Harry Potter The Long Lost Malfoy

"You are to write to us every week."

Mr. Malfoy still sounded sterner than Harry thought he meant to. Healer Letham would probably say he was trying. Harry could try, too. So he nodded and said, "Yes, Father," managing to put in the word "Father" for "sir" at the last moment.

Mr. Malfoy eyed him for a moment, and then dropped abruptly to give Harry a hug. Harry stood frozen for a second before he hugged him back. Behind them, the Hogwarts Express gave a long, urgent call.

"You know I love you," Mr. Malfoy whispered into his ear.

And Harry had to nod, because he did know. He didn't think it was the kind of love that he would have got from the Potters, but it wasn't like he really remembered them, or thought of them the same way after knowing what they'd done.

He was probably going to take a long time to figure out who he really was, and that would just have to be what he lived with.

"Henry, come on!" yelled Draco from the train, practically hopping up and down, waving his hand to hurry him along.

"Go and see your brother," Mr. Malfoy said, and released Harry with a lingering touch to his forehead. To his scar? Harry didn't know. "And don't hold it against your mother that she couldn't bear to see you off. She'll see you next weekend, after your first session with your Healer."

Harry nodded. He honestly understood why Mrs. Malfoy hadn't wanted to see Harry go away. Even if they would see each other so soon that the thought practically made Harry's head spin. Even when he'd dreamed about having parents, he hadn't thought he would be so different from the other kids at Hogwarts that he would get to spend this much time with them.

"Henry!"

"Go," Mr. Malfoy said softly, and didn't stop watching as Harry scrambled onto the Express to join his twin.

Harry waved back to him, as Draco was enthusiastically doing, and noted that Mr. Malfoy never looked away as the train sped off, turning a little as though he could follow it all the way to Hogwarts.

.....

Sitting in the last compartment with the sleeping man who had Remus J. Lupin on his trunk had seemed like a good idea at the time, after Harry had said hello to Ron and Hermione. As Draco had said, if they tried to sit with both sets of their friends, they'd just be in the middle of a fight. And Harry had recognized the man's name from Sirius's story and had been interested to see what would happen if he woke up and talked.

But then it all started to go wrong. Because they had only played two games of Exploding Snap when Draco looked over at Lupin and sniffed.

"Imagine, having clothes that shabby!" he said, in what he probably thought was a soft voice. But Draco often had delusions about things like that. "And that trunk—it might have come from the war with Grindelwald."

"You shut up."

Draco stared at him. "What?"

"You. Shut. Up." Harry spoke really quietly, but he could feel the rage brewing in the middle of his chest. Even he was surprised at how strong it was, but it was. "You have no idea what it's like. To be poor, and just happy that you have clothes. Even if the clothes don't fit. And possessions at all, even if they aren't new."

"The Muggles," Draco said, with more understanding than Harry had expected him to show. But then he ruined it again. "But that doesn't matter. You were never really poor, you were one of us. And he's not."

"So what?" Harry demanded. "Do you have to hate everyone who's poorer than you?"

"No. I just think they aren't as good as us."

Harry shook his head. "They can be as good or as bad, Draco. Having money has nothing to do with who you are as a person."

Draco blinked. "Yes, it does. Of course it does. It makes you more capable of holding intelligent conversations and—"

"What a load of rubbish, Malfoy."

Ron and Hermione had slipped into the compartment, and Harry smiled gratefully at them. He didn't know what Draco had been about to say, and he didn't know how he would have reacted. "Hey! Did you get bored sitting with the other Gryffindors?"

Hermione snorted and sat down on Harry's other side, ignoring the way Draco and Ron were glaring at each other. "Neville was fine. He has interesting things to say about Herbology, if anyone ever thought to listen. But Seamus was trying to light a Cauldron Cake on fire, and Dean was encouraging him. And all Parvati and Lavender want to talk about is some Quidditch player who got caught cheating on his wife."

"People with money aren't inherently more intelligent, Malfoy!"

"But they have greater sophistication, Weasley. If you paid the least bit of attention to history—"

"The history where your dad was a Death Eater?"

Draco's face turned a bright and shiny pink, and he leaped up. "You take that back! He was under the Imperius! Everyone knows it!"

Ron laughed loudly enough that people on the other side of the planet probably heard him. Harry winced. "Only everyone who hasn't taken his bribes. That's another thing money does, it makes you—"

"Why is it so cold?"

Harry blinked and turned to look at Hermione. She was rubbing her arms with both hands, her eyes wide. When she glanced at Harry, he saw that her lips were blue. And then she breathed out, and a cloud of her breath went up in front of them.

"Why is it?" Draco said, sounding surprised.

....

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