Disclaimer: I don't own anyone in this story at all, apart from Ophelia, the redhead. Wh00t! Go redheads!

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Tashy – Thankyou for the review, my dear! Love the e-mail and glad you like the style…because I don't think I'll be changing it any time soon! Enjoy this chapter!

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Chapter Two- Old Life, New Life

"It's a pity, a real pity…"

"Do you think he'll wake up? I presume he saw the state his father was in…?"

"I'm sure he did – a boy doesn't look like that if he hasn't been shocked – he'd obviously fainted-"

"Indeed. I suppose he ran from his father's study...then to the bathroom…and sometime after that, he fainted and landed on his wrist."

"Have you called a Healer? They'll fix it in no time –"

"No, I don't think it's a good idea to mend it now. It's a clean break, it'll heal. He's not strong enough to take the magic…"

The boy in the bed opened his eyes blearily, not quite taking in the number of people standing around his bed before they all started speaking at once, asking him how he was, whether he felt too hot or cold and whether he was 'experiencing pain'. He replied with the rudest word he could think of; of course he was, he had a thumping headache and his wrist was stiff and appeared to be supported by a splint.

The man who was standing closest to him frowned slightly and looked sternly at the boy. "Now, now, Draco…there's no need for that type of language, is there?"

Draco snarled and tried to get out of bed to show the man exactly why he could not tell him what to do, but immediately the crowd surged forwards and placed their hands on him, pinning him back on the bed. Struggling was no use; they were simply a lot stronger than he was and there was nothing they could do about it. He was rather strong for someone who'd just turned seventeen and was due to turn eighteen some time next year, but the combined weight of the four men and seven women that Draco had managed to count was too much for him to move.

"Now Mr. Malfoy, we have some bad news for you, which should not come as too much of a shock, I hope, as you presumably saw last night what-"

"My father's dead," Draco replied in a monotone. "Yes, I saw. And no, I don't care, so you can stop fussing over me. If he wanted to kill himself, that was his own problem. I only wish he hadn't made such a mess…blood all over the floor…why, a simple curse would have done it. Stupid man."

"Draco darling, he was out of his mind. Your Daddy was not a sane man at the end of his life, surely you could see that?" The woman who had spoken kindly put her hand on his cheek.

Draco growled softly and coldly brushed the hand away. He did not want to think about last night, but it appeared that it was his duty to. He sighed impatiently before speaking. "I don't care what happened…he was hardly a good father anyway…and he was bound to go mad, wasn't he…what with the new business and all?" He stretched and lay back on his pillows with a smirk. "I suppose I've inherited everything? The Manor…his money?"

He watched as the people around him exchanged significant looks, before one of the women spoke. "Draco, your father…we fear he was not of sound mind, but he has left everything to your mother's sister, Bellatrix. In fact…" She swallowed nervously and took a step back from the bed, ready to bring her arms up to protect herself at the boy's reaction. "There was only one mention of you in the will, and that was to say that from now on you will be placed in the care of Severus Snape…a delightful gentleman who has just performed the task of killing the fool Albus Dumbledore and has successfully made himself a hero within our circles."

"Snape?" Malfoy spat, sitting bolt upright, his covers sliding off him. "Snape? That old git? I'd rather sleep with a Mandrake than live with him!"

"Mr Malfoy," the man who had spoken first replied carefully. "We have no control over the will. We expect you to be out of the house before sunset this evening, and we will set up a Portkey to Severus' residence."

"But- my mother…?"

"Your father also mentioned your mother only once, Mr Malfoy, commanding that she be…." He broke off, visibly sweating. "Giving the instruction for her to be – killed – under the first full moon after his death."

"Three guesses when the next full moon is," Draco muttered furiously.

"It is tonight, Mr Malfoy. Tonight they are going to destroy your mother."

"Hermione, darling, where are you going?"

Mr Granger had appeared at Hermione's bedroom doorway, looking concerned and rather uncomfortable, watching her pack a brand new suitcase with her school uniform, her favourite muggle clothes and a number of books and objects which he could only presume to be something to do with school.

"Out," was his daughter's short reply, "Not that it's any concern of yours."

Mr Granger had become more and more concerned about his daughter throughout the holidays. Hermione had not only been acting strangely – differently, somehow; she was more irritable and angry, and did not seem to speak to either of her parents properly at all. He assumed it was something to do with the arguments, but he had thought that she might understand – she was, after all, terribly mature for her age.

"Sweetheart," he answered anxiously, "Where abouts? You know that wizard- what's his name…Lord Somethingorother – you know he's on the loose. I'm not sure it's a good idea for a seventeen year-old girl to be wandering the streets alone…"

"It's Lord Voldemort, Dad, and I have my wand. I'm not going to be alone, I'll have Crookshanks, won't I?" Hermione continued to pack her bags, not looking up at her Father.

Mr Granger's voice shook as answered his daughter, 'though he tried not to let her know that he was crying silently. "Hermione, please…where are you going? I understand that it's been difficult for these last few weeks…it's been difficult for all of us…but we need to know where you're going. Are you off to stay with some school friends? Is there anyone we know who you'd like to stay with…or are you just heading off?"

Hermione grimaced and forced herself to look up at her Dad. What she was about to say would break his heart, but she was terribly angry at both of them. Her summer had been ruined, she had been thoroughly miserable and she was worried about what on earth was going to happen when the split finally came.

"Dad…I'm going to stay with the Weasleys. They don't argue. They are a proper family, with more than one child…they understand, they pay attention to me instead of getting lost in their own stupid little arguments. I'm going to stay with them, and I don't suppose I'm going to come back."

She hated to do this; knew that it was unfair on her family, and especially her father, to leave on this sour note, but if she left it any longer, she would back out of the whole plan. Slamming her suitcase shut, she took out her wand, took a quick look around her bedroom, grabbed the handles of her bags and focused on the point she wanted to go to. With a flick of her wand, she Disapparated without so much as a mumbled 'Goodbye'.

"I'm not sure I can be bothered to leave now…I mean, what if someone decides to kill themselves or something? I'd hate to miss it, George…"

Fred's twin brother grinned and muttered something about the fact that anything would be interesting after the boredom of the first week.

"The thing is, I feel guilty about not wanting to spend more time here, Comrade, but I'd rather get back to the store…and get back to Ophelia…I quite fancy trying my chances with her…she's rather pretty, wouldn't you say?"

George snorted. "If you marry her you'd be certain to have little redheaded children. It would be cute…a family of redheads…"

"You idiot, we already live in one," Fred commented, throwing his pillow at George's head as a look of realisation dawned on his brother's face. "Honestly, sometimes I think you're completely crazy, my friend. It hasn't been so bad, has it?"

George considered this for a moment, before grinning and returning the pillow. "Yeah, but think about this…mini Freds running around – now that would not be a pretty sight, would it?"

Fred laughed and was about to reply when there came a shriek from downstairs. The twins looked at each other, worried about what they would find, and instantly Disapparated, to appear in the kitchen a few seconds later.

"Mum?" George said anxiously, hurrying to her side. "Mum, what is it?"

Molly Weasley was standing in the middle of the kitchen clutching a piece of paper to her chest. George took it from her, recognising the writing as their elder brother Bill's.

Fred ran over, squinting to read the letter over his brother's shoulder. They finished almost at the same time, and both turned to their mother, looks of shock on their faces.

"They're having a baby?" they asked their mother in disbelief.

Fred snorted. "Bit soon for that isn't it?" he commented.

Their mother mumbled something, turned dead white, and fainted.