He had a godfather!  One that wasn’t a deranged, psychopathic, homicidal maniac who had been responsible for the death of his parents and was now out to kill him as well.  One that would have been more than happy to take him away from Snape and his damp and musty dungeon every summer. One that liked him, at least for now. That in itself was enough to send Harry into a happy daze for hours on end and it just made it better that Snape hated Sirius, because now anytime Snape was nasty to him, Harry started talking about Sirius.  Not that Snape found Sirius threatening per say, but hearing about him in any capacity made the Potion Master’s eye twitch.  With all this, Harry was hard pressed to think about anything downtrodden or depressing.

For instance, every time he started to remember Draco bloody Malfoy and the way the Slytherin prat had spent the entire year making fun of him for fainting, all he had to do was think about the way Sirius had asked if he wanted to come live with him.  Or, when he had to eat meals with Snape and the man was picking on him about his table manners, he only had to remember how bright and exotic the birds were that had delivered Sirius’ letters.

It had only been one week, but already it was a perfect summer.  Well, until Dumbledore had told him ‘the news’.  He knew that something very big was going to be happening at the school next term, as it was hard to miss the countless strangers traipsing around it and the endless meetings that Dumbledore had to attend, but so far everyone was insisting that it be kept a surprise.  It had been nice that the castle wasn’t as dead quiet as it usually was during the summer, even if Harry didn’t get to talk to the people beyond saying hello.

When the Headmaster had called him to his office early one Wednesday morning, Harry had hoped that he was going to find out what all the fuss was about.  Instead, he had walked in to find a tall blond woman with sharp features and a very cold air about her, sitting in front of Dumbledore’s desk.

Harry stepped in tentatively, afraid that he’d walked in on a meeting, but Dumbledore had nodded to him and held one of his hands out to the empty chair.  The woman had given Harry a very tight smile before looking back at the headmaster, “As I was saying, with the Quidditch World cup this summer, not to mention…” she stopped herself and glanced at Harry again, “other things, my husband is going to be out of the country for quite some time and I would much rather have my son home with me.  I do so hate being alone, you see.”

From the look of her, Harry didn’t doubt that alone was how she would prefer to spend a great deal of her time.  She didn’t radiate the warmth of a mother like Molly Weasley, or the comfort of Professor McGonagall.  She felt distant and seemed a great deal more interested in looking around the office than she did in what she was actually saying.  Not that Harry cared.  If it meant he didn’t have to put up the Draco, he’d be polite to her; hell, he’d damn well curtsey if that’s what she wanted.

Dumbledore smiled pleasantly, though it didn’t reach his eyes.  “I understand completely, Mrs. Malfoy.”  He moved something on his desk, a small globe that was giving off a faint yellow glow, and the glow wavered and turned white as it shifted closer to Harry.  “I’ve already spoken with Mr. Malfoy and I see no reason why Harry cannot spend part of the summer at Malfoy Manor.  Although, I’ll need assurance that no harm will come to him under your roof.”

What?!

“But, of course, whatever you need.”

Wait one bloody minute!

“Headmaster?”

Dumbledore looked at Harry and smiled warmly, “Lemon drop, Harry?”

“No, thank you.  Only what did you mean I’ll be staying over at Malfoy Manor this summer?”  It couldn’t possibly be what it sounded like, it just couldn’t.

“Only for a few weeks, Harry, but it will give us time to get a few things done without you snooping about.”  The blue eyes were twinkling in good humour, but Harry still had the decency to blush.  “Mrs. Malfoy, you will have to excuse me for being rude.  This is our illustrious Harry Potter.  Harry, my boy, this is Draco’s mother, Narcissa Malfoy.”

Narcissa held out her hand and Harry shook it.  She snapped it back sharply and then smiled, covering the reaction as best she could.  “Harry, when meeting a lady, it is proper to kiss her hand, not shake it.”

He mumbled an apology and refrained from saying that when he finally met a lady, he would be sure to do just that.  Narcissa put her pale hand back in her lap and Harry watched as she discretely wiped it on her skirt.  “It might be beneficial if he were to stay longer.  I could teach him proper etiquette,” She looked at his worn clothes, “among other things.”  Harry tried not to pout, though he was beginning to feel sorry for Draco.  If he had to spend his time with his father and this woman, it was no small wonder that he had turned out the way he was.  Harry was in fact very surprised he hadn’t turned out worse.

Dumbledore shook his head.  “I think it would be best if he got back to the castle before his birthday.  We have a tradition to uphold.”

She raised one thin eyebrow in interest, “Really?”

“Quite.  Every year on his birthday, Harry, Hagrid and I have cake down in the kitchen with the house elves.  Of course, you and your family are welcome to join us, if you’d like.”

Harry had to bite his tongue to keep from laughing.  He was going to have to change his definition of what someone who was scandalised looked like.  Her eyes had gone too large and her mouth opened just slightly, then pursed tightly closed.  Her hands clenched a tuft of skirt in her lap and she took a very deep breath, broadening her shoulders.

“No, I don’t think that will be necessary.  I have… or I will have functions to attend, I’m sure, and Lucius should be home by then.”  She nodded to Dumbledore and then to Harry, “He’ll be coming via floo, correct?”

Dumbledore nodded, “In one week, as I discussed with your husband.”

She turned around and left, her flowing robes sweeping just above the floor.  As he watched her go, the situation sank in and Harry crossed his arms over his chest, glaring at the floor.  This was so entirely unfair.  If he went to the Malfoy’s, he wouldn’t be able to write letters to Sirius.  If he went to the Malfoy’s there would be no escape from Draco.  If he…

“Harry?”

He looked up suddenly, having momentarily forgotten that Dumbledore was there.  “Yes, sir?”

“You appear concerned.”

Harry tried to fight back a frown and lost, “I’m not really sure I want to go to Malfoy Manor.”

Dumbledore’s smile softened, “I won’t pretend that I won’t be disappointed, but if you would prefer to stay here, I will not make you go.”

He thought about.  He thought about Draco’s pointy face and having to listen to that annoying voice all summer.  He thought about the way Draco was always going on about how things were so much better at the Manor and how there was much more to do and everything was grander and much more lavishly decorated.  He thought about Draco dragging him around the house, showing him everything that he thought was superior to Hogwarts.  He thought about how much he was going to hate it.  Then, he made the mistake of thinking about Dumbledore’s disappointed face.

“I’ll go, sir.  It’s only for two weeks and maybe it’ll be fun.”  He had to bite his tongue to keep from adding ‘but I doubt it.’

Dumbledore beamed at him, “Very good, Harry.  That is not, in fact, the only reason I sent for you.  I received a letter from Mrs. Molly Weasley late last evening and I wanted to discuss it with you.”

When he didn’t continue right away, Harry sat forward a little, “What kind of letter, sir?”  He was suddenly very worried that the Weasleys wouldn’t want him hanging out with Ron anymore.  He had dragged Ron into that whole mess with Sirius and he’d thrown Snape across a room to keep him from turning in a dangerous convict.  Minding, of course, that Sirius was innocent, but did that really matter in the long run?

Dumbledore, however, didn’t look upset or concerned.  In fact, his eyes were dancing with laughter behind his half-moon spectacles.  “The good kind, I should think.  You are aware, of course, that the Quidditch World Cup is being held in England this year?”

He nodded.  Everyone had been talking about it before school finished and Seamus had been telling anyone who would listen that he would be going to cheer for the Irish National Team.  It was very exciting and Harry wished he could go, but even if he’d had tickets he didn’t think Dumbledore would allow him to leave the castle alone to go to a large sporting event.

“It seems that the Weasleys have acquired tickets and they would like you to come with them.”

The words didn’t sink in right away, but when they did, Harry’s face began to split into a large grin, “Really, sir?”

“Yes, you’ll be flooing to their home the day before the game and staying for the rest of the summer.”

It was all Harry could do to stay in his seat.  All thoughts of having to go to Malfoy Manor were purged from his mind at the prospect of going to the Quidditch World Cup.  “Thank you, sir!”

“Don’t thank me, Harry, thank the Weasleys, they seem very fond of you.”  Harry’s grin broadened.  “Now, go and have fun and I’ll see you at noon.  I take it you’re not adverse to the idea of having lunch with an old fogy such as myself?”

“Never, Professor!”  He stood up and practically ran from the room.  In only a few short weeks, he would be going to the Quidditch World Cup.

 

____________________

 

Of course, before he went to the Quidditch World Cup, he had to survive Malfoy Manor for two weeks and then another two with Draco at Hogwarts.  He hadn’t really thought much about it until the day before he had to leave.  He’d started packing and just as he threw his beat up trainers into his trunk, it occurred to him exactly what he was getting into.

He would be at Malfoy Manor.  Hadn’t Hagrid said that Lucius Malfoy was a supporter of Voldemort?  Wasn’t it a tad bit dangerous to leave him alone and unprotected in the home of Lucius Malfoy, even if Lucius wasn’t going to be there?

Things hadn’t looked any better the next morning, when he was sitting in Dumbledore’s office, eyeing the fireplace.  The Headmaster was at his desk, looking intently at a thin, dangly bracelet.  Finally, he seemed satisfied and looked up.  “Come around here, Harry.”

The Headmaster took his hand and put the bracelet in it.  “I need you to listen to me very carefully, Harry.”  Harry nodded.  “That is an emergency portkey.  Wear it around your ankle and if you are in danger, touch the clasp and say the word ‘remeo’ and it will bring you back here, to my office, where you are to wait for my return.  I’ll know that you’re here.”

Harry nodded and looked at the gold chain coiled in his hand before kneeling down to clasp it around his ankle.  He felt a little safer as he tugged on it to make sure it wouldn’t come off.

Dumbledore looked at it and smiled, but it was a strained smile at best.  “I know you may not understand why it is necessary for you to go, but I am very pleased with you for agreeing to stay at Malfoy Manor.  That having been said, there were a few agreements made between the Malfoys and myself that you should be aware of.  You are not to come to any harm while in their home.  They are not to punish you in any way, regardless of what they think you may have done, and you are not to leave the property.”

Harry thought that seemed rather normal, but the grave set of Dumbledore’s face kept him from saying so.  “Also, and this was not in the agreement, but it is important none-the-less.  I have been assured that Lucius Malfoy will not be home during the time you are there.  Should he arrive, you are to be especially cautious.  If it even appears that he means you harm, you are to use the portkey.  Do you understand?”

Harry thought it seemed a lot of fuss over such a simple instruction.  He was nearly fourteen and he wasn’t likely to stick around if he thought someone was going to hurt him.  He nodded, though and Dumbledore’s face relaxed.  “Very well, then it appears your ready.”

“Sir, is it true that Lucius Malfoy supported Voldemort?”

Dumbledore stopped and looked at him in surprise.  “Yes, it is, but do not judge too quickly.  A great many of those who supported him did so out of fear.”

“Did Mr. Malfoy?”

“No, I do not think so.”  Dumbledore didn’t seem inclined to elaborate on the subject, so Harry let it go and stood in front of the fireplace anxiously.  “Remember what I said Harry.”

Harry nodded, “Remeo.”

Dumbledore smiled at him, but there was a distinctly anxious tinge to it as he grabbed the powder and threw it into the fire, “Malfoy Manor.”

Harry stepped in and watched Dumbledore’s office sweep past him as the floo carried him off.

-tbc-