Harry didn't know who was more shocked really, him or Draco, who Lucius had firmly told that he had to treat Harry like a brother now that they were adopted brothers. Narcissa Malfoy had taken it in her stride, not that she could complain much with Harry now being her Head of House as well as her adopted son.
It was so strange. Harry had thought, as stupid as it sounded in hindsight, that Voldemort would have been here waiting for him, but of course, that couldn't be true. Lucius was a top, loyal follower, of that he had no doubt, the very thought of being under the same roof as Lucius had seen him with many sleepless nights, but the man was also a high ranking Ministry official who was accused of being a Death Eater. Surely the Ministry would have tabs on him and his house and they'd know if Voldemort was here, though that still didn't stop Lucius from being a Death Eater.
Harry didn't like being here and he made sure that he never went anywhere without his wand, he was even bathing with it and he was having trouble relaxing and sleeping, but everyone knew that he was here now, so he was at least reassured a little that Lucius couldn't just do away with him, there would be questions asked and Lucius would be in the thick of it if he just disappeared.
So no, Harry didn't outright fear for his life being here and Lucius was actually taking lessons with him to help him understand what being a lord was all about and what was expected of him. Lucius was actually taking the time to run through everything that he didn't understand from the files that Nagnok had given him and from the books that Lucius had made him buy and Harry was so busy that he didn't have a damn chance to just sit back and think about what was happening, not thoroughly.
Of course, a million and one owls all swooped in on him the morning after it had been made public, two days after he'd actually been brought to Malfoy Manor, that he'd been 'adopted' by Lucius Malfoy due to 'unspecified negligence' which really could have been anything or meant anything. He had several letters from the Weasleys, one incredibly long one from Hermione, a short, inquiring note from Dumbledore and a panicked letter from Remus who thought that he'd been kidnapped.
He sighed as they all bore near enough the same message, keep his eyes open, keep his wand on him at all times, don't turn his back on them, don't trust them, find out what he could from them, follow and report their every move and they'd do their best to get him out as quickly as possible.
"I take it from your expression that your letters bear news that you'd have rathered not read?" Lucius inquired as he sipped tea from a fine, bone china vintage teacup that had a matching delicate saucer. It was almost comical to Harry to watch the Malfoys eat and drink, especially after the two weeks he'd spent with the Dursleys watching Dudley and Vernon shovel in as much as they could with every mouthful.
Harry scoffed. "Something like that. It's like they've all used the same template to write them, just in different words, they all contain the same points and 'advice.'"
"Around the lines of not trusting us and spying on us, no doubt. Dumbledore always was a transparent fool." Lucius told him and Harry nodded absentmindedly as he rolled his eyes at Ron's letter and his declaration of getting the twins to rescue him once more like they had when he was twelve.
Draco was sat opposite him at the small, six seated table. The Malfoys had a larger, much larger, table in their formal dining room, but the family dining room was smaller and more intimate and though it seated six, there were only four chairs. Lucius sat at the head of one side and Narcissa on the other, Harry and Draco sat opposite each other on the sides of the table; it had made the first few days nearly impossible as Draco was a very spoilt, childish, petty person and kept kicking his shins, at least until Lucius had found out and had threatened to punish him for it if it carried on, that is.
Draco was still reeling from the embarrassment and humiliation of his last punishment, one administered for promiscuous behaviour and neglect of his studies, and he had no desire to earn another one. He hated Harry even more for telling his father the rumours flying around Hogwarts about him fathering a child on Pansy Parkinson and he made sure that Harry knew about it too. He took every opportunity he could to ensure that Harry knew he wasn't wanted or welcome in his home, which he'd never had to share with anyone before in his life. Draco wasn't big on sharing, just like Dudley.
It was sad really. He'd been taken from one unwanted home to be put in another. It truly was like he was unlovable, but as he was staying with the Malfoys, of all people, he tried not to let that bother him.
A week after he had arrived at Malfoy Manor and had everything turned on its head, Lucius had a day off from work and had woken him up at six in the morning, or rather, he'd gotten a house-elf named Pimsey to come and wake him up at six in the morning and lead him to a room in the maze-like manor that he still wasn't used to. Harry had been forced to sit through an hour-long etiquette lesson before breakfast and then, after breakfast, which was perfectly balanced he might add, a tailor and two assistants had come to measure him for robes and other clothes. That had taken three hours as they'd made him two sets of robes on the spot, complete with shirts and trousers, to wear while his new wardrobe was being created especially for him from a range of colours that suited his skin tone, hair and eye colour and the seasons. Lucius had gotten the house-elf to incinerate all of his old robes and clothes while he was being fitted. The elder Malfoys had been shocked to find out that he didn't own any pyjamas and had just slept in his regular clothes. They were talking about him. He knew it.
Lunch was even more tense than breakfast had been as Harry was furious at being picked apart, pulled about, dressed like a toddler and then he'd found out that all of his own clothing had been burnt without his permission. They had even had his glasses changed, but the only fuss he was going to make over that was that he hadn't been asked to pick out his own frames. He could now see better than ever. Gone were his too small, round-framed glasses that weren't the right prescription. He now had rather elegant, rectangular-framed glasses that fit his nose and the side of his head without pinching. He begrudgingly liked them, though he still would have liked to have been consulted on the style.
'You are a part of the Malfoy household, your actions reflect upon me and your appearance reflects upon me. While you are in my home, you will dress and behave as I tell you to.' Lucius had told him calmly after Harry had thrown a bitch fit and let out all of his pent up rage and frustration, which had only been growing the longer he remained here.
Sullen and still silently fuming, Harry went back to reading his new boring book while sitting on a chair in front of Lucius' desk in his study. He was doing work for whatever it was he did whilst supervising Harry's lesson so that he could be on hand if Harry didn't understand something, which was often enough that Lucius had once remarked that perhaps he should read the book to him like a child, which had, of course, embarrassed Harry into sullen silence.
"Are you going to start reading or would you rather continue staring blankly at the page?" Lucius asked without looking up at him.
Harry sighed and forced himself to go back to the book. He didn't know what was happening, everything was turned on its head and it was all going far too fast for him to take in, he needed everything to just slow down a little so that he could breathe and work through it all. He didn't know what to think, who to trust or what to believe. He'd even made a list in his bed suite at night, because such a large room, with its own attached en suite bathroom and a sitting area with its own fire, could not be called just a simple bedroom, so he'd taken to calling it his bed suite. This list had on it just a few names of people he knew that he could explicitly trust, bulletin points of everything he'd learnt so far and another bulletin list of all the books he'd read since that summer, just so that he could keep track of everything.