Reaching Maturity
Disclaimer: do not own. Never have done, never will do. All JK Rowling's.
A/N: I was an occupational therapy student, not a law student, and have no knowledge of the procedure for the readings of wills and so on. Therefore I apologise in advance for anything that is completely wrong. If anyone particularly wants to, they can enlighten me on the procedure in a review or an e-mail.
A/N 2: Bridge Over Troubled Water is one of my absolute favourites.
Author comments for chapter 28:
There will be no actual weddings in this fic. Maybe one day I'll get round to writing them as spin-offs – once I've done a load of other fics on my list, done a load of work to my original stuff, done a load of other things I have planned…
I've really tried to make Hannah into a genuine, believable character – who stays true to her Hufflepuff nature. That's important. She balances Draco in a lot of ways and she's good for him.
Sirius, I can quite categorically state, is not going to become Minister for Magic. Sorry!
Yes, Harry and Hermione are very young chronologically to be getting married, but I know people who got married at their age. Also, they're a lot older than their age in some ways, and they're far more mature than most eighteen-year-olds. They're ready for marriage. Harry's parents were just out of school when they married.
I'm not commenting on what's wrong with Draco until the final chapter (provided I remember!) Some of you may want to guess; I welcome your musings on the matter!
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Chapter 29: A Proposition and House-Clearing
Just before two o'clock, Draco, Hannah and Lupin Apparated to the offices of McBett and Seyton Solicitors in Leeg Alley, where all the different law firms operated – and competed with each other – near Diagon Alley. Lupin knew he was taking a big risk leaving Sirius Black and Severus Snape in the same house unsupervised by him, but he hoped (or, more accurately, prayed) that Harry and Hermione would be able to keep the peace.
Mr. Seyton was a smooth, slickly-dressed man in his late forties. He had gelled-back dark brown hair – charmed to hide the grey that his eyebrows are, thought Draco snidely – a pin-striped suit under his matching pin-striped robes, squeaky, highly-polished black shoes, a dark green tie flecked with silver downward-pointing triangles, and was tall with an extremely arrogant air. He looked patronisingly at Draco, who was several inches shorter than the solicitor, as he greeted them in the reception area. "You must be the orphaned child. I truly feel your loss; your father was a great man." He held out his hand to Draco to shake.
Draco refused, disliking this man instantly. "You feel more than I do, then," he returned coldly. He was determined to project an air of cool, emotionless indifference to this man.
Seyton blinked in surprise – perhaps he had been expecting a pathetic, distraught, sobbing boy rather than the mature, businesslike man he was facing – and swept an arm in the direction of his open office door. "Do come in," he invited.
Moments later Lupin had a mug of coffee in his hand. He did not drink it, though; it was far too weak for his liking, and there was far too much milk in it. Draco was leaning against Hannah, who had her arm protectively around his waist, her other hand slipped inside his.
"Now," began Seyton in a very self-important tone, clearing his throat as he unfurled a roll of parchment. "It is stated here, Mr. Malfoy, that Malfoy Manor, everything in it, and also its grounds, are to become yours provided you marry 'a suitable woman'. Now, you and I, Mr. Malfoy, both know that that person is Miss Pansy Parkinson."
"Is it stated as such?"
"Not as such, though your father and I had multiple discussions on this matter, and he informed me that this person is Miss Parkinson."
"Then I won't inherit it." Despite his frail appearance and slumped form, Draco spoke with a quiet, clear authority. "I refuse to marry Pansy, who I understand is currently in Azkaban awaiting trial for participating willingly in Death Eater activities. Also, if there is nowhere in the legal document in front of you that states that my choice of bride must be Miss Parkinson, then what is there to discuss? It depends on one's interpretation of that statement, after all. If I don't get the estate, then so be it. I'll manage."
Seyton narrowed his eyes in a thinly veiled attempt to hide his shock at the young man's words. He quickly recovered, however (as many slimy solicitors and suchlike are apt to do), and returned his attention to the parchment that lay upon his impeccably tidy desk. "You are, however, to inherit the family fortune in the event of your mother's death, regardless as to your choice of bride – or partner, I believe the modern term is, particularly if you are…batting for the other team, if you will. I take it you do understand to what it is that I am referring?"
"I am far from stupid, Mr. Seyton. I know exactly what it is that you refer to, and I can inform you that I am not…batting for the other team, as you so tactfully put it." He kept a straight face as he said this, though for Hannah it required every ounce of self-control to not burst out laughing. "Is there anything else? I have a pressing schedule." Of sleeping, he mentally added. Seyton did not need to know that detail.
Seyton tapped the fingers of his right hand on the polished wooden desk. "It is up to you to decide what to do with the manor and the items inside it. Your mother's will simply states that upon her death, you inherit." He paused. "The Parkinsons will be disappointed, Mr. Malfoy." His voice was pleasant enough, but there was a distinctly threatening undertone to it.
"I have made my choice; she merely has to accept. Something," added Draco icily, levelling his stare with Seyton's, "that is none of your business. In my eyes she is 'a suitable woman' or whatever the phrasing was, and also in the eyes of my legal guardian and godfather, Professor Severus Snape. Is the matter of the reading of the will concluded?"
Seyton nodded curtly.
"In the future, the Malfoys will be associating with more…desirable solicitors. I shall notify you when our acquaintance is terminated." He rose, Hannah and Lupin a split second behind him. "Good day, Mr. Seyton." With Hannah's support, he swept out of the office, and the three Apparated back to Lupin's village, near the river. Lupin, glancing at them, told them that he would see them back at the house. "I need to make sure that Sirius and Severus haven't killed each other," he informed them with a wry smile.
Hannah turned away, staring blankly across the river. "I'd best let you get back to your 'choice', then," she said quietly before beginning to walk away. "Millicent Bulstrode? Morag Macdougal?"
Draco grabbed her violently, hauling her round to face him. "What! Han, don't be so stupid!"
"Why? What am I being stupid about?"
He raised his eyes to the blue heavens and sighed heavily, frustrated. "God give me strength," he muttered. He groaned. "I'm being really bad at all this."
"At all what?"
He looked down at the ground, suddenly fascinated by his feet, unable to look at her. "Well, I don't have any idea about how to propose to a girl, especially someone like you, Han, but I'll do it anyway. Will you – will you be my 'choice'?" Only now did he lift his eyes hopefully yet fearfully, dreading her reaction – dreading rejection.
Her sad, angry, hurt face softened into a warm smile. "Oh, I think I could."
"Well?"
"Of course I'll be your 'choice'!" She drew him into a loving hug, resting her head on his thin shoulders. "What happens now with all the stuff you've inherited?"
They drew apart and began walking back to Lupin's, hand in hand.
Draco sighed. "I suppose I'd better go over there tomorrow. The sooner I start, the sooner it's all dealt with. It'll take at least several days to go through it all. I know there are a number of books in the library I wouldn't mind hanging on to, as well as a few other things, but I suspect there'll be a lot of things that can be removed and sold – or destroyed. I don't really care about what happens to a lot of the stuff, but chances are there'll be some Dark items. And then there's the fact that I have no desire at all to reacquaint myself with the painted ancestors."
Hannah pulled a face. "I know what you mean."
"I'll need your help, along with Harry and Hermione if they're willing, and hopefully Lupin and Sirius. And then there'll be the problem of changing solicitors. God only knows how I go about doing that." He ran his fingers agitatedly through his hair.
"Lupin'll know," Hannah assured him, removing his hand from his hair and tugging him through the gate, which they had reached by now. "We can ask him. He knows about these things."
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Early the next morning, the four plus Sirius and Lupin left for Malfoy Manor. This was the first time Draco had been back there since Christmas. Izzy and Mazzy, the two house-elves, flung themselves on Draco the moment they saw him. "Nobody is come for a long, long time!" squeaked Mazzy. "Mazzy is hearing Master Lucius is dead!"
Draco nodded briefly. "He is. So is Mother."
"Izzy can speak about it now because Master Lucius is dead," whispered Izzy, though she kept her voice quiet, as though she feared the portraits overhearing. "Master Lucius and Mistress Narcissa were very bad wizards."
"They were," agreed Draco shortly. He was still somewhat torn – although his parents had been Death Eaters, they had been the ones who had brought him up. "Look, you two, I'm selling the Manor. I don't want it. How would you two like to go to Hogwarts?"
"But why is Master Draco selling the Manor?" asked Izzy plaintively.
"There are too many bad memories here," replied Draco quietly. He found himself lost in recollections of various events in his past – events that he knew would haunt him for as long as he continued to live in that house.
The two house-elves exchanged sad looks. They knew only too well to what Draco referred, knew what Lucius was like. They understood.
"You'll love Hogwarts," Harry assured them. "I spent seven years of my life there – we all did – and they've been the best seven years of my life. Not that that's difficult, of course," he added wryly.
"We need a plan," announced Lupin from the back. "Some kind of logical order to tidying this place – because it's huge. We can't just plough in anywhere."
"Maybe we could start with the dining room," suggested Draco. "I suspect the conference room, or meeting room or whatever you want to call it, is still protected by security charms. It's this way."
They followed him as he took them the short distance to the dining room and sat down at the long table, Lupin taking out a notebook and quill. A short discussion led to them deciding to work from the cellars upwards, one room at a time. The house-elves brought them coffee and tea with cakes before joining in with the discussion. They knew the house better than even Draco, along with all the secret passages and concealed rooms that are so often associated with old, rambling houses.
The far cellar appeared to have collected even more dust since Draco had last been there, despite it being so far from sources of dust. He noticed that the crates and boxes stacked there had not, as far as he could determine, been disturbed. "Let's get all of these things up to the dining room and sort them out there; it's too dark and dusty in here," he decided, coughing as his moving feet kicked clouds of dust up into the air. "Cover your mouths." He pointed his wand at the nearest box. "Wingardium leviosa."
The others followed suit, forming a chain that moved the boxes from wand to wand, ending with the two house-elves, who used their own magic to place the boxes and crates in the dining room. Finally the far cellar was empty.
"Izzy and Mazzy will clean this room while Master Draco and his friends sort out the boxes," announced Mazzy authoritatively. "There is cake and hot drinks for yous in the dining room."
"Sounds like we've been dismissed," observed Lupin.
"A cup of coffee would go down nicely," admitted Hermione.
"Izzy's cake is the best," Draco informed them. A sad look clouded his grey eyes. "I am going to miss them, though."
Sirius sat down at the table when they reached the dining room and poured himself some coffee. "Looks like there's just junk in those boxes."
"Most likely," agreed Draco. He sat down on the edge of the table, a mug of tea in his hand, and looked into the box nearest to him. There were a lot of envelopes inside it and he pulled out one of the tattered top ones. Intrigued, he put down his mug and pulled a sheaf of parchment from the envelope. "Father's first school report."
"Oh?" Harry raised his eyebrows, curiosity piqued.
Draco flicked through them, skim-reading them. "Top in Potions, same for Transfiguration, Charms, Defence Against the Dark Arts…He was top in everything. His Head of House's report says that he was a model student in almost every respect but that he needs to learn to control his temper." He snorted derisively. "Like that ever happened. Lucius Malfoy, perfect student." He stuffed the pieces of parchment back into their envelope, which he tossed to the floor in disgust. "That's now the pile of things to be burned."
He delved further into the box, Hannah aiding him. The others also began working on the boxes. By lunchtime, all of the boxes from the far cellar had been emptied. Three separate piles had been formed (and all objects placed in boxes in each pile to make carrying them easier) – paper and things to be burned; things to throw away, such as old brooms; and things to keep. This last box so far contained only an old, stuffed toy cat that Draco had stubbornly refused to let anyone throw away. When Hermione rolled her eyes and attempted to put it in the pile of things to be thrown away when everything else was done, Draco Summoned the toy to himself. It flew through the air and he clutched it tightly in his arms. To the others, he suddenly seemed like a small child, lonely, insecure and vulnerable. "Don't try that again, Granger!" he snapped, glaring fiercely at her.
"Sorry!" Hermione hastily apologised, somewhat taken aback by his fierceness.
Lupin cleared his throat loudly. "I believe it is lunchtime," he said. "And we should wash our hands and faces before we eat; we're all covered in dust."
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Once they had eaten lunch, the other two cellars were cleared out. This did not take anywhere near as long as the first one had done, owing to the fact that they were both considerably smaller than the first one. Old clothes that had belonged to Lucius and Narcissa, along with several broken broomsticks, were all that was found in most of the few boxes from the middle cellar. In the final box from that cellar, Harry found Narcissa's old schoolbooks and reports, and Draco sharply ordered him to get rid of them. He did not want to even look at them.
The only things that were considered to be worth keeping were three Muggle novels, as Draco had not read them. He put them in the 'To Keep' box, stating that he would read them in the near future. They looked quite lonely on their own in the box – the toy cat was by now safely in one of the large pockets of Draco's robes, which lay discarded with those of everyone else, as they had a tendency to get in the way of their tasks.
"Only two boxes from the third cellar," announced Hermione. "Just a load of old Daily Prophets in this one –"
"Chuck them once we've had a quick flick through them," advised Hannah.
"– and this one has three broken owl perches."
"Definitely chuck those out!" laughed Harry, watching as Hermione threw the perches into the junk box.
Sirius glanced at his watch. "It's ten to six, you lot – time for food," he declared as Izzy and Mazzy returned from getting rid of the last boxload of rubbish. "Are we staying here tonight or going back to Remus'?"
"It'd be easier to stay," commented Harry.
"May as well," said Draco wearily. "I'd rather not do any more Apparating than I absolutely have to, and I can't cope with Floo; I'm completely knackered."
"Dinner is coming," announced Izzy. "Yous should all have showers; yous is all messy and covered in dirt."
"Yes, ma'am!" replied Lupin, saluting the house-elf.
"Dinner is being served at six-thirty," Mazzy informed them all. "Rooms is all made up for yous." She and Izzy hurried off and Draco showed the others to their rooms – all of which were en-suite, meaning that they could all have long, luxurious, hot showers without waiting for anyone else to finish, as so often happened in their own homes.
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They were up early again the next day. They started in the dining room, but all that needed to be done there was for someone to remove the toy from under the small corner table. Hannah did this, and the toy was thrown out. Lupin decided that they should sort through the furniture last of all.
They moved on to the parlour. This had several glass-fronted cabinets, all beautifully crafted – and horrifically expensive. These contained a carefully-arranged display of china tea-services, and one set of drawers held some large books. Harry pulled out one of the books and held it up. "Didn't realise you played the piano, Draco."
"I don't."
"Then why is your name written on the front of it?"
"Because I was forced to have lessons for six years. Nobody seemed to realise that I'm completely tone-deaf," shot back Draco bitingly. "Get rid of all of them if you like; I certainly won't be using them again."
"If you don't mind, could – could I have it?" asked Hannah hesitantly. "Only, I can play at a reasonable standard, and it looks like it could be quite good music."
"Play for us now," suggested Hermione. Harry and Draco nodded their agreement. Hannah, somewhat pink in the face, nevertheless took one of the books and set it on the small piano in the parlour. For the next five minutes, the room was filled with a beautiful rendition of Simon and Garfunkel's Bridge Over Troubled Water.
"Wow," breathed Draco when she had finished. "That was amazing."
Hannah eyed him dubiously. "Can we get on with the sorting now?" she requested quickly, in an attempt to hide her discomfort at being put in the spotlight and being praised like that.
"Good idea," replied Lupin, smiling gently at her, knowing exactly how she was feeling. He turned to Draco. "Now, what about your parents' wedding photos on this wall?"
Draco glanced briefly at them and bit his lip. "I don't know if I can keep them; I hate them both so much, and to see them looking so happy…You don't need to be a genius to figure out that all the photos they're smiling in are from before I came along." He pulled out some photo albums that he knew were in another drawer and sat cross-legged on the polished wooden floor of the light, airy room, flicking through them. Hannah sat down next to him and looked at the photos. "Who are all these people?" she asked, pointing to a party photo.
Draco shrugged. "Fellow Death Eaters, I expect. If you're looking for embarrassing photos of me, you'll be disappointed. I hardly featured in their lives, and also I imagine they didn't want to take the risk of photos showing any injuries that might throw suspicion on my father."
Hannah stopped his hand, pointing to one photo of a four-year-old Draco engrossed in a book. Underneath it in Narcissa's aristocratic, flowing script, was: "Note to Lucius: ensure he is to start learning proper magic soon". Without doubt, that meant the Dark Arts.
"You look really sweet," commented Hannah. This promptly resulted in the album being slammed shut. Hannah, startled, pulled back. "Draco?" she asked uncertainly.
"I'll look at these later," he responded shortly, pushing the albums violently away from him and drawing his knees up to his chest, hugging them protectively. He lowered his forehead to his knees so that his forehead was hidden. The familiar sense of loneliness and being wanted only for the role of Lucius' heir washed over him, triggered by the photos. Everyone else's photo albums, he knew, had huge numbers of photos of their children doing all sorts of things. His parents seemed happier without him, he thought bitterly.
"Stop it, Draco," Lupin ordered gently, bending down in front of him and placing a hand lightly on Draco's shoulder. "I know what you're thinking. So what if they didn't really care about you as a person? They're gone now. Gone forever. You have Hannah now; she won't ever stop caring about you. You hear me?" He smiled as Draco nodded.
"Perhaps we should leave the albums until later in your life," advised Hermione. "It's too hard for you at the moment."
Draco nodded in agreement and slowly stood up. "I think that's a good idea. Let's get on with the sorting out."
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TBC
