Staking Claims

Disclaimer: reminder-H.P. Not Mine. I am not now, nor do I ever, plan to make any profit from this. *sigh* Now that we’ve got that over with may I continue?? Lovely.

A/N: Happy you enjoyed. I’m sorry if the last chappie left any of you dissatisfied. If it had I hope to rectify the situation with his one. And the ‘strong words’ at the end of the chapter are not mine. They belong to Julie-Jeanne-Eléonore de Lespinasse, Letter;1774.


Harry watched as Mrs. Weasley spun in the grate before rapidly disappearing. She had been the last Weasley to go, Remus and Moody disapperated from the corner of the block not more then five minutes ago. Harry was alone, well not quite alone, but alone in the sense that he no longer had anyone he felt he could talk to. That is unless Draco continues along the same vain he started in this morning. Harry nervously turned to face the blond.

/My eye is twitching. Please don’t notice my eye twitch. Ugh! /

“So-er, Malfoy. What did you want to do today?”

/How did he see it? /

“Well Harry, I had been planning on that tour you promised me that night I arrived. Although you seem a bit, twitchy as of late.” The Slytherin’s words could have been construed as mean but Harry knew better. Malfoy’s trademark smirk was not there, just a sly, but playful lopsided grin. The difference, Harry mused, was all in the eyes. If the grin didn’t reach the eyes it was the smirk or even a sneer, but when it did they lit up and it changed Draco’s face completely. “Do you think you can quite handle it, I’d be more then willing to explore alone.” Harry was brought back to reality and his thoughts turned to the portrait of Mrs. Black.

“Maybe I had better come with you. I think I’m up to it.”

“Well, if you’re sure.” Draco smiled again and gestured with one pale, Quidditch toned arm, towards the room. “Shall we Potter?”

“Okay, well this is the living room. Not very exciting really. The gas lamps work for shite so there’s something of a permanent ‘Lumos’ on the room.” Harry pointed to the lamps and when he turned back Malfoy’s head was bent back and he was staring at the ceiling. “Oh, we call that Salazar’s Chandelier.” Draco giggled softly as he stared at the large serpent chandelier hanging over the hall. Harry continued toward the stairs knowing Draco was following.

“Harry!” The brunette turned, “what are these?” Draco pointed to oddly shaped white spots on the age darkened, wall papered hallway walls.

/Oh those. /

“When we first started using Grimmauld Place those walls were lined with plaques and when I moved in Hermione magic-ed them off.”

“Why?” Harry laughed.

“Well it’s pretty nasty really. The plaques had the heads of the old house elves on them.” Draco’s demeanor didn’t change but Harry was sure he saw a flicker of disgust.

“Ugh, that’s so distasteful.”

“Yeah, and disgusting. Anyway Hermione used to have this club called spew, or um- S.P.E.W. or something and she was fighting for house elf rights. So you can imagine how hard she worked to get those off.” Draco cocked his head.

“Yeah, I remember her making badges or something. The girls barmy you know? She’s nice and all, brilliant too, but absolutely barmy.”

/Did he just compliment Hermione? /

“Merlin Potter, stop gaping at me. Yes, Hermione is very nice and very smart. I hate to admit it but there it is. If you’d like,” his voice flared faintly and Harry thought he saw the glitter of fangs flash briefly, “I could go back to calling them weasel and mudblood.” He was offended and Harry could tell. Guilt welled up. Had he thought Draco Malfoy completely incapable of niceties? No.

“Sorry Malfoy, it just takes some getting used too.” Draco’s suddenly dark eyes cooled.

“S’fine Potter.” Harry breathed easier, disaster averted! “What’s this room?”

“Oh, that’s the drawing room; actually there is something I wanted to show you in there.” ***Harry passed the slighter boy and grasped the bronze knob, pushing the door hard. It gave way with a creak and he escorted Draco in. Harry watched eagerly as Draco took in the high ceilings and olive green walls, the moss-colored velvet curtains and the large polished wood furniture. This had been his project; Harry had restored it himself and took great pride in it. When Draco looked back at Harry he nodded his approval.

“Nice drawing room.”

“Thanks, I did it myself,” then he walked over and stood next to a large, faded and threadbare tapestry with shimmering gold thread embroidery. “Check it out Malfoy,” he gestured for Draco to come closer, “you belong to ‘The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black!” Draco quirked an eyebrow at Harry’s flourished introduction but approached without hesitation.

“What are you on about Potter?” Harry simply pointed to the tapestry.

“See for yourself.”

***

Draco looked closer and noticed that the gold embroidery was not just some basic pattern but a very intricately drawn tree with long branches and many leaves. The leaves though were not leaves at all, but names. He looked at the heading on the top.

THE NOBLE AND MOST ANCIENT HOUSE OF BLACK
“TOUJOURS PUR”

It was the black family tree and it dated back farther then he cared to figure. Sure enough he found his mothers name linked to his horrid Aunt Bellatrix and oddly enough a small burn mark. Linked to her name was the name Lucius Malfoy and beneath the two, linked by a small vertical line, was simply ‘Draco’ glittering beautifully in the dim light. Draco reached his hand out and traced over the letters of his name before letting his fingers trail to other names and other branches. Then he hit another burn hole, larger then the one before. He noted that it was where the name ‘Sirius’ should be.

“I feel like I’m home. This is practically my house after all; I mean I am blood kin.” Harry just smiled and nodded. “Um, Harry, why are some names missing? I know that ‘Sirius Black’ should be on here and my Aunt ‘Andromeda’ should be as well, among others. What happened to them?”

“Well they got blasted.”

/They what? /

“What Potter? Blasted how and why?”

“Well Mrs. Black saw fit to blast them off of the family tree, like disowning them.”

/Why am I still on here? /

“What hypocrisy. ‘Toujours Pur,’ I bet you can guess what that means.” Harry only shook his head.

“Actually no, I hadn’t really noticed it before, is it French?”

/No Potter, its Pig Latin! /

“Yes it’s French. It says ‘Always Pure.’”

“You speak French. I’ve always thought French was the most beautiful sounding language.”

“Really? Well try this- Vous avez les plus magnifiques yeux que J'ai jamais vus"”

“How? I mean what did you say?”

/You have the most beautiful eyes I have ever seen. /

“Well it is my mother’s first language so she taught me and I said something completely innocuous I assure you. French can make asking for bathroom directions sound eloquent.”

“Oh. I didn’t know your mother speaks French.”

“You wouldn’t, she speaks it very infrequently and usually only when she excited or particularly loving. Mostly terms of endearment and that sort.”

“Well then your right, I wouldn’t since she’s never felt ‘particularly loving’ towards me.” Harry smiled, showing it was in jest.

/I think she will. /

“At least she doesn’t hate you, that’s plus. Is there much else to see?”

“Nope, not really. There are a few things you should know though.”

“Like…?”

“Well, Kreacher will always talk about you like your not there and never in a good way, there are doxy’s in the attic so beware and lastly never be too loud by the tapestry in the main hall.”

“The hideous black and red thing? Why?”

“It’s not just a tapestry, behind it is an irremovable portrait of Lady Black and she hates us. She thinks we are all blood traitors and when she is disturbed she says so as loud and long as she can. This is pretty long. The tapestry helps keep her quite but it doesn’t always work.”

“I see. In that case I am going to go to my room and grab some stuff, maybe explore some more. You’re welcome to join me.”

/Please say yes. /

“Yeah sure, I’ve been meaning to look through some more of this crap anyhow. Say, meet here, 2-ish?”

/Yay! /

“Sure.”

With that Draco went to his room to get ready. Not really ready but he needed a second to think about things. Walking to the mirror he once again studied his reflection. “ Vous savez que quand je vous hais, c'est parceque je vous aime au point de déséquilibrer mon âme".”

The reflection quirked an eyebrow. “What’s that mean?” Draco smiled a small, dulcet smile.

“It means, ‘You know that when I hate you, it is because I love you to a point that unhinges my soul.”

“Strong words.”

“I know.”