Dinner
Draco Malfoy sat in his room watching his owl fly around it. Completely bored. His owl, Darkling- named by his father during his days as a Death Eater, in service to the Dark Lord Voldemort, landed on Draco's broomstick.
"Darkling get off! You know you're not supposed to touch that," Draco sat up and reached for his wand. "Don't make me hex you, you pathetic owl creature!"
"Draco! Put down that wand."
In the doorway stood Lucius Malfoy, father of Draco Malfoy. While Lucius stood tall with his long blond hair flowing down his back, Draco stood with a slightly bent back his hair cropped just above shoulder length in a more modern look.
"You know there are only so many times I can get you out of trouble. If you insist on doing magic in the summer at least make it worthwhile," said Lucius as he approached a scowling Draco. "Hexing an owl is not worthwhile, and stop that look. Or I'll hex you!"
"Whatever, father." Draco flipped his wand and then set it down on his desk. "The owl is half dead anyway. Why don't you just get me a new one? It'd work better."
"Because you half wit. You're spoiled, beside Darkling works fine." Lucius turned and walked out of the room. "You should start on your homework, that idiot Dumbledore has his teachers whipped, so they won't except excuses."
Draco sat down and turned his chair toward his desk. He waited until he heard his father's steps heading toward the library before spinning around.
"Homework, what kind of bullshit is that. There are two more bloody months before I'm forced to return to Hogworts." He stood and walked toward a mirror on his wall. (a/n stolen from the mirror sirius gave harry b4 he died, I figured if there is one there has got to be more!)
"Crabbe," he barked into it.
"Ey? Oh hey Malfoy." Crabbe's face appeared in the mirror. "What is it?"
"You heard from Goyle lately?"
"No, the bugger hasn't been returning my calls. You?"
"Same, wonder where he's been. Cancel plans for next week. I got to go to some wizard house with my parents. Turns out they have a daughter my age," Draco ginned. "And here I was thinking I'd met all the witches of pure-blood my age. At least in England."
"Good luck with her, mate." Crabbe winked. Then cocked his head. "I got to go, my mum's calling me for supper."
"Yeah. 'Bout time for that here too. Till later."
Draco pulled out a schoolbook and began to half-heartedly read it. Waiting for the call that came every Saturday.
"Master Draco, dinner is ready." A servant's voice was heard in the hall.
"Damn voice travelers. I hate that new trick," Draco mumbled as he pulled on a clean sweater over his T-shirt. "It was so much easier to ignore them when they walked upstairs, but now they have the bloody power to send their voices across the house."
Draco walked into the dining room and studied the table. Turkey, soup and a triple chocolate cake. His parents sat in their respective seats. His father at the head, dressed in all black, his hair pulled back by a silver clasp. His mother was dressed in a pink dress, probably about the price of a new broomstick. Her blond hair, which was only a few shades darker then the male Malfoy's was done up in an incredible complicated style which gave Draco the impression of a spider web on acid.
"Draco dear, come have a seat." Draco's mother smiled at her only son in what might have been a loving look. "What a quaint sweater, wear ever did you find it?"
"Quaint? That thing has so many holes in it. Why on earth would you wear it to Saturday dinner?" Lucius commented. "Sit down, the food's getting cold!"
Draco sat down and prepared for another long dinner. Filled with passive meanness from his mother and pure disgust from his father.
Lana sat at a table in the kitchen. In front of her was a peanut butter sandwich with a knife slicing it in half, no one was holding the knife.
"Lana! Pick up that knife right now," a portly woman in an apron said. "You know the laws are different in England, especially if you got to Hogworts!"
"Sorry Shaila," Lana reached out and grabbed the knife. "It's so much easier this way. Why worry about physical when you can move it with your mind."
"Well here in England they have a thing called a wand, ducky. You best get used to using that."
"What a waist of wood! Why do I have to get one of those things?" Lana stood and walked her plate to the sink. "They're so pointless. Oh shit! I broke a nail! And I just had them painted this morning!"
"Lana watch your language! Children here don't swear. And you can e sure they don't dress like that!" Shaila walked over to the sink and waved the water on with her wand. The dishes began to clean themselves.
Lana looked down. She was wearing black pants, with a purple belt. A black long-sleeved shirt, and three inch boots. Her red hair hung straight down her back. Her makeup was maybe a little heavy for the posh of England, but it was fine for an American. (a/n why the fuck can't I have red hair?)
"What
are you talking about? I look good!"
"Maybe you American
children run around like that. But don't expect to get away with
that at Hogworts."
"Don't worry. I'm a pro at boarding schools. I understand uniforms and I wear less make up." Lana shook her head. "I'm not stupid Shaila."
"I never said you where ducky."
"Miss Lana?" Lana spun around to see a bowing servant in the kitchen door. "Your parents would like to see you in the common room?"
Lana sighed, "fine."
Lana walked out of the kitchen and down the hallway. It had dim lights, being part of the servant's wing.
"Miss, could you hurry? They sounded like they wanted you in a hurry?" the servant whispered behind her.
"Why do you say everything in the form of a question?"
"Beg pardon?" the servant said. "I'm not quite sure what you mean?"
"Don't you hear yourself. You say everything like you're asking permission to breathe. Stop it. Your a servant not a slave."
"Miss, Miss? Could you please hurry? Your parents sounded urgent?" the servant's voice broke into Lana's thoughts.
"I'm sorry. I must have drifted off." Lana sighed internally, knowing she would never say anything like that.
"There you are dear. How lovely for you to join us. We missed you at dinner." Lana' mother Pauline said from the red velvet seat she was sitting in. Her blue dress was the exact same color as her fathers' tie and waist thing.
"Come in dear. Won't you have a seat" Her father George motioned toward the chair opposite her mothers. "Bernadine would you please get us some tea. Now tell us how are you?"
"First you guys are taking this whole England thing way to seriously. Second I'm fine except for the fact that this town is boring and I miss New York. Third, where is Charlie? And why do I have to be here and not him?"
"Lana, it would be good for you to pick up on some culture. You will be living here until your seventh year." Pauline stopped as Bernadine entered the room. "Thank you dear, we'll serve ourselves. Charlie is out at a pup with some friends he met. It had some odd name, what was it dear?"
"I think the Leaky Cauldron or some other ridiculous name. A pub in London. Very popular I suppose."
"Oh yeah, also one of the ways into Diagon Alley."
"You've heard of it Lana?"
"Well obviously. Since I just told you about it. So why am I here?" Lana took the teas Pauline handed her and began to dump sugar in it. "The questioning maid told me you sounded urgent."
"Well dear, we have some good news," Pauline paused and smiled over at George. "We just received an invitation from a well to do wizarding family here in London. Turns out they have a son around your age who will be attending Hogworts this yea-"
"Not a son my age! I hate boys like that. 'Well to do' is like code for pompous jackass!"
"Lana! Watch your language!"
"Listen I don't want to go! I hate being set up like this. Plus if it's for tea I'll have to dress all fancy. And if it's for dinner I'll have to dress even nicer!"
"Lana now listen. Your mother and I require you to attend. The Malfoys sound very charming and we don't know anybody here. It would be nice to have some friends." George sipped his tea and rocked back and forth, looking everything like a distinguished Englishman.
"Yeas dear, you need to come," Pauline also sipped her tea. "Tomorrow we'll go shopping to find yourself something suitable."
"As long as it's not pink," Lana snarled as she stormed out of the room.