Disclaimer: Most characters, ideas, worlds, and places are copyright J.K.
Rowling. Original plot, characters, and places are mine. If I have
inflicted upon any copyrights, please notify me. Thank you.
Chapter 6: The Malfoy Residence
I could feel a cold breeze approach my body. I pulled my coat over my shoulders, and grasping my book bag in my tiny hands, I walked on through the rain. Before me was a large mansion, right out of a story book. I couldn't believe what kind of money had to be obtained to live in a house like that, but knowing the Malfoys, it hadn't been hard work that got them there. With no umbrella, I walked on in the rain, carrying my bag over my head. I knew its leather exterior would wear out someday, but I was hoping that day wouldn't come in the near future. It had been a gift from Harry when I pulled through on P.W.M.W.
A large twisting staircase led to the huge front door. Bushes and blossom trees secluded it. I walked a couple steps and bent over to spell them. They smelled as fresh as a spring day, even though it was January. I continued on until I had reached the front door. I grabbed the doorknocker, which was three times as large as my hand, and banged it against the marble entry. It wasn't long before I heard some hustling behind the door, and a creak as it opened.
It hadn't been four years since I saw Draco Malfoy, and when his head jerked out of the doorway to see who it was, I almost fainted. His hair was a bright blonde, with bangs that hung over his eyes, and a short cut in the back. His light blue eyes were sparkling in the dim light. I smiled, and gave him a wave, almost knocking him back into the hallway.
"Pa—Parvati Potter?" he asked astonished.
"Malfoy…" I replied, smirking. "So nice to see you too."
"And what may I ask, are you doing here?" he said, still quite surprised. "Upon my doorstep?"
"Don't act so astounded, didn't you hear I have this huge crush on you?" I mocked.
"Now, that's the Potter I know," he said, chuckling. He opened the door wide and motioned me out of the rain.
The house was even better inside. I could barely stand walking in it, for I was afraid I'd get footprints on the carpet. Marble staircases sprouted everywhere, and portraits hung on all the walls. He led me into a small room, with a fireplace that had died out, with red coals lying at the bottom. He sat down on a couch and pointed across him to another seat. I sat down and drained my bag of its water.
"Right all over my carpet…" he said, laughing, "what am I to do with you?"
"You –could- answer these questions," I remarked, pulling out my notepad.
"You're still in that wizard protection crap?" he asked.
"Why yes, I am. I'm the one who started it, remember?"
"Oh, I remember just fine Ms. Potter," he exclaimed.
"Now, can we get on we these questions? Good. How the hell do you know Jean Mitchell?"
He cackled, and I raised a brow.
"Oh, friend of the family. Well, not -my- family, my father's. Actually, I don't remember Jean herself being too chummy with the bunch of us, it was more of her husband," he said, scratching his head.
"Her husband?" I asked shockingly. "Is Jean a witch?"
"Hah. Of course, who isn't?" he replied.
Thinking for a moment, I knew she had lied… but then why did she divorce him?
"And how did the Mitchells coincide with your family?"
"Oh, I suppose it's alright to tell you this since he's dead…" he said, his hand on his chin.
"You heard?" I asked. He nodded and went on.
"Well, you know the bit about my father being a death eater, who doesn't? Well, let's just say Mitchell was in the same like of business. They were old pals, partner slaves for the Dark Lord. Can't see why, Mitchell was pretty nice to me, and my father was just the opposite."
Somehow, none of this had made sense to me. Mitchell was a –death eater-?
"…and that's how Jean came to divorcing him," Draco went on. "She hates the Dark Lord. Everyone does. She just went over the line, much like my mother, and left. Rob was very angry at that."
"Ah," I said, realizing the truth. Rob had been a death eater, and Jean had divorced him for that reason. The neighbor was just a muggle that Rob had liked, and it was just like any other case. Nothing strange had happened, nothing horrible. Just one death, and he was a servant for the Voldemort too, so it isn't as if we've lost someone everyone loved… like Harry.
"Something wrong?" he asked, seeing the hurt in my eyes.
"Nothing…" I said, washing away the pain and going back to work. "So, do you know anything else about it?"
"Nope. I don't think so…" he said, grabbing a cup of tea and gulping it down. "Want some?"
"No thanks," I said, staring into his eyes. He sure had changed. "Case closed. I hope…"
He chuckled. "Let's hope. Now, if there isn't anything else you need, you should really be on your way."
"That's the Malfoy I know," I said, mocking his earlier statement.
On the way out, he handed me an umbrella and gave me a kiss on the forehead.
"Get some rest," he whispered, and then he was gone. I walked down the stairs and was off.
I pushed close my filing cabinet. No more would come out of that case. I had solved it, even if I was a bit late, and even if I wasn't satisfied with the conclusion that he just had plain insane neighbors that went on rampages every time they suspected someone of witchcraft. I lay down on my bed, tired from the day, and fell into a quite peaceful sleep.
Chapter 6: The Malfoy Residence
I could feel a cold breeze approach my body. I pulled my coat over my shoulders, and grasping my book bag in my tiny hands, I walked on through the rain. Before me was a large mansion, right out of a story book. I couldn't believe what kind of money had to be obtained to live in a house like that, but knowing the Malfoys, it hadn't been hard work that got them there. With no umbrella, I walked on in the rain, carrying my bag over my head. I knew its leather exterior would wear out someday, but I was hoping that day wouldn't come in the near future. It had been a gift from Harry when I pulled through on P.W.M.W.
A large twisting staircase led to the huge front door. Bushes and blossom trees secluded it. I walked a couple steps and bent over to spell them. They smelled as fresh as a spring day, even though it was January. I continued on until I had reached the front door. I grabbed the doorknocker, which was three times as large as my hand, and banged it against the marble entry. It wasn't long before I heard some hustling behind the door, and a creak as it opened.
It hadn't been four years since I saw Draco Malfoy, and when his head jerked out of the doorway to see who it was, I almost fainted. His hair was a bright blonde, with bangs that hung over his eyes, and a short cut in the back. His light blue eyes were sparkling in the dim light. I smiled, and gave him a wave, almost knocking him back into the hallway.
"Pa—Parvati Potter?" he asked astonished.
"Malfoy…" I replied, smirking. "So nice to see you too."
"And what may I ask, are you doing here?" he said, still quite surprised. "Upon my doorstep?"
"Don't act so astounded, didn't you hear I have this huge crush on you?" I mocked.
"Now, that's the Potter I know," he said, chuckling. He opened the door wide and motioned me out of the rain.
The house was even better inside. I could barely stand walking in it, for I was afraid I'd get footprints on the carpet. Marble staircases sprouted everywhere, and portraits hung on all the walls. He led me into a small room, with a fireplace that had died out, with red coals lying at the bottom. He sat down on a couch and pointed across him to another seat. I sat down and drained my bag of its water.
"Right all over my carpet…" he said, laughing, "what am I to do with you?"
"You –could- answer these questions," I remarked, pulling out my notepad.
"You're still in that wizard protection crap?" he asked.
"Why yes, I am. I'm the one who started it, remember?"
"Oh, I remember just fine Ms. Potter," he exclaimed.
"Now, can we get on we these questions? Good. How the hell do you know Jean Mitchell?"
He cackled, and I raised a brow.
"Oh, friend of the family. Well, not -my- family, my father's. Actually, I don't remember Jean herself being too chummy with the bunch of us, it was more of her husband," he said, scratching his head.
"Her husband?" I asked shockingly. "Is Jean a witch?"
"Hah. Of course, who isn't?" he replied.
Thinking for a moment, I knew she had lied… but then why did she divorce him?
"And how did the Mitchells coincide with your family?"
"Oh, I suppose it's alright to tell you this since he's dead…" he said, his hand on his chin.
"You heard?" I asked. He nodded and went on.
"Well, you know the bit about my father being a death eater, who doesn't? Well, let's just say Mitchell was in the same like of business. They were old pals, partner slaves for the Dark Lord. Can't see why, Mitchell was pretty nice to me, and my father was just the opposite."
Somehow, none of this had made sense to me. Mitchell was a –death eater-?
"…and that's how Jean came to divorcing him," Draco went on. "She hates the Dark Lord. Everyone does. She just went over the line, much like my mother, and left. Rob was very angry at that."
"Ah," I said, realizing the truth. Rob had been a death eater, and Jean had divorced him for that reason. The neighbor was just a muggle that Rob had liked, and it was just like any other case. Nothing strange had happened, nothing horrible. Just one death, and he was a servant for the Voldemort too, so it isn't as if we've lost someone everyone loved… like Harry.
"Something wrong?" he asked, seeing the hurt in my eyes.
"Nothing…" I said, washing away the pain and going back to work. "So, do you know anything else about it?"
"Nope. I don't think so…" he said, grabbing a cup of tea and gulping it down. "Want some?"
"No thanks," I said, staring into his eyes. He sure had changed. "Case closed. I hope…"
He chuckled. "Let's hope. Now, if there isn't anything else you need, you should really be on your way."
"That's the Malfoy I know," I said, mocking his earlier statement.
On the way out, he handed me an umbrella and gave me a kiss on the forehead.
"Get some rest," he whispered, and then he was gone. I walked down the stairs and was off.
I pushed close my filing cabinet. No more would come out of that case. I had solved it, even if I was a bit late, and even if I wasn't satisfied with the conclusion that he just had plain insane neighbors that went on rampages every time they suspected someone of witchcraft. I lay down on my bed, tired from the day, and fell into a quite peaceful sleep.