I'm Coming For You, Draco Malfoy!

Roses, Fish'n'Chips, and Tattoos

A/N I've revisited a tattoo (and expanded on it) that I've used in one of my one-shots ('Harry, You're Staring Again') because I absolutely love the concept.

Harry visited again.

Admittedly, it must have been hard for him because my father got to him first. It just so happened that my father was out in the garden, dead-heading his roses, which actually meant just cutting the heads off all the flowers. And although Harry sent me his Patronus to say he was at the gate, father spotted him first and no matter how much I hurried to get there, my father beat me to it.

I arrived just in time to see Harry finish buttoning up his frock-coat and push open the gate and say, 'hello, Lucius' as he held out his hand in greeting as if they were life-long friends. He'd removed his glasses and his hair was tied back neatly, positively smoothed to perfection and revealing a forehead devoid of his famous scar. His hair looked longer because his spells had clearly straightened it all. He was right, he didn't look like 'Harry Potter'. He held himself tall, although he was nowhere near my father's height, or mine, for that matter. Still, he managed to exude the air of someone of authority and importance, despite his boots and the fact that his long robes didn't hide the leather trousers he was wearing. Nor did he hide the fact that his earing glinted more obviously than usual in the sunshine or that he wore more rings than last time I'd seen him, including one that looked remarkably like a Death-Eater's mask on his right-hand index finger.

Remarkably, he managed to look just like someone who was familiar but who you couldn't quite place.

My father looked like he'd been visited by one of the gods as he straightened his ragged shirt and raked his hands through his uncombed hair. At least he'd let mother shave him two days ago, though now he had an untidy blond stubble on his chin and neck.

'My dear man,' the father said, a genuine beam on his face that was normally reserved for mother and those past Christmas mornings before Voldemort became a constant part of our lives. 'It's been too long! Why haven't you been to visit me earlier?'

I admired how Harry took it all in his stride as my father linked arms with him and guided him along one of the many paths around the formal garden. I followed at a discreet distance.

'I've been horribly busy, Lucius. And I had to go away for a while. It's too inconvenient sometimes,' Harry said, managing to convey a surprising formality in his speech.

My father frowned, 'yes, I suppose the Ministry always did like to monopolise you.'

'I'm afraid so. I try to extricate myself from their grips but you know how it is.'

'You mustn't let that Harold Minchum get his claws into you. He likes his cronies and I don't trust him. I think he's a follower...' my father whispered conspiratorially. Unfortunately this happened, sometimes father took himself into a safer, more certain times. Sometimes he lived in alternate reality so it was often hard to tell where he was in his mind. 'I bet you anything he's taken the Dark Mark...' Father grimaced and unconsciously scratched at his own forearm.

Harry leaned closer and dropped his voice, 'between you and me, Lucius, I'm keeping my eye on him.' He tapped the side of his nose.

I was jolted back to Harry's last visit and his mention of Minister Minchum and his connection to Sirius Black's incarceration.

'You know,' my father said. 'You remind me of someone I was at school with but I can't remember his name for the life of me... I must ask Severus... It's completely slipped my mind. Perhaps Cissa will remember. You'll come and have tea with her, she'll love to see you again. Of course, she can't go out much these days, with her condition... I have to stay and look after her. I can't be involving myself in politics at a time like this... my first born is too important...'