Chapter Text
“Your omega son will do.”
Lucius, usually composed and restrained, struggled to keep his venomous disdain in check. Although he managed to temper his tone out of respect for the other Sons, his irritation was evident. “We can’t be certain of that. The stars might be wrong this time.”
Ethelbert, another Son and a man close to the end of his own prime, growled in response, “The stars have never faltered in their predictions—not once.”
“And what if this is the exception?” Lucius countered, meeting the elder Son’s steely gaze. The silence that followed hung heavily, punctuating the absurdity of denial.
The other Sons fixed their steely stares on Lucius. It was unclear whether their anger was directed at his insubordination or at their expectation that he should simply agree.
“We need someone of our kind to influence the royal family,” Ethelbert continued, dismissing Lucius. Referring to Draco as “someone like us” was a stretch; Lucius knew that if Draco did turn out to be an omega, he would have no place within the Sons of Salazar Slytherin. "Someone like us" was the most convenient term to use.
The Sons of Salazar Slytherin was an ancient and secretive society dedicated to optimizing the kingdom’s condition. Though they were viewed unfavorably due to their harsh methods, they considered their actions to be in the kingdom’s best interest. Their reputation for crass tactics was a bitter pill, but their contributions were undeniable. Strategists who led victorious battles, nobles who bolstered local businesses, and members of parliament who dispensed justice all had their hands in shaping the kingdom’s prosperity. The Sons remained in the shadows, reluctant to reveal their affiliation, fearing that exposure would compromise their efforts and only reinforce their negative reputation.
Rumors of the Sons’ existence were widespread, though their members remained elusive. The group was suspected of conspiring against the royal family, despite Salazar Slytherin’s historical alliance with King Godric Gryffindor. It was rumored that a falling out had led Salazar to form this secret society to rid the kingdom of those he deemed "incompatible" or "undeserving."
The society persisted long after Salazar's passing, a testament to the enduring power of his vision. His ideals were deeply ingrained, and each new generation seemed to inherit and perpetuate his beliefs, ensuring the group's survival. Although the general public remained largely unaware of their activities, the group's influence lingered in the shadows. Their presence was felt through hushed whispers and veiled references, instilling a sense of dread and curiosity among those who caught even a glimpse of their reach. They continued to be a source of fear and fascination, their mysterious operations sparking countless rumors and speculations. Despite their elusive nature, the group's ability to shape and unsettle the world around them remained undiminished.
Ethelbert’s gaze shifted to the black-haired man across the room, who, though silent, was unmistakably aware of the conversation’s implications. “Since young Malfoy can never know of the Sons, I trust you will guide him according to our principles?” He gestured toward the black-haired man. “The clergy no longer serves our purposes, so he will act on their behalf from then on.”
“Religion is dying,” one Son remarked.
“It's been on the decline for ages,” another added with an exasperated sigh. “It's nothing more than a formality and tradition for the royal family. Hypocrites!”
“The people and the castle don’t need a god,” Ethelbert winced. “Potter has damaged this kingdom with his so-called ‘ new traditions.’ What’s needed is more than a clergy or a god. A human influence. We can't save James, but his son, the future of the Kingdom of Hogwarts, still holds promise. We have a chance with him.” His gaze hardened as he turned back to Lucius. “You understand this, don’t you? Draco will be their god.”
Lucius found himself unable to voice his thoughts, paralyzed by the weight of his own convictions. The notion that his son might not be an omega was inconceivable. In the lineage of the Malfoys, no omega had ever existed. The family's legacy had always been defined by first-born sons, with their unmistakable traits: platinum blonde hair, piercing gray eyes, and a sleek, commanding presence—an alpha most of all.
Regardless of the other parent’s characteristics, every Malfoy had conformed to this pattern. It was, in a sense, a family curse. A good curse, perhaps, but a curse nonetheless. His firstborn, his only child (since Narcissa had struggled with fertility issues), was a son, as he had hoped. He embodied every traditional trait of a Malfoy: the same platinum blonde hair, the same gray eyes, and alabaster skin. And yet, here was his son, Draco, possessing all the genetic markers that had consistently appeared in every Malfoy before him. Lucius could not fathom any reason to believe Draco would defy this long standing pattern, dismissing it as nothing more than a fleeting prediction rather than a genuine possibility.
Yet, the other Sons were resolute in their decision.
“An early betrothal is admitting Draco is an omega. People will talk,” Lucius protested.
“Is that your only concern right now? An omega Malfoy?” a Son, who worked closely with Hogwarts’ largest international trading business, groaned. This was no time for such trivial worries.
To Lucius, the matter was far from trivial. The Malfoy name and its legacy was at stake. If Draco were to be revealed as an omega, it would be a first for the family and could mean the end of the Malfoy line. Although Draco would still hold the title of Duke of Uaine, it wouldn't be the same. While the title of Prince Draco, Duke of Uaine, might seem prestigious, it would come with the risk of his children on paper being known as "Potter," thus marking the end of the Malfoy name.
He was advised to consider fathering a child with someone else, given Narcissa’s fertility issues, a condition that ran in the Black family and was beyond her control. Though he had always been aware of this, his feelings for Narcissa remained unchanged. His love for her was unwavering, and it would not be diminished by circumstances.
Despite pressure to seek a surrogate, a mistress, or any other means to secure an heir that could save the Malfoy name’s existence, he found these suggestions unacceptable. His loyalty to Narcissa and his family was absolute, and he was determined to remain true to them, no matter the cost. Even losing the Malfoy name.
Not only that, there would be prejudice… God, not that. He fears the time when Draco will lose the intimidation the Malfoy name carries all because he would be seen as inferior. Although there were omegas in the ministry, it’s no secret they suffered the most for all the harrowing reasons.
“We can’t negotiate with Potter without certainty.”
“Alpha or omega, he’ll still be the prince. What’s so embarrassing about that?” another Son grumbled, eager to move past Lucius’ repeated objections. “Our focus should be on infiltrating the castle, not on your son’s status or your family name.”
Lucius was seething but chose to remain silent. He cast a pleading glance at Draco’s godfather, who remained unmoved and silent, unwilling to challenge the other seventeen Sons at the table.
“Are you truly questioning the stars, Lucius?” Ethelbert sneered. “Do you forget how we’ve secured victories, how your family gained its fortune, how Narcissa achieved her greatest wish?”
When Lucius married Narcissa, he had vowed never to involve his family, especially Draco, in the Sons’ machinations. Yet, despite his efforts to shield them, Draco was now entangled in their plans as a pawn. He had managed to keep Narcissa’s name out of it, but the mention of her had clearly struck a nerve.
Lucius realized, with a sinking feeling, that no one at the table was willing to support his objections, not even Draco’s godfather. His protests had been in vain. All he could do now was sit in resignation, acknowledging the Sons’ decision with a heavy heart. They were playing with his son’s future, orchestrating years of grooming for their most ambitious scheme yet.
Ethelbert’s poker face betrayed a hint of satisfaction as Lucius, defeated, slumped slightly in his chair.
“Very well,” Ethelbert said, “the next step is to arrange a proposal meeting with King James.”
___
4 years later
Draco Malfoy stood at the bay window of his bedroom, watching the flurry of actions below as the maids scurried about with the guest's luggages. The May weather was characteristically warm, a welcome change from the dreary winter. The sun’s warmth had made Draco restless, his cheeks flushed from even the slightest kiss of sunlight. Tiny freckles had begun to dot his face, a testament to the hours spent playing in the garden and enjoying blueberry cheesecakes in the gazebo while his mother read him stories.
His reverie was interrupted by the sound of his mother’s cheerful voice. “Draco, dear, come and greet the prince. He’s our guest.”
With a sense of eager anticipation, Draco bounded to her side, his small hand slipping into hers as they walked through the hallway. “Who is he, Mother?” he asked, curiosity sparkling in his eyes.
“He’s the prince, dear. The prince of Hogwarts.” As they reached the top of the grand staircase, she gently released his hand to smooth his already perfectly coiffed hair. She checked his clothes for any imperfections, there were none, and adjusted his collar with practiced precision. She wiped the remnants of a sun-kissed glow from his cheeks, her touch tender.
“Prince?” Draco’s brow furrowed as he glanced toward the towering doors, where he could see his father watching their young guest approach. “Aren’t I the prince?” His voice carried a note of jealousy, his face scrunched in frustration.
In his mind, he was the prince—the prince of the manor, to be precise. After hearing stories of valiant princes who were adored by their people, fought off beasts, and married beautiful princesses, he had taken to calling himself the prince. His innocent childlike dreams had led him to believe that such a title was rightfully his.
“You are, dear. You’re Mommy’s brave dragon and the prince of our manor.” She kissed his left cheek and pulled back to look at him with affectionate eyes. “But remember, a prince must always behave with grace. Promise me you’ll be nice?”
Draco nodded dutifully, though his expression remained somewhat robotic. “I promise.”
Satisfied, his mother offered him a radiant smile before rising to her feet and taking his hand once more. As they descended the stairs, Draco observed Prince Harry from a distance. The young prince was looking around curiously, flanked by Lucius and his godfather, Severus.
Narcissa released Draco’s hand, indicating that he should approach Harry. Draco hesitated, but a reassuring nod from his mother encouraged him forward.
“Hello,” Draco said, attempting to mimic the polite tone his father used with his adult acquaintances.
Harry looked up from his exploration, offering a friendly smile and a nod. “Hi!”
Draco’s eyes were drawn immediately to Harry’s red jumper, made of what appeared to be sheep’s wool of dubious quality. Loose threads were already unraveling, a sign of either poor craftsmanship or Harry’s own attempts at fiddling with it. The contrast to Draco’s impeccably pressed baby blue blouse, free of a single stray thread, and his crisply ironed shorts, socks that reached his knees, and perfectly polished dress shoes, was stark.
Harry’s hair was equally disheveled, an uneven cut leaving his curls in a chaotic state. Unbeknownst to Draco, the untidy hair was the result of a pair of scissors wielded by an unattended child. Despite the efforts of Harry’s servants to salvage what they could, the haircut remained a mess. Princess Lily, Harry’s mother, had taken the mishap in stride, claiming her own childhood was filled with similar adventures.
“Draco, this is Prince Harry of Hogwarts,” Lucius announced, his voice carrying an air of formality. “He’ll be staying with us for three weeks. He’s here to be your friend, so why don’t you show him around while the adults discuss matters?”
Draco, taking in the sight of the disheveled boy before him, felt a mixture of curiosity and unease. Despite his initial reservations, he knew his role as a gracious host was expected. With a deep breath, he extended his hand toward Harry. “Come on, let’s see the garden."
Behind them, two pairs of eyes watched anxiously while a third, more hopeful pair observed as the children turned a corner.
This moment marked the beginning of their relationship—a carefully orchestrated start. The acceptance of Lucius’ proposal by James had been a significant relief. The goal was to ensure that Harry would have a trusted companion as he grew up, especially given the difficulty of forming genuine friendships within the constraints of royalty. Draco, being from an affluent family with longstanding ties to the royal family, was considered an ideal match. The Malfoys had no ulterior motives of power or wealth and has a long history with the royal family, making them a suitable choice for Harry. James, knowing Lucius’ pride, understood that he would not be seeking fortune but rather a meaningful connection. Moreover, Draco and Harry were born in the same year, providing ample opportunities for them to bond with their similar age.
It had taken considerable diplomacy from Lucius to pique James’ interest in his family. The intricate dance of negotiations and flattery was necessary to draw attention to Draco, who was seen as a promising addition to the royal circle. Lucius had assured James that his son would be meticulously groomed for a role in the ministry, following in his father’s footsteps to be in an influential position. The Ministry of Royal Affairs was intrigued by Draco's potential, especially with the stars' prediction suggesting he would evolve into an omega. A rare and valuable trait that would ensure he could produce a suitable heir.
The prospect of Draco's future role as an omega added a layer of strategic significance to his inclusion in the ministry, not just the royal family. This potential was not just a matter of personal pride for Lucius but a calculated move to align with the broader interests of the Ministry of Royal Affairs. Additionally, some of the council and ministers' endorsement had been subtly influenced by covert members of The Sons of Salazar Slytherin, who saw the integration of Draco into the royal circle as advantageous for their own clandestine objectives. These initiatives helped solidify Draco's position as a candidate of interest, intertwining his fate with a web of political and secretive ambitions.
However, the arrangement wasn’t definitive per Princess Lily’s suggestion. The visits were intended to assess how well the children would get along, with decisions about their future partnership to be made when they were older. Lucius was comfortable with this flexible approach, as it provided Draco with the freedom to explore his identity, whether he became an alpha Malfoy as he would hope or not. Should Draco turn out to be an alpha, Lucius could address the Sons’ concerns later.
The Sons were highly satisfied with the progress of their plan, perhaps more than was prudent. Nearly four years of negotiations with James and his inner circle had culminated in this agreement. Harry would visit Malfoy Manor twice a year, for three weeks in May and November. These visits were intended to provide Harry with a change of scenery and to become acquainted with the Malfoy lifestyle in Uaine. The Sons encouraged this arrangement, believing it would help Harry understand their ways, ingrained in the Malfoy and Black families’ traditional principles, and integrate into their broader strategy.
“What was your name again?” Harry asked, unable to catch the first time Lucius said it nor the time when Severus talked about him back at the castle.
“Draco,” he answered.
Harry made a funny face. “That’s a weird name.”
“It’s not! My mother gave me that name,” he huffed. “What’s your name then?”
“Prince Harry, but momma tells me it’s okay for friends to call me Harry. I guess you’re my friend now, Snape says we should be friends.”
“You’re a prince?” Draco’s voice cut through the quiet as the echo of his dress shoes and Harry’s softer footsteps filled the space between them.
Harry’s gaze remained fixed on the imposing walls and their ornate decorations. “Yes, my father is the king, and my mother is the princess.”
As they neared the back door leading to the garden, Draco darted to a corner of the kitchen to grab his boater hat, adorned with the silver snake emblem of his parents’ favorite clothing brand. The hat had become his shield against the sun’s rays, a small rebellion against his father’s aversion to his growing freckles. Lucius disliked the freckles, seeing them as a sign of frivolity, whereas Narcissa welcomed the evidence of youth leaving visible kisses on him.
“You don’t look like a prince,” Draco remarked, scrutinizing Harry with the seriousness only a five-year-old could muster.
Harry looked up, slightly puzzled. “What do you mean?”
Draco adjusted his boater hat with a huff, clearly trying to adhere to his father’s standards. “Well, princes usually wear fancy clothes and have perfect hair. You’re... different.”
“I guess not all princes look the same.”Harry let out a nervous chuckle, glancing at his own tousled hair and rumpled clothes. “Well, what does a prince look like?”
Draco tilted his head, considering this. He puffed out his chest and said, “A prince has yellow hair, is tall, wears green or purple clothes, has a dragon, carries a sword to protect his princess, lives in a castle, and has blue eyes.”
Harry watched Draco with a bemused expression. “My hair is black and my eyes are green, but I’m still a prince. I live in a castle, too. It’s in Godric.”
As they wandered through the garden, Draco kept looking around, searching for something to do. He watched Harry follow him, stopping occasionally to fiddle with the leaves of the flower bushes.
“Where’s your dragon and sword?” Draco asked, his curiosity piqued.
Harry shook his head with a smile. “I don’t have a dragon or a sword.”
Draco straightened up, emphasizing his point. “Well, I’m blonde, I have gray eyes that are almost blue, I live in a castle, and I have a dragon. Plus, I have lots of green clothes. So, I’m a prince.”
Harry looked at Draco and grinned. “Yeah, right.”
Draco wanted to make his mother proud, but Harry’s non-conformity was making it hard for him to warm up to the idea of this “different” prince. Despite his best efforts, Draco found himself struggling to see Harry as the friend he was meant to be.
~.~
Over the following days, Harry was inseparable from Draco. The boys, though young, had quickly established a daily routine, but Harry’s claim of being accustomed to living in a castle was tested by his apparent tendency to get lost in the grandiose spaces of Malfoy Manor. While Draco navigated the manor with practiced ease, Harry often found himself bewildered by the labyrinthine hallways and countless rooms. His focus was always on what was in front of him, never anticipating the twists and turns of his new surroundings.
On the sixth day of Harry’s stay, things took a turn for the worse. During a discussion with the maids about what snacks the boys wanted for the afternoon, Draco had reached his very short patience when they kept referring to Harry as "prince." His jealousy flared, and he stormed off in a huff, leaving Harry behind in the gazebo. Draco’s tantrum was followed by loud, angry cries that echoed through the manor, as he felt his position and favor diminished.
Harry, feeling the sting of Draco’s rejection, tried to apologize but was met with Draco's stubborn refusal to acknowledge him. Overwhelmed and unsure of how to mend the rift, Harry ran off, scrambling through the manor's numerous rooms and corridors he hadn’t yet explored. His search for Draco led him deeper into the manor, where he found himself utterly lost and increasingly anxious. Alone and frightened, Harry’s sense of abandonment led to tears, which were eventually heard by Draco's godfather, Severus.
Severus, known for his icy demeanor, found Harry huddled in a quiet, unused room. Though he rarely showed his emotions, his pity for the lost boy was evident. Severus led Harry back to where the family was, but the tension lingered. At dinner, Narcissa, with her characteristic warmth, expressed sympathy for Harry, which only intensified Draco’s jealousy. She gently scolded Draco for his earlier behavior and encouraged him to be more considerate of their guest.
In an effort to improve the boys’ relations, Severus organized a painting session for them. It was clear to Draco, who took his artwork seriously, that Harry had little natural talent for the arts. Harry’s technique was clumsy; he colored outside the pre-drawn lines with abandon, resulting in a chaotic, mismatched piece of art. Draco, on the other hand, worked meticulously on a detailed drawing of a horde of horses, focusing on the intricate details with patience. Quite impressive for a boy his age.
Narcissa’s insistence, of course, on introducing Draco to the arts was rooted in a longstanding Black family tradition of immersing children in artistic pursuits from a young age. The goal was for them to explore various forms of art and discover which ones brought them the most joy. By the time they reached adulthood, it was expected that a member of the Black family would have mastered a particular art form, whether it be in visual arts, performance, literature, or craftsmanship.
As the boys worked in relative silence, Harry broke it by asking, “How old are you?”
“I’m five, but I’ll be six next month,” Draco replied, not taking his eyes off his painting. His skillful use of color contrasted sharply with Harry’s less coordinated approach. Draco’s work was a testament to his patience and attention to detail, whereas Harry’s painting resembled a hastily done chessboard, the pieces scattered without rhyme or reason.
“My birthday is in July,” Harry said, approaching Draco’s canvas. He glanced at the impressive work and admitted silently that Draco was far better at painting than he was. “So, we’re both five!”
Draco didn’t respond, preferring to concentrate on perfecting his artwork. He found it hard to engage with Harry, whom he still regarded as an unwelcome intruder in his world.
The rest of Harry’s visit was relatively tame. Draco, motivated by his mother’s wishes, made a concerted effort to behave better, even though he still struggled with Harry’s presence. Harry, for his part, attempted to engage Draco in various activities from more painting sessions to simply enjoying afternoon tarts. He even tried to play tag, but Draco, disinterested in physical activity, avoided breaking a sweat.
As the day of Harry’s departure arrived, he hurried to climb into the carriage, eager to return to his home—the castle—in Godric. “Bye–” was all he managed to say to Draco, his excitement overshadowing any lingering discomfort.
Draco, with a subdued expression, mumbled a barely audible “Goodbye.” He watched as his godfather and father prepared to send Harry off, their nods of acknowledgment marking the end of the visit.
“What did you think of Prince Harry?” Lucius asked, studying Draco’s expression closely.
Draco, with his brows furrowed and lips set in a pout, replied honestly, “I don’t like him. A prince should behave properly, and Harry doesn’t.”
___
November that year
Lucius selected the tiny black suit from Draco’s closet with careful consideration. He recalled choosing this particular set upon his beloved’s request. It struck the perfect balance between formal and casual, ensuring that young Draco would look both refined and appropriately dressed for the evening.
“What’s the occasion, Father?” Draco asked as the maid gently helped him into the suit.
The longer Lucius observed his son, the more striking the resemblance between them became. It was as though the boy was a mirror image of himself. With the Sons' plans set into motion, Lucius couldn’t shake the growing unease that perhaps this venture was fraught with peril. The prospect of his son potentially becoming a prince, or even an alpha, no longer seemed to ease his anxiety. Instead, he was tormented by the fear that he might be using his own child as a mere pawn in a scheme that might not yield the desired outcomes. What would be the cost if these plans failed? And more crucially, what would become of Draco in the aftermath?
Lucius tried to push these worries aside, but they lingered at the back of his mind.
“The princess will be staying with us for a week,” Lucius explained, a note of displeasure in his voice. “She’s here to check on how the prince is settling into the manor for his visits.” Princess Lily was not someone Lucius was particularly eager to entertain. He considered her—as she was a commoner—presumptuous for surveying their home after hearing about the minor mishap involving Prince Harry last May.
What would she know about a manor’s interior?
Severus, however, had insisted that Lily’s visit was meant to help her son adjust to his new surroundings, as he would be starting private tutoring along with Draco. Lucius had to admit that a welcoming environment was essential for Harry’s comfort and learning, though he found the situation less than ideal.
“Harry will be here again?” Draco’s brow furrowed with curiosity and a hint of annoyance.
“Yes, Draco, he’s here for you,” Lucius said, tightening his grip on the snake-shaped head of his cane. The serpent had become a potent symbol in their home, embodying both its subtle power and its implications. “Be on your best behavior. We can’t afford to have you causing any more tears. It’s already caused enough trouble that you managed to become a topic of discussion at the Potters' dinner, especially concerning Harry’s feelings. The last thing we need is Lily showing up in such short notice because the prince isn’t being made to feel welcome.”
Draco fell silent, his face a mix of concentration and apprehension as the maid finished brushing his hair. He didn’t like it when his father was stern or seemed displeased. His mother had always advised him to avoid provoking his father’s anger. Once his appearance met his father’s exacting standards, Draco followed him closely until they reached the grand doors of the manor. Narcissa greeted Lily and Harry with her usual grace, engaging in polite conversation with her and Severus while maintaining her elegant demeanor.
Draco observed his father’s formal greeting of the princess and prince with great attention. Lucius stood tall, his posture impeccable, his smile carefully controlled. He exuded authority with every movement.
Draco’s focus was momentarily broken when Harry tugged on his elbow.
“Hello again!” Harry said with a wide, enthusiastic grin. His grudge with the young blonde seemingly disappeared which can be chalked up to a child’s innocence making him incapable of holding long-term grudges after a “sorry”. He, too, was dressed in his dinner suit, though it seemed everyone was slightly more formal than usual.
“Hello,” Draco greeted back, wanting to impress his father by mimicking how he greeted the princess just now. “How was the journey?”
“Too long,” Harry dramatically complained, tilting his head back as if exhausted. “I wasn’t allowed to play with my bow the entire time. Mom said we weren’t on hunting grounds which is a no-no.”
“What’s hunting?” Draco asked, puzzled by the unfamiliar term.
Harry’s eyes lit up with excitement, enthusiastically shaking his mothers hand. “Can I bring Draco to hunt? Please, please, please!”
Lily looked horrified at the suggestion and quickly turned to Narcissa and Severus, avoiding Lucius’ disapproving glare. She didn’t see it but she knew it was there. “Harry, that’s not appropriate. There are things we can do in Godric, but not here in Uaine,” she said, her voice trembling slightly with a mixture of frustration and concern.
“Why not?” Harry asked innocently. His bow was, of course, merely a practice weapon. The king believed it essential to begin his son’s training in weaponry early, despite the protests of many council members. He argued that this early start would ensure his son mastered the art of combat by his teenage years, becoming the most skilled and courageous prince of his generation.
By this point, Draco was utterly confused. He was raised in the noble Black and Malfoy principles and to those families hunting was such an unnecessarily barbaric passtime practiced mostly by the northerners, devoid of the serene lifestyle of the people from the Southwest, so he had no idea such a sport existed. He had not been exposed to the thrill of killing a moving animal in a display of marksmanship, so he was not aware of its barbaric nature and why his parents had such disdain for it.
“We’ll use the leathers that I brought.” He was referring to the safety gear his father secretly didn’t want him to use. More daring and adventurous to experience the many possible ways to injure oneself with weaponry. “Please, mom?”
“Absolutely not!” Lucius banged his cane to stop the boy from getting hyper of the idea of shooting rabbits or birds in their garden. Everyone flinched at the sound. Draco had it worse since he attributed that move to when he was misbehaving. An instinct of his to surrender when he heard the menacing warning. “No hunting in the manor and I won’t allow Draco to touch a weapon in his life, understood?”
The little boy felt the authoritative presence of Lucius, cowered behind his mother who gave an apologetic look to the adults.
Dinner went on relatively smoothly. Albeit, Lucius wished Lily would mess up somehow, so he could have a reasonable excuse to shame her for her canaille disposition. Alas, she had a certain charm in her that made her confusion look innocent rather embarrassing. It wasn’t helping that Severus would silently assist her when she would momentarily look confused. Always coming to her aid when she never asked for it.
~.~
The plan had been that Lily was to stay for a week in the manor to observe Harry’s state. Nothing too alarming for the Sons to resort to interfering with the progress. All she needed to do was check if her son was being treated right. However, by the fourth day she couldn’t stand to be there any longer. It had nothing to do with how they treated her son but mostly because she can tell she wasn’t welcomed. It was practically impossible to hold a conversation with the duke and dutchess. Lily, despite coming from a humble merchant family, was not blind to their carefully masked condescension in their fancy words. They were civil for the most part but she would be an idiot not to connect their lack of warmth compared to her son who had—at least—blood royalty in him. And Lily was no idiot.
If it were up to her, she would never have agreed to Draco and Harry’s betrothal. She had no desire for elitists to be part of her family. However, the decision was not hers to make. The Ministry of Royal Affairs was adamant that Draco Malfoy would be the best partner for her son, the prince. James, for his part, seemed resigned to the arrangement, noting that while the Duke of Uaine might appear intimidating, he was a respectable person and not far removed from the royal circle. Though she had not been raised in royalty herself, as a mother, she felt a deep unease about the situation.
Despite her reservations, she observed Harry’s interactions with Draco. It was difficult to ignore the subtle sneers from Draco’s parents, but she noticed that Harry seemed at ease when he was with Draco. The young Malfoy, despite his snarky demeanor, had a way of indulging Harry’s curiosities. Where Harry was boisterous, Draco offered a refined touch, keeping the prince in check. “Make him a proper prince,” she had overheard Severus say.
Her concerns were at odds with the wishes of the Ministry and the needs of James, so she swallowed her pride and prepared to leave. With Severus looking after Harry, she found some solace in knowing he was in capable hands.
When Harry saw his mother at the door, tears welled up in his eyes, and he clung to her, thinking she was abandoning him.
“Dear, you’ll still see me when you get back home,” she said gently, her voice soothing as her crying son buried his face in her neck. She crouched down to offer him a comforting embrace. “You and Draco have some learning to do with Snape, and then I’ll see you back at the castle, okay?”
“Don’t leave me,” Harry sobbed, unable to grasp the situation fully.
She gently lifted his face to meet his tearful eyes with her own. “I’m not leaving you. Your father and I will be waiting for you at home. Remember, you did this last time, didn’t you?”
Harry gave a small, shaky nod.
“Now, be a good boy for them, learn a lot, and we’ll have treacle tarts by the fireplace when you return. How does that sound?”
“Okay,” he murmured.
Lily’s face brightened with a warm smile as she planted a big kiss on his cheek. “I’ll see you soon, dear,” she said, hugging him tightly one last time.
Unbeknownst to the mother and son, little Malfoy watched their tender farewell from a distance. He observed with a quiet satisfaction that the tears were not a result of his own actions, as his father might have feared.
~.~
“Keep up, Prince Harry,” Severus instructed, casting a quick glance at Draco to gauge his reaction. Draco, fortunately, was too absorbed in his own work to notice. “We must proceed to the Local Culture session by the third hour after noon.
Draco felt a flush of satisfaction as he admired his neatly penned sentences. His writing lesson had focused on improving penmanship and expanding vocabulary, and Draco’s elegant script, with its meticulously curled capital letters and perfected lowercase r’s, mirrored the finesse of his mother’s hand. He was eager to progress to the next set of sentences, but Severus had insisted they work at a uniform pace. Unfortunately, Harry's slower progress was proving a challenge. Even at their tender age, they were engaged in advanced lessons tailored to their future roles in society, which might have been too challenging for young Harry.
“I’m trying!” Harry protested. “My hand hurts too much when I write longer words.”
“Don’t grip your quill too hard,” Severus repeated again since Harry didn’t learn it the first nine times he’d said it. “Your hand gets tired because you’re exerting effort on your grip, making you tired very quickly.”
Harry let out a dramatic groan but continued scribbling the remaining words of his short paragraph.
Draco leaned over to inspect Harry’s progress before turning back to his own parchment. “Did I do well, Professor Snape?”
“Master Draco consistently excels in his academic endeavors. Truly remarkable.”
Harry narrowed his eyes as Draco’s smug expression became evident. Draco’s posh accent grew even more pronounced in his teasing. “You may excel in writing and reading, but I excel in hunting,” Harry countered defensively.
“But I did better,” Draco replied, his tone dripping with a mix of superiority and playfulness.
Before Harry could retort, Severus interjected, “Finish these last three paragraphs, and then you may take a break.” He distributed a parchment to each of them.
Harry let out an exaggerated groan while Draco obediently went to work.
However, Harry wouldn’t complete his last paragraph. Lucius hurried the children to dress, as it was time for their Local Culture lesson. This was to be a field trip, as Lucius had an event to attend. The event was a showcase for all schools within the Kingdom of Hogwarts, where each institution and private art schools selected their finest artists to display their work in the Pavilion of Visual Arts. A venue significantly enhanced by the Malfoys’ generous donation to ensure their art had a prominent presence.
Draco had often heard from his mother that the Pavilion was where she had first met his father. She had dabbled in art as was expected of a Black, and Lucius had been the host at that time. As the saying goes, the rest was history.
Severus stayed close to Harry while Draco held both his parents’ hands. They walked through the pavilion, occasionally pausing to discuss artworks that caught their attention.
“This is one of the many ways artists in the kingdom can earn recognition and financial support,” Severus explained to Harry.
Harry remained oddly silent for most of the visit, though he asked occasional questions, revealing a budding curiosity about the array of complex artworks, so different from the hasty sketches he was used to.
“Why is Draco’s family here? Why do they talk to those people?”
“Lord Lucius is dedicated to supporting artists and promoting the art culture at Hogwarts. He is highly respected by students, artists, and sponsors alike, as he fosters a thriving environment for the arts.”
“How?”
“They earn money through the sale of their artworks, commissions from patrons, and sometimes through grants and sponsorships,” Severus explained.
Harry’s attention shifted to a nearby portrait, where the artist had intricately captured her weary mother. The painting conveyed a deep sense of emotion and resilience. “Can I sell my paintings too, if I make them look as good as Draco’s?” he asked.
“You’ll be king,” Severus replied gently. “Kings don’t create art; they govern kingdoms. Your role will be much more than just appreciating art. This trip is about understanding and valuing it, not necessarily perfecting it.”
“But Draco’s mother makes him be better,” Harry pointed out.
“People in Godric and Uaine have different lifestyles and practices. That’s what makes up their respective cultures. Here, you’re learning about the diverse ways people across the kingdom live and work, which will help you make more informed decisions in the future.”
Harry’s brows knitted together, and a small, puzzled pout appeared on his lips. “That’s confusing.”
“When you become king, you’ll understand it better,” Severus said patiently.
“Why should I wait until then? Can’t you explain it now?” Harry persisted.
“Don’t worry, Prince Harry,” Severus reassured him with a gentle smile. “There’s much to learn before everything becomes clear. Draco’s family is helping you gain the knowledge and experience you need.”
As the family continued their tour of the pavilion, greeting each artist and admiring their work, Draco cast frequent glances toward Harry, who was trailing behind with his godfather. Draco’s maternal grandmother had always taught him that a person who failed to appreciate genuine talent was a fool. He simply wanted to know if Harry was one.
Draco’s gaze remained fixed on Harry, even as his parents mingled with other ministers. The young prince, engrossed in examining a meticulously carved wooden lion, remained blissfully unaware of Draco’s scrutinizing stare.
When he eventually caught Draco’s gaze, the latter narrowed his eyes then turned away with his nose pointed up. The action confused Harry, who could only stick out his tongue at the unknowing blonde.
~.~
It was time for one of Harry’s favorite lessons: Basic Weaponry. Lucius found the whole idea distasteful, especially for a child so young and with Draco present. King James had insisted that Harry continue his swordsmanship and archery training even while staying at Uaine, sending a master to oversee his lessons, so Lucius couldn't simply ignore this requirement or claim Harry had his lessons without getting caught in a lie.
Lucius surmised Lily had no objections to her son being a brute this young. How uncouth.
The king had dispatched one of his closest friends, Remus Lupin, for this purpose. Narcissa later informed Lucius that she was somewhat familiar with Lupin. He was a beloved friend of her cousin. Although she didn’t know him well, she mentioned that he shared some of their traditionalist values though not to their preference.
Lucius rarely allowed outsiders into their manor, except for Prince Harry, who, being half-blood royalty, was an exception. Severus too since Lucius had long known the man and had shown that he was more leaning to their traditions than the other. And there was with the Sons' expectations for the children's relationship, Lucius would have to set aside his reservations and welcome Lupin into their home.
Severus didn’t say much, not that he ever did, but he was quite familiar with the man. Not many good stories to tell from his personal experiences but it was what the king wanted. Then again, he hated the king and didn’t get along with him personally. His loyalty was to Princess Lily, and what she wanted was what King James wanted. So, against his own personal grievances, Severus was loyal to the king’s wishes.
“I like learning the sword more,” Harry told Draco as they examined the weaponry Lupin had brought from the castle. He picked up a practice sword and waved it enthusiastically in front of Draco.
Draco flinched and shot him a reproachful look. “I don’t want to just sit around while you do nothing.” Lucius had strictly forbidden Draco from handling weapons unless they were for sports, though even that was a tentative permission. And for today’s lesson with Lupin, it definitely wasn’t for sports.
“Why not?” Harry asked.
Draco could only give a shrug. Just then Remus entered the parlor room, the only room Lucius tolerated they could practice in for this particular lesson.
“Alright, mini Potter”—Remus ruffled Harry’s hair, making him giggle—“ready for your lesson?”
“Always, Moony,” he beamed.
“That’s the spirit!” Remus grinned widely before turning to Draco. “Master Draco, would you like some apple juice while you wait for your next lesson?”
Draco accepted the apple juice but barely touched it, preoccupied with the thought that Harry might excel at something for once. Although Draco knew little about sword fighting, Remus’ enthusiastic praise suggested that Harry was quite skilled.
November brought a new routine to the manor. Harry and Draco would have breakfast with Narcissa and Severus first—Lucius was occupied with early meetings. Their mornings consisted of Basic Etiquette lessons. Despite the two young boys having different social classes, Draco would still be taught royal etiquettes and how to address monarchs of various ranks. Unbeknownst to them, he’d become a prince after marriage, so it would be useful for him soon, but he didn’t need to know that for now.
After lunch in the gazebo, they would have Writing for every day. Harry’s speed had improved, though his penmanship remained hasty and unreadable. On Mondays and Wednesdays, they tagged along with Lucius in his work to learn more about the arts and subtly implemented in the boys’ head that this was to be preserved and supported to keep it alive. He would do that by making them care more about the art and the community behind them, which, to his credit, was doing relatively smoothly.
On Tuesdays and Thursdays, Severus would give them hypothetical scenarios and ask them to assess their next move. It was to teach them responsibility and stir their morals in a certain direction.
On Fridays, afternoon would be spent learning mathematics and science. And on Saturdays, Draco got to ride his family’s horses the rest of the afternoon while Harry focused on his swordsmanship.
Harry did get to practice swordsmanship everyday, after all his lessons with Draco while the latter either reads a book in the corner or has a snack of his request. Then finally, their lessons would come to an end with Foreign Language. Narcissa had suggested it since she didn’t like having dirty boys (Harry with Weaponry and Draco, though only on Saturdays, with Equestrian), so that would give them time to cool off before dinner, the time Lucius usually arrives back in the manor.
___
May next year
Harry was puzzled as he sat on the grand staircase of Malfoy Manor, waiting while Severus and Remus spoke with Lucius and Narcissa. Normally, Draco was there to greet him upon arrival, but today was different. As soon as they arrived, Draco’s parents had seemed uneasy and immediately requested to speak with Harry’s guardians.
After a few minutes, Remus came to fetch Harry. He crouched down to meet Harry’s eye level and took his tiny hands. “Listen, Harry, you need to be extra nice to Draco today. No more teasing, okay?”
Harry instinctively protested, “But he makes fun of me! He said my hair is weird.”
“I know, buddy, but you have to be better than that. Draco teases because he’s trying to get a laugh, but that’s not right. Snape will help him understand that it’s not okay to make fun of you. You don’t want to be mean, do you?”
Harry shook his head. “No, Momma says I should always be good.”
“And being good means being kind,” Remus said gently. “So, don’t give him a hard time, okay?”
“Okay,” Harry agreed, though he was still a bit confused by the adults’ unusual behavior.
“You two don’t have lessons today, so you can play for the rest of the day. Try to make Draco laugh without teasing him. Can you do that for me?” Remus asked, smiling as Harry nodded enthusiastically. “Great! Go meet Draco in his room.”
Harry, despite having been teased before about getting lost in the manor before, knew exactly where to go this time. He left his bags on the stairs, where the maids would collect them later, and hurried to the familiar green room. He knocked softly before opening the door, finding Draco seated in his bay window, engrossed in a book.
“Hi, Draco,” Harry greeted with little enthusiasm.
“Hello,” Draco replied without looking up.
Draco didn’t appear any different from when Harry last saw him. His demeanor was unchanged—his clothes, his expression, and his tone were all just as Harry remembered.
Harry asked if they could play, but Draco said he wanted to finish his book, explaining that he was trying to understand rhyming schemes. So, Harry wandered around the room, examining the trinkets neatly arranged on a large shelf since Draco wouldn’t get out of his seat.
Harry couldn't help but notice the trend of decor in his room. “You like stars a lot, huh?” he acknowledged as he picked up the tchotchke that resembled a shooting star.
Draco replied without looking away from his book, “Mother does, now so do I.” His accent, ever so posh.
“Stars, painting, horses, apples, writing, reading… You like those a lot.” Harry placed the tchotchke back down, although skewed more on the left from its original position. He wouldn’t notice, but Draco would most certainly will later on.
Draco hummed, still not taking his eyes off his book.
Despite his promise to Remus, Harry couldn’t resist commenting, “It’s funny. I don’t like any of that stuff, but you do.” He continued exploring the room. “We have a wizard in our castle who charms the gifts we give. Mom said that’s all they’re allowed to do since we don’t know much about them.” He picked up a snow globe. “Do any of your gifts do magic?”
Draco only then looks up from his book, sporting his signature furrowed brows and pointed nose. “Don’t you know that only gifts from and to royals can be charmed? It’s a privilege.”
“What’s ‘privilege’?” Harry asked, puzzled.
“Privilege is something special that not everyone gets, Mother tells me. Like having a really fun toy or going to a cool place that others can’t. It’s like getting extra treats or doing something that makes you feel important.” Draco said this with a hint of smugness, proud of his vocabulary. “You’re a prince, Harry. You have privilege because your gifts can be charmed, while ours can’t.”
“How do you know that word?” he asked in disbelief. “Sounds made up.”
“If you read a lot of books, you learn new words. Mother or Snape teach me what words mean. I like learning new words,” Draco said matter-of-factly.
Once Harry had enough looking at Draco’s collection, he jumped on the large emerald bed much to the blond’s disapproval, landing with a bounce. “How about the wizard thingy? How’d you hear about them?”
“Snape told me.” Draco stood up and walked over to Harry who was laying on his back, hitting his feet. “And get off my bed!”
Harry shot him a glance. “You really are weird.”
“I’m not weird, you are. You like to do what soldiers do. I thought you were a prince. A prince would never sweat the way you do.”
Harry sat up, propping himself with his elbows. “My dad said I would fight in the army one day, so I have to be the best when it comes to using the sword.”
“Gross, unpleasant,” Draco said with a shudder.
“The princes in your books are nothing like the princes in the real world.” Harry returned the hard glare from Draco, tilting his head to the side as if to challenge him. “I would know, I am one.”
Right then the boys knew, they would have to tolerate each other again. Someone had to be nicer and neither of them wanted to do that.
~.~
Harry had started calling Draco "weird" whenever Draco did something different from him. It was his way of pointing out every little quirk or difference, and he never missed a chance to say it. What had once been minor annoyances had begun to wear on Harry, especially since Draco had always made him feel inferior for not fitting in with their shared habits back at Godric. Now, Harry felt the same way about Draco’s behavior.
Their constant bickering started catching the attention of the adults, leading to punishments. But Draco seemed to get off lighter, almost as if he was treated with kid gloves. Harry, on the other hand, faced harsher consequences, and the favoritism only made his jealousy grow. It was like people treated him like a cracked glass.
It used to be Draco who envied Harry’s special treatment, but now the tables had turned. Whenever Draco got upset, it seemed like Harry was the one getting blamed, no matter who started it. It felt as if Harry could do no right in the eyes of the adults. Whether it was Harry that called him names or whether it was Draco that stuck out his feet to trip him. No matter what, Harry was the one getting scolded.
Remus kept advising Harry to be kinder with his words, but telling six-year-olds not to do something often made them do it even more. Harry’s jealousy and frustration made his teasing worse, and his patience began to wear thin.
Harry’s taunts grew bolder. He mocked Draco’s every move and habit, calling him "weird" and imitating him just to get a rise out of him. At first, Draco tried to ignore it, but Harry’s laughter and sense of victory made it harder for Draco to stay silent. His pride wouldn’t let him be the punchline of Harry’s jokes.
Things came to a head when Draco decided he’d had enough. As he was working on his cursive practice from the poetry book Severus had given him, Harry sneered, “Stop being like your mother. You just do whatever she tells you to do.”
Draco shoved the hand that was about to grab his quill with his arm. “Stop!” He gave him a hard glare. “Mother teaches me how to be better and I do them so I can be better.”
"Oh yeah?" Harry mocked. "You’re just a little puppet, doing whatever she says. Just like how you write so dainty and slow, like a girl."
"At least my mum cares about me!" Draco defended, his voice rising.
"Yeah, but she treats you like a baby. You act like one, too," Harry taunted with a smirk.
Draco frowned, gripping his quill tighter. "I’m not a baby! She’s helping me, and I’m learning things you don’t know."
"Like how to write like a princess?" Harry teased. "Is that why you sit like that, all proper and neat all the time?"
"I’m not a girl!" Draco said, his face growing redder.
"You always run to her, like you can’t handle anything on your own. So pathetic. You let yourself be weak like that?"
Overwhelmed by the horrible implications of what Harry had said (to Draco at least)—and the revulsion he felt toward it—Draco could no longer suppress his emotions. The disgust he had tried to bury deep inside flared up uncontrollably. His face flushed with anger and hurt as he sprang to his feet, nearly toppling his chair. “Better than having a mother who’s weak!” Draco shot back, his voice trembling with a mix of fury and frustration. “Your mother’s an omega! She was poor and that’s why she married your dad—because she’s weak!”
Harry’s face twisted in anger. He shoved Draco hard, the chair scraping behind the blond. "Shut up!"
Draco stumbled but caught himself, eyes wide with shock. "Why’d you push me?"
Harry’s eyes were burning with anger as he stared at Draco, who was still glaring at him after the shove. "Go ahead, say something else about my mum!" Harry challenged, his fists balling up at his sides.
Draco hesitated for a moment, realizing he might have crossed a line, but his pride refused to let him back down. His lip curled as he spat, "I bet she can’t even protect you. That’s why you're always writing letters to Snape to scold Father, isn't it? She hides behind her alpha and beta. Because she's too weak to—"
That was all Harry needed to hear. Without thinking, his fist flew forward, landing square on Draco's cheek. Draco stumbled backward, the shock of the punch sending him to the ground. His hand instinctively went to his face, feeling the sting and heat rising in his skin.
"You hit me!" Draco exclaimed, his voice a mix of disbelief and fury.
Harry stood over him, breathing hard. "Yeah, and I’ll do it again if you don’t shut up."
Draco’s shock quickly turned to rage, but it was mixed with something else—fear. He scrambled to his feet, tackling Harry by the waist. The two boys fell to the ground in a heap, wrestling and shoving each other. Draco’s breathing became ragged; every hit and shove seemed to echo his trauma, making his movements more frantic and desperate.
“You’re weak!” Harry hissed, trying to push Draco off.
"I’m not!" Draco growled, though his punches were wild and unfocused. The chaotic physical struggle was too much for Draco, considering that Harry has been learning Weaponry, making it harder for him to fight back effectively.
The scuffle continued as they rolled across the floor, both red-faced and panting. Harry’s knuckles caught Draco’s lip, splitting it, but Draco’s fear and discomfort were evident. He shoved Harry’s face with one hand while swinging with the other, his resolve crumbling under the weight of his anxiety about this burst of violence.
"Boys, that’s enough!" A voice suddenly boomed, and strong hands pulled the boys apart.
Remus stood between them, holding each boy by the back of their shirts as they panted and struggled against him. His eyes were firm, yet disappointed as he looked between the two, their cheeks flushed red and hair disheveled. Draco’s lower lip was bleeding, a thin stream of red trickling down his chin.
"What is going on here?" Remus asked, his voice calm but stern.
Both boys were too breathless to respond immediately, still glaring at each other with intensity in their eyes.
"Well?" Remus pressed, setting them down but keeping a firm grip on their shoulders. "I expect an explanation."
Harry wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, chest still heaving. "He—he said something about my mum," Harry muttered.
Draco, his lip still bleeding, looked away from Harry and towards the floor. His voice was shaky. "He hit me first," he mumbled, though his voice lacked its usual bravado. "I... I don’t like fighting. F—Father would be disappointed and Mother wouldn’t like it."
Remus’ gaze softened slightly as he noticed Draco's distress. "Fighting isn't going to solve anything. You both need to learn to control yourselves."
The boys remained silent, though their cheeks stayed red, and their pride stung more than the cuts and bruises they’d earned. Draco’s aversion to violence was clear, his face showing the lingering effects of his trauma (as he had been informed prior). Remus shook his head and released his grip on them, but the tension between Harry and Draco still simmered just beneath the surface.
"Let’s get you two cleaned up," Remus said, guiding them away from the scene of their brawl. Neither boy said a word, but the animosity between them lingered, ready to resurface at the slightest spark.
~.~
Lily’s anger surged as she approached the Malfoy manor once again, fueled by a deep concern for her son. Remus' letter had ignited a storm of emotions: disappointment, pity, and a burning rage, all interwoven with a plea for understanding. As she and James read through it, dread gripped them; they feared something terrible had occurred between their son and the Malfoys, or worse, that the Malfoys’ influence had seeped into their lives. It was time for the princess to confront this head-on.
Severus stood waiting just outside the grand entrance, his expression unreadable. He opened his mouth to speak, but Lily brushed past him, the heavy doors swinging open with a loud thud.
“Lord Lucius!” she nearly screamed, her commanding voice echoing off the manor’s walls. “Where is my son?”
Moments later, the sharp click of heels approached. She turned to see Narcissa, her expression strained, with Lucius trailing behind her. Both wore the weariness of a couple caught in a storm of their own making.
“Princess Lily, I think we should—” Narcissa began.
“Where is my son?” Lily interrupted, her impatience palpable.
Narcissa offered a strained smile, though her eyes revealed the truth. “He’s with Draco and Remus at the moment, but perhaps we could have some tea first? You’ve had a long journey.”
“I need to see my son now,” Lily insisted, her voice unwavering. Last time she was in this manor, she had felt the sting of subtle insults, and this time, she would not allow their arrogance to tarnish her son’s spirit.
A fierce look hardened her features, contrasting sharply with Narcissa’s anxious demeanor. Lucius remained silent, sensing that any words from him would only worsen the situation.
Severus, ever the mediator, stepped in. “Princess Lily, you should consider hearing their perspective first. After all, it was Prince Harry who threw the first punch at young Master Draco.”
It was true. Remus’ letter had mentioned Harry striking Draco, but that was only after the blonde had relentlessly provoked him.
In tense silence, they moved to the living room, where the maids had already prepared tea, steam swirling in the air like the tension between them.
“My Harry has never punched another child before—until Draco,” Lily said, her focus unwavering as they settled down. “Surely, Draco must have provoked him.”
The three exchanged solemn glances, their concern evident.
“Draco has never reacted like this before, but I can’t deny that Harry has had his share of sharp words,” Narcissa admitted, her gaze fixed on her untouched tea. Lucius remained silent, his lips pressed tight around his cup, avoiding the conversation.
“What exactly did Harry say?” Lily pressed, her tone demanding clarity.
“He’d been calling Draco feminine and relating it to an omega which my son didn’t like being teased with. Mr. Lupin had confirmed that Harry was calling him ‘omega’ in a derogatory manner as well,” Narcissa weakly answered, her voice barely above a whisper. “Draco hasn’t been told of his possible fate. He’s just a child, he doesn’t need to know that yet.”
“But my son is not the one who should be ashamed here,” Lily asserted, her frustration bubbling beneath the surface. “Harry might have correlated femininity with being an omega but to say that I’m a scheming person because I’m an omega? That’s a different story.”
“Yet Draco’s behavior needs context,” Snape interjected, surprising Lily with his defense of the young Malfoy. Both children were wrong in his eyes but neither mother would completely accept that their respective sons had faults.
“Context? Is that supposed to excuse him?” Lily shot back, her voice rising.
“Draco was not himself,” Narcissa pleaded, her tone desperate. “He acted out in a moment of anger that wasn’t directed solely at Harry.”
Lily narrowed her eyes, the heat of the conversation igniting her spirit. “Was it true? Did Draco insult me and use my omega status against my son? Was that part of his cruel words? It’s unconscionable that your son would stoop to such levels.”
“I cannot lie to you, Princess Lily. My Draco made a grievous error in judgment,” Narcissa replied, her voice shaking slightly.
“An error that carries weight,” Lily bit back, her disappointment palpable.
“Children, at their age, are incredibly impressionable. They learn from adults and what they see from the people surrounding them,” Narcissa explained slowly, trying to gather her thoughts. “Draco’s poor choice of words stemmed from a place of frustration and confusion. We’ve all worked hard to teach him better.”
“If children are reflections of the adults they’re surrounded by, then why were Draco’s words so laced with insensitivity?” Lily pressed, her tone sharp, as she implied a deeper disdain for the prejudices that might have been passed down.
Draco’s use of her omega status as an insult stung deeply. In Godric, she and James had cultivated an accepting community for omegas, making it even more disheartening to realize the Malfoys might harbor such elitist views. Their possible influence of bigotry against omegas would reverse their work, and it wasn’t the change James had been fighting for. She wasn’t going to let the Malfoys take that away from them.
“Draco…” Narcissa began after a moment of grueling silence, her voice faltering. “Two months ago, he witnessed Lord Davies’ youngest daughter being assaulted.”
The revelation shook Lily to her core. “What do you mean?” she breathed, her heart racing.
“We had to give him the talk because… because the alpha was in a dazed rut, and Draco was terrified. He saw things no child should ever witness,” Narcissa continued, struggling to keep her composure. “My baby was scared.”
Lily felt her heart crack open at the thought of young Draco witnessing such horror. But her protectiveness for Harry remained fierce. “But using that trauma to hurt another child? That isn’t an excuse.”
Narcissa couldn’t finish her thoughts, frustration and sorrow swirling within her. The weight of their worlds pressed down, leaving them at a crossroads where understanding and pain collided.
Sensing his wife’s frustrations, Lucius finally spoke up. “We had to tell Draco that alphas could be irresponsible on certain days and that omegas were ‘weak’ to their obstinate desires. I suppose those were the wrong words to teach a child given what he did.”
Suddenly, Lily found herself questioning whether it was her place to criticize Draco’s behavior. She realized that she couldn’t change how he felt, and she hoped that the Malfoys, Severus, and Remus were all doing their best to help both boys reshape their understanding of what it meant to be an omega.
“Please know I don’t hold any ill will against Draco,” she assured them, her tone softening. “This was just a misunderstanding, and I’m grateful we had the chance to talk it through.” Just then, Remus entered, announcing that the children had something for them. Moments later, Harry and Draco walked in, hands intertwined, each holding a letter.
Without hesitation, Harry jumped into his mother’s lap, joy lighting up his face, while Draco approached more hesitantly, shame evident in his demeanor.
They had written letters the night before. Harry handed his to Narcissa, who looked surprised by the gesture. In his letter, he apologized for hitting Draco and promised it wouldn’t happen again. Draco then presented his letter to Princess Lily, which also contained an apology and a vow to stop mocking Harry or her.
In truth, Lily had been seeking a reason to end their engagement. She had hoped this incident would provide the perfect opportunity to return to James and explain how irresponsible the Malfoys were, how their worlds were simply too different for Harry to ever be with Draco. But as she watched the two innocent boys walk in, their faces devoid of hatred, she began to realize that perhaps she had exaggerated the situation in her mind. It seemed that Narcissa and Lucius had indeed taken steps to help Draco unlearn his bigotry.
Children often find it easier to resolve conflicts; they may not fully grasp the gravity of their actions, but to them, a simple apology can clear the air, and life continues as if nothing had changed. Just like that, the two boys dashed off with the maids, encouraged by Remus to bond over hawthorn picking. They were promised delicious pies in return.
Lily smiled softly as she watched Draco rise from his seat and shyly approach her from the other side of the table, offering her a slice of pie after being prompted by Severus. He then turned to thank Harry for gathering the fruit, explaining that he hadn’t been able to harvest as much as Harry, so it was practically the latter that got the fruits.
“Always express gratitude to the host or those who prepared the meal,” Severus instructed the young boy, who listened intently, eyes wide with understanding.
Perhaps Draco wasn’t such a bad kid after all. He needed guidance, yes, but he was learning.
___
November that year
Narcissa decided it was time to teach the boys how to waltz. At seven years old, she fondly remembered learning the basics of the dance at their age. Although both boys were familiar with it (Harry attending royal balls and Draco tagging along with his father in ministry and charity balls), they shared a sense of boredom during their first joint lesson—a rarity in their usual rivalry.
As expected from a true Malfoy, Draco excelled in the waltz, even while feigning interest. Despite the slow, painstaking pace, he maintained perfect posture, matched the tempo flawlessly, and moved with a grace that made it look effortless. Harry, on the other hand, managed the form well, his soft skill from weaponry training coming into play, but he consistently misstepped, often landing on Draco’s shoes.
“Ow!” Draco exclaimed, pulling his foot away and shooting a pout at his mother.
“Sorry,” Harry mumbled for what felt like the hundredth time. Not giving Draco another opportunity to complain, he took his partner's hand and repositioned his arm on Draco’s lower shoulder blade, determined to complete the routine and move on.
“Stop staring at your feet, Prince Harry,” Narcissa gently scolded.
“But if I don’t, I’ll step on Draco again!”
“Just let your body guide you,” she advised, though Harry struggled to grasp what she meant by that.
“Ugh, you’re hopeless,” Draco huffed, his patience wearing thin.
“I’m trying!”
“Can we hurry up? I want to see those ‘hollyberies’!” Draco whined, his boredom palpable.
“Hellebores,” Harry corrected, a hint of pride in his voice. While Draco might excel in naming constellations, Harry had a knack for identifying flowers. An ironic twist, considering Narcissa’s pride in her garden, yet Draco barely knew a fraction of the plant names blooming there.
Harry had learned from a picture book his mother had gifted him from his birthday that hellebores typically bloomed in November, and he eagerly anticipated seeing the flowers in the Malfoy garden. To him, it was the ultimate garden in all of Hogwarts. So far, he had spotted eight out of the seventeen flowers listed in his book that bloomed this month, making it his side quest to find every one during his stay.
While Narcissa’s garden boasted a wealth of trees, shrubs, and flowers, it certainly didn’t contain every flower in existence, especially not a toxic one like hellebores.
Narcissa and Remus found their little flower-spotting adventure endearing, even giving them an hour each day aside from their lessons for the boys to explore. They often watched from the windows, sometimes joined by Severus, amused by the boys' determination.
What the adults found particularly charming was how Harry and Draco never bothered to ask if a flower was already in the garden before embarking on their quest; they simply went out to confirm its existence for themselves.
With the book clutched in his hands, Harry led the way, while Draco trailed behind, dressed in his finest gardening attire—eager to fit in, despite his lack of actual gardening experience. Sometimes, he took his etiquette lessons a bit too literally.
Their bickering continued, of course. On one particular outing, while searching for winter jasmines, Draco nearly gave up, whining about thorns that had scratched his arm and were becoming unbearably itchy.
“Come on, Draco! We can’t give up now!” Harry urged, his determination unwavering.
Eventually, they stumbled upon the winter jasmines growing along the far fence, well hidden from the garden entrance. It was in that moment Draco first learned the value of patience.
___
May next year unfolded much like the previous ones, with familiar lessons. Harry honing his weaponry skills with Remus while Draco practiced his equestrian techniques. Their lighthearted bickering echoing through the manor in between lessons still. They continued their flower-hunting adventures as well, though this year brought a new insistence from Lucius: Draco needed to wear more sun protection, as his freckles were multiplying. Lucius was determined to preserve his son’s pristine beauty, a hallmark of the Malfoy lineage.
This year also marked a new milestone for Harry, as he began to advance in archery. Remus recognized that Harry's swordsmanship was progressing rapidly and felt it was the right moment to simultaneously enhance the prince's archery skills as well.
Harry often shared stories about his friend back in Godric, a boy named Ronald, whom he affectionately called Ron. He painted a picture of Ron as fun-loving and always hungry. Ron's father, Arthur, worked in the ministry like Lucius and was a member of the House of Gryffindor—a social club for royals, renowned artists, athletes, ministers, and distinguished academics. This gathering served as a casual excuse for like-minded individuals to share ideas over beers while discussing the betterment of the kingdom.
Among the friends Harry had made was Hermione, the daughter of two dedicated dental practitioners. Despite dentistry being a field not widely respected, Hermione's parents were determined to change perceptions by emphasizing its importance. They aimed to pioneer methods to tackle the rampant issue of toothaches, focusing on herbal remedies rather than relying on superstitions or prayers. Princess Lily had been instrumental in helping them understand the effects of various herbs, and they were committed to finding lasting solutions rather than mere temporary fixes.
"Quite an ambitious bunch," Draco thought, intrigued.
Their presence in the House of Gryffindor was welcomed due to the club’s embrace of innovation. Dentistry was still a nascent science in the kingdom, and King James had a penchant for scientific advancement over magical traditions. Since magic in their realm was largely reserved for the elite, often providing little benefit to the common people beyond extravagant gifts for royals, the king believed that expanding scientific knowledge could genuinely improve lives. He saw understanding science as a more effective alternative to leaving matters solely in the hands of fate or prayer.
Quite the antithesis of the traditionalists Sons of Salazar Slytherin.
Harry described Hermione as exceptionally smart, someone who introduced him to vocabulary he didn’t even know existed. He even suggested that she and Draco would get along well, both possessing sharp minds.
In November that year, the boys faced their upcoming test in waltz lessons with a mix of excitement and trepidation. Lucius was hosting a grand party at the manor to celebrate the kingdom’s businesses and express gratitude for a prosperous year. The event promised to be a valuable opportunity for networking, allowing merchants and dignitaries to connect over drinks while exploring trade partnerships beyond the kingdom’s borders. It was a perfect blend of business and pleasure.
The grand Malfoy Manor was abuzz with preparations for Lucius' much-anticipated party. The ballroom, adorned with sparkling chandeliers and draped in rich velvet, shimmered like a jewel. Narcissa, with her innate sense of elegance, was determined that her son and Harry would showcase their waltz skills to the guests.
“Alright, boys! Time to practice!” Narcissa clapped her hands, her smile brightening the spacious room. “We need to make sure you’re both ready for the party. It’s 3 nights from now, so there’s plenty of time to refine.”
Draco stood with his arms crossed, a playful smirk on his face. “Ready to see me outshine you again?” he teased, tilting his head.
Harry shot back with a grin, “In your dreams! Just try not to trip over your own feet!”
“Me? Trip? You’re the one who’ll be stepping on toes!” Draco laughed, twirling slightly as if to demonstrate his grace.
“Only if you dance like a clumsy troll!” Harry replied, puffing out his chest in mock bravado.
Narcissa, trying to keep the focus, instructed them to take their places. “Remember, posture and timing. Let’s start with the basics. One, two, three… and spin!”
As they began their practice, Draco moved with the confidence of someone who had been trained since birth. “See? This is how a real prince dances,” he said, gliding smoothly across the floor, still holding it above Harry’s head that he was the real prince of the manor.
Harry, meanwhile, was determined to keep up. “Well, I’m going to be the best dancer in the kingdom! Just you wait!” He attempted a spin but stumbled slightly. “Oops! Just testing the floor!”
Draco snickered. “Testing? More like falling!”
“Let’s see you do better, then!” Harry challenged, his eyes sparkling with competitive spirit.
As they continued, Narcissa encouraged them. “Good! That’s it! Keep your focus, boys! You both have such potential!”
Lucius walked into the ballroom to check on them, his presence immediately chilling the atmosphere. He crossed his arms, surveying the scene with a disapproving frown, especially aimed at Harry. “Is this what we’re showcasing tonight?” he said, his tone icy. “Remember, important men and women in the kingdom are here to watch you, Prince Harry.” He most especially wouldn’t look forward to their guests thinking they didn’t do a good job on shaping the prince into a better gentleman, considering their reputation for upholding the kingdom’s traditional principles.
Harry felt a lump in his throat but tried to brush it off. “I can dance well! I’ll do well, sir!”
“Let’s not embarrass ourselves,” Lucius replied curtly, his gaze flicking back to Draco. “Focus on your technique, son.”
Draco’s expression faltered for a moment under his father’s gaze but quickly turned back to determination. “I’ll be the best, Father. You’ll see!” He shot Harry a quick smile, the competitive spark reigniting. “Just don’t mess it up, Harry.”
Remus ended up giving up his lessons with Harry to help the poor lad better his waltzing. It’s not like he cared if Harry tripped every now and then but Lucius wouldn’t let the boy rest until he got it right, so he took the liberty of giving extra lessons to the prince. There was a lot of playing in between but eventually he did get to teach what Harry needed to learn to not miss his steps anymore.
As the party day arrived, both boys found themselves positioned on the grand staircase, peering down at the guests milling about below. “Look at them,” Harry said, pointing to a group of adults deep in conversation. “They’re all so… grown-up.”
Draco squinted. “They’re just talking about boring stuff. We’re not allowed to talk to them yet. It’s all politics and nonsense.” He sighed dramatically.
Harry, his green eyes grazing over the well-suited guests mingling below, breathed out in awe. “Yeah, but that’s going to be me someday. Arthur told me once this is what a prince does. Kings rule the kingdom while princes dance.”
Draco smirked, leaning against the banister. “And what makes you think they’ll want to watch you? You’ve still got a lot to learn.”
“Learn? Please! I’ve already got the moves,” Harry shot back, puffing out his chest. “You just wish you could dance as well as I can.”
“I can dance circles around you!” Draco exclaimed, a competitive glint in his eyes. “Just wait until tonight. Everyone will see who the real dancer is. And who the real prince is too!”
Harry rolled his eyes, a behavior he picked up from the blond. “I wish we could show off our dancing right now! Then they’d come to like us.”
“Yeah, but if we go down there, they’ll just think we’re little kids,” Harry said, fidgeting with the hem of his berry suit. “They probably won’t even care about us.”
“Why not? We’re the best dancers here!” Draco delusionally insisted, crossing his arms defiantly. “Well, at least I am. You’re getting there.”
“Ha! You just want to be seen as the star,” Harry teased, nudging him playfully. “But I’ll take my chance to shine, thank you very much.”
“Pfft! As if!” Draco countered, nudging Harry playfully. “I’ll make sure to outshine you by a mile!” With their playful banter hanging in the air, the boys exchanged eager glances, the same look on their faces when they find the flower in Harry’s books. The anticipation of the night filled them with a shared excitement.
Narcissa’s voice called from below, urging them to come down. “It’s time, boys! Get ready!”
With a shared glance of excitement and nerves, they both took a deep breath and began their descent down the grand staircase, their hearts racing in unison. As they reached the bottom, the chatter among the guests faded into an expectant hush, all eyes fixed on the pair. The air was thick with anticipation, the whispers of gossip swirling around the room. Everyone had heard the rumors of a union between the young Malfoy and the crown prince. Yet, witnessing them together in the flesh, moving gracefully across the ballroom with Harry’s hand clasped around Draco’s, brought a different kind of energy to the moment.
As they took their positions on the ballroom floor, Narcissa arranged them, her eyes glinting with pride. “Remember everything we practiced. Just have fun!”
With the music beginning to swell, Harry felt the familiar rhythm take hold. He glanced at Draco, who wore a determined expression. They began the waltz, moving gracefully across the floor.
Harry focused intently, keeping his posture straight and his steps light. He spun with confidence, the thrill of the dance filling him with joy. “Look! No mistakes!” he exclaimed as they finished a particularly tricky sequence.
Draco’s eyes widened with genuine admiration, despite the twinge of jealousy that crept in. “You actually did it!” he said, his voice tinged with surprise. “I thought you’d mess up!”
As they finished, guests began to notice them, whispering and clapping in approval. “Look at those boys! Such talent!” “They dance like little princes!”
Harry beamed at the compliments, a swell of pride filling him. But then he caught sight of the guests’ intense focus on him, and his heart sank slightly. A quick glance at Draco revealed a tight smile on his friend’s face. Something that Harry recognized all too well. It was the kind of smile Draco wore when he was upset, the one he maintained in front of Lucius, only to let his true feelings surface in private moments of vulnerability.
“Hey, you did great too!” Harry said, trying to ease the tension. “You were amazing!”
Draco crossed his arms, his face a mask of faux indifference. “Yeah, well… they’re just being nice to you because you’re the royal family’s kid,” he muttered, unable to hide the jealousy creeping into his voice.
“They like us both! They’re just impressed that I didn’t mess up!” Harry insisted, but the more he spoke, the more he felt Draco’s frustration.
“Whatever,” Draco replied, turning away slightly. “Let’s just eat. I’m tired of dancing anyway.”
Before Harry could respond, he spotted the refreshment table, laden with an array of delicious treats. “Wait! How about we go get some chocolate cake?” he suggested, hoping to lighten the mood.
“Chocolate cake?” Draco’s eyes lit up, the earlier annoyance dissipating almost instantly.
“Race you to the table!” Harry shouted, bolting forward, with Draco right on his heels. The adults around them parted, laughter ringing out as they darted past, their giggles echoing through the ballroom.
As they reached the table, the sight of the rich, decadent chocolate cake stole their breath away, momentarily eclipsing their earlier rivalry. “Look at that!” Harry exclaimed, eyes wide and mouth watering.
“Let’s grab the biggest pieces!” Draco grinned, his excitement infectious.
With their plates piled high with cake, any lingering tensions melted away, replaced by the sweetness of friendship and the sound of their laughter. “Next time, I won’t let you steal the spotlight!” Draco declared playfully, taking a generous bite of cake.
“Bring it on!” Harry replied, chuckling as chocolate smeared across his cheek.
In that moment, their rivalry subdued, lost in the sheer joy of chocolate and the warmth of their blossoming friendship.
~.~
“I see that young Malfoy is getting along with the prince,” Ethelbert hummed, his eyes twinkling as he watched the two boys devour chocolate cake, Severus keeping a watchful eye on them from a distance.
The old man had invited himself to the manor upon hearing of Narcissa’s plans to showcase the boys’ waltz, a delightful treat for the nobles and wealthy businessmen of the kingdom’s future.
“They bicker far too much,” Lucius muttered, his irritation barely hidden. “But I suppose that’s just typical child behavior. What troubles me is how the prince's antics seem to have rubbed off on Draco.”
“Haven’t you ever bickered with anyone, Lucius?” Ethelbert mused, a sly grin on his face.
“Not like this,” Lucius replied tersely. “These kids are having fist fights.”
Ethelbert wrinkled his nose. “A disgusting trait, I believe he inherited from his nonconformist parents.”
“Had the princess come barging in here because of it. I’d much rather not have the princess in my manor,” Lucius said, a frown etching deeper into his features. “I do wish that brute would avoid going for the jugular like Draco is some kind of hog for their practice hunting.”
“How did young Draco respond to the situation?” Ethelbert asked, leaning in with keen interest. Although the incident had occurred some time ago, the Sons of Salazar Slytherin were a notoriously secretive group, rarely meeting to avoid revealing their identities or locations. Establishing a pattern could jeopardize their operations, making every detail all the more crucial.
“All we know is that Harry threw the first punch and Draco retaliated,” Lucius said, his gaze fixed on his son, who got cookies for him and the prince. “But we managed to get past it. Harry, for the most part, has behaved well after the incident. He even wrote a letter to apologize to Narcissa, something he generally despises. Writing, I mean.”
“He’s learning from your influences,” Ethelbert remarked, nodding toward Lucius, whose gaze was fixed intently on Draco. “If this continues, we’ll have an indirect member of the Sons nestled within the royal family. But remember, this arrangement is still tentative. I don’t care how you do it, just find a way to win over Lily. Make them happy enough to agree to the marriage.”
Lucius narrowed his eyes. “I doubt it will come to that.” His bitterness was palpable. Draco, the first omega in the Malfoy lineage, was at the center of everyone’s plans. The idea of giving his son to the royal family, simply because they all believed Draco would end up as an omega, gnawed at him. And the commoner—Draco’s involvement with Harry only added fuel to Lucius’ resentment. He was toying with Draco’s future, his son being molded for political gain. Dammit, the whole thing was infuriating. But despite his frustration, Lucius knew he couldn’t defy the order of the Sons, not when they collectively believed this was for the good of the kingdom.
“And why not?” Ethelbert chuckled. “Wouldn't that be quite the coup?”
Lucius remained stoic, his lips pressed into a thin line.
“Let’s not talk about that,” he growled, irritation creeping into his voice.
“About what?” Ethelbert raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence.
“About Draco like that,” Lucius sighed, gripping his cane tightly. “He’s just a child.”
“If you’re upset about discussing his future, rest assured, I’m handling it with the utmost care,” Ethelbert said, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
Lucius shot him a glare, frustration simmering beneath his composed exterior. Ethelbert’s schemes and opinions weighed heavily on him, and the implications of the boys' relationship felt even more unsettling.
The laughter and chatter of the party swirled around Lucius, yet he felt increasingly isolated. His gaze returned to Draco and Harry, who were laughing and playfully shoving each other, their rivalry momentarily forgotten in the innocence of childhood joy.
It should have brought him comfort, but instead, it only deepened his resentment. Standing amidst the celebration, Lucius felt utterly alone, silently cursing Ethelbert’s manipulation of his son’s future and the storm of complications looming on the horizon.