Chapter 8—The Knight

It was one of the few times that Draco could recall a day of classes flying by so quickly. He wasn't sure if it was due to the fact that he wasn't looking forward to leaving for the Manor right after his last class, or that he had basically slept through all of his classes because he hadn't gotten much sleep the night before. Hermione seemed a bit preoccupied as well—normally, she would have given him several swift kicks to the shin under the table for snoring during class and if that didn't work, he would have gotten a very Head Girlish lecture about it afterwards. But today, she did neither. She didn't even seem to be taking notes as much as usual; instead, he had inadvertently seen her parchment just after he had snarked himself awake during Charms, and it consisted of phrases such as, Hogsmeade village square at 4pm, and Pick up a bunch. Draco supposed she was going to get some things at Weasley's shop for Halloween—he made a mental note to ask Hermione to find out how George liked his latest "care package" when he got back from his…fun-filled weekend at the Manor.

And so the time had finally come for him to get going. Before he headed back to his dorm room to pick up his weekend bag, he pulled Hermione into a secluded alcove and kissed her with as much ardor as he could possibly muster. Maybe it hadn't the greatest idea, because it made him even more reluctant to leave. He found himself unable to stop, and Hermione became a bit tense as he grew more and more impassioned.

"Draco," she gasped, "Draco…we have to stop."

"I don't see why," he managed right before he gently bit her earlobe.

She sucked in her breath and took a step away from him. She was breathing heavily and her eyes were wide. Draco felt a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth—he knew that he had managed to unsettle her once again. Hermione still had difficulty dealing with the intensity that he was able bring out in her, and he could see that she was struggling for control. Relax, Granger, he thought, amused, it wouldn't kill you to act without thinking and planning everything out first, you know. But he didn't say it aloud—he knew that it would only antagonize her at the moment. Timing was everything. Instead, he took a step towards her and reached out to tug on a stray curl. "You okay?" he asked.

She nodded and took in a shaky breath. "Yes. It was just a bit much…"

He sighed. "Maybe…maybe not."

At this point she had begun to adjust her uniform and was avoiding his gaze. "So, do you need anything else before you get going?"

He leered at her suggestively and her face flooded with color.

"Besides that," she said waspishly. He grinned. She really was cute when she was upset with him…it was probably why he enjoyed provoking her so much.

"Nah…I packed up yesterday," he said with a shrug, answering her question. "Well…er, I guess I'd better get going," he finished awkwardly. This was odd. He found that leaving her, even if only for a couple of days, was going to be difficult.

Apparently it wasn't difficult for Hermione, though. She gave him a warm smile and a quick, albeit enthusiastic hug. "Travel safe, Draco, and we'll see each other before you know it." Then she gave him a kiss on the cheek and a grin and dashed off down the hall.

What the hell? That was rather anti-climatic… Draco found that he was a bit insulted at the casual goodbye. Okay, Granger, just because you're not going to the Manor doesn't mean that this is a bloody walk in the park for me! Slightly miffed, he headed back to his dorm room and yanked his overnight bag out from underneath his bed. On his way down to the Slytherin common room, he ran in to Zabini.

"Oi, Malfoy, just saw your coach pulling up in the courtyard," Zabini said as he met Draco on the stairs.

Draco grimaced and grunted a word of thanks. To make himself feel better, he stuck out his foot at the last second, tripping Zabini as he stepped past. While Zabini cursed him roundly, Draco felt a satisfied grin seep across his face as he headed towards the courtyard.

He could just make out a black lacquered coach at the end of the drive. Several students were milling around the edge of the courtyard to get a better look at the fancy carriage, complete with a team of four pure black horses. Well, no one could ever say that the Malfoys didn't know how to travel in style. Being as Draco was unable to apparate from the school grounds and Lucius Malfoy refused to let anyone in his family use such a low-class form of travel as floo powder, the only alternatives were either by broom or the family coach. And of course broom was far too common a form of travel to suit his mother, so Draco was forced to settle for Malfoy carriage pick-up and delivery. He approached the carriage door and handed his bag to the footman, who hoisted it up into a back compartment. Draco stared at the door for a moment—the Malfoy family crest was emblazoned in silver across it: a large, barren tree with a snake winding up around the trunk. How appropriate…the Tree of Knowledge, being as I know for a fact that I'm headed into the viper's pit, Draco thought sourly. He yanked open the carriage door before the footman had a chance to open it for him, and quickly settled himself into a seat before he thought better of the whole situation and decided to leave.

The footman settled into the seat above and the carriage began to pull away from Hogwarts castle. As Draco watched the school grow smaller in the distance, he found himself wishing that the coach was moving in the opposite direction.

The coach's lurch to a stop was what roused Draco from sleep. Rubbing his eyes irritably, he climbed out of the carriage and scowled at the footman who was holding the door open for him. The Manor loomed up in front of him, as dark and gloomy as ever—Draco often felt like the place was frowning down at him in disapproval, but today it seemed even worse. If he didn't know better, he'd have thought that he was getting a condemning glare from the Manor, as if it knew that he was "fraternizing with a mudblood" and didn't deem him worthy of admittance. For a moment, he stared up at the Manor, the place that had been his home for eighteen years, and took a deep breath. Here goes nothing, he thought, and headed to the front door.

A house elf greeted him at the front door. "Master Draco, lets me take your cloak!" it squeaked at him. From what Draco could recall, it was one of their younger house elves, and he supposed it was female. "Yeah, yeah," he grumbled, dropping the cloak directly over the tiny house elf and covering it in the folds of cloth. He smirked as he watched the house elf struggle with the voluminous fabric, attempting to get it into some semblance of order, all the while squealing, "Very good, Master Draco, very good!" When she had finally managed to neatly fold up his cloak, Draco turned to leave, then realized that Hermione would have been downright furious with him if she had seen his treatment of her beloved house elves. She had always insisted on treating them like regular people (crazy Gryffindor, he smirked to himself), and had a rather odd sort of friendship with an especially ancient one named Creature, or something like that. Well, let's see if there's anything to this insane theory of hers. Gruffly, he turned to the house elf and asked, "You got a name?"

The house elf looked shocked to be asked such a question. After a moment of hesitation, she managed to squeak out, "Me…me name's Tooky, Master Draco."

"Tooky. Yeah, well…okay," he grunted, and turned away. He noticed as he was turning away that the little elf had begun to beam at him as if he had just told her that she had won the House Elf of The Year Contest. Oh, great…hope that doesn't become too annoying.

As Draco made his way through the house, he noticed that it was even more silent than usual. Curiously, he looked around and noticed that there weren't any servants in sight. As he glanced over his shoulder, he noticed that the ruddy house elf (Tooky, he corrected himself) was still watching him with a combination of curiosity and awe. "Where is everybody?" he demanded.

Mistress Narcissa is outs on the veranda, Master Draco! She's waitings for you out there!" Tooky squeaked excitedly. "Woulds you like me to brings you some hot spiced cider?"

Hot spiced cider—the one thing he did look forward to when returning home for Halloween weekend. The elves at Hogwarts could never quite duplicate the spice blend that the house elves at the Manor had always used. It was a recipe that had been in the family for generations, and Draco had grown up on the taste. It was a memory of happier times. "Yeah," he drawled, "bring a big mug out to me on the veranda." As Tooky happily scrambled away, Draco headed out to the veranda.

His mother, dressed in a flowing green silk robe, had his back to him, and was looking out at the gardens in a preoccupied manner. She hadn't even noticed his approach, he realized. What is it with everybody today? he wondered, then cleared his throat to announce his presence.

Narcissa turned with a start. Evidently he had interrupted her in a deep train of thought. As she faced him, her face was carefully schooled in an expression of dignified propriety, but her eyes were shining. "Draco…" she said as she took a step towards him, then hesitated as her eyes darted about.

"I'm alone, Mum." He knew that she was prepared to battle the presence of a mudblood in her house, so he figured he'd clear the air immediately.

"Oh? What a shame," she said in the least sorriest tone he'd ever heard. He couldn't help smirking a bit at the sarcasm as she leaned forward to give him a brief peck on the cheek. "Welcome home, my son."

He looked about in confusion. "Where's father?" he asked. "And everyone else for that matter? The only soul in sight I've seen is…"

"Here is your cider, Master Draco! Can I gets you anything else?" The house elf handed Draco one of the largest mugs of cider he'd ever seen.

He took a sip and savored the rich, tangy, spicy blend as it ran down his throat and warmed his insides. "Mmm…no, that'll be all, Tooky. Er…thanks," he mumbled before taking another gulp.

"You is very welcome Master Draco!" The house elf said excitedly, then disapparated with a CRACK.

Narcissa was looking at him curiously; then abruptly shook herself out of her reverie. "Well," she began, answering his question, "we had to discharge a great deal of our servants…it seems that we found out that they were talking to that Rita Skeeter woman, who was planning to write some sort of post-War expose on former Death Eaters. As if that pitiful excuse for a scribbler has the right to say anything about the Malfoy family…" she fumed, her eyes flashing angrily, even though she had managed to keep the rest of her expression neutral.

Oh boy, dangerous territory, Draco thought. "Well, what about father?" he said, steering her away from the subject of Rita Skeeter.

"Your father left a few hours ago on some sort of errand. He mentioned something about getting in touch with someone, but he didn't specify. He did say that he would most definitely be home for dinner, however," she said, as she glided back towards the hallway. Draco followed her.

"Getting in touch with someone? Today? What the hell is going on, exactly?"

"Draco, language," Narcissa admonished him. "Now, why don't you go to your room and get settled. I have a few preparations to oversee before dinner, and then afterwards I think that you should meet me in the library." And with that, she glided up the spiral staircase, her green silk robe wafting behind her in her wake.

Draco smirked. She was wasting no time in getting back that chess piece. Not if I have anything to do about it, Mum, he thought impertinently, taking another gulp of his hot cider and sighing with pleasure. Maybe this visit wasn't going to be so bad, he mused. Mum's more relaxed because I came alone and father's not here to stiffen her up. I can explain to her the entire situation before he gets home, and maybe even manage to get her on my side. Not that that was all that likely, but at least he had a small chance. Yep, this just might end up being tolerable…

Just then, the bell at the front door gave a deep, ominous ring. Draco looked around for the butler, but the room was barren. That Tooky elf appeared to be one of the few servants left at the Manor, and she was probably too busy with dinner preparations to hear the doorbell. Great. I suppose I'm going to have to answer the damned door, then. Grumbling to himself, he headed to the large wooden door and hesitated for a moment, taking one last big gulp of cider before opening it with a scowl.

"Hello, Draco, Happy Halloween!"

Hermione Granger was standing in the doorway.

His mug of cider crashed to the floor.