Chapter 24- Draco's Summer: Summer of Discontent
It was certainly not the best of times, but it was not quite the worst of times.
In true determined-Draco fashion, he had managed to pass the Apparition test within four days of returning home from his sixth year at Hogwarts. Within this same amount of time, he received a letter from Hermione, which apologized but did not explain anything. He huffed in frustration, only slightly amused by her comments concerning studying for N.E.W.T.s in India.
Draco had not unpacked anything but the clothes he had already worn. A week into summer break, all he had done was practicing spells, flying, and thinking of Hermione. That night, after dinner, his father summoned him to his study.
"Wonderful news, son," Lucius said in his disdainful drawl. "Voldemort has agreed to take you early as one of his followers. You can receive the mark tomorrow night."
************************************************************************
"And you had better watch out, or one day you'll find yourself without a little Mudblood girlfriend to do all your work for you!" Lucius shouted before slamming the door.
At this, Draco stopped in his tracks. He almost turned back, but he resisted the urge to retaliate. He would not give his father that satisfaction. Instead he looked firmly into Ras's eyes, and took a resolute step forward before he realized that he had no idea where he was going.
Sighing, he stuck out his wand arm. He had to jump out of the way to avoid being hit by the triple-decker purple Knight Bus. With a comforting word to Ras, he paid the attendant and dragged his things to the back.
Draco distracted himself from the spinning landscape by wondering where the driver had learned to drive, if you could call it that. After what seemed like forever, they stopped at number 478 Allan Street. The address of his flat.
Draco made sure he had his keys before leaving the bus. His heart was racing with excitement. For a moment he forgot to be depressed, to busy anticipating the appearance of his own, very own, private, owned by him, flat. He had never seen it, even though he had been paying rent on in for the past two months.
It was perfect. The furniture in the parlor was all black, plush, and overstuffed, aside from the tables, which were all of hand-carved ebony. A fireplace of black bricks interrupted one wall. The only color was added by the (magical, of course, so they didn't use electri- electi- plugs) lamps. They were all white porcelain, hand painted with designs of nature. Trees, dragons, and the like. The rug in the center was a deep green, with blue around the border.
The kitchen was a rather modern one, with black marble countertops and a black tile floor, and mahogany cupboards. The sink matched the counters so perfectly that he did not see it at first.
The bathroom was also black, in terms of the toilet, tub, and sink, with a white floor, an ebony-framed mirror, which greeted him jovially when he looked in, white walls with black leaves painted close to the ceiling, and a sliding, translucent glass door for the shower. Draco wondered who had lived here before, who had decorated in such a manner that he found it perfect.
There were two bedrooms. One was all black, but for white walls, and the other was all white with pale blue walls. Naturally, he chose the black one. He unpacked everything, down to the last sock and schoolbook. He wanted this place to really feel like his home.
Immediately he went into Diagon Alley. At Gringotts, he extracted a fair amount of his money, then walked out with the bag bulging.
The first store he entered was Flourish and Blotts. He looked up two spells, though it took him approximately an hour to find them. The first one made his money bag look less full, without actually extracting any gold. The second was a copy spell, to make a set of keys for Hermione.
Having found the spells, he stepped into Eylop's Pet Emporium, and he bought a large perch for his eagle owl. Back at his flat, he put it up in a corner of the parlor, then let Ras out of his cage. The bird circled the flat a few times before settling.
"What do I need now?" he asked himself. "I just realized I won't have anyone to talk to at all. I hope I don't turn into a lonely old maid with twenty cats who buys a house for each of them, or something."
What he really needed was a job. He couldn't start a real job now, not with his last year at school coming up in two and a half months. He had more than enough money to last him that long. He could probably spend a while on his homework, having received so much of it in preparation for N.E.W.T.s, but he did not want to turn into Hermione…Hermione. He could spend the whole entire summer thinking of her, he knew, but he knew that would be pathetic. He could not lock himself up in a room all summer.
"Why not?"
*Because you'll go crazy, that's why not.* He was right. He would most certainly not come out of August mentally stable if the only thing he thought about for two months was Hermione. He needed a real distraction. That was where the job came in.
"I'll look tomorrow. I haven't slept for too long, now I'm going to sleep for too long."
It was about midday. He had arrived a little after sunrise on the Knight Bus, and spent a few hours in Diagon Alley. Mainly because of the reckless driving, he had been unable to sleep on the bus. He had been awake since the previous morning, and his bed was inviting.
The mattress, covered in soft black sheets, was a springy, cushiony thing. He wondered, as he drifted off, if he could find a spell to turn it into one of those cloudlike cushions from that day in the ror.
************************************************************************
"Name, please?"
"Draco Malfoy."
The manager of Quality Quidditch Supplies looked up at him doubtfully. "Malfoy? So why do you want to work here?"
"Because I need a job," he stated firmly. "I know about Quidditch, so I figured this would be the best place to look for one. I won't even talk if you don't want me to. I'll just work."
The manager still looked doubtful. "All right. If I hire you, you'll probably just be doing odd jobs, and I can only pay you fifty galleons a week right now. It's not much-"
"That's fine," Draco said. "Whatever. But I should probably know what to call you, if I'm going to work here."
"Right. I'm Nicholas Joel. You can call me Nick, everyone else does."
"When do I start?"
"Now, if you want. I have a shipment of Quaffles that need to be checked and stocked, and then I have a special order of robes for the English National team coming in at four o'clock this afternoon."
"I'll take care of it," Draco said, and went to work.
He actually enjoyed the tasks he was given. They gave him a sense of purpose, and kept him from always thinking about Hermione. He most liked working as a store clerk, helping customers find the right broom. When a ten-year-old walked out of the shop, excitedly bouncing, itching to try out his new broom, Draco felt that he had accomplished something.
However, even with his job and his homework, he still found time to brood and sulk. He thought of her whenever he had to look up a fact in a book, thinking that she would probably know the answer off the top of her head. He thought of her the few times he remembered their end of year tests. He thought of her whenever he did something good, knowing that she would be proud of him if she could see. He thought of her when he was feeling like hell, knowing that she would sit with him and lift his spirits.
Merlin, he missed her.
Things got especially interesting when a large barn owl brought him his Hogwarts letter.
~ * Dear Mister Malfoy,
Enclosed is a list of books and supplies you will need for your seventh year at Hogwarts.
Also, I am pleased to inform you that you have been made Head Boy. Because of the nature of your duties and the collaboration required with the Head Girl, you will no longer live in Slytherin House, though you still belong to it. You will share a dormitory with the Head Girl, who for the coming year will be Hermione Granger of Gryffindor House. The two of you will work with the Headmaster to plan certain larger events, and alone for other events, such as Hogsmeade weekends. You will organize all decorations for the castle this year. Also, you will be available to help younger students at all times, and you will oversee detentions.
I hope you are looking forward to your year as Head Boy. See you September 1st!
Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress, Hogwarts School*~
He was looking forward to it, all right. Sharing a dorm with Hermione? He was ecstatic. He was excited. He was picturing all the time they would spend together. He had never wanted to return to school more.
If only she would talk to him.
************************************************************************
On his way to work the next day, he saw none other than Ginny Weasley walking his way. He avoided eye contact, and luckily she said nothing. He went into the store and set to work unpacking a box of bludgers. It was tough to do this without having some bone in his face broken.
As he was putting the last bludger into its restraints, Weasley and her shadow, Finnigan, entered. They both looked incredibly surprised to see him, but when Finnigan started to take a step toward him, Ginny stopped him, and she led him over to the brooms.
This made him wonder. Since when had Ginny been sticking up for *him*? Had Hermione told her about them?
Probably. But probably not on purpose. Weasley had probably found out on her own. She was clever that way…
Merlin, had he just said something complimentary about a Weasley? He really *was* different from what everyone thought.
*Maybe I should get myself a new broom later on. I have enough money. Yes. The brand new model, the Flashstorm, should serve perfectly.* On a level with the Firebolt in quality, it was slightly lower in price, and so would not clean out his entire account. The handle was black, but the tail twigs were of silver birch. Draco thought it would go well in his flat. Besides, he did not want a broom that his *father* bought him.
And so, the day before school began, he treated himself to a brand new Flashstorm and a large ice cream sundae loaded with hot fudge.
End Chapter 24
Ah, angst. Poor Draco.
Thanks, loavely reviewers! You'll never know how much I loveth thee. Um…yeah.
Because Lyra Silvertongue's plug for me in her fic "Pick Up the Pieces" (which you should all go read) was so good, I decided to plug her again. So I did.
Okay, confetti for you all who will now review! Iocane confetti. It's tasteless, odorless, dissolves instantly in liquid, and is among the more deadly poisons known to man. I'm sure you'll find it useful.
It was certainly not the best of times, but it was not quite the worst of times.
In true determined-Draco fashion, he had managed to pass the Apparition test within four days of returning home from his sixth year at Hogwarts. Within this same amount of time, he received a letter from Hermione, which apologized but did not explain anything. He huffed in frustration, only slightly amused by her comments concerning studying for N.E.W.T.s in India.
Draco had not unpacked anything but the clothes he had already worn. A week into summer break, all he had done was practicing spells, flying, and thinking of Hermione. That night, after dinner, his father summoned him to his study.
"Wonderful news, son," Lucius said in his disdainful drawl. "Voldemort has agreed to take you early as one of his followers. You can receive the mark tomorrow night."
************************************************************************
"And you had better watch out, or one day you'll find yourself without a little Mudblood girlfriend to do all your work for you!" Lucius shouted before slamming the door.
At this, Draco stopped in his tracks. He almost turned back, but he resisted the urge to retaliate. He would not give his father that satisfaction. Instead he looked firmly into Ras's eyes, and took a resolute step forward before he realized that he had no idea where he was going.
Sighing, he stuck out his wand arm. He had to jump out of the way to avoid being hit by the triple-decker purple Knight Bus. With a comforting word to Ras, he paid the attendant and dragged his things to the back.
Draco distracted himself from the spinning landscape by wondering where the driver had learned to drive, if you could call it that. After what seemed like forever, they stopped at number 478 Allan Street. The address of his flat.
Draco made sure he had his keys before leaving the bus. His heart was racing with excitement. For a moment he forgot to be depressed, to busy anticipating the appearance of his own, very own, private, owned by him, flat. He had never seen it, even though he had been paying rent on in for the past two months.
It was perfect. The furniture in the parlor was all black, plush, and overstuffed, aside from the tables, which were all of hand-carved ebony. A fireplace of black bricks interrupted one wall. The only color was added by the (magical, of course, so they didn't use electri- electi- plugs) lamps. They were all white porcelain, hand painted with designs of nature. Trees, dragons, and the like. The rug in the center was a deep green, with blue around the border.
The kitchen was a rather modern one, with black marble countertops and a black tile floor, and mahogany cupboards. The sink matched the counters so perfectly that he did not see it at first.
The bathroom was also black, in terms of the toilet, tub, and sink, with a white floor, an ebony-framed mirror, which greeted him jovially when he looked in, white walls with black leaves painted close to the ceiling, and a sliding, translucent glass door for the shower. Draco wondered who had lived here before, who had decorated in such a manner that he found it perfect.
There were two bedrooms. One was all black, but for white walls, and the other was all white with pale blue walls. Naturally, he chose the black one. He unpacked everything, down to the last sock and schoolbook. He wanted this place to really feel like his home.
Immediately he went into Diagon Alley. At Gringotts, he extracted a fair amount of his money, then walked out with the bag bulging.
The first store he entered was Flourish and Blotts. He looked up two spells, though it took him approximately an hour to find them. The first one made his money bag look less full, without actually extracting any gold. The second was a copy spell, to make a set of keys for Hermione.
Having found the spells, he stepped into Eylop's Pet Emporium, and he bought a large perch for his eagle owl. Back at his flat, he put it up in a corner of the parlor, then let Ras out of his cage. The bird circled the flat a few times before settling.
"What do I need now?" he asked himself. "I just realized I won't have anyone to talk to at all. I hope I don't turn into a lonely old maid with twenty cats who buys a house for each of them, or something."
What he really needed was a job. He couldn't start a real job now, not with his last year at school coming up in two and a half months. He had more than enough money to last him that long. He could probably spend a while on his homework, having received so much of it in preparation for N.E.W.T.s, but he did not want to turn into Hermione…Hermione. He could spend the whole entire summer thinking of her, he knew, but he knew that would be pathetic. He could not lock himself up in a room all summer.
"Why not?"
*Because you'll go crazy, that's why not.* He was right. He would most certainly not come out of August mentally stable if the only thing he thought about for two months was Hermione. He needed a real distraction. That was where the job came in.
"I'll look tomorrow. I haven't slept for too long, now I'm going to sleep for too long."
It was about midday. He had arrived a little after sunrise on the Knight Bus, and spent a few hours in Diagon Alley. Mainly because of the reckless driving, he had been unable to sleep on the bus. He had been awake since the previous morning, and his bed was inviting.
The mattress, covered in soft black sheets, was a springy, cushiony thing. He wondered, as he drifted off, if he could find a spell to turn it into one of those cloudlike cushions from that day in the ror.
************************************************************************
"Name, please?"
"Draco Malfoy."
The manager of Quality Quidditch Supplies looked up at him doubtfully. "Malfoy? So why do you want to work here?"
"Because I need a job," he stated firmly. "I know about Quidditch, so I figured this would be the best place to look for one. I won't even talk if you don't want me to. I'll just work."
The manager still looked doubtful. "All right. If I hire you, you'll probably just be doing odd jobs, and I can only pay you fifty galleons a week right now. It's not much-"
"That's fine," Draco said. "Whatever. But I should probably know what to call you, if I'm going to work here."
"Right. I'm Nicholas Joel. You can call me Nick, everyone else does."
"When do I start?"
"Now, if you want. I have a shipment of Quaffles that need to be checked and stocked, and then I have a special order of robes for the English National team coming in at four o'clock this afternoon."
"I'll take care of it," Draco said, and went to work.
He actually enjoyed the tasks he was given. They gave him a sense of purpose, and kept him from always thinking about Hermione. He most liked working as a store clerk, helping customers find the right broom. When a ten-year-old walked out of the shop, excitedly bouncing, itching to try out his new broom, Draco felt that he had accomplished something.
However, even with his job and his homework, he still found time to brood and sulk. He thought of her whenever he had to look up a fact in a book, thinking that she would probably know the answer off the top of her head. He thought of her the few times he remembered their end of year tests. He thought of her whenever he did something good, knowing that she would be proud of him if she could see. He thought of her when he was feeling like hell, knowing that she would sit with him and lift his spirits.
Merlin, he missed her.
Things got especially interesting when a large barn owl brought him his Hogwarts letter.
~ * Dear Mister Malfoy,
Enclosed is a list of books and supplies you will need for your seventh year at Hogwarts.
Also, I am pleased to inform you that you have been made Head Boy. Because of the nature of your duties and the collaboration required with the Head Girl, you will no longer live in Slytherin House, though you still belong to it. You will share a dormitory with the Head Girl, who for the coming year will be Hermione Granger of Gryffindor House. The two of you will work with the Headmaster to plan certain larger events, and alone for other events, such as Hogsmeade weekends. You will organize all decorations for the castle this year. Also, you will be available to help younger students at all times, and you will oversee detentions.
I hope you are looking forward to your year as Head Boy. See you September 1st!
Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress, Hogwarts School*~
He was looking forward to it, all right. Sharing a dorm with Hermione? He was ecstatic. He was excited. He was picturing all the time they would spend together. He had never wanted to return to school more.
If only she would talk to him.
************************************************************************
On his way to work the next day, he saw none other than Ginny Weasley walking his way. He avoided eye contact, and luckily she said nothing. He went into the store and set to work unpacking a box of bludgers. It was tough to do this without having some bone in his face broken.
As he was putting the last bludger into its restraints, Weasley and her shadow, Finnigan, entered. They both looked incredibly surprised to see him, but when Finnigan started to take a step toward him, Ginny stopped him, and she led him over to the brooms.
This made him wonder. Since when had Ginny been sticking up for *him*? Had Hermione told her about them?
Probably. But probably not on purpose. Weasley had probably found out on her own. She was clever that way…
Merlin, had he just said something complimentary about a Weasley? He really *was* different from what everyone thought.
*Maybe I should get myself a new broom later on. I have enough money. Yes. The brand new model, the Flashstorm, should serve perfectly.* On a level with the Firebolt in quality, it was slightly lower in price, and so would not clean out his entire account. The handle was black, but the tail twigs were of silver birch. Draco thought it would go well in his flat. Besides, he did not want a broom that his *father* bought him.
And so, the day before school began, he treated himself to a brand new Flashstorm and a large ice cream sundae loaded with hot fudge.
End Chapter 24
Ah, angst. Poor Draco.
Thanks, loavely reviewers! You'll never know how much I loveth thee. Um…yeah.
Because Lyra Silvertongue's plug for me in her fic "Pick Up the Pieces" (which you should all go read) was so good, I decided to plug her again. So I did.
Okay, confetti for you all who will now review! Iocane confetti. It's tasteless, odorless, dissolves instantly in liquid, and is among the more deadly poisons known to man. I'm sure you'll find it useful.