The Beginning
Harry was frozen in shock as he stared at the man in front of him. He discreetly pinched his arm to be sure he wasn’t dreaming, because there was no way Lucius Malfoy was in the same hotel as him, in the muggle world. Was it some kind of hallucination caused by his head banging on the door?
“Well, are you going to say something or has the cat got your tongue?” the man asked with amusement.
Harry was at loss for words, it was like he had ended in another dimension. Lucius Malfoy in full regalia as always, but he was dressed in muggle clothes. He looked really good, like one of those aristocrats from old royalty he sometimes saw on the TV.
“Wh–what are you doing here? Did you follow me or something?” Harry asked dazily. As much as he wanted to know more about the man’s presence in London, he really needed him to go away. If his uncle saw that another wizard was here, it would be the end of him.
“Please Potter, as if I have nothing better to do than follow you around. I’m not one of your fanatical little supporters,” Malfoy sneered, “No, as hard as it is to believe, us being in the same hotel is strictly a strange coincidence.”
“Fine… Then what do you want?” Harry asked impatiently, crossing his arms in a defensive position and looking out the door to see if his uncle was coming back.
Malfoy realized what he was doing and gave him a self-assured smirk.
“Don’t worry boy, I already had a “word” with your…uncle.”
Harry gasped in panic, “What? What do you mean?”.
Oh god. Was Lucius Malfoy about to blackmail him or something? What had the man seen?
“I happened to stumble on your… disagreement. I think I managed to convince your uncle to reconsider his behavior toward you. I despise people who abuse children, especially disgusting muggles. That man won’t be putting a finger on you anytime soon if he knows what’s good for him.” The man growled.
Harry wanted to puke. Of all people to witness his uncle beating him up, it had to be Lucius freaking Malfioy. Sweat was starting to form down his back and his heart was beating more quickly. He felt faint. Harry lowered his head and squeezed his arms around himself in protection.
“I– I’m not abused.”
“Really? I know what abuse looks like.” The man grabbed one of Harry’s arms and pulled his sleeve up, showing the mass of bruises on his arms. Harry tried to get his arm back but the grip was too strong.
“These didn’t appear by themselves.”
“I jus–”
“-Don’t tell me it was because you fell, please.” Malfoy cut him up impatiently, “We don’t have to talk about it. I just wanted you to know that you don’t need to worry about your uncle hitting you again. And if he does…then…”
Malfoy didn’t finish his sentence, but the malicious gleam in his eyes spoke volumes, promising dire consequences.
“You didn’t hurt him, did you?”
The man scoffed, “I didn’t. Nothing visible anyway. If he keeps his part of the deal, then nothing will happen to him, simple as that.”
Harry couldn’t help but feel a tiny bit relieved by the man’s words. He didn't really understand why the man was helping him but he was grateful nonetheless. His uncle had truly scared him and he could breathe a little better knowing he wouldn’t be beaten horribly when they got home. At least he hoped so.
He didn’t really wish death on the Dursleys, but he could admit to himself that he sometimes hoped they suffered for what they did to him.
“Alright, I believe you. Thanks, I guess…if that’s all, I’ll get back inside.” Harry started closing the door but Malfoy was quicker and stopped it with his foot.
“No need to get shy on me now.”
“I’m not shy!” Harry spluttered.
“Good, then I’m sure you won’t be against me taking you out to dinner, won’t you? After that pig’s fiasco in the dining hall, you must be quite famished.”
“What?” Harry asked stupidly. The evening was definitely getting stranger and stranger.
“There is this new restaurant I want to try, It will be my pleasure to invite you. I happen to know the owner and he has been nagging me to come. Don’t worry your pretty little head, I’ll be paying.”
Harry blushed, feeling a strange squirming feeling in his stomach. He looked at Malfoy with suspicion. What did the man want? Was it some kind of ploy to kidnap him?
“Why?”
Malfoy let out a sigh, trying to find an excuse for the invite.
“Must you always ask so many questions? I just want to spend a quiet evening, at a good restaurant, in good company. I think it would be a nice way to get to know each other a bit. After all, you are going to become an esteemed member of society very soon. You must have a lot of questions that I could answer for you.”
Harry thought about the proposition. Could he really trust the man? Probably not. And wouldn’t it be weird to have dinner with the father of his school rival?
“Would you really prefer to spend the rest of the evening starving and waiting worriedly for your family to come back? Come with me and at least you will have a stomach full of delicious food. And when you’ll come back they will all be asleep.”
It was really tempting. Perhaps he would even be able to avoid sleeping on the balcony.
“I don’t know… What if people see us, won’t it be strange? They’ll report it everywhere in the wizarding world.” he tried to argue, but he knew he had already made up his mind.
“We’re in London, Potter. The only one who could see us would be muggleborns, and don’t worry, none of them have the money to eat where we’re going.” Malfoy scoffed.
Oh god, he was doomed. He was going to embarrass himself so much.
“Fine.” Harry said in defeat.
“No need to look like you’re sent to your death, Potter. It’s only dinner. Take your things and let’s get going then.”
“What, right now?” he asked in panic.
Malfoy raised an eyebrow at him.
“Yes. It’s already 8 PM after all. Or do you have somewhere else you need to be?”
“No…Alright then.” Harry took a deep breath to give himself some courage, and got out of the room. He was about to close the door when Malfoy put a hand on his shoulder to stop him.
“Aren’t you going to take a coat? I know it’s the start of spring Potter, but surely you know it’s still cold outside at this hour?” Malfoy said with a frown, “And why aren’t you wearing the clothes I bought you? Surely they’re better than… whatever this is," he added with a mou of disgust.
Heat crept up Harry’s neck as shame settled in his chest. Why did the man always have to comment on the state of his clothes? Couldn’t he just pretend not to notice that Harry looked like a pauper?
He swallowed his embarrassment and muttered, "Well, I didn’t want my family to see them and throw them away." Then, after a brief hesitation, he added, "And I don’t have a coat."
Why was he even justifying himself to the man?
Malfoy studied him in silence for a moment, his gaze unwavering as Harry shifted nervously. Then, at last, he seemed to relent
“Nevermind, it seems it can’t be helped. Just take my arm, I’ll apparate us near the restaurant.”
Harry blushed as he put his hand on Malfoy’s arm. He could feel the warmth of his skin through the expensive cloth. Now, if only he managed not to puke when they apparated.
“Hold tight,” was his only warning before everything started spinning.
His feet suddenly hit the group and his body swayed from disorientation. He nearly stumbled forward before a strong arm caught him around the waist and pulled him tight against a warm body.
“You’re a menace, Potter.” Lucius said into his ear, still holding on to him. Harry could feel all the hard muscles of Malfoy’s abs against his back. The man was really fit for his age while Harry felt like a twig ready to be sent flying into the wind.
Lucius couldn’t help but hold the boy against him a bit longer than necessary, his hand brushing lightly along his stomach to go rest on his waist. The boy had a small stature naturally, but Lucius could tell the boy was malnourished. He wouldn’t be surprised if his muggle family starved him considering the earlier interaction, but it still filled Lucius with rage.
He could see the top of the boy’s ear redden, and he had to stop himself from leaning over to blow on it. The boy was obviously uncomfortable, so he let him go. He wasn’t here to seduce him after all.
Potter was definitely underdressed for the place he planned to take him to, but even transfiguring his clothes wouldn't do any miracle at this point.
Before the boy had the time to argue, Lucius gently pushed the boy out of the dark street toward a massive ornate building.
The facade of the restaurant loomed before them. Harry felt incredibly small and out of place once again.
As they approached the front desk, the waiter stationed there glanced up, his expression momentarily flickering with surprise before he swiftly masked it. His professional smile wavered just a fraction as his eyes settled on Harry's worn jeans and faded shirt. They were his best clothes to be honest, only for special occasions.
"Good evening, sir," the waiter greeted Malfoy, his tone polite but not entirely welcoming. "Do you have a reservation?"
"I do. Malfoy," he replied smoothly, and Harry wasn’t the least bit surprised that he hadn’t even bothered with a fake name.
The waiter hesitated, his gaze flickering between Lucius and Harry. "Ah, I see. Very well. Let me check for your reservation."
As the waiter typed on the computer, or at least pretended to, his eyes kept straying toward Harry with barely concealed disdain. Harry shifted uneasily, feeling acutely aware of his appearance and the judgment in the waiter's eyes.
Finally, the waiter cleared his throat. "I'm terribly sorry, but it appears there have been some kind of mistake in your reservation. I’m afraid we’re already fully booked this evening."
Malfoy’s brow arched imperceptibly, his voice still measured. "Are you certain? I find that hard to believe, as the man who took my reservation told me it would be pretty quiet this evening."
The waiter's professional face cracked ever so slightly. "He was mistaken. Perhaps, sir, you might consider dining at another establishment more suited to your preferences... and attire."
Harry felt a pit of shame inside his stomach. He thought Malfoy might simply ditch him for the evening, but the man’s demeanor actually underwent a chilling transformation. His voice remained low, but a cold edge underscored each word. "I assure you, we are quite prepared to dine here. Money is of no concern. Now, I suggest you find us a table immediately."
The waiter paled, perhaps sensing he was in front of a bigger predator. However, his stubbornness seemed unwavering. "Sir, there are other places better suited—"
“Malfoy, that’s ok, I’ll just go back to–”
“No.” The man’s patience snapped. His voice grew even sharper and his tone was laced with a dangerous undertone. "I don't believe you understood me. This is not a request. This is an order and a warning. If you continue to challenge my patience, you may find yourself in a rather unpleasant situation. I want to speak to your superior."
Malfoy’s threat sounded way more convincing than Uncle Vernon’s previous attempt at the restaurant.
The waiter straightened his shoulder, trying to appear more imposing despide the false bravado.
“Sir, I will ask you to lea–”
“Alright, it seems you leave me no choice.”
Harry was scared the man was about to pull out his wand to curse the waiter, but Malfoy simply took out a muggle phone, tapped on it and waited for the unknown person on the other side to answer while leveling the waiter with an icy glare.
“Alessandro? Yes, it’s Lucius–” The man moved away to take the call while Harry awkwardly waited in front of the waiter. The call didn’t last more than 5 minutes before Malfoy came back next to him, putting his hand on his back reassuringly.
It wasn’t long before a small bald man with an expensive three piece suit rushed down the hall of the restaurant, calling the waiter to him with a flick of his hand. Seeing Harry's confused expression, Lucius bent down to whisper in his ear, making Harry shiver. “The owner of the restaurant is an acquaintance of mine.”
It seemed the discussion wasn’t going very well for the waiter who had a disconfit expression on his face and was moving his hand around in agitation. The conversation came to an end with the waiter storming off angrily, before the small man approached them.
“Lucius, my friend! I’m terribly sorry for the misunderstanding! That man has been fired immediately, as he is not fit to represent our notorious establishment and our esteemed clients.”
The man went to shake Malfoy’s hand, some sweat gathering on his forehead, but let it fall when Lucius didn’t move to take it. His eyes flickered toward Harry for a second, a look of confusion at his presence.
“It’s alright Alessandro, mistakes happen. I’m not one to hold a grudge.” Malfoy said, insisting on the word “grudge” like a weapon.
Harry tried not to snort. It was the funniest thing he had heard tonight.
“Allow me to introduce you to my guest, Harry–” Harry looked at him in panic, hoping the man wouldn’t use his real name. “–Evans”.
“Well, nice to meet you, my boy?” The eyes of the man flickered between Malfoy and him a couple of times, probably trying to guess the relation between them. It was obvious they were from completely different worlds.
“And how did you two meet…?” There seemed to be a strange undertone to the question.
Malfoy raised his eyebrow in an expression Harry couldn’t decipher. He felt he had missed an important part of the conversation.
“Oh nothing outrageous I promise, Harry is a friend of my son, and we just happened to run into each other. The poor boy had a terrible day so I thought we could spend a relaxing evening in your restaurant. I see the money I invested has been nicely spent, the place is beautiful. I hope it continues to surpass my expectations…”
The owner dabbed a small towel on his forehead, laughing nervously.
“Of course, my friend. I am most grateful for your contribution, this place wouldn’t exist without you. Come, come, I will personally find the best place for you and your friend.”
The man led them to a small alcove next to a window. The table was hidden by a Japanese screen and plants that gave them some privacy, which Harry was grateful for. He didn't want to be ogled at by rich people anymore.
Harry was about to sit down when Lucius courteously pulled out the chair for him with a mischievous smile. Harry's cheeks flushed in surprise and embarrassment, not used to such formalities. The man sat down regally in front of him, as if all of this was perfectly normal for him, and it probably was.
A waiter approached, placing menus in front of Malfoy and him, before departing without a word. At least this one wasn't as rude as the previous one.
Harry’s gaze settled on the menu, his eyes widening as he scanned the list of meals. It all sounded like gibberish to him once again, but he was too embarrassed to ask Malfoy about it. What caught his attention, however, was the conspicuous absence of prices next to each dish. He frowned, puzzled.
Lucius observed Harry's confusion with a cocky smile. "Ah, I see you've noticed the absence of prices. This establishment has an old tradition: menus without prices are typically given to the ladies. As my guest, you're considered similar to a lady for the evening."
Harry's cheeks turned a shade of pink he was sure matched the linen tablecloth. He opened his mouth to speak, but the words seemed to elude him.
Lucius continued, his tone casual. "It is a tradition based on a rather outdated notion, but either way, since you won’t be paying this evening, It is somewhat fitting don’t you think?"
Harry felt both relieved and annoyed at Malfoy’s audacity. He really wanted to smack the smirk from the man’s face.
He settled his attention back on the menu, ignoring the other man. Unfortunately he still didn't know what all the dishes were and his anxiety was starting to rise.
“Do you see anything you like?”
“Hum…”
Malfoy looked at him knowingly. “Would you like me to order for both of us, since I am familiar with most of these dishes. Just tell me if you have any allergies or food you dislike.”
Harry tried to hide his sigh of relief. He really was quite pathetic, unable to even order his own meal at a restaurant.
“No allergies, and I don’t really know anything I might dislike. Order me anything you want.” he answered flippantly.
Despite his tone, there was something freeing about letting someone else make the decision for him and not have to think about anything.
It was a weird contradiction, wanting to be independent and make his own decisions, but at the same time liking that someone could take them for him.
Too bad he didn’t trust anyone to make that kind of life decision for him. He wondered if it was what people felt like when they had parents or significant others. It was quite nice… Not that he saw Malfoy as a father figure, that would be way too weird.
The waiter from before appeared once again and asked if they wanted anything to drink. Malfoy looked at him questioningly, but Harry’s brain was as blank as a white page.
“We’ll take a bottle of Sassicaia and some water please. For the meal, I think we will choose the Truffle Risotto and Grilled aubergines. As for dessert, we will get the Panna Cotta”.
Once the waiter had gone with their order, Malfoy focused his attention on him once again, making Harry squirm a bit in his chair.
“So, Potter.” he began, his voice measured, “How are you doing?”
Harry looked at the man incredibly “Really? That’s what you’re going to ask after all that?”
“Well, it is only polite to open the conversation with something light. It wouldn’t be very polite of me to ask uncomfortable questions from the start. I don’t want you to run away after all.”
“Yeah, well I’d prefer it actually. Just go straight to the point. I hate it when people talk around important subjects with stupid questions like ‘How are you doing Harry?’ or ‘Is everything alright?’ or ‘Did something happen?’.”
Harry fiddled with the napkin in front of him. “Then I have to waste time trying to decipher hiddens meanings, and it makes me doubt people's intentions. I don’t want to spend my nights wondering if people are genuinely worried about me or if they only want something from me, you know?”
Malfoy hummed, a look of understanding in his eyes. The waiter arrived with the wine and poured them both a glass at Malfoy’s demand.
“Alright. Then tell me more about your family then. “
Harry sighed dejectedly, “What about them?”
“Well how did you end up with them for a start? I know there were a lot of wizarding families who wanted to take you in after Voldemort’s first demise, it would have been better than being placed with muggles.”
“Really? I didn’t know that. Well, my aunt is my mother’s sister, and from what they told me I was put on their doorstep as a baby the night of my parent’s death, so they didn’t really get a choice in taking me in.”
“You were left on their doorstep as a baby, in the middle of the winter night?” Malfoy repeated with incredulity.
“Yeah I know it sounds bad… but Hagrid said I was wrapped up in a blanket.”
“Well, if you were wrapped in a blanket, I guess that’s alright, then.” The man said sarcastically, “Of course the stupid oaf had to be involved somehow. Dumbledore always has to put his nose where it doesn’t belong. A baby, even in a blanket, outside a house in winter is beyond the realm of unsafe.”
“I guess.” Harry tried not to think about it most of the time. There was no need to rehash the past when he couldn’t change it.
“What about your life at home? If the bloody muggle acts like that in public, I don’t want to imagine how he treats you at home.”
Harry hesitated. He had never openly spoken about his life with the Dursleys, not even to his closest friends. Would it really be so bad to tell someone? Malfoy had already seen the truth for himself anyway. But what if he told others?
Malfoy hadn’t given him any reason to distrust him, yet they were still practically strangers. Still, the idea of confiding in someone neutral was tempting.
"It's complicated," Harry began slowly, "They're my only family. They just don’t like magic…"
Lucius raised an eyebrow, a hint of skepticism in his gaze. "But they certainly don’t treat you like a family member, right? You don’t need to protect them Potter, you don’t owe them anything."
"Well, I kinda do, in a way," he said defensively. "They could have sent me to an orphanage instead. And Professor Dumbledore said their house protects me from Death Eaters because of a blood ward."
Malfoy sneered “You should have never ended up there in the first place. Dumbledore should have let the ministry place you in a wizarding family instead of meddling in. What he did was illegal, stealing a baby and placing him without even reading the parent's wills. Also, there are a lot of magical ways to protect someone, some as good as a bloodward. What good does it do if it protects you from what is outside the house but not what is inside?”
"Well…" Harry began hesitantly. It sounded far more reasonable coming from the man's mouth.
He was about to speak again when their meal arrived. It smelled delicious. Harry took a bite of his risotto and nearly moaned at the flavor filling his mouth. He had never eaten something so delicious, but he forced himself to eat slower when he saw the distinguished way Malfoys ate his meal.
“So, tell me more please. How do your “family” treat you behind closed doors?
The man seemed oddly fixated on the matter.
"How do I know you won’t repeat this to someone else? I’ve already said too much. Why do you care anyway?" Harry muttered, anxiously twisting his sleeve.
Malfoy was silent for a moment before letting out an exasperated sigh. "Would it make you feel better if I swore a magical oath not to reveal anything about your home life that you don’t want me to? As for why I care… I care because I’m on the Hogwarts Board of Governors, Potter. As such, I have a responsibility to ensure the well-being of every student. It enrages me to know a child is enduring abuse in silence, and yet, no one does a damn thing about it." He paused, his gaze steady and piercing. "Dumbledore knows, and still, nothing changes…" he said while viciously stabbin his vegetables.
Harry studied the man for a moment, realizing he wasn’t as terrible as people made him out to be. "You would really swear an oath?" he asked hesitantly.
Malfoy discreetly took out his wand and repeated the vow, a pale golden light surrounding him. It was fortunate the screen was hiding them from the other clients.
“So, tell me.” Malfoy repeated.
Harry looked around before leaning over and whispering with a bit of shame, “Well you know how it was, they treat me… pretty badly.”
He didn’t elaborate as his voice felt suddenly tight, like the words couldn’t get out. Malfoy seemed to sense his reluctance and discomfort.
“Do they starve you?” the man said, looking pointedly at his own meal, as if disinterested. It made it easier to respond, like they were simply discussing the weather.
“Yes.”
“Do they hit you?”
“Sometimes.”
“Do they insult you?”
“Usually.” he choked.
For a moment, Lucius' eyes flashed with a hint of suppressed anger, his hand momentarily clenching the stem of his wine glass.
“What about your cousin? Is he like his father or does he treat you better?”
“He hates me too. He pushes me around. He got me in a lot of trouble at muggle school. He even invented the game ‘Harry hunting’ with his goons…”
“And you aunt?”
He shrugged weakly. “She doesn’t hit me. She just gives me chores to do around the house, cooking, cleaning, gardening, that sort of thing. She mostly turns her eyes away when my uncle is … you know… hurting me. Sometimes, when I’m in really bad shape, she gives me meds through the door of my cupboard, or she gives me an extra piece of bread…”
“That’s hardly better. And did you just say your cupboard?” A cold chill ran down Harry's spine at Lucius’ deadly tone. Harry wiggled into his chair, finger fidgeting with his napkin.
“Hum...” He hadn’t meant to let it slip out, and now he didn’t know how to cover it up.
Should he lie and say he had simply used the wrong word? Or should he pretend that they only put him there when he was really bad?”
Malfoy’s hand tightened into the armchair, as if ready to rip it off. “Would you care to explain, because I want to know if you meant what I think you meant, and if I have to rush to Dumbledore's office to strangle him with his bloody beard?”
Harry stopped the inappropriate giggle that threatened to get out of his mouth.
He settled for the truth, after all, had he not asked the same of Malfoy at the start of dinner?
“The Dursley have always been scared of me and of my magic, so they wanted to keep me out of the way from the start. There is this cupboard under the stairs, and that’s where they decided to put me, so it became my bedroom until last year. Now they’ve given me Dudley’s second bedroom after Sirius threatened them.”
Harry saw the man closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. Harry recognized the move from his relaxation practice.
“What I’m wondering is, why don’t you go live somewhere else? Surely you know you have money left from your family? You could use that money to buy yourself a house. Or even go live with that stupid godfather of yours. The ministry shouldn’t oppose it, since he’s been pardoned.”
Harry looked dejected at his plate.
“Well, despite what people think, I don't have that much money in my family vault. A lot of it was used during the first war for secret houses, equipment and such. I’m still left with a bit of money but it’s not enough to live on my own for several years.”
Harry took a deep breath. “I know my clothes and stuff are hand me downs, but I don’t want to spend my inheritance uselessly, at least not until I can earn my own money. As for living with Sirius, well, I don’t want to be a bother to him... He has only just been released from Azkaban, and he probably needs some space to adjust.”
Lucius raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. "You think he needs space more than he needs his godson? It seems to me that having you there would be a comfort. Does he know how your family is treating you? I’m sure he’d jump at the chance to help you."
Harry sighed dejectedly. "Maybe, but there are other issues too. The house needs a lot of work. Cleaning, warding, making it safe to live in. It’s not ready for anyone, let alone me. Sirius has enough on his plate without having to worry about me on top of everything else."
The man looked ready to argue with him more, but stopped himself. “I see... Well your uncle shouldn’t bother you anymore, but I should probably make sure that your aunt and cousin don’t misstep as well.” Malfoy was looking at his glass pensively, probably thinking about all the spells he could put on his family, but Harry much preferred to avoid any more complications.
“Don’t, please… They’re not as bad, and I’m sure they’ll come around if they see my uncle ignoring me.”
“Fine,” the man relented with disappointment.
The rest of the meal unfolded with lighter topics of conversation. They mostly talked about Hogwarts, and the curriculum. The man explained the basic functioning of the Wizenmaggot and he even made Harry laugh a couple of times with snarky impersonations of Professor Dumbledore. Who knew the man could be funny.
All in all, Harry had spent a marvelous evening, and he was disappointed to go back to the real world. Lucius Malfoy was not as bad as he thought. Sure, the man could be narcissistic, haughty and pompous but he was also quite accessible, snarky and very knowledgeable.
But most of all he was quite distinguished, elegant and could he say it, sexy? Harry didn’t count the number of times he had blushed when Malfoy’s magnetic eyes had rested on him.
Lucius Malfoy signaled discreetly to the waiter, indicating that he was ready to settle the bill. Harry observed this with a bit of a pout, not entirely sure what to expect. After a brief exchange, the waiter presented Lucius with the elegant leather-bound billfold.
Malfoy glanced at Harry, his lips curving into a smile. "Don’t look at me like I stole your kitten, Potter. I doubt you really want to pay the bill after what you told me about the state of your finances."
Harry knew better than to argue. Even if he had his pride, he didn’t want to lose his life savings over dinner.
The man gracefully took the billfold and opened it, his expression inscrutable. After a moment, Lucius retrieved his wallet and took out a black muggle credit card, then carefully closed the billfold.
The man also left a small wad of money on the table, and Harry counted 70 pounds.
“What is that for?” Harry asked in confusion. Surely it wasn’t a tip right? Harry tried to remember the last time he had gone to a restaurant with his family. Wasn’t a tip supposed to be like 5 pounds for a meal or something?
“A tip of course, as is proper in such an establishment.”
“Don’t you think that’s a bit much?”
A brief twitch appeared at the corner of Malfoy’s mouth, revealing the amusement he was trying to conceal.
“Of course not, it’s only about 10% of the whole meal, which is pretty standard for a high end restaurant.”
Harry jerked back in shock, his mouth opening a couple of times like a fish out of water. He wasn’t that bad at math not to realize that it meant their whole meal had cost about 700 pounds for two people…
He blinked as the implication sank in. The extravagant atmosphere of the restaurant suddenly felt even more oppressive. He was struck by the realization that he was dining in a place where an average meal cost more than he ever could spend in a year.
"Merlin... I had no idea, it’s too much." Harry stuttered.
Lucius chuckled softly, a touch of pride in his tone. "One learns to appreciate the finer things in life. Money can buy you the best there is, and I would be a fool not to indulge.”
Harry found himself torn between pleasure and shame. A flush of embarrassment crept up his neck as he realized that he was actually quite enjoying this unexpected display of affluence, despite what Dumbledore had said about it being in poor taste. In that moment, surrounded by the grandeur of the restaurant, he saw a glimpse of a lifestyle he was too afraid to admit he secretly wanted.
Wasn’t he betraying his principles by taking pleasure in this moment? Shouldn't he try to reject this lavishness? Was he not supposed to stand firmly against what his friend and family had taught him to distrust? Wasn’t Ron always moaning about rich people and all the money they always flaunted into everyone's faces when others couldn’t afford it?
When was the last time he had listened to Ron’s opinion anyway?
Despite the moral tugs-of-war that waged within him, Harry couldn't deny the surge of pleasure that accompanied the experience. It wasn't just about the material luxury, but also about the unspoken message – someone cared enough to provide for him.
Harry could feel Lucius' stare, his every reaction carefully noted and stored somewhere inside the man’s mind, leaving him feeling strangely exposed. Malfoy’s demeanor was poised and composed, but he looked entirely too satisfied.