Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters, except for Bo the Monkey, who will not be appearing in this fic.

A/N: If anyone has ever seen Rocky Horror Picture Show, you know it's an audience participation movie.         When ever you see a star in parenthesis (*), Zip to the bottom of the page, where it will show you   what to do. If you think this is stupid, don't zip to the bottom of the page, where it will show you         what to do.  If you think it's stupid, Bo the Monkey will throw feces at you. It was his idea.

Draco lied down on his bed moodily.  Just what was Roosta thinking with those bags at his room? Honestly.  He felt a pang of regret at venting his frustration at the little elf, but that vanished as quickly as the tides.

Draco jerked up suddenly as his mother burst into his room. She slammed the door so hard that his bed shook, and marched over to him. "Do you realize you made a fool out of yourself not to mention me?" Narcissia said in a low hiss. "Mudblood or not, I do not like to look stupid."

"But Roosta brought the trunks up to the wrong room! He—" Draco faltered under the glare of his mother.

"No he did not," Narcissia continued in the same low hissing voice. "Your room will be donated to Miss Granger. It is the only room that does not leek in the rain."

Draco couldn't help but saying "Yeah, Fenny does wonders with caulking spells."

Narcissia dug her fingernails into her son's arm. "And you, my dear son," Narcissia continued, making the last phrase stick out maliciously, "will be sleeping in the eastern guest room."

Draco scowled but nodded his head.

Narcissia swept from the room as if she had forgotten Draco was there.  She paused at the door to address the cowering house elves. "Roosta, please place Draco's clothes in the Eastern guestroom. Fenny, when he is done, dry Miss Grangers clothes and put them in this room."  The house elves scurried around with trunks and clothes, both careful not to get too close to Draco.  Narcissia hesitated. "We will talk of punishment later," she said shortly before sweeping down the stairs.

Draco rolled his eyes at the house elves and followed his mother down the stairs.  He could hear his mother apologizing over and over for "her son's rudeness."  Not quite the entrance I had hoped, but it's sure something she'll remember, Draco thought to himself.

Hermione gaped at him when he came into view, but her face changed into resigned acknowledgement.  Draco thought to keep his face very placid. 

"I apologize for the interruption, Grang—(his mother carefully stepped on his foot) Hermione," Draco said placidly.

"That's quite alright," Hermione choked alright, sounding like she didn't mean it at all, before collapsing into an awkward silence.

Narcissia looked at Hermione warmly. "You poor thing," she said. "You need to change into some dry clothes.  Come, we'll see if there's anything of mine you can wear."

Hermione looked as if she would rather be sogging wet then wear a Malfoy's clothes, but she followed Narcissia.

Laughing to himself, Draco lied down on one of the couches.  Hermione probably didn't know that his mother was a Malfoy until he walked down.

Ten minutes later, Draco glared at the stairs. How long does it take to put on a dress? Jeez, it's not like they were readying their selves for combat.  Fifteen minutes after that, Hermione walked down the stairs looking miserable.  Draco saw immediately why.  She was wearing his clothes!  His green cashmere shirt and his black pants!  He could hear his mother apologizing again.

Narcissia sat Hermione down across from Draco.  "Draco, is it alright if Hermione wears your clothes tonight? And possibly your bed clothes?" Narcissia asked worriedly.  

"Sure," Draco mumbled looking carefully at his hands.  What else was I supposed to say? he angrily told himself.  No, no you can't wear my clothes because you're a mudblood and I hate you? Yes, said his other half. That's exactly what you say.  Draco rolled his eyes. "Is supper ready, Mother?" he asked drolly.

Narcissia looked sharply at him, but nodded. "I believe Fenny has set table already. She does get ahead of herself."

The trio walked into the dining room, which was beautifully set with blue china and glasses that were filled with red wine.  Hermione let out a small sigh, and Draco rolled his eyes. She was such a mudblood. Not even used to china plates.  She probably has some clastic ones from Mark and Spenser's. Draco smirked to himself. Not that he knew what clastic was. Or Mark and Spenser's. He had heard his father use the same phrase about Arthur Weasley.

They all sat down, Narcissia at the head of the table. "A toast," (*) Narcissia said, raising her glass.  "To aspiring friendships and our welfare."  They clinked glasses and each took a sip.  Hermione made an odd choking noise, and swallowed quickly.

"What's wrong dear? Are you alright?" Narcissia asked sounding concerned.  Draco smirked behind his napkin.

"It's… it's nothing," Hermione muttered. When Narcissia gave her a motherly look, Hermione added, "I'm just not used to wine." She looked as if she wished she hadn't said it; Draco's smirk grew.

"Oh I'm so sorry, would you like some milk?" Narcissia pressed.

This time Draco couldn't hold it back. He gave a small snort of laughter into his napkin.

Narcissia pretended not to notice.  Hermione's face was as red as a cherry.  "No…I'm… fine," she stammered.  Narcissia didn't look completely convinced, but let it go.

Draco took a bite of stew and quickly swallowed. It tasted charred. Couldn't Mother get the house elves to cook on holidays? She burned it every year.

Hermione too winced, but she said "It tastes wonderful." Draco nodded, and Narcissia beamed. She started to talk to Hermione about how she wanted to take cooking classes, and cook more often.

Draco as quickly as he could, and asked to be excused. The tension was unbearable.

Narcissia smiled icily. "Of course you can.  You can also show Hermione to her room, and give her a quick tour of the manor." Draco scowled. She had obviously still not forgiven him for the house elf incident. 

"Come, my lady," Draco said in his best butler voice. "I will show thee to thy room." Draco smirked, ignoring his mother's poisonous looks.

Hermione hesitated, but followed him upstairs.

(*): Gm and Bo the Monkey throw toast at the screen.

A/N: Ooo, so Narcissia does have a bit of Malfoy in her.  Jeez, I guess it was Draco's mom that caused            Draco to grow up evil and twisted. What's with the stairs? I just noticed that every chapter ends with       someone going up the stairs. Cool.

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