Reaching For The Beatific

Book 1: Styx

Prologue IV: Disappearer

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, but I sure wish I did.

A/N: Many thanks to Chester99, Guest, Zen (guest) and Codevivi for the sweet and encouraging reviews. You guys are simply the best and I hope I'll catch you guys again!

The last part of the prologue is her, hyped? I know I am though..

I hope you guys like it and let me hear what you think :)

Love, Hannah


IV

I took a look into the hate

21st of August 1999

Great marble statues of Roman gods and goddesses lined the entrance hall of the university, the ceiling was covered in a mosaic work of Minerva, the goddess of wisdom, an owl flanking her arm, and big tapestries telling myths hung on the walls. Since Draco had entered the building, his eyes had been everywhere at once, the beautiful decorations and art and its colours mesmerizing him. There was art that must have been made centuries ago, around the time the college was constructed, which had found place even before Christ was born.

It seemed Blaise was here often, or he acted like it, because he didn't spare a glance at his surroundings, and led the way deeper into the building at a quick pace, with the air of someone who had been a student here for years already. It was safe to say Draco was surprised and overwhelmed.

After walking from hall to hall, across different classrooms and climbing different stairs, Blaise stopped walking and pointed to a big oak door at the end of the hall they were in. At a much calmer pace they walked towards it, Blaise straightening himself as if he was preparing for a fight.

He opened the door and Draco walked in after him. They stepped into a small office, an old woman with glasses perched at the tip of her nose, was seated at a desk. The whole room was positively stacked with parchment and old dusty books, and you could hardly see the old woman through the mess.

Not even looking up to see who got in, she said in a thick Italian accent, "Good morning. You can make an appointment by sending an owl; average waiting time is six weeks. Have a nice day."

Draco started walking back to the door, thinking they needed to leave, but Blaise stopped him by holding up his hand. "Dear Miss Moretti, I hardly think I need to make an appointment."

The old witch finally looked up with that, peeking over her spectacles with a raised eyebrow, and said in an irritated and tired voice, "Young Zabini."

Blaise simply nodded in acknowledgement and said with a big grin, "Miss Moretti, Sei come me? Bello vederti di nuovo; L'ultima volta che ti ho visto non eri vecchia come ora!"

Moretti narrowed her eyes, threw up her hands and huffed, "Ho avuto un sacco di dispiacere atteso il giorno che si sarebbe solo a piedi in questa stanza. Ma Oh, va bene, ma all'interno, il suo calendario รจ gratuito per quest'ora. Non dimenticate i saluti a tua madre bella da fare.''

Blaise led out a hearty laugh at that, and spread his arms in mock innocence.

Draco nudged Blaise with his elbow, not understanding anything at all of what was said, "What did she say?"

Blaise grabbed him by the upper arm and slowly led him to another door in the room, "She said she despised me, that we could see the headmistress of this University, Signora Da Sangallo, and that I had to remember to send her regards to my mother." He turned one last time to Moretti, winked, and then knocked on the door to what Draco guessed was Da Sangallo's office.

After a small voice called from the other side of the door, permitting them entrance, Blaise sauntered with easy step in the room, Draco following closely behind him.

The room was much lighter and tidier than expected after the sight of the office space they were previously in. Big windows on one side of the room let in an oasis of light, books were neatly stocked and arranged in a big bookshelf that covered the other side of the room, and in the middle of the room, a great oak desk stood, an old, petite lady sitting behind it, scribbling away on a piece of parchment.

Draco suddenly felt overwhelmed by the realness of it all; he was in Rome, he was in the office of the headmistress, he was one step away from his new life. So why did he feel like he didn't belong already?

When in Rome, do as the Romans.

"Oh, please do take a seat, Young Zabini." The lady, which Draco assumed was Da Sangallo, said in a singsong voice, still scribbling away.

"Miss Da Sangallo, what a pleasure to see you again, after all these years." Draco heard Blaise say, his tone more polite and restricted than the one he had used to talk with Moretti.

Da Sangallo looked up after they had taken there seats, and if she was surprised to see Draco there, she didn't show it; her eyes merely flicked over him in an almost bored manner, "Tell me, young Zabini, who is this gentleman you brought with you?"

Before Draco got the chance to compose and introduce himself, Blaise said matter-of-factly, "This is Draco Malfoy, my best friend since childhood. He wants to apply too."

Da Sangallo's gaze turned to Draco and lingered for a second too long on his face, as if her interest was piqued at the sound of his name. Well, of course she was; he was a Malfoy; he had been a Death-Eater.

"Tell me, young Malfoy, did you lose your tongue so that you can't even introduce yourself? I can tell you, it doesn't surprise me."

Clear dismissal sounded through her words, and he was taken aback; he hadn't spoken a word and she already thought of him as lacking.

When in Rome, do as the Romans.

So he chuckled lightly, and said politely, "Of course not, young Zabini just jumped the queue of speakers, as is expected of him."

Blaise turned to me, surprise and anger evident in his eyes.

Da Sangallo averted her gaze again, clearly dismissing Draco. "Now tell me, Zabini, what is your business here in Rome?"

"We would like to apply for college, Miss Da Sangallo."

"I already thought you would. Actually, I already expected you here last year, but you didn't come, why is that?"

Blaise faltered for a second in answering, but he quickly composed himself again, "We took a spare year, after. . .-"

Da Sangallo quickly gestured for him not to finish that sentence, "Tell me, what course did you have in mind?"

"Ever since I was a boy, I wanted to take the same course as my father; Arithmancy. You know that, miss." Blaise answered politely.

The polite tone Blaise used made him wonder why exactly Blaise was nearly licking this woman's ass. It made him wonder why exactly this woman asked questions she already knew the answers to. It made him wonder what kind of test this woman was setting out, and if it was meant only for him; because it had quickly became clear to him that in her eyes, he was an embodiment of the devil's spawn himself.

I don't want to act like the Romans.

Da Sangallo's looked at him again, a mocking eyebrow raised, "And you?" The not-quite hidden venom in her voice made him suppress a shiver.

He drew in a big breath to control his emotions, and said calmly, "I've always been interested in the Classics."

There wasn't any reply, instead, the woman stood up with a sigh and made her way across the office, the muffled sound of her heels on the carpet filling the tense air. She strode back to her desk with two forms, laying one in front of them each along with a quill and ink.

"You have to fill these out forms fully. When you're finished you can drop them off at my secretary, miss Moretti. She will process them. You will now within a day after you've sent it if you're accepted."

Blaise stood up, but when Draco was raising himself too, Da Sangallo lifted her hand, "I want to talk to you, Mr. Malfoy, for a few minutes privately."

Resentment and anger bubbled up inside of him, but did he even have a choice in this matter? He already had a suspiscion she was going to bullshit these 'couple of minutes' full.

He heard Blaise shut the door behind him, and the silence that followed made him feel even more tense.

Pathetic. I act like a little child.

He could only hope that a couple of minutes, truly meant, a couple of minutes. He still needed to visit their apartment with Blaise, fill out this form and write a letter to his mother; he just wanted this day to be over with.

He wanted to run. He wanted to go some place where he felt like he belonged, because the feeling of injustice and powerlessness seemed to lurk behind any corner, behind every face he saw, and he was sick of it.

What if I do deserve this; they have to have some kind of reason, right?

Death-eater. Devil. Murderer. Just like my father.

Da Sangallo circled around her office space, her hands folded behind her back, and Draco was watching her, waiting for her to attack.

But when her voice reached his ears after another tense minute, it was rather anticlimactic; it sounded calm and eerie. She didn't want to fight, she wanted to dance.

The mocking voice echoed around in his skull again, when in Rome, do as the Romans.

I always was a good dancer, my Mother said.

"I just wanted to warn you, Mr. Malfoy, that I have little tolerance for violence, the Dark-arts and Pureblood supremacy. I will take certain measures if you only just as stick your little Pureblooded toe out of line." She turned towards me, a mean glint in her eye, "You remind me too much of your Father, but nevertheless, I also have low tolerance for prejudices."

"That's. . . interesting, Miss Da Sangallo."

Her finger pointed accusingly at me, "Don't play coy, Malfoy, I know what kind of persons you and your family are." She had lost the dance, and she knew it. She wanted to fight.

My Mother always said that boys like me aren't made for fighting.

So he stood up, picked an imagery thread for him pants, and replied, "I can promise you, Miss, that I'm not the exact copy of my Father. I will behave, if only it was for my dear Mother's sake."

Da Sangallo smiled tightly, "But what are you even here for?"

He made his way to the door, turned around, shrugged his shoulders and replied, "I just want to study at an university."

He closed the door softly behind him, turned to the secretary and said, "You will receive my application this afternoon. Have a good day."

Striding through the abandoned halls, underneath high ceilings, past large windows that let in pale sunlight, a salutary peace came over him like a warm blanket. The ants disappeared.

Marble faces of great heroes and beatific gods gazed down on him, approving of him. Maybe it was just his insanity, maybe it were just emotions, that made him feel content. Anyway, it was soothing and nostalgic and quiet.

It reminded him of centuries ago, when he was a child, running through Mother's rose-garden, chasing Pansy and Blaise.

Even though he spent all his afternoon wandering through the soothing halls, Da Sangallo's piercing question kept ringing mockingly inside his skull, "But what are you even here for?"

And with the question, his imaginary and truthful answer, Does it even matter?

-XXXXXXXXX-

The apartment was rich, red and romantic. It was big too, bigger than expected, bigger than it needed to be.

The first thing Blaise did was order booze.

The first thing Draco did was settling himself in his room.

He couldn't quite grasp the idea yet, that this was going to be his home for a couple of years. It wasn't that he was going to miss the Manor, but he had been fine with staying at campus. He would have been more than fine.

His room had his own bathroom, walk-in closet and study. It was all dark wood, renaissance paintings and even more marble.

It's cold. Unfamiliar. It's strange, but nice?

Maybe this luxurious house just had to grow on him, just like you first need to warm up your sheets before you truly feel comfortable going asleep.

He sat behind the desk, filled out his application form and he lifted his owl from its cage. After figuring out how to open the window, he tied the form on the owl's leg and let him fly away.

He was examining the bathroom, opening cupboards, turning on faucets, when the shrill sound of the doorbell ringed through the house, a sound he wasn't accustomed to hearing. He heard Blaise open the door, laughter and happy chatter sounding from below the stairs.

"You got a lovely place right here. Greatly situated. And what a space!" He heard a voice call out, one he immediately recognized as Theodore Nott's.

He walked through his quarter, through the hall, and then descended the stairs. A wine bottle was popped open, Pansy was laughing at something.

He made his way through another hall, another room. He was already lost in this house, great.

By following the sounds, he finally found the kitchen. Inside he found as he had predicted; Pansy, Theodore and Blaise, standing around the kitchen's platform, each of them sipping red wine.

He closed the door behind him, the sound causing Pansy to spin around on her heel and exclaim, "Draco!"

Draco gave her his signature smirk, "Hey, Pansy, darling."

He felt Theo's gaze already burn into him as Pansy flew into his arms, making him stagger a little backwards in surprise.

"How are you doing? You seemed so absent last night!"

He laughed into her shoulder, "I'm great, Pansy. Thank you for asking." He pulled back and looked her in the eye, "And how are you doing, beautiful?"

He didn't think of it as possible, but Theo's gaze grew even hotter.

Blaise coughed, "Draco, do you want a glass too?"

He let go of Pansy and stepped away from her. Theo threw him a warning glare, but he couldn't care less about that douche. "Please, thank you." He replied to Blaise.

They had went through two bottles of fine wine, Pansy had made her infamous pasta and they had had French cheese as dessert, when Pansy was hiccupping and said, "Theo, babe, I think we need to go to our apartment." She slapped her head as if she had forgotten something, and added; "I totally forgot to invite you over for dinner next week! Everybody's coming, to celebrate our spare moments of free time before we dive into our books. Please do come."

"Of course, we'll be there, with an extra bottle of wine." Blaise replied with one of his stupid winks.

Pansy obviously didn't think of it as stupid, because she reached over and pinched both Blaise's cheeks. "You're just so cute." She slurred.

Theo quickly pulled her back in her chair, and said annoyed, "Come on, Pans, let's get you home. Remind me not to make you drink this much wine the next time around." He gave us both one last angry glare; as to blame us for Pansy's intoxicated state.

After receiving a peck on our cheeks, and after a few awkward waves, Pansy and Theo were gone, and the house quiet again.

Blaise drained his glass and stood up, "I'm going to bed, you too?"

Draco stood up too and glanced at the clock that hung above the mantle, "Yeah, it's already quiet late."

After taking a hot shower in his new bathroom, he grabbed a piece of parchment and quill, and wrote a letter to his Mother.

Dear Mother,

Rome is even more beautiful than I thought it would be.

Today we went to the University and applied for our courses. I'm going to study the Classics; you know I always wanted to do that. I hope you're proud.

The college buildings are magnificent and absolutely breath-taking. I spent most of my early afternoon just wandering the halls, looking at the art, before I went to see our apartment.

I say apartment, but by definition it's more like a house! It's warm, cozy and luxurious.

I feel right at home.

I'm so excited for the years to come, and I'm very glad you support my choice.

You said in your letter that the neighbour's wife has fallen ill? I hope it's nothing serious, but send her my well wishes anyway.

I hope the British weather will not be too harsh on you.

Love,

Your Son, Draco

When he was done sending that one too, he found his acceptance letter laying on his bed.

I need to work on my Roman act, was his last thought before he drifted away in the too soft mattress.


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