Summary: SLASH LV/HP Lucius has twin boys. Voldemort is asking for his servants firstborn child. Thinking it’s an honor; Lucius gives Voldemort the healthy child, Draco, who happens to be the younger twin. Harry grows up the black sheep of the Malfoy family and befriends mudbloods and the boy-who-lived, Neville. Eventually, he ends up being disowned from the Malfoy family. Things spiral out of control when Voldemort finds out Harry is the first born. He’ll stop at nothing to get Harry on his side. The ritual Voldemort wants to use will not work without Harry. For the Dark Lord wants to eat off the children’s magic once they are of age.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Sleeping Somewhere Cold
Chapter One: Without A Soul

Eerie shadows danced across the room as Narcissa Malfoy screamed. Her porcelain skin showed a layer of shimmering sweat beaded across her pores. Lungs burning, she screamed once again. “One more push, My Lady.” The Healer looked uncertainly up at the shuddering woman. Lucius Malfoy was pacing back and forth, keeping his mercury eyes on the scene. His eyes were locked on his wife, surveying and studying her health.

Outside, he knew his Lord stood. The Dark Lord stood, waiting to mark their firstborn child. It was an honor. Lucius was proud to have such a strong wizard take an interest on his son. Unfortunately, he wasn’t the first Death Eater to have his son marked. Goyle, Crabbe, and Nott already had their sons marked as did Parkinson's daughter. Their son was the youngest out of the lot, but he was proud to be a father so soon.

“Come now, Cissy.” Lucius was anxious, but his pacing would most definitely make Narcissa uptight. “You can do it, my sweet.” His jewel clad hand brushed back her white hair, smiling at her, trying to give her comfort. What else could he possibly do?

“A boy, My Lady.” Lucius turned his head around. He hadn’t heard any cries.

Mercury eyes watched as the Healer stood up, cradling a bloody newborn. Lucius’ smile froze and faltered. The baby had midnight black hair and it was incredibly small. “Is…” he paused, throwing Narcissa a cautious look. “Is he alive?” Narcissa gave a sob at the query. But her face contorted in pain again, giving a breathless scream.

"Yes, he's very healthy." The man paused, eyes wide as he looked at Narcissa. “There is another child.” The Healer passed the silent babe over to his assistant, who in return, cleaned the child. Lucius gave a swallow, his lips turning downward.

“Another?” he mouthed incredulous to the Healer, who had taken position near Narcissa’s open legs. Twins were unheard of in the dark pureblood world. It was pathetically common. 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’s screams joined in harmony. Lucius squeezed her hand, watching as she 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 possessed blonde 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, noticing the differences. “He’s defiantly a Black,” Narcissa tried to lighten the atmosphere, motioning toward the firstborn. The small baby opened its eyes, showing shocking green eyes.

“Narcissa,” Lucius sneered, coming to a shocking conclusion. She couldn't have possible...

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 baby. “His name should be Harrison Regulus Malfoy.”

“But I thought we agreed on-,”

“This one here can be Draco Lucius Malfoy.” The blonde baby cried, his wet mercury eyes staring up at his father. Lucius reached down to run his finger down the screaming child’s face.

Before Lucius could turn, 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. “Lucius? Are you ready? Which is the firstborn?” Voldemort’s voice was a soft hiss, caressing every occupant in the room into an uncomfortable calm.

Lucius hesitated for a long moment. It was an honor. Did it really matter if one was seconds older? He wanted his Lord to have the healthy baby, he couldn’t give the Dark Lord a fragile wizard. “My Lord,” Lucius started, picking up Draco. Narcissa’s eyes widened in slight bemusement but she didn’t dare speak out. She knew he was to give the Dark Lord the first child. But she was smart enough not to cause attention. “May I present you, Draco Lucius Malfoy. My firstborn heir and your loyal follower.”

He cradled the blonde baby to his chest; turning to the Dark Lord. The man appeared young in appearance and incredibly handsome. But Lucius wasn't a fool. Lord Voldemort was the most powerful and intoxicating wizard he had ever had the pleasure of meeting, but also the most dangerous.

The Dark Lord gave a sinister smile as he held out his hands for Draco. “Precious,” crimson eyes danced around Lucius’ shoulder at the other child. “Twins, Lucius?” Thick white teeth flashed humoressly.

Lucius remained quiet, knowing when to speak and when to remain silent. He watched as Draco quieted down, probably due to the man's magic. The Dark Lord unrolled the blanket slightly, revealing Draco’s pink ankle. Placing a long, pale finger on Draco’s skin, the Dark Lord murmured quietly, successfully branding Draco’s skin with a serpent. It was small and barely noticeable, but beautiful in its own right.

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

His red eyes drilled into Lucius’ gleeful ones.

Lucius bowed his head. “Thank you, My Lord.”

--SSC--

Harrison sighed, shutting his book. “Hurry up, Harrison.” Draco slammed his fists against his door. “The Dark Lord will be here shortly.” The six year old growled low in his throat and stood up. The robes his mother had him 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 be out of place, yet again.

He left his room, watching as Draco hurried in front of him. Theodore Nott, Gregory Goyle, Vincent Crabbe, and Pansy Parkinson were here with their parents. Whenever they gathered together, the children always left him out of their games. They laughed at him and teased him for being different. His eyes were bright green, his hair was black, and he was small for his age…a complete opposite of any Malfoy.

His presence was required out of respect of the Dark Lord. Harry didn’t exactly know what it meant to be the Dark Lord but the man always fascinated him. His goal was always to say ‘hi’ to the Dark Lord and then slither off to his rooms like he always did.

His father gave him a disproving glare as he stumbled off the bottom stair and almost fell on his arse. The Dark Lord was already here, his robes deep black and silver. The man always smelt good to Harry. A deep 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.

Harry stepped in line with the rest of the children, Draco elbowing him in the stomach, and bowed his head for the Dark Lord. “Hello My Lord.” He chorused in unison with the rest of the children.

“Hello children,” Harry shivered. His voice always sounded so... pleasing.

Without approval, his eyes peeked up at the Dark Lord. Crimson eyes locked with his own and Harry hurriedly looked back down with a blush, swearing the man gave him a wink.

He listened as the adults swept past them, entering the sitting room. Automatically, the children all ran toward the sitting room’s far corner, circling around each other, whispering. They all sent him a glare and continued on giggling and laughing with one another.

Harry shrugged and turned his heel to escape them. His fantasy book upstairs had such vibrant colored pictures. “Harrison,” his name was called. He knew that voice and froze on the first step. The Dark Lord never spoke to him. Why now? “Come sit with us.” Bright green eyes met crimson. The Dark Lord had a small smile upon his face as the parents looked at him intensely.

“Come on,” The Dark Lord reassured, sounding slightly impatient.

“Harrison,” Lucius warned darkly when he noticed his son not crawling over to their Lord.

“Hush Lucius,” the red eyed man threatened his father softly.

Harry took a deep breath and slowly made his way over, his head down. He stopped near the silver and black robes, awaiting his orders. Long and thin fingers placed themselves on his shoulders. One of the index fingers crawled 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. “They aren’t my friends.” He couldn’t help a sad note come through.

The Dark Lord smiled and moved his hands to clutch at his waist. “Well then, you don’t need friends. You may sit with me.” The man picked him up and allowed him to sit on his lap. Harry was startled and stiff. Looking over to his parents, he wondered at their approval. From their expressions, Harry couldn't distinguish what they were feeling. “Do you have a problem with this, Lucius?”

His father dipped down his head, startled. “No, My Lord.”

The Dark Lord’s arms cradled him against his chest and Harry eventually relaxed. The adults started talking about grown up things and Harry 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. The stairs seemed to beckon him as he climbed up, grinning. Harry followed the lilac man at his heels, frowning. He had these dreams occasionally. They always turned out true. Like one time, he had a dream that his mother would get him a new set of robes and it turned true 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 direction. A woman was clutching a pudgy child around his age to her chest, crying. Her blue eyes glanced up and set the child down on the bed, standing in front of him.

“Please, 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 at him, but he didn’t see Harry.

“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. It wasn’t until Harry watched the Dark Lord advance on Neville that he knew what he was doing.

“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 and bounce back to the Dark Lord. Harry tumbled on his arse, watching as the lilac man disappeared, seemingly 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,” Lucius growled, grabbing Harry around the waist and pulling him off the lilac man. Harry whirled around, watching as the Dark Lord stood up.

Jerking out of his father’s hold, Harry tugged at the man’s robes. “Don’t go to Longbottom’s house.” The Dark Lord’s eyes widened, but only slightly. “Please, don’t go. You’ll get blown up.”

Crimson eyes stared down at Harry. And then chuckled, causing the rest of the adults to chuckle warily. “Very amusing child, Lucius. Alas, I must get going.” Harry stood shell shocked, watching the man leave. Lilac man didn’t believe him…

Before the Dark Lord left, his eyes studied Harry once more.

With his eyes, Harry tried to plead with him not to go, but Voldemort turned to leave.

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 cold stare and 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 material. Nothing less for a Malfoy. Rather pathetic if Harry thought so.

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 far away. I wouldn’t want to be seen with the likes of you.” He bumped shoulders with Harry and left 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. He was afraid their heads would snap off from being tipped far back all the time.

Biting his lip, in an unMalfoy gesture, Harry entered a compartment. A girl with bushy hair and a boy with chocolate brown hair sat together, murmuring 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 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, moving a rather large toad. “I’m Hermione Granger and this is Neville Longbottom.”

Harry froze, staring off into space. Granger. That was a mudblood name.

Lucius…

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 pureblood child. Draco had a special bond with his mother and father, one that Harry didn’t share. But Harry looked upon their bond in envy. He wanted his parents to be proud of him.

Something was different from he and Draco. For some reason, his father liked Draco far more. Was it because of Draco’s blonde hair and grey eyes? Or was it something entirely different? He had a hunch it was the latter. 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 side?

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 lot of 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 locked with his in a glare as the hat dropped on his head.

“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 really want to end up in the same room for the next seven years? They would make life hell for him. Hermione and Neville both went to Gryffindor, giving him last minute waves. He could see in Neville’s eyes that he knew Harry would go to Slytherin.

“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 how black his hair was. It didn’t matter. The hat sat past his eyes, blocking out curious lookers.

“Ah, another Malfoy I see. Well better be S-,”

“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.

Harry sat down 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 watched the almighty 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 shut 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.

The only one who actually saw him was dead.

But he would return. As much as Harry would like to believe Voldemort returning as the same man, he knew that probably wouldn’t be the case. Voldemort would be harsher and colder.

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. 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 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.

“I’m Blaise Zabini by the way.” The black boy across from his shot out a 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. He knew all about Blaise and his mother though. 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 he never mentioned a Harrison. It was rather surprising seeing a Malfoy with black hair and startling green eyes. Sadly, he remembered Lily Potter’s eyes. She and her husband were killed in battle before they could conceive a child together.

But Harrison’s appearance was not the only thing that caught Dumbledore’s attention. The boy moved with such grace unheard of in a child so young. It wouldn’t be complete if he hadn’t seen young Harrison mouth the words ‘not Slytherin’ and the fact he reeked of lilacs.

Lilacs, the same scent as Voldemort. Only powerful witches and wizards could smell another’s power. Some average and lesser wizards did not even have a scent. Neville Longbottom had no scent and most of the children at Hogwarts didn’t even have one. But this young child did…and it was the same scent as the Dark Lord’s. Why is that? It nagged the back of his mind. He had heard of this issue before, but for the life of him, he couldn’t remember what it meant.

The Slytherins moved away from Harrison, including his brother, Draco.

Fascinating.

Harrison Malfoy was indefinitely a pupil to watch over.

But for now…those lemon pastries looked inviting.