The Idiot and The Heir

The First Flaw

Harry found himself very busy at the Malfoys. Between flying with Theo, Draco and Blaise Zabini, (another Slytherin in their year who had arrived the day after Harry did) exploring the Manor together, and proper meals three times a day, Harry only manage to write to Tom late at night, or early in the morning. 

A week after he first arrived, Harry was in the guest room, writing to Tom, when Dobby appeared in the room with a sharp pop!

"Harry Potter, sir! Master has requested your presence for breakfast, sir!"

Harry looked up from his diary, smiling tightly at the odd little house elf.

"I'll be right down, Dobby." He promised.

Dobby's eyes were fixed on his diary, however, and he didn't seem to have heard Harry.

Harry frowned. Dobby was strange, and almost seemed to worship Harry, to his chagrin, but he had never seen the house elf look so shocked.

Lowering his diary, Harry asked,

"Dobby? Are you alright?"

Dobby seemed to shake himself out of his stupor, his large eyes flicked up to meet Harry's, then he bobbed his head.

"Dobbys is fine, sir! Dobby must be going, sir! Chores to be done!"

And with that, Dobby vanished with another loud pop!

Harry stared at the spot where Dobby had been, utterly perplexed at the interaction.

Are you alright, Harry?

Harry glanced down, noticing the new line of ink oozing out of the page.

Shaking off the strange interaction, Harry wrote back,

Yeah. I should head down to breakfast, though. We'll talk later.

Alright, Harry. Try not to stay cooped inside too long.

A rush of warmth filled Harry, as he carefully closed his diary. Tom was worrying about him, even just a little.

Harry tucked his diary under the pillow, where it would be out of sight, and capped his inkwell. His writing had been getting better, as Mrs. Malfoy insisted that the boys spend at least an hour every day on their school books, even if they already completed their summer assignments. All the practice, plus writing to Tom, had made Harry's handwriting more legible, even if it was nowhere near the other boys' elegant calligraphy. Tom had even praised him on his progress a couple days ago.

Harry set his inkwell and quill on the desk that sat against the wall next to the large glass doors that opened onto a large balcony. Then, straightening the robes Theo had gifted him, he headed for the door into the hall.

The first day of his stay at Malfoy Manor, Draco had brought up the subject of clothes, as Harry had been wearing glaringly secondhand Muggle clothes, whereas the others wore the more typical wizarding fashion; robes. Upon Harry's embarrassed admission that he had only school robes, the two boys had whisked him off to Theo's guest room, where Harry's best friend had dug out several pairs of everyday robes, that he assured Harry vehemently he never wore, because of the over abundance of clothes his father insisted he have. 

After being assured several more times by both boys, that Theo would not miss them in the slightest, Harry had acquiesced to their kindness, promising himself to get Theo an especially nice Christmas present that year.