Chapter 7: Letters from Egypt

Draco stepped out of the grate and into the wide foyer, brushing the soot off of his pant legs.

"Welcome home, Master Draco." Gerald, his family's thin, solemn Head House-elf swept a deep bow. "I trust you had a productive school year."

Joining the Quidditch team, befriending a Weasley, destroying the sixteen-year-old memory of the Dark Lord…. He smirked. "Yes," he replied, "It was quite productive."

"Very good, Sir," Gerald said. "Your parents asked that you join them in the drawing room upon arrival."

Draco felt a flash of resentment at the mention of his parents. His father had just been at Hogwarts, practically admitting to putting Tom Riddle's diary in Ginny's cauldron over the summer. He had looked absolutely furious when Dumbledore explained Draco's involvement in the rescue, but after Potter freed Dobby, he had stormed from the castle – and they hadn't had a chance to discuss any of it. It was going to be a confrontation, and Draco was not looking forward to it.

Looking down at Gerald, Draco took a short moment to silently curse Potter. Gerald was an uptight bastard, never hesitating to report his every infraction to his parents. At least Dobby had been amusing.

"I'll go now," he said. "Make sure Dusty puts Ares in the Owlery and gets him food and water."

"Yes, Sir. I'll also have him bring your trunk up to your room."

He nodded, and Gerald gave another low bow and moved off. Sighing, he crossed the marble floor and walked down the leftmost hall to the drawing room. The door was partially open, and he knocked lightly before stepping inside.

"Draco, darling!" His mother stood to embrace him. Draco thought she was wearing more perfume than she ought to. "Dusty wasn't late picking you up at the station, was he? I warned him not to be."

"He was there when I arrived," he replied. "Father." He nodded a greeting to his father, who was sitting in a high-backed chair, a stack of official-looking papers balanced on his knee.

"Why don't you sit?" Lucius Malfoy replied shortly, glancing up. Draco sat on the long sofa, and his mother settled herself beside him, placing a hand affectionately on his knee.

"Good," his mother continued. "It's so difficult to get decent help these days. I was just talking to Lucilla Parkinson last week and she said one of her elves ran off. Can you imagine the nerve?"

"I thought Mrs. Parkinson put tracking spells on them," Draco said.

"She did, ages ago, so she found the faithless thing, of course. But she'll never be able to trust it again, will she?"

He shrugged. "No, I suppose not."

"An untrustworthy House-elf isn't worth the trouble. She should just get rid of it," his father said, running his fingers down a long list of figures on the page before him.

His mother sat back on the sofa. "I'm sure she will."

There was a slight lull in the conversation, and Draco watched his mother survey him. "So dear," she said finally, "I've been worried about you. Your father told me you went into Slytherin's Chamber. I don't know what possessed you – you could have died!"

"My being possessed wasn't the problem, actually," he replied wryly.

His father didn't look up, but his lips pursed into a thin line. "That Weasley girl deserved it, if you ask me…writing in a dark object. What did she expect?"

Draco felt a twinge of anger. He had expected his father to act this way. The man had always been callous, and on more than one occasion, Draco had admired his ability to get his way, whatever the cost, and to feel no remorse. But for once, he couldn't find it in himself to let it pass. "What did you expect when you put that diary in with her school things?" he said, unable to keep himself from sounding accusatory.

His father looked up sharply. "Don't take that tone with me, Draco," he said coldly.

"Did you think she'd use it for decoration?" Draco continued, heedless. "Of course she was going to write in it."

His father met his gaze, eyes hard, and Draco had to force himself not to look away. "I will do what I like with my possessions," Lucius said slowly, warningly, "and you will not question me, end of discussion."

Draco's eyes flashed. He hadn't realized just how angry he was with his father for giving Ginny the diary, and his mother's tightening grip on his knee did nothing to quell the indignation building in his chest.

Lucius was still speaking. "And, if you ask me," he continued, turning back to his papers, "the girl should be thanking me. Maybe now her father will keep a closer eye on his brood."

Draco nearly choked. "Thanking you?" he said incredulously. "She could have died!" His voice had risen, and it sounded incredibly loud in his ears. He couldn't remember ever yelling in this house. "Any of those Muggleborns that were petrified could have died. I came pretty near to it too, by the way!"

His father pushed his papers aside and sat forward in his seat, his gray eyes like flints. "Those Mudbloods don't belong at that school anyway," he hissed. His voice was low and dangerous. "And you should not have been anywhere near that Chamber. Imagine my surprise when I find out that my son saw fit to risk his life for some stupid little blood traitor. Imagine my surprise when Dumbledore tells me that you've been associating yourself with her for the entire year."

"She's one of my friends!" Draco retorted. "Which you probably would have known if you hadn't spent the entire year hiding your collection of dark artifacts from Ministry officials. Did you give them all to eleven-year-old girls, or just the one?"

His father pushed himself out of the chair and stood above him, towering with fury.

"Draco!" his mother said, obviously shocked at how quickly the conversation had turned. "Your father had no idea how that diary would –"

"I should have expected you to defend him," Draco snapped, getting up off the sofa and away from his mother's grip.

"How dare you speak to your mother and me this way!" his father shouted. He raised a hand, and Draco flinched back, expecting a blow.

When he looked back up, his father's palm was poised in the air, and Draco felt a sharp stab of defiance. "What, not going to do it?" he spat. "No old diary to do your dirty work?"

His father's eyes flashed with rage, and with one swift downward stroke, he slapped Draco across the face. It stung enough to make his eyes water slightly, but Draco resisted the reflex to press his palm against the cheek.

"Lucius!" his mother whispered, covering her mouth with her hand.

Draco's held his father's gaze, and after a moment of stunned silence, he turned away. As he walked out of the room, he realized that this was the first time he had really, purposefully disrespected his parents. And he didn't regret it at all.


That evening, Draco ignored the dinner bell. He lay in bed staring up at the enchanted canopy overhead. His eyes traced over the familiar constellations. His own was right in the center – Draco, the dragon.

He didn't look up when he heard the light knock and the footsteps entering the room an hour later. "I don't want to discuss it, Mother," he said flatly. He continued to stare determinedly upward as she sat down beside him on the bed, the mattress sinking a little under her weight.

"Your father is sorry he hit you," she said gently.

He snorted. "I can tell when you're lying, Mother."

She sighed. "Well, you did provoke him."

"He deserved it," he replied. He sat up to face her. "You have no idea how close we all came to dying."

"That's just the thing, Draco," she said earnestly. "Your father and I simply do not understand why you had to be involved at all. Molly Weasley's daughter wrote in that book. She and her family should be the ones to deal with the consequences."

Draco sighed. His mother could be so out of touch sometimes, but he could never find it in himself to get truly angry at her. "She wouldn't have written in the diary if father hadn't given it to her in the first place," he replied wearily. "And even if our family hadn't been involved at all, Ginny Weasley is my friend, and what was I supposed to do? Let her die?"

"It's not your job to save your friends from their own mistakes, Draco," she answered, as if that was the most obvious thing in the world.

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Apparently loyalty to friends isn't particularly valued in our family," he said flatly.

"Don't give me that attitude, Draco," his mother said sternly. "You know that we value loyalty – loyalty to this family. That is the most important thing. And that's another cause for concern. Spending so much time with a Weasley is beneath you, dear."

"She's Pureblood and in Slytherin, Mother. What more do you want?" he said, annoyed.

His mother regarded him seriously for a moment, then exhaled heavily. "Do I need to remind you about Andromeda?"

This time, Draco really did roll his eyes. "No, I know all about your disgrace of a sister who married some random, bumbling Muggle."

"Exactly," she said. "And it almost broke my poor mother's heart."

"I wasn't aware Grandmother Druella had a heart," Draco muttered under his breath.

His mother continued on as if she hadn't heard. "Do you want to break your mother's heart, Draco?"

"Merlin, Mother," he snapped. "It's not like I'm going to marry her, all right?"

"Good," she replied. "Now, go and apologize to your father. The things you said to him were inexcusably rude."

Draco sighed. "Mother –"

"Do it for me, then," she said. "I simply cannot tolerate all of this tension between the two of you."

He met her eyes. "Fine," he said finally, scooting off of the bed.

"He's in his study."

Draco exited his room and crossed the length of the manor to his father's private study. He would apologize, but he really was only doing it for his mother. She wasn't nearly as cold as his father, and he loved her.

But, he thought, she was a weak woman. She never contradicted her husband – ever – and Draco couldn't remember her ever expressing an opinion of her own. The realization gave him a strange twinge of discomfort.

He had always wanted to marry a woman just like her, but now he realized that a woman like that would probably bore him to death.


It was late in the evening, and the party guests were beginning to take their leave. He and Blaise were sitting by the fire, Butterbeers in hand.

"I would say that was a success, mate," Blaise said, raising his glass in salute. "Happy birthday to you."

Draco smirked. "Oh, you mean a success besides the fact that Rabastan was flirting shamelessly with your mum?"

"Are you kidding? That was part of the success," Blaise said, grinning. "My stepdad's facial expressions kept me laughing the entire night."

Draco snorted into his glass.

"Speaking of flirting," Blaise continued. "Pansy was all over you tonight."

"Pansy's always hung around me," he replied skeptically. "I didn't notice a difference."

Blaise rolled his eyes. "Batting her eyelashes, touching your shoulders…I almost lost my dinner." He looked at Draco speculatively. "She's not too bad looking, though."

Draco shrugged. "She's all right."

"And I bet she would hex off her own nose for a chance to be Draco Malfoy's girlfriend."

"I think that would make her significantly less attractive," Draco quipped. "And I don't know who would be more thrilled if we got together – Pansy or my mother."

Blaise laughed, and opened his mouth to reply.

"Draco, darling!" His mother's voice cut into their conversation, and he looked up to see her approaching, a glass of champagne in one hand and a package in the other. "Another gift just came for you. It was a foreign post bird – who do you know in Egypt?"

His brow furrowed as he took the package. "No one," he said, but his mother had already retreated back to the circle of laughing adults on the other side of the room.

"Well, let's see it then," Blaise said, raising his eyebrows.

Draco ripped off the outer packaging to reveal a small white box. A square card slid onto the floor. Blaise picked it up and read it, eyebrows rising to his hairline. "What the hell is Weasley doing in Egypt?" he said, proffering the card.

Draco skimmed it, the corners of his lips tugging into a small smirk.

"Malfoy –

I heard Neville Longbottom had one of these your first year and you were so jealous that you stole it. Never fear, now you have one of your very own.

Enjoy, and happy birthday to the thirteen-year-old who has everything, including a very slick Nimbus 2001 and an ego the size of a house.

Yours truly, Ginny"

Grinning now, he opened the white box and pulled out a round glass ball, about as big as his fist. He tossed it between his hands and clear smoke swirled inside.

Blaise threw back his head and laughed. "I had forgotten all about Longbottom's Remembrall," he said, catching his breath. "That girl is hilarious."

"Didn't I tell you?" Draco replied.

"What's going on with you two, anyway?"

"What do you mean?"

Blaise shrugged. "Usually, when two people disappear for an entire evening and then the whole House comes down to find them sleeping on a sofa together, there's something going on."

Draco rolled his eyes. The morning after they'd come out of the Chamber, he had read aloud from the History of Magic textbook until Ginny fell asleep. Which, he thought wryly, had taken all of five minutes flat. Binns really ought to consider assigning a different book. In any case, he had fallen asleep down there as well, and he'd only woken up when a group of gawking early-risers had come down to the Common Room the next morning. "We're friends," he said shortly.

"You're really not going to tell me where the two of you disappeared to for five hours?"

Draco smirked. "No."

"Hey!" Blaise countered, shooting him a glare of mock offense. "I'm your friend."

"Exactly," Draco replied smoothly, "Which is why I won't tell Weasley about the time we found that Boggart in your basement and you pissed your pants."

Blaise laughed. "Fair enough, I suppose."

"Blaise, dear, I think we'd better head home now." They looked up to see Blaise's mum leaning casually on the back of her son's armchair and holding a glass of red wine between her long, slender fingers.

"All right," Blaise said, standing. "See you later, mate. Happy birthday."

Half an hour later, when all of the guests had left and the House-elves had started cleaning up downstairs, Draco retreated to his room. He set Ginny's gift down on his desk and re-read the card. It still made him grin the second time around. He sank into his chair and dug out a fresh sheet of parchment and a quill. Pulling his favorite pot of deep green ink toward him, he began to write.


"Weasley –

Thank you for the Remembrall and for your usual cheek. Blaise and I had a good laugh. By the way, what the hell are you doing in Egypt?

Un-forgetfully yours, Draco"


"Malfoy –

Glad you like the gift. I considered getting you a castle, but couldn't decide on a color. The Remembrall's specially charmed, you know. It shows you what you're forgetting, instead of just turning red. Handy, huh?

How did you know I was in Egypt? My dad won a Daily Prophet drawing, so we're here visiting my brother Bill.

Cheekily yours, Ginny"


"Ginny –

Very handy, thanks. And the owl looked like Cleopatra. It had nothing to do with the stamp on the package that said Ptolemy Post.

Snarky as always, Draco

P.S. Met any mummies?"


"Draco –

No, but we did meet this nice, old witch who kept following me around the market trying to sell me freckle-remover. Lovely woman.

Miffed, Ginny"


"Ginny –

I hope you bought loads of that stuff.

Courteously yours, Draco"


"Draco –

No, but I did try to buy you a cure for albinism. Unfortunately, she was all out.

Just as courteously, Ginny"


"Ginny

Nice try, but I happen to know that albinism is very popular with the ladies. Just ask Parkinson. I think Blaise's exact words were: 'She would hex off her own nose for a chance to be Draco Malfoy's girlfriend.'

Take that, freckles, Draco"


"Draco –

So Pansy's got her eye on you, eh? That's about as big a surprise as the Cannons big loss last week. Speaking of which, been practicing?

Your friend in foreign lands, Ginny"


"Ginny –

A little. Are you trying out this year?

Inquisitively, Draco"


"Draco –

I've heard Flint is a real arse when it comes to try-outs, but probably. Why?

Chaser-hopeful, Ginny"


"Ginny –

He is, but power through. We could use you. I'm not going to be setting any records. What were you saying about an ego the size of a house?

Self-deprecatingly, Draco"


"Stranger –

Who are you and what have you done with Draco? It's true, you're kind of rubbish on a broom. I hear you're pretty good with a basilisk fang, though. Do people know about the Chamber, by the way? I figure I should be prepared.

Ginny, pseudo-Heir-of-Slytherin"


"Ginny –

I won't tell if you won't. How are you holding up?

Sincerely (seriously), Draco"


"Draco –

I've been better, but the nightmares are fading. Thanks for asking. I'm back on British soil. It's cold.

Shivering, Ginny"


"Ginny –

A few weeks abroad and you're already spoiled. I saw your family in the Prophet. You're definitely the least ugly, though your brother's pet rat is a close second.

Complimentarily yours, Draco

P.S. Isn't your birthday coming up? What do you want?"


"Draco –

You know your compliments? Stop giving them. And yes, it's August 11th. Don't worry about a gift, though. I doubt you can upstage me and that frankly amazing Remembrall.

Ron's Care of Magical Creatures textbook has been trying to eat him. He figures he'll have to open it on the first day of class, so I give him exactly two weeks to live.

Looking forward to getting out of this house, Ginny"


"Ginny –

Consider yourself upstaged. See you on the platform in a week.

Happy birthday from, Draco

P.S. You better make the damn team."


"Have a good year, darling." Draco turned his cheek for his mother's kiss. A few feet away, Dusty the House-elf was loading his trunk onto the Express.

"Do try not to get in any more trouble," his father said coolly. Draco gave him a slight nod.

"Don't worry, Mr. Malfoy," Pansy said smoothly. She and her parents came up beside them. "I'll look out for him."

Lucius gave her a tight smile before turning to greet her father.

"Excited to go back, Draco?" Pansy continued as the adults fell into conversation.

"I suppose so," he said. "Is that a new owl?" He nodded toward the dark eagle owl that her House-elf was currently bringing onto the train.

"Yes!" she said, eyes gleaming happily. "I haven't decided on a name yet. Do you have any –"

Suddenly, a darting red blur flew toward him, and he nearly fell over from the force of collision.

"What the –" Pansy shrieked.

It took him a full second to realize that he was being hugged fiercely. "Weasley, what the hell?" he said sharply. When he pulled away, he saw that she was flushed and smiling widely. The summer had worked wonders; she looked so much more carefree than she had at the end of last year. Her giddiness made him grin.

"Upstaged indeed," she said. "You bloody show-off!"

His grin widened. "I see you got my gift."

"Got it?" she said, "I already took it out for a test run. I mean, it's a Cleansweep Seven!"

"And?" he asked, raising his eyebrows.

"As good as advertised," she said.

"Then I suppose I'm a satisfied consumer," he replied.

"You should be. Thank you," she said genuinely, meeting his eyes.

Pansy cleared her throat loudly. "Don't you think we had better get on the train," she said, annoyance evident in her tone.

Draco realized that the group of adults behind them had become conspicuously silent, and he looked up to see them all staring. Mr. and Mrs. Parkinson's mouths were open in shock, his mother looked distinctly uncomfortable, and his father's jaw was clamped tight with anger. A quick look down the platform revealed an equally indignant-looking Weasley family.

"Yes, let's," Draco said.


Crabbe and Goyle had already claimed a compartment, and Ginny sank down across from Draco. Pansy took the seat beside him, looking thoroughly pleased with the seating arrangement. He draped an arm casually around her shoulders, and she beamed.

Ginny caught his eye and made a disgusted face. He smirked.

She glanced out the window as the train began to roll out of the station. She didn't see her parents; they must have taken off as soon as she boarded.

"What happened out on the platform?" Blaise appeared in the doorway and leaned casually against the frame for a moment before sinking into the empty seat beside her. "Your parents looked ready to kill," he added, looking at Draco.

"Weasley here practically attacked him," Pansy said.

"He bought me a Cleansweep Seven," Ginny explained.

Blaise's eyebrows went up, and she saw him shoot a surprised glance at Draco. "Are you trying out for the team this year?" he asked, turning back to her.

"Yeah, probably. Chaser."

Blaise looked impressed. "I'm a Chaser too. Are you any good?"

"I wouldn't underestimate her," Draco said. "She's been playing against her gaggle of brothers for years."

Ginny nodded, a smile playing around her lips. "Trial by gingers."

Blaise and Draco burst into laughter, and Pansy leaned back against Draco's arm, a scowl on her face.

The train barreled through the countryside, and they talked easily as the hours passed.

"I think I'm going to get a pasty," Crabbe said. "Anyone want anything?" There were shaking heads all around as he left the compartment.

"So do you reckon the Ministry will catch Black?" Blaise asked speculatively.

"My parents figured he would go to your family, Draco," Pansy said. "Isn't your mum his last relative not in Azkaban?"

"Wait, really?" Ginny asked, obviously surprised.

Draco nodded. "Something like that. They're cousins."

"Bloody hell," she swore.

"Potter must be scared out of his wits," Blaise commented. "That or bent on revenge."

"I don't think Harry knows actually," Ginny said. "About why Black was in prison in the first place."

They all turned to her. "And no one's told him?" Draco asked.

She shrugged. "I don't think so."

Blaise laughed. "Wow, that's cold."

"Hey," Crabbe said as he came back in. He spewed bits of pasty everywhere with each word. "Who's the old man in Scarface's compartment?"

"What are you on about, Crabbe?" Draco asked, rolling his eyes.

"There's some old bloke asleep in there. He looks like a homeless –"

Suddenly, the light in the compartment went out, and with a loud creaking sound that made Ginny's teeth hurt, the train ground to a halt. She looked out of the window. The sky was the inky blue of twilight, but the countryside looked calm enough.

"What the hell –" Blaise stood and opened the compartment door to glance out. "Lights are out all along the train," he said.

Draco disentangled himself from Pansy and joined Blaise at the compartment door. "Maybe the –"

He was cut off by a loud shriek from further up the train, and Ginny felt a sharp jolt of fear. Frightened yells began to sound along the hall outside, and they were getting closer and closer. She hated herself for freezing up, but she found that she was shrinking farther and farther back into the corner.

"Bloody hell," Blaise murmured, and she could hear the thread of fear in his voice at the sight of whatever was out there, moving along the train. A wave of cold seeped into the compartment, and Ginny's heart began to pound as her breath came out in puffs of visible air before her.

"Get back," Draco said quickly. Blaise stepped back and Draco reached to shut the door.

But suddenly a large shape darkened the doorway, and Draco retreated back into the compartment. The figure was swathed in a cloak of shredded black cloth. It towered over them, it's breath coming out as a rattle. The cold seemed to reach into Ginny's insides, and now it turned to her, and she knew that it was looking at her, even though all she could see beneath its hood was a dark hole of black.

She began to feel heavy, and an all-too-familiar blackness began to bleed in at the corners of her vision. She could identify the feeling now – her soul was being taken, just like it had been taken by Tom – and she began to panic. Her heartbeat was loud in her ears, but the figure was still looking at her, its head tilted a little to one side, and the blackness was seeping farther and farther in, blinding her….

Why won't you just give up, Ginny Weasley? She heard the voice as if Tom was sitting right next to her, whispering in her ear. Her throat closed up with fear.

And suddenly she knew no more.


"Ginny, it's gone." She heard the voice before she opened her eyes. She felt groggy, and she groaned a little as she pushed herself up. The light in the compartment was back on, and Draco was kneeling over her, his gray eyes dark with concern. "Are you okay?"

She nodded. "It felt like Tom. I heard –" She stopped herself short, noticing the other faces peering at her from above.

"Somebody get her a chocolate frog," Draco said, glancing behind him. She saw Blaise leave the compartment.

"What was it?" she asked.

"A Dementor. I saw them once, when I went to visit my Aunt Bellatrix in Azkaban. They serve as prison guards there."

Blaise came back in and handed Draco a wrapped frog. "Here," Draco said, helping her back into her seat, "Chocolate helps." He broke off a piece of the frog and proffered it. "Eat it."

She chewed and swallowed, and immediately felt warmth fill her body. "Why were they on the train?" she asked.

"Probably looking for Black," he said.

She glanced around. "And no one else fainted?"

He shook his head.

"I think Potter did, actually," Blaise said. "A couple compartments down."

Ginny nodded. "Oh." There was a rumble beneath them as the train started moving again.

Draco put a hand on her arm. "Ginny?" She looked up and met his eyes. He broke off another piece of chocolate. "Finish the frog."


Author's Note: Random thing - I realized as I was writing this that in a previous chapter, I said that Draco owns a tawny owl, but according to HP Wiki, he actually has an eagle owl. Sorry about that slight breach of canon.

I hope the format of this chapter wasn't too confusing. I really enjoyed writing the letters, especially! Thank you to all of you who have been reviewing - you guys are so encouraging! Keep 'em coming! There are also a lot of people who have been putting this story on their alerts or favorites - if you do that, please leave a review as well. I want to hear from all of you!