To all the wonderful readers (new and returning)
As some of you might know, I took down this story in order to rewrite it. In doing so, I'm hoping to have fixed many holes in the story as well as add some details that will assist me in continuing the adventures of Draco Malfoy past this one story. I have began reuploading the chapters as on 9Aug21 and would like to reiterate that every single chapter has been changed while other chapters are basically brand new. Chapters will be posted on a biweekly schedule and as of right there, there are aprox. 30 chapters if I do not break them down any further due to word count.
There is a ton of artwork also being added to the story, but I am not able to post them on this site, so if you're interested you may go to IG and follow CR McCarthy for the beautiful pieces crafted by my good friend BD_Bellamy. To my Beta Blueeyedsue, as always, thank you so much for your continued help. Without you, I would have far too many commas in places there should not be one.
With one final notice, I will end my expanded A/N. Each chapter is inspired by a specific song and is named accordingly. To assist in making the songs easily accessible to my readers, I have created a playlist on Spotify.
open. spotify playlist / 4U7o1y5mby9j2WLUdidPrE?si = 23a92ca1475840c6
If the link does not work, you may also look it up by the name Malfoy Mysteries. My biggest request from you beautiful readers is that you are entertained! If you are, please like, comment, and share. My favorite things are notifications letting me know one more person enjoyed the story. If you have a favorite aspect within the chapters, character, or line - hear from you makes my day just a bit brighter.
Now - without further delay - Chapter 1 of Malfoy Mysteries.
DOLOREM MORTIFERUM
Deadly Sorrow : Myuu
August in Wiltshire was chaotic enough to keep anyone guessing what kind of day they would be getting. On this day, lightning flashed across the darkened morning sky with a thunderous roar welcoming Draco home for the first time in three years. Frigid water fell from the ends of his slightly too long blond hair to drip down his back, driving the cold deeper than the howling wind ever could. Trembling fingers gripped his wand tightly, turning his knuckles as white as his face likely was. Heaving a deep sigh through a clenched jaw, he continued the tedious process of dismantling the multitude of wards surrounding the gothic building. After his mother there had not been a permanent resident at The Manor, so extra precautions on top of the normal blood wards and elven enchantments had been placed to keep anyone unwanted out. The side effect, each one had to be undone individually and in a specific order to gain access again. Another crash of thunder ripped across the overgrown grounds when he pulled out a silver knife. A single drop of Malfoy Blood smeared across the family crest and he was able to penetrate the last ward. Opening the door, an ominous groan mixed with the sounds of the storm, covering the sharp intake of breath when he moved into the obscured foyer of Malfoy Manor.
Stepping inside and closing the door, he was encased in darkness as the storm continued to roll through the land outside. The torches that normally warmed the entrance refused to spark to life, depriving him of both light and warmth while walking through the abandoned shell of the old family home. Even a quick drying spell couldn't stop the shivering that was racking through his body causing his normally elegant stride to slide into a sluggish shuffle. Footsteps muffled by dust covered rugs carried him down a hallway until he found himself standing in front of a draped grand piano. He remembered the room around him being bright with natural sunlight that glistened off the crystal of the chandelier and candle holders throughout the space. The season's preferred flowers would be sat on the handsome table settled under the large windows and the black of the piano would shine like freshly polished diamond. That's not what the room was now. Instead, he saw only shades of grey covering the walls. The only natural light coming in through the windows was from the flash of lightning across the angry sky and the vase meant to showcase a beautiful bouquet was nowhere in sight. With a quick pull, the thick fabric covering the elegant instrument fell to the ground in a cloud of dust, proving the expected gleam was only a fond memory. The ivory and black keys just as inviting as they were on his first lesson. Hesitantly testing the sound as he sat, a mixture of sadness and joy rumbled through his chest remembering the first time he performed a melody for his mother. Taking a moment to catch his breath and remember the song, he began to play sorrowfully. B. C. D. Music ricocheted off the walls, an eerie and beautiful sound cutting through him like shears to a rose. B. C. D. C. B. B. C. Unable to complete the song without grief overtaking him, he slammed his hands on the keys. A monstrous sound reverberated around him as he stood, refusing to let the tears building fall.
Despite the lightning subsiding outside, his magic was still on edge as he moved deeper into the Manor, sparking from his fingertips. Spine-chilling silence filled the air. Portraits of long ago dead ancestors moved only their eyes to watch his progress, refusing to say a word to the descendant that allowed their legacy to fall into abandon. A trail of droplets from his still damp hair followed him like breadcrumbs, offering a temporary path out of the consuming darkness around him. Finally giving in, with a wave of his wrist, flames flickered to life in lanterns all around him. Yet despite the orange glow, he still didn't feel welcomed or warmed. Shadows danced across the dingy walls like silent demons waiting to drag him deeper into his own personal hell. Pale hands pushed against the dark, wooden doors granting him entry to what was once a sanctuary to him. As he gazed around the expansive room, he no longer felt the peace he used to associate with the smell of old books and the sound of a crackling fire. Instead, the stale air clung to him as his eyes found the stain of blood next to his mother's favorite- what used to be his mother's favorite- lounge.
His stare never left the blood-stained carpet while numb legs carried him forward to the black upholstered chaise. With a ragged breath, Draco ran his hands over his face and into his disheveled hair. Nothing had been moved in three years. Nothing shifted, cleaned, or disturbed in any way since he locked the doors last. Yet, for him, everything was deranged and upturned. His heart felt heavy taking in the scene that had been added to his nightmares. Nights of screams and torture had evolved into drowning in blood and honeyed laughter. It was enough to make his stomach churn. Turning to the cold hearth, his foot hit a book on the ground just below the chair. Biting his cheek, he picked up the book and placed it on the table with an ungraceful Thunk. The blood-stained pages telling him she had been reading it when it happened. Breathing became a painful and conscious action as his fingers lingered on the faded green cover. Tears seared behind squeezed eyelids before he quickly turned, leaving the library and making his way up to the second floor.
Passing a pair of glass French doors, he saw sunlight beginning to sneak through the darkened clouds as the rain continued to gently paint the overgrown garden in an ominous ambiance. He opened the doors and inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of rain and trees in an attempt to drive away the touch of death otherwise surrounding him. The peacocks have been long gone, fleeing when The Manor had been overrun by Death Eaters and snakes. The perfect edges of the hedges had been so lost, it would take more than magic to find them again. Roses and ivy wound their way up trellises and fences, undeterred by lack of grooming, giving a wild beauty to the otherwise forgotten escape. All changes Draco expected and was prepared to face, until he saw none of his mother's favorite Wiltshire Ripples blooming. That solidified her absence in a way nothing else could. Falling to his knees, his burning eyes could no longer hold the tears and they began to fall relentlessly.
It had taken a great deal of convincing himself to come back to The Manor. Convincing himself that he was strong enough. Hoping his heart would not break further while walking the familiar halls. As he sat on his heels with his head in his hands, the idea of being strong enough seemed outlandish at best. There was so much he had to do; forms he needed to find, books to be sorted, items to get rid of, paintings to preserve or destroy, and so much more. It all seemed too much as he crumbled on the balcony. This wasn't supposed to happen. She wasn't supposed to leave him. Not yet. Not any time soon.
The rain had stopped completely and the clouds broke apart allowing the sun to burst through, bringing with it a humid heat before Draco was able to compose himself. Slowly, he rocked back onto his feet, and forced himself to focus on the numerous tasks that needed to be done, giving himself just enough strength to stand.
Heavy mahogany doors fell open to reveal a solid, matching desk littered with papers, books, quills, and a crystal decanter housing his father's preferred brandy. Lucius Malfoy's study had always been off limits to Draco as a child, with the explanation that it was meant for the Head of House only. With a bitter laugh at the irony, Draco proceeded to light a fire before turning his attention to searching the drawers. Shuffling through the correspondence between his father and his business associates. Observing his father's once immaculate script as it turned into the untidy scribble of a child, it became clear to Draco when the fear and anxiety took hold. Eventually, under a false bottom of a drawer, Draco was able to find the documents he had been looking for. Pulling them out carefully, he began to read.
Ownership of The Manor had been transferred to him the moment Lucius had been sentenced to 50 years in Azkaban. As soon as that had been made official, Draco appointed his mother Guardian of the Estate, as he had no desire to dwell on the property again. Along with all the Malfoy properties, Draco was given authority over all remaining assets, the position as School Governor for Hogwarts, as well as the Malfoy seat on the Wizengamot. Where those were all benefits he appreciated being confirmed, that was not what he was after. What he needed he found at the very end of the deed for the Malfoy Estate. A clause that granted him permission to rid himself and the property of any and all Malfoy artifacts, portraits, books, or heirlooms he so desired without repercussion was his focus and a small weight was lifted from his shoulders when he read the confirmation. His lips ticked up for just a moment while he steadied himself to continue. A withered piece of parchment sticking out from under a pile of old text caught his attention, causing him pause. Gently releasing it from its pile, his breath caught in his throat; it was his contract.
Years had passed since the last time he thought about the obligation he had been forced into at the young age of 11 by his father. Longer still since he had actually been granted an opportunity to read it over. The churning of his stomach began again as he skimmed the passages, reminding him of the outcome expected of him, expanding his distaste for the outdated traditions of Pureblood families. Rereading the document several times, he quickly became exasperated when he couldn't find the loophole he was desperately searching for. Deeming it trivial for the time being, he decided it could wait until he found out exactly what happened to his mother and who was responsible.
"Conservatam agnovimus," He muttered the charm to preserve the paper from aging further and added it to the stack of parchments he would be bringing with him.
The sky had evolved from the dreary clouds that plagued the early morning hours to a bright blue, obscured only by fluffy white clouds allowing the sunlight to accentuate the layers of dust over the cloth-covered furniture throughout the rooms. The owner's suite was located in the far eastern corner of the Manor on the second floor. To reach this particular room, Draco had to pass by the room he had occupied in his early childhood. A room close enough that Narcissa was able to get to him easily if needed, but not close enough to bother his parents any other time. He moved from this room to his own wing just after his 10th birthday, but he could remember coming back to it constantly. His father would reprimand him for succumbing to childish ways. His mother, though, she would sit with him for hours talking or reading in the room. It was a sense of comfort for him on the nights he had trouble sleeping as a child. Running a hand over the stone wall opposite of the bedroom door, a ghost of a smile played across Draco's face thinking back to the summer before he started Hogwarts.
"Why don't we have paintings here? Is it because they will make noise when we sleep?"
"Because I refused to see your ghastly great grandmother's portrait every night," Narcissa said with a wink.
Securing the light hearted memory in a protected place within his mind, he continued into his parents' suite, setting a course directly to the boudoir entrance. The action of raiding his mother's jewelry was never something he thought he would have to endure alone. The process of inheriting the Malfoy Ring was supposed to be a time of excitement, and if he was lucky, a time full of love. Instead, he could feel the redness in his eyes and heaviness within his chest. The hole in his heart ripping further open with each heirloom he sorted. A broach here, a bracelet there. Endless hairpins and earrings. Most items would be secured in his Gringotts vault waiting to be claimed, while others he preferred to keep close to him. In the very middle of a vast array of rings sat a dark tear-shaped sapphire with a crown of seven individually set diamonds supported by a petite white-gold band. One of his mother's favorite pieces. She designed it personally and deemed it the new Malfoy Engagement Ring, claiming she didn't trust the darkness within the ring passed down by her new Mother-in-law. With the commission of her new wedding ring, she also designed a new signet ring that had been passed to Draco on his 17th birthday.
"Times are dark now Dragon, but the darkness will always bow to the light of a new day."
Her words echoed in his mind as he wrapped the ring in his hand. Pulsating heat flowed from the ring, spreading across his palm and mixing with the warmth radiating from his own ring before inching up his arm and into his chest, momentarily wrapping his broken heart in a blanket of comfort. Swallowing hard, he pocketed the unique treasure and allowed his focus to fall onto his father's pocket watch and finally to the deep blue velvet pouch he knew housed his mother's favorite necklace. Pulling it out, a small roll of parchment fell onto his hand. Already knowing what it said, he placed it back into the bag without a second look. The 17 diamonds of different sizes seemed to glow with warmth and a pure white light in his hand. His magic sparked as his thumb ran over the gems. Another piece she had designed, however this wasn't commissioned until the summer before his fifth year. She made him come with her, claiming she wanted to introduce him to the jeweler he would likely soon be dealing with on a regular basis. At the time he thought it was ridiculous, but now he believed his mother had a different idea in mind. Especially remembering the essence of magic the man took from Draco, claiming it would allow him to add Draco to the account.
Utter shite he knew now, but as a teenager, it was never something he would question.
Letting the necklace fall into the depths of velvet, he closed it and scanned the small room. His goal was to minimize what was kept, but he had not anticipated separating with gaudy furniture and antique trinkets would pull at the small threads holding him together so much. He needed to gather the essentials and leave the rest for a different day. Emotionally, he could not do anything else today. Smiles, laughter, and love used to fill the corridors he was walking through, but now, a shade of grey misted over the memories as he made his way back to the main floor. The walls he had built up in his mind were crumbling brick by cracked brick, turning to dust in the fires of loss that tainted the memories.
Stepping out into the cooling evening air after extinguishing the torches and warding the door, he apparated to an alcove off the street just outside The Leaky Cauldron. Muggle London was a new and appealing place for him and he vowed to explore it more, if only for the comforts of anonymity. Pushing through the throngs of the early dinner rush, he made his way to an empty stool and signaled for the barman's attention. After giving his order, Draco turned to study the atmosphere.
Candles and torches provided a welcoming feel as light cascaded down the stone walls and across the old wooden tables. The large fireplace on the far wall was filled with dancing flames, fighting off any chill that threatened to make its way to the customers. Lively patrons filled every table and booth talking loudly with family and laughing even louder with friends. Smiles and friendly embraces surrounded him, making Draco feel more alone now than he had felt the entire day. There had been a point in time when he had been included in a group similar to the coworkers holding up their glasses in a cheers, a moment when he had been hugged tightly around his waist before receiving a kiss on his cheek like he witnessed between a couple of friends as they went their separate ways. An ache filled his chest with a question, a hope, that he might still be welcomed back by those whom he considered friends five years ago. The sound of a rocks glass on the wooden surface of the bar behind him drew his attention away from a young couple laughing and holding hands a few tables away.
Heaving a sigh, he muttered his thanks and twirled the tawny liquid in small circles before taking a nip. The alcohol tasted of roasted oak before it burned down his throat. Thoughts swarmed his mind as he posted at the bar. Today he had barely been able to scrape at the layers of grime that had built up without succumbing to his overwhelming emotions. Emotions his father would deem made him weak, vulnerable. Emotions he had tried to suppress for years, only succeeding when the plot of revenge took seed. The knowledge that he would have to spend the next week scrutinizing the Manor made him wish for a stronger drink than the bourbon he was sipping. The buzz of the crowd washed over him as he set his chin on his fist. Entranced by the swirling liquid as he rotated his wrist, he let his mind wander into a state of stillness in a hope to control the emotions that no longer allowed themselves to be pushed into a lonely corner. After some time, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed someone new take up residence on the stool next to him. Knowing that the bar was only going to get busier as the night went on, Draco continued to stare at his glass.
"You know," A deep, mischievous voice reached his ears, "I don't know if I should be more offended you disappeared without a trace, or that you show up after all these years without so much as a word."
"Wasn't particularly wanting company," Draco responded before taking another swallow of bourbon. He placed the glass down and turned to look at his old friend. "There's no offense to be taken, Blaise."
Bright, ultramarine eyes locked onto Draco's before they narrowed in reservation, "So you're back then?"
"Yeah, mate. I'm back."
A large hand cupped Draco's shoulder as Blaise let out a hearty laugh. His white teeth made brighter by his deeply tanned skin. The enthusiasm at hearing Draco was staying in the area was contagious, and Draco was broken out of his woeful mood instantly as a small laugh escaped his lips. The barman slid a glass of whisky to Blaise and the voices of the two friends blended into the roar of the ever growing crowd of the night. They spent the evening and well into the night catching up on what events occurred in London over the last few years while Draco was gone, including Blaise's promotion in the Department of International Magical Cooperation. The position allowed him to travel all around the world to represent the British Ministry of Magic, it also allowed him to meet many witches he would likely never see again. This, Blaise informed Draco, had been the highlight of the job.
"The perfect excuse!"
Draco laughed at his friend's antics. Not much had changed since they left Hogwarts after their eighth year for him. Blaise still chased anyone that was decently pretty and smelled nice; a way to keep his heart from being broken. Or so Blaise would claim. Draco knew better though, because since their sixth year at Hogwarts Blaise had been pining for a certain blonde that refused to give him the time of day. The real heartbreak, Draco presumed, but didn't say anything. Instead, he let his friend continue on about the Romanian girl he met just last week.
When the topic of attractive women became overtaxed, Blaise turned the conversation toward Draco. The tension in his shoulders visibly returned when asked what his plans were now that he was back. Blaise noticed this instantly and fixed him with an intense look until Draco caved. The last Blaise knew was that Draco was attending Healer's Training in America and was to come back to secure a job at St. Mungo's, allowing him access and time to create new potions that would help the wizarding world. What Draco told him now was so different from where he had originally planned to be, it had his friend asking obscure questions to make sure it was really Draco sitting in front of him.
"Why? Why change when you were almost done?"
Silence followed the question. A silence that stretched on as the crowd slowly dwindled around them. Draco refused to elaborate where they were, and Blaise wasn't going to be detoured from getting his answer.
Draco knew that coming home was going to be difficult, but he had no idea how to factor in the people he was once constantly surrounded by. He had no idea how they would take the news he brought with him, nor did he know if they would accept what he believed needed to be done in order to rectify the grievance done against him. He had hoped that some of them would stick by him, but never considered it a real possibility. Because of that, he never thought out the right way to actually tell his friends the truth behind what happened. The truth behind the cover up by the Ministry. Behind the murder. Beyond that, he had no idea how they would help (or hinder) his plan for revenge. Cutting his eyes to his friend, he saw Blaise already looking at him with a raised eyebrow, the light behind the bar dancing in his eyes, and a smirk curling from the corner of his mouth. It was the look of a smug bastard that knew he was about to get exactly what he wanted. Blowing out a breath with puffed cheeks, Draco's eyes rolled up before turning to look directly at his friend. Opening his mouth to begin explaining to Blaise everything, he was stopped short by a blinding flash of a camera.
Coughing at the purple smoke surrounding his face, he tried to clear it by waving his hand while squinting at the offensive source. Blaise could be seen mirroring Draco's actions as the perpetrator bounced on the balls of his feet holding a camera. A Quick Quote Quill with a feather as dark as night floated next to his ear scribbling on a notepad. Draco didn't recognize the mousy haired man in front of him, but he instantly loathed him being so close.
"Wow! I can't believe it. Draco Malfoy, finally back after disappearing almost five years ago. Only surfacing for your mother's funeral. Tell me, where have you been? What made you come back? Do you have plans to step in as head of Malfoy Corporation? What about taking your seat in the Wizengamot or on the Board of Governors for Hogwarts? Did you know where he was, Mr. Zabini? Were you included in the process of hiding him away and consequently having him come back into the public view?" The small figure of energy was rattling off questions without allowing a breath between them, much less a chance for any to be answered. Not that Draco wanted to answer any of them anyway.
"Who the bloody hell are you?" Draco asked when the man finally decided to come up for air. His voice was a low growl as he looked down his nose, curling his lip in disgust. He curled his fingers as he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.
"Dennis Creevey, Daily Prophet and Witch Weekly!" A dainty hand was extended but when it was accepted with nothing but a glare, the reporter retreated it.
The black feather quill was racing across the small notepad pausing only to turn the page, regardless of Draco only muttering a single sentence. The reporter's bright blue eyes were wide with anticipation for an answer or quote he would be able to use, but the anticipation quickly turned to hesitation while he took in the look on Draco's face. He had no patience for this, nor did he want to be plastered across the papers, especially within his first day back. Instead of following through with the thought he had of hexing the man-child in front of him, he threw down some galleons by his empty glass and left up the stairs to the room he had rented. He heard Blaise muttering something before following Draco up to the third floor.
"Don't mind it. Bloke's always snooping around for the next big story. Thinks he'll become the best thing since Rita Skeeter."
"You and I remember that insect quite differently," Draco spat, reaching his door.
"You were about to tell me something…"
Nodding, Draco stepped into the room and held the door open for Blaise to enter before snapping it shut, locking it, and warding it against pesky reporters who might be listening in. Running his hands through his hair, he paced while Blaise lounged in the chair in front of the fireplace. On his third pass, his fingers flexing while trying to keep his magic in control, he finally looked up. Steeling himself, he took a deep breath.
"My mother was murdered."
Never had he said the words out loud, and after the declaration, the room was suspended in a state of deafening silence. Neither the creak of the floorboards, nor the clank of the pipes could break the heaviness of emotion that flooded into the room with those four words. Narcissa had been like a mother to both Blaise and Theo while they grew up. Theo's mother had been Narcissa's best friend since they were 11. When she died during Draco's second year at Hogwarts, his mother seemed to make it her mission to fill the void for Theo. Then, when she found out that Blaise's mother had shipped him off to live in a rented room in Hogsmeade while she traipsed around Japan, Narcissa once again stepped in and all but legally adopted Blaise into the family. The three of them were inseparable during their younger years, and only separated in their later years because of a maniac and beliefs that Draco renounced much later than he should have.
"I thought...they said suicide?" he sat forward with furrowed brows as he tilted his head, confusion stealing his calm demeanor.
"You knew my mother well; does suicide sound like something she would do?" Draco asked, knowing the answer. Narcissa was a prideful woman and the epitome of grace with one of the strongest wills he had ever known. Regardless of how lonely or upset she might have been at that time, taking her life was never an option, especially if Draco was still alive and well. Even if he was halfway across the world.
"No." He whispered, his face paling as clarity set in. "What are you going to do?"
"I need to get into the Ministry. DMLE to be precise, before I can do anything."
"I can try to get some information. I don't normally cast my net so close to home, but for you…"
Draco mentally cringed thinking about what kind of net Blaise might be trying to cast, then decided he didn't really want to know the details. "That would be helpful," He said, finally sitting down and throwing his legs over the side of the chair, lighting the fire in the process.
"You look like shite," Blaise commented, elbows still resting on his knees as he studied Draco, "Have you been sleeping? Eating?"
"Not much," he admitted rubbing his face before pulling his hands through his hair, an exhausted sigh filling the space between them. "I went to the Manor this morning."
"First time since…"
"Yeah."
Silence stretched between them again, coating the room with unease. Blaise leaned back into his chair, interlacing his fingers before letting them rest on his chest, both men lost in thought. Draco knew that if anyone was going to understand how difficult going back to that place would be, it would be Blaise or Theo. If he had not run into Blaise tonight, he would have sent for him within the week. Theo as well.
"I still have more. Would…" Draco began without knowing how to follow through with the question. Unsure if he'd be able to form the words.
"I'll meet you there tomorrow. Midmorning." Draco gave a curt nod while staring into the fire. Blaise stood after a few more moments of silence and made his way to the door, pausing only when his hand was on the handle. "People are here for you, you know."
Draco was left alone in the outdated room with nothing but his thoughts. He knew Blaise was right, but he still hadn't been able to figure out exactly who would be able to help him without causing a hindrance. Not to mention, there were very few people he would ever want to be anywhere near the Manor. Thinking about the events that transpired there since his sixth year at Hogwarts was enough to send ice racing down his spine. If he could prevent it, the Manor wouldn't even be a part of a conversation with certain people ever again. Walking to the trunk at the foot of the bed, he kicked it open before stripping off his soiled shirt and trousers. The Dark Mark had faded to a soft grey after Voldemort died. For years, Draco stuck to covering it with concealment charms or simply wearing long sleeves, but after his mother had been taken from him, he decided on a more permanent way of ridding himself of the offensive mark that still seemed to burn at times.
After Narcissa's funeral he had decided to go into Muggle New York and found a tattoo artist. After creating a beautiful piece with the help of the artist, he immediately had the Mark covered with inks of blacks and shades of grey. Unless you knew where to look specifically, the outline of the snake and skull were nearly invisible behind the field of Narcissus flowers. The only color of the tattoo was shown in the intense ice blue of the eyes of the fox sitting among the flowers that circled his forearm. A representation of his mother's Patronus.
Pulling his eyes away from the memorial, he found his way under the covers of the old four-poster that took up a majority of the room. The bed had lumps and the pillows smelled a mixture of contradicting scents as he tossed and turned to get as comfortable as possible. Staring up at the ceiling, he began mentally checking off items from his list of things he needed to do. Exhaustion taking hold quickly, he closed his eyes and drifted into a restless sleep filled with screams in the darkness and the cawing of a crow mixed with the maniacal laughter of his late Aunt. 1st
NEXT UPDATE: 23 August 2021