Chapter 27: The New Arrangements

Draco rolled his peacock-feather quill between his thumb and his index finger. The blue tip of the quill brushed his cheek softly as he held it over the notebook in front of him, trying to figure out what to write back to Hermione. So far he had only written "Hermione" at the top of a page. He brought the quill to the page and a drop of ink splattered onto the page next to the last "e". It took a few minutes before Draco began writing anything else. When he had finally collected his thoughts, he touched the tip of the quill to the paper once again.

Hermione,

You were right; my father is mad at me. It probably doesn't help that I yelled at him the other day. Anyway, good luck with the Weasleys and whatever it is you're doing this summer.

From,

Draco Malfoy

Draco knew that it wasn't a very nice letter and that he probably should have written more. But he didn't want to. Just because Hermione told him about everything going on in her life didn't mean he had to do the same. He didn't have to be nice to her just because he had forgiven her. In fact, he didn't even have to reply to her letter. Draco knew he was only replying because he needed someone besides his mother to talk to.

It had been two days since Draco had yelled at his father, and Lucius had seemed unwilling speak to Draco since then. Narcissa came by Draco's room every now and then to drop off his meals and occasionally dine with him. Draco mostly just sat alone in his room, reading or staring out the window.

Draco closed the notebook after the ink had dried, then wrapped it in an old pillowcase he had found and tucked it under his mattress. He waited for a reply.

A few days later, Draco awoke with a huge smile on his face. He got out of bed and stretched before pulling on his dressing gown and heading downstairs, where everything was quiet. Draco walked quietly into the kitchen where he began frying some bacon and eggs.

Narcissa came into the kitchen a few minutes later, fully dressed in a fur coat with matching boots.

"Good morning, Mother," Draco said cheerfully. "Care for breakfast?" He flicked his wand and sent a plate of eggs and bacon flying toward the kitchen table, where the came to rest gently on a placemat.

Narcissa seemed shocked to see Draco in the kitchen, but quickly recovered as her face split into a smile when she glanced over at the plate of bacon and eggs on the table.

"That's right!" She said, sitting down in front of the plate. "You can use magic now, can't you? Happy birthday, dear."

Draco looked over his shoulder to smile at her. Then he picked up his own plate of bacon and eggs and sat down at the table with her. They ate in silence, their forks and knives clinking against the china plates.

"That was delicious, Draco," Narcissa said, wiping her mouth with a napkin. "Oh, would you like to do anything special for your birthday?"

Draco chuckled. "Like what?" He asked in amusement.

Narcissa bowed her head. "I see your point," she said. "Either way, I'll make you a cake today, alright?"

"Thanks, Mother," Draco said, getting to his feet. He cleaned his plate off with his wand and dropped it into the sink. Then he headed back to his room to get dressed. He dropped the notebook from Hermione into the pocket of his robes along with his wand, then pulled on a pair of black loafers before heading outside.

Draco strolled past the pond and climbed up into one of the trees near the edge of the property. He sat in the nook between two branches, his feet resting on the branch in front of him. He placed the notebook in his lap and began eating an apple as he stared out over the pond. A summer breeze rustled through the leaves of the tree. He watched the sun rise up higher over the horizon, turning the sky a brilliant blue. Draco finished his apple then threw the core far away. He watched it soar through the branches and hit the surface of the lake, sending ripples through the clear water.

Draco breathed in the clean air and the scent of the leaves of the tree. The musty smell of the sunshine washed over him as his eyelids began to droop.

Draco woke up in the late afternoon with an impression of the tree's bark on the side of his face. His hand brushed against the notebook on his lap and it started falling through the branches of the tree. Draco reached for his wand a fast as he could and directed it at the falling notebook. It soared back up to him and landed on his lap, open to the page upon which Hermione had just written a new letter.

Draco,

Happy birthday! I hope you like that you can use magic now. Maybe you could use it to stand up to the Death Eaters...?

I bought a present for you, but I'm not sure how to get it to you. So I'll just keep it with me and give it to you when I see you again. If I ever see you again.

Happy seventeenth!

Sincerely,

Hermione Granger

Draco felt a small smile creep onto his face once he had finished reading the letter. He read it three more times before pulling a quill out of his pocket and replying to the letter.

He had written the words "Dear Hermione" at the top of the next page when he heard a rustling below him. He looked down to see a bird flutter from the branch on which it had been perched. Then, he heard the sound of boots stomping through the grass. He turned his head to see a Death Eater trudging toward him with an absolutely malicious expression upon his ugly and scarred face.

"What's little Malfy doin'?" He sneered. "Writing in his diary?"

Draco tried to ignore the Death Eater, closing the notebook and facing ahead.

"What're you doing, Draco?" The Death Eater continued. "Are you hiding out here from the Dark Lord? Too scared to see him after you were too much of a baby to kill-"

"Stupefy!" Draco yelled, whipping out his wand. The Death Eater crumpled and fell to the ground. Draco jumped from the tree and stared down at the Death Eater, disgusted. Draco then heard more footsteps and turned to see Narcissa Malfoy running toward him. She came to a stop a few feet in front of him. She opened her mouth to say something, then stopped as she saw the Death Eater lying on the ground.

"What-?" She began, but Draco cut her off.

"It doesn't matter, Mother," he said quickly.

Narcissa hesitated for a moment, peering into the Death Eater's face, before looking back up at Draco. "Um, alright...Anyway," her voice dropped to a whisper. "You need to come inside. The Dark Lord is here. He wants everyone in the dining room right now.

"Why-?" Draco began. Just then, he heard his father calling out in a loud whisper that carried through the gardens.

"Narcissa, Draco, get in here!" Lucius hissed.

Narcissa grabbed Draco's arm and they hurried to the door. They walked quietly into the Manor and walked briskly to the dining room, their heads bowed. The whispers of the other Death Eaters filled their ears as they sank into three chairs lining the side of the long table that had been magicked into the room.

Once everyone was settled, silence fell over the room as Voldemort turned to face them. He had been staring into the fire as he usually did, stroking his snake. When he finally looked at the other occupants of the room, he had upon his face an expression of forced calmness. He scanned the table before starting to speak in his cold, clear voice.

"Welcome, my Death Eaters, welcome. Please, have a seat," Voldemort said in his high, cold voice. The Death Eaters all looked around, frightened and confused, each of them noticing the fact that they were already seated. Voldemort, however, seemed not to notice. He waited for everyone's attention again before continuing.

"As many of you may have noticed, I have decided to use this house, Malfoy Manor, as the gathering place for all of you. When I summon you, you shall all come here, understood?" A murmur of assent rippled through the room.

"Good," Voldemort continued. "Now, let us move on. I would like all of you to know exactly what I am planning to do now that Dumbledore is dead. Our first priority will be to take over the Ministry of magic and Hogwarts." Voldemort paused until the cheers from the Death Eaters died down. "I would like this to be done as soon as possible," Voldemort said quietly. "But I foresee some difficulty. So, while we are waiting for that to happen, I want all of you to do two things. Firstly, try to find out as much about the whereabouts of Harry Potter as possible. Secondly, I want you to wreak as much havoc as possible in the Muggle World." Voldemort's lips curled into an evil smile as he watched the Death Eaters roar in delight. He waited for them to quiet down before dismissing them by saying, "We will meet again once we have gathered enough information as possible on Harry Potter's current location."

The Death Eaters filed out of the dining room, muttering happily among themselves once Voldemort had Disapparated. Draco, Narcissa, and Lucius, however, stayed in their chairs, glancing nervously at one another. Once the room was empty, Draco got up slowly and walked quickly out of the room. He ran upstairs to his bedroom and slammed the door behind him. He took two short steps before dropping onto the bed and letting out a deep sigh.

Great. Voldemort using the house as his headquarters. Just great. Draco rolled over and stared at the ceiling. He placed his hands over his chest and breathed in heavily. He didn't Voldemort in his bloody house. He wanted to be left alone. He didn't want to have to deal with the Death Eaters until the Ministry had fallen. He didn't want the Ministry to fall at all. He wanted Voldemort to be dead. Why did he have to be a Malfoy? Or rather, why did Lucius Malfoy have to become a Death Eater in the first place? If he hadn't become a Death Eater, the Malfoy family wouldn't have to have Voldemort as their houseguest. And Draco wouldn't have to be a Death Eater.

Draco really hated his life.

But what was the point of hating it? He couldn't do anything about it. He'd had his chance to switch sides. Dumbledore had offered. Hermione had offered. But he couldn't change the past. Even with magic, because all the Time Turners were gone. Because of his father.

Draco pushed himself up and staggered to the window. He watched the sun set before sitting down at his desk and opening the notebook from Hermione and composing his letter to her.

Dear Hermione,

Thank you for your wishes. Unfortunately, this has been the worst birthday of my life. I am afraid to tell you too much, for obvious reasons. Nevertheless, I can tell you that I will not be able to step out of my room without being insulted. Well, that actually describes the past month of my life. Well, really the past year of my life.

I'm really not sure what I can tell you. I suppose I can tell you that my parents forgot to get me any birthday gift-not that I'm complaining. I'm in no position to complain.

Enjoy the rest of your holidays.

Sincerely,

Draco Malfoy

Draco dipped his quill back into the inkpot sitting on his desk before closing the notebook and dropping his head onto the desk, his face pressed up against the notebook's cover. He fell asleep at some point in the hours that followed.