Path Revealed By Moonlight
Author's Notes- Ahh, I am so sorry I took so long to update. Things have been crazy, writer's block, family issues, friend issues, etc etc. I've actually had most of this chapter written for a while...but I since people wanted to see Luna soon I wanted to get all of this in one chapters so I could bring in Luna ASAP, however, after writing this long chapter I've decided to split it into two. Tell me what you guys think, would you prefer longer chapters, or shorter chapters with more frequent updates? Anything to please my readers! Anyway, sorry for delay, here's Chapter Three (and Chapter Four right after)!!! PS- personal responses to reviewers will be placed in Chapter Four, so if you reviewed, I will answer you at the end of the next chapter!
Disclaimer- Ahem, I don't own anything Harry Potter, all belongs to JK Rowling!
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Chapter Three- Of Quidditch and Homework
Draco kicked hard off the ground and shot into the air on his Nimbus 2001. He barely remembered storming through the manor in a cold but numb fury into his room to fetch his broomstick. His heart pounded hard and fast, his eyes were burning glints of steel, and his blood boiled within, though his skin remained pale. As the wind whipped against his face and played through his hair, he could feel the instant calm that came with flying. He released the snitch with a flick of his wand, and sat still in the air for thirty seconds to let it get a good head start in its flighty escape. As he sat on his broom, he surveyed his extensive field that lay behind Malfoy Manor. He had charmed it himself to act like a Quidditch field, with invisible boundaries that kept the snitch within its premises. Beyond his "Quidditch field," Malfoy lands stretched to lush beautiful gardens and large private greenhouses where plants and herbs of the most exotic (and dangerous and highly illegal) nature were grown.
Draco glanced over to the garden nearest the manor, where his mother's house-elf was picking flowers for a bouquet for her mistress. Narcissa herself was seated at a table of fine cherry oak and crystal-clear glass. She added sugar to her tea, stirring her silver spoon in the quaint porcelain teacup. She looked up and smiled as Bellatrix stepped out of the Manor and took a seat across from her. Draco felt his blood boil up once again. How dare they? He fumed in his mind, how dare SHE presume to rank above me in MY home? With a swish of his wand, he released his bludgers from their trunk. He had charmed them to only go after him sporadically, since if he left them alone, they would both chase after him nonstop, him being the only player on the field and all. As if she has ANYTHING worthwhile to teach ME. He tossed his haughty head and tore across the field, in search of the snitch.
I am a Malfoy, and I do NOT take insults lightly, he seethed. He squinted his eyes at the opposite corner of the field, checking if that speck could be his quarry. No, just his eyes playing a trick on him. He continued to fly, I am ready to serve the Dark Lord NOW, I do not need her mediocre training. Dodging one of the bludgers, he turned sideways in the air and spotted the snitch behind him. He turned a quick 180 degrees about-face and tore after the glittering speck. Gaining on his prey, his face scrunched up in concentration, he continued to rage in his mind, I'll show her. I'll show Mother, too. I'm not Lucius Malfoy's son for nothing- his focus broke as the second bludger came up from nowhere and sped ominously towards his face. Swearing, Draco turned his broom and lurched downwards. He felt and heard the bludger whiz through air where his face had been a second earlier and glanced across the field. "Damn," he muttered darkly. In those costly few seconds, the snitch had vanished from sight once again.
Draco swooped upwards and shifted his eyes around the field, searching for his prize. Do they really think Father taught me nothing? He just did not want Mother to worry about my starting too soon. He swerved the first bludger again and circled the center of the field, keeping an eye out for the golden snitch. He thought about all the hours that his father spent hurling hexes at him to "train" him. The corners of his mouth twitched into a smirk. Won't she be in for a little surprise this evening? He suddenly dropped into a dive. He remembered the Quidditch World Final. "Thrilling game, Krum put on," he thought. "But this isn't any Wronski Feint." He continued to drive straight down, concentrating on the flutter of golden wings beneath him. Everyone thinks I'm so useless. He sped up, glaring down at his prey. They'll see. Just a little further. Draco reached out his right arm, his left hand clutched around the handle of his Nimbus 2001. I'm not useless. He pulled out of the dive, right arm raised in victory, the tiny glint of gold fluttering its wings in his hand. They'll regret the day they underestimated Draco Malfoy.
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Draco stepped out of his bathroom for the second time that day, wiping his damp hair with a towel. He glanced at his clock. Half past one. He had missed lunch. Not bad, he thought. This extra Quidditch training would pay off when he beat Gryffindor next year. Draco closed his eyes, savoring the taste of victory he would feel when he finally beat Potter. Saint Potter, he spat in his mind. They'll see how perfect Potter is when he's beat.
He glanced over at his desk and sure enough, there was a tray of lunch waiting for him. He walked over in his robe and grabbed a sandwich. Cramming the warm turkey sandwich into his mouth, he closed his eyes and almost threw himself backwards on the bed. Remembering that Malfoys did not flop themselves onto beds, he carefully sat and laid back, sinking into the soft sheets. Groaning slightly, he took another bite of his sandwich. Forcing his eyes open, he ruefully massaged his sore muscles. "With all this extra work I'm putting in, I better beat Potter next time..." he muttered, glaring at his reflection. He grabbed the glass of pumpkin juice and drank it all in two gulps, swallowing the sweet and refreshing beverage and feeling it slide coolly down his throat. The glass instantly refilled and he took another swig. Setting the glass back down, he grabbed the white linen napkin to wipe his mouth. He groaned and massaged his temples in an attempt to wake himself up. His morning Quidditch training had tired him out, but it did soothe his frustrations.
Draco sat on his bed and gingerly applied some ointment to his calves and arms. He felt good though, despite some soreness. Flying always made him feel better, tired, yes, but in a good way. He looked around his room dully. Now what should he do? Just then, his handsome tan and gray eagle owl flew in through his bedroom window, perching himself onto his master's left shoulder. "Myrddin!" Draco face instantly cracked into a sincere grin, pleased to have his owl back home for company. "Have fun?" He smiled at his pet, stroking his sleek feathers. Absentmindedly, his left hand reached up to play with the moonstone that hung around his neck. He got up and reached into his schoolbag, digging out his bag of Honeydukes' finest owl sweets. He fed one to Myrddin, and walked over to his window, letting his owl onto his perch. Hooting happily, Myrddin pecked at his treat and stretched his wings and shook his feathers.
Draco turned back to his schoolbag and grimaced. "Might as well do some of that summer homework," he decided. He laid on his bed on his stomach and fished out his Transfiguration assignment. Though he was skilled in all his subjects, he detested homework. "We've already finished the bloody OWLs," he grumbled. "What's that McGonagall cow thinking of?" He frowned, looking over the essay question he had copied down. "Discuss the differences and similarities between transfiguring an inanimate object into a different inanimate object and transfiguring an inanimate object into an animate object, such as an animal. Use an adequate number of examples, and be thorough, discussing topics that may include but are not limited to technique, incantation, and spell derivation." His brow furrowed and his forehead wrinkled in disgust. "What the hell is she playing at? Haven't we had enough of this shit pre-OWL? Damn that Muggle-loving supporter, Gryffindor-siding excuse of a professor-" Grumbling and cursing his Transfiguration professor, Draco fished through his bag for his quill and inkbottle. "Three rolls of parchment, that crazy old loon is mad-" Draco frowned. "Loon." Against his own wishes his thoughts began to wander back to that Ravenclaw. He glanced down at the moonstone he had been fingering, and found himself wondering how someone like him could be thinking about some witch like her. Snapping himself out of it, Draco shook his head and again glared at his reflection, hissing at himself, "You stupid prat, get your head out of the fucking gutter. You've got more important things to think about." He turned back to his homework, and grabbed his copy of Transfiguration for the Advanced. Flipping through the pages, he settled into his studies, and soon the only sound heard from his room was the flipping of pages and the scratching of his quill. After a couple of hours, the room was silent.
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Draco opened one eye groggily. "What the-" he grumbled, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. Pushing his blonde hair out of his face, he yawned and glanced at the clock. Quarter past six. "Damn, guess I fell asleep," he sighed and looked down at his essay. Half a roll of parchment. He groaned. "Even better." He pursed his lips and glanced at his notes. "At least I have most of my essay in note form," he muttered, relieved. His head snapped up at the sound of his door opening. Trumpy peeked in.
"Oh good, Master, you're awake," Trumpy shrilled in relief. "Trumpy was afraid he'd have to wake you up again, and Trumpy hates to disturb you, sir."
Draco frowned down at the house-elf. "I don't suppose you'd like to tell me why your dear Mistress sent you to wake me?"
"Why certainly Trumpy tells you, sir," Trumpy squeaked, dipping his head into a low bow. "It is suppertime, Master, or rather...it will be in forty-five minutes, sir."
"Oh." Draco glared down at his house-elf. "Well why didn't you say so, you miserable little bat?" He swiftly kicked the bobbing elf aside and pulled open his wardrobe, scanning his garments.
Trumpy rubbed his backside and bowed a few more times, backing towards the door. "Well then, sir, Trumpy must get back to the kitchens, Trumpy has work, thank you sir, Trumpy is taking his leave."
Pulling out a pair of black slacks and a deep green shirt, Draco rolled his eyes. He glared at the house-elf again, but a smirk played at the corner of his lips. Pointing his wand over his shoulder at Trumpy, he muttered, "Tarantallegra!" Laughing to himself as his house-elf shrieked in surprise, stumbling down the hall in an uncontrollably jerky quickstep, Draco slipped into his clothes. Facing his mirror, he pointed his wand at his hair, and slicked it back neatly. He pulled his silken black robe from his rack and slipped into it, nodding at his reflection. "Perfect." The master of Malfoy Manor tucked his wand into his pocket and stepped out of his bedroom, towards the Dining Room for supper.
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The Mistress of the household seated herself gracefully into her green velvet seat at the head of the long dining table. She shook her white linen napkin with the letter M embroidered in silver thread and placed it elegantly on her lap. Smoothing the wrinkles from her ivory-white dress, she smiled at her son as he strode into the Dining Room. His face expressionless, he bowed his head in respect. "Mother," he greeted her.
"Please, sit, Draco." Narcissa smiled and motioned for him to take the seat at the head of the table opposite her.
He nodded curtly and seated himself. He observed his mother, marveling at her ability to be so unattached. She had barely shown any emotion when she learned her husband was in Azkaban, and she continued her everyday life in the Manor as if nothing had changed, as if Lucius were merely on another business matter with Cornelius Fudge. Draco doubted if his father's absence even made a dent in his mother's existence. She still had the house-elves dust his study every week, still picked his favorite flowers for the vases throughout the manor, and still dressed up every night as if to please him. Tonight she wore a tight-fitting white floor-length gown with pearls lining the border of her off-the-shoulder neckline. Her long sleeves had poufs and from her bare (but not overly-revealing) neck hung a large pearl on a golden chain, a gift from her husband from last Christmas, Draco noted. Her white-blonde hair was pulled up on her head with a pearl-studded hairpin and cascaded to her shoulders in soft golden ringlets. She met his eyes and smiled encouragingly, glancing at the door expectantly. "Almost as if she expects Father to strut in here like every night in the past," Draco thought to himself.
"Ah, my dear, I almost sent a house-elf to fetch you, I hope you did not encounter any problems in the Manor?"
Draco snapped out of his trance and turned his head to the door to see whom his mother was addressing. In an instant, he felt his boil go cold and his stomach heave. Bellatrix Lestrange tramped into the Dining Room, surveying its contents and people as if she, and not its inhabitants, were its Mistress. She wore a black cape draped over her shoulders that parted in front, carelessly revealing a tight leather dress that exposed two inches of cleavage. With each step she took, her breasts threatened to bounce out of the stiff material that held them down. She smiled saucily at her sister, and tossed her head back haughtily, though her hair was actually piled high onto her head in a minutely elegant manner, Draco admitted grudgingly. "Oh, no, Cissa dear, I was just taking my time sprucing up for this...festive meal." She gracefully took in the center between Narcissa and Draco and smiled a horribly innocent smile. "Good evening, Draco," she simpered.
"Nice to have you with us tonight, Aunt Bella," Draco forced out through gritted teeth.
Bellatrix let out a tinkling and shrill chuckle, "Oh thank you very much, dearie," she smiled again at her sister, then turned back to her nephew. "I am very flattered by you and your mother's hospitality, I can't begin to thank you enough for your kindness in letting me join you this summer."
This SUMMER?!??! Draco raged silently in his head, while Narcissa smiled and patted her sister's hand, murmuring, "Oh, it is nothing, Bella, you know you are welcome in our home." She shot her son a warning glance. "After all," she continued, with a grateful smile, "it is we who should be thanking you for so generously agreeing to help my Draco with his training." She gave her son a hard look, and asked sharply, "Aren't we, Draco, dear?"
Draco tried to swallow the rock that seemed to have built up in his throat. Don't be weak, he reminded himself. He met his mother's glare and quailed underneath her glare. Forcing himself to look at his aunt, he muttered, "Yes, thank you very much."
Narcissa smiled pleasantly and took a bite of the salad Trumpy had placed in front of her, while Bellatrix's dark eyes flashed in pleasure and malevolence. "Your VERY welcome, Draco, dear," she crooned, smirking.
Draco felt anger boiling his blood and dread cooling his organs all at the same moment. His stomach heaved uncomfortably. It was going to be a long summer. Thank Merlin I can control my outer appearance, he thought gratefully. He snuck a glance at his Aunt, who was sipping her soup in a ladylike manner and chatting amiably with his mother. As if waiting for him to peek at her, she met his gaze and smirked. Draco Malfoy's blood boiled and froze in ominous dread. He may have looked as cool and unruffled as an ice sculpture, but inside, though he couldn't understand why, nor would he ever admit it, he was worried.
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Author's Notes: I've split the chapter here, click the button for chapter four! Oh and don't forget to review! -Jess