Chapter 1: Uninvited
The storm raged outside the windows of Malfoy Manor; rain splattering against the ancient glass, as the wind roared ruthlessly on the walls of the beautiful structure. Malfoy Manor had stood for an unaccountable amount of years without anyone, so much as breaking into the house and, of course, if someone was brought into the house and was meant not to escape they certainly did not step a foot off the threshold ever again. The Manor was a fortress susceptible to, neither time, nor weather, nor history. It stood and stood and did not move.
But on this night, the night of December 21st, someone got into the house; someone most unexpected. Completely unexpected to the boy who sat in front of the fire warming his pale, perfectly manicured toes in the heat of the flames.
Draco Malfoy sat in his third floor parlor. The room was dark except for the light from the fire, which also produced the only heat. How was the blonde boy to know that, at that very moment, someone was climbing the trellis, cautiously and carefully inching closer and closer to the room where he was enjoying the small amount of warmth from the fire? The wards, obviously no match for this mysterious person, were as silent as death, waiting for a reason to go off. But none would come.
Three stories up, Draco, bored by the dancing flames, picked out a random book from the thousands of volumes that sat, collecting dust, on the shelves around the room. Draco sat back down casually in a velvet green armchair, which, even after so many times of being sat in, retained its stiffness. The boy who, at the time, was sixteen and on Christmas holiday from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry wore deep navy blue trousers and a crisp white shirt. If his parents had been home the shirt would've been tucked in, but because of their absence it was, instead, comfortably overlapping the top of his pants. The first few buttons were even left unhooked.
Draco lazily flicked through the pages of the book, every once in awhile he would brush a strand of misplaced flaxen hair out of his eyes. Stopping at a page he recited out loud in his drawling voice: "If music be the food of love, play on; Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting, The appetite may sicken, and so die."
He chuckled to himself, rhetorically asking the empty room, "Who is this? Shakespeare?" Draco flipped to the cover of the book. The title said, in gold lettering: "'Twelfth Night, or What You Will', by William Shakespeare"
"What do you know," Draco said smirking, "it is."
A loud crash sounded from one of the lower floors. Draco didn't jump, nor did he seem to notice the noise at all. Instead, he casually threw the book on a maple coffee table that sat next to the armchair and stood up, muttering about "those blasted house elves".
Draco walked out of the room before he could see a face silhouetted in the shallow light of the flames; there was a person outside the window. The person's wild hair and staring eyes looked colorless from behind the blur of the dripping window, but through the rain and the wind the person managed to take a wand out of their pocket, tap it lightly against the glass, and stow the wand away once again. The lock slipped out of place by itself with a soft click, and the window was open. The person looked around one of the Malfoy Manor rooms, and opened the window stealthily. Stepping lightly on the wood floor, dripping water carelessly, the person entered the third floor parlor, uninvited, and closed the window behind them, with only a muffled thud to announce their arrival.
Down in the kitchens, Draco stopped yelling at an innocent house elf, which was crouched in a corner near the stove, and glanced up as if hit by a sudden thought.
"What is it, sir?" The house elf's voice trembled in fear of being hit again.
"Do you smell that?" Draco asked, all thought of chewing out the house elf now gone.
"What, sir?" The house elf stood up shakily, sniffing around. "Mumfy didn't burn the dinner, sir, no Mumfy wouldn't do that, sir."
Draco waved the house elf's words away impatiently, then shot one slender finger into the air, quieting the elf immediately. Draco closed his eyes, obviously thinking hard, trying to place the smell. Suddenly, he had it.
"Versace Woman." Draco said, simply.
"What?" The house elf replied, very confused.
"Go and prepare a room, on the third floor," Draco told the house elf. "Someone's come to visit."
"But.but," the house elf stammered, "no one answered the door, how did the visitor get in, the bell didn't even ring, how -"
But the house elf was cut off by a voice from behind both him and Draco.
"I don't need to ring some silly bell to get into Malfoy Manor." The voice was female, and Draco knew who it was before he turned around, which he did a few moments after letting the girl's voice sink into his skin. "Refined. Seductive. Elegant." Draco said, seeing the girl he hadn't laid eyes on in two years. "I couldn't forget that smell if I tried."
"But then again, why would you want to?" The girl asked, taking a few steps closer to Draco. He glanced back at the house elf, and motioned for him to leave, then turning back to the mystery girl, he said, "Adele, what a pleasant surprise."
The storm raged outside the windows of Malfoy Manor; rain splattering against the ancient glass, as the wind roared ruthlessly on the walls of the beautiful structure. Malfoy Manor had stood for an unaccountable amount of years without anyone, so much as breaking into the house and, of course, if someone was brought into the house and was meant not to escape they certainly did not step a foot off the threshold ever again. The Manor was a fortress susceptible to, neither time, nor weather, nor history. It stood and stood and did not move.
But on this night, the night of December 21st, someone got into the house; someone most unexpected. Completely unexpected to the boy who sat in front of the fire warming his pale, perfectly manicured toes in the heat of the flames.
Draco Malfoy sat in his third floor parlor. The room was dark except for the light from the fire, which also produced the only heat. How was the blonde boy to know that, at that very moment, someone was climbing the trellis, cautiously and carefully inching closer and closer to the room where he was enjoying the small amount of warmth from the fire? The wards, obviously no match for this mysterious person, were as silent as death, waiting for a reason to go off. But none would come.
Three stories up, Draco, bored by the dancing flames, picked out a random book from the thousands of volumes that sat, collecting dust, on the shelves around the room. Draco sat back down casually in a velvet green armchair, which, even after so many times of being sat in, retained its stiffness. The boy who, at the time, was sixteen and on Christmas holiday from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry wore deep navy blue trousers and a crisp white shirt. If his parents had been home the shirt would've been tucked in, but because of their absence it was, instead, comfortably overlapping the top of his pants. The first few buttons were even left unhooked.
Draco lazily flicked through the pages of the book, every once in awhile he would brush a strand of misplaced flaxen hair out of his eyes. Stopping at a page he recited out loud in his drawling voice: "If music be the food of love, play on; Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting, The appetite may sicken, and so die."
He chuckled to himself, rhetorically asking the empty room, "Who is this? Shakespeare?" Draco flipped to the cover of the book. The title said, in gold lettering: "'Twelfth Night, or What You Will', by William Shakespeare"
"What do you know," Draco said smirking, "it is."
A loud crash sounded from one of the lower floors. Draco didn't jump, nor did he seem to notice the noise at all. Instead, he casually threw the book on a maple coffee table that sat next to the armchair and stood up, muttering about "those blasted house elves".
Draco walked out of the room before he could see a face silhouetted in the shallow light of the flames; there was a person outside the window. The person's wild hair and staring eyes looked colorless from behind the blur of the dripping window, but through the rain and the wind the person managed to take a wand out of their pocket, tap it lightly against the glass, and stow the wand away once again. The lock slipped out of place by itself with a soft click, and the window was open. The person looked around one of the Malfoy Manor rooms, and opened the window stealthily. Stepping lightly on the wood floor, dripping water carelessly, the person entered the third floor parlor, uninvited, and closed the window behind them, with only a muffled thud to announce their arrival.
Down in the kitchens, Draco stopped yelling at an innocent house elf, which was crouched in a corner near the stove, and glanced up as if hit by a sudden thought.
"What is it, sir?" The house elf's voice trembled in fear of being hit again.
"Do you smell that?" Draco asked, all thought of chewing out the house elf now gone.
"What, sir?" The house elf stood up shakily, sniffing around. "Mumfy didn't burn the dinner, sir, no Mumfy wouldn't do that, sir."
Draco waved the house elf's words away impatiently, then shot one slender finger into the air, quieting the elf immediately. Draco closed his eyes, obviously thinking hard, trying to place the smell. Suddenly, he had it.
"Versace Woman." Draco said, simply.
"What?" The house elf replied, very confused.
"Go and prepare a room, on the third floor," Draco told the house elf. "Someone's come to visit."
"But.but," the house elf stammered, "no one answered the door, how did the visitor get in, the bell didn't even ring, how -"
But the house elf was cut off by a voice from behind both him and Draco.
"I don't need to ring some silly bell to get into Malfoy Manor." The voice was female, and Draco knew who it was before he turned around, which he did a few moments after letting the girl's voice sink into his skin. "Refined. Seductive. Elegant." Draco said, seeing the girl he hadn't laid eyes on in two years. "I couldn't forget that smell if I tried."
"But then again, why would you want to?" The girl asked, taking a few steps closer to Draco. He glanced back at the house elf, and motioned for him to leave, then turning back to the mystery girl, he said, "Adele, what a pleasant surprise."