When Living Ain\'t Easy

See Prologue for warnings, disclaimers, and author\'s notes.

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Chapter Two : Taking in Strays

If his uncle had seen the look of sheer terror on Harry\'s face, he would certainly have enjoyed the memory for years to come.

Whereas a muggle was blocked from seeing beyond the front door, Harry had no such obstacles. He tried to scramble back toward the porch but found the door already shut and locked tight behind him. Quickly digging into his pocket for his wand, he aimed it at the two silvery blond heads before him.

\"Now, now, Mr. Potter. There is no need for such aggression,\" came the smooth-as-sin voice of Lucius Malfoy. \"You arrived rather earlier than expected, otherwise we would have been joined by a third. Surely you would feel more secure in the presence of one of your teachers?\"

The snickering form of his school nemesis stepped around his father. \"Really Potter, is this any way to react to your personal saviors?\"

Harry gaped at Draco Malfoy, disbelieving the almost civil tone of the Slytherin\'s voice. Darting glances between both pale wizards, the teen stammered, \"But... how... why?!\"

The younger Malfoy flicked his gaze back to his father, sharing a truly wicked grin. With mischief in his eyes, he returned his attention to the shellshocked Gryffindor. \"Relax Potty. Due to... recent events, there have been a few changes in allegiance. You\'re as safe here as anywhere, I reckon.\"

\"Mmm, perhaps moreso.\" Deftly tossing his man of silver hair back over his shoulders, the psion of the Malfoy clan waved his hand, directing Harry\'s possessions to one empty corner of the room. \"These can wait till you\'ve been properly reassured. While we await your professor, would you care to join us for supper? Your trip must have been quite stressful, dealing with that unpleasant... person.\"

Without really meaning to do so, Harry found himself nodding and following both blonds into a short hall leading from the front parlor. Now that his shock was dissipating somewhat, he could sense their underlying tension -- as if they were worried about his reactions. Such a concept sat poorly against all of the Gryffindor\'s preconceived notions about the Malfoy family.

Harry\'s full attention was once more diverted to his surroundings as he stepped into a large, airy kitchen. It was a feeling of warmth that greeted him, throwing yet another kink in his prejudices. He never would have believed either blond capable of looking so relaxed in such a common (if comfortable) room. Taking a seat at the oval table, he laid his wand within easy reach and allowed a long look at his new environment.

Three obviously charmed windows brightened up the room with early morning sunlight, even though it was nearly 10pm. One hung over the kitchen sink, a small bay window housing numerous herbs in small pots. The other two bracketed the dining table. Light oak cabinets stained a pale golden hue appeared to be oft-used and much cared for. Modern muggle appliances gleamed silver, working in tandem with wizarding gadgets. A soft green paint covered the walls and ceiling, with cream colored sandstone tiles underfoot. Had Harry been asked for his opinion on a comfortable working kitchen, this room would come very close to the mark.

As the brunet took mental inventory, the Slytherins were having a silent conversation:

Yes Father, he\'s going to protest our plan. No Draco, you may not prank him just yet. Yes Draco, Severus will arrive shortly. No Father, I did not examine his muggle clothes closely enough to notice his arse.

At the last exchange, Draco\'s eyebrows lifted all the way to his high hairline. Surely he had misinterpreted that look. Oh please! let him have misinterpreted that look! It was way too soon after his mother\'s... disappearance for him to accept his father\'s interest in anyone, much less his classroom rival.

As if reading his son\'s thoughts, Lucius leaned close to his son, whispering, \"Calm yourself, Dragon. It was merely an observation. After all, you don\'t expect me to remain celebate, pining after your mother, do you?\"

Draco found himself caught between revulsion and amusement. If he reacted this badly from a single stolen leer, how would Potter take to the idea? He made a mental note to watch future interchanges for early warning signs of sexual tension.

\"Where are our manners, Father? We\'ve offered our guest refreshment and left him sitting in wait.\" Turning abruptly to hid his smug grin, the younger blond began making tea and setting sandwich items on various plates.

Draco\'s industry drew Harry\'s contemplation short, his mouth beginning to water from the very idea of food being offered. Normally by this point in his summer hols, he was relegated to water and dry bread rations by his relatives. So it had only been twelve hours since breakfast at Hogwarts. His body urged him not to turn down the offer of sustainance. Moody\'s gravelly voice nagged at the back of his mind that this was a *very* bad idea, but his rumbling stomach vetoed the opposition.

What few objections remained were put to rest when the younger Slytherin fixed his own sandwich, poured a steaming cup of tea, and pushed the pot toward Harry. Draco heavily dosed his cup with sugar and lemon, sipping in contentment. \"It\'s not poisoned, Scarhead,\" he said with a friendly smirk.

A simple statement, but Harry read the truth from both words and almost-smile. He promptly built his own meal and matched his rival bite for bite.

Shaking his head at the young wizards\' antics, Lucius pulled out a chair beside the brunet. He poured a cup for himself, adding cream, honey and lemon, and sipped quietly while he watched the teens devour every last morsel on the table.

Just as he was about to request a second pot be brewed, a soft sound drew his attention toward the doorway. \"Ah Severus, I was about to firecall your quarters. I trust everything is in order then?\"

Green eyes widened to comic proportions as the sole Gryffindor watched his least favorite professor slide into the chair opposite him and Malfoy Senior.

\"Well, isn\'t this a cozy scene,\" his words drawling in that silky voice, Severus\' face offered no clue to his mood. \"Made yourself right at home, have you Mr. Potter?\"

Cooling tea clogged the back of Harry\'s nose as he choked in surprise. Both at the nearly polite queries and the teacher\'s attire. He had never seen the great greasy git in anything less than his formal teaching robes (and once in a duelling costume). To witness the man in silk shirt -- unbuttoned halfway down his chest! -- and snug denims... made Harry\'s libido step up to make itself heard. Firmly shoving that errant desire away, Harry offered a weak smile at his professor.

\"Good evening, Sir. Mr. Malfoy indicated that one of my teachers would be here, but he kept your identity a surprise.\" A quick sip to moisten his suddenly dry mouth. \"Maybe now that you\'re here, you can explain a few things?

Severus raised an eyebrow at his student, then raised it slightly higher at both Malfoys. Directing his question at the senior blond, he asked, \"You\'ve told him nothing, Lucius?\"

\"Now really, Severus, surely you didn\'t expect him to believe anything I say. Nor my son either, I suspect.\" More meaning passed between them than such simple sentences could express, but neither young wizard was able to define the subtext.

\"Of course, you discount the fact that the boy is unlikely to believe me either.\"

Harry almost flinched at the self-loathing laden in his teacher\'s voice. \"Sir, I do trust you. It was... one of the things that the...\" sighing pause \"Headmaster expected of me. If Dumbledore trusted you enough to... do what he did... then it\'s only right for me to try as well.\"

Beginning softly with just a hint of sorrow, Harry\'s words quickly became loaded with conviction. He may not like the Potions Master\'s treatment of Gryffindors in general (or himself in particular), but Harry finally understood the treacherous line his instructor must walk.

Only the barest twitch at the corner of his mouth betrayed Severus\' calm facade. \"Really Potter, what a cauldron-full of sentimental tripe.\" His harsh words were ruined by the nearly gentle smirk thrown in Harry\'s direction.

The Boy Who Lived found himself only a little unnerved by the... teasing banter from the grumpy Head of Slytherin. He greeted the not-quite grin with a beaming smile of his own, his eyes falling back to his empty cup. And Once again missing the exchanged glances between his hosts -- two calculating and surprised, one amused and happily plotting.