He'd learnt that, as Rabastan was a wanted criminal, he couldn't actually take up the mantel of Lord Lestrange when his grandfather died, so if Xerxes died then Harry would take Rabastan's seat on the Wizengamot as well, as his husband's bonded spouse. But, what went on in the Wizengamot halls stayed there, so only the members inside the Wizengamot would know of him being Lord Lestrange and as they were unable to tell anyone outside of the Wizengamot without facing life in Azkaban, he would be safe from any backlash concerning his choice of husband.
Though Harry got the feeling that before Xerxes even came close to dying of old age, Rabastan would be able to walk down the streets and live his life normally without fear of being attacked by members of the general public or the Ministry.
He had been living with the Malfoy family after all and sometimes the dinner topics were a little more than just Lucius' day at work or Narcissa's gossip from afternoon tea with the other pureblooded ladies. He didn't know what to think about that, but he always held his tongue. He got the feeling that he was being tested and that he was being 'scoped out' so to say. But he'd learnt now that before he could do or say anything, then he needed all of the information and all of the facts, his time at the Wizengamot had taught him that, so he waited, silently, he was always listening and retaining the information that was said and though he knew that the Malfoys were biased, so too had been those around him before. He needed to take each side with a pinch of salt.
He did not like Voldemort's methods, definitely not, they were far too violent, far too discriminate and downright evil…but what Dumbledore had done to him, ruining his childhood as he had, planning to steal everything from him, including his bank vaults, his lordships, and his pureblood heritage, all for himself. It hit closer to home, it made him feel sick. All he wanted was to live, he wanted his own life and he was going to carve one for himself, no matter what it took for him to do so and he didn't care how many bridges he needed to burn for it to happen or how many new bridges he needed to build. He would have his own life, no matter who he needed to ally himself with in order to achieve it.
He swallowed hard and took in a deep breath, keeping his composure. He'd known that this was a high possibility, siding with Voldemort of all people, but in his mind, what Dumbledore had done to him was worse than anything else he'd ever known…it wasn't just keeping his lordships from him, it was keeping a part of his father from him and he couldn't forgive that, he couldn't ever forgive someone keeping a part of his parents from him and especially not something that his father had not only wanted him to have but had actively taken steps to make it possible for him to have.
Yet, it wasn't just the lordships either, it was the theft of his birthright too, something which he had found out was a very serious offence in the wizarding world. It was cases like his that had seen the need for Lucius Malfoy to found the WPM, the Wizardry Protection Movement, in the first place. To help wizards like him who were completely clueless and being led around in the dark over their birthright. Harry had come to learn that everyone had assumed that he'd known about his lordships, his heritage and his status and that he had knowingly and happily left them in the hands of Dumbledore as his proxy, which is why no one had ever told him or questioned him over it…the man's manipulations truly knew no bounds and he couldn't forgive that either.
But it didn't even stop there. Lucius had told him that, as his magical guardian, Dumbledore had been responsible for everything in his life, from his upbringing, to his education, to the very subjects that he took in school.
He'd been told that he'd been put with muggles for the simple reason that if he'd been left with a witch or wizard, then they would have automatically become his magical guardian as well as his custodian guardian. Harry felt sick when he thought of Sirius…who had been innocent all along and should have been his guardian throughout his life. Instead, he'd had Dumbledore, who hadn't told him anything, who had shut him out and kept him ignorant and in the dark while leaving him to rot with the Dursleys while he enjoyed all the benefits of his birthright.
Well, not anymore. Lucius was his adoptive father and his magical guardian now, Lucius had changed him and was moulding him for the better. He'd pushed him so hard that Harry had feared that he'd fall and never get back up again, but so precise and guiding was Lucius' instructions, Harry was always caught by firm hands and set back on his feet before he could hit the floor. He had learnt so much that if he took a moment to think about it all his head spun around until he was dizzy.
But Lucius had taken up his role as his guardian with a fierceness that Harry wouldn't ever have expected. He'd always thought that Draco was spoiled and allowed to get away with murder, but it just wasn't true. Though Draco had mostly everything that he wanted and he got more than most of the kids at Hogwarts did; for example, he got a sweet parcel from Narcissa every month, he sent owls to both of his parents every other day, he had everything and he was spoilt to an extent, but Lucius was a firm and strict father and Harry had seen, and felt, for himself that he was not above punishing either of them if they needed it. Draco was spoilt, but he wasn't ruined like Dudley had been.
This sort of action and consequence routine was completely alien to Harry, who with the Dursleys had been smacked about and punished on a whim, starved and locked away in a cupboard and then in his tiny bedroom that he couldn't get out of…imprisoned in what was supposed to be his home. He admitted, at least to himself, that he'd pushed the Malfoys a little at the beginning, testing to see if there was anything that he could get away with, if the punishment would always be the same if he behaved in different ways. He hadn't been able to help himself as he'd thrown bitch fits and had emotional outbursts and displayed pure, shameful behaviour, but always the punishment fit the crime and he'd never been beaten or even hit with anything that wasn't a few slaps of the hand or a simple charm that was annoying more than it was painful. He'd never been denied food or told he wasn't allowed to have breakfast or dinner, he'd never been locked up or even told to stay in his room. He wasn't punished any harder than Draco himself was, they were treated as equals and that was something that Harry had never known before and he found himself craving it. It was so strange that he even worried that something might be wrong with himself. Yet, it was this mindset that made him want to prove himself even more, he wanted to please Lucius and Narcissa, he wanted to impress them and make them proud of him, as he'd done the same at the Dursleys when he was younger, before he'd come to the realisation that nothing he would ever do would be good enough for them. They were truly despicable people, he had realised that when he'd seen the pride in Lucius' eyes for the very first time, pride aimed at him. When he'd seen for himself those thin lips curl slightly into a smile because of something that he'd done. If Lucius Malfoy, of all people, could feel pride at the things he did and what he'd achieved, then why couldn't his own blood relatives? The people that Dumbledore had happily left him with time and time again, despite Harry begging him not to go back and pleading with him, telling him what they were like, but he was always forced back…always. Because Dumbledore hadn't cared about him and had only wanted his seats on the Wizengamot.
"It seems that you had a more interesting summer than most of us, Draco."
Harry looked up to see that Pansy was sitting next to Draco, one hand on his inner thigh, her fingers brushing incredibly close to his groin, while she looked coyly up at the blonde through her lashes.
"It was eventful." Draco replied simply, but Harry frowned slightly when he heard how throaty Draco's voice had gone. Was he ill?
Blaise Zabini laughed happily and Draco scowled at him.
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