Chapter Nine: Departure and Journey

The next morning, Narcissa swept downstairs with a careless grace and a cool smile. Her children¡­no, she could not allow herself to think of the girl as her child¡­had already begun eating, and Lucius sat facing her, evidently in an indulgent mood. Rays of golden light streamed through the windows and onto their faces, each containing a far greater brilliance than that of the angelic dawn.

Oh, but that was such a pity. She could have easily accepted a surrogate child who did not dazzle, who was content to prop Draco up through all her days. Instead she had been cursed with a girl who refused to collapse, shatter, or wither in the House of the Malfoy. And she had been cursed by her unbreakable obligations.

Every inch the Lady, Narcissa lowered herself into the empty chair, then nodded and smiled lightly at her ¡family.¡± But it was a family bound by blood and Oaths, not the idea of love, which had never truly existed in her heart either. Especially that the two children were going to be out of sight for a good few months, she would be nothing in the eye of Lucius, nothing until the coming winter when the social season and its scrutiny on public image would commence.

As a child, she had once expected a fairytale courtship and marriage, though such delusions had faded by the age when she could first work toward them. At school there had been no one quite up to par with her expectations¡­until, of course, she had met the white-blond, powerfully charismatic Lucius, then a fourteen-year-old boy fighting for his Lordship and what her parents had considered a perfect match. Obviously they had insisted on an engagement, and then marriage only two months after graduation from Hogwarts.

For a moment, her eyes misted over. She was bringing back memories of balmy summer evenings and burning, amorous nights. Nights spent trembling with expectation upon a goose down bed and twisting, twisting her white arms around his neck, drawing them both together...­

But then there were also the nights when she lay cold and lonely, staring into the darkness and wondering what it concealed. Needless to say, she lived far from a perfect life...yet could that be attributed to herself? Did she covet more than could be obtained?

No matter, thought Narcissa as she sipped her coffee and rested her deceptively mild gaze on Draco and Laine. What I want, I will have...

­Once they had brushed over the list of issues to be aware of at Hogwarts, Lucius stood and strode to the doorway, his line behind him. The entire time, Draco was shifting out of boredom, to be quieted by the briefest of silver-gray gazes. He had heard the instructions time and time again already, as had Laine. But it was utterly unavoidable, the reminder, and oh¡­evidently something new?

Uncle wanted Draco to behave like the spoiled brat that he so clearly was not? To put aside Apexi manners, bearing, and a certain degree of...­humility?

She supposed that he had his reasons and thus did not comment, except for a slight nod. Following him silently outside, Laine cast a final glance upon the Manor, today revealed in all of its cold, unwavering splendor. The early sun darkened every shadow, brightened the few faces of light on the building, and for a moment she saw the fortress lying beneath the façade of an ancient and beautiful work of art. She saw, for a moment, into the very core of the Malfoy lands and all that Lucius emphasized so frequently, but could not place words on the sensation of awe sweeping across her. Then Laine felt a tug at her stomach, and when she looked back again, the Arch stood in front and a clean expanse of meadows behind.

In single file, all four of them passed through the Arch, the venerable Arch that shielded the highest of the High People from wayward thoughts and the rest of the world. Within another second, Lucius had Apparated them to Platform 9 ¾ itself—no trifling with the barrier and the Muggles required.

Around her were students and parents scrambling about, panicking over the loss of a toad, and every other imaginable dilemma while still wearing their Muggle clothing. Except, of course, for her ¡family¡± and a very few select others. They looked out at the crowds with a supremely cool, disdainful air, and they were fully aware that they commanded attention wherever they walked. Even Draco had changed, somehow. Slowly, slowly, he unfolded his arms and allowed a hint of a smirk onto his face that was so much like Uncle's. His back had straightened imperceptibly, and he held his head high, with an insolent air that flaunted all that a Malfoy was.

Draco was no longer a child, to be coddled; however, Laine had never thought that in the first place. But all traces of childhood had melted away and left behind a young Lord ready for all that could possibly strike him. She saw that his face was perfect, the result of over two millennia of breeding, and now it revealed none of whatever dark thoughts that might have rested within his mind.

Together they boarded the train, lifting the large trunks easily despite of their characteristically slim figures. Once on board, Draco immediately spotted a few of his other friends and left her standing in the aisle, momentarily frozen until someone shouted at her to move. So quickly, Laine ducked into the nearest empty compartment, shut the door, and released a long, long sigh.

A few days ago, in the secluded tranquility of the hills, she and Draco had had endless discussions over school—the teachers, the food, and most of all, the Houses. But he had never even mentioned the chaos of simply getting to school...­or perhaps he had not anticipated it.

Out of the corner of her eye, Laine spotted two tall figures standing a few feet apart from the other panicked parents, both radiating an aura of confidence that could be sensed even through a pane of glass. She nearly raised her hand to wave, but thought better of it and resigned herself to a quick nod, which they returned smoothly. It seemed that their expectations had not, in fact, magically left her when the platform began to move backwards and they, forward. But she had embarked upon a new leg of the journey, and she was nearing her supposed goal without knowing what it was.

A female voice broke through her thoughts as the door slid open. "Hey, mind if I sit here?"

She shook her head. "Not at all."

No sooner had she said those words than a whole group of girls came inside, unwilling to waste a second in their interminable conversation that had begun hours ago and would end hours later. Laine listened for a while, until the steady drone faded into background noise in her mind. It drew a sense of irritation from her, an irritation that spawned from their willingness to talk about anything and everything without any other considerations. Simply put, they were so...­crass. And Uncle Lucius had warned her of it.

Drumming her fingers on the window sill, she resigned herself to staring outside at the blurs and flashes of trees, of tiny villages they passed. They looked almost like the Malfoy estates, except that the Old land gave off a more potent magic. She exhaled softly and turned back to her companions...­and immediately drew their unwanted attention as well.

"So anyway," the blonde flicked a strand of her ponytail aside, smiling as though she had done something spectacular by addressing a first year before leaving sight of the station. "What's your name? I'm Katie Bell, a Gryffindor second year."

The imbecile, she thought with a mental sigh. "Laine Callida Kwan, pleased to make your acquaintance." A trace of the cynical amusement compounded with audacity appeared in her eyes, at which Katie seemed rather taken aback.

"Oh, that's a nice name. Any idea as to what House you'll be in?"

"Not particularly, no." She flicked a glance at the figures barely visible through the frosted door. No, no one she was particularly interested in, but that mattered little. "Excuse me," said Laine, carefully making her way outside the compartment. There was no way on Earth that she could tolerate another minute of that blonde, babbling Gryffindor¡­not that the last part mattered, of course.

She did not bother to explain her abrupt departure, did not bother to so much as look back. If she had, she would have only seen their heads bobbing up and down, mouths fluttering with excitement. At any rate, it did not excite her very much, even though Laine could not actually bring herself to harbor any resentment towards them. In fact, they almost—almost reminded her of someone else she had known months ago and had not seen since. They reminded her of an easy, cheerful life that she had not lived for months.

And they reminded her of all that lay beyond the Malfoy lands.

I should have been one of them...

­Once outside, she inhaled deeply and began to wander down the car, turning from side to side as she searched for one of two students she already knew, and only one of whom she felt any desire to meet. Draco and Theodore Nott. So similar, and yet so different in a way that could not be put into words. There was a fundamental rift between the two, and she could sense but not explain it. She saw their faces in her head, one smirking, the other curling a lip into a sneer. Otherwise, they were the same, but different.

If anyone had asked her to point out that difference, Laine would have screamed in frustration—no, simply looked at him until he understood for himself. Because some things in life were not meant to be put into words...­

She spotted a blond head just in front and shook all frustration away, then followed out of curiosity. He was walking with an air of carelessness, flanked by the two large boys she had seen earlier, whose main purposes were to serve as bodyguards. After some wandering, the three of them finally stopped inside a car and opened the door. Laine smiled; maybe they had seen someone of interest whom she should meet as well. But maybe, just maybe, she ought not to intrude just yet.

Although she saw little of what happened inside, Laine did hear the lazy drawl of the Malfoy floating through the air, and then silence. And there was a sudden grunt of pain, followed by the hasty, undignified retreat of three figures plus one scruffy rat flying across the aisle. They were walking towards her, and she raised a brow in amusement and nodded slightly.

Draco pushed by her without a word, and his two companions nearly crushed her against the glass compartment door.

Ignored her completely!

A scowl formed on her face, one that she directed at their departing backs. It was, of course, more than useless, as Draco would not look back unless there was an audible distraction, and his "friends" were too stupid to divert their gaze from his slim, radiant figure. He had the tendency to attract notice, to command power, to instill loyalty like his father, which no one failed to notice. And he had a sufficiently large entourage that he could afford to dismiss anyone (like Laine) who did not exactly satisfy his particular needs...­a fact that hurt her more than it should have.

With a final parting glance, she returned to the compartment that was no longer hers and attempted to slip into her seat without notice. She failed, as the girls noticed her and immediately drew her into the conversation. Soon and despite herself, Laine too was laughing, completely and utterly at ease, telling stories of her own, at least of her old life. Dark eyes sparkled; her face had a sort of merry impudence that had been missing for a long time. Her musings were lost in the endless flow of words and silenced by mischievous snickers, leaving her head empty and light. And she sat there and talked and talked and talked, with barely a trace of a doubt that this was somehow incorrect. Until the conversation slowed to a pause.

It was as if she had awakened from a dream, and she blinked several times before leaning back and sighing rather wistfully. Gryffindor was a fun House to be in, where she knew she would have no trouble fitting right into the crowd of troublemakers and firebrands—or at least the other crowd who spent its time spurning on their antics. Unfortunately, Laine also sensed a deeper instinct: that she had witnessed too much blood to revert to the old ways. Too much blood to live like that again.

In effect, she was caught in the middle between two ripping, tearing forces, and there was no way out.

He rested his head back on the smooth velvet of the seat—it was amazing what a little money and persuasion could do, sometimes. And yet, it was also amazing what the two were incapable of...­

The taste of failure was acrid in his mouth, and though Draco Malfoy the boy had sampled worse, this was humiliation, sheer public humiliation without any regard to the rules. Then again, he himself did not think twice about bending them, but he had expected Harry Potter, boy hero to at least extend the most common of courtesies in return.

Evidently, he sneered, Potter doesn't understand his own world. And the sparks of cold anger were born.

As two pairs of confused, less-stupid-than-they-seemed eyes drilled into his head, Crabbe and Goyle noticing his unease, he allowed a smirk to curl at his lips before resting a cool gray gaze on each of them in turn. That silenced them quite effectively, silenced the unspoken doubts.

The vendor passed him with little more than a polite smile, and he shifted slightly to permit the passage of Crabbe's bulky figure as he went in search of more food. For a few precious moments, Draco was alone, but how he relished the silence and the tranquility that seemed to become a shield of its own, protecting him from the whims of the world.

It was too early to concede defeat, but¡­it was also very uncool to be forced away by a large rat.

Checking his watch, Draco realized that they were nearing Hogwarts and slipped a tie beneath black robes. Soon they would start their new lives—if he could put the day's earlier incident out of mind, if he could only focus on maintaining the right image from now on.

They said that it was a cruel system, but it was a system that had maintained a balance of power since the dawn of magical history, before other fools had begun to interfere. And Draco could not, would not defy the centuries of protocol and tradition that had been bred into his very blood; he could not ignore his own standing and right and resources.

In the society that he and hundreds of generations of Malfoy before him had been born into, strength was vital, and the weak were put down without mercy...

As they left the train in uneven waves, the older students boarded carriages and left the first years to the supervision of a large, bearded man stumping about the lake. They followed him silently, a bit anxious at the sight of the looming blackness of the castle against the violet-blue sky, but nevertheless boarded the slender vessels gliding across the silky smooth surface of the lake. From nowhere, a breath of wind sent quivers up the longest fingers of the forest and the exposed necks of the first years, waiting to find their future, waiting to realize it. But they could only wait, for nothing could compel the hulking figure at the fore to proceed but at his own pace. Then the caravan of boats slipped into a tiny grotto, and all was truly dark for a few moments until the white shoreline came into view, and with it, a weathered door.