Chapter Text
Narcissa smirked as she looked down at her sleeping son. It couldn’t have worked out better if she planned it herself, which she had, most of it anyway. There was no way to predict this actual outcome. Her son was safe, and better yet, was to be safe for the rest of his life, no matter the outcome of the wizarding world. No matter that even if Harry perished under the daunting task she knew he had, her son shall be safe, the widowed Lady Potter-Black with a hand on the Malfoy holdings once Lucius passed.
Her son was safe… That was all that mattered.
Now all that was needed was to prepare him for his next task, his future. He was raised to be a lord, now he shall be tasked with that of a lady’s job. Narcissa smirked, she had always wished for a daughter, even if it was a son in daughter’s clothing.
Turning she walked from the largely ornate room. She made her way calmly down the hall wondering where the young lord ran off to. She turned a corner to make her way to the stair case, thinking he was probably in his office, acquainting himself to his new home. The castle she had to admit was breathtaking.
“Lady Malfoy,” a voice called from behind her. She turned to see the new butler.
Varrius Absolom was a squib in all practicality, finding his living by working for the noble ranks of the wizarding kind throughout France. She had heard wonderful things of his work, and his iron will to run a household steadily. She wondered how Harry had actually come across him. She glided up to the exceptionally tall and lanky man, paying mind to his looks, now that she had an opportunity to be so close. He had naturally tan skin, with black hair cut short and parted at the side and peppered slightly with grey. His nose was the, predominate feature of his face, his lips a hard line below them. His eyes surrounded by little wrinkle, showed his stern nature to all except when it came to Harry. The one time she had met this man before was at a glimpse, as Harry spoke to him, those stern eyes softening. Hadn’t Absolom worked for Harry’s grandfather? Maybe that was how Harry was able to snatch this man from the Macmillan family.
“Yes Mr. Absolom?” her voice was light, and she gave him a small smile.
“The master wishes an audience.” Absolom then turned and began to walk away, leading her to his master. Such a brisk man, she thought. The walked back to where Harry’s rooms, or more accurately the sitting room off the side. Absolom knocked once before opening the door, and bowing, “Lady Malfoy for you my Lord.”
“Oh stop that,” Narcissa held in her smile as Harry didn’t even look up from what he was writing, an older woman standing to his left.
“Apologies my Lord,” Absolom spoke even though he was not sorry, and he would not stop, given the look on his face.
“Let him do his job kindly, my Lord Harridan,” the brisk woman behind him spoke.
“You stop it too,” Harry turned to look over his shoulder at her, “How many times must I tell you to call me Harry, Ms. Ophelia?”
“Just once more, my Lord Harridan,” the woman’s face looked as if it were about to hold a smile, if the crinkle by her eyes was any indication, but she refrained still.
“Harry?” Narcissa broke in.
Harry turned to her. “Oh right, Lady I wish for you to meet Miss Ophelia Pompey, she is much like Mr. Absolom in status.” Narcissa caught his meaning, the woman was a squib or near enough to one. “She is the Governess and Housekeeper of the family, apparently I inherited her from the Potter line. She and her family have been serving us for generations according to her.”
Narcissa looked the woman over. She was roughly in her forties with soft brown eyes, a sharp nose, plum lips and a round oval face. Her hair was curly and pinned up into place, as she held herself somewhere between relaxed and stiff.
Narcissa nodded, “Yes like the Crabbe’s and Goyle’s have been to the Malfoy Lords and Heirs.”
Harry nodded absently. A frown overcame his face, “How is it that I never knew any of this? Utterly ridiculous.”
“You called for me Harry,” Narcissa prompted.
“Yeah, I did.” He had dropped his new speech patterns, falling back on old ones once the whole debacle at the bank started to play out. Narcissa could tell that he was stress beyond measure. Finding out all that had been kept from him, a new betrothal that there was no chance of canceling, a new home to see to, two people he had no knowledge of being under his families order, not only finding him but offering (ordering him to accept their) service. So much had happened to this young man, too much. “How are we going to get rid of Draco?” Narcissa stiffened, “NO-no,” he corrected upon seeing her, “I mean for Draco to live as Drea—my betrothed,” he muttered the last under his breath, slight rage filling his voice, “Then Draco must not exist anymore.”
Narcissa relaxed, “Oh yes, I have already figured as much.”
“As any Lady should,” Ms. Ophelia offered pleasantly.
“Yes, well Draco was awfully fond of dragons, as is his namesake,” Narcissa gave a sad smile, like her heart was breaking, “We knew one was just off the property, and has been since Draco was eight. Draco visited the thing often, when younger, especially when stressed. With the meeting with the Dark Lord coming he had to go visit. But the Dragon was nesting,” Harry winced, knowing exactly how dangerous a nesting mother dragon was, “And well… I found his body, torn and burned almost beyond recognition.” At this Narcissa began to weep.
Harry raised an eyebrow, his governess running to the woman, “Oh my Lady.”
Narcissa straightened, “So I came to Lord Black, who I knew would be housing my niece once removed, as Isla’s mother, Drea’s grandmother married a Malfoy of a distant branch, to bestow the news that her son, if she should have one would be the Malfoy heir.” Narcissa smirked wickedly.
Ms. Ophelia had an arm around Narcissa’s shoulders holding one of her hands.
“I’m terribly sorry,” Narcissa spoke still acting, “I am still mourning you see.”
After a moment Harry rose and walked around his desk, “I am never crossing you Lady Malfoy, ever.”
“As is should be,” Narcissa smirked; “Now none of that, call me Narcissa if you please.”
Harry grinned, “Narcissa then.”
“Do you think it may be time to wake my dearly deceased son and newly made niece?” Narcissa smiled.
“Oh no Lady, let me, it is my job,” Ophelia spoke. “I shall be the one to teach the young master to be a young miss if I am not mistaken.” Her eyes crinkled, she was enjoying herself immensely, though she showed none of this truly.
“He may need to be enervated.” Narcissa spoke.
“I have just enough magic to pull off that trick, though I can hardly do much more.”
“Alright then,” Narcissa turned, “He will need to dress as someone in his station should from now on, at least until he is used to it. And you shall address him as such.”
“Yes my Lady,” she made to bow to her, “The blue sitting room then? Absolom can bring in a light lunch with tea,” she directed to the butler, “Lord Master Harridan,” she bowed to Harry and then made her way from the room.
“Shall we?” Harry asked offering Narcissa his arm.
Narcissa smiled, “Yes, thank you.”
Absolom followed them out of the room quietly shutting the door.
Draco woke with a start to a brisk voice.
“Lady if you please, it is time to wake, you are required for lunch in the blue sitting room.” Draco looked up at a curvy woman, her voice soothing, as she tried to user him from the bed.
“Excuse me, but who in the bloody hell are you?” Draco cut at her.
“Now that is no language that a Lady of your standing should use.”
“A Lady of my standing?” Draco asked dazed as he was pulled from the bed.
“Oh yes, Lady Drea Noir, distant niece to Narcissa Malfoy, and betrothed to Lord Harridan Potter-Black.” Ophelia offered amused as she turned from him to rustle through the wardrobe. She pulled out undergarments from a drawer, before turning and pulling open a cabinet to find older dresses, most like Narcissa’s from when she was a teenager.
“Drea… Niece… mother… betrothed?” Draco parroted, not paying whatever the silly woman was doing any mind.
“Yes, yes,” Ophelia parroted right back, “My name is Ms. Ophelia Pompey; I am governess and housekeeper of this family.”
Draco glanced down at the bustling woman who had, he just realized, stripped him. “Hey!”
“Now shall I put these on you or shall you put them on yourself?” Ophelia asked as she stepped back to look her charge over, holding a silver lace thong with frills on the hips.
“Excuse you!” Draco shouted, “I never.”
Ms. Ophelia snapped and the thong was firmly in place. Draco yelled in indignation.
She walked forward, lifting his arms up, “Arms up dear,” she turned to the bed were she laid the cloths, and grabbed something before sliding it onto Draco. It was a silver corset, with minimal padding in the chest to give him shape. She worked fast turning him around and lacing the thing us before he could rip it off. “Deep breathe dear,” she urged, he didn’t have a chance to though as she pulled hard on the laces. He squeaked, and tried to pull away, already too late as the laces were tucked out of reach.
He rounded on her about to scream, she lifted his hands again before he could get a word in edgewise, sliding a slip made of silk over his head. Next she pulled a lilac, chiffon, off the shoulder gown that synched just above the waist with stylized crystals and dark purple amethyst stones that glittered.
Ophelia turned him briskly, placing him in front of a long mirror and sitting him on a chair. She ducked under his dress much to his distress, sliding smooth stalking’s up his legs.
Draco gasped at the picture he made and leaned forward a bit. “I look almost like my mother.”
Ms. Ophelia gave a noncommittal sound and tapped her chin.
“When did my hair get so long?” Draco asked.
“Your mother,” was the only explanation the old crotchety woman would give him.
She surged forward with a brush that appeared out of nowhere, startling Draco, and attacking his hair. She settled on a nice braid that curved and fell neatly over his shoulder.
“There now dear, all we need is shoes.” As she spoke she walked over to the wardrobe once more, pulling out a pair of flats. “I don’t think you’re ready for heels just yet, and we don’t want you to embarrass yourself in front of the Master. He is your betrothed after all.”
She slid the shoes on his feet as he recoiled. “Master? Betrothed?” Draco parroted again. This woman was making him dizzy.
“That’s not for me to answer dear, no come, come.” She urged him from his seat, holding on to his elbow as if to keep him from bolting. Which if she hadn’t then he probably would have bolted.
“What of my mother?” he asked, his voice almost meek, after all her handling.
“She is waiting with the Master; she was the one who ordered this.”
“She…” His mother betrayed him. He walked slowly, the feel of fabric swishing around his legs new, the undergarments uncomfortable, the shoes tight, and his hair entirely too heavy.
He finally let the last images from his memory free from the gates that held them at bay. He remembered his mother asking Potter for help, he remembered his mother’s idiotic plan for him to play that girl, Sirius’ long lost and hidden dead daughter, he remembered her binding him, leaving him without speech. Then he remembered Potter and the ritual, and all that pain. Excruciatingly horrible pain as his mother just sat back and let it happen. She hadn’t looked distressed in the least… though Harry had…
He would have to think on that later, he thought, as they approached an open door.
Inside the richly decorated blue room sat his mother at a small rounded table. There was a man there with wild ebony locks, and a muscled frame, sitting back facing the door. Was that Potter? He was even bigger than the last time Draco saw him. Did he grow by the minute? Draco blinked.
“Draco-Drea,” she amended, “Please join us,” his mother spoke softly, her voice melodic.
Harry stood when Narcissa announced his entrance and turned. Draco approached in shocked silence, Ms. Ophelia still holding tight, his elbow. Harry was so tall! Draco thought. He wasn’t that tall when he left school; only an inch or so taller than Draco himself. Now he stood more than a head taller. Then Harry smiled. Draco sucked in a breath.
No he wasn’t going to go weak-kneed for Potter.
When Harry had laid eyes on Draco, he too had sucked in a breath. Who knew the blonde could be that beautiful. He pulled the chair out next to him an offered it to the young man in the guise of a woman.
“Good evening Dray,” Harry said softly.
“Dray?” Draco reared back.
“I know you probably don’t wish to be called Drea, but if you are going to continue under guise, you need to be her every moment of the day, so I made a compromise with the name. Dray is a good nickname for Draco and Drea.” Harry explained smoothly.
Draco growled, but let Harry push his seat in. “What is this about being betrothed?” Draco got right to the point.
“You and Harridan are to be married… and soon.” She leveled a gaze at Harry. “Before the summers out.”
Harry’s eyebrow rose, “The contract said before we turned 21.”
“If you intend to go to school, then we can’t have Dray sorted into a different house, let alone with a bunch of girls. No, once married, students are allowed private rooms to be together. Lucius and myself used such rooms while he was in his seventh year as I was in sixth. I even kept the room in my own seventh year so he might visit.”
“Hmm…” Harry nodded.
“What!” Draco sounded. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing.
“Draco Lucius Malfoy!” His mother snapped. “You listen to me,” she demanded. Draco snapped back into his seat as if branded, unknowingly cringing toward Harry. “You are to be Drea Isla Noir, that is who you are now. You shall learn to be the Lady that is Drea, meaning everything from how to put on make-up, how to run a household, how to entertain guests, as well as walk in heels. The only time you are aloud to act as Draco Malfoy is when you are with your fiancé alone in your bedchambers after you are married. Am I understood?” Though phrased like a question, it was in fact an order. Draco nodded vigorously. She knew that while she was here he wouldn’t put up much of a fight; it was after she left that Harry would have his hands full. She sat back and smiled. “I expect grandbabies within the year.”
Harry coughed and choked next to Draco as his eyes bulged.
“E-excuse me Narcissa, but he may be made to dress like a girl, but he isn’t actually.” Harry cut in with a croak.
“Oh dear, hasn’t anyone told you that if the wizard is powerful enough that they may impregnate another magically powerful wizard?” Narcissa smirked. “And as you Harry are probably one of the most powerful wizards to come into existence since Merlin, and Draco is in fact only second to you in power at school, it is entirely possible.” She smiled gaily at them.
“I-Mother,” Draco seethed, “I don’t even find him attractive.”
“Oh,” Narcissa raised a brow, “I know that your preference is toward men, and Harry here is very handsome. You have also been obsessed with him since first year… If that isn’t a crush, then I don’t know what is.”
“Mother!” Draco shot Harry a look, turning red.
Harry laughed, “Stop teasing him Narcissa, and me for that matter. We will both die of mortification before we even have the chance to feel out our feelings for one another.”
Narcissa smiled. “Yes, your right of course.” She sat forward. “You shall be getting married this summer though… and as I said grandbabies in the near future.” She picked up her tea cup and sipped carefully, “Now to lay out your new schedules.” She set the cup down. “To start with, Draco. You shall wake at five in the morning with Miss Ophelia, and she shall teach you how to dress, how to walk, how to do your hair, as well as how to put on makeup. Then you shall attend breakfast no later than seven with myself and Harry. After that you shall work on etiquette and manor of a young lady with me until lunch at noon. Then you shall have free time to spend as you like until afternoon tea. After tea your studies shall take place, then dinner at seven in the informal dining hall unless otherwise stated. After dinner you and Harry shall retreat to a room of your choosing and get to know one another. At ten you shall tire to your room.”
Narcissa smiled, turning to Harry, “Now for you. You shall also wake at five prepare for the day before holding yourself in your office to see to the responsibilities of a lord, I shall instruct you of this until you need no further instruction. Then we shall meet Dra-Drea at breakfast. After breakfast you shall see to your studies, I am sure you have been concentrating on such since the beginning of the summer, to that end I don’t think any farther instruction shall be needed, unless the governess sees fit to instruct you on something specific. Then you shall attend lunch. After lunch you shall also have free time, then tea time then your studies once more. After which shall you attend dinner and then as I stated before retreat to spend time with Drea.”
Harry chuckled as Draco sat back with a huff. “How is it that his studies aren’t dictated?”
“He has been hard at work taking control and learning necessary thing any lord shall need to know since he escaped Dumbledore, and doing a splendid job. You need to have instruction because I know you. You will fight with tooth and nail every step of the way, and if not closely instructed you won’t learn anything. I only have a month and two weeks to whip you into shape.”
Draco’s cheeks turned a violent shade of red. He reached forward quickly grabbing a tea cup and raising it to his lips. No one was fooled, he was hiding.
Harry sat back; Narcissa certainly gave Draco a lashing of words. Nodding he realized his will just concreted in the idea to never cross this woman. He turned his head to Draco slightly, if Draco was going to be even a fourth like this woman in standing then… well… Harry was going to have to guard his loins. Harry shivered. And he was going to be married to the blonde. Now that was an idea he was still wrapping his mind around. He didn’t think he ever would really.
But wait, a month and two weeks?
“Narcissa, a month and two weeks?”
“Two days before attending Hogwart’s and the day of your wedding.” The woman was smug. It made Harry cringe; it was starting to sink in. He glanced at Draco again, by the looks of it; it was sinking in for him as well.