Duet

*~*~*~*
Lessons

Harry received a pleasant shock when he arrived for his first piano lesson with Irma Griphook. She was a tiny old witch with definite goblin features; Harry wondered vaguely if she was any relation to the Griphook at Gringott’s Bank in Diagon Alley. Her small music store was located six doors down from Zonko’s so Harry did not draw any undue attention from Hogwarts students when he entered the shop.

Madam Griphook led him to a small room on the second floor containing a baby grand piano, several chairs and a small table. She conjured a tray of tea and biscuits and told him his instructor would arrive shortly.

Harry ran his fingers over the keys, playing a scale. The door did not open, but the young wizard sensed another presence in the room. He jumped slightly when a masculine voice purred in his ear. “Always a pleasure to teach such a dedicated student.”

Harry looked up into the blue gray eyes of Lucius Malfoy. The man was icily elegant as always, impeccably dressed in deep gray and black with his long white blond hair secured neatly with a jeweled clasp at the nape of his neck. “You don’t mind if I teach you personally, do you my little Raven?”

And so it went – letters by owl and monthly piano lessons in the secrecy of Madam Griphook’s music room. As Lucius always apparated and disapparated directly into the room, even the little witch did not know who taught the lessons, and, being half-goblin, didn’t care as long as the room was paid for.

Their courtship dance continued and their affection for one another grew. A slight touch, a quick hug, a chaste peck on the cheek, tentative kisses, caresses. It happened so gradually that it came as a shock to Harry late one night to realize he had fallen in love with Lucius Malfoy – Death Eater, supporter of the man who wanted him dead, and father to his fellow classmate, the arrogant Draco.

The morning of the last Hogsmeade weekend before Christmas Holidays, Draco had, once again called Hermione a “Mudblood”. Surprisingly, Neville Longbottom sent him to the floor with a punch.

Mudblood. The word haunted Harry as he waited for Lucius to appear for lessons. Today he had to get an answer to the question that had haunted him since he had first found the wizard photograph.

Lucius apparated into the practice room and pulled Harry onto his lap for a quick round of kisses before lessons began. “You seem a bit distracted, my Love.”

Harry began tentatively. “The Malfoys have always disapproved of Muggle borns being allowed into Hogwarts, haven’t they?”

“Y-yes?” Lucius replied, unsure of where this was going.

“Then how did you get to be friends with my Muggle born mother?”

Lucius readjusted Harry on his lap and held his chin, forcing him to look straight into his eyes. “Who told you your mother was Muggleborn?”

Harry was puzzled by the question. “Everyone. Dumbledore. Hagrid. Sirius… It’s in “Who’s Who of Modern Wizards”, “Witch Weekly” and all the horrible articles by Rita Skeeter about the bloody Boy Who Lived…”

Lucius kissed him deeply. “The Evans family were squibs and your grandmother was a weak witch – too much magic to be a squib but not enough to attend Hogwarts.”

“I-I don’t understand…”

“Certain factions of the magical community have long ostracized Squibs. It’s no wonder that Evans assimilated into the Muggle community. Many Squib families do.” Lucius gathered Harry tightly into his arms. “I suspect that you and your mother got those beautiful eyes and that pale skin from the vampires of Romania. Eyes that color green do not occur outside of the magical community.”

“Why would Dumbledore lie to me?”

“Your mother was a funny, fiery, wonderful creature who did not base her friendships on house politics. She was a good match for your father and they were happy.

“It was a different time then. Voldemort was rising and you were either swept into the evil or away from it. In the martyrdom of James and Lily Potter, the side of Light altered many truths and one of them was your mother’s heritage. Brave, beautiful Muggleborn Lily Evans Potter dying to protect her half-blood son from the evil Muggle hating Voldemort made a much better story than admitting she was a magical miracle of genetics to a long line of squibs.”

Stunned, Harry just sat in Lucius lap, letting the older wizard hold him tight. “Once again,” Harry whispered. “My life is a lie…”

“In his own addle brained way, Dumbledore is trying to protect you…”

“I’m a pureblood.” Harry laughed with an almost hysterical edge. “In the space of six years I’ve gone from being an orphan freak who lived in a cupboard, to the half-blood hero of the wizarding world, to the boy who helped resurrect Voldemort, to this….”

Lucius kissed him again and again, each one harder and more passionate. Harry returned the passion. Breathing hard, he pulled back. “Too much…too soon…”

Harry climbed out of the dark wizard’s lap and moved toward the piano. With shaking hands he began playing a haunting melody.

Lucius leaned back into the leather of the chair and collected his emotions. When had he begun to care so much for that slight little wizard?

*~*~*~*
Draco Malfoy was puzzled. Home for the Christmas holidays, he heard his father playing the piano at odd times of the day and night. His father had stopped playing when his mother had become sick. Father seemed more at peace with himself as well; gone was the crippling sorrow that had consumed him after his wife’s death. The piano, Draco decided, must be some sort of therapy.

When he returned to Hogwarts he was surprised to hear the same haunting melody coming from the music room next to the Great Hall. He was aware that Harry Potter was practicing piano and even he had to admit, had improved a great deal since the beginning of term. What a strange coincidence that they would choose the same melody.

Draco leaned against the wall, listening to Harry practice the melody. His mind drifted, thinking of his father, of Voldemort, of a future beyond Hogwarts. He slowly became aware that Harry was hitting a few wrong notes. Harry seemed to be aware if it as well as he kept trying to work through the short passage.

Not even thinking, Draco drifted into the music room. Harry was alone; his face was calm. Did Harry also use the piano as therapy, he wondered. The white blond wizard approached the piano; conscious that Harry’s hand was hovering over his wand tucked beside him on the bench. Draco glanced at the sheet music and played the passage. Harry stared at him as his fingers ran over the keys again. Harry played the passage and smiled shyly at him.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

Draco nodded once and left the room. He was halfway to the dungeons before he realized what he had done. He had just helped a Gryffindor. * How in hell had that happened? *

*~*~*~*
Several weeks before the Easter holidays, Harry received a surprising letter from Vernon Dursley.

“Boy,

We are expecting you home for your two-week holiday. Your Aunt Petunia wants the upstairs painted.

The headmaster at your freak school has sent me the train schedule, so I will pick you up at Kings Cross Station.

Vernon Dursley

p.s. Leave your ruddy owl at school or I will feed her to you raw.”

Harry groaned when he read the letter. Hermione patted him gently on the back.

*~*~*~*
Harry moaned quietly as Lucius nibbled at one of his nipples. The older wizard had him pinned to the floor of the practice room, the piano spelled to play the same practice pieces over and over. They rubbed their erections together, separated by many layers of clothing. Lucius ran his large hands over the bare skin of Harry’s chest, both shirts unbuttoned. Harry gasped at the touch and Lucius took the opportunity to capture his mouth in a deep, passionate duel of tongues.

A small timer on the table chimed a fifteen-minute warning. Piano lessons ended in a quarter of an hour.

“Damnation,” Lucius muttered, rolling off Harry and getting to his feet.

Harry re-buttoned his shirt and spelled the dust and wrinkles from his robes. His companion had done the same.

Harry stood on his toes, capturing Lucius’ lips one more time. “It’s for the best, anyway.”

“What do you mean?” Lucius adjusted his trousers around his erection.

Harry licked his earlobe and whispered into his ear. “As much as I didn’t want to stop today, I don’t fancy my first time being on the floor in Madam Griphook’s music room.”

Lucius stared as Harry slipped out of the room and back onto the streets of Hogsmeade. First time… it had never occurred to him that Harry might still be a virgin.

*~*~*~*
Harry finely chopped his dandelion roots before sprinkling them into his gently simmering cauldron. He casually looked over at Neville who was sharing his table today. So far so good. Harry had unofficially taken over protecting Neville from himself during Potions during the fifth year.

Harry’s mind drifted. He would be catching the Hogwarts Express after lunch with the other students going home for the Easter holidays. Number 4 Privet Drive was not his home; he was not looking forward to being bullied by the Dursleys over the next two weeks.

He heard a soft gasp beside him and a whimpered “Oh, no…”

Neville’s cauldron was glowing bright red and the liquid was bubbling. Unlike the pale blue in Harry’s cauldron, Neville’s potion was bright neon pink.

“Neville! Look out!” Harry screamed as the cauldron exploded. He had managed to push his dorm mate to the floor but the liquid sprayed, covering the entire Potions classroom in a fine pink mist. Harry, who had been directly in front of it when it exploded, was soaked to the skin in the pink potion.

Professor Snape quickly checked his students for injuries before sending them to their rooms for showers. He sent several house elves after them to gather the damaged clothing and clean up the dripping liquid. He did not want the pink solution to get mixed in with the general student laundry.

Snape examined the remains of the potion in Neville’s cauldron. He hurried over to the fire, tossed some floo powder into it and summoned Professor McGonogall.

“Minerva, we have an emergency. I need to see you immediately.”

As he waited for his colleague to arrive, Severus sat at his desk with his head in his hands. “Longbottom, you idiot! Only you could turn a healing draught into a fertility potion.”

*~*~*~*
TBC