The Precious Few
Chapter One- Beginnings
We were strangers, starting out on a journey Never dreaming what we'd have to go through, Now here we are, and I'm suddenly standing At the beginning with you ~ 'At the Beginning'
No one believes in 'happily ever after' anymore. The world has become so cynical that the phrase has just slowly faded out of existence. And just look at the reasons, they more than justify our cynicism. One in three marriages in Britain are doomed to divorce, more in the United States. The Marital Relationships Council (the one who is supposed to be protecting marriage) predicts that in thirty years, most people won't even bother to get married. Now there's optimism for you. The Missing Persons' List increases by thousands every year. Fields and forests are rapidly disappearing to make way for new housing developments with cushy names such as 'Bramley Green'. At this very moment Palestinians and Israelites are blowing each other up and desecrating sacred monuments in an argument that has lasted for millennia, and there seems to be no sign of a cease-fire in the immediate future. India and Pakistan are fighting over a piece of land that is of no apparent immense value. The USA and Russia have just signed a deal to get rid of two-thirds of their nuclear weapons. Now they only have enough nuclear power to destroy each other ten times over. Great. September 11th, 2001- need I say anymore?
So with all of these things happening in the world around us, it's little surprise that we don't believe in 'happily ever after' anymore. After all, what proof is there that it truly exists? We have no reason to hope, given civilisation's failings. But just because you don't believe in something, doesn't mean that it doesn't exist. You have to have faith. And, strange though it may seem, some people really do live happily ever after. This story is about some of those precious few.
That was it. He was bored. He was deeply and profoundly bored. He was out of his mind with pure, unadulterated boredom, abburidemento, langeweile, and total utter ennui. If he spent anymore time here his father would be packing him off to the family suite at St Mungo's. He had to get out.
Draco Malfoy lay on top of his four-poster bed with his arms behind his head and stared at the stone ceiling above him, contemplating the design painted on it- the Malfoy family crest, with snakes surrounding the motto: The End Justifies The Means. He grimaced and sat up, decided. He sat down at his desk to write a letter to his father. Father- I've gone to France - Draco. He sat back and looked at it. Short and... Well, short anyway. After directing a terrified house-elf to pack a trunk and sent it on after him, he threw Floo powder into his fireplace and, as the flames turned green, stepped into it saying -Le Chateau Fichu.
~ Hermione Granger leant on the balcony of her room in the rented villa in southern France, ands breathed in the scent of the night air, faintly tinged with wood smoke and jasmine.
Every year she and her parents holidayed in France, and every year they always rented the same villa. This year, the summer before her seventh and last year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, was no different in that aspect. Here she was. However there was one difference, and a very important one at that- she was alone. Earlier that day her mother had received a phone call. A very old cousin had died and left the entirety of his estate to her. Never ones for putting things off, Anne and Michael Granger had flown home immediately to sort out the details, but Hermione had begged to stay. Her parents, ever trusting of their only child, had agreed. So here she was, hours later.
She had owled Ron and Harry to come over and stay, but Ron was in Romania visiting his brother Charlie, and Harry was under virtual house arrest at the Dursleys, an order enforced by Dumbledore and the Order of the Phoenix for Harry's own safety. Ginny was with Ron in Romania, and Hermione didn't thank that she could stand two weeks with no one but Lavender and Parvati for company. Still she was happy, if a little lonely. Before she had come to Hogwarts, Hermione had gotten used to her own company, as all only children have to, especially with working parents. It was one of the reasons that she had become so interested in reading. The books were her friends, and kept her company. But then she had met Rona n Harry and she had realised that sometimes she had to rely on others for her happiness. Hence the tinge of loneliness.
Absently she plaited her hair into a loose braid, smiling as she remembered the day when Lavender has kidnapped her for a 'makeover'. Hermione had come out of the experience alive, with wavy hair as the only permanent effect. The charm would last her for as long as she wanted. And in sixth year, tired of backaches from carrying too many heavy books, she had put a featherweight charm on all of her bags. It was one of the best ideas that she had ever had. Hermione would never be a beauty, but (now that she had tamed her hair, and she wasn't' hunched over) there was something about her that made people look twice at her. Maybe some hidden depth in her eyes. She was...attractive. And now she was hungry. With a sigh, she walked back into her cool room and shut the whitewashed wooden shutters. She walked down the wooden staircase and into he kitchen. She opened the fridge to find it empty. She groaned as she noticed a note in her mother's handwriting. Obviously there had been no time to go shopping before her parents left. She walked back up to her room to grab a pair of sandals and her purse, and then walked out of the house for the short walk to the nearby market.
~ Draco stepped out of the fireplace, immaculate as always, into a large drawing room. The walls were white stone, with green curtains framing the floor to ceiling windows, and green rugs scattered artistically across the flagstone floor.
Curled up in one of the room's chaise-lounges was a slight girl around nineteen years old, with silvery blonde hair, and pale green eyes the colour of peridot. She looked up from her book at Draco's entrance, and rose gracefully to meet him, smiling. She walked towards him and, holding onto both his hands, kissed him on both cheeks. "Draco, what brings you here?" she asked in fluent English, albeit with a strong French accent. "Boredom, Luci," he replied, kissing her back.
"Mais pourquoi?" Luci asked, slipping back into her native French.
He shrugged one shoulder elegantly. "Je ne sais pas. But I missed you," he replied in the same language, for French came as easily to him as English did to Luci.
"Still, you're here and that's all that matters," Luci said, sitting back down in her chair. Draco sat opposite her in an armchair, crossing his long legs.
"Where are Uncle Cassius and Aunt Hélène?" he asked.
"Paris," Luci sniffed. "Leaving me here with no one but the house-elves. How long are you staying?" she asked, brightening as she changed the subject.
Draco left it, knowing full well how inattentive his aunt and uncle were to their only child. "Until the end of the summer, unless Father calls me back," he replied.
"Fantastique." She glanced at the delicate silver watch on her wrist. "You will come out with me to the town? I am meeting some friends in half an hour,"
"Sure. I have nothing else to do," he replied.
"I will meet you downstairs in twenty minutes. I need to get changed," and with that she disappeared up the grand staircase.
Draco followed more slowly and went into the room in which he always stayed when he visited the chateau. His trunks had already been sent and unpacked, so he changed into a pair of black trousers and a shirt the same gray as his eyes. Contrary to popular opinion and his father's wishes, Draco Malfoy always wore Muggle clothes during the holidays. They were more practical. ' The only useful thing Muggles ever came up with was Armani', he thought contemptuously. Slipping a leather jacket over his shirt, Draco walked downstairs to wait for Luci. He looked up as she walked downstairs a few minutes later, and raised an eyebrow in approval. Luci was wearing a black suede miniskirt and a low cut green top with capped sleeves. Her feet and lower legs were encased in black boots.
"One thing you have to say for Muggles," Luci said, unconsciously echoing his earlier thoughts, "they know how to dress."
"But not a lot else," he replied. "Shall we?" he asked, holding out his arm.
"Oui. Let's go," she replied, taking it and they walked out into the evening.
~ Hermione walked around the small epicerie, the air conditioning raising goosebumps on her arms. She bought fruit, vegetables, eggs, milk, flour, cold ham and a rotisserie chicken.
Years of French lessons before Hogwarts, coupled with many holidays in France had enabled Hermione with the skill to be able to survive in France. While she would never be fluent as a native, it was sufficient for her needs. She thanked the woman at the till, and walked out clutching her two paper bags.
The town was quite busy for this time of day, and the streets were full of students and young people headed for the brightly lit cafes, hidden way restaurants.
Hermione sighed, walking back to the lonely villa while others her age were out with their friends, determined to have a good time. Her gaze landed on a couple, both with pale blond hair, the girl's in a bob, the guy's falling over his eyes. They were chatting easily in French. Hermione lowered her eyes and walked past. Suddenly someone bumped into her and her shopping went flying. She bent down to retrieve the items that had fallen out and the person knelt down to help her. It was the blond boy from earlier.
"Excuse moi, mademoiselle," the boy spoke in rapid French. "I did not see you. Are you alright?" "I'm okay," Hermione replied. She stood up and brushed down her royal blue sundress. He handed her bags back to her.
A female voice called out "Draco?" and Hermione looked up, startled, and met his gray eyes with her own brown ones. Recognition flashed across his face. "Oh it's you. What are you doing here, Granger?"
"None of your business," Hermione replied tightly. "And what happened to Mudblood?" she swung away and her plait slapped him in the face as she stalked away, leaving Draco to stare after her.
"Who was that?" Luci asked with interest, slipping her arm through his.
"Someone from school," Draco answered, almost absently . "Oh how interesting,"
"No!" he replied with so much force that Luci looked at him in surprise. He shook his head to clear it. "She's no one important. Let's go,"
~ Hermione walked back home quickly and entered the house, slamming the oak door behind her. She unpacked her shopping, slamming cupboards and, throwing an apron on over her dress, set the stove going. She cut the ham viciously and put spaghetti on to boil, all the while muttering obscenities at Malfoy that would have left her parents breathless.
"Talk about ruining my holiday mood!" she exclaimed, taking deep breaths to calm herself down. "Insufferable prick," she added.
Twenty minutes later her meal was ready. She walked out onto the patio, food in one hand, and a glass of red wine in the other. She sat down at the table, considered, then went back inside to pick up the book she was reading- Jane Austen's Sense and Sensibility. Bundling her hair, which had come undone, into a messy bun, she sat down to eat with one hand, holding the book in her other, and occasionally taking sips from her wineglass. Within moments she had calmed down, absorbed in her book, lost between the world of Elinor and Marianne Dashwood and the serenity of the French evening.
~ Hours later, Draco sat at the table outside a brightly lit cafe, one hand under his chin, looking aloof as he sat staring into space, his Budwizard beer untouched.
"Draco?" Luci nudged him.
He blinked. "Yes?"
"You have not heard a word of what Françoise was saying," she scolded. "You are thinking of that girl?" "Hardly," he scoffed, lying. "She's a Mudblood,"
"So?" Luci asked.
Draco stared at his cousin. Luci had always been radical but...
"Not everyone is like your father," Luci reminded him. That much was true. Luci's father was Narcissa's brother and worked for the United Wizarding Nations. And even Draco knew that before his mother had met his father, she had been deeply in love with a Muggle-born Wizard, by the name of Philippe Pascal, great-grandson of the Muggle inventor Louis Pascal. But over the years of marriage to Lucius, Narcissa had transformed into the cold, haughty woman she was now. Still Luci's reply surprised her English cousin.
"What is this girl's name?" Luci asked.
"Granger,"
"No! Her first name!" Luci said, her laughter pealing out.
"Oh. Hermione," he answered shortly.
"I have heard of her," one of Luci's friends, Jean-Pierre, mentioned. "She is the famous Harry Potter's best friend, no?"
Draco nodded grudgingly.
"Well she seemed nice enough," Luci said. "I might even get to know her," she added mischievously, with a twinkling glance to Draco.
Draco suppressed a groan with difficulty. This sounded like another of Luci's 'Plans' and he knew how they turned out- with him doing something that he didn't want to do.
Then they heard a ringing and Françoise picked up a small contraption from her bag, put it to her ear and spoke into it.
"'Allo?"... Mais papa.... oui, au revoir," she put the box back in her bag and looked at the others. "I have to go home," she said.
Jean-Pierre nodded. "I will go with you," they got up.
"Au revoir Luci. It was nice to see you again Draco. A bientot," Françoise said. She kissed Luci's cheeks. "I will speak to you soon, Luci." And they walked off.
Draco looked at Luci. "What was that box she spoke into?"
"A Vocalis. They are a little bit like Muggle telephones, but they work at all times and not on electricity. They've been charmed. We all have them. Much less conspicuous than owls, especially when you live in a Muggle town.
What?" she asked, as Draco looked at her in mild astonishment.
"You're always full of surprises," he said as he paid the bill.
"I try. Let's go home. It is almost one in the morning,"
Draco assented and they walked back to Chateau Fichu. Luci's mother had named the house as a joke because it was supposed to be cursed. They had performed cleansing spells on it, and so far had never seen a demon or even a poltergeist. However, the name stuck. Chateau Fichu- Castle Damned.
We were strangers, starting out on a journey Never dreaming what we'd have to go through, Now here we are, and I'm suddenly standing At the beginning with you ~ 'At the Beginning'
No one believes in 'happily ever after' anymore. The world has become so cynical that the phrase has just slowly faded out of existence. And just look at the reasons, they more than justify our cynicism. One in three marriages in Britain are doomed to divorce, more in the United States. The Marital Relationships Council (the one who is supposed to be protecting marriage) predicts that in thirty years, most people won't even bother to get married. Now there's optimism for you. The Missing Persons' List increases by thousands every year. Fields and forests are rapidly disappearing to make way for new housing developments with cushy names such as 'Bramley Green'. At this very moment Palestinians and Israelites are blowing each other up and desecrating sacred monuments in an argument that has lasted for millennia, and there seems to be no sign of a cease-fire in the immediate future. India and Pakistan are fighting over a piece of land that is of no apparent immense value. The USA and Russia have just signed a deal to get rid of two-thirds of their nuclear weapons. Now they only have enough nuclear power to destroy each other ten times over. Great. September 11th, 2001- need I say anymore?
So with all of these things happening in the world around us, it's little surprise that we don't believe in 'happily ever after' anymore. After all, what proof is there that it truly exists? We have no reason to hope, given civilisation's failings. But just because you don't believe in something, doesn't mean that it doesn't exist. You have to have faith. And, strange though it may seem, some people really do live happily ever after. This story is about some of those precious few.
That was it. He was bored. He was deeply and profoundly bored. He was out of his mind with pure, unadulterated boredom, abburidemento, langeweile, and total utter ennui. If he spent anymore time here his father would be packing him off to the family suite at St Mungo's. He had to get out.
Draco Malfoy lay on top of his four-poster bed with his arms behind his head and stared at the stone ceiling above him, contemplating the design painted on it- the Malfoy family crest, with snakes surrounding the motto: The End Justifies The Means. He grimaced and sat up, decided. He sat down at his desk to write a letter to his father. Father- I've gone to France - Draco. He sat back and looked at it. Short and... Well, short anyway. After directing a terrified house-elf to pack a trunk and sent it on after him, he threw Floo powder into his fireplace and, as the flames turned green, stepped into it saying -Le Chateau Fichu.
~ Hermione Granger leant on the balcony of her room in the rented villa in southern France, ands breathed in the scent of the night air, faintly tinged with wood smoke and jasmine.
Every year she and her parents holidayed in France, and every year they always rented the same villa. This year, the summer before her seventh and last year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, was no different in that aspect. Here she was. However there was one difference, and a very important one at that- she was alone. Earlier that day her mother had received a phone call. A very old cousin had died and left the entirety of his estate to her. Never ones for putting things off, Anne and Michael Granger had flown home immediately to sort out the details, but Hermione had begged to stay. Her parents, ever trusting of their only child, had agreed. So here she was, hours later.
She had owled Ron and Harry to come over and stay, but Ron was in Romania visiting his brother Charlie, and Harry was under virtual house arrest at the Dursleys, an order enforced by Dumbledore and the Order of the Phoenix for Harry's own safety. Ginny was with Ron in Romania, and Hermione didn't thank that she could stand two weeks with no one but Lavender and Parvati for company. Still she was happy, if a little lonely. Before she had come to Hogwarts, Hermione had gotten used to her own company, as all only children have to, especially with working parents. It was one of the reasons that she had become so interested in reading. The books were her friends, and kept her company. But then she had met Rona n Harry and she had realised that sometimes she had to rely on others for her happiness. Hence the tinge of loneliness.
Absently she plaited her hair into a loose braid, smiling as she remembered the day when Lavender has kidnapped her for a 'makeover'. Hermione had come out of the experience alive, with wavy hair as the only permanent effect. The charm would last her for as long as she wanted. And in sixth year, tired of backaches from carrying too many heavy books, she had put a featherweight charm on all of her bags. It was one of the best ideas that she had ever had. Hermione would never be a beauty, but (now that she had tamed her hair, and she wasn't' hunched over) there was something about her that made people look twice at her. Maybe some hidden depth in her eyes. She was...attractive. And now she was hungry. With a sigh, she walked back into her cool room and shut the whitewashed wooden shutters. She walked down the wooden staircase and into he kitchen. She opened the fridge to find it empty. She groaned as she noticed a note in her mother's handwriting. Obviously there had been no time to go shopping before her parents left. She walked back up to her room to grab a pair of sandals and her purse, and then walked out of the house for the short walk to the nearby market.
~ Draco stepped out of the fireplace, immaculate as always, into a large drawing room. The walls were white stone, with green curtains framing the floor to ceiling windows, and green rugs scattered artistically across the flagstone floor.
Curled up in one of the room's chaise-lounges was a slight girl around nineteen years old, with silvery blonde hair, and pale green eyes the colour of peridot. She looked up from her book at Draco's entrance, and rose gracefully to meet him, smiling. She walked towards him and, holding onto both his hands, kissed him on both cheeks. "Draco, what brings you here?" she asked in fluent English, albeit with a strong French accent. "Boredom, Luci," he replied, kissing her back.
"Mais pourquoi?" Luci asked, slipping back into her native French.
He shrugged one shoulder elegantly. "Je ne sais pas. But I missed you," he replied in the same language, for French came as easily to him as English did to Luci.
"Still, you're here and that's all that matters," Luci said, sitting back down in her chair. Draco sat opposite her in an armchair, crossing his long legs.
"Where are Uncle Cassius and Aunt Hélène?" he asked.
"Paris," Luci sniffed. "Leaving me here with no one but the house-elves. How long are you staying?" she asked, brightening as she changed the subject.
Draco left it, knowing full well how inattentive his aunt and uncle were to their only child. "Until the end of the summer, unless Father calls me back," he replied.
"Fantastique." She glanced at the delicate silver watch on her wrist. "You will come out with me to the town? I am meeting some friends in half an hour,"
"Sure. I have nothing else to do," he replied.
"I will meet you downstairs in twenty minutes. I need to get changed," and with that she disappeared up the grand staircase.
Draco followed more slowly and went into the room in which he always stayed when he visited the chateau. His trunks had already been sent and unpacked, so he changed into a pair of black trousers and a shirt the same gray as his eyes. Contrary to popular opinion and his father's wishes, Draco Malfoy always wore Muggle clothes during the holidays. They were more practical. ' The only useful thing Muggles ever came up with was Armani', he thought contemptuously. Slipping a leather jacket over his shirt, Draco walked downstairs to wait for Luci. He looked up as she walked downstairs a few minutes later, and raised an eyebrow in approval. Luci was wearing a black suede miniskirt and a low cut green top with capped sleeves. Her feet and lower legs were encased in black boots.
"One thing you have to say for Muggles," Luci said, unconsciously echoing his earlier thoughts, "they know how to dress."
"But not a lot else," he replied. "Shall we?" he asked, holding out his arm.
"Oui. Let's go," she replied, taking it and they walked out into the evening.
~ Hermione walked around the small epicerie, the air conditioning raising goosebumps on her arms. She bought fruit, vegetables, eggs, milk, flour, cold ham and a rotisserie chicken.
Years of French lessons before Hogwarts, coupled with many holidays in France had enabled Hermione with the skill to be able to survive in France. While she would never be fluent as a native, it was sufficient for her needs. She thanked the woman at the till, and walked out clutching her two paper bags.
The town was quite busy for this time of day, and the streets were full of students and young people headed for the brightly lit cafes, hidden way restaurants.
Hermione sighed, walking back to the lonely villa while others her age were out with their friends, determined to have a good time. Her gaze landed on a couple, both with pale blond hair, the girl's in a bob, the guy's falling over his eyes. They were chatting easily in French. Hermione lowered her eyes and walked past. Suddenly someone bumped into her and her shopping went flying. She bent down to retrieve the items that had fallen out and the person knelt down to help her. It was the blond boy from earlier.
"Excuse moi, mademoiselle," the boy spoke in rapid French. "I did not see you. Are you alright?" "I'm okay," Hermione replied. She stood up and brushed down her royal blue sundress. He handed her bags back to her.
A female voice called out "Draco?" and Hermione looked up, startled, and met his gray eyes with her own brown ones. Recognition flashed across his face. "Oh it's you. What are you doing here, Granger?"
"None of your business," Hermione replied tightly. "And what happened to Mudblood?" she swung away and her plait slapped him in the face as she stalked away, leaving Draco to stare after her.
"Who was that?" Luci asked with interest, slipping her arm through his.
"Someone from school," Draco answered, almost absently . "Oh how interesting,"
"No!" he replied with so much force that Luci looked at him in surprise. He shook his head to clear it. "She's no one important. Let's go,"
~ Hermione walked back home quickly and entered the house, slamming the oak door behind her. She unpacked her shopping, slamming cupboards and, throwing an apron on over her dress, set the stove going. She cut the ham viciously and put spaghetti on to boil, all the while muttering obscenities at Malfoy that would have left her parents breathless.
"Talk about ruining my holiday mood!" she exclaimed, taking deep breaths to calm herself down. "Insufferable prick," she added.
Twenty minutes later her meal was ready. She walked out onto the patio, food in one hand, and a glass of red wine in the other. She sat down at the table, considered, then went back inside to pick up the book she was reading- Jane Austen's Sense and Sensibility. Bundling her hair, which had come undone, into a messy bun, she sat down to eat with one hand, holding the book in her other, and occasionally taking sips from her wineglass. Within moments she had calmed down, absorbed in her book, lost between the world of Elinor and Marianne Dashwood and the serenity of the French evening.
~ Hours later, Draco sat at the table outside a brightly lit cafe, one hand under his chin, looking aloof as he sat staring into space, his Budwizard beer untouched.
"Draco?" Luci nudged him.
He blinked. "Yes?"
"You have not heard a word of what Françoise was saying," she scolded. "You are thinking of that girl?" "Hardly," he scoffed, lying. "She's a Mudblood,"
"So?" Luci asked.
Draco stared at his cousin. Luci had always been radical but...
"Not everyone is like your father," Luci reminded him. That much was true. Luci's father was Narcissa's brother and worked for the United Wizarding Nations. And even Draco knew that before his mother had met his father, she had been deeply in love with a Muggle-born Wizard, by the name of Philippe Pascal, great-grandson of the Muggle inventor Louis Pascal. But over the years of marriage to Lucius, Narcissa had transformed into the cold, haughty woman she was now. Still Luci's reply surprised her English cousin.
"What is this girl's name?" Luci asked.
"Granger,"
"No! Her first name!" Luci said, her laughter pealing out.
"Oh. Hermione," he answered shortly.
"I have heard of her," one of Luci's friends, Jean-Pierre, mentioned. "She is the famous Harry Potter's best friend, no?"
Draco nodded grudgingly.
"Well she seemed nice enough," Luci said. "I might even get to know her," she added mischievously, with a twinkling glance to Draco.
Draco suppressed a groan with difficulty. This sounded like another of Luci's 'Plans' and he knew how they turned out- with him doing something that he didn't want to do.
Then they heard a ringing and Françoise picked up a small contraption from her bag, put it to her ear and spoke into it.
"'Allo?"... Mais papa.... oui, au revoir," she put the box back in her bag and looked at the others. "I have to go home," she said.
Jean-Pierre nodded. "I will go with you," they got up.
"Au revoir Luci. It was nice to see you again Draco. A bientot," Françoise said. She kissed Luci's cheeks. "I will speak to you soon, Luci." And they walked off.
Draco looked at Luci. "What was that box she spoke into?"
"A Vocalis. They are a little bit like Muggle telephones, but they work at all times and not on electricity. They've been charmed. We all have them. Much less conspicuous than owls, especially when you live in a Muggle town.
What?" she asked, as Draco looked at her in mild astonishment.
"You're always full of surprises," he said as he paid the bill.
"I try. Let's go home. It is almost one in the morning,"
Draco assented and they walked back to Chateau Fichu. Luci's mother had named the house as a joke because it was supposed to be cursed. They had performed cleansing spells on it, and so far had never seen a demon or even a poltergeist. However, the name stuck. Chateau Fichu- Castle Damned.