Chapter Seven: Acquaintance for the Future
The pale but still somewhat childish face of Elaine Malfoy Kwan peered through fine gauze curtains curiously, her dark brown eyes absorbing the minutiae of the estates. As the carriage floated smoothly over the grass, drawn by large winged horses, scenes and landscapes darker and older than magic whizzed by, and each remained in sight for barely a second before blurring into the next. It was far different from the lush orchards and rolling hills she had seen earlier—this was the other side of the vast Malfoy estates.
"Elaine, do pull your head back…I would face an unpleasant trial if you were to incinerate it as we pass through the Arch…" Lucius Malfoy's lazy, unconcerned drawl drifted to the back of the car on a crisp morning breeze. Though he did not turn, instead gazing pointedly ahead like his wife, the girl shuddered and quickly pulled the fabrics shut. Beside her Draco said nothing, but she could feel the amusement on his face, amusement at her misstep. So be it then.
As they neared the Arch, the very air hummed softly, and strains of archaic song faded farther and farther away just as Elaine tried to listen more closely. It was unlike any music ever before, a sort of mixture between inaudible drum pulses and a harrowing, liquid chant poured to the wind. A familiar tingle ran up her spine and stirred her into an alert, expectant state of mind. All traces of lethargy vanished; a wild spirit glided through the recesses of her thoughts.
But around her, the world seemed much as it had been only seconds before. The elder Malfoys sat near the chauffeur, poised, composed, while their son leaned against the armrest and stared at the folds of the sashes. Only she felt the quickening of breath and the unknown substance racing through her veins, and she loved the sensation with a forcefulness Elaine had not known existed.
Had it been like this when she first arrived? That time Hancock had attempted to distract her with comforts and reassurances, and great help that had been. As much as Elaine tumbled through her memories, there was a large gap at that critical moment. Suddenly she wanted to know what had affected her, the knowledge of breathing some fresh, non-Malfoy air or the location itself. If the former, there was still surely an aura about the door to the outside that only she noticed…only someone who could not claim to be a true blond, Norman Malfoy.
The cheery twitter of a skylark broke through the protective bubble around her senses, and she inhaled sharply as the carriage rolled to a surprisingly jolting halt. Nodding thanks to the driver, Elaine descended the steps and followed them through the Arch. She could not resist an inquisitive glance at the weathered surface of the keystone before hurrying through the doorway to nowhere, for it would not do to be left behind.
Draco tapped his fingers on the counter impatiently after giving his parents a carelessly confident wave, and then they had left him to purchase new robes with Elaine in tow. Sometimes his mother rather hurt him, considering her crazily fluctuating impatience and cloying tenderness. He could not recall a single instance when she had displayed genuine, unmitigated love, not even affection…oddly enough it still hurt to see the other little boys and girls being hugged and kissed, despite how much he pulled away from the touch of flesh against flesh.
Yet there was still the business of the annoyed, portly woman standing before him who had affixed his money pouch with hungry, eager eyes. Sighing, he produced his name and order, the requisite Hogwarts robes in the trained voice of an Apexi heir, then dropped a golden coin onto the counter, where it was immediately plucked away by her plump fingers. Once the clothing was in his hands, he beckoned Elaine forward and stepped away, firing her a warning look that warned not to say anything irrevocably stupid. Silly girl, he never knew what to really expect of her. Unlike the children of the Kins, Elaine had been raised in a classical middle-class environment, and she talked like someone who had never seen a few Galleons or a well-situated manor before. In private it merely drew discipline from Father, but publicly—if she humiliated them, he would never forgive her.
Or at least until she did something to redeem herself.
He sauntered to the entrance of the robe shop and immediately spotted another soon-to-be first year, a dark-haired, nervous-looking boy loitering about the entrance with a similar bag in his hands. Soon they had struck up a stilted conversation, and Draco saw for the first time Rubeus Hagrid, gamekeeper of Hogwarts. But overall he could not help but shrink away at the boy's obvious lack of confidence and Muggle-like amazement. There was not a chance that they met again as allies in Slytherin.
"What's your surname, anyway?" he finally asked, once all other venues of conversation had been exhausted.
At that time, he turned on his heel and jogged away, following the hairy man of gigantic proportions. Hagrid. Even the name sounded like a servant type, Draco curled his lip in slight disgust, which was quickly noticed by Elaine as she trotted over with her robes.
For a moment Elaine gazed at the boy's retreating back, and her eyes never left the black hair falling over his forehead. The crystal clear eyes looked familiar, as did the hint of a healed gash seen from her vantage point behind the two. Once he was completely out of sight, she gasped, "I think I just saw Harry Potter, the child savior of the world…"
Harry Potter. Boy superhero.
In the books he had always been shown as a tiny bawling infant engulfed in blinding green light for a split second, frozen in that instance of time. There had been no pictures released since the Halloween night that had changed everything, only sketches of what he was rumored to look like. And ten years later, Elaine was surprised at how different he looked than she had pictured.
Mentally she had always imagined a brave, handsome boy unafraid of the world, although her (late) parents had explained over and over that he was just an ordinary boy who had been touched by Fate, a lucky boy. The rapidly disappearing figure before her was scrawny, uneasy, and did not even seem to realize how well known, how famous he was. But scars spoke no lies, and the bolt of lightening etched across his forehead was unmistakable.
Draco shrugged, the expression on his face skeptical. "You are willing to draw that conclusion without ever speaking to him?" he asked, not looking into her eyes.
"I ha—must admit that Harry Potter's a little disappointing," she replied softly and corrected herself in mid-word. Grammar lessons, so pointless, yet so important to Uncle Lucius, who seemed to require that anyone bearing his name behave like the "ancient and venerable House of Malfoys".
"Disappointing? More like gutter trash," scoffed Draco, recalling the nondescript, shapeless clothing he wore and the skittish manner in which he spoke. "Of course I plan to extend a hand of friendship…but I doubt that he would accept it."
Elaine thought about a response about answering, selecting just the words to express her opinions. Although she personally was neutral towards the Gentis Apexis business, their philosophies were seeping slowly but surely into her actions. It left her a bit frightened, but also with an intense power that felt as if it could never be robbed, unlike her past life, unlike the lives of her parents…
So she merely replied, "We will be seeing an interesting first year."
Laughing softly, almost openly, Draco headed outside and she followed at his side, similar to a lost puppy but with a shade more initiative. "And that we will," he smirked. Refined, remorseless, and ready for the ten months to come.
The slit-like eyes of a boy little older flickered back and forth the crowded street; the expression upon his pinched features was of the utmost disdain. Yet his lips, barely present, nearly identical to those of the lanky man beside him, twitched up into a hint of a cruel sneer. It was then that he spotted them.
Soon to be first years…
Lazily picking his way through the shoppers in the practiced manner of princes, he eventually arrived near enough to identify their faces—and well, if it wasn't Malfoy and a girl, a girl already. What did that speak for his future at Hogwarts? These answers in mind, the boy by name of Theodore Nott refused to pass by the rarest of chances, the opportunity to catch the future king of the Apexis off guard. For once Malfoy was almost alone, and even at the tender age of twelve Theodore had learned to relish and anticipate the taste of blood.
He had been taught the ancient customs upon leaving the cradle, a time that was no longer present within his mind. And a very fine, developed mind it was, so he thought smugly. But by the Lady he had been born a child of misfortune, always second-class in the complex network of old houses, always inferior to the bloody princes like Draco Malfoy. Theodore could picture the bawling, red-faced infant as he screamed for yet another golden rattle, and the thought sent a jolt of furious envy all the way up his spine to his narrow head complete with shock of coarse sandy hair. He knew he could accomplish so much, bring the entire system of the old aristocracy crashing his feet…and yet, Fortune chose to bless the little Malfoy. It was an injustice that Theodore Nott refused to accept.
"Good day," he greeted the two as he approached them from across the street, "Malfoy." Glittering amber eyes swept over the younger boy, resting just momentarily on the bag of robes that hung from his perfectly white hand. Quite deliberately, he stared into those already-silvery gray eyes, and though he was a good few inches taller the aura of power still emanated from young Master Malfoy, unmistakable, unforgettable.
Quite deliberately, he ignored the girl who was his companion but instead noted her poorly concealed fear.
Draco, appearing surprised at his sudden appearance, still managed a cool exterior and returned, "Yourself as well, Nott—finishing off school shopping as well?"
Congratulations to the prince for not forcing me to force you to lick my shoes.
He nodded and began to initiate cordial small talk, every so often shooting an icy glare at the girl, who remained silent. Finally Theodore smiled at her, much too casually, and prompted, "Who might you be, to have met Draco Malfoy and to accompany him to…Diagon Alley?"
There, the question had been put out. Now all he had to do was wait for an answer…
It was not long in coming, although Elaine did struggle with garbled syllables for a few seconds. "Elaine Kwan, pleased to meet you," she managed to sputter out as calmly as she could, then extended a friendly hand.
The boy stepped back, perceptibly appalled at the simple gesture. "Theodore Nott, entering into the second year at Hogwarts. Pleased to meet you as well," he added, a trace of derision lacing his words.
Suddenly she felt more sickened than she ever had at the Malfoy manor, with the possible exception of the skull incident that continued to flash through her mind, taunting and insinuating that she would never truly belong. But Unc—Lucius Malfoy had at least attempted to be civil and relatively courteous, treating her as a pseudo-member of his family, providing her with almost the same privileges as Draco himself. While the atmosphere of the estates was never warm, it did possess a civilized, elegant air about it, and she had grown to appreciate it without even realizing her newest perspectives.
And Elaine had realized that there was more to the world than her previous life and her parents. Yes she remembered the happy days, but no, she no longer dwelled in the past or the future that could have been. Cold knowledge took the place of warm innocence, and powerful knowledge at that. The theory of spellwork, the history of the old families, and most importantly, the Game so emphasized by Uncle Malfoy. She had started late but caught on quickly, to the theoretical parts at least. The rest, the practicalities, he had said that she would need to decipher later, on her own.
Superficially she had been transformed into an honorary child of the Gentis Apexis, a girl instructed to behave as though she had been raised in such an environment for all of her eleven years. The Malfoys had attempted to make the most of a month and a half, and she had thought herself ready to find a place in the complex web of social connections.
But Theodore Nott was not fooled, and he had instantly rejected her.
Numbed in shock, she turned to Draco for help. As if on cue, he immediately picked up the loose ends of the conversation, though bored or slightly annoyed afterwards. After a few minutes, Elaine sensed the passing of a shadow above her head, and there stood a tall man with cruel amusement on his face, simply standing and watching before introducing himself. Laurentius Nott.
He led his son away, always smiling in that unreadable manner, and her lip curled up just a bit, the way of her new "family", in the wake of him and his crudest of crude miens.
Once the Notts had safely departed and they had moved on to the next shop, Draco shook his head in mild displeasure. "Never offer to shake their hands," he murmured into her ear. "It is a purely middle-class custom, and you are now of the Apexis."
Never offer to shake their hands…middle-class…the Apexis…
Elaine would remember that for a long time.
AN: I'm so terribly sorry that I haven't updated, but it's been rather inevitable…swamped with work since March, yes, I know, March. Hopefully this chapter is to your liking, and thanks to slateone for pushing me to get it out. Unfortunately it's not proofread, but I thought I'd publish it to put all you fans at peace. :-P
l8er,
-cybErdrAgOn