Let The Good Times Roll

Chapter #1 - It Starts

By Chilled

Disclaimer: I do not own Draco, Narcissa, or any of the other characters that you may, and probably do, recognize as belonging to the wonderful world of Harry Potter that J. K. Rowling created. I do, however, own Adara, and … well, I like to think that my plot is original. If it resembles another story, then I'm sorry, but just about every plot has been used and re-used amongst the world of fan fiction. Further notage: This is my first fan fiction story. Well, my first HP-themed fan fiction, and the only one I've ever really finished. But that's beside the point. I know this chapter is short … just bear with me. I got to the end of this chapter, and thought it was a nice way to end. I don't know about everyone else, but I love long chapters. So, please forgive me on this one. I'm hoping to make them longer as I go. Reviews would be greatly appreciated – this is, as I mentioned, my first fan fiction. Comments and constructive criticism are welcome. Flames are not. Have a nice day, and enjoy the story!

It was a beautiful, if not overly warm, June morning in the Irish countryside. Everything was as it should be – the birds were singing their peaceful choruses, the flowers were blooming in bright array, and the fields were freshly hayed. All of this was, as usual, much too inviting for Adara McLoughlin to resist. Our story starts, however, five days beforehand, on a muggy, rain-filled day…
"Mom, please ... no!" pleaded a young girl who barely appeared to be more than a day over eight or nine years old. Determination filled Adara's pale blue eyes as she stared at her mother, her mouth set in a firm line.
"Adara, how many times must I tell you? Whether you like it or not, your cousin is coming," stated her mother firmly, a matching look of determination on her face.
"But ... he's so ... he's such a bast-"
"Adara Elise McLoughlin! What have I told you about your language, young lady?" asked her mother shrilly. "Do I need to get the soap out again?"
"No, mother," replied Adara in a more resigned tone as she turned to walk out of the room. Shooting one last angry glance over her shoulder, Adara stalked down the hall, her thoughts bounding around inside the hard skull she possessed. He's such a bloody brat. I can't believe she's actually letting him stay here! And it's not like his father is any better.
With a scowl still drawn upon her face, Adara pushed the screen door leading to the back porch open and sat on the top step, watching the rainfall. Pit-pat, pit-pat, pit-pat. That would be a simple life, to be a raindrop. For one having just turned eleven, Adara was sharp - and not in the way of a pencil.
Hearing the door creak behind her, Adara glanced over her shoulder to see her mother smiling softly. "They'll be dropping him off in a few days. I want you to make sure that the guest room is clean." Adara stared blankly at her mother for a moment before nodding and returning to the dryness that would be the indoors.

Hauling herself up the creakety stairs, Adara gently pushed open the heavy oak door leading into the guest room. Wrinkling her nose at the smell of the stagnant air, Adara slipped through the small gap she had created. Between the fact that the shades were drawn, and that there was little sunlight creeping through the clouds as it was, the room was very dark.
Had it been but a few months before, Adara would not have entered. Even now, as she tried to convince herself that the shadows around her were merely that – shadows – it was hard. She'd always had those recurring nightmares … she shuddered at the thought … those dreams, where she was in a dimly lit room, surrounded by moving shadows. Shadows of things she couldn't – no, didn't – want to see.
With one last shudder, Adara moved to the window and pulled the shades away to reveal the dusty window panes. Following the motion with her eyes, she gently dragged a finger across the dirt and grime that covered the glass. With a sigh, she pulled the shades back across. After all, if it was out of sight, it was out of mind. At least, this was her philosophy. Glancing around, Adara gave a shrug. It's clean enough for that blame fool, in my opinion. With a sigh, she slipped back through the doorway, closing the door firmly behind her.

--- Five days later, at approximately 9:17 in the morning ---


"Adara! Adara! Adara, you get yourself in here this instant, or I'll come and get you myself," shouted her mother out the back door before grimly adding, "And that, I must say, you won't like the results of." After waiting a moment, her mother gave a sigh of exasperation and turned back into the house.
Watching the whole scene from her perch in one of the higher limbs of a statue-like willow tree farther along the yard, Adara smirked. "Well, you won't see much of me for now, I'm afraid." Creeping along the branch, she returned to fiddling with something that oddly resembled a bucket of paint.
An hour later, now satisfied with her work, Adara climbed down from the tree, jumping gently from limb to limb. At the age of eleven, she was clearly skinny – but not for lack of food. When not plotting or scheming, Adara was usually found to be eating. It wasn't her fault that she had a naturally fast metabolism, now was it? The branches easily held her scant eighty pounds, and she eventually found herself once again at the bottom of the tree.
With one last sly smirk in the direction of a limb high above, Adara practically skipped across the back porch and into the house, allowing the screen door to close behind her with a clattering slam. She eagerly made her way into the kitchen, glancing around to sight out any easily available food. Spotting none, she decided for the next best thing. "Mum?" No answer. "Hey, mum! I'm hungry!" And still no answer.
Slipping through the doorway into the front hall, she began to let out another long 'Mum!' when she was cut short by the sight before her. Standing there, talking to her mother, was a thin, fairly beautiful woman, accompanied by none other than her most dreaded nemesis. Her cousin, Draco. Let the fun begin, thought Adara, a vicious smirk finding its way to her face as she eyed the sneer upon his.