{Summary}: SLASH LV/HPLucius and Narcissa are surprised to learn they have conceived twin boys. Voldemort is asking for the firstborn child of his inner-circle members. Thinking it's an honor, Lucius offers Voldemort the healthy child, Draco, who happens to be the younger twin. Harry, the true eldest, soon discovers that the ritual Voldemort plans to construct is intended to eat the children's magic once they are of age.

{Disclaimer}: I own nothing in the Harry Potter world.

Edited: 3.24.2012

1. Without A Soul

A lone candle sat on the bedside table, casting deep and unnerving shadows across the dark room. Upon the bed, an aristocratic woman was panting rapidly, her face screwed up in discomfort. Her porcelain skin was layered thickly with shimmering sweat and her hands were fisted in the silk sheets. Lungs burning, she screamed, the potions no veiling the entirety of the pain. "One more push, Narcissa." The Healer looked uncertainly up at the trembling woman.

Next to the bed, Lucius Malfoy paced back and forth, his mercury eyes assessing his wife, searching for signs of failing health. Outside, he knew his Lord stood. The Dark Lord was waiting to mark their firstborn child, an honor, no doubt. Lucius was privileged to have such a strong wizard take an interest in his son. Unfortunately, he wasn't the first Death Eater to have his son marked. Goyle, Crabbe, and Nott already had sons that were marked, as well as the Parkinson daughter.

"Come now, Cissy." Lucius was anxious, but his pacing would most definitely make Narcissa cross. "You can do it, my sweet." His jewel-clad hand brushed back her white hair in attempt to give her comfort.

"It's a boy, Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy."

Lucius whirled around, surprised. He hadn't heard any cries. The Healer stood up, cradling a bloody newborn. Lucius' smile froze and faltered. The baby had tuffs of midnight black hair and it was incredibly small. "Is…" he paused, throwing Narcissa a cautious look. "Is he alive?" he inquired softly. No matter, Narcissa overheard anyway and gave a choked sob. Though, her face contorted in pain again and screamed breathlessly.

"He appears to be healthy." The man paused, eyes wide as he examined Narcissa. "There is another child." The Healer passed the silent baby over to his assistant, who in return, cleaned the child.

Lucius swallow thickly, his lips turning downward. "Another?" he mouthed incredulously toward the Healer, who had taken position near Narcissa's open legs. Twins weren't impossible, but they weren't common in the Dark pure-blooded families. Instead it was a pathetically common trait among Light families. The Weasleys had twins.

No matter. He would raise them accordingly.

Narcissa threw her head back against the headboard and screamed. And with her, a child joined her screams in harmony. Lucius squeezed her hand, watching as she soon sagged in exhaustion. The Healer stood up once again with another precious bundle. Pride swept through Lucius as he noticed this child was screaming and already possessed blond hair. The youngest twin was the larger, a more healthy weight. "You did fabulous, my dear," Lucius cooed and she smiled tiredly up at him.

"Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy, you gave birth to two beautiful boys." The Healer placed the two bundles upon Narcissa's chest.

The two stared down at the boys, immediately noticing the differences. "He's defiantly a Black," Narcissa indicated toward the firstborn, an attempt to lighten the mood. The small baby blinked opened his eyes, showing shocking green irises. It was a highly uncommon trait among newborn children who often possessed blue eyes initially.

"Narcissa," Lucius sneered, coming to a shocking conclusion. She couldn't have possibly...

The woman gave a small laugh. "Regulus had green eyes, Lucius. And Bella used to have dark green before they turned black." Her blue eyes studied the silent and content baby. "His name should be Harrison Regulus Malfoy."

"But I thought we agreed on—"

"This one here can be Draco Lucius Malfoy." The blond baby cried, his wet blue eyes staring up at his father.

Lucius reached down to run his finger down the screaming child's face. Though, he straightened suddenly when he felt the Dark Lord's presence silently enter the room. The man's power was suffocating, causing Draco to cry harder. Harrison, on the other hand, blinked stupidly up at the ceiling.

"Which is the firstborn child, Lucius?" Voldemort's voice was a soft hiss, caressing every occupant in the room into an unconscious calm.

Lucius hesitated. Did it really matter if one child was seconds older than the other? He wanted his Lord to have the healthy child who would be capable of upholding his Lord's expectation. He refused to give the Dark Lord a fragile wizard, the face of the Malfoy family.

"My Lord," Lucius began, picking up Draco. Narcissa's eyes widened in slight bemusement but she dared not to speak out. She understood his reasoning's and was smart enough not to draw attention to them. "May I present you, Draco Lucius Malfoy, my firstborn heir and your loyal follower." He cradled the blond child to his chest and turned toward the Dark Lord.

The wizard flashed a sinister smile as he held out his hands for Draco. "Precious." Split-crimson eyes danced around Lucius' shoulder at the other child. "Twins, Lucius?"

Lucius only bowed his head in agreement, feeling the back of his neck burn hotly. Through lowered lids, he watched as Draco quieted down in the Dark Lord's arms, probably in response to the man's magic. Lord Voldemort then unrolled the blanket, revealing Draco's pink ankle. Placing a long, pale finger on Draco's skin, the Dark Lord murmured a Latin incantation. A smoky ring surrounded Draco's ankle before a small, barely noticeable serpent was branded on the baby's skin.

"Once they all become of age," Voldemort started, dropping Draco's ankle. "We will be more powerful than imaginable."

His crimson eyes slowly slid past Lucius and onto the other slumbering child, his expression turning dark and pensive.

Lucius' eyes widened a fraction and his pulse raced. Had the Dark Lord somehow found out that Draco was not the firstborn? Lucius remembered reading about rituals and twins. Usually the old magic couldn't distinguish between the eldest and the youngest. It was why he thought presenting the healthy child to the Dark Lord wouldn't cause any hitch in the ritual. He refused to have a weak offspring as the face of the Malfoy family.

Before he could explain his reasoning, the Dark Lord turned to look at him once again, pushing Draco into his arms. "Enjoy your new family, Lucius."

Lucius bowed his head. "Thank you, My Lord."

-SSC-

Harrison sighed, shutting his book as his brother's yells sounded on the other side of his door.

"Hurry up, Harrison." Draco slammed his fists against his door in continued repetition. "The Dark Lord will be here soon."

The six-year-old growled low in his throat and stood up. The robes his mother ordered him to wear were tight and constricting, he could barely move. All he wanted to do was go outside and play or read a book. Instead he had to mingle with other pure-bloods, at least that's what his father said. Harry never enjoyed playing with the other children his age. They didn't like him and he didn't like them.

He escaped his room, watching as Draco rushed away from his door and toward the front entrance of the house. Reluctantly, Harry followed suit. The other children; Theodore Nott, Gregory Goyle, Vincent Crabbe, and Pansy Parkinson were already here with their parents. Whenever they gathered together like this, the children always left him out of their games. They laughed at him and teased him for being looking different from a Malfoy. His eyes were bright green, his hair was black, and he was small for his age. He tried to tell them he looked more like a Black, it was what his mother said on many occasions before, but the children never seemed to listen.

Usually he could get out from these gatherings, but his presence was required out of respect for the Dark Lord. Harry didn't exactly know what it meant to be labeled as a 'Dark Lord', but the man always interested him.

His father gave him a disproving glare as he stumbled off the bottom stair ungracefully. The Dark Lord had already arrived, his robes a deep black and silver. The man always smelt good to Harry, almost like a flower, perhaps a lilac. When he asked his father about it, Lucius had grimaced down at him and told him the Dark Lord did not smell like any flower. And then Harry was ordered to watch his tongue next time.

Harry stepped in line with the rest of the children. He avoided Draco's elbow to the stomach by leaning away and bowing his head toward the Dark Lord. "Hello, My Lord," he chorused in unison with the rest of the children.

"Hello, children."

Harry shivered. Without permission, he snuck a quick look up at the Dark Lord. Crimson eyes locked with his own and Harry hurriedly looked back down, a blush staining his cheeks. He listened as the adults swept past them, entering the sitting room. Seconds later, the children jogged after the adults and sat in the room's far corner, circling around each other and whispering. They all sent Harry a glare and continued on laughing with one another.

Harry shrugged and turned his heel to escape them. His fantasy book upstairs had such vibrant colored pictures. He especially loved the way they were able to move.

"Harrison," his name was called out. "Come sit with us."

Harry froze on the first step, not know how he felt about being called out by the Dark Lord. The man never spoke to him before. Slowly, vibrant green eyes peeked around the iron-wrought railings and into the sitting room. The Dark Lord had a small smirk upon his face and the rest of the adult were looking at Harry intensely.

"Come now," the Dark Lord reassured, sounding slightly impatient.

"Harrison," Lucius warned darkly as soon as he noticed Harry was not moving from the staircase. "Quickly—"

"Hush, Lucius," the red-eyed man threatened softly.

Harry took a deep breath and sluggishly made his way over, his head down. He stopped near the silver and black robes, awaiting his orders. Suddenly, long and thin fingers placed themselves on his shoulders. One of the index fingers danced over and lifted his chin. Harry met the Dark Lord's amused stare.

"Why aren't you with your friends?" The Dark Lord hissed out the word 'friends' and Harry giggled.

Looking into those eyes, he realized his favorite color was crimson. Yes, it was very pretty. "They aren't my friends." He couldn't help as a sad note came through.

The Dark Lord smiled and moved his hands to clutch at his waist. "You never need friends to succeed in life, young Harrison. Here, you may sit with me." The man picked him up and settled him down on his lap.

Harry was startled and stiff, only moving when the Dark Lord urged him to relax. Blinking over at his parents, he wondered at their approval. From their expressions, Harry couldn't distinguish what they may be feeling.

"Surely you don't have a problem with this, Lucius?"

His father dipped his head, startled. "No, My Lord."

The Dark Lord's arms cradled him against his chest and Harry eventually began to relax on his own means. The adults began talking about grown-up things and Harry was eventually lulled to sleep. The last thing he heard before falling asleep was the name 'Longbottom'.

The Dark Lord walked over the dead body of a man, his wand in hand as he climbed up the staircase. Harry followed the lilac-man at his heels, frowning. He had these dreams occasionally. They always turned out to be true. Like one time, he had a dream that his mother would get him a new set of robes and he woke up with uncomfortably stiff robes on his bed the next day. But he had never had a dream about his lilac man.

Harry flinched as the Dark Lord blasted a door down, sending splinters every-which direction. A woman was clutching a pudgy child around Harry's age to her chest, crying. She set the child down on his bed before standing in front of him defensively. "Please," she begged hoarsely. "Not Neville."

"Stand aside, Longbottom."

Harry's eyes widened. He remembered the adults talking about going to the Longbottom's house. Was this them? He looked at the boy, smiling and waving at him, but he didn't seem to be able see Harry. Harry frowned, flinching when the conversation took a dark turn.

"Please, kill me instead—"

"Stand aside, woman."

"Spare Neville—"

"Avada Kedavra." Harry watched a green light hit the woman, causing her to fall heavily to the floor. His bottom lip trembled as she didn't move. Was she ok? Was she sleeping? It wasn't until Harry watched the Dark Lord advance on Neville when he understood that the other boy was going to end up like his mum.

"Please, My Lord, don't do this!" he pleaded. But lilac-man didn't hear him.

"You're the one?" Voldemort sneered down at the crying child. "Rather pathetic." the man pointed his wand at the babe."Avada Kedavra."Harry screamed, watching as the light struck the boy in the forehead. But unlike his mum, the boy didn't fall down motionless. The green light bounced back in the direction of the Dark Lord. Harry tumbled on his arse, watching as the lilac-man disappeared when he was struck, seemingly being blown up. Looking back at the boy, he saw Neville still alive, crying.

"Harrison!" Harry jerked awake, gasping for air. "Get off the Dark Lord, boy," Lucius growled, grabbing Harry around the waist and pulling him off the lilac-man.

Harry whirled around as soon as he was put back on the floor, watching as the Dark Lord stood up. Jerking out of his father's hold, Harry tugged at the Dark Lord's robes. "Don't go to Longbottom's house." The Dark Lord's eyes narrowed, but only slightly. "Please, don't go. You'll get blown up."

Crimson eyes stared down at Harry. And then the man chuckled, causing the rest of the adults to chuckle warily. "Very amusing child you have, Lucius. Alas, I must get going."

Harry stood shell-shocked, watching as the man began to leave. Lilac-man didn't believe him… Before the Dark Lord left, his eyes studied Harry once more. Nonverbally, Harry tried to plead with him not to go, but Voldemort turned his shoulder on Harry and left.

Late that night, the world would celebrate the death of the powerful Lord Voldemort and hail the boy-who-lived, Neville Longbottom.

-SSC-

Draco got a handshake from their father and Harry got a distant stare and a nod as a farewell. Shrugging off the stare, Harry dragged his trunk to the Hogwarts Express. Even if his parents treated him coldly, his father especially, they always provided him with top-of-the-line resources. A Malfoy deserved nothing less.

This would be his first year of Hogwarts. He was rather excited to learn all about the Wizarding World. Lucius had always taught Draco private lessons but never showed an interest in teaching Harry anything more than expected.

"Please," Draco whispered to him. "Sit somewhere faraway. I don't want to be seen with you." He bumped shoulders with Harry and abandoned him in the middle of the train. It wasn't as if Harry wanted to go with Draco to meet up with his brute friends. They were all stuck up and seemed to have a permanent chip on their shoulder anyway.

Biting his lip, in an un-Malfoy gesture, Harry entered a compartment. A girl with bushy hair and a boy with chocolate-brown hair sat together, exchanging polite words to one another. "Do you mind if I sit here?" Harry asked eloquently. The girl turned to look at him and turned pink.

"S-sure," she stuttered and immediately seemed to be angry with herself for doing so. "Neville and I were just introducing each other." She paused as Harry sat down on the seat before moving a rather large toad aside. "I'm Hermione Granger and this is Neville Longbottom."

Harry froze, staring off into space. Granger. That was a Mudblood name. For as long as Harry could remember, he had tried to gain his father's favor. An unspoken vow seemed to be agreed upon between Harry and his parents. They treated him like any other pure-blooded child and provided him with anything he wanted or desired. But Draco seemed to have a special bond with his mother and father, one that Harry didn't share. Harry had looked upon those bonds with envy. He wanted his parents to be proud of him too.

There was something different from Draco and himself. For some reason, his father preferred Draco far more than he preferred Harry. Was it because of Draco's blond hair and grey eyes? Or was it something entirely different? He had a hunch it was the latter, Lucius wouldn't be so prude to let appearances cloud his judgment. Was Draco more powerful than him?

Looking at Granger and the boy-who-lived, he had an idea. What if he befriended the boy-who-lived and a few members of the Light?

That would sure gain his father's respect and notice. Right?

"I'm Harrison Malfoy, but you can call me Harry." He shook her hand and turned to the sour-looking Longbottom.

"A-a Malfoy?" The boy looked at him up and down, a nervous flutter in his eyes. "You don't look a thing like a Malfoy." Despite his words, he reached across and shook Harry's hand. "It's nice to meet you."

Harry sat back and studied Longbottom. The boy seemed nervous and not confident in the least. Opposite of what Harry thought he would be. He knew the boy lived with his grandmother ever since his parents died in the attack.

They sat back and enjoyed the rest of the ride to Hogwarts. A few kids entered, staring in awe at Longbottom. The boy always seemed to hunch his shoulders and look away. It was odd for Harry to interact with children his own age. He couldn't remember the last time he enjoyed someone else's presence. He tried to tell himself that he wasn't having a lotof fun. After all, this was supposed to be an act…

-SSC-

"Malfoy, Draco." Harry watched as his brother slammed his shoulder with his own as he made his way up to the stool. The boy's grey eyes glared at Harry before the hat dropped and covered his head. It was on for all but a second before it made its decision.

"SLYTHERIN!"

Harry huffed. All of Draco's friends went in Slytherin also. He felt a pang of something heavy in his chest. Every Malfoy went in Slytherin but did he reallywant to end up in the same room for the next seven years? They would make life hell for him, he knew. Earlier in the Sorting, Hermione and Neville had both gone to Gryffindor, giving him last minute waves.

"Malfoy, Harrison." Whispers spread through the hall, almost as bad as Neville's turn. He heard a few comments about how small he was and his hair wasn't the usual white-blond of a Malfoy. It didn't matter. The hat sat past his eyes, blocking out the curious lookers.

"Ah, another Malfoy I see. Well better beS—"

"No please, not Slytherin." Harry whispered, pleadingly. "Gryffindor, please."

The hat paused for a long moment. "Child, you would do well only in Slytherin. That is your character. Nothing you can do, even ask nicely, will make me change my decision.SLYTHERIN!"

Harry deflated, a sneer deepening his lips. Frustrated tears sprang to his eyes and he stomped over toward the table applauding politely. Silver and emerald appeared on the trimming of his robes and a serpent badge placed itself on his chest. The older students looked proud to have another Malfoy but the First Years were sniggering, narrowing their eyes at him. They were brainwashed long ago by Draco to hate him without a valid reason for doing so.

Harry sat at the end of the table, facing forward, tunnel vision. Unseeingly, he watched the rest of the sorting. A black boy joined him at the end but Harry paid him no heed. He was too distracted in watching Headmaster Dumbledore stand up.

Perking up slightly, he could smell the man's magic. Never before had he smelt such powerful magic on anyone besides his lilac-man, Voldemort. Harry closed his eyes, not listening to Dumbledore's speech. To this day, he still remembered Voldemort taking him on his lap and making him feel as if he belonged.His parents never felt the need to shower him with attention like Voldemort had that one day. Narcissa, if anyone, gave him the most affection, but it was still lacking.

The only one who actually saw him was dead. But he would return. As much as Harry would like to believe that Voldemort would return as the same man, he knew that probably wouldn't be the case. Voldemort would most likely be cooler and harsher. Sitting in his servants' living rooms with children on his lap probably wouldn't be on his list of things to do.

But Dumbledore… the Headmaster smelt like spring rain. His father complained about Dumbledore, but at the moment, Harry saw no flaws in the old man. He was past his prime, but it certainly didn't smell like it. Through interested eyes, he watched Dumbledore wave his hands and food magically appeared.

Ignoring his loud-mouth brother to his right, he spotted Neville whispering to Hermione and glancing in his direction. He couldn't distinguish what they were feeling, but he had a hunch it wasn't anything positive now that he was in Slytherin.

"I'm Blaise Zabini." The black boy sitting across from Harry held out an offered hand. "I've heard a lot about you, Harrison." Becoming intrigued, Harry shook the boy's hand.

"You can call me Harry." He wanted to ask how Blaise heard so much about him, considering Lucius never talked about him with other people. Though, Harry knew all about Blaise and his mother. He smirked.

Perhaps things wouldn't turn out all too bad in Slytherin.

-SSC-

Nodding along with Minerva, Albus watched the young Malfoy. He was rather startled learning of another Malfoy. He'd heard plenty about Draco from Severus but the Potions Master never mentioned Harrison before. If he had, Albus hadn't remembered. It was rather surprising to see a Malfoy with black hair and green eyes. For centuries, the Malfoy's were known for their distinctive appearance.

The boy's eyes though, reminded Albus of the late Lily Potter. She had been a valuable witch who had been killed in battle with her husband before they had the chance to conceive a child together.

But Harrison's appearance was not the only thing that caught Dumbledore's attention. The boy moved with grace unheard of in a child so young. It also sparked his curiosity that he had heard young Harrison mouth the words 'not Slytherin'.

And the fact he reeked of lilacs…

Lilacs, the same scent as Voldemort. Smelling the power of other witches and wizards was a trait among only powerful wizards. Some average and lesser wizards did not even have a scent. Neville Longbottom had no scent and most of the children at Hogwarts hadn't established one as of yet. But this young child did and it was the same scent as the Dark Lord's.

Albus frowned thoughtfully. He had read of this occurrence in passing before, but for the life of him, he couldn't remember what it meant.

Fascinating.

Harrison Malfoy was a pupil to watch over.

But for now…those lemon pastries looked inviting.