Chapter One: And the light God called Day… (Genesis1:5)
Thanks for all who read, reviewed and encouraged me to continue
Disclaimer: All characters, place names etc… are the property of JKR, Scholastic, etc…
Draco passed a very uncomfortable night on his mother's Empire sofa, which wasn't really made for a grown man to sit upon, much less sleep there. He supposed Granger thought he would just wave his wand and transfigure it into a nice, comfy bed. Little did she know, he hadn't picked up a wand since that night in the tower… Actually, knowing her, she probably suspected exactly that and thought it funny to doom him to a restless night on the dainty furniture. Consequently, he spent the night tossing and turning, pondering which questions he needed answered first thing in the morning and which ones could wait for later, feet hanging a good six inches off the sofa. He finally drifted off to a nightmare-riddled doze, haunted by visions of his father being chased by dementors.
Sometime rather early in the morning, he became aware of the voices of several people…small people. He covered his head with a pillow and tried to ignore the noise.
"Is he the one who set off the alarms, you think?"
"Probably…"
"Ooooh" a high pitched voice cooed "He's pretty. He sort of looks like the portraits upstairs"
"Yeah…you know, he kind of looks like Lord Sour Puss"
"Maybe he's related to them"
"No. One of them told me Lord Sour Puss is the last of this House"
"I don't think he looks like them anyway" a timid voice offered "He looks like…The Lady" it whispered. At this, all the children gasped in awe. Draco was soon relieved of his pillow which was replaced by a chubby hand on his forehead, pushing his hair aside. He popped open one grey eye and the children moved away from him collectively, as in a flock of birds. One small girl, the redhead from the previous night he thought, stepped forward and said:
"Hello. I'm Scarlet, who are you?"
"I am the 32nd Lord Malfoy. What are you doing, may I ask, in my drawing room?"
The children took another step back, but the redhead, easily the smallest of them, stayed put. "This isn't your house. It belongs to us… and to the Lady" she challenged.
"Children! Breakfast!" a magically enhanced voice rang out through the house. The children, mysterious stranger forgotten, ran out of the room in the direction of the grand dining hall his parents used for dinner parties when he was young. Scarlet stayed behind and offered him a hand. "Would you like me to show you the way?" she asked.
"I know the way, thank you, however a Malfoy never comes to the table without being properly attired" he replied, gesturing toward his trousers and tee shirt, the only items left on after his arrival the previous night. "You go on and I shall join you once I am presentable." The little girl nodded, smiled and left through the French doors leading to the dining hall.
Draco looked at his travel-worn cassock and decided the elves must have something cleaner he could wear. He made his way to the eastern side of the house, where the family rooms were once situated. Upon arrival at his old suite, he found it to be locked. No wand in hand, he paced the hall for a moment before one of his grandfathers, Hiero, whispered "Use the key, boy". Smiling he reached up above the door, took out his mother's "emergency key" and let himself in.
His childhood suite was comprised of three rooms and a large dressing area. The bedroom had been his since infancy, and served as childhood quarters to the Malfoy Heir since the house was built in the 16th century. The bath, along with the dressing area, was added during his grandfather's time and the third, a rather large room, Lucius had added for Narcissa upon Draco's birth. She was unable to sleep very far away for fear he would need her in the night and wanted to tend to him herself instead of hiring a governess or having an elf do it, so a room was added to the nursery which could be accessed through the dressing area or the bath. His parents relocated there until he was weaned. If ever anyone doubted his father's dedication to his mother, that story usually put wagging tongues to rest. Of course, Draco couldn't remember any of it, so it was anybody's guess as to whether it wasone hundredpercent true. That room had served many purposes. After Narcissa and Lucius moved back into the master suite on the third floor, it became a playroom. Later, he and his friends used it as kind of a "headquarters". They had parties, practiced magic (despite school and ministry rules forbidding it) and dreamed of their futures as the rulers of the wizarding world there. He smiled fondly at the memory.
The bedroom itself looked about the same but for new bedding. The furniture was even arranged in the same manner. The bath appeared as it ever had and the dressing room looked as if it had been converted to a make-shift storage area (were all the attics full?) He made a mental note to address this unacceptable situation with the elves. The extra room, however, had been transformed into a rather crowded study library. The walls were lined with shelves, even to the point of having them in front of windows. Every shelf was crammed full of books and seemed on the verge of collapse; several of them sagged under their burden. A large desk (his father's?) occupied the middle of the floor and two leather wingbacks framed the hearth. "Granger" he cursed under his breath.
'Well", he decided, "first things first." Get clean. Find an elf. Visit Mother. Go to the ministry. Evict the interlopers.
He showered and signaled for an elf. None came. He grew very irritated, but said a quick "Our Father" and decided to look for something to wear. Inside the boxes piled in the "storage room", he found a mixture of his old things and some foreign objects he decided must belong to Granger. He managed to find a suitable pair of black lounge pants with a drawstring waist and a large green tee shirt which proclaimed him captain of the fifth year"Slytherympics" Team. It was a good thing; he didn't think he could've fit into any other of his clothes from boyhood without considerable alteration.
Forgetting his promise to Scarlet of going into the dining hall, he made straight for the kitchens. Surely he could find an elf there who could help him come up with something more presentable to wear to the ministry and to visit his mother.
Upon entering the kitchen, however he found no elves, but the Headmistress herself, unloading trays of empty porridge bowls into a device Draco recognized as a muggle dishwasher. Suddenly, it dawned on him. "Granger!" he barked, causing her to startle, dropping several bowls on the slate floor.
She turned her gaze upon him, clearly annoyed. "Are you still here? I thought you changed your mind and disappeared in the night…again."
"Ha. Ha. What have you done to my elves?"
She looked at his apparel. "Put the priest costume away until the next Fancy Dress Party?"
He hadn't had this much trouble maintaining an even temper in years. "I asked you a question" he demanded, through gritted teeth.
"Did you?"
"WHERE ARE THE ELVES?"
"I set them all free. First thing I did after receiving permission to convert the house" she said, matter-of-factly.
"What do you mean, set them free? All of them?"
"Of course all of them! They were slaves. Did you think I would keep one or two for my own personal use?"
"Where are they?" He said, trying to regain the calm he knew lay within himself.
"What do you mean 'where are they'? Gone. What part of SET FREE wasn't clear?"
"You mean to tell me you set eighty-two house elves free without considering where they would live? What they would eat? How they would earn a living? Who would protect them from the ferocious beasts that live in the forest surrounding the manor grounds?"
She looked pale. Draco thought she would speak as she opened her mouth but no sound came out. She finally managed to say, in a very small voice, "The ministry cleared the forest of all animals Class XXX and above".
"Oh and where've they gone? Off to the zoo? A home for orphaned roonspores? I see you haven't changed one iota, Granger. Jump headlong into trouble, without looking to see on whom you might land. Save the world first and ask questions later."
"Excuse me, the world wouldn't need saving if it weren't for men like you!" she screeched, finding her voice again.
Spots of color formed on his pale face. "If you'll excuse me, I'm going into the attics to find something decent to wear and then to see my mother" he huffed.
"The attics?"
"I'm presuming that's where you've banished my father's robes? My old ones don't fit any more."
"The Ministry burned all of your father's personal objects. Why don't you just alter your old ones?"
"I… I don't practice magic anymore. I suppose I'll just go to Diagon Alley and buy some new ones."
"You'll need permission to spend money from the Estate's Vault and I'm afraid the executor won't think clothes are a justified expense."
"Exec…what? You know what? Forget it!" he screamed, finally losing his temper for real. "I'll just go as I am!"
She watched him storm away, but before he crossed over the threshold leading from the kitchen, remembered what she'd been contemplating before he came in. "WAIT!"
He turned. "Aren't you going to give a statement to the ministry?" She asked.
"Not that it's any of your business, but I do plan to give them a statement, as well as a piece of my mind about the sad state of affairs around here. You might want to pack. You and the miniature mudbloods will be out of here before sundown."
She harrumphed and fumed before stomping after him. "Well, for your information Father Malfoy (and what a good example of Christian brotherhood, you are by the way), I am coming with you. I plan to plead our case directly to the Minister for Magic and see that he sends you to jail, where you belong!" She stomped away from him muttering "As if they would put children in the street with no where else to go! (The next bit was unintelligible) Well, I've got news for you, your highness, but things have changed…."
He sighed a long, frustrated, semi-growl. It had been a very long time since he'd lost his temper. Or argued with another person. Or used a racial or ethnic slur. That curly-headed beast just brought the worst out in him. She made him feel like he was fifteen all over again, throwing hexes at each other across the halls of Hogwarts.
He just hoped the Ministry would see reason and return his home to its rightful owner.
Hermione stomped up the stairs to her quarters. When she arrived to find the door ajar, she thought she might've forgotten to lock it in her usual morning rush. When she stepped into the steamy bathroom, however, she let out a frustrated howl that sounded a whole lot like "hot man mouth boy" to the portraits in the hall. They were all pondering the meaning of this when Lord Sour Puss informed them that she had, in fact, said "God Damn Malfoy!" Of course, none of them believed him. For one, the Headmistress didn't curse and for another, he'd hated her from the day of her arrival and was always trying to convince the others she wasn't worthy of their admiration. He was in the middle of just such a tirade when she emerged, swearing on all that was holy that she would see "that imposter" put where he belonged and the school made safe for its rightful owners, if it was the last thing she ever did.
