapter Two: In the Morning After

See black, see bloom
Died on an impulse over you
Caught like a corpse crawling round a dream and loving you
And she hangs on youth
Crushing any feet to fit the shoes
Stepping it out with a size 12 mouth and cursing you

Small town witch come to mess me up

Small town witch come to mess me up
Small town witch come to mess me up again

--Sneaker Pimps; Small Town Witch

"HARRY! How could you have done such a thing?" wailed Petunia.

Clad in a white linen shirt, leather breeches and black boots, Lord Harry James Potter glared down at his plate of half-finished breakfast. His unruly, jet-black hair contrasted sharply with his pale face. He felt physically ill, and no wonder--Draco Malfoy and his Death Eaters were staying in Gryffindor Castle.

Harry and Hagrid had reluctantly led Malfoy and his men to the castle--they were outnumbered, and they knew that it would be useless to fight them. Yet to Harry's immense relief, he hadn't had to talk to Malfoy. As the senior servant and steward when Harry's parents were away to fight alongside Dumbledore, Mad-Eye had met Malfoy and his followers at the castle entrance and led them inside.

Alastor 'Mad-Eye' Moody was sixty-eight. He wore an eye patch and he had a wooden right leg. When he was younger, his left eye was blinded and the Healers amputated his leg as it was hit by a powerful curse. Nevertheless, he stood proudly at the foot of the staircase and explained that the Lady Petunia and Lady Hermione were abed and could not be roused at such an hour. In truth, however, the ladies were awake. Harry's cousin, Hermione, waited boldly at the upstairs landing while beside her stood Aunt Petunia, trembling at Mad-Eye's defiance of their new Death Eater master. But Malfoy had merely ordered that they be given quarters as his eyes roamed around the castle, and lingered on the black cloth that replaced the Gryffindor flag of red and gold.

"I will meet the ladies in the morning," he decreed, his grey eyes shifting towards Harry. And, as if an afterthought, he murmured, "I'm sorry about your parents."

Harry could've killed him then.

Now morning had arrived, and Petunia was accusing Harry. "If it hadn't been for your heroics, they'd have missed us in the dark."

Lady Petunia Evans was a tall and thin woman with a constant sour face. She was unmarried and bitter, and she had always needled Harry and Hermione for every mistake they'd made since they were children. Harry supposed she was just envious of her younger sisters' blissful married lives.

"Those Death Eaters could've ridden past Gryffindor," she went on, nailing Harry with a disapproving gaze. "You should've known better, Harry."

"Shut up!" Harry snapped, glowering angrily at his aunt. He'd had enough. "I'm already aware of my fault, all right?"

Upon seeing that Petunia was about to start again, Hermione quickly intervened. "They would've found us eventually, Aunt Petunia," she said, ever the voice of reason. Harry sent her a grateful look. His cousin looked as if she hadn't had slept all night; she had dark circles under her warm brown eyes. "Besides, Hagrid had no idea how to free the unicorn--only Harry could've done it."

"And don't blame Hagrid," added Harry. "He wanted me to go back to the castle but I had to help the creature."

Petunia glared at her nephew. "You always have excuses whenever you do anything wrong. Your father and mother spoiled you abominably, boy." She huffed. "You always act before you think--it's unseemly."

"Well, I think Harry did a brave thing," protested Hermione. "And you didn't seem to think it was 'unseemly' when Harry went to Godric's Hollow and brought Uncle James' and Aunt Lily's bodies back home." She lifted her trembling chin. "That, too, was bravely done."

In the silence that enveloped the room, Harry heard the wind blew against the windows, and he imagined the same gush of air sweeping across the two fresh graves on the hill behind Gryffindor Castle.

"It wasn't bravery, Hermione," murmured Harry as he averted his gaze from her. "It was sheer desperation. I could feel their presence slowly fading away, and I just had to get them home, even for the last time..." He swallowed, remembering the crumbling remnant of the house where his parents had gone into hiding from Voldemort's wizard hunt.

Hermione whimpered quietly. "Oh, Harry."

"Voldemort drained their magic away, Hermione, and then he killed them--left them to rot. And, God, I was so foolish to think that was the end of it..." He let out a harsh laugh.

When Harry came back from that long and miserable journey, he had found the people of Gryffindor seething in rage and disbelief. A message had come from the land of Slytherin proclaiming that in view of the defeat of Lord James Potter, the joint lands of Gryffindor and Hangleton had become Voldemort's. It was also further stated that both properties had been given to his loyal Death Eater, Draco Malfoy.

Hermione leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes. "I hate this... I hate waiting for Malfoy to turn us out."

Harry banged his fist on the table. "There is no way I'm letting him do that!" He stood and started to pace. "Maybe I can go to Dumbledore and seek his help... maybe I can put together an army to reclaim Gryffindor..."

"Harry, Dumbledore has his own war to fight," Hermione quietly reminded him.

"Then what should I do? Do you think I should just sit here and wait for him to throw us out of our home?"

"You can't do anything," said Aunt Petunia in a defeated voice. "Gryffindor belongs to Draco Malfoy now. He can do as he likes." She turned to Harry again. "And you were lucky that he didn't kill you when he found you out."

Hermione gave him a look of curiosity, and Harry tensed. He didn't want to think about last night. When Harry had first seen him with his pale hair and those hooded grey eyes, he should've let Hagrid shoot the bastard with his crossbow. Instead, Harry asked him to help them.

Harry hadn't told anyone about that meeting in the forest, and he had sworn Hagrid to secrecy, yet the memory persisted to plague him. They had shook hands. They had worked together to break the enchantment, and Harry had been so pleased to meet another wizard near his age that he had actually begun to like Malfoy. He had even wanted to befriend the bastard.

A sharp knock suddenly echoed throughout the breakfast room. Petunia looked up in alarm. "Are they coming here?" she asked, anxious, just as Harry said, "Come in!"

The door swung open, but it was only Mad-Eye. "The man's requesting your presence in the study," he told Petunia grimly.

Harry's aunt looked ready to faint. "Tell him I haven't finished my breakfast," she pleaded.

"I already told him," Mad-Eye growled. "And he didn't react. He just repeated that he wanted to see you."

Visibly trembling, Petunia got up from her chair. "Very well," she muttered, trying to compose herself. Harry thought she was failing miserably.

As she left the room, Moody turned to Harry with a fierce look on his blue eye.

"You better be on your guard, my lord. That Malfoy boy is dangerous, probably as dangerous as his father was--maybe even more. And the man in black robes... always watch out for him," he warned. "Severus Snape. He's a great wizard; cunning as hell and great in Potion making." The old man shook his head. "Pity that he chose to side with Voldemort."

Harry nodded slowly, taking heed of everything Moody said. Beside him, Hermione tilted her head in one side. "Lucius Malfoy? But I thought his whole family had been killed a decade ago..."

"Aye, but only Lucius and his wife Narcissa had died. Apparently, their only son escaped."

Harry felt a momentary pang of pity, but he promptly shoved it aside. "Mad-Eye, what is Malfoy going to do about us?"

Mad-Eye Moody shrugged. "Make us leave, probably, but I cannot know for sure. He's a cool one, and I can't read what he's thinking."

Hermione bit her lip and pushed away from the table. "I lost my appetite. I'm going to my room."

"I'll come with you, Hermione," said Harry as he also stood and opened the door for his cousin. They walked down the oak-paneled hallway with Mad-Eye behind them, and as they reached the door of the study, they saw two of Malfoy's men guarding the door. One was tall, lean and dark-skinned, and then other was a wiry fellow with shrewd dark eyes. The dark-skinned one winked at Hermione.

"Pay no attention to them," Moody muttered.

As they reached the stairs, they heard Petunia cry out, "Preposterous! I could never permit such a thing!"

Hermione grasped Harry's arm. "Oh, Merlin. He meant to throw us out."

Harry felt anger stir inside him once more. Anger, but helplessness as well. Ignoring Malfoy's men, he stopped half-way up the stairs and looked around at the castle that was no longer his. He didn't look at the lavish stained-glass windows nor the rich tapestries and paintings that adorned the stone walls. Instead, his eyes rested on the soft bear-skin rug in front of the hearth. He remembered how often, as a child, he would play tickling matches with his parents on that rug.

"Harry, are you all right?" Hermione asked in a soft voice filled with understanding, and he remembered that Hermione would also lose the only home she'd ever had since her parents died.

"Now, my lord, you're not to let them see you in this state," Moody gruffly chastised.

Harry gave a half-hearted grin. "I know. I apologize, Mad-Eye."

Moody just grunted.

Below them, the study door opened and Petunia emerged. She was still pale and trembling. "Harry... Hermione." She faltered. "Please come. Now."

Hermione's grasp on his arm tightened almost painfully, and then she let go and nodded. Harry slowly released the breath he held. "Let's go, Hermione." Eyes straight ahead and ignoring the guards on the door, they walked down the stairs and went inside the study.

The room was full of shadows. The servants had drawn the study's heavy drapes on the day the bodies of their master and mistress were brought back to Gryffindor, and since then, no one had opened them. Even so, enough light filtered through the curtains to turn Draco Malfoy's hair into pale gold.

He was leaning on James' mahogany desk with his arms crossed on his chest. He wore a white shirt and black breeches underneath his cloak. His black boots tapped in a parody of impatience. His lips were slanted upwards, and the gleam in his grey eyes told Harry that the bastard was enjoying this. Behind him lurked Severus Snape in his black robes, staring at them with unreadable eyes.

Petunia was saying, "This is my niece," she gave Hermione a little push, "Lady Hermione Granger."

"My lady," murmured Malfoy as he straightened from his lazy pose and bowed with an easy grace. He kissed her proffered hand, and Harry noticed that Hermione was blushing. He really couldn't blame her--the bastard was certainly charming.

"And this is my nephew, Lord--"

"Harry Potter," Malfoy interrupted, turning those pale eyes on him. His smile had vanished. Good.

"Malfoy." Harry's nod was stiff, but he would not shake hands with the Death Eater again to save his life.

Malfoy gestured towards Snape. "This is my mentor, Lord Severus Snape," he introduced, and when they exchanged the perfunctory bows, Malfoy went back to his place earlier. "I now own Gryffindor and Hangleton," he started, fixing each of them with a steady gaze, "which, upon the death of Lord Peter Pettigrew, had become Lord James', and upon his death, had become mine."

God, how Harry want to hit that bastard's smug face. He was already regretting that he left his wand on his room.

"If you are hoping that Dumbledore will still win in this war against the Dark Lord, then I say you're delusional. Lord Voldemort is gaining more and more followers everyday," a quick glance at Harry, "and with every wizard he drains and kills, he grows more powerful."

"You're wrong, Malfoy," Harry declared through gritted teeth. "Dumbledore will win--he's stronger than Voldemort."

"For now, maybe," Malfoy conceded. "But enough of that. There is no war here in Gryffindor, and I want to assure you that very little will change for you. You will still continue to live here and oversee the people of Gryffindor as you have done during the absence of Lord James. Except now, of course, you'll only act as stewards."

"You'll let us stay here?" cried Petunia, and even though Malfoy rolled his eyes, he nodded his assent. Harry heard Hermione's sigh of relief, but Harry couldn't believe it. He had a sinking feeling that there would be more to this.

And as if Malfoy had read his mind, he said, "I haven't finished what I was going to say. You, mistress, and Lord Potter will stay. The lady Hermione will live with me in Hangleton. We'll get married first, naturally."

For a moment, they were all frozen silent. Then Hermione gave a hoarse cry. "No!"

"Like hell if you think I'm letting my cousin marry someone like you!" Harry snarled. He was feeling his magic swirling around him yet again, but when he tried to raise his arm, it didn't move. He couldn't move. Harry looked up, and saw Snape pointing his wand at him.

"That won't happen again, Potter." Malfoy's eyes narrowed. He was too close to Harry all of a sudden. "You better stop using your magic or I might be tempted to take you to Voldemort myself. And your cousin will either marry me, or I will throw all of you out." He abruptly beamed. "I'm sure you and your aunt will be excellent stewards."

"I won't go with you," Hermione protested, shaking her head in disbelief.

"It's all right, mon chéri, I know the distance between Gryffindor Castle and Hangleton is far, but we'll manage." He paused. "And if you're thinking of running away, please don't be foolish. There's nowhere you can go that my men will not find you. It would only be a waste of time and effort."

"I'll have you for this, Malfoy," Harry swore as he struggled with the curse.

White teeth flashed as Malfoy turned to Harry, looking him up from head to feet. "Why, Harry, is that an invitation?"

"Sir," Petunia mumbled. "Now that you've had you say, do we have your permission to leave?"

He bowed to her. "Of course, mistress. You have a great deal to do. I shall leave all the wedding arrangements to your capable hands. And tonight, I request the pleasure of your company at dinner. All of you." He gave Harry a significant look.

The bastard. The arrogant, condescending bastard. Harry shot him a look of pure loathing, but Malfoy just smirked and waved his wand to end the curse.

"Damn you to hell, Malfoy," Harry said at last, as he turned to leave with his cousin and aunt.

A sneer. "You wish."

To be continued...