LIFE OF A MALFOY
CHAPTER I
"Sir? Draco Malfoy, sir. It is time to get up." Draco opened one eye at the sound of the high pitched voice. The curtains had been pulled and light was streaming into his spacious room. The young boy squinted and slowly the figure of the intruder came into focus. A small creature wearing an old pillowcase stood before him. Seeing the young boy was waking, the creature bent low, bowing his head graciously to the ground.
Draco rolled his eyes. "Surely you have something better to do than to wake me up so early in the morning." He glared at the creature before pushing the house-elf off the side of his bed. The creature stumbled and fell to the ground, landing with a loud thud. "Now, that's better, go and see to my father or something," the boy said, dismissively, waving a hand groggily in the air.
The house-elf didn't move; "but sir, Dobby must tell what master has ordered him; Draco Malfoy must get out of bed now, sir; he must get his school equipment from Diagon Alley today." Draco groaned and turned so that his head was buried in his pillow. His father had reminded him, the previous day, of the necessary trip to the popular street. The house-elf excused himself and, bowing low once again, fled from the room.
Draco swung his legs over the edge of his bed, deciding to sit still for a few moments before standing. As he sat, Draco looked around his room. It was immaculately clean, with a large wardrobe leaning against the wall. His bed lay opposite a window which overlooked a huge field surrounded by trees which reached almost fifteen feet in the air. A few posters hung from the wall and the room looked entirely as if it belonged to a normal eleven-year old boy. It did not however. This was one of the largest bedrooms of the Malfoy estate and it belonged to Draco, the soul heir of the family's fortunes. The Malfoys were one of the most well-known wizarding families and Draco was, not unlike the rest of his family even dating back to the time of his ancestors, a wizard.
Draco stood and picked up a carved piece of wood from a small cabinet next to his bed. Pointing the stick at his bed, he muttered the word 'Immaculus' and instantly the bedcovers flew forward, lying neatly over the sheets and the pillows were fluffed. Draco mumbled to himself as he sauntered over to his wardrobe and opened the heavy wooden doors. Inside each door was a full-length mirror, which shimmered in the light. What was more intriguing was the size of the wardrobe. From the outside, it had appeared to be only a foot from the wall. Now that it was open, it seemed to go on for miles. Draco stepped into the wardrobe, murmured an inaudible word and instantly the end of his wand lit up, releasing a pale green glow.
The young boy muttered to himself as he sorted through the rows of hangers. Small white labels had been stuck at the end of each row and Draco read out loud some of the names as he passed. When he reached 'Muggle Wear' he stopped. This row had been organised into an assortment of jeans, T-shirts and jumpers. "Damn Muggles," Draco muttered under his breath at the sight of them. He pulled a light pair of jeans and a black T-shirt off a couple of hangers and carried them back out of the wardrobe. Slipping off his bed-clothes, Draco pulled the 'Muggle wear' on. He turned and studied himself in the mirror. As soon as his eyes connected with the image, the image sharpened, the shimmering light was gone.
Draco glared at the reflection. In the mirror, he saw a young boy with a pale face, staring back at him with ice-blue eyes. The boy's hair was fair, almost silver-blond and gleamed as the sunlight struck it. The boy was wearing light blue jeans which were held loosely by a belt. Draco tugged unconsciously on the belt, pulling them up a few inches. The T-shirt that the reflection wore, contrasted immediately with the almost unnaturally pale complexion of the boy's face. The reflection began to move. Slowly, the representation shifted from one pose to another, sometimes frowning and at other times, smirking.
Draco pushed the wardrobe door shut, forcefully. These clothes would do, he thought, satisfied, it wasn't as if he was going to meet anyone more important than himself. He ran a hand swiftly through his hair, untangling a small knot. "Geliacarious," he ordered his wand. The piece of wood made a popping sound and emitted a thin green mist. "Worthless piece of _"
"Draco!" He froze as he heard his father's voice calling him. He threw the wand on the floor where it snapped in half. Draco looked at it for a moment, an angry gleam clearly visible in his eyes. He scanned his room, frantically, looking for a pot of wax which he could use to slick back his hair. He could see none and stamped his foot angrily.
"Malfoys do not go out looking like they have just thrown themselves together," he muttered under his breath, remembering his father's words. Flinging open his door, Draco descending the stairs into the grand entrance hall. To the right was the spacious room in which he knew he would find his father. "'Morning," he said politely but without conviction.
His father stood and strode across the room, turning his back on his son, and resting with his fists placed firmly on the windowsill. Lucius Malfoy was a tall, well-built man with similar features to Draco. He had the same pointed facial elements, similar blond hair and cold grey eyes. "Draco." His father spoke slowly and sternly. "Today we are going to Diagon Alley; we'll get you everything you'll need for your time at Hogwarts."
Draco felt a small smile playing at his lips; "Father, can I have a broomstick? Mine's slow and I'd like a better one. With a better broom, it'll be much easier to get into the Slytherin Quidditch team." Draco looked at his father's back, pleading silently.
Lucius turned slowly; "Draco, how many times do I have to tell you; you know first-years are not allowed their own brooms. And besides," his father walked towards him until he stood directly in front of his son, "you might not even be sorted into Slytherin." Lucius strode past Draco, leaving the room. Draco turned and scowled at his father's retreating back. Not get into Slytherin, he thought, there was no way he was going to be the first in his family not to be sorted into that House.
Draco followed his father, making sure that he stayed at least twenty paces behind him. The small eleven-year old was deep in thought; remembering all that he had been told of his new school. Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was one of the greatest wizarding schools in the country, let alone the world. It had a reputation for turning out some of the greatest and most powerful wizards the world had ever seen. There were four houses; Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff and, of course, Slytherin. His entire family had belonged to Slytherin, a house well-known for attracting the most cunning and deceitful wizards.
"Ten minutes, Draco, " his father said sternly as he turned into his own room. Draco rolled his eyes and traipsed into his own room, mumbling under his breath. He didn't see why they had to collect his school equipment so early in the holiday, he still had over half a month before he would leave for his new school.
"Boy, get down here now." Draco sighed as he heard his father calling him, only seven minutes later. Pulling a dark cloak over his shoulders, Draco fastened the two buttons at the top, straightening a few creases as he did so. "Hurry!" he heard again.
"Alright, alright," he grumbled, inaudible to anyone but him. On his way down the hall, he passed the small house-elf who was carrying a pile of clean pillow-cases which almost doubled his height. For a second or two, Draco entertained the idea of kicking the small creature but, smirking mischievously, only passed him by.
As he reached the bottom of the stairs, his mother immediately flew to him, flattening his hair and pulling his robes tighter together. He squirmed with annoyance as she ignored his glares and continued to shuffle around him straightening his clothes.
He was almost grateful when his father roughly grabbed one of her arms, pulling her out of reach. "Stop fussing, woman," he growled spitefully, pushing her into the hall. Draco strolled into the room after his father, rolling his eyes at his parent's backs. "You first," Lucius barked at his wife, "I'll take the boy."
With a sharp point of the wand and a mutter of words, Narcissa disappeared into thin air. Draco wasn't shocked, he was used to this kind of behaviour. At an early age, his parents had taught him many charms, spells and incantations that should not be learnt until he reached secondary school. Apparition, a particularly difficult mode of transportation, was nonetheless one of the most effective. It involved disappearing from one place and appearing in another the following second. Although Draco was underage and had never taken a test, he was now skilled enough in this area to use it whenever possible. Of course, he couldn't just turn up anywhere. They had struck a deal with an owner of a shop down one of the small side-streets in Diagon Alley and that's where they would reappear.
Positioning Draco in front of himself, Lucius lightly placed his large palms on the balls of his son's shoulders. He gave them a small squeeze, by way of an involuntary show of encouragement. "Right," he said, "you know what to do."
Muttering a single word, Draco tapped his wand in the air. Immediately, the wooden furnishing of the Malfoy Manor began to blur, colours zipping past his eyes at the speed of light. Almost as quickly as it had started, it stopped. Looking around, Draco saw that he and his father, still standing in the same position, were now in the back storage room of a shop.
Draco smirked as Lucius patted him on the shoulder, pleased with proving to his father he would be a great wizard. At the side of the room sat Narcissa, holding a hand gingerly to her forehead.
"Come on," snarled Lucius, making his way out of the store-room, "stop being so melodramatic." Silently, Narcissa stood and followed her husband and her son out of the door. Once in the main shop area, Lucius politely nodded his head towards the owner before sauntering out the door. Draco followed his father, shielding his eyes from the sun as he stepped out into the busy street. "This way," Lucius said, gruffly, his cloak billowing out behind him as he strode through the crowd.
Stepping onto the main street, Draco was amazed to see just how many people there were just milling around. He glanced up at the names of each of the shops as they passed, looking in the windows of the more interesting ones.
The family came to a halt outside a crooked-looking building. Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. "Your mother and I are going to look around for a bit," said Lucius slowly, "Malkin will know what to do."
Draco nodded, opening the door to the shop slowly. It wasn't his first time in here. Madam Malkin provided the family with all their robes, from the matching dress robes with the Malfoy coat of arms embroidered on the deep velvet, to the robes they wore each day. With an air of arrogance and self-importance, Draco stepped over the threshold and into the small shop. It consisted of one large room with a passage-way leading off from the far right corner. Through there, Draco could only assume lay a work room where the robes would be made.
The plump owner of the shop was rather pre-occupied. On a small stool at the far side of the shop was a small round boy who was fumbling nervously. Madam Malkin knelt in front of the boy, busy hemming up a plain black robe. "Mr Longbottom," she said crossly, "please stop moving. Else you'll end up with this pin in your leg." At these words, the boy stood shock-still, arms pinned to his side.
Draco chuckled in amusement. The woman on the floor turned at the sound. "Ahh, Mr Malfoy," she continued, turning her attention back to the robe she was altering. "Two minutes and I'll be with you." Draco nodded at her turned back before glancing around the room he stood in. It was well-lit, with pale walls all displaying differently coloured robes which looked to be in all shapes and sizes. He would never admit it but Draco loved to visit Madam Malkin's shop. He couldn't explain what it was but here, he could fully appreciate the many hours that were put into each piece of clothing.
Minutes later, Madam Malkin was indeed finished with the boy named Longbottom. He was met at the door by an elderly lady who Draco assumed must be his grandmother, who paid for the services, before they exited into the busy wizarding street. With a clap of her hands, Madam Malkin turned round to face Draco, a smile planted firmly on her face.
"Young Draco," she greeted him in her usual warm voice, "I'm assuming you're here to pick up your new Hogwarts robes." The statement was more of a question and so Draco nodded his head politely. "As I thought. I made up some in advance. I'll just need to bring up the hem a little I think." With a wink, the friendly lady exited the room into the passage-way, returning only moments later with a shining black robe hanging delicately from her folded arm.
Draco slipped the material over his shoulders, allowing the shop-owner to fasten the buttons. Once buttoned, the robe was then brushed down and he was inspected. Standing on the stool, in his new school robes, Draco felt an over-riding sense of pride wash over him. It was then that Draco noticed another presence in the room. A young boy of his age was standing by the door, his fingers still wrapped around the handle tightly. Draco's eyes narrowed and he raised his eyebrows with sudden interest.
The boy's face was familiar, although Draco couldn't quite place it. It was an earnest face, with wide eyes and dark, unruly hair that fell onto his forehead. The boy shuffled his feet anxiously as he took in the room. Draco sneered. There was something about this boy; something he couldn't quite work out.
"Draco. If you wouldn't mind just waiting a few moments," Madam Malkin said, politely, as she pulled herself up from her knees. She walked the length of the room until she stood directly in front of the boy. "Hogwarts, dear?" she asked him.
The boy nodded and was led to a stool next to Draco, upon which he was soon stood. The boy stood stationary, only his eyes moving as they darted around the room, taking in every detail. Draco rolled his eyes and fought the urge to make a snide comment at the young boy's evident naivety.
Only minutes later, Madam Malkin was finished and, after helping Draco take the robe off, she handed to him in a crisp black bag with the shop's fancy logo emblazoned on the front. It was then that the door to the shop opened once again. Draco knew who had walked in before he heard his father's voice address the keeper.
"How much is that then?" Lucius asked with cold civility, handing over a number of coins before turning back to his son. "Books next, Draco."
With one final look over his shoulder at the boy, Draco followed his father out of the shop. As they wandered down the alley, Draco peered into the window of every shop they passed. Some interested him more than others. There were windows that were full of books with interesting-looking covers; other windows displayed shelf upon shelf of creatures that could supposedly be kept as pets. One shop they passed had a crowd of children standing outside the window, all pointing excitedly at what the display held. Taking a step closer, Draco could see that, on a shelf in the middle of the window display, was a broomstick.
This was a broomstick unlike all others; the Nimbus 2000. It was polished to a high standard; it's dark wooden handle decorated with intricate carvings. The bristles were firm and fastened together with a single gold band. The handle was shaped for easy use and it was, in Draco's young eyes, the best broomstick he had ever seen.
"But dad," Draco heard a young boy plead with his father, "please can I have it? I'll practise every day, you know I will. I'll do anything." Draco snorted at the boy's obvious desperation before returning his attention to the broomstick and it's price tag. It wasn't anything too surprising. Draco would have been able to afford it himself, without having to ask his father, but he knew it would be useless. As his father kept reminding him, first-years were not allowed to take broomsticks with them to Hogwarts. He would just have to get himself a top of the range broomstick for his second year.
After another hour of shopping for Draco's school equipment, the family retired to the Leaky Cauldron, a pub which catered for the likes of all wizards. Seeing his family to a table in the corner, Lucius made his way to the bar, where he proceeded to order the drinks.
Draco glared straight ahead, ignoring his mother's presence. He wasn't happy. He had wanted a new owl to take with him to school, but he had promptly been informed he was to use one of the old house owls, Jasper. In the wizarding world, post-boxes were rarely found. In fact, Draco had only seen one once, in a Muggle artefacts shop his old school had arranged a trip to. Owls were, instead, the preferred method of sending letters. Jasper was, however, a fairly young owl with a tendency to get lost on the simplest of routes. Draco had even offered to pay for a new owl out of his own pocket money, but had failed to win his father around.
It took a couple of minutes before Draco realised there was someone staring back at him. A girl. With slightly curled, bushy hair and wide brown eyes. Any other day, Draco would probably have at least made an effort with this girl, but not today. Today, Draco wasn't in the mood. Feeling thoroughly annoyed by her, Draco made a disapproving face, turning his nose up at her, before redirecting his gaze. By the time his father returned, the girl was gone.