Hello all!
Wow, this is like my first official fanfic...it's kind of weird and echoey here. **looks around** Well I'm not entirely sure how this will go , but I have to say it was fun writing this first chappy and I hope you enjoy reading. Leave comments and reviews please!
A/N: I technically have to note that I don't own le' lovely Harry Potter series. These character's belong to J.K. Rowling * bows in reverence * and I am merely a serving wench playing with them.
Chapter 1: relief in a little fluffy package
I stopped and had a sudden crushing realization. Caving in like the wooden roof of a age old stone mansion, I was losing the small internal battle. Soon, I
thought, I would ring hollow and cold as the walls of the malfoy manor.
For so long had I been fighting back the demons, that I had forgotten the people in my life that mattered. In her own small way, the smallest daughter of the
butler and I had been friends in our early years.
She had taught me the joys of playing in the dirt and mud when my station had deemed it unnecessary for my tutelage.
Our moving friendship was more so in the eyes of a passerby a sullen withdrawn boy torturing the sweetness of a small girl meant to tend to him.
But as I have found it, those days still warm me and gave me what little humanity I possess.
If humanity is not essential to the members of my family, I have at least had the advantage of some sort of living.
There ended our friendship however, as I understand it, she is now the property of some brusque quiet man on the order of twice her years in age.
When my years determined that I needed not the distraction of a similar-in-age playmate she of course disappeared in the frighteningly discreet manner in
which my father can manage such affairs.
I say as much because the second of the three people to have cared for me to fall by the wayside like chaff was my own mother. By the hands of the man I call
father I lost her soul.
Shaken from his reverie by the heavy thud of the great oak door leading to the wing of the manor reserved for his personal use, Draco stiffened his back in
anticipation of the one person who would so willfully and indiscreetly enter his quarters.
Standing up from the cool marble bench of his outdoor terrace, the blue-eyed adolescent searched out the figure of his father in the dark high arch of the
interior of his room.
He stood with the sun shining on his nearly snow white hair, poised with his hand near the wand hidden in his robes and his chin high and arrogant.
Draco studied the doorway, mentally chastising himself for the fear and anger that reverberated from the tension of his muscles.
Eyes squinted so that even the bright morning sun could not reflect off of the clear blue, Malfoy watched as the swish of Lucius' black cloth passed into the
light of the archway.
While he had lost some of the vision in his left eye from an incident with a giant recruiting for the Dark Lord, Lucius had to control the bile that rose in
his throat when his mental acuity honed in on the fear in his progeny. Recovering from the disgust quickly, Lucius brought Draco's attention to a small
figure to the left, wishing to compartmentalize and forget the slight to his honor until later.
Distracted by the movement of his father's hand as it flew in the direction of a dark hovering shadow, Draco realized at the introduction of a guest able to
travel the distance from the great hall to Draco's alcove, he was not likely to be attacked directly.
Lucius, confident his son had finally come to the conclusion the guest was of some import, addressed Draco.
"Draco, come indoors so I may introduce you to the future mistress of Malfoy manor."
Lucius divulged a great deal of satisfaction from the sick expression that Draco could not mask even after several failed attempts.
Stepping into the room with no small difficulty with coordinating his body with a mind fulls of questions and swirling emotion, Draco noticed the face of his
father's new charge and was unsure of whether he should give in to the urge of his body to buckle and fold.
Her face healthy and tan, lips full with the blush of youth, eyebrows dark lines as if draw in by the hand of a painter, and bright honey brown eyes popping
out of the intelligent and proper face, Malfoy could not believe his sight.
Standing before him was the brown bush of a girl he had tortured in school, facing him with an expression void of recognition.
Queasy with the knowledge of the enchantments likely involved and the lives massacred, Draco closed his eyes and managed a wavering hello mistress to
accompany his customary kiss of her hand.
Lucius drew his son's attention once more, clearing his throat, and giving Draco, a casual glance that's thinly veiled threat froze the thoughts working in
Draco's mind.
This was not the right moment to find out all Draco concluded; expecting a painful debriefing from his father in the room reserved for his instruction and
torture; Hidden behind walls thick enough to mute Draco's screams of agony.