"The Muggle World?!"
There was no hiding the young Malfoy's outrage as he looked to his mother for some sort of relief. The letter had arrived that afternoon, while Draco had been taking his usual walk through the gardens. He hadn't thought it was necesary, he didn't think there was any way that life could resume to what it once was. But his mother had made sure that every single detail went on as if he hadn't become one of them, as if he hadn't been assigned to kill one of the most powerful wizards of their time. He would never admit it, but he was partly grateful that his mother was going through such great lengths to keep life within the manor normal. If rumors were true, things were about to become just as unmoral as they could get. Voldemort's newest plans were to move himself, and all the Death Eaters to keep the Manor as their headquarters. Draco knew for a fact that his father wasn't going to be pleased with that once they gathered him from Azkaban, but no one was going to do a damned thing about it – no one dared stand up to the Dark Lord.
But that wasn't the chief concern on Draco's mind. No. He was worried about the words written on the ghastly piece of parchment that his mother had just handed him. He wasn't important enough to be punished in person (though silently he was glad for that. If he had been forced to endure the curcio curse once more he thought that his mind would break) so the Dark Lord had sent him a letter, written in crimson ink. The scrawl on the page was familiar as he had seen it on his graded papers from time to time. Professor Snape had penned the letter, he was sure of it, even if there were no signature.
Draco –
Your punishment, as ordered by the Dark Lord Voldemort, is to spend time amounting to one year in the muggle world. You will be denied all uses of magic and your family's source of income.
His mother had handed him the slip with trembling fingers. No doubt she was upset about letting her boy go out in the world alone. Draco could care less about being alone. "No magic?!" He exclaimed, throwing a right fit as was expected. "Mother, you surely cannot let this happen! I can't go and live as one of…those…those...vile creatures!" With wide, grey eyes, the innocent ones that he knew would make her do as he willed, he turned to his mother.
Narcissa Malfoy had become even more reserved than she had ever been in the year past. With such a shock of losing her husband, and almost losing her son it was no surprise. But Draco didn't seem to pick up on that fact. His mother had never been particularly loving to him. It was improper to show too much affection, any pureblood knew that. Or…any proper pureblood knew that a distant caring for was the only way to bring up a wizard of standing.
Draco searched his mother's face, waiting for any sign that she might do something for him, but it was as if he were staring at the stone walls of the Manor. She was unyielding and as he turned back to his letter he knew he was forced to swallow the ugly truth. He would be spending a cold long year among disgusting excuses for human beings – un-evolved and stupid. He sniffed and pushed his chin up slightly, doing his best to seem strong. He would not be affected by this. He was a Malfoy. They did not lose their composures.
Yet with everything that had been happening in recent months he felt like crumbling. At one time, the beauty of the gardens had been enough to take his mind off of any of his sufferings. No matter what had been going on in his life, he could find solace here. The peacefulness offered a strange comfort, and its soft yet vibrant colors provided a stark contrast to the harsh exterior of the manor. Breathing deep he let the gentle scents caress him, soft like a mothers touch. Draco had never been that close to his mother, but he had always guessed that it would feel like that – a gentle breeze with the light scent of flowers.
His mother was watching him with sadness, though Draco could not look deep enough to identify it. Standing, Narcissa brushed a bit of grass from her robes before she spoke in a voice lacking any emotion. "You won't be seeing your father before you leave, but I will send him your greetings. The elves have packed for you. A Death Eater shall be here in the morning to direct you to the…other side." She couldn't bring herself to say the cursed word – muggle. Straitening her back she walked away, leaving Draco there with a crumpled letter and no goodbye.
Draco found himself blinking back tears. That was it? His mother wasn't going to help him? He was a grown man now, turning 17, but still to be rejected even a little bit of your mother's affection was a hard blow. Tomorrow morning. The words rang in his head. Tomorrow morning. Muggle world. For now, Draco was wishing that he would have been cursed instead of this. At least with a spell the pain would fade away. This was a year…a whole year of punishment. He didn't dare speak his thoughts out loud, or crumple the paper into a ball and burn it. No one dared suggest in the slightest that they weren't on the Dark Lord's side in these days. To do so was suicide. But if he could, he would have screamed at the top of his lungs, kicked the tree, smash the letter, burn it.
He didn't deserve this. The Dark Lord assigned him that mission knowing he would fail. He at least believed that to be true – now he did at least. The Dark Lord knew he couldn't do it. Draco couldn't kill. It bothered him to even smash a spider really, though he'd never tell a soul. No. The world would believe that Draco was just as he was supposed to be. A true Malfoy. Ruthless. But as he gazed down at his letter, he silently wished that he had at least one friend in this world. A true friend that would let him talk to.
And as he stared at the letter in his hands he wondered silently. Would anyone even miss him once he was gone to the muggle world?