Damn. Here already. He was jolted awake as the carriage came to halt at a well-worn iron gate. It was embroidered with a large dark sliver and green P, simple yet elegant in nature. The sight of it made him uneasy, as this entire place always did.
The thestrals leading the cart pawed at the ground in anticipation as the iron gate slowly creaked open. 'Alright then,' he told them softly. They reared forward, and sensing his dread adopted a nervous gait, making soft whinnying noises. To have to have traveled here by such a manner irritated him greatly. The journey had been long, dull and rather miserable in the rainy season that loomed constantly over them. Would not a portkey or floo have sufficed? He snorted to himself. Of course not. Discretion had to be used in the task he had been given, and such matters of transportation were carefully watched. And all this aside, what he was delivering made either impossible.
Ah, yes. His delivery. In the quietness he had almost forgotten he and the thestrals were not alone. Across from him sat a girl attired in simple and modest gray, white and black robes. It was a familiar dress, the only one allowed of her station. As the law demanded, her hair was no longer than shoulder length and she wore no make-up and no jewelry. She was a mudblood. She had been silent nearly the entire trip, as etiquette between someone of her standing and his own stated she should be. Despite her compliance, he could not help but feel as though there was something very forward in the girl's nature. Her red hair and green eyes stood out far too much and he found it unseemly for someone such as herself.
There would be talk. To have such a girl in ones company, labeled servant or otherwise would surely stir up gossip. And more gossip, he thought smugly, was the last thing the Prince lad needed. Although no one knew the exact story it was known among the wizarding community that the last heir of the Prince house was not of pure blood. The tale goes that his mother bettered with a muggle and bore a son. It was some mystery what happened there after. Some say the muggle and Prince daughter were murdered by her pureblood zealot family, others say it was some muggle accident and even farther down the gossip line it was said that the Prince woman killed the man and herself in pure shame. In any case, in a panic to preserve the Prince family, the boy was taken back into the house and given his mother's maiden name.
It could be assumed that he was received coldly by the wizarding world, but it was not altogether true. Fear of the old, pureblood family (and it's reputation in being deeply knowledgeable of the Dark Arts) at the very least gave him a certain amount of respect. And he had proven himself to be worthy of the Prince's during his school years. He excelled in all areas that were expected of the family name. He had come along way, for a half-blood. And yet, he thought frowning, the boy seemed to be tilting toward ruin in his recent affairs. Bringing this young woman to the castle, what did he mean by it? People would talk. They would say his muggle heritage drew him to lower beings; that he would bring shame to the Prince family as his mother did before him.
At least the boy had enough sense to bring the mudblood in under the pretense that she was to be a servant. That was common enough, wasn't it? While the muggles lived in fear and squalor beneath wizard rule, mudbloods were allowed to mingle on the very outskirts of wizard life. They were absolutely forbidden to use magic or be in possession of magical artifacts, but there was a desire among the purebloods to keep them close, perhaps to see to it their magic was properly suppressed. Despite the boys claim that she was to only be but a serving girl, he could not shake the memory of the transfixed expression Prince had as he gazed at the girl standing on a wooden platform, being bid off in the slave market. Nor could he ignore the feverish eagerness the young man's voice held when he had spoke of bringing the girl to the castle. As the castle came into view of the beast-drawn carriage came, he felt an over-whelming sense of trouble. What was his master getting himself into?