Chapter Text
Draco’s parents understood that their son was a seer when he was three years old.
They were at the breakfast table and Narcissa asked her husband what his plans were for the day.
“I’m going into the Ministry,” he told her without looking up from the Prophet. “I have an appointment with the Minister.”
“But you can’t go,” Draco looked at him, his brow creased in worry, his fork halting on the way to his mouth.
Lucius raised his eyebrows at him. “And why is that?” he enquired.
“There’s going to be an accident,” he said, unblinking. “Something will blow up. You will be in danger.”
Both Narcissa and Lucius stared at Draco, puzzled.
“Why would you think that is going to happen, sweetheart?” Narcissa asked, brushing Draco’s fringe out of his eyes.
“Because I dreamt it,” Draco shrugged.
Lucius sighed. “It was just a nightmare, Draco,” he shook his head. “It wasn’t real.”
“But my dreams always come true,” Draco insisted. “And I know it is today.”
Narcissa looked at Lucius, still seeming puzzled. Lucius rolled his eyes and got to his feet.
“You’ve got nothing to worry about, Draco,” Lucius told his son. “I’ll be perfectly safe.”
When he left the kitchen, he heard his wife ask his son: “What do you mean, your dreams always come true?”
On his way to the Ministry, Lucius dropped by Flourish & Blotts to pick up a picture book explaining dreams and nightmares to children. He would make sure Narcissa read it with Draco.
When he arrived at the Ministry, though, everyone was in a frenzy.
“Spell accident on level two,” someone told Lucius when he enquired. “Two spells interacted and an office blew up. Nasty business.”
Lucius’ eyes widened. He clutched the book in his hand.
He turned around and went right back to the bookshop, giving the book back and instead buying a guide for parents of children that showed seer abilities at a young age.
“He says he has dreams all the time,” Narcissa whispered to him, watching as Draco chased after the peacocks on his toy broom, completely unaware of his parents’ alarm. “Some have already come to pass. Others, he has no idea what they mean but he thinks they will happen eventually.”
“What did he see?” Lucius asked. “Why did he never tell us?”
“I think he did, actually,” Narcissa shook her head. “We just didn’t listen. Do you remember when your father died?”
And Lucius did. Draco had woken them up with tears in his eyes, choking out: “Grandpa.”
When they had checked on Abraxas Malfoy in his room, he had died in his sleep. They had thought Draco had gone to his room and found him dead, but maybe, knowing what they knew now, he head dreamt about it happening and alerted them.
“Isn’t he scared?” Lucius asked. “I would be scared, if I were him.”
“I don’t think he knows any different,” Narcissa breathed. “I don’t think he realises why it would be scary to see the future. It seems normal to him.”
“His gift is so… precise, for someone so young,” Lucius shook his head. “How much more will he be able to see when he grows older?”
“I don’t know, Lucius,” Narcissa shook her head. “But I think we need to come to terms with the fact that Draco’s childhood will not be a normal one.”
And indeed, as Draco grew older, his vision kept impacting their family dramatically. Draco was increasingly plagued by nightmares and when they woke him, he would tell them about ‘a man like a snake’ living in their house who was hurting and killing people.
“It has to be the Dark Lord,” Lucius said, pacing. “He’s returning.”
“From what it sounds like, following him a second time will be putting our family at risk!” Narcissa hissed.
“At more risk than not following him?” Lucius snapped. “We know he doesn’t tolerate traitors!”
“If we make the right connections early-on, while Draco is still young, we might be protected!” Narcissa argued. “You saw Draco just now! Do you really want him to go through any of this? You know the future isn’t set in stone; that it can be changed! Let’s take Draco’s vision’s as a warning and get out while we can!”
And indeed, when they woke Draco up from a screaming nightmare next time, he told them that he’d been tortured by the ‘snake face’. “It hurt, Mummy,” he whimpered, curling into her embrace.
Narcissa looked at her husband pleadingly.
Lucius nodded.
The next morning, he set up a plan to make the right connections. His first owl went to Severus Snape.
“I keep dreaming of a boy,” Draco told them one morning when he was seven years old.
“A boy?” Narcissa asked. “What boy?”
“I don’t know his name,” Draco frowned. “But he had black hair and glasses and a scar like lightning, and he is very unhappy.”
Narcissa and Lucius’ eyes met. The tale of Harry Potter and his lightning scar had grown famous amongst wizardkind.
“What do you mean, he is unhappy?” Lucius asked.
“His family doesn’t treat him well,” Draco said. “He lives in a cupboard. They starve him. When his Hogwarts letters come, they won’t give them to him.”
Lucius stared at his son, mouth hanging slightly open.
“I dreamt last night that he is going to drop a plate today and will be locked in his cupboard for two days,” Draco frowned. He looked at his father pleadingly. “Can we find out who he is? Can we help him?”
Lucius gulped. “Let me see what I can do,” he said.
“The boy lives in a cupboard!” Lucius roared. “How can you sit by and let that happen?!”
Dumbledore’s lips were tight. “Believe me, I’m just as distressed about the situation as you are,” he said. “But there is an ancient magic tying him to his mother’s blood that protects him from -”
“From what exactly?!” Lucius demanded. “The Dark Lord is gone, at least for now! If he comes back, you can still worry about protection, but let him grow up somewhere he can have a happy childhood, for Salazar’s sake!”
“Did you just say ‘if he comes back’ ?” Dumbledore blinked, looking intrigued.
Lucius rolled his eyes. “My son is a seer, Dumbledore,” he snapped. “You really think the thought that he might hasn’t occurred to me yet?”
Dumbledore just looked at him for a long moment. Lucius looked at Severus for support.
“Say something!” he snapped. “You cared about his mother! You must care about the boy’s wellbeing!”
“Oh, I do,” Severus agreed. “But you’re making such a nice scene. I’ll leave the stage to you.”
Lucius huffed, crossing his arms.
“I have to say, I’m impressed, Lucius,” Dumbledore admitted. “Why are you suddenly so invested in Harry Potter’s life?”
Lucius grimaced. “Have your son tell you that he sees another child abused and ask you to help them,” he said. “Then maybe, you’ll understand.”
Dumbledore hummed. “So all of this, your recent change of heart - it’s for Draco?”
“Of course,” Lucius said, with complete sincerity. “Narcissa and I would do anything for Draco.” Dumbledore nodded, still watching him. “Are you going to remove Harry Potter from his surroundings or not?” he asked, with an edge to his voice. “Because if not, I’ll go straight to the Minister. I’m sure he’ll get involved if I tell him The Boy Who Lived is being starved.”
Dumbledore sighed, wringing his hands. “We need a safe place for him,” Dumbledore said. “Somewhere he can be protected from all harm.” He looked at Lucius for a long moment.
“What is it?” Lucius frowned.
“You do realise that Narcissa is related to Sirius Black, Harry’s godfather,” Dumbledore smiled. “We could easily give you legal custody, especially with you tipping us off about his circumstances.”
Lucius blanched. “You want him to live with us ?!” he asked, incredulous.
“The Manor, with all its ancient wards, is one of the safest places in Britain,” Dumbledore shrugged. “And add your son to that, with his seer ability, Harry should be well protected.”
Lucius pressed his lips into a thin line. He looked at Severus, whose lips had curled in wry amusement. “I want it noted,” he said, turning back to Dumbledore, “that this was not my intended outcome when I came here.”
“It is noted,” Dumbledore smiled. “Now shall we contact Cornelius and let him know of our decision?”
When Lucius arrived back at the Manor, he sank into his armchair in front of the fire in bone-deep exhaustion.
“How did it go?” Narcissa asked tentatively.
“Well,” Lucius said, staring into the flames. “We’re taking in Harry Potter.”
A beat of silence. “Right,” she said. “I’ll tell the house elves to prepare a room for him.”
Lucius accompanied Dumbledore and the Minister to the Dursleys’ house in Surrey to pick up Harry the next morning. When they rang the doorbell, a fat Muggle with a moustache opened the door. He studied them through narrowed eyes.
“We don’t buy anything,” he snarled, intending to close the door in their face, but Lucius waved his wand to open it fully, making Harry’s uncle stumble backwards in fear. Lucius smirked.
“Mr Dursley,” Dumbledore said politely. “I apologise the intrusion, but we’re here to pick up Harry.”
“Harry?” he gaped. “What do you mean, pick 'im up?”
“It means that, according to Paragraph 9A of the Child Protection Law of the Ministry, you’ve neglected your duty of care when it comes to your nephew. We are here to collect him and put him into safer surroundings.”
“I - how dare you!” he growled. “We’ve fed him and let him live here and given him clothes and -” then he broke off, his eyes widening. “Wait, you’re taking him off our hands?” He turned to shout down the hall. “Petunia, get the boy out of the cupboard, he’s leaving! His kind has come to pick him up!”
“What?” a female voice came from inside the house, sounding confused.
Lucius rolled his eyes and pushed past Harry’s uncle into the house. He soon found the cupboard under the stairs his son had described and pointed his wand at it.
“What are you doing?” A woman, who must be Harry’s aunt, shrieked from the doorway to what was probably the living room, but Lucius ignored her.
“Alohomora,” he said, and the door sprung open.
It was dark inside the cupboard. He bent to look inside. A thin boy was pressed against the wall furthest from Lucius, his arms slung around his knees, looking at him with wide, green eyes.
Lucius cast a ‘Lumos’ so he could see the boy better. He could see the green eyes widening in shock at the spell.
“Hello, Harry,” he said kindly. “I’m Lucius Malfoy. I’m here to take you away from these people. I promise you don’t have to live in a cupboard ever again.”
Harry just stared at him, speechless. Lucius reached out his hand.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” he promised. “I have a son your age. Draco. He is so looking forward to meeting you. Would you like to come and play with him?”
“Play with -?” Harry breathed, blinking. He stared at Lucius’ wand. “How did you do that?” he asked.
“I’m a wizard,” Lucius frowned. “Just like you.”
“I’m - what?” Harry stared.
Lucius’ anger at Harry’s relatives rose again but he pushed it down in front of Harry. “You have magic,” he explained. “Just like me.” To demonstrate, Lucius procured a butterfly out of golden light between them. Harry watched it in awe, mouth open. “I can teach you how to do that,” he smiled. “It’s an easy spell.”
“There must be a mistake,” Harry shook his head. “I’m not a -”
Tentatively, Lucius reached out to brush Harry’s messy hair from his forehead. The lightning scar was there, clear as day.
“Believe me, Harry,” he smiled. “There is no mistake.”
He dropped his hand again, holding it out palm-up for Harry to take. “Come on,” he said. “Don’t you want to get out of here? I would. This cupboard is so small, and frankly, your aunt and uncle seem horrible.”
Harry looked like he wanted to smile. He stared at Lucius’ hand for a long moment. Then, he took a deep breath and reached out to take it.
Lucius smiled.
“This is your house?!” Harry asked, his eyes wide as saucers as they walked up to the Manor. It made Lucius smirk.
“Yes, Harry,” he said. “So no more living in the cupboard. We have more than enough room for you. You could pick a room if you wanted.”
“I - are those white peacocks?” he asked, staring off into the distance.
Lucius laughed. “Yes,” he nodded. “They are, indeed.”
“How many people live here?” Harry asked in wonder.
“Just you, me, my wife and my son,” he said. “And the house elves.”
“The what?”
“The servants.”
“You have servants?!”
“Yes, Harry,” he chuckled.
“So that means I don’t have to cook?” Harry asked in a small voice.
Lucius’ smile faded. “No, Harry,” he promised. “You never have to cook again. Or do any other house chores.”
Harry bit his lip, looking like he didn’t quite know what to do with that. Lucius put a hand on his shoulder and they walked up the rest of the way in silence.
As soon as they stepped into the house, Draco was running towards them, a huge smile on his face.
“Harry!” he called, grasping his hands. “It’s so good to finally meet you in person! I’m Draco! We’re going to be the best of friends!”
“We are?” Harry blinked.
“Yes,” Draco nodded. “I saw it in my dreams.”
“In your -” Harry began, before looking up at Lucius for help.
“Draco can see the future in his dreams,” Narcissa explained with a smile as she walked down the stairs. “You will find that he often knows things before they happen. You will get used to it.”
“The future?” Harry breathed, sounding awed. Draco just shrugged.
“Hello, Harry,” Narcissa smiled warmly, walking up to him to touch his shoulder. “I’m Narcissa. Welcome to our home.”
“Thank you,” Harry muttered, blushing. He looked up again and asked, under his breath: “Is it really okay that I live here? I won’t be a bother?”
Narcissa’s face softened. “Of course not, dear,” she assured him. “We are happy to have you.”
Harry looked like that concept was foreign to him. It tore at Lucius’ heart.
“Draco,” he said. “Why don’t you show Harry the room across from yours and ask him if he wants to take it?”
“Okay,” Draco said brightly, tugging Harry along.
Narcissa came to stand next to Lucius, watching them leave.
“He’s traumatised,” Lucius shook his head. “The poor boy. What these Muggles did to him is horrific. How can you treat a child like that?”
“Well,” Narcissa sighed. “Looks like we have to do our best to let him know he’s loved and safe from now on. It won’t fix anything, but maybe we can try to heal what has been broken, at least.”
Lucius nodded. “We’ll have to,” he nodded. “He’s ours now.”
***
“This is all mine?” Harry asked, looking at the large room uncomprehendingly. It was surely bigger than both the Dursleys’ kitchen and dining room and living room combined. The bed looked soft and nice and he had his own writing desk and a shelf full of books. There was a trunk filled with toys. Harry could see a stuffed dragon sitting on the bed.
“Yes,” Draco nodded. “I mean, there are bigger rooms if you’d like, but this one is right across from mine. If you’d rather -”
“No,” Harry quickly shook his head. “This is perfect!” It was too much, actually. He was surely dreaming.
Draco smiled and walked to the bed. He picked up the dragon, and lovingly stroked its head before holding it out to Harry.
“This is Dreki. He used to be mine. My grandfather gave him to me. But I know you don’t have any toys, so I’m giving him to you.”
Harry shook his head vehemently. “I can’t take him!” he said. “He’s yours!”
“No, he’s yours now,” Draco smiled. “He can watch over you.”
Hesitantly, he took the dragon from Draco. He was so soft. Harry couldn’t help but smile.
“Thank you,” he whispered.
“You’re welcome,” Draco grinned. The other boy seemed to be buzzing with energy. “Come on,” he said. “I’ll show you the rest of the house.” And then, he took Harry’s hand and led him back down the hall.
People didn’t usually hold Harry’s hand, not like this. When Uncle Vernon or Aunt Petunia took it, they always dragged him along. It always hurt. Draco, though, connected their fingers in a way that felt really nice - warm and safe.
Their tour around the house took more than an hour, and Draco seemed to never stop talking. He showed him all the talking portraits of his ancestors, and the strange green plant men in the trees in the garden that Draco called “Bowtruckles”, and large rooms that Harry thought belonged in a royal palace and not in a private home, and the kitchen with all the ‘house elves’, eager to hand them sweets.
They explored and explored until finally, one of the house elves appeared in front of them out of thin air.
“Master Draco and Master Harry are to go to dinner” he told them.
“Thank you, Dobby,” Draco said.
“Dobby, working for Harry Potter,” the elf squeaked, bowing excitedly. “Such an honour!” And then, he disappeared again.
“Well, you already won over the house elves,” Draco smirked.
“I didn’t do anything,” Harry said defensively.
“I think you need to just exist, to be fair,” Draco shrugged, starting to walk down the corridor towards the dining room. Harry followed.
Lucius and Narcissa were already waiting for them when they arrived.
“Harry,” Narcissa smiled. “Did Draco show you the house?”
“Yes,” Harry nodded, sitting down. He noticed the table was laden with a feast. He stared for a moment before forcing himself to look back at Narcissa. “It’s a very beautiful house.”
“Thank you,” Narcissa chuckled. “I’m glad you like it. We want you to be happy here, after all. Do you like your room?”
“It’s so big,” Harry couldn’t help but say. “Are you sure it’s okay for me to take it?”
“Who else would we give it to?” Lucius shrugged. Harry didn’t have an answer to that.
“What is it, Harry?” Narcissa asked gently.
“Why are you taking me in?” he asked in a rush. “We aren’t related, are we? I thought my aunt and uncle were my only relatives.”
He watched as Narcissa and Lucius exchanged glances. “It’s true,” Narcissa said. “You don’t have any other blood relatives. But you do have a godfather.”
“A godfather?” Harry asked, his eyes widening.
“Yes,” Lucius nodded. “Your father’s best friend from school. Only they fell out during the war.”
“The war?” Harry frowned. “Which war?”
They both looked surprised and slightly uncomfortable. “The Wizarding War that was happening when you were born?” Narcissa said, as if that was supposed to mean anything to Harry. As if he’d known magic was real until a couple of hours ago. “The one where your parents were killed?”
That drew Harry up short. “My parents died in a car crash,” Harry clarified. “That’s how I got the scar.” He pointed to his forehead.
Lucius closed his eyes, looking deeply pained.
“No, dear,” Narcissa shook her head, looking very sad. “Your parents were killed by a very bad wizard. They died trying to protect you. That’s how you got that scar.”
Harry stared at her. He looked at Draco, who nodded in confirmation. Then he looked back at Narcissa and blurted out: “But - Aunt Petunia said -”
“Your aunt lied,” Lucius said flatly. “About so many things. I’m sorry, Harry.”
Harry just kept staring at them.
“You can ask every wizard in Britain,” Draco said helpfully. “Your story is famous. You’re The Boy Who Lived because Snake Face couldn’t kill you even when he tried.”
“Snake Face?” Harry asked weakly, looking back at Draco.
“He looks like a snake,” Draco shrugged.
“We’re getting off-topic,” Lucius sighed. “Fact is, Harry, your aunt lied to you. Your parents died protecting you. They were heroes.”
Harry’s heart was racing as that truth settled in. “So, are you my godfather?” he asked Lucius.
Lucius grimaced. “No,” he said kindly. “As my wife said, your father and your godfather had, you could say, a bit of a disagreement before the end of the war. Then, your godfather left and your father died.”
“Your godfather was my cousin, though,” Narcissa said kindly. “So when Draco started seeing what was happening to you, we were able to get legal custody for you.”
“What did you see?” Harry blinked, looking at Draco.
“That you were locked in a cupboard,” Draco shrugged. “That you didn’t have anything to eat.”
Harry flushed, feeling sick at the knowledge of others sharing in his humiliation. Narcissa reached out to brush his forehead gently.
“Don’t worry,” she breathed. “All of this is over now. You will never be treated like that again.”
“They had no right to do this to you,” Lucius said sternly. “I hope you realise that. It was not your fault. You didn’t deserve it.”
Harry didn’t say anything. He felt overwhelmed, and embarrassingly, he felt like crying.
“Let’s eat,” Narcissa said softly.
Harry nodded gratefully.
The food was the best he had ever eaten. He ate until he was almost sick with it, afraid it would be taken away from him again.
After dinner, Narcissa accompanied him up to his room and showed him his cupboard. It was filled with new, beautiful clothes.
“You can choose what to wear,” she smiled. “You don’t have to keep those old clothes if you don’t want them.” She crossed the room and opened another door. It led to a big bathroom with a bathtub. “You can wash up if you want. Take your time.”
She left him some privacy then, and Harry explored his room. He took a long bath, realising that the marbles in the bowl at the edge of the tub would fill the bath with different coloured bubbles if inserted into the water. The blue ones smelled like blueberries. The green ones like kiwi. The yellow ones like mango. The purple ones like plum.
He then dressed in a soft sweater and black trousers. The material was clearly expensive and fit him well. Harry thought it must be magic.
He went back to the bed and picked up Dreki. The toy dragon was dark red with golden trimmings and orange eyes. It was smiling at Harry. He hugged it to his chest, feeling his throat close up.
He didn’t know how long he stood there, just hugging the dragon, but when Draco found him, he didn’t even notice his presence at first.
“Hey,” he said quietly, making Harry twitch. “Are you okay?”
Harry nodded automatically, but he did not release the dragon from his death grip. Draco was silent for a moment and then, his arms came around Harry.
Harry’s breath hitched.
“I know all of this must be scary,” he said softly. “Mother always tells me it’s okay to cry if I need to.”
Harry blinked and then, the first tear escaped him. Draco held him tighter, a reassuring presence against his back.