Many years ago, I went down to Malfoy Manor, in eastern Texas, from my
native Delaware, as a tutor to Lucius Malfoy's only son, Draco. I had lied
in my exchange of letters with Lucius over my position, lied about my age,
indicating it as two and twenty, five years older than the truth. My
parents had been dead since my infancy, and I longed to escape the custody
of my mother's spiteful sister and her family. Sirius Black, who had been a
close friend to my father, paid for me to have schoolbooks at a young age.
By the age of seventeen, I was proficient in Latin, mathematics, and
literature. I traveled down to Malfoy Manor then, of the assumption that I
would be instructing a young boy.
Malfoy Manor was immense. The plantation grew cotton and ranched cattle, as was typical of that area of country. Throughout the dusty expanse were dark backs: the slaves bent over in toil. Sirius had opened my mind to the truth of abolitionism, and that truth burned righteously in my heart. However, I was aware that to betray this part of me in these circumstances would entail a sort of suicide.
"Welcome to Malfoy Manor, Mister Potter," a voice behind me said. I turned around and found the voice to belong to the overseer, Snape. His sallow complexion and harsh features gave me the impression of a bitter man, yet his eyes briefly showed a flicker of decency.
"Mister Malfoy and his family eagerly await your arrival in the parlor," Snape continued, leading me through the nightfall to the impressive brick house. At the door, he left me to the hands of a house slave.
"This way, Master Potter," the slave murmured, showing me into the parlor. The desire to give him and his fellow slaves my assistance in escape seized my mind. I thought then to educate my new pupil in the immorality of slavery, he being young enough for new ideas.
However, when I entered the parlor, where the Malfoy family sat in wait for me, my thoughts proved to be a hasty ones.
Draco was no small boy. He looked to be at least my true age. And he was beautiful. My sodomite urges, the sin I thought I had silenced, began to scream at me. I looked away from Draco and instead turned my eyes to his parents.
"Welcome to Malfoy Manor, Mister Potter," Lucius said coolly, standing up to shake my hand. His wife, Narcissa, greeted me in similar fashion.
"I hope that you will be a good influence upon Draco as well as a capable teacher," Lucius continued. "He has rather strange...habits that my wife and I would like to break him of."
Draco smiled rather wickedly at me, rolling his eyes behind his father's back.
"I shall do my best, Mister Malfoy," I replied, a little frightened of what strange habits Draco might have.
"Draco, show Mister Potter to his room," commanded Narcissa softly to her son.
Draco rose from his chair, taking a candelabrum, and led me away from the parlor.
"You don't look to be two and twenty, Mister Potter," he said as we climbed the stairs.
"Why would you doubt my age, Draco?" I asked, poorly hiding nervousness.
"I did not call you a liar, Mister Potter, but you look not a day over my own age, and I am but seventeen," Draco replied. "However, I am sure you shall prove a splendid tutor. If you will be tolerant of my 'strange habits', as my father so tactfully put it, I am sure we shall be good friends as well."
With that, he opened the door to my room. As he walked away, I nearly believe I heard him whisper, "Perhaps even lovers in addition." in his honey-thick drawl, light in a way almost like a woman's.
I lit a candle and unpacked my trunk, which a slave had brought up to my room. Wearied from the day's journey, I took off my spectacles, blew out the candle, and fell into sleep.
Malfoy Manor was immense. The plantation grew cotton and ranched cattle, as was typical of that area of country. Throughout the dusty expanse were dark backs: the slaves bent over in toil. Sirius had opened my mind to the truth of abolitionism, and that truth burned righteously in my heart. However, I was aware that to betray this part of me in these circumstances would entail a sort of suicide.
"Welcome to Malfoy Manor, Mister Potter," a voice behind me said. I turned around and found the voice to belong to the overseer, Snape. His sallow complexion and harsh features gave me the impression of a bitter man, yet his eyes briefly showed a flicker of decency.
"Mister Malfoy and his family eagerly await your arrival in the parlor," Snape continued, leading me through the nightfall to the impressive brick house. At the door, he left me to the hands of a house slave.
"This way, Master Potter," the slave murmured, showing me into the parlor. The desire to give him and his fellow slaves my assistance in escape seized my mind. I thought then to educate my new pupil in the immorality of slavery, he being young enough for new ideas.
However, when I entered the parlor, where the Malfoy family sat in wait for me, my thoughts proved to be a hasty ones.
Draco was no small boy. He looked to be at least my true age. And he was beautiful. My sodomite urges, the sin I thought I had silenced, began to scream at me. I looked away from Draco and instead turned my eyes to his parents.
"Welcome to Malfoy Manor, Mister Potter," Lucius said coolly, standing up to shake my hand. His wife, Narcissa, greeted me in similar fashion.
"I hope that you will be a good influence upon Draco as well as a capable teacher," Lucius continued. "He has rather strange...habits that my wife and I would like to break him of."
Draco smiled rather wickedly at me, rolling his eyes behind his father's back.
"I shall do my best, Mister Malfoy," I replied, a little frightened of what strange habits Draco might have.
"Draco, show Mister Potter to his room," commanded Narcissa softly to her son.
Draco rose from his chair, taking a candelabrum, and led me away from the parlor.
"You don't look to be two and twenty, Mister Potter," he said as we climbed the stairs.
"Why would you doubt my age, Draco?" I asked, poorly hiding nervousness.
"I did not call you a liar, Mister Potter, but you look not a day over my own age, and I am but seventeen," Draco replied. "However, I am sure you shall prove a splendid tutor. If you will be tolerant of my 'strange habits', as my father so tactfully put it, I am sure we shall be good friends as well."
With that, he opened the door to my room. As he walked away, I nearly believe I heard him whisper, "Perhaps even lovers in addition." in his honey-thick drawl, light in a way almost like a woman's.
I lit a candle and unpacked my trunk, which a slave had brought up to my room. Wearied from the day's journey, I took off my spectacles, blew out the candle, and fell into sleep.