Both Pansy and Draco were confined to a small part of the dining room
table, the rest being taken up by the three adults and some lavish plans
for a new room to the Manor. Draco's arms crossed in annoyance at having to
still sit at the 'childrens' table when he should have been allowed to
socialise with adults.
"If you put it here then you can reach it quite easily from a number of rooms."
Thomas Parkinson was pointing at architectural drawings scrawled on parchment of every room in the house, some Draco didn't even know existed. Nor would he even attempt to get to them - he'd always assumed there were probably magically hidden parts of the house as there always was in old manors. He had tried once before to enter a dungeon door that appeared one day but walked out covered in feathers, much to his mother's dismay and his father's evil delight. Though he couldn't help wondering why they were hidden and it constantly nagged at him in the back of his mind.
Lucius was nodding, tugging on a small scroll to reveal that there were several yards rolled up in the little cacoon. The house elves were having a hard time setting dishes on the table without knocking into anyone or covering up something that might be vitally important. There was simply no more room left. Though Narcissa had no sympathy toward the annoying vermin, she was getting quite agitated herself with their constant interruptions and spills.
"Now really, Lucius," she began. "Is it necessary to do this at the table? I'd like to enjoy my meal in peace without hearing you two bickering."
She gave both of them a stern look and with a reproachful sigh, Mr. Parkinson and Lucius began clearing away the parchment. A house elf came to help but quickly scampered off when Lucius yelled at it to stay away.
Draco at once scooted away from Pansy to give them suitable room apart. The adults began a series of dull conversation between themselves as Draco poked at a joint of meat steaming in front of him with a fork.
"How have the holidays been treating you?" Mr. Parkinson turned towards Draco and asked haughtily.
Draco shrugged silently keeping his eyes on his plate. "Fine, I guess," he mumbled.
These business dinners' are so boring. We don't even need another room in the house, he thought. Though the son of Lucius and a Malfoy at heart, Draco really wasn't too interested in wizarding politics or any business talk Lucius engaged himself in. Draco would rather stick to listening in on private conversations, thank you.
His mother was much the same which, Draco thought, is probably where he got it from. His fork made a miniature hill of mashed potatoes as Mr. Parkinson began talking of Arthur Weasley, whom he wasn't fond of either. The mention of that name launched yet another lengthy talk of today's events. Narcissa cleared her throat to get attention.
"While you two gentlemen discuss matters of," she paused with a look of disgust on her face, "Arthur Weasley, the children and I will find some more suitable form of entertainment."
Both Draco and Pansy sighed with relief, pushing their chairs away from the table and lifting their plates to accommodate the scrolls that quickly littered the table once again. Draco was relieved to find that Narcissa would be joining him in the task of entertaining Pansy since it was not easily defeatable. However, he must have misinterpreted his mother's words because as soon as they left the dining room she went the opposite direction.
She had only gone a few feet when she retreated back and, grabbing Draco's arm in an unnecessarily strong hold, hissed; "Keep her entertained, I don't want your father and Mr. Parkinson to be interrupted."
Draco nodded silently, rubbing his forearm where her fingers had been wrapped tightly around the skin. The glare directed towards Narcissa's back had gone unnoticed by Pansy, who was now chattering like a bird on drugs.
"Let's play a game," she suggested.
Draco was caught off guard and sputtered a bit. "A game? What kind of game?" He thought with grim satisfaction what kind of game he'd like to play with her. Maybe hide and seek, he could leave her hiding for hours...
"Chess?" she piped enthusiastically.
"You know how to play Chess?" he asked. Draco had deliberately meant it as an insult but by the smile on her face she hadn't taken it that way.
"I know how to do a lot of things."
There was a visible shudder on Draco's part as Pansy grinned up at him.
"Well?" she demanded after a moment of silence. "I haven't got all day you know."
Draco sighed for what seemed the fiftieth time tonight and led her to his room. In any other circumstance he wouldn't have let her come within a hundred feet of his own living area, but the only other Chess board in the house belonged to his father and he wasn't about to go asking him for it.
They would have to settle for Draco's slightly more battered wizarding chess set that he'd had since he was four. It was an old chess set made out of marbled stone and passed down father to son longer then Draco could care to remember. Lucius hesitated the day he gave it to Draco; he was afraid his son would break it but Draco proved himself. The set itself was still in good condition considering its history; the pieces had been magically protected so they would be able to heal themselves quickly and efficiently after a game.
On close inspection it was obvious the black pieces had more damage then the white, Crabbe or Goyle always played black and they were both extremely stupid on the matter of how to properly play the game.
The mirror in his room chuckled softly as it caught the reflection of Draco's eyes darting about while Pansy fondled anything within her reach.
The chess set hadn't been used since the last week of term and was properly buried among other school things he had ditched when he arrived home two months prior.
"I wouldn't have expected you to be so clean," Pansy commented snidely, taking in the bare floor and made bed. Even Draco couldn't help but laugh.
"The house elves do that, I can't be bothered with women's work like cleaning."
He finally, and triumphantly, pulled the set out and ushered Pansy out of the room. They passed the dining room where their fathers were still talking of the additional room Lucius had wanted added to the manor. In most cases it would've been a simple wave of the wand by a trained architectural wizard to do such a thing, but Lucius wanted it protected by powerful magic and the architecture for designing it was beyond what he knew, thus enlisting the help of Thomas Parkinson a well known wizarding architect. The men laughed harshly, the clank of two scotch glasses echoing down the hall.
Settled in the small library, the two children had just began to set up the board and disentangle two pawns of the opposite colour that were fighting with each other over an argument the pieces had all been having, when Mr. Parkinson appeared in the doorway.
"Time to head back, Pansy dear," he said.
"But Daddy!" she whined. "We haven't even begun."
Mr. Parkinson smiled. Draco could only guess he must be one of the more experienced wizard architects, for someone with his personality would surely clash with a person like Lucius.
"You'll have to continue it some other day. Your mother is expecting us back and we can't leave her waiting."
His daughter's shoulders slumped in reluctant defeat and she sulked out of the room almost looking on the verge of tears. Draco remained in the room but caught a bit of what Mr. Parkinson said to Lucius on the way out.
"Seems Pansy has a little crush on Draco, hmm? They'd be quite a pair wouldn't they?"
If Lucius replied Draco didn't hear it, but he could guess that his father most likely wouldn't like the idea of the two being a couple. Lucius didn't mind Mr. Parkinson even if he did seem to be a bit too happy at times, but Pansy was a different story. He found her irritating and meddlesome when it came to private matters. Secretly, Draco thought the same.
All too soon Draco was being woken by a house elf the following morning. He glanced over at the aged wooden grandfather clock reading 8:45 A.M; that give him two hours until the train would leave.
After kicking the house elf, whom he didn't know by name, out of the way, Draco headed toward the shower.
He would have preferred to clean himself magically, as he did at school, but that would again be breaking a Ministry rule of underage wizardry. He was glad to know, though, that his father thought the rule was quite unnecessary. The only reason Draco could fathom his father wanting him to abide by it was Lucius wanting to keep a clean family record, as well as a low profile, until the Dark Lord came back into power.
Having a Muggle cleaning system such as a shower was a bit embarrassing when Draco really thought about it, but he couldn't deny that it was pleasant, though not preferable over a bathtub that he had no time to use this morning.
By the time he had exited the small room for the shower, the sun had risen enough to flood his bed with light. Freshly washed Hogwarts robes lay on his bed along side an already packed suitcase with the Slytherin serpent and Draco's initials carved into it. His father had had the suitcase specially made for Draco after having learned he had been Sorted into Slytherin, which was expected of every Malfoy. In the sunlight it glittered green and silver, the colours of his House.
The half length mirror beside Draco's bed kept quiet as Draco sat on a chair preening himself, thinking it was probably wise not to say anything after what had happened a week earlier.
Not, much to Draco's dismay, that he could have done much to upset the mirror anyway - the hot water never mixed well with the gel he used in his hair. He would just have to settle with having the strands hang down, tickling the insides of his ears and annoying his eyes.
There was shuffling downstairs, presumably the house elves were fixing breakfast. The smell of eggs and bacon wafted under the doorway, diverting Draco's attention away from the ever important task of making himself look presentable.
Upon reaching the dining room, several house elves bumped into Draco then ran off squealing in terror that he would punish them. He probably would have if they had stayed - he always hated elves. Stupid annoying things - always getting underfoot. He saw no reason they couldn't have human servants. What he wouldn't give to have Potter as his own personal slave, yelling at him to be a footstool or to refill Draco's glass.
He chuckled to himself at the thought. Potter was always treated so leniently, those idiot Muggles he lived with probably lavished him with gifts. Out of fear, of course, that Potter would do something to them. Draco wouldn't put it past the prat to turn the Muggles all into dogs if they didn't adhere to his commands. Any self respecting wizard would do the same, but that was obviously beside the point.
"What are you laughing about?" his father asked, entering the Dining Room from behind.
Draco had been so caught up in his fantasy that he hadn't heard the door being opened.
"Why can't we have human servants?" Draco was still too deeply delved in the idea of Potter serving him that he didn't much care to answer his father's question.
The look on Lucius's face was suffice to say that the answer should have been apparent. "Because human's want pay for their work, Draco."
As a side note he added, "Not that we have money problems, but we need hardly waste a single knut on human servants when we have perfectly capable house elves to do it for free."
Perfectly capable was a bit of an overstatement. The house elves were dutiful but the senior elf, Dobby, kept burning food or running into Lucius as he tried to work. Nonetheless, his father did have a point. Unfortunately.
Lucius took the seat at the head of the table, nonplussed to Draco's obviously apparent sulking in a chair on the opposite end. It had probably gone unnoticed as his eyes were focused on page three of the Daily Prophet. Mealtimes were always the same at the Malfoy Manor. Draco sat silently while his parents discussed matters unimportant to him or read the Prophet. And the only time the paper ever interested him was when mentioning of Arthur Weasley arose.
The minutes ticked by slowly. There wasn't much to do until they arrived at the platform. If there had been any other children in the house he could have amused himself by playing Exploding Snap, but his parents had made it clear he wasn't going to be having any siblings. Lucius himself had three brothers and it had been a nightmare when it came down to who inherited what when Draco's grandfather had passed away. Not to mention Draco was quite enough on his own.
"If you put it here then you can reach it quite easily from a number of rooms."
Thomas Parkinson was pointing at architectural drawings scrawled on parchment of every room in the house, some Draco didn't even know existed. Nor would he even attempt to get to them - he'd always assumed there were probably magically hidden parts of the house as there always was in old manors. He had tried once before to enter a dungeon door that appeared one day but walked out covered in feathers, much to his mother's dismay and his father's evil delight. Though he couldn't help wondering why they were hidden and it constantly nagged at him in the back of his mind.
Lucius was nodding, tugging on a small scroll to reveal that there were several yards rolled up in the little cacoon. The house elves were having a hard time setting dishes on the table without knocking into anyone or covering up something that might be vitally important. There was simply no more room left. Though Narcissa had no sympathy toward the annoying vermin, she was getting quite agitated herself with their constant interruptions and spills.
"Now really, Lucius," she began. "Is it necessary to do this at the table? I'd like to enjoy my meal in peace without hearing you two bickering."
She gave both of them a stern look and with a reproachful sigh, Mr. Parkinson and Lucius began clearing away the parchment. A house elf came to help but quickly scampered off when Lucius yelled at it to stay away.
Draco at once scooted away from Pansy to give them suitable room apart. The adults began a series of dull conversation between themselves as Draco poked at a joint of meat steaming in front of him with a fork.
"How have the holidays been treating you?" Mr. Parkinson turned towards Draco and asked haughtily.
Draco shrugged silently keeping his eyes on his plate. "Fine, I guess," he mumbled.
These business dinners' are so boring. We don't even need another room in the house, he thought. Though the son of Lucius and a Malfoy at heart, Draco really wasn't too interested in wizarding politics or any business talk Lucius engaged himself in. Draco would rather stick to listening in on private conversations, thank you.
His mother was much the same which, Draco thought, is probably where he got it from. His fork made a miniature hill of mashed potatoes as Mr. Parkinson began talking of Arthur Weasley, whom he wasn't fond of either. The mention of that name launched yet another lengthy talk of today's events. Narcissa cleared her throat to get attention.
"While you two gentlemen discuss matters of," she paused with a look of disgust on her face, "Arthur Weasley, the children and I will find some more suitable form of entertainment."
Both Draco and Pansy sighed with relief, pushing their chairs away from the table and lifting their plates to accommodate the scrolls that quickly littered the table once again. Draco was relieved to find that Narcissa would be joining him in the task of entertaining Pansy since it was not easily defeatable. However, he must have misinterpreted his mother's words because as soon as they left the dining room she went the opposite direction.
She had only gone a few feet when she retreated back and, grabbing Draco's arm in an unnecessarily strong hold, hissed; "Keep her entertained, I don't want your father and Mr. Parkinson to be interrupted."
Draco nodded silently, rubbing his forearm where her fingers had been wrapped tightly around the skin. The glare directed towards Narcissa's back had gone unnoticed by Pansy, who was now chattering like a bird on drugs.
"Let's play a game," she suggested.
Draco was caught off guard and sputtered a bit. "A game? What kind of game?" He thought with grim satisfaction what kind of game he'd like to play with her. Maybe hide and seek, he could leave her hiding for hours...
"Chess?" she piped enthusiastically.
"You know how to play Chess?" he asked. Draco had deliberately meant it as an insult but by the smile on her face she hadn't taken it that way.
"I know how to do a lot of things."
There was a visible shudder on Draco's part as Pansy grinned up at him.
"Well?" she demanded after a moment of silence. "I haven't got all day you know."
Draco sighed for what seemed the fiftieth time tonight and led her to his room. In any other circumstance he wouldn't have let her come within a hundred feet of his own living area, but the only other Chess board in the house belonged to his father and he wasn't about to go asking him for it.
They would have to settle for Draco's slightly more battered wizarding chess set that he'd had since he was four. It was an old chess set made out of marbled stone and passed down father to son longer then Draco could care to remember. Lucius hesitated the day he gave it to Draco; he was afraid his son would break it but Draco proved himself. The set itself was still in good condition considering its history; the pieces had been magically protected so they would be able to heal themselves quickly and efficiently after a game.
On close inspection it was obvious the black pieces had more damage then the white, Crabbe or Goyle always played black and they were both extremely stupid on the matter of how to properly play the game.
The mirror in his room chuckled softly as it caught the reflection of Draco's eyes darting about while Pansy fondled anything within her reach.
The chess set hadn't been used since the last week of term and was properly buried among other school things he had ditched when he arrived home two months prior.
"I wouldn't have expected you to be so clean," Pansy commented snidely, taking in the bare floor and made bed. Even Draco couldn't help but laugh.
"The house elves do that, I can't be bothered with women's work like cleaning."
He finally, and triumphantly, pulled the set out and ushered Pansy out of the room. They passed the dining room where their fathers were still talking of the additional room Lucius had wanted added to the manor. In most cases it would've been a simple wave of the wand by a trained architectural wizard to do such a thing, but Lucius wanted it protected by powerful magic and the architecture for designing it was beyond what he knew, thus enlisting the help of Thomas Parkinson a well known wizarding architect. The men laughed harshly, the clank of two scotch glasses echoing down the hall.
Settled in the small library, the two children had just began to set up the board and disentangle two pawns of the opposite colour that were fighting with each other over an argument the pieces had all been having, when Mr. Parkinson appeared in the doorway.
"Time to head back, Pansy dear," he said.
"But Daddy!" she whined. "We haven't even begun."
Mr. Parkinson smiled. Draco could only guess he must be one of the more experienced wizard architects, for someone with his personality would surely clash with a person like Lucius.
"You'll have to continue it some other day. Your mother is expecting us back and we can't leave her waiting."
His daughter's shoulders slumped in reluctant defeat and she sulked out of the room almost looking on the verge of tears. Draco remained in the room but caught a bit of what Mr. Parkinson said to Lucius on the way out.
"Seems Pansy has a little crush on Draco, hmm? They'd be quite a pair wouldn't they?"
If Lucius replied Draco didn't hear it, but he could guess that his father most likely wouldn't like the idea of the two being a couple. Lucius didn't mind Mr. Parkinson even if he did seem to be a bit too happy at times, but Pansy was a different story. He found her irritating and meddlesome when it came to private matters. Secretly, Draco thought the same.
All too soon Draco was being woken by a house elf the following morning. He glanced over at the aged wooden grandfather clock reading 8:45 A.M; that give him two hours until the train would leave.
After kicking the house elf, whom he didn't know by name, out of the way, Draco headed toward the shower.
He would have preferred to clean himself magically, as he did at school, but that would again be breaking a Ministry rule of underage wizardry. He was glad to know, though, that his father thought the rule was quite unnecessary. The only reason Draco could fathom his father wanting him to abide by it was Lucius wanting to keep a clean family record, as well as a low profile, until the Dark Lord came back into power.
Having a Muggle cleaning system such as a shower was a bit embarrassing when Draco really thought about it, but he couldn't deny that it was pleasant, though not preferable over a bathtub that he had no time to use this morning.
By the time he had exited the small room for the shower, the sun had risen enough to flood his bed with light. Freshly washed Hogwarts robes lay on his bed along side an already packed suitcase with the Slytherin serpent and Draco's initials carved into it. His father had had the suitcase specially made for Draco after having learned he had been Sorted into Slytherin, which was expected of every Malfoy. In the sunlight it glittered green and silver, the colours of his House.
The half length mirror beside Draco's bed kept quiet as Draco sat on a chair preening himself, thinking it was probably wise not to say anything after what had happened a week earlier.
Not, much to Draco's dismay, that he could have done much to upset the mirror anyway - the hot water never mixed well with the gel he used in his hair. He would just have to settle with having the strands hang down, tickling the insides of his ears and annoying his eyes.
There was shuffling downstairs, presumably the house elves were fixing breakfast. The smell of eggs and bacon wafted under the doorway, diverting Draco's attention away from the ever important task of making himself look presentable.
Upon reaching the dining room, several house elves bumped into Draco then ran off squealing in terror that he would punish them. He probably would have if they had stayed - he always hated elves. Stupid annoying things - always getting underfoot. He saw no reason they couldn't have human servants. What he wouldn't give to have Potter as his own personal slave, yelling at him to be a footstool or to refill Draco's glass.
He chuckled to himself at the thought. Potter was always treated so leniently, those idiot Muggles he lived with probably lavished him with gifts. Out of fear, of course, that Potter would do something to them. Draco wouldn't put it past the prat to turn the Muggles all into dogs if they didn't adhere to his commands. Any self respecting wizard would do the same, but that was obviously beside the point.
"What are you laughing about?" his father asked, entering the Dining Room from behind.
Draco had been so caught up in his fantasy that he hadn't heard the door being opened.
"Why can't we have human servants?" Draco was still too deeply delved in the idea of Potter serving him that he didn't much care to answer his father's question.
The look on Lucius's face was suffice to say that the answer should have been apparent. "Because human's want pay for their work, Draco."
As a side note he added, "Not that we have money problems, but we need hardly waste a single knut on human servants when we have perfectly capable house elves to do it for free."
Perfectly capable was a bit of an overstatement. The house elves were dutiful but the senior elf, Dobby, kept burning food or running into Lucius as he tried to work. Nonetheless, his father did have a point. Unfortunately.
Lucius took the seat at the head of the table, nonplussed to Draco's obviously apparent sulking in a chair on the opposite end. It had probably gone unnoticed as his eyes were focused on page three of the Daily Prophet. Mealtimes were always the same at the Malfoy Manor. Draco sat silently while his parents discussed matters unimportant to him or read the Prophet. And the only time the paper ever interested him was when mentioning of Arthur Weasley arose.
The minutes ticked by slowly. There wasn't much to do until they arrived at the platform. If there had been any other children in the house he could have amused himself by playing Exploding Snap, but his parents had made it clear he wasn't going to be having any siblings. Lucius himself had three brothers and it had been a nightmare when it came down to who inherited what when Draco's grandfather had passed away. Not to mention Draco was quite enough on his own.