Please see Chapter 1 for Disclaimers and warnings.
Draco studied his nails in boredom as the Ministry Officials began to question Gringott's current Head Goblin. It would seem that, days before his capture, Lucius Malfoy had been seen leaving the bank toting a rather large brown-paper package. The contents of said package had not yet been confirmed, as Narcissa claimed to have no knowledge of her husband's visit to Diagon Alley that day.
"And so you have no idea what might have been taken?"
"I do not know, nor did I ask. Our customers' business is their own."
The aged Goblin was looking down his nose at the darkly robed official, a woman named Rowena Sprigs. Her hair was jet black, drawn high into a harsh bun, and her nose was long and slightly crooked. Her fingers were slender, tipped with long nails, and she wore no make-up. She was, perhaps, a little too old for field work with the Ministry, but Draco supposed that this was due to the recent overhaul of all of the Ministry's departments. In an effort to stave off his own imminent dismissal by the unsatisfied populace of the Wizarding world, Minister Fudge had quickly vowed at the beginning of the summer to find, and hold accountable, those responsible for hiding the truth of Voldemort's return.
Several Witches and Wizards in the lower rungs of the establishment had immediately been fired, including a few of Fudge's closest advisors.
Draco's musings were cut off when his mother tapped his elbow and motioned for him to follow her.
With a sigh he twisted on his booted foot and trudged after his thankfully silent mother and Rowena Sprigs. Ms. Sprigs' assistant, who'd introduced herself as Tamara Hogg, pushed her designer spectacles up on her nose and followed after them a few moments later. She was currently scribbling notes down in a parchment, and her interest annoyed Draco to no end. She was young, about twenty, and thin and blonde. She had green eyes, not as vivid as Potter's, his mind supplied, with a nasty slide on the name of the person he hated most in the world. Her robes were a muted, rich red, and when she walked supple, light tan boots peeked from under the hem. He could have considered her quite pretty, if it weren't for those awful green eyes.
Disgusting.
The trip was shorter than he remembered, but he'd been forced to sit in the second cart with Ms. Hogg while his mother sat with the elder Ministry Official. Narcissa was doing her best to schmooze the elder woman, who was having none of it, and the whole situation further annoyed Draco.
But then, everything annoyed Draco these days.
Leaning into him, finally giving her quill a rest, Tamara Hogg whispered to Draco, "Now that we're alone, I have to ask, Draco. Do you have any idea what your father took from the family vault?" Her eyes skipped up to the cart in front of them, then quickly fell back on him. She smiled encouragingly.
Not bothering to hide his sneer, Draco responded, "No. Maybe you should ask him, since you have him in custody. And don't call me by name."
Her eyes narrowed and her voice pitched up a bit, but softened when Narcissa looked back, "there's no call to be rude, Mr. Malfoy. We're merely trying to get to the bottom of this mystery."
"I can't help you, and I don't know why you think I would. He's my father."
She harrumphed and, with one last glare, went back to scribbling on her scroll. Draco looked over the edge of the cart into the murky darkness. A flash of tail and big, sharp teeth caught his eye, and he raised an eyebrow and focused, trying to get a better look.
The cart gave a lurch as it finally came to a stop in front of a familiar vault door, and Draco waited patiently as Ms. Hogg disembarked. The Goblin who'd accompanied them held his light aloft and Narcissa marched forth, smiling winningly at Ms. Sprigs.
"I'll have the vault open in just a moment, but remember, there's a visual charm on the treasure. Lucius," she paused, and then her smile became forced as Ms. Sprigs and Hogg exchanged a knowing look, "wanted to make sure any potential thieves overlooked our vault."
"Indeed," Ms. Sprigs intoned gravelly.
Narcissa stood back as the vault door sprung open.
Turning her wand on herself, Ms. Sprigs performed the revealing spell Narcissa supplied her with and then performed it on her assistant.
Narcissa motioned for the young Goblin to remain outside and then smiled winningly at Ms. Sprigs, "after you."
Draco kicked aside a stack of galleons as he waited for the two officials to finish looking through the items in their vault. He tried to ignore the questions being thrown around over his family's every possession, tried to ignore his mother's pandering and sunny smile, tried to ignore looks he got from Ms. Hogg every time he picked something up, and really tried to ignore the lies that occasionally popped out of his Narcissa's mouth.
"There's no magic done on that particular vase, as far as I know," was the latest, and Ms. Sprigs nodded, replacing the object and giving Narcissa a questioning look.
"Is this all of it?"
"Yes," was Narcissa's quick reply, but Draco, smirking, interrupted her.
"No, there's another room."
Narcissa scowled at him, but Ms. Hogg smiled encouragingly once more. Sighing inwardly, Draco made his way back to the empty cupboard and tapped on the back wall of it with his wand.
Ms. Sprigs gave Narcissa hard look before lighting her wand and stepping into the darkness. Ms. Hogg followed her through and Narcissa came after, throwing a dark look at her son as she passed by him.
They stood before Loki's portrait for a moment in silence before Ms. Hogg turned to Narcissa.
"This is it?"
"Ye-"
"This is the doorway to the next chamber. There should be a painting here, though," Draco murmured, studying the empty portrait. Loki was nowhere in sight, and the bookcase in the background was in disarray. Books were strewn all over the painted carpet, some sprawled open and some tossed in a pile together. "Loki?"
There was a stirring in the paint, and then a hand reached over and grasped the edge of the desk. Loki Malfoy pulled himself into the painting, hair wild, right hand wrapped around a decanter of what appeared to be Port, and growled at them, "What?"
Narcissa stepped back in shock as the two other ladies exchanged looks. Draco cocked his head to the side before shaking it in confusion, "Loki? Will you let us in?"
Loki squinted at him, then blinked a few times and straightened up, "Draco? Little Draco?"
"You remember me?"
"Of course I remember you. It was an unforgettable visit." He drew short of explaining at Narcissa's cold look, which Draco missed, and then sighed. "Right. Come on, then."
The portrait swung open abruptly and a smooth male voice spilled out of the interior cave.
"-think it's about time we did something!"
"Visitors!" A feminine voice sounded in warning, and silence descended.
Narcissa led the group into the circular cavern and introduced the women with them to the rest of the nine portraits. The space across from Loki was bare, Narcissa affirming that it had always been that way as Loki scowled at her after swinging shut behind them. Beside the empty space was Nyx Malfoy, wife of Damien who was placed beside Loki and directly across from her. Then there was Evan Malfoy, the youngest Malfoy heir to be placed in the cave, across from his wife Eirene. Willis came next, across from Nereid, and lastly, there was Liam, scowling at Loki and directly across from his wife, the harsh Maened.
Draco had done a lot of studying into his family's history, and turned on Loki. "Why isn't your wife hanging across from you?"
Ms. Sprigs and Ms. Hogg looked immediately interested, but Loki took another drink and waved a hand. "She wasn't painted."
"Why not? You know, I've heard almost nothing about her... I haven't even read her name-"
"I don't want to talk about it. Now, what are you all doing here? Going to make yourself a wish and get a bride?" It was sneered at him, but behind Draco, Ms. Hogg gasped and immediately perked up.
"This is where the Malfoy Ambition is kept! Oh! I've read so much about it! Is it true that it actually chooses each generation of Malfoy brides?"
Narcissa smiled winningly, "only for the Malfoy heir. Draco's going to be using it next year. Or... that was the plan," she trailed off and Draco rolled his eyes as Ms. Sprigs tutted in sympathy.
"It must be so hard, discovering your husband was working so closely with the Dark Lord. Helping him recover and bringing him back into the Wizarding world-"
Nereid screeched, interrupting the conversation, "Tommy's back?!"
Coughing, Nyx drew attention from the skimpy blonde. "Lucius was working for the enemy? I don't believe it. Have you proof?"
Ms. Sprigs drew herself up sharply and sniffed at Nyx, "of course we have proof. We wouldn't have imprisoned him if we were in any doubt as to his involvement with the Dark Lord."
"Azkaban?" gasped Maened, and from where he stood Draco's hand wrapped into a fist and his teeth clenched.
"But he was just here," Willis argued, and Narcissa groaned. Ms. Hogg and Ms. Sprigs immediately focused their attention on Willis.
"You saw him? Did you see him remove anything from this vault?"
"I really don't think-" Narcissa tried to interrupt, but Ms. Sprigs glared at her.
"Um..." Willis exchanged looks with his grandmother, Nyx, who looked to be holding her breath.
From behind Draco, Loki's voice interrupted them. "Salazar Slytherin."
"I beg your pardon?" Ms. Sprigs turned on him.
Loki gestured at the empty wall across from him, "a portrait of Salazar Slytherin hung there, and Lucius took it."
Narcissa hissed at him, and Loki smirked at her. Ms. Sprigs turned to the angry woman with a raised eyebrow. "I thought you said there'd never been a portrait there."
Narcissa scowled at Loki before her face cleared and she shrugged nonchalantly. "I haven't been here for a while. I must have forgotten about it."
It was clear she wasn't believed (and who would forget a portrait of Salazar Slytherin was in their vault?), and Ms. Hogg's scribbling started up furiously.
"Mrs. Malfoy, I have attempted to be as accommodating as possible. I was feeling very sympathetic to your situation. Finding yourself a single mother and discovering that your husband is a criminal was, I felt, rather traumatic enough for you. However," her face darkened, "I get the feeling you've been lying to me. As of Monday afternoon the contents of the Malfoy vault will be property of the Ministry of Magic, and each and every item will be tested for traces of the Dark Arts."
"What?!" Narcissa screeched, "You can't do that! We'll be penniless!"
"I'm sure you'll manage," Ms. Sprigs murmured, and then turned to her assistant. "Tamara, make a note that we need to have the paperwork drawn up for the seizure of all property belonging to the Malfoy estate." She threw a scathing look at Narcissa, "I'm sure that once the Minister gets wind of this, he'll want to have a look at the Manor as well."
"You heartless bitch!" Narcissa was spluttering at this point, but Ms. Sprigs ignored her and turned to Loki's portrait.
"I believe we're done here. Thank you for your help."
With a wave of her hand, the portrait swung open and the two officials stepped through and made their way out of the vault. Narcissa stood for a moment, chest heaving, indignant, before rounding on her son.
"You!" she stepped quickly to him. "'No, there's another room,'" she mimicked, "we could have avoided this entirely! What were you thinking?!"
"I was thinking, Mother, that lying to the authorities was a bad idea. And, it seems I was correct."
"Don't speak to me in that tone of voice, young man! You've been insufferable ever since you returned from that school! I'm under a lot of stress, Draco, and I need you to support me!"
"Support you?" He was yelling now, "You've just lost my inheritance! Father's been arrested! The family name has been blackened almost beyond recognition! When was the last time you were invited to a social event?"
The vehemence of his outburst took Narcissa aback, and the pictures began to exchange uneasy looks. Damien looked coldly on as Mother and Son argued.
"We're thinking of your future, Draco!" Narcissa shouted back, "Once Lord Voldemort takes control, the Malfoys will be held as royalty-"
"Takes control!" Draco interrupted, "Are you insane? The man was nearly killed by a baby. He's since been beaten by that same child five years in a row. His plans have been foiled at every turn, and you and father still follow after him and simper like idiots!"
Narcissa hissed out a breath and straightened up, "I don't have to listen to this, Draco-"
"I rather think, Narcissa, that the boy has a point," Damien interrupted her, voice cold. "It sounds as if you and Lucius have made choices which have done more to bring ruin to our family than any other generation of Malfoy."
"Shut up! I don't have to listen to you! You're a portrait! And you," she rounded on Draco, "are my son. Take a moment, Draco, to gather yourself. I'll be waiting in the other vault."
Draco scowled at nothing as his mother moved swiftly past him, waiting until he heard Loki's portrait swing shut before letting his breath out. His hand balled back up into a fist and he brought it down roughly on the table in the center of the cavern, barely noticing as the Ambition tumbled to the floor, covered by its plush, red pillow.
When his anger finally abated, Draco knelt and picked up the fallen objects, replacing first pillow, then ring. He paused and ran his right index finger over the large diamond, sighing.
He then turned on his boot and exited the room.
His mother didn't look at him when he entered the main vault, merely motioned for him to close the Ambition's entrance and swept from the room. Draco settled silently in the boat next to her. She stared straight ahead, not acknowledging him, and he felt his anger flag.
"I'm sorry."
She stiffened and continued to look forward at Ms. Sprigs and Ms. Hogg.
"I really am sorry, Mum."
"Draco," she sighed, relaxing but still not looking at him, "I understand that you're angry. You have every right to be. But you must understand that everything I've done, I've done because I love you. Your father loves you too. You'll see, Draco. Things will be fine."
She didn't look over at him during her discourse, focusing on a point somewhere above Ms. Sprigs' shoulder.
He looked away, eyes lowering, and then leaned into his mother's warmth. He wished that he could believe her.
A moment later, he felt a soft kiss pressed against the top of his head and he smiled slightly. "Well, they won't be closing our vault until Monday, according to Ms. Sprigs. Let's go shopping. It'll make us feel better."
There was silence in the cavern, and then the clink of a decanter against a glass tumbler.
"I think," Damien said, "that it is high time we did something about this situation."
Looking up from his sketch, Evan narrowed his eyes. "Do you think that now is the best time to interfere? There's so much going on..."
"Narcissa has crossed me for that last time, and I've warned her often enough to watch her mouth around me," Damien firmly returned. "And I'm sure my son would like to see Salazar again."
Loki paused in the middle of tossing back his drink, then shrugged, setting it down without draining it. "I suppose that it's obvious that I miss him."
Nereid giggled, and Eirene smiled brightly at Loki.
Damien nodded shortly, and then met his wife's eyes, raising an eyebrow, "Darling?"
In her portrait, Nyx smiled slowly, darkly, and extended a hand toward the empty room. A slender finger pressed against the air and, after a slight push, solidified into flesh from paint. Her left hand curled around the gilded frame, thumb transforming to flesh, as her right arm extended out into the empty air. Soon she was stepping from the portrait and straightening her clothes, exchanging a viciously smug look with her husband. She turned to Evan's portrait and ran her fingers along the base, then took a turn around the room until she'd touched every portrait. Soon, the Malfoy family began to emerge from their portraits in the same manner, all save Loki.
Evan hugged his wife and kissed the top of her head. Willis and Nereid exchanged a heated kiss. Liam and Maened scowled at each other. Damien extended his arm to Nyx. "Come, family. Let us see what we can do."
They lined up in front of Loki's portrait and he backed up into it, dragging his decanter off to the side and sweeping low into a welcoming bow. Each Malfoy stepped over the edge of the frame and into Loki's portrait, making their way to his bookcase. As Liam passed Loki, he grabbed the nearly empty decanter from his father's loose grip. Once they were all gathered within, Loki selected a book from one of the few still left upon the shelf and tipped it back. The bookcase slid over to reveal a black hole and Damien led his family into it. Loki was the last to walk through the painting's secret exit, looking back into the Ambition's little vault and smirking, and then the bookcase slid shut after him.
Silence fell in the vault, and soon the room darkened with no presence there to ensure it remained lit. And so, there was no one to see that night as the Malfoy Ambition shimmered out of reality, bursting into sparks of blue and gold light, disappearing into nothing.
It was night again, deep and dark, and Harry couldn't see the stars. He rode lazily on the wind, circling the empty field, feeling nothing of the happiness that being in the air usually brought him. There were no cheers, no teammates, no bludgers and no quaffles. There was no hint of laughter in the breeze and no thrill of joy with every dip and swirl he made through the night sky.
There was a movement, sharp and fleeting, in the corner of his eye, and Harry whirled on the grandstands. There in the shadows, stood a figure. Harry could barely make out... something familiar in the face of his audience. A hand stretched from the shadows... fingers wrapped around a golden ball. Fluttering, snow-white wings peeked out from between the man's fingers.
"Harry..."
It was spoken in a strong, familiar voice, and Harry froze, breath flying out of him on a whisper, "... Sirius?"
"Harry..."
"Sirius!" his broom jolted forward at his shout, and Harry was flying faster than he'd ever flown before. The wind whipped around his ears, his Quidditch robes flapping behind him. "Sirius! You're alive!"
But no matter how fast he flew, the grandstands weren't any closer. "Sirius!" Harry shouted once more, "what is this?"
Suddenly the wind was sucked from around him and Sirius' voice was whispering in his ear, "This, Harry, is your destiny..."
Sirius' outstretched hand uncurled from the snitch and it paused there for a moment, hovering inches over his palm. There was a loud crack as if lightening had struck and then the snitch was flying straight for Harry.
Hitting his forehead with a whack, the colliding object caught him off balance and he tumbled to the pitch below.
With a groan, Harry sat up. There was a soft fluttering against his cheek, and he absently reached his left hand up to grab at the Snitch. With his right hand he rubbed forehead, eyes opening in a painful wince. The Snitch settled into his grip and wrapped its wings around itself, beginning to pulse a shimmering blue. The gold ball began to melt in his hand, and Harry gaped at it as the wings refracted from feathers to pure light. Soon, a pool of liquid gold slithered through his fingers as the soft, white light hovered in the air where the Snitch had been.
The streams of molten gold ran down his arm and began to drip from his elbow, each drop of gold blinking into golden sparks of light before fizzling out. Soon, the only gold on his arm was pooled around his left ring finger, and it began to harden and take shape. Two tiny, delicate snake heads formed at each end of the band and Harry lifted his hand slightly to get a better look. The still hovering white light sharpened then, and solidified into... crystal? Glass? Diamond. Each snake head took one side of the hovering diamond in its gentle grip, and finally the ring settled down onto Harry's finger.
"Sirius?" Harry whispered in confusion, then his head shot up to search the grandstands eagerly for a sign of his Godfather.
There was no one.
Looking back down at the ring around his finger, Harry became entranced by the moonlight reflected in the diamond, and nearly didn't hear his name being called...
"Harry..."
"... Harry..."
"Boy! Get down here! Breakfast is almost ready, and you have chores to do before lunch!"
Harry slammed upright in his bed, blinking rapidly, trying to see past the blur. His eyes struggled to focus, and in the end he gave up squinting and reached for his glasses on the little table beside his bed. His fingers reached up under the thick frames to rub the sleep from his eyes, which narrowed in confusion at the dull clink of plastic against metal.
Gold.
Gold and diamond.
Finally, his sleep weary eyes focused, and then stared in incomprehension at the ring upon his finger.