Chapter Thirty: Announcing, the Great and Mysterious !
The last two days at Malfoy Manor. Everything was going as well as anyone could hope; Lucius Malfoy, frightening patriarch, was gone most of the holidays, Mab only knows; Narcissa Malfoy, stunningly beautiful and oh-so-flighty matriarch was busy as only she could be; Draco was unlike anything everyone had warned her he was, and they were ready to leave and be happy for the rest of their lives.
Except.
Someone didn't like that version of the story.
It started the night Draco and Kit went exploring.
Room to room, they ran through the halls and corridors, silent and breathless as they opened and shut doors all across the third level of the manor. Every now and again, the two hit upon something interesting – an odd bundle of rings, which neither of them was stupid enough to try on; a large volume stretched tight with creaking, snapping leather that reeked of vomit and something that smelled suspiciously of poison; and a red, blood red fountain pen, gold nib and curved to fit the palm.
Nearing the top of one rickety flight of servant's stairs, Kit glanced back over her shoulder at the panting form of Draco and laughed, tripped, and smashed into the stairs. Glancing up, she found herself staring at a skull, bleached ivory pale with the light the shone constantly through the huge glass panels that stretched the height of the house.
"Alas..." She whispered, staring wide eyed into its empty hollows, "Poor Yorick."
Draco, hearing her colossal fall, sprang up the steps two at a time.
"Kit – are you alright? Nothing broken?"
She looked up at him in time to see the smile flicker temperamentally on and off his face, apparently attempting to keep it off.
"Ha. Ha." She grumbled. "It's fine for you to laugh, you didn't fall. Yeah, I'm alright. I just hit my funny bone."
The smirk was back on his face. "Oh, that's not fun. But you know what cures it?"
"What?" She asked suspiciously, surveying his grin.
"A stolen kiss." He murmured in reply, before taking one for himself.
Kit gave a half giggle, half sigh. "Well." She pulled back and cleared her throat. "I thank thee, fair Romeo – but it hast still to work, and so I shalt languish here a while longer until my fret dost leave me be."
Draco raised an eyebrow. "Ye olde tongue?"
She pointed to the skull. "In honor of Yorick here. I don't think he'll understand us otherwise."
Draco simply rolled his eyes heavenward. "You're crazy."
"I know." She grinned up at him endearingly. "That's why everyone loves me so." Laughing at his expression, she gave him a shove. "Now, get going and let me be. I'll catch up in a moment."
Grumbling, he obeyed, taking the steps two at a time, though wary so he didn't crash in the same manner.
Looking out at the snowy landscape, Kit failed to notice her silent observer, a soot rub on the powdery white.
He stood, knee deep, eyes narrowing at the sight of the two forms inside the turret. The one he knew to be Draco, but the other... his eyes widened in recognition as she tilted her head up to his kiss. He instinctively took a step back as she turned her head back toward the glass, out of her line of vision, and gave himself a moment to seethe.
The brat got everything. Name, fortune, favor – even looks, according to the general public. It was enough to drive any average guy crazy; everyone at Hogwarts knew that their girl at one point or other had fooled around with Draco, was most likely going to end up screwing around with Draco, or was currently messing around with Draco – and they couldn't do a thing about it. Not only did he have name, wealth, and – according to most under-thirty and then some females – looks, he was also cunning and could fight his own battles exceedingly well, if the need ever arose.
Not that he wasn't pretty wonderful himself. He knew he was, and had more charisma to boot – but he also possessed a terrible arrogance that anyone who knew him could easily begin to hate. Not that they could do anything. He had connections – ones that if called on could be deadly – and most people, knowing that, avoided crossing him.
As it was, much like Draco, he was not much used to being refused anything.
So, having been slighted twice in so many weeks – by a sixth year girl, no less – had left him nothing short of shocked. But now, realizing he had been slighted for the half-pint wizard Draco – it was outrageous! What could he have possibly done to secure the affections and benefits of that particular girl? What offer had he made that he himself could not have matched and exceeded!
Thoroughly enraged, Quentin Ridge swirled his cloak and shoved his way through the thickly piled snow, fury cloaking him against the cold better than any heating charm.
He-llo again! Long, long, LONG time – and no write. I am sincerely sorry. But it seems that all they say about Junior year is true – it's a personal hell! But, I'm nearly done – thank heaven! – and so, I'll be back to writing regularly soon. How soon, I cannot say – but hey! Do I have any original readers still? Has anyone waited out the long, dreary days of no-me-ness?
If so, review, and I will personally apologize to all of you for my long, long delay...
But enough waterworks.
Please, enjoy!
Most Sincerely Yours,
Silverfey
May 19th, 2005