Best Served Cold

Study, Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire, England, 1992

"You're sure this is necessary, Lucius? Our family was already attacked once. Why risk going into public, where our children won't have the protection of our wards?"
"Our wards didn't protect us before, Narcissa. Potter, our friends, and I did. They will all be present in Diagon Alley. I see no reason to deprive our sons of one of the few times they are allowed there."
"No reason? No reason? What about the deaths of those twenty-seven who died on our property? What about the fact that the perpetrators haven't been found or identified? Have you lost your-"
"Do not question me on this, Narcissa," he hissed. "I will listen to you; have listened to you, in everything but this. This is necessary. If we do not continue on with our business, we will appear weak, vulnerable, more so than we already do. I will do what is best for this family, as I always have."
"By putting your sons in danger?"
"I am keeping them from danger!" he yelled.
She gasped slightly. In all the years they had been married, and all the years before that when they were friends, he had never yelled at her, not once.
"I know who has done this, Narcissa," he said, voice much softer than it was before, albeit several degrees colder. "And I will make them suffer the consequences of their actions. They will know what they have done, and they will answer for it."
"Why do you not simply turn them over to the Aurors?"
"There is no evidence, and no motive that anyone would dare mention. More than that, they command respect, and if I were to report them, it would again make our family appear weak. No, they will not answer to the courts for their crimes and become heroes and martyrs for their cause.
"They will answer to me."

Swimming Pond, Malfoy Manor

"Woohoo!"
Draco held his arms in front of his face, which unfortunately did nothing to protect it from being splashed.
"Adrian, must you do that?"
His brother shook the water from his shaggy hair- getting yet more water in Draco's eyes- and smiled innocently at him. "Do what?"
"You're incorrigible, aren't you." It wasn't a question.
"Yes," Adrian said with a mischievous grin, "I have been told that from time to time."
Draco groaned and closed his eyes. "Why, why was I, a good, law-abiding citizen cursed with an evil twin?"
"You're just lucky, I guess."
"Prat."
"It's part of my charm."
"So, d'you think that Dad will win, and we'll get to go to Diagon Alley?" Adrian asked.
"I hope so, I'm sick of being stuck here. We haven't been out of the Manor since the memorial last month," Draco said. "If we don't get out of here soon, I'm going to go mad."
They were quiet for a few minutes.
"Have you heard anything from Hermione?"
"Not a word. She's still staying with Henry and his mum and dad, last I heard. Her dad didn't handle what happened to her mum very well. Still in a Muggle hospital, as far as I know," Adrian said. He ducked his head underwater and snorted the water out of his nose when he resurfaced. "Poor bloke. Thought he was going to a party and instead-"
"He got a massacre," Draco said softly.

Diagon Alley, London, England, 1992

"We're here for the day," Lucius said, placing a hand on each of their shoulders. "Try to enjoy yourselves."
"And, what about everyone else? Our friends?" Adrian asked quietly, his face a feigned mask of amused indifference. "Will they be joining us, Dad?"
"The Potters, the Greengrass family and Blaise and Rachelina will be. The Weasleys and Longbottoms will not," Lucius replied. "Ready?"
They nodded and he steered them out of the Leaky Cauldron and into the busy alley.
~~~~~BbB~~~~~
"Why is everyone staring, Dad?"
Henry remembered asking that some eight years ago, when he had first gone to the alley with his father. He'd felt so grown up, and then all the people with their unblinking, expectant stares had frightened him terribly.
"Because they've nothing better to do, I suppose. Pity, isn't it, that they stare at small children rather than go about their own bloody business?"
He'd said that very loudly, as though daring them to contradict him, and indeed, many who had been watching turned sheepish and blushed and hurriedly began to make themselves look busy.
But the memory had stuck, nonetheless.
Today was very similar to that first day; except for today, the people who stared looked sad, or angry in some cases, rather than expectant and awestruck. Henry decided that he preferred the angry stares to the sad ones. He'd seen enough sadness to last him a lifetime.
Hermione was still so… He didn't even know what. She never slept, rarely ate, and, perhaps most frightening of all, she hadn't so much as looked at a book since the memorial.
She'd been made to accompany them today. She hadn't resisted, exactly, but she certainly wasn't enthusiastic, either.
She wasn't really anything, anymore.
Adrian and Draco rounded the corner, their impossibly calm father just behind them.
Mister Malfoy greeted Henry's father with a slight smirk, and inquired about his work. His father returned the almost-smile and said that he had just been promoted to Department Head of a new division of the DMLE. Although Henry had heard nothing of this and was surprised and confused, neither man seemed to think that this was any sort of news at all.
'Odd,' he thought. 'Very odd indeed.'
"I trust that your new position was well-earned, Lord Potter. Your wife and son must be very proud," Lucius Malfoy drawled.
"Yes, I believe they are. And it was well-earned, if I'm any judge of such things. Then again, I could be biased," James joked lightly, chuckling with Mr. Malfoy.
He cast a sidelong glance at his mother, and she seemed just as dumbstruck as he, which reassured him slightly. After all, his father and Lucius Malfoy hated each other unrepentantly, or so they both said.
"What, nothing to say to your best mates, Hank?"
He grinned and rolled his eyes, swatting Adrian lightly upside his head. "That's Henry, the boy-who-lived, Scion of House Potter to you, knave."
Adrian bowed low. "My apologies, your royal big-headedness. I did not mean to offend your fragile ego."
He laughed and clapped his friend on the arm. "Good to see you again, mate. It just wasn't the same this summer, without you and the others to blame all the trouble on."
"Benefit of having siblings; there is always someone to blame. Even if that someone is only three," Adrian said knowingly.
"That's horrible! You wouldn't really get your baby sister in trouble!" Henry said.
Adrian shrugged and smirked lazily. "I like to keep my options open."
Henry rolled his eyes and shook his head wearily at his friend. "You're incorrigible."
"Y'know, I get that a lot." He suddenly dropped his smile and peered around Henry to get a better look at his other friend. "Hullo, Hermione." He'd said it quietly, but by the way she jumped, he had still frightened her rather badly. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you, 'Mione."

She started at him blankly. It was… unnerving.
"And how're you, Drake?" Henry asked, quickly changing the subject.
"I'm well, or would be if I didn't have such an oaf for a brother. You wouldn't happen to want him, would you? I've got siblings to spare," Draco said, shooting a glare at his brother. When Hermione looked away, he jerked his head at her and mouthed, "How is she?"
"I dunno," Henry mouthed back. "I really don't."
"The idiot tricked me into eating gillyweed! I was stuck in the bath for over an hour!" Draco said loudly, picking up the story where it had left off as Hermione glanced their way.
Adrian quickly plastered a fake grin on his face. "Good, eh? To be fair, he did deserve it. He put purple dye in my shampoo, and I had to scrub for days to get it all out."
Henry laughed, almost genuinely. He had missed his friends.
~~~~~BbB~~~~~
She hated them.
She hated them all.
She hated that they laughed and joked and played pranks, and all the while, her mother was dead, buried beneath the ground and unable to enjoy what would have been a beautiful day, were the circumstances different.
She hated that they came here with their families, flaunting them for all the world to see.
What she hated most, though, was that she hated them, or tried to. They were her friends, and she wanted to hate them.
Draco and Adrian glanced worriedly at her when they thought she wasn't looking. When they met up with the Greengrasses, Daphne linked her arm through Hermione's and kept her moving at the same pace as the others, and she put her other arm through Blaise's when he and his aunt joined them nearly an hour after that. She didn't try to cheer them up, or get them to talk. She was just there. Blaise eventually broke away and joined the other boys as they strutted around the alley, joking and shoving as they went.
She knew that they were all terribly worried about her. That Draco and Adrian were being rambunctious for her benefit rather than to have fun. They were almost convincing, almost. Their smiles were a bit too tight and their jokes a few too few. They were anxious, likely something to do with her. They were wary of strangers who came too close or moved too quickly.

She knew that they would like nothing better than for her to say something, or even smile a little. But she just couldn't do it. To Hermione, it seemed so very wrong to enjoy herself when so many others never got the chance to see today, in all its end of summer glory.
The Potters had been very kind to her. They never pushed her, or asked too many questions at once, or asked if she was 'alright'. They fed her and clothed her and supplied her with whatever she wanted, except for what she wanted the most.
It wasn't their fault, or hers, or Draco or Adrian's. It was no one's fault except for his.
The man in the white mask, with the dark eyes that she'd never forget.
Her insides turned cold.
She didn't know who he was. She hadn't seen his face, really. She had no way of tracking him down, at present.
But one day, she would find him.
One day, when she was stronger, she would see his face.
And she vowed that her own face would be the last thing he ever saw.

~~~~~BbB~~~~~
"Dad, can we please, please go look at the brooms now?"
Lucius looked down at his youngest son, amused by the desperate longing in his voice. "After we get your books, yes, you may go look at the brooms."
Adrian whooped and dashed into the bookstore, shoving past Draco and Henry as he went. The other children followed eagerly after him, some laughing, others jokingly swearing revenge, and one who did nothing at all.
Lucius strolled into the store at a leisurely pace, continuing his conversation with James Potter and Alec Greengrass as he went.
"Theodore! What are you doing in the Muggle section?"
"I-I was just looking at the books, Father."
"How can you say such a thing about this trash? Muggles are vile, uncivilized animals, and I will not allow you to read their nonsense. What are you, some sort of Muggle-lover?"
Lucius smiled grimly. He knew that voice.
"Of course not! I was merely amused that these filthy Muggles think themselves intelligent enough to write at all, let alone compile 'epics' worthy of being read by purebloods."
Thaddeus Nott snorted at his son. "True enough, Theodore. Here, this is enough to pay for your schoolbooks and the books I selected. I will be waiting at the Leaky Cauldron. All of this wandering you seem to enjoy bores me, Theodore. Find me when you are finished, understood?"
"Yes, Father."
"Good lad."
Nott appeared from behind a nearby row of shelves, and when he saw Lucius and his companions, he looked very pleased with himself.
"Good day to you, Lords Potter and Malfoy. And to you as well, Greengrass. I trust you all are well?"
"Very well indeed, Nott," James said.
"Yes, thank you, and yourself?" was Alec's reply.
"I'm doing rather well. My youngest boy, Theodore, keeps dawdling at every opportunity, so I find myself in need of drink and conversation. Care to join me at the Leaky Cauldron, chaps? How did you say you were, Lucius? Still cleaning up after what happened last month in France, are you?" Nott gave him a twisted, knowing smile, and in that instant, his suspicions were confirmed
"I am about to have a fantastic day, once I finish the final arrangements for something. If you'll excuse me, Nott?" Lucius said smoothly, a slow, easy smile spreading across his face.
"Yes, of course, Lucius. Potter, how is the DMLE treating you these days?"
Lucius smiled again and went deeper into the shop. He nodded at his sons and their friends who waved enthusiastically at him, and continued perusing the aisles until he stumbled- literally- across Theodore Nott, who was covertly sprawled across a rarely-used walkway, nose buried in a distinctly Muggle-looking book.
He caught his balance on the shelf and tried not to laugh at the embarrassed look on the boy's face.
"Mister Malfo- er, Lord Malfoy, I am so sorry! That was my fault entirely, I should've been sitting up straight and my legs shouldn't have been blocking the aisle."
"That's quite alright. You're Thaddeus' youngest, right? Theodore, I think."
"Yes sir, that's me."
Lucius nodded toward the book in the boy's hands. "What's that you're reading? Anything interesting?"
"Oh, it's a book my father selected, about the properties of blood as it applies to potions and wards," he lied swiftly, keeping his hand over the title.
Lucius chuckled. "Sure it is. I used that same trick with my father when I was just a bit older than you, you know. What book is it, really?"
'Granted, I was hiding a different sort of book,' he thought, 'but the principle is the same.'
Nott looked up and down the aisle and quickly showed him the cover of the book. It featured four children in crowns, and a rather ferocious lion roaring into the sky above them.
"It's about a place where these children go accidentally and become royalty by defeating evil," the boy explained.
Lucius nodded. "Is it a good story?"
"It seems to be, and there are loads of different stories about the same place."
"But I suppose Thaddeus thinks otherwise?" Lucius guessed, silently casting a strong truth telling charm on the boy and kneeling so that they were at eye level.
"No, he doesn't like them at all. And he especially doesn't like that I like them. He positively hates that I want to be a writer when I'm older," Theodore said sadly.
"A writer, eh?"
"Not a journalist, but a real writer. Someone who invents people and places and things so that other people can enjoy them. But whenever he finds any of my writing, he burns it right in front of me."
"When I was a boy, I enjoyed drawing," Lucius said. Theodore Nott stared at him curiously. "My father hated it, said that it was unbecoming of a Malfoy scion to 'muck about with charcoals and paper all day'. But, I invented a way that I could hide my drawings from him in plain sight."
"How did you do it?"
"I used this."
Lucius pulled from his pocket a worn, black leather journal, pages slightly yellowed with age and some creased with use, but every page was blank.
"What is it?" Theodore asked, transfixed by the solution to his problem.
"This, young Nott, is a Riddle Diary. Something very secret of mine and my family's. It won't show anything that you yourself did not put down, but it will hide anything you put to paper until you need it again. The Diary is unique, though, because it will critique your work, respond to your troubles, and be a friend to you when you need one most."
"Will you show me how to make one, sir?" Theodore asked.
"No. This is one I've never used. I have many of them, and you may have this one to keep," Lucius said, handing the book to the boy.
"Truly? Sir, thank you. If there is any way I can repay-"
"No need, but as I said, these Diaries are a secret. Tell no one about this one, alright?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good lad." Lucius stood and allowed the boy to get to his feet. He began to turn away, but stopped short. "Oh, and, Theodore?"
"Yes, sir?"
"Obliviate."

I am sorry that the formatting is all screwed up. I tried every way I knew how to fix it, but it always went all jenky in the end.

That being said, please don't kill me...