~ Drarry Oneshots ~

Unfortunate Father-In-Law

Draco Malfoy was regretful.

No, not for falling for him.
Not for possibly disappointing his parents.
Not even for that one time he 'accidentally' pushed Blaise down the stairs (he knows exactly what he did to deserve it).

No, Draco was regretful about letting Harry in the same room as his father.

His father, who had a hand in trying to kill him. His father, who was quietly disgusted, at least, by their relationship. His father, who Harry believed was deserving a cell in Azkaban (not that he could disagree).

His father, who his boyfriend hated with a burning passion.

But, of course, these feelings were mutual. In the brief moments that they had interacted, venom and spite had been passed back and forth, constantly. He remembered it with something less than fondness, only amused by the exasperated looks he had shared with his mother: she was equally embarrassed at their partners' public outbursts.

These encounters, however, hadn't been enough to stop his mother from inviting him to high tea, requiring Harry's attendance as well. And so, despite everything they had learned from past experiences, they had ended up in their current situation.

Draco and his mother, similar in their fair hair and prominent cheekbones, sat crossed-ankled in their main parlour. Slim fingers held on lightly to bone china teacups and the silent room buzzed with their delighted chatter, leaving Harry to himself.

Harry, even without an aristocratic upbringing, looked quite belonging in the silver trimmed room. Albeit reluctantly, the bespectacled boy had been coerced into wearing the navy dress robes, that had been bought for this specific occasion. This occasion being: One Of Several Times That Harry Potter Would Likely Try To Kill His Future Father-In-Law.

Anticipating conflict and a chance to rip out someone's throat, Harry lounged in a separate arm chair. Confidence radiated from him as he sat; one leg strewn over the armrest and a forearm draped across the back. Dark hair hung over his forehead and curtained his eyes as his head leant forward, daring their awaited arrival to walk through the doorway.

Narcissa eyed Harry with disinterest and amusement, recognising the familiar brooding of her husband in his darkened eyes. Draco's mind, however, was far from his father.

The darkness that lay behind Harry's eyes ignited a warmth in his abdomen and tugged a smirk onto his face everytime he came into view. The darkness was eventually accompanied by Harry's own smirk, that widened as he scanned Draco more and more.

This smirk dropped without warning as his eyes snapped to the entrance, taking a predatory look. Not the kind of predatory that Draco liked.

His father stood, proud and intimidating, as usual. White hair glowing against his black robes, looking every bit as powerful and fearsome that he had within Draco's childhood. As expected though, Harry was an outlier of the people that caught chills from his father's presence.

Wearing his own brand of confidence, Harry swung his leg off the arm of the chair and stood to greet the room-silencing man.

The smirk remained on his face as they approached each other. The tips of his fingers hid in the dark material of his robes as he, what could only be described as, swaggered towards the head of the house.

"Lucius, 'pleasure to see you..again," he lied blatantly.

He seemed to debate with himself, before holding his hand out to be shaken. Draco had to restrain a laugh at his father's expression, full of anguish and reluctance. Lucius'eyes flickered to his wife, who raised an eyebrow and tilted her head sternly. His eyes rolled slightly and he sighed, shaking the tanned boys hand, loathing to make eye contact.