Celeste awoke the next morning with a feeling of immense dread, though in the early morning haze of her mind, she couldn't figure out what she was dreading. The next thought that entered her sleepy brain was why she was up so early. Was something wrong?
"You need to get up, Celeste. You leave today," came the soft voice of Cindy Kormic. Celeste still didn't know why she was up so early, and why she was somehow dreading the day that was set before her.
"Leaving?" croaked Celeste. "Leaving to go..." she started, but then the memories of the last couple of months came cascading to her like a sudden rush of cold water. Her eyes nearly bulged out of her head, and she flung off the covers.
"I remember now. Thanks for waking me up," Celeste yawned, rubbing her eyes. Cindy nodded and turned to leave so Celeste could get dressed. Was she seeing things, or did Celeste see Cindy's lip tremble?
"God, no," Celeste groaned, rising out of bed and plucking a copper robe off of the floor. "It's enough that I have to leave, but it's worse if they miss me."
It was odd, the feeling that she was being missed severely. It was kind of a nice feeling, in a sick way. It was nice to know that she was wanted, but it was terrible to think that she would make people suffer by leaving. It made her head ache, so Celeste pushed the thought out of her head.
Walking up to the small mirror that was hammered onto the pink wall, Celeste undid her hair. Sometimes she hated being so fair-skinned and light all around, but she did like her hair. It was long and thick, and almost reached the tips of her fingers. She had always liked her hair short, but since she had a sibling that nearly looked identical to her, she thought it best to keep her hair long so that she wouldn't be mistaken for Draco from behind.
Sighing, she wound her hair into a long braid, and tied it into a knot at the end. Walking over to her nightstand, she picked up her chipped crystal wand. Grinning, she walked back over to the mirror and struck a dramatic pose. Celeste loved the way she looked in full mage garb.
Walking back over to the other side of the room once more, she kicked lightly at her dragons until they arose from sleep.
"Get up, you two. It's time to go. You can sleep later. Time for breakfast," she cajoled them. At the mention of food, the Sunsmear and Nightshade drug themselves off of the ground and slowly plodded down the stairs.
When the dragons were gone, Celeste went about the room and threw all of her clothing and other belongings into a shoulderbag. Drawing the drawstring, she went downstairs to have her last meal with the Kormics.
# # #
Breakfast was silent, save for the noisy lapping of Sunsmear and Nightshade at their oatmeal. Feeling uneasy, Celeste ran her spoon around the sides of the bowl slowly, collecting a small bit of oatmeal.
Nobody was eating much. Celeste felt that she had a thousand birds fluttering against the lining of her stomach, and she couldn't bring herself to swallow. Sighing slowly, she dumped the rest of her oatmeal between Sunsmear and Nightshade, where they licked it up greedily.
"Celeste, dear, you should eat," Cindy said, putting down her spoon. Celeste gave her an incredulous look, because Cindy hadn't so much as touched her breakfast.
"I'm not too hungry, anyway. Don't worry about me," Celeste assured her, though she wasn't too sure that she was really okay. Maybe it would have been best if she had refused to go back with Draco at all.
Martin wiped his hands off on his napkin. "Have you packed?" he asked, as unemotionally as humanly possible. Celeste was a little hurt, but said nothing on the subject.
"Yeah. I packed this morning. I think that I'm ready to go," she replied. "When do I leave?"
Cindy pushed herself away from the table. "Didn't you say that you wanted to be at the Malfoy's by nine? It's eight-thirty right now. You should probably go," she said scratchily.
Celeste rose from the table, and looked at its three other occupants, who stared balefully back at her, sadly. Glancing towards her dragons, she saw that they had finished eating and were looking at her placidly, waiting for her next order. Celeste swallowed, not sure of what to say.
"Th-thank you," she whispered, before bolting out of the room. It wasn't exactly a stunning exit, nor a grateful one, but Celeste hated emotional good-byes. They made her uncomfortable.
Grabbing her staff, which had been leaning against the doorframe, she sprinted outside into the early morning fog, and waited for her dragons to catch up with her. Before they could, there was a slight nudge on her shoulder.
--Ready?-- asked the gentle hum of Inca's voice. Celeste watched as Nightshade and Sunsmear scampered to catch up with her. She nodded.
--Yes,-- Celeste agreed.
The ride to the Malfoy residence, while a quiet one, was a rather short one. Celeste had no idea how Inca knew where she was going, but she decided not to ponder over it too much. Shifting her pack on her back and gripping her staff a little tighter, she sighed as Inca led on through the billowing cloud of early morning fog that swirled about them like a poufy dress of some sort.
A half-hour later, Inca stopped in front of some sort of tall wall. It was slate-gray, and about thirty-five feet high. Reaching out to touch it, Celeste found that it was predictably, smooth and cool.
--This is as far as I can take you. Have a fun summer,-- Inca said while looking at the foreboding gray walls.
Celeste grimaced. --I'm sure it'll be thrilling, -- she replied dryly. Inca gave something of an amused snort before disappearing in the cloud of fog.
"Well, c'mon," Celeste beckoned to her dragons as she started around the perimeter of the huge wall.
As they pushed their way through the thick white cloud cover, Celeste sighed. Just going here was bad enough, but the drab fog and dark gray sky weren't helping her mood that much. When they had been walking for about five minutes, Celeste and company finally came to a break in the barrier.
It was a large, double-door, wrought-iron gate. The iron had been twisted and melded into slithering snakes, intricate vines of ivy, and straight bars to block out anyone bold enough to intrude. In a small circle in the middle of the gate was a letter 'M' that had been welded in fancy script.
Beyond the gate, was a sight that shocked Celeste to the point that she almost fell over. A path that was wide enough to fit four muggle cars wound up to the front stoop of a sprawling mansion. Celeste remembered seeing Buckingham Palace in a history book somewhere. This place had to be at least twice that size, if not more. Malfoy Manor, however, didn't look exactly warm and welcoming. The manor was a dismal gray color, almost the same shade of the large wall in front of it. The appearance gave Celeste the impression that it had been built entirely out of dirty gray ice.
A voice interrupted Celeste's trance. "Please state your name and purpose, Ma'am," the polite but firm voice commanded.
Celeste looked around frantically for the source of the voice. Sunsmear pulled on her robe and pointed to a small speaker that had been etched into the wall. She assumed that this was it.
"Never mind the name. Just tell Mr. Malfoy that someone important is here to see him," Celeste said back into the speaker.
There was some rustling of movement, and a rumble of inaudible voices before the voice came back to the speaker again.
"I apologize, Ma'am. We do not accept solicitors-" it began, but Celeste cut it off.
"I'm not selling anything!"
There was another pause and more inaudible voices before the speaker spoke again.
"We don't donate to any funds or charities-" the voice began again. Celeste sighed.
"I'm not from a charity! Oh, good God. Just let me have a word with Draco Malfoy, would you?" she asked.
There was more creaking and static before a very befuddled Draco Malfoy spoke into the speaker.
"Hello?" he asked confusedly.
"Hi. Can you get your dunderhead speaker-speaker to let me in?" snarled Celeste.
There was silence on the other end of the speaker for a couple of minutes.
"Celeste?" asked Draco, in a surprised tone of voice.
"No, it's not Celeste. It's Harry Potter, coming for a friendly visit. Who do you think it is?" Celeste screamed into the speaker.
"All right! I'll let you in! Don't kill me, Celeste. Why didn't you ask for me in the first place?" Draco asked.
Celeste didn't answer as the iron gates squeaked open on rusty hinges. Stepping in, she looked behind her to make sure that Nightshade and Sunsmear were still there, and walked down the path.
It may have just been the dismal gray light that was everywhere, but it didn't seem that Malfoy Manor had that much color to it at all. There were no kinds of flowers, nor bushes, the grass had been cropped close to the earth, and the trees looked half-dead.
Celeste walked up to the stoop, and stood in front of the gigantic French doors that loomed over her like sentry guards. She reached up to knock, but as her knuckles touched the wood, the door pushed open slightly.
Quietly walking in, Celeste beckoned to her dragons and shut the heavy door behind her.
# # #
The entire summer had gone quite predictably, to Lucius Malfoy's standards. His son was home from Hogwarts, his wife was almost always out at some social event, and nothing out of the ordinary had happened for two whole months of summer vacation. Two more months to go until his son left again and the manor would settle back into its normal tempore.
That was, until the fateful day of July fourteenth, which would throw a metaphorical monkey wrench into Mr. Malfoy's perfectly normal summer.
He had been eating breakfast, when one of the butlers, a tall, lean man named Wilson, came into the dining room.
"Sir," he said in his annoyingly nasal voice, "someone requests an audience with you."
Mr. Malfoy had been momentarily stunned. Surely it wasn't the Ministry of Magic again, as their last raid on the manor (which had proved yet again a failure), had only been last month.
"Pray tell, who is it?" he had asked, wiping his mouth on a napkin. Wilson had shook his head.
"They said to never mind the name, Sir. She said that it was someone important, though," Wilson explained.
Mr. Malfoy drummed his fingers on the tabletop. It wasn't the Ministry, then. They always identified themselves with some sort of mock-regal speech. He thought it rather funny when Cornilius Fudge tried to use authority.
"She? Well, she must be selling something. Tell her that we don't accept solicitors," he had ordered. Wilson nodded and went to do Mr. Malfoy's bidding.
Mr. Malfoy had just returned to his breakfast when Wilson came back. "She says she isn't selling anything, Sir," Wilson meekly explained.
Mr. Malfoy looked at his wife. "You don't have any calls for tea, do you, Abigail?" he asked her. Abigail looked at her husband and shook her head.
"No, Lucius, I have not. I would have told you otherwise," she explained. Mr. Malfoy then turned to his son.
"You didn't call anyone over, Draco, did you?" he asked.
Draco, who was having a momentary brain lapse at the moment, shook his head in a similar manner to his mother's. He had forgotten that this was the fourteenth and Celeste was supposed to be coming over.
"No, Father," he explained simply. This made Mr. Malfoy all the more irate at being disturbed from his meal.
"I don't give to charities unless required. Tell her that," he snapped. Wilson flinched, and then hurriedly scampered out of the room.
Yet again, Wilson returned to the dining room less than two minutes later, trembling slightly.
"She claims that she's not from a charity, Sir. But, she does want a word with your son," he explained, nodding to Draco.
Mr. Malfoy was now terribly confused. First this person wanted to speak to him, and now she wanted his son. Who was this early-morning caller, anyhow? He shot a glance at Draco, who was sitting obediently, waiting for his father's say so. Mr. Malfoy waved a hand at his son.
"Go on," was all he said. Draco shot out of his seat faster than a rocket, and followed Wilson to the room where the speaker was.
No matter how hard Mr. Malfoy tried, he could not hear a word of what his son was saying over the speaker in the other room, so he gave that up and went back to eating his breakfast, which was now getting cold.
Five minutes later, Draco came back in the room, and sat back down in his chair. Mr. Malfoy put down his fork and folded his hands on the table expectantly, but Draco ignored him. After a few moments, it became evident that Draco wasn't going to tell his father anything about the visitor, or at least, not without a little prompting.
Mr. Malfoy cleared his throat loudly, and Draco looked up at him.
"Yes, Father?"
"Well?"
"Well what?"
"Don't play ignorant with me, Draco. I don't like it, and you know it."
"You mean the caller?"
"You know very well what I mean."
"She requested to speak with you. I told her that you weren't exactly available right now and she said that she would try again another time," Draco said, fiddling with his fork nervously and refusing to look his father in the eyes.
Mr. Malfoy had his eyes narrowed to aggravated slits and was drumming a finger on the table loudly, making it sound like a metronome.
"A very interesting tale, Draco. I must request you tell it again, though. The truth, please, this time around."
Draco's eyes took on sheen of desperate fear, and he started darting his eyes around the room wildly, as if he would find an excuse etched somewhere in the walls of the dining room. Mr. Malfoy now knew for a fact that something was up. What was so important about this girl, anyhow? And why was his son so afraid of telling the truth?
# # #
As soon as Celeste walked through the front door of the manor, it was like a gigantic black monster was swallowing her up. It was so dark and dismal, even more drab than the fog outside. The air was hot and heavy, and she could feel her heart pounding in her throat.
Get out of here, while you still can, her brain screamed at her. Get out, get out, get out before it's too late. Turning around, Celeste put her forehead on the cool door, and felt the handle dig into her stomach.
Nightshade and Sunsmear, detecting something wrong with their adopted mother, whimpered and butted their heads up against Celeste's legs. Celeste reached down timidly, and felt her fingernails scrape the top of her dragons' heads.
Finally getting the courage to turn around, Celeste studied her surroundings carefully. The inside seemed even bigger than the outside, if that was humanly possible. She was in a large foyer that was about three times the size of the Kormic's entire house. Then there were passages that snaked off in every direction possible, with marble floors and hunter green rugs with gold tassels. Celeste was stunned. All the while when she was living in the street, and being tossed around in several different muggle orphanages, this had been here?
"Can I help you, Ma'am?" came a voice from behind her. Celeste nearly jumped out of her skin, and whirled around.
It was a woman, which held a large feather duster in one hand, and an expensive looking vase in the other. She had gray hair that had been done up in a ponytail, and very dark eyes. She looked Celeste over, and then eyed the two dragons warily.
"Yes, in fact. I'm looking for Mr. Malfoy, Mrs. Malfoy and er, Draco Malfoy. You wouldn't happen to know where they might be?"
The maid looked behind Celeste, at a grandfather clock. It read nine o'clock, and as if on cue, the clock started to bong out the time.
Bong.... Bong.... Bong... Bong... Bong... Bong... Bong... Bong... Bong..
The maid looked back at Celeste and grinned.
"That would mean that it's nine, dear. The Malfoys eat until about nine. You'll catch them all in the dining room, if you're lucky."
Feeling suddenly overwhelmed by the number of corridors and doors that were in front of her, Celeste swallowed.
"Capital. Now, if only I knew where the dining room is," Celeste croaked, feeling sort of sickened.
The maid cast a glance at the two dragons that were sitting behind Celeste. "Are those dragons?" she asked.
Celeste didn't answer at first. Then, as if the question had just made it to her brain, she replied. "Hmm? Wha? Oh, you mean Sunsmear and Nightshade? Yeah, they're dragons. Arabian Sandwedgers, to be exact."
The maid dropped her jaw in shock and bewilderment for a moment. Then she regained her composure.
"They're housebroken, right?" she asked.
"What?! Of course they are. What kind of a question is that?"
"Just a wary one, Miss. I don't want to be cleaning up after them if they aren't. Come along, then, I'll show you to the dining room."
# # #
"Ummm..... err, she said that, err..." Draco babbled on, just trying to buy time. Where in the name of God was Celeste, and what was taking her so blasted long?
Mr. Malfoy was not in the least amused by his son's resistance to him. A couple of seconds more, Mr. Malfoy thought as his anger increased, I'm going to explode.
Draco cringed as his father stood up suddenly, knocking his chair over. A few quick strides and he was looming over his son menacingly.
"It isn't that hard of a question. Don't make it more difficult than it has to be, Draco Lazarus," he rasped warningly.
God, I hate it when they use my middle name, his brain thought in defeat. It was true. In nearly every household, when a parent uses a child's middle name, it means that the child is normally in for a tongue lashing at the very least. The Malfoy's manor was no exception.
Draco was about to give up and answer truthfully, but perhaps today was his lucky day, since a servant appeared in the threshold of the door.
"Mr. Malfoy, a young lady is here to see you," the servant said boldly.
Mr. Malfoy totally forgot about his son and quickly whirled around. A warm flush of relief passed over Draco's features now that his father was otherwise occupied.
"Who is it, Ampala?" Draco's father demanded. Ampala shrugged.
"I don't know. She didn't tell me her name. Shall I bring her in?" Ampala asked.
"Yes," Mr. Malfoy ordered.
"Dearie, you can see him now," Ampala called to someone that was behind the doorframe.
The first thing that entered by Ampala was a dragon. A bright purple one, with eyes greener than emeralds, and claws shiner than brightly polished spoons. It looked at Mr. Malfoy curiously and then at Draco. It pointed and snorted at Draco, obviously pleased to see someone it knew. It simpered up to him, and butted up against his leg. Draco gingerly touched the top of its head.
"Hello, Nightshade," he said carefully, trying not to set it off. Nightshade gave him a toothy grin before climbing up on the table to eat the remnants of Draco's breakfast.
"Draco, do you know that... that thing?" Mr. Malfoy asked, pointing to Nightshade, who was now lapping up a pitcher of milk.
Before Draco could answer his father, another dragon entered. This one was a blazing orange, with deep crimson eyes. It flexed its claws before snapping at Mr. Malfoy, and bounding around the carpet, trying to get up on the table. Mrs. Malfoy screamed.
"Get these things off of my table!" she wailed to nobody in particular.
"Quiet, Abigail!" Mr. Malfoy snapped back at his wife. He turned to Draco. "Do you know that one too?"
"Sunsmear," Draco mumbled into his robes.
"Do you know their owner?" he asked his son pensively, trying to remain patient.
The only response that Mr. Malfoy got from this was his son looking at him innocently. Finally, Draco turned to the doorframe and nodded slightly towards it.
There was nothing there. For a moment, Mr. Malfoy wondered if this was all just some big joke. Then, there was the unmistakable sound of a single footstep clattering outside of the door. A black boot was all that was visible at first, but then the figure slowly slid into view.
It was an odd picture. The person was wearing a long, flowing robe in a copper shade, which attached in the middle, and had large, regal-looking sleeves. In the right hand of the person was a long wooden shaft with a cracked crystal on the end. In the left hand was a small bag, undoubtedly filled to the gills with clothing.
Then Mr. Malfoy saw the complexion and features of the person. It had long, silver-blond hair that was wound into a tight braid. Ice-blue eyes blinked in a pointed, pale face that stared back at him balefully.
Mr. Malfoy needed no introductions. Nor did Mrs. Malfoy. They both knew whom they were staring at, they knew very well. Of course, they had not seen this person for a good fifteen years, but they still knew.
Meanwhile, Celeste's brain was running rampant in her skull. Just what, exactly, did you call the people who gave you life, and then abandoned you for some reason or another? Mother? Father? Mum and Dad? Jackasses? What?
The only sound in the room was the pair of dragons eating. Mr. Malfoy had a look of pure surprise and a hint of fear frozen on his features. Mrs. Malfoy had gone deathly pale, and had a hand on her heaving chest. Celeste was still and silent as a statue. Draco, however, was waiting breathless for the rest of the drama to unfold.
Seconds ticked into minutes, and the minutes fell into nearly a half hour before anybody moved, or spoke. Even the servants, especially the ones that were close enough for a good view, watched with silent interest.
Celeste shifted in her spot, and met Mr. Malfoy square in the eyes.
"I'm back."
# # #
It had taken a great deal of research, but Craggle and Snare had finally been able to pinpoint the place where Celeste was spending the summer.
"Sssshe'ss ssstaying at the Kormic ressssidence," Snare mused while pointing at a house on a magical map.
Craggle nodded. "Sssshould we try for a ambusssh at her houssse? It might be easssiessst."
"Who said anything about this being easy?!" Synthia snapped from behind them. Snare and Craggle nearly jumped out of their reptilian skins when she said that.
"Ssssynthia, you ssscared usss," Craggle said while clutching his throat. Synthia scoffed.
"Get used to it. Actually, though, you might have hit on something there. She's probably not expecting us to strike so soon after the first failure. All right, you have my permission, you mangy reptiles. Go!" she commaded.
The reptiles disappeared.
# # #
The problem with that plan, however, was that Celeste wasn't exactly at the Kormic residence anymore. Luckily for Craggle and Snare, (or perhaps, lucky for the Kormics), the Kormics had gone out for the rest of the day after Celeste left. As much as they wanted to say otherwise, the three of them had become very fond of the light-skinned, blue-eyed girl, and missed her presence sorely. They decided that a nice trip to the city was in order.
The pair of reptiles broke into the home quite easily, but was dismayed to find nobody was in the house. They tore apart the house, upturning tables, tearing apart doors, and shredding curtains for people that might have been hiding.
Finally, they gave up.
"You know, Sssssnare, I don't think that sssshe's here," Craggle said, trying to twist the top off of a jar of pickles.
Snare sighed and took the pickles from his partner. Inserting his sharp claws, he neatly cut the top off of the jar, and handed it back to Craggle.
"I don't know what we're going to tell Ssssynthia," he said disdainfully.
Craggle had taken the entire jar and dumped its contents, pickle juice included, down into his mouth, and was now chewing noisily.
"You worry too much," was all he said as he gnashed the pickles in his mouth, spraying juice all over the place.
Snare just sighed again and reached over the table for a box of cereal. Tearing the box into halves, he started shoving cereal down his throat.
"Maybe you're right," he said, smacking his scaly lips loudly.
# # #
Mr. Malfoy wasn't sure whether he needed a tranquilizer, or a death curse. All he wanted to do was to crawl into a hole and stay here. Or perhaps make this girl leave. Maybe he could appearate to some far off island in the Caribbean and live out the rest of his days there. Whatever it was, he wished that he were far from here.
"Celeste, right?" he asked faintly. Celeste nodded.
"Right... you're Lucius Malfoy, aren't you?"
Mr. Malfoy nodded, looking at Draco. "Do you know her?" he asked.
"Yes, Father. I met her at the beginning of last school year," he answered smartly.
"She attends Hogwarts?! But... but... She's a Squib... Isn't she?" Mr. Malfoy protested. Celeste nodded.
"In technical terms, yes. But I have animal magic, better known as Wild magic, I suppose. That's why I attend," Celeste said softly.
There was more silence, until Mrs. Malfoy spoke.
"Are you to be staying with us the rest of the summer?" she asked.
"Yes," Celeste replied.
"Ampala?" asked Mr. Malfoy, who was still staring at Celeste. "Take her to one of the spare rooms," he ordered.
Ampala bowed slightly and nodded to Celeste.
"Come with me," she instructed Celeste. Celeste followed her out, and the dragons followed after Celeste.
Mr. Malfoy looked from his wife to Draco, and swallowed.
"Is this a curse or a blessing?" he asked.
Draco couldn't tell if this was a rhetorical question or not, but he thought it best not to answer.
# # #
Three weeks after Celeste had come to the Malfoy residence, Draco thought that he had a decent answer to the question his father had proposed earlier. Celeste coming back 'home' was more of a curse than anything. The deep boom and crack of Lucius Malfoy's upraised voice could usually be heard in some area of the manor, which was responded by Celeste's shrilly high-pitched reply. Those two, Draco often thought, just cannot get along on anything! Though it is to be expected, since she was upbrought by muggles...
According to Lucius and Abigail Malfoy, their daughter was a total slob. She had atrocious table manners (she kept on mixing up her salad and fish forks up, and didn't sit up straight enough), she was far too outspoken, disagreed with everything that they said, and wasn't very polite in the first place. If you got them started on Sunsmear and Nightshade, they could go on forever about how ungainly and loud they were.
Celeste's opinion on her father and mother wasn't much better. They seemed to have nothing better to do than nag at her and her dragons, for some stupid reason. Who really cared what fork you used at the table, as long as you were using a fork? Why were there so many blasted forks to eat with, anyhow? You only needed one. Celeste was a very outspoken person, and she hated the silly rule that 'children should be seen and not heard at all times'. That was one of the rules that she frequently broke.
And the rules! There were so many for high-class society! Every little thing that Celeste did had a rule. It seemed that when she turned her back on something for one minute, she was breaking some ludicrous rule that made no sense at all, or at least to Celeste they didn't. 'Don't do this', and 'Don't do that'. It was driving her insane!
Poor Draco was stuck in the middle of all of this. As much as he liked his sister, he was beginning to regret when he invited Celeste to the manor. It was like trying to mix oil with water when he tried to get them to stop yelling. Moreover, it was giving him a splitting headache, just living in the same house with Mr. Malfoy and Celeste.
Once, he had gotten up the nerve to take a peek at one of Celeste and Mr. Malfoy's heated arguments. When he cracked open the door for a look, he nearly fell over.
The resemblance between the two when they were angry was uncanny. They both had pink tinges at the apples of their cheeks, both were in the same battle stance; feet planted firmly on the ground with one fist clenching and unclenching angrily, as if they were going to start a brawl right in the parlor. They both were fighting to impale each other on frosty glares, Celeste's an icy-blue, and Mr. Malfoy's a frigid, sleety gray.
She is so Father's child. Can she see it? Does Father see it? Does Mother? I do, he thought to himself amusedly.
"I'LL WEAR WHATEVER I WANT TO WEAR!!" Celeste screamed. It was at this moment that, Draco noted with disgust, she was wearing muggle clothes. His father wasn't going to like that.
"I WILL NOT TOLORATE THAT KIND OF CLOTHING IN MY HOUSE, CELESTE...." Mr. Malfoy trailed off. Draco barely stifled a giggle. It was obvious that his father was trying to use Celeste's middle name, but he didn't know it.
"WHO DIED AND MADE YOU KING?!" shouted Celeste right back in his face. Draco nearly smacked himself. If that were him in Celeste's shoes, he probably would have died of fright on the spot. Mr. Malfoy could be very frightening when he was angry, even adults quaked under his menacing stare. But Celeste seemed unfazed.
"NOBODY HAS TO DIE TO MAKE ME KING OF MY HOUSE!" Mr. Malfoy thundered in response to this saucy remark. In reality, though, he was quite taken aback. He couldn't believe the disrespect that he was witnessing from his own daughter, even if she had been gone for nearly fifteen years.
"PARDON ME!" Celeste screamed in an overly sugary tone. "KING LUCIUS!!" she finished, throwing herself to her knees and bowing over so low that her forehead touched the ground. "I SEEM TO HAVE FORGOTTEN!"
Mr. Malfoy said nothing in reply to this. From his doorway perch, Draco had to shove his fist in his mouth to keep from cracking up. It was quite obvious that his father was somewhere between deciding to kick Celeste in the head or keep on screaming at her. The anger on his face was replaced with one of wondering bewilderment as he stared at the kneeling girl in front of him. Finally, Mr. Malfoy whirled on his heel and stalked out of the room, muttering to himself.
When the other exit to the parlor was slammed shut, Celeste got up off of the ground, grinning slightly. She had won that round. But, she thought to herself sadly, there's going to be a lot more battles before the war is over.
She noted that Draco was standing in the doorframe, and nodded to him. "I don't know how you do it," she remarked stiffly to her brother. Draco raised an eyebrow.
"What do you mean? Do what?" he asked. Celeste jerked her head towards the door that Mr. Malfoy had just exited out of.
"Live here. With them. I can't stand it, and I've only been here for about a month," she croaked, as her throat was starting to get very sore from all of the yelling that she had been doing lately.
Draco was hurt. "They're my parents, and yours too, Celeste! Don't you think you're being a little, well, rash?"
Celeste raised her eyebrows. "Excuse me?" she asked, with a dangerous clip to her voice. Draco ignored the sour touch.
"You haven't even really tried to get along with them. All you do is argue. You know as well as I do that Father isn't going to give in," he finished sensibly.
"Oh! I see!" Celeste snapped tartly. "So I'm supposed to conform to what that...that man you call 'Father' thinks is a perfect daughter, am I?"
Draco, seeing that he had unwisely prodded a sore spot, shook his head. "No, that's not what I mean at all!" he cried, raising his voice.
"Then what DO you mean, Draco Lazarus Malfoy? Be a little CLEARER for you dear old sister, why don't you!? She hasn't memorized the Malfoy commandments yet!" boomed Celeste.
Draco winced. It's bad enough when they use your middle name, but your whole name......!
Celeste took that stumble of words and moment of silence to finish her spurt of anger. "I'VE HAD IT UP TO HERE WITH THIS ENTIRE FAMILY!!" she screamed, whirling around on her heel in a similar manner to her father's, and left the room.
Draco didn't follow after her. Celeste had obviously inherited Mr. Malfoy's terrible temper, and he didn't dare risk the wrath of more of it.
# # #
Meanwhile, in another part of the world, a girl about Celeste's age was pouring her wrath out on another group of people, but for a very different reason.
"WHAT DO YOU MEAN SHE WASN'T THERE?" asked Synthia angrily. Craggle and Snare winced before answering.
"Sssshe wasssn't! I don't know where ssshe'ss at, Missstresss!" Craggle whimpered. Snare nodded.
"We didn't ssscrew anything up this time!! Honestly!" Snare pleaded pitifully. "Ssshe jusst wasssn't there!"
Synthia looked at the two cowering creatures in front of her, and sighed, scratching the back of her head. It was a fun sport, but yelling at Craggle and Snare wasn't going to get her very far. Shaking her head, she removed her hand and looked at the two reptiles.
"Find her," Synthia hissed in a dangerous voice. "I don't care what you have to do, but find her!" she cried.
Snare and Craggle nodded hastily, and bolted out of Synthia's sight.
# # #
The next morning, Celeste awoke with a splitting headache, and rolled around in her soft bed, trying to go back to sleep. She was dreading the day that was set before her, and was not willing to fight the battles with Mr. Malfoy that she was going to have to fight. It was worse than yanking snarls out of her hair in the morning, or pulling teeth.
Finally, she got up and eased out of bed, careful not to disturb her dragons and pulled on some clothes - some muggle clothes, and grabbed her staff. Her father was going to have a fit, but she wasn't going to give her father the honor of seeing her face today.
Being cautious to avoid the servants and not to awaken the rest of the family, Celeste wormed her way out of Malfoy Manor.
As soon as she shut the door behind her and carefully relocked it, she felt the first rays of the sun meet her face. Celeste sighed. How much she had missed that sunlight while being confined in the darkness of Malfoy Manor.
It wasn't much of a sunrise yet, a few streaks of red ran through the sky, breaking up the dark night, and the stars were staring to retreat into the safety of the night, which was fading fast.
Picking up her pace to a trot, she started away from the manor - towards the sun, enjoying it's warm presence on her face. She was only going to be gone for a day or so, it wasn't going to be forever. Of course, Mr. Malfoy (she sure as sure wasn't going to call him 'Father', much less 'Dad'), would be irate, but Celeste couldn't have cared less. She needed a break, and she was going to get it, hell or high water.
As the manor disappeared behind her, strange thoughts entered her head, unanswerable questions that bothered her to no extent.
Celeste Malfoy, you ungrateful girl. You wanted your real family and a real home all of your life, and you got it. Now you're running away. Didn't you want to be home? she thought to herself.
But, is this really home?
# # #
Ev'ry day's an endless stream
Of cigarettes and magazines.
And each town looks the same to me, the movies and the factories
And ev'ry strangers face I see reminds me that I long to be,
Homeward Bound,
I wish I was,
Homeward Bound,
Home, where my thought's escaping,
Home, where my music's playing,
Home, where my love lies waiting,
Silently for me...
Writers notes: That was, well, interesting. Do you like so far? I hope. I also hope that this story isn't too much longer, for I'm running out of stanzas for this song. Oh well. I'll figure out something later. Happy reading and such!
Disclaimer: Dear God, I really hate disclaimers. I wonder what would happen if I claimed to own Harry Potter. Would they really sue? Probably. I don't really want to find out. Ah, well, everything in the Harry Potter books is not mine, and everything that isn't, is.