A/N Okay, this is my first fanfic, so please R&R. This was born on a bus ride from a retreat at our school, thanks to my friend Sam, aka SamAbberline. TTYL!
Disclaimer: JK owns everything, except for the house.
The lanky seventeen-year old paced the floor in a rage, the face that so many girls swooned over twisted furiously, occasionally throwing some decoration at the wall. He muttered to himself constantly, having no one else to talk to about the indignity of the situation. Finally, he exhausted himself and sank down on to the huge bed attached to the wall. Fingering the green and white bedspread, his lip curled in a sneer. At least the muggles had a good sense of taste in color. Lying down, he stared at the ceiling and drifted into an uneasy sleep.
Flashback"I have to WHAT??" Draco strode across the Headmaster's office angrily, fuming. "I REFUSE to live with. . . with muggles." He threw himself into a chair and glared malevolently at the hatefully calm Dumbledore sitting across from him.
"Mr. Malfoy, I know you have a . . . dislike . . . for the non-wizarding community, but I'm afraid you have no choice. You do recall last year. You made your father quite angry."
Draco paused in his rage. The year previously, that Potter boy had defeated Voldemort and died in the effort. Lucius Malfoy had killed him, in a rage because of the death of his master. Humiliated at the capture of his family, Draco had publicly renounced his entire family as Death Eaters. His father, thrown in Azkaban as a result, had been pissed. Recently, however, he had managed to escape. No one knew how, but all of the old supporters of the Dark Lord had banded themselves around Lucius Malfoy, and were expected to become a formidable force once again – and Draco's father was set on revenge. Now Dumbledore had devised a plan involving getting Draco as far away as possible from his father until the initial danger was over. Not only was Draco upset at the thought of not being the one to kill his father, but he also did not want to have to live with muggles. "Filthy, stupid mudbloods," he thought savagely, still staring at Dumbledore. He realized that the old man had been speaking and hurried to tune in.
". . . in a very nice neighborhood. Not in England, of course, but I think you'll rather like California. We've got you a place in a town called. . . Woodplace? Roughside? Woodside, I think it is. Anyways, you'll soon find out. You shall be escorted to Hogsmeade, where you may Apparate directly to your new home. Good luck, Mr. Malfoy."
End Flashback
Draco woke with a start. Glaring around the room as though daring it to defy him, he gave up. I may as well look around at my new 'home'. He'd been quite astonished when he discovered that he was not to be living in a mansion. Admittedly, it was slightly better than some of the hovels he'd seen going over Wisconsin, but it was definitely trading down from Malfoy Manor. I mean, this place doesn't even have a name! Sighing, he got off the bed, almost slamming into the door, although they were a good three feet apart. The door opened on to a spacious room, facing south. The bed, which faced east, looked over a window that would show the sunrise every morning. Draco was shocked to find himself looking forward to this. He was a Malfoy – they did not watch the sunrise or sunset!! Shaking his head to put his thoughts back to normal, he tore his gaze away from the window. A couch and two chairs were grouped around a large, circular footrest, with a – what was it called? A Muggle-vision? He was pretty sure it was called a TV, but he didn't know what to stand for. Anyways, it actually looked fairly cozy. The walls had green paint on them, a fact he noted with pleasure.
A creak sounded behind him. Whirling around as he pulled his wand out, he saw that there was another door behind him. Doorway, more like, since there didn't actually seem to be a door attached. Halfway through curling his lip into his trademark smirk at this conspicuous absence of a basic appliance, he stopped. Stepping back, he realized that he rather liked it better without the door there. Glancing to his left, he noticed that there was another doorway on the other side of the bed. He stepped through the one closest to him and looked around. The other doorway he had seen was just on the other side of a short hall, perhaps six feet across. Next to him, along the other side of the wall that had the bed on it, was an ancient Chinese dresser, and in front of him was a large cabinet. He opened it to find that it contained more muggle-ware. Across from the other doorway was one of the most beautiful sights he had ever seen. An entire row of mirrors. He opened them and discovered well-organized closets hidden behind them. Right between the cabinet and the mirrors was the bathroom, with a large shower, a bath, two sinks and a toilet.
Leaving what he supposed was the master bedroom (although it did not compare in the least with the one he had been staying in up until his return to Hogwarts), he entered the upstairs hallway. Four rooms branched off of it. Entering the first one, he found it rather bland. It was large and airy with a red sleigh bed in it, but it held no interest for him. Perhaps it was because the red bedspread and yellow wallpaper reminded him of Gryffindor and Potter too much. He suppressed a lurch of guilt. Remembering the look on the littlest Weasel's face when her icon – and ex-boyfriend – had been killed was painful, even though it wasn't his fault. Draco quickly exited the room and found himself back in the hall. A staircase descended to the lower level, but he didn't go down them yet. The room nearest the one he had just been in was boring – a . . . what was it called? Ah, yes, and ironing board – sat in the middle of the narrow room, and nothing else except for a table and a few drawers.
The next room was not much more interesting. He crossed the hall and entered the room farthest away from the stairs. Once again, a large and airy room, this one with two beds and little else. He closed the door and snorted. A "No Dumping" sign was taped to the outside.
This last room – now this one was vaguely fascinating. The door was shut, but had a picture of a little girl on it, with long, dark brown hair and a flower tucked behind her ear. Around that were nine or ten little pieces of paper with – he moved closer – fortunes on them. So perhaps muggles did have fortune-telling after all! He opened the door and stepped inside. Immediately, his head spun. The room was split-level, with some of the weirdest dimensions he had ever seen. A bed with a black-and-white duvet was six feet in front of him, next to a bedside table and dresser. A window sat quaintly on the other side of the bedside table, which held a lamp, a muggle device called . . . was it a phone? . . . and a jewelry box. At the foot of the bed was another dresser leaning against the wall, facing towards door through which Draco had just entered. Still standing in the doorway, he swung his head to the right – a door leading to a closet – and to his left – a bookshelf crammed with books and memorabilia. Just past the bookshelf were three doors – another closet. The closet was directly opposite the dresser at the foot of the bed. Between them and slightly away from the bed was a desk, the messiest of which Draco had ever seen. A black . . .computer? was the centerpiece, and above and around it was a shelf with pictures, stickers, and assorted pieces of paper with pictures and words on them. In addition, there was a laminated paper that said "Diploma" in it, scattered books, and a stereo. He looked more closely at the papers with words on them. They were taped onto the shelf. Four of them said 'Nirvana' with another word on it – Nevermind, In Utero, Bleach, and Incesticide. Another said 'Who Are You' with a picture of four men lounging in a workroom, and the final said 'The Clash'.
Mystified as to what these might be, Draco shook his hair out of his face to examine the pictures. Both featured what may have been an older version of the girl on the door, perhaps early or mid-teens. The hair was shorter and slightly more blonde, and she had thinned out nicely from the other picture, but other than that, she looked remarkably unchanged. He would probably shag her, given the opportunity. A beautiful amethyst hung down from the top shelf towards the computer, catching the feeble sunlight and casting blood red droplets of light dancing on the desk. Behind the desk was a balcony-type area, looking down approximately five feet to the rest of the room. Three stairs descended into the lower portion, which had another TV (what did that stand for?) and – he did a double-take – a life-size cutout of a sneering man with blonde hair that so resembled Draco himself that his jaw dropped for a fleeting instant. He quickly regained his composure and glanced around casually, as though someone may have seen him. Going back towards the two stairs, he saw a bathroom and went inside. An assortment of bottles was scattered about on the counter, next to another large shower and another mirrored door. This one was locked.
A flash lit the tiled room and Draco quickly looked up. Outlined against a window in the ceiling – who would put a window on the ceiling of a bathroom?? – was a brilliant gold feather with a roll of parchment. Seizing it before it hit the ground, he pulled it open so quickly he was afraid it might rip. It was a note from Dumbledore, explaining that the house belonged to a family with three girls. They were currently on summer vacation in the U.K. and should return in about a month. The headmaster was hoping that Lucius would be defeated by then, but, if not, he would try to convince the family to allow Draco to stay with them. The oldest daughter would be suitable as a Secret-Keeper. Dumbledore concluded the letter, "Feel free to explore the house and surrounding gardens, they all belong to the family. And please, Draco, stay unnoticed." Almost as soon as Draco finished the letter, it burned in his hands. He sighed and left the room to continue examining the house.