"Welcome to Grimmauld Place 12." Sirius said, making a gesture towards the hall behind him.
Draco was staring at him. This was the man that escaped from Azkaban two years ago for killing 13 people. And he was going to live with him? For real?
He felt angry and shocked. Why would he live with a criminal? Why this man of all the people? He wanted to run away, to clench his fists and punch someone in the face.
Kingsley said good evening, turned around and got in the carriage, then flew away. Sirius moved out of the way for Draco to step inside.
The hallway was dimly lit by a large chandelier hanging in the ceiling, and on the walls there was several gas lamps. The wallpaper was peeling, and the carpet were worn thin. Ahead, there were a troll-leg, working as an umbrella stand. On the wall next to the troll-leg, there hung a portrait of an old witch.
"Ah." Sirius said when he noticed that Draco was looking at the portrait. "That's my mother. And this is the dining room"
Sirius led him into said room, which was to the left of the hall. It was rectangular, with an oblong wooden table in the centre. There were many different chairs around it, all of them standing around the table in a mess, like the people who were sitting there suddenly got in a hurry to get away from there.
Sirius showed him the kitchen, and then they went upstairs to the first floor. When they got to the drawing room, they stopped and went inside. On the greenish walls, there were branches reaching out, covering the room. On the branches, there were pictures of family members, which was looking like leaves.
Draco hadn't really said anything so far, but now he gasped, and Sirius turned his head to look at him.
"Yes?"
"Why is there a picture of me here?"
He pointed to one of the leaves. It was a tiny picture of him, with a text under which read Draco Malfoy.
"This family tree shows the House of Black." Sirius began. "There aren't many pure-bloods left nowadays, which makes almost every pure-blood-family in England related to each other somehow. The Malfoy family and the Black family are an example of that, though they're related in distance. Most purebloods have what I like to call pure-blood-mania, they are almost obsessed with the importance of being pure-blood. My mother, Walburga, and my father, Orion, were second cousins, and they married each other anyway, because they both were pure-bloods. I didn't share the same thoughts on the matter, and that's why the picture of me on the wall were burned off" he explained, and pointed to the other side of the wall, where there was a hole.
His father had told Draco about pure-blooded families when he was younger, but he wasn't told this much. According to this tree, he was related to Remus Lupin, the werewolf Defence against the Dark arts-teacher he had last year, the Potter family, and even the Weasley family.
He couldn't believe he never knew about this before, nor that noone ever told him. Maybe his parents were ashamed, or something along the lines.
Draco walked around the room, taking his time to look at all the branches and its leaves. Some of these people he recognized. Sirius was looking at him with his hands folded behind his back. When Draco was done looking he turned to Sirius, and they walked out of the room and he went to show Draco the other floors.
In the stairs on the way to the third floor, Sirius turned to Draco and said:
"I haven't told you this yet, but there's a hippogriff in the master bedroom. His name is Buckbeak."
Draco felt like he was sucked into a black hole. That was the same hippogriff that attacked him in third grade.
This all was a bit too much. But he had to keep it up, since he didn't have a choice. But having a big hippogriff in one's house is insane alone, but one that had been sentenced to death, and that he himself knew about? He sighed deeply.
They walked the last few steps to the bedroom, Draco slightly behind Sirius, and then Sirius opened the door.
His eyes were glistening, and he looked really excited. But when they stepped inside, they saw that Buckbeak was sleeping. Sirius's happiness turned into dissappointment, like that of a dog.
"Well, we'll just visit him later. You're gonna love him." he smiled to Draco. He didn't tell him that he hated the damn thing.
After the tour had been finished, the two sat in the kitchen eating soup and bread for dinner.
"Okay Draco, I'm sure there's a lot you would like to know. And I don't blame you, I mean, I would be skeptical too!" Sirius laughed, trying to get some kind of reaction from the boy opposite to him. Draco just looked up from his bowl at him.
"Yeah, there's a lot I want to know." he stated, not with the enthusiasm Sirius hoped he would show. But he continued anyway.
"Yes, of course. As you most possibly know, I sat in Azkaban from the years 1981 to 1993..."
He told Draco everything. Draco sat listening, and he was so concentrated he even forgot to finish his meal, which grew colder and colder with every word Sirius spoke. It didn't really matter, Draco still wasn't that hungry.
When Sirius finished, it was dark outside, and Draco didn't really know what to say as a response. Everything he wanted to say sounded ridiculous in his head.
He felt overwhelmed by what the suit-clad man had said, and though he didn't trust Sirius yet, he couldn't deny that he understood him for what he had done, or what he hadn't done, though to some extent.
Sirius had told him about his inprisonment, and why he was put in Azkaban, what his family was like, why he lived here - everything but the Order. He thought that he would wait for Dumbledore to say it was okay to tell Draco about it first. Also, he had given Draco enough things to think about already. He saw on Draco's face that he'd been trough so much lately that he looked weary and tired, and much so for a fifteen-year-old. He had greyish circles under his eyes, which darted across the room nervously. He had been doing that the whole evening, like he was scared some monster would pop out of the walls all of a sudden. Sirius knew terrible things about the Malfoy family, but seeing the Malfoy son like this made him feel sorry for him. Even though his parents were assholes, Draco didn't have to go trough all of this.
When Dumbledore told Sirius about this whole situation, he didn't want to take Draco in at first. But Dumbledore convinced him that even though Draco's the son of a Death Eater, he's a person too. He told Sirius that he had to drop that attitude of his, to instinctively choose sides, and that it would only cause pain in the future. The past was the past, and he had to let go of it sooner or later.
Later Draco went to bed. The bedroom he was sleeping in was on the third floor. The house was completely quiet, and he could even hear his heart beating.
His bedroom was much smaller than his old at the manor, but everything here was much smaller than at the manor. He might've been spoiled, but for him, the manor was still home and he had grown up there. He tried to think that at least it couldn't be much worse than this. The thought didn't comfort him at all.
He closed his eyes, and his lightly coloured eyelashes rested against his skin. He tried to relax, but he did not like this place at all, and it was hard to ease up. The house smelled wierd, and it simply didn't feel a bit as home.
On the wooden desk a few metres from his bed, his eagle owl called out. Draco wanted to release her because she seemed bored, even though she haven't been here for that long time. But he didn't know if he was allowed to open the window or anything, since Sirius was still hiding.
He went trough all the things that had happened today in his head. He'd gone with the Hogwarts train from the school, went with a guy named Kingsley to his house packing some extra things, and gotten here, at Grimmauld Place 12, and was now living with a man on the run.
It was too much. He didn't want to be here. He wanted to be somewhere else, but not here. Only today, there's been so much happening, so many things to take in, so many secrets told.
He cried quietly. At first a few tears, but then they started to stream down his reddened cheeks. He didn't want to be here.
