A Dark Lord in the Making

Savoir-Faire

"Is this really necessary?" Harry muttered uncomfortably as Marvolo's nimble fingers tied the ascot tie. The tie was terribly gaudy in Harry's eyes, it even had a paisley print on it. The fabric was a beautiful silver color that worked wonders for Harry's green eyes. The cold color made his dark lashes stand out even more against the bright green of his iris, giving him a charming appearance.

"It's courteous," Marvolo said measuredly, clearly not in the mood for Harry's questions.

"It itches," Harry complained. "And it feels stiff and old-fashioned."

Marvolo's crimson eyes stayed on Harry's neck. Long elegant fingers crept up from the cloth and closed around the boy's narrow neck. He didn't squeeze but could feel the faster throbbing of Harry's heart under the flesh of his hands. The brat's faltering breath was perfect; it gave Marvolo a sense of dominance and a low chuckle escaped him.

"The ascot is a necktie that was worn by soldiers sometime in the 17th century. It is a sign of strength, elegance, and protection of the fragile skin," Marvolo said, still staring deeply. "It should feel stiff, savoir-faire is important."

Harry pursed his lips. "Savoir-faire," he began mockingly, "I don't even know what that means!"

A hand slipped from his neck into his hair and pulled back hard, causing Harry's face to look up. The other hand was still curled around Harry's neck, over his Adam's apple.

"Don't be rude, little tyrant," Marvolo said with remarkable softness, his whole demeanor stiff with suppressed anger. "Don't make fun of me for your own incompetence."

Harry moistened his lips, which had become dry from the strong gulps of oxygen he had swallowed in his terror. "My apologies, father."

Marvolo's lips curled weakly, his hand cupped Harry's cheek. "Savoir-faire is knowing how to act, or decorum. We are going to a Pureblood household in a moment, don't make the mistake that the Malfoy family- because you are a friend of their son- will not judge you on how you present. You are the heir of Slytherin, you are above the Malfoys - our name means much more, has much more influence within the magical community. We will live up to the name."

He straightened and rose to his full stature. Marvolo looked impressive, his clothes molded to his body, showing his well-developed muscles nicely under the thin fabric. Like Harry, he wore an Ascot tie, or Cravat as he liked to call it. His was gold, the patterns matched Harry's, making them a unit. The gold and silver symbolized their mutual bond, the lord and heir- father and son.

Harry straightened his clothes, his shirt wrinkle-free and without any blemish. He looked at Marvolo with a little more confidence, but couldn't help but say something. "Draco is a real git, I don't expect to be received with many warm words. It would rather be the opposite."

Marvolo pinned Harry down with his sharp gaze. "Sometimes I throw a vase on the floor to see it shatter into thousands of pieces. A quick Reparo gets the pieces back together, but it doesn't turn back time. Further investigation always ensures that I find pieces in the wrong places in the vase. It's always different than I expect."

He gave Harry a crooked grin, then pulled himself together and brought his stern persona back to the fore. "It makes no sense to make assumptions, then you only prepare for what is possible - not for reality. Neither of us knows how this conversation will go, all we can do is present ourselves as we are."

Harry looked at Marvolo inquiringly. "And...what are we?"

An almost sinful smile appeared on Marvolo's face, his eyes glittering predatory. "Superior."

***

Harry was now beginning to feel at home in the awkward silence that had ensued in the Malfoy family's dazzling salon. Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy sat on a beautiful blue couch, with Draco in their midst. All were the epitome of elegance and style.