Son of a Lord

Captured

It was daybreak when Harry awoke, his eyes opening blearily and squinting as the sun beamed in through the window. He sighed, covering his face with his arm, wanting nothing more than to fall back asleep. His muscles ached from yesterday night's battle, and the scar across his chest itched so much it was on the verge of being painful. 

After a moment, a house elf appeared beside the bed, carrying a tray of breakfast. Harry eyed the creature tiredly, not bothered to crucio it for not knocking. 

"Master Harry is having breakfast now," the elf squeaked, placing the tray on the end of the bed, wobbling slightly as the elf's hands shook. "Then Master Harry is to go to his Father's office." 

Harry sat up and the elf flinched back, Harry glared at it before waving his hand, "Leave." 

The elf popped out of Harry's room as fast as it could. 

The tray consisted of a bowl of porridge and eggs with a cup of coffee on the side. Harry grabbed the coffee, draining almost half of it before rubbing his eyes and looking down at his bare chest. The scar was red and inflamed, and Harry resisted the urge to scratch it. He finished the coffee and climbed out of bed, ignoring the food getting cold on the tray. When he checked the time he was surprised to see it was midday, he had slept longer than he thought. 

Harry dressed in a black shirt and pants, smirking slightly to Bella's comment about his shirts the night before. He threw a cloak over the top and attached his wand holster to his wrist and his new knife in his belt. He eyed his mask for a moment before deciding to grab it, he wouldn't want any stray death eaters to die because they saw his face. 

His chest twinged with every step he took, and he wanted nothing more than to sink into one of his Father's chairs and stay there forever. He was tired and angry. Angry at James Potter for having the nerve to show up last night, angry at Sirius Black for calling him a brat, angry that his cut wouldn't. Stop. Itching. 

Suddenly, Harry heard footsteps coming from behind him. As quick as a whip, his mask was on and his wand was in his hand, pointing straight at Draco Malfoy's terrified face. Harry sighed and relaxed, dropping his wand and pulling the mask off. 

"I've told you Draco," Harry said, annoyed, "Don't sneak up on me, one of these days I'm going to kill you." 

Draco laughed, all the tension dropping from his shoulders. Harry had known Draco for almost all of his life. They had grown up together, the two of them. Draco remembered when he left for Hogwarts for the first time, he remembered waving goodbye to Harry on the first of September and coming back at Christmas, seeing Harry's eyes a little darker, seeing him smile less and less. By the time fourth year came, Draco didn't recognise Harry when he came home for the holidays. Draco watched his best friend crucio a man in front of him, and walk away. Harry was ruthless and cruel, and Draco was his best friend. 

"I wasn't sneaking," Draco said, "You're just paranoid." 

Harry scowled, "I have to be." 

"Yeah, yeah I know. The whole 'the world wants to kill me now that they know I'm Voldemort's son' thing." 

Harry smirked, "Jealous?" 

"Of you!" Draco exclaimed, "Get over yourself Harry."

Harry shook his head exasperatedly, "Why're you here?" 

"It was your birthday yesterday, I convinced father to let me see you," Draco explained. His face grew curious, "Did you do anything? I can't imagine the Dark Lord throwing a party." 

Harry laughed, "I went on a mission." 

Draco's eyes widened, "To do what?" 

"Kill a man."