Author's Notes: You know that Lucius can't be seemingly nice for too long (he'd probably implode!) Don't worry, Draco will have his chance at being a brat, too.

The reference to Draco's British Muggle literature homework is, of course, the novel "The Lord of the Rings" by J.R.R. Tolkien. Sorry. I couldn't resist.

The tradition that wealthy English families used to marry cousins to keep wealth and land in the family is true and came from my British Literature class. I see the Malfoys as being traditional and extremely old-fashioned.

Please review and tell me what you think!

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Chapter Six

Malfoy Manor was originally built as a castle, and the stone used had been magically turned white, with tiny flakes of gold that ran through it so that the castle walls shimmered in direct sunlight. It had been magically and mundanely added to and renovated many times. It was a strange mixture of the archaic, such as the dungeons, and the modern, such as the swimming pool and hot tubs. There were seven levels of rooms that seemed to go on forever. Every room was enchanted in some way, or was filled with magical items that the Malfoys had collected on their many travels. To my relief, I didn't see anything that looked remotely cursed or dangerous. Mrs. Malfoy loved giving parties, and she threw many banquets, baby showers, charity balls for St. Mungo's hospital and holiday gatherings here.

As Mr. Malfoy guided me through the castle, he lectured me about his family's history. He told me more about my father and mother. He explained how pureblood wizarding families were practically dying out. Wizards and witches without the taint of Muggle blood were becoming harder and harder to find, and it was critical to guard our pureblood heritage.

"If that isn't bad enough, some of the pureblood families are "blood traitors" like those wretched Weasleys, who insist on fraternizing with scum." Mr. Malfoy bit out. "Are you listening to me, Miriel?"

"Mmm hmm." I murmured dreamily. "Scum." I felt like I was back in school, listening to a very long-winded teacher. I was suffering from information overload.

Among English Wizards and Muggles alike, an old tradition was that wealthy families kept their land, wealth and power within their own bloodlines by marrying cousins, and this had become even more important to pureblood wizards during these difficult times. Mr. Malfoy had many distant cousins, but only a few were girls and much too young for Draco. It had become almost impossible to find anyone suitable for Draco to marry. By then we were strolling in the courtyard garden. The noon sun was warm on my shoulders, the rich scent of roses and fruit hung heavily on the air, and even though I nodded sleepily to what he said, I was only paying half attention.

I stubbed my foot on something in a clump of grass. I thought my foot had struck a rock, but to my surprise, whatever it was squealed. A little creature ran out into the open. It was small and leathery looking, with a knobby, bald head exactly like a potato.

"Meanie! Meanie!" The little potato-thing squealed. It tried to kick my ankle.

"Mr. Malfoy, what is that?"

"Oh, how disgusting. How did that get in here? It's a garden gnome, my dear. Don't touch it, they have nasty teeth. Dinky!" He bellowed at one of the house elves, who had been pulling up weeds. "De-gnome this garden at once. Strengthen the gnome-repellent spells around the garden. Honestly, some days these house elves are just worthless." The elves ran to chase the gnome, and we continued walking.

Before he started lecturing again, I decided to ask the question that had been nagging me throughout the day. "Mr. Malfoy, how long were you planning on having me stay here?"

"That depends on you, my dear. I wanted you to visit so you could see the possibilities you have. You are, of course, free to leave at any time. I'll gladly take you back to New Orleans if you wish, but I think that would be a mistake. I can offer you more options for your life than living like that. You can't even begin to imagine the power and ability you could possess. The wizarding world can be a most marvelous place, but it can also be cruel and treacherous." Mr. Malfoy's voice seemed to purr and curl around me, and I found myself mesmerized. He stopped walking, and he took my hand in his. "Never forget this, Miriel, knowledge and power are most important in the wizarding world. I can help you to obtain both." His hand grazed my cheek, and as he looked down at me, his silvery eyes were filled with mystery and promise.

Suddenly the air was filled with a trill of beautiful music. It rippled on the air like liquid gold that was filled with light and warmth. A huge, red bird floated over the trees like a living flame with its wings stretched out for several feet. It carried what looked like an envelope in its beak. Before I could speak the bird swooped down and landed on my shoulder. It was so heavy I felt myself lurch sideways, and had to hold up my arm so it would have room.

"What's it doing?" I cried. I was too afraid to move.

Mr. Malfoy snarled and lunged at the bird. The bird hopped onto my head, its claws digging painfully into my scalp.

"Stop, you're scaring it!" I backed up hastily.

"Stand still!" Mr. Malfoy reached up and after an intense struggle, ripped the envelope out of the bird's beak. "Ouch! Damned bird." When he withdrew his hand, it was dripping blood where the bird had bitten him. He immediately opened the envelope, and swiftly scanned the letter inside. "That meddlesome, senile old fool. Why can't he just mind his own bloody business?"

I caught a glimpse of my name written in green ink on the front of the envelope. "Hey, that letter's for me." Who in the world would be writing me a letter, and sending it like this?

Mr. Malfoy just sneered at me and stalked off, crushing the letter in his fist. That left me alone with the bird. Its weight shifted on top of my head.

"You're not going to poop on me, are you?" I asked it nervously. The bird flew off my head and landed on a nearby tree branch. It trilled and looked at me reproachfully, as if it could understand exactly what I said. I realized that such a beautiful and obviously magical creature would never do such a thing. After a few moments, it flew off.

"It is lunch time, Missy." A house elf came and ushered me inside to a well-lit circular dining room that was wallpapered with English roses. After a moment Draco strode into the room and sat at the table next to me. He seemed much more confident than he had in New Orleans, if such a thing were possible. The sunburn that had scorched his creamy skin was gone. The cuts and bruises on his faces had completely healed. He wore robes of deep, midnight blue that swirled around his legs. They showed off his luminous coloring well, and I must admit that I suddenly found myself a little shy.

"You're, um, looking much better." I tried not to cringe at how lame that sounded.

"You're looking much better to me, too, now that you're a witch and no longer a pathetic, unworthy Muggle." He smirked, his eyes flickering over me. To my surprise, he lifted my hand and kissed the back of it.

I was surprised at the jolt of pleasure that raced down my spine, and I could feel my cheeks grow hot. "This place is amazing," I finally said. "It's the strangest and most beautiful castle I've ever seen. Not that I've seen many, of course. No wonder you're so spoiled."

A strange half smile caught the corner of his mouth. He glanced around him. Mr. Malfoy was busy in the hall going through a pile of mail that had been waiting for him. "Well, you need to know that nothing's free with my father," he told me. "Everything has to be paid for, sooner or later."

"What do you mean by that?"

He shook his head as his father entered the room. "Nothing."

"I cannot believe this!" Mr. Malfoy snarled as he held up a letter. "This day is just getting worse. The Department of American Magic in New Orleans is attempting to fine me! The owl came this morning."

"What is it about, Dear?" Mrs. Malfoy asked, seating herself at the table.

"It's a ridiculous story. Something to do with selling a Galleon to a Muggle jeweler. They claim that instead of melting it down, the idiot tried to find out what country it came from. He asked questions all over the city, and the D.A.M. had to obliviate him. As if I'd sell anything to a Muggle. American stupidity. I'd like to see them fine me!" He sat down with a huff.

Draco and I looked at each other.

"Can I have my letter?" I asked Mr. Malfoy. It probably wasn't a good time to ask, but I was dying of curiosity. How in the world did the sender of the letter even know who I was, or even that I was here?

Mr. Malfoy didn't even look at me. "No."

Draco looked at me quizzically, and I told him about the flame colored bird that had tried to deliver a letter to me.

"Professor Dumbledore has a Phoenix in his office, but he usually only uses owls," Draco told me. "Was it a Hogwarts letter, Father? Already? She just got here."

"That phoenix," Mr. Malfoy said through gritted teeth, "Was a warning to me. He only uses that bird to deliver letters of utmost importance. It means that he already considers Miriel to be important to him." He shot me a glare. "You will never attend that infernal school. I won't have your mind poisoned by that ridiculous old man."

Draco looked profoundly disappointed. "But Father, there's a story at school that when Potter's Muggle relatives tried to prevent him from getting his Hogwarts letter, they were harassed by flocks of owls until they were nearly driven mad."

"We are wizards, Draco, and we can set the wards around the Manor to prevent that sort of thing!" Mr. Malfoy snapped at Draco as if he were a complete idiot. Honestly, I thought he was going to have a coronary if he didn't calm down.

The house elves served lunch on porcelain dishes rimmed with gold. Even the eating utensils were made of gold! There was something they called Yorkshire pudding, which was strange because it wasn't pudding at all. The tea they served was very strong and hot and flavored with flowers. It wasn't as potent as New Orleans coffee, but it tasted pretty good after I dumped cream and sugar into it. I was aware of Mrs. Malfoy's cold, blue eyes on me, and it seemed that she was carefully watching my table manners.

Mrs. Malfoy had the house elves pour more wine into her goblet. Her husband shot her a venomous look, but she ignored him. "Miriel, dear," she said, sipping her wine. "Why don't you tell us a little bit about yourself. What are your interests?"

After awhile I felt like Mrs. Malfoy was interviewing me. She asked me about my taste in books, if I could play any musical instruments, and even if I had had any serious boyfriends. She seemed quite pleased when I told her that I hadn't had any. From time to time her husband flashed her triumphant looks, and I definitely had the feeling that I was passing some kind of test that she had laid out for me. Finally she turned her attention to Draco.

"Dear, have you finished your potions essay for Severus?" She asked her son. Spring break was almost over, and he had to go back to Hogwarts in a few days.

"Yes, Mother. I finished it before I left."

"And your other homework? What about your reading assignment for Professor Winterwind? Don't you have an essay due in that ridiculous class, as well?"

"That book is so long and so boring!" Draco told her. He was seriously close to whining. "I fall asleep every time I even try to concentrate on it. And that woman is a slave driver. She's still mad at me for hexing her, and she's harder on me than she is on Granger. It's not fair."

"Why on earth Dumbledore allows Muggle studies at that school, I'll never know," Mr. Malfoy said. "Forcing the students to read that Muggle trash is abominable. And hiring a Muggle professor for the class was ludicrous. Dumbledore is the worst headmaster that Hogwarts has ever seen."

"What kind of class is this?" I asked Draco.

"Muggle studies," Draco told me. "The sixth years have to read British Muggle literature, and Professor Winterwind has assigned us this awful book. It has these ugly, little Muggles with hairy feet, an evil ring, a wizard that is just unbelievably pathetic, elves..."

"How revolting," Mrs. Malfoy said with a shudder. "Who would want to read about house elves?"

"I have to write an essay about one of the characters in the book who "succumbs to the darkness," as Professor Winterwind puts it, and why. She just chose the book because there's a Dark Lord in it. Honestly, it's clear that she's just using the book to push her political views on us about..." Draco caught his father's eye and fell suddenly silent.

"I think I know that book," I said with some excitement. There was finally something familiar I could talk about. "That was my favorite book in high school."

Everyone stared at me.

"Sorry," I said sarcastically.

"No doubt you'll change your mind once you are exposed to Wizard literature." Mr. Malfoy said. "You poor girl. You have so much to learn after living so many years out of touch with the real world, but I'm certain that if you just apply yourself, you'll do admirably. It just so happens that I know of an excellent Dark Arts tutor that can guide your education. "

"And I know a superb etiquette tutor," Mrs. Malfoy added.

"I want to go to school at Hogwarts!" I said. "I love school. I wanted to go to college after high school, but I didn't have the money."

Mr. Malfoy's eyes grew icy, and he gave me a half-smirk, half-sneer. "And you are still knutless. You are the impoverished and illegitimate relation that we have taken under our protection out of the pure generosity of our hearts. When you have your own money to pay for your schooling supplies, you may attend school wherever you wish. Otherwise, I, your sole benefactor, will be in charge of your education."

He had me there, the bastard.

"Father, I don't have any friends at school, and-"Draco began.

"Don't be ridiculous," Mrs. Malfoy told him. "What about Vincent and Gregory? And Blaise? They've been your friends since you were children."

"They're not my friends." Draco looked down at his plate sullenly, and the air seemed thick with tension. "All they care about is sucking up to me because of Father."

"I have an idea," Mrs. Malfoy said. "It's clear that Miriel needs some...proper clothing. I think a trip to Madam Malkin's shop is in order. I'm sure there are a few other items that Miriel needs. Draco, why don't you help her pick out a few things tomorrow at Diagon Alley? You can spend a little time with her before you go back to school. Perhaps she would even like to see the Quidditch supply shop."

Draco nodded. "Yes, Mother."

"I don't want to be a bother," I said hastily. The thought of the Malfoys spending money on me made me uncomfortable, especially after Mr. Malfoy's nasty, little "impoverished and illegitimate" speech. "I packed some more jeans and stuff in my suitcase. I just need a washing machine."

Mrs. Malfoy smiled as though the thought secretly horrified her. "We're a bit more formal here, dear," she said. Her face became a mask of politeness.

The house elves cleared away the dishes. Mr. Malfoy immediately stormed off, fuming to himself. Mrs. Malfoy swayed a little when rising from the table, and I wondered if she'd had too much wine.

"Would you like to see my room?" Draco asked me. "If you write my essay for me, maybe I'll teach you to ride my broomstick. I'm not supposed to use magic when I'm not in school, but the wards around the castle prevent the Ministry of Magic from finding out."

"You don't really fly on broomsticks, do you?" The thought was really horrifying. "I'm kind of afraid of heights."

He leaned in closer to me and lowered his voice. "I promise you, Miriel, riding my broomstick will be the best experience you've ever had."

I looked at him suspiciously, and his little, evil smirk was back in place. I rolled my eyes. I guess all teenage boys were perverts. Even wizard ones. "Well, just because it's so great when you're flying solo, doesn't mean it will be for any... passengers." Two could play at that game.

I heard a titter behind us. "Draco, darling," Mrs. Malfoy's pleasant voice said. "Stop teasing. I do hope you'll behave yourself."

"Yes, Mother. I was just offering Miriel my services. What?" He asked when he caught my glare. "As a teacher. I can teach you all kinds of things. Maybe I'll let you take out my wand and play with it." He grinned wickedly.

I pulled the most disdainful look I could. Really, I was going to have to practice on my sneers, smirks and snarls in the mirror if I was going to keep up with these people.

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Many thanks to my reviewers!

Escaped: Wow- reading your reviews is helping my self-esteem! ( I hope that Draco is in character in my story. I see him as someone who is out of control at Hogwarts partially because at home he is over-controlled, bullied, and is rather lonely. BTW- my advisor gave me a few more months on my thesis, so that means more time to write fan fiction. Yaaay!

Dragonwing: I'm so glad you like this story. Thanks for the encouragement. Don't worry, Lucius can't keep Miriel away from going to school forever!