A Civil Contract
Draco Malfoy, Sixth Viscount Slytherin, sat in his library with his hands clasped loosely in front of him. He was staring at the handsome brocade curtains which his mother had had made for the room less than twelve months previously, they twitched and buzzed occasionally, indicating that they were, again in need of de-doxying. They were sadly faded, from a rich red to an uneven cherry colour and only served to highlight the uncut lawn and straggling flowerbeds which was the prospect they afforded, the afternoon sunlight streaming through the panes of glass guilded his white blond hair a primrose yellow colour. Fontly Priory had been the seat of the Malfoy family for centuries. A rambling fourteenth century house set in the Lincolnshire countryside, it was spoken of favourably by all the guidebooks to the area. The sixth Viscount looked a little out of place in the faded grandeur of his surroundings, dressed in a threadbare uniform of a Captain with the nth regiment of foot he looked as if he expected at any moment to be interrupted by a call to arms. He had, in actual fact, been back in England some weeks. His father, the Fifth Viscount, had broken his neck after coming to grief over what was widely (and justifiably) regarded as the worst bullfinch in the county and his son had posted home from the French border to attend the funeral and look to the estate. It was, he had found, grossly encumbered, the little remaining unentailed property was heavily mortgaged and, with his fathers death a rather startling number of unsuspected bills had presented themselves. There was, for example, the splendid diamond necklace which, Draco suspected, had been bestowed by his father onto one of his many mistresses. He could not, in all fairness refuse to pay the sum as it was quite beyond his power to recover the necklace. A knock on the door interrupted his musings.
"Come in" He said sharply as the door opened to admit the stout figure of Mr Moffat, his agent. Moffat was, of nessicity, a Muggle, so Draco hurriedly shuffled his wand into a draw.
"My Lord" said Moffat, "I apprehend that you have sent for me to tell you how things stand?"
"Yes." replied Draco bluntly, "But I can see for myself, the land is in bad heart. I'm shockingly green, I should have learnt all this when I was a boy."
"No blame to you my Lord." Said Moffat gently, "His late lordship made some bad decisions concerning his money, many of which I was never informed of."
Draco grimaced inwardly, many of those financial transactions had been handled by goblins of dubious morals, many of these "investments" had never yielded any returns. Draco sighed and returned to the task in hand. He was slightly staggered by the shear weight of debt accrued and said so;
"I'll have to sell," he decided "You haven't put any price on the house I see Moffat, do so, and the entailed land."
"My lord!" Exclaimed Moffat, shocked. "Sell Fontly? Unheard of!" Draco raised a blond eyebrow
"How else am I to pull the family out of this cursed hole?" he asked snappily, his temper rising with the stupidity of muggles. Pulling himself together he continued more mildly, "I can't see what else is to be done"
"My Lord you have a noble title, and a house of great antiquity, many families would be happy to ally their fortunes with a house like yours." Draco was shocked,
"Are you suggesting I sell myself to the highest bidder Moffat? Be blunt I beg you."
"Bluntly then my Lord, yes" Said Mr Moffat, preparing to take his leave. He did not mention the matter again and left in a happier state of mind, hopeful that his employer had taken the hint. Not five minutes after the door had closed on his agent it re-opened to reveal his mother. The Dowager Lady Slytherin was a faded lady who had once been a great beauty but years of marriage and several miscarriages before the birth of her only child had dimmed her blond loveliness. She was, however a strong willed woman whose extravagance was almost equal to her decesed Spouse.
"I suppose dearest that you have heard how things stand. Indeed I expect to be turned out of my home at any day." she began.
"I believe Mama, that I may yet be able to bring us about." He replied.
"My dear child," She murmured "Such a comfort." As she had been granted an assured jointure and use of the Dower house at Fontly for the rest of her life he was unsure quite why his words were a comfort, but let it pass.
"I shall be going to London tomorrow Mama." He said decidedly "I suppose I'll have to explain to Ulberstone how things stand." He stood and held the door for his mother
Draco Malfoy, Sixth Viscount Slytherin, sat in his library with his hands clasped loosely in front of him. He was staring at the handsome brocade curtains which his mother had had made for the room less than twelve months previously, they twitched and buzzed occasionally, indicating that they were, again in need of de-doxying. They were sadly faded, from a rich red to an uneven cherry colour and only served to highlight the uncut lawn and straggling flowerbeds which was the prospect they afforded, the afternoon sunlight streaming through the panes of glass guilded his white blond hair a primrose yellow colour. Fontly Priory had been the seat of the Malfoy family for centuries. A rambling fourteenth century house set in the Lincolnshire countryside, it was spoken of favourably by all the guidebooks to the area. The sixth Viscount looked a little out of place in the faded grandeur of his surroundings, dressed in a threadbare uniform of a Captain with the nth regiment of foot he looked as if he expected at any moment to be interrupted by a call to arms. He had, in actual fact, been back in England some weeks. His father, the Fifth Viscount, had broken his neck after coming to grief over what was widely (and justifiably) regarded as the worst bullfinch in the county and his son had posted home from the French border to attend the funeral and look to the estate. It was, he had found, grossly encumbered, the little remaining unentailed property was heavily mortgaged and, with his fathers death a rather startling number of unsuspected bills had presented themselves. There was, for example, the splendid diamond necklace which, Draco suspected, had been bestowed by his father onto one of his many mistresses. He could not, in all fairness refuse to pay the sum as it was quite beyond his power to recover the necklace. A knock on the door interrupted his musings.
"Come in" He said sharply as the door opened to admit the stout figure of Mr Moffat, his agent. Moffat was, of nessicity, a Muggle, so Draco hurriedly shuffled his wand into a draw.
"My Lord" said Moffat, "I apprehend that you have sent for me to tell you how things stand?"
"Yes." replied Draco bluntly, "But I can see for myself, the land is in bad heart. I'm shockingly green, I should have learnt all this when I was a boy."
"No blame to you my Lord." Said Moffat gently, "His late lordship made some bad decisions concerning his money, many of which I was never informed of."
Draco grimaced inwardly, many of those financial transactions had been handled by goblins of dubious morals, many of these "investments" had never yielded any returns. Draco sighed and returned to the task in hand. He was slightly staggered by the shear weight of debt accrued and said so;
"I'll have to sell," he decided "You haven't put any price on the house I see Moffat, do so, and the entailed land."
"My lord!" Exclaimed Moffat, shocked. "Sell Fontly? Unheard of!" Draco raised a blond eyebrow
"How else am I to pull the family out of this cursed hole?" he asked snappily, his temper rising with the stupidity of muggles. Pulling himself together he continued more mildly, "I can't see what else is to be done"
"My Lord you have a noble title, and a house of great antiquity, many families would be happy to ally their fortunes with a house like yours." Draco was shocked,
"Are you suggesting I sell myself to the highest bidder Moffat? Be blunt I beg you."
"Bluntly then my Lord, yes" Said Mr Moffat, preparing to take his leave. He did not mention the matter again and left in a happier state of mind, hopeful that his employer had taken the hint. Not five minutes after the door had closed on his agent it re-opened to reveal his mother. The Dowager Lady Slytherin was a faded lady who had once been a great beauty but years of marriage and several miscarriages before the birth of her only child had dimmed her blond loveliness. She was, however a strong willed woman whose extravagance was almost equal to her decesed Spouse.
"I suppose dearest that you have heard how things stand. Indeed I expect to be turned out of my home at any day." she began.
"I believe Mama, that I may yet be able to bring us about." He replied.
"My dear child," She murmured "Such a comfort." As she had been granted an assured jointure and use of the Dower house at Fontly for the rest of her life he was unsure quite why his words were a comfort, but let it pass.
"I shall be going to London tomorrow Mama." He said decidedly "I suppose I'll have to explain to Ulberstone how things stand." He stood and held the door for his mother