Harry Potter The Long Lost Malfoy

Harry sighed noisily and ran his hand down his face. His parents were watching him across the table. He tried again to think of them that way, his parents, before he looked at his brother.

"I was Harry Potter for twelve years," he said. "It was hard to give that up, sure. And I was only sometimes Henry Malfoy at school, you know? Around you, and around the professors who called me Mr. Malfoy. My friends all called me Harry. I just—when I want to feel more like the person I thought I was, I think of myself as Harry. It's hard to give your whole identity up and hear that you were someone else. What would you do if you found out that you were actually a Weasley?"

"But I'm not!"

"But what if you were?"

"But I'm not!" Draco turned to Mrs. Malfoy. "Mum, tell him I'm not a Weasley."

"I believe that Henry is making a special point known as a hypothetical," Mrs. Malfoy murmured, so dryly that Harry gaped at her. She didn't speak like that to him

Because we're different. And she knows that.

It was such an unexpected thought that Harry swallowed a gasp, and noticed Mr. Malfoy studying him for a second. But Harry only shook his head, and Mr. Malfoy went back to looking at Mrs. Malfoy and Draco, who was insisting in a low voice that he wasn't a Weasley and getting it explained to him that Harry hadn't thought he was a Malfoy, either.

Maybe they're not exactly good people, Harry thought as he studied the Malfoys. Maybe it would be better if they changed on their own instead of me having to bargain with them for it. But they do want to treat me right. They're not as awful as I thought, either.

That thought left him oddly able to breathe again, and when Draco finally got over his snit and glanced at him, Harry nodded at him. "So you don't scold the elves anymore, and I tell them to call me Henry. Deal?"

"Deal," Draco said fervently. "And also, you come and fly with me this afternoon."

Harry rolled his eyes. "You don't need to bargain with me for that."

Draco's mouth actually dropped open, and Harry blinked again. Draco had really thought he wouldn't get what he wanted unless he asked for it as part of a deal.

"You're such an idiot," Harry said in awe.

"Henry! Do not call your brother an idiot."

Harry put up with the scolding from Mrs. Malfoy, while he watched Draco from the corner of one eye and Dobby from the corner of another. Dobby had lifted his head from the carpet and was watching cautiously, although he ducked back whenever he apparently thought the Malfoys were glancing at him, too. But he gave a huge watery smile when he caught Harry's eye.

Harry didn't think it was fixing everything that had gone wrong. But it was a start.

....

"Father is acting strange," Draco complained out of the corner of his mouth as they soared on their Nimbuses across the Quidditch pitch at the back of the gardens. It was probably the part of Malfoy Manor that Harry liked best, huge and green and surrounded with low trees and shrubs that were there to make more hiding places for the Snitch.

Harry just nodded. Mr. Malfoy had come out to watch them fly, which Draco said he didn't do all the time. He was sitting in a conjured chair on the far side of the pitch, a glass of water on the arm of the chair and a stack of parchment in his lap. Apparently he answered letters from the Ministry on a regular basis and offered them "advice."

Advice on evil, Harry had thought, from force of habit, but he didn't know that for certain. And Mr. Malfoy had said they were trying to shift away from Voldemort.

For him.

It was a strange thought, and Harry got rid of it by pulling himself back in a flip that turned him head over broom bristles and made Draco yelp. Mr. Malfoy was also standing up, when Harry started flying forwards again and saw him, but Harry waved to him and he sat down, his face watchful.

"You're mad," Draco muttered to him, shoving at him with one hand.

It hadn't been hard enough to knock him off his broom or anything like it, so Harry avoided it easily and snorted at him. "Draco, do not call your brother mad," he intoned.

"You aren't going to tell Mother, are you?"

"No. I'm making a special point called making fun of you, you git."

Draco shoved him again for that, and then Harry pulled away and dived towards the ground. Draco chased him, laughing so hard that he sounded a lot younger than he was.

....

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