Title: The Serpent's Children
Rating: PG13 for the language
A/n: Teeheehee, thanks. Should I make this a romance or a friendship thing cos, naturally, neither one is gonna die. Duh.
Thank you for reviewing, betrothed means sort of committed..well in this sense, Draco and Pansy's parents have arranged for them to be married when they grow up… the Malfoys are still very, very old fashioned, so arranged marriages are the norm, blahblahblah….heheheh…
Also, this Draco is mostly based on the movie Draco, i.e. the snobby, weaselly, gift stealing little twit, oh but he's not evil. And Pansy is puggish but she's not evil either. Does that make sense? Really, I don't know..
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another flashback, by the way, I can't be arsed to think up chapter names.
Malfoy Manor – 1990
Draco put down his broomstick on its rack lovingly, meticulously. He stepped back to make sure it was secure, then felt an invisible jab in his stomach.
"I'm coming, father!" he grumbled.
Lucius Malfoy was calling him to the Manor, that much was clear. As a very early present, Lucius had placed a sort of curse on his son. It was illegal but effective, a sharp, shooting pain through the abdomen when delayed if summoned. It worked very well.
It must be one of father's friends over again. Lucius was always inviting strange people for tea and something-or-other-in-the-drawing-room-later-on. Draco had, in the past, asked his mother what went on in there, but he had since learned not to ask questions. He now thought it was some old man thing, or perhaps karaoke, somebody had before suggested.
He wondered who it would be, for Draco was usually there to keep his father's guests' children company while their fathers were occupied. Moving into a jog, Draco recalled the last visitor. Vincent Crabbe was incredible thick. He hoped it wasn't them again. Young Cecil Avery had been alright, but Lara Nott had been awful. The girl had put him through a horrifying makeover, three years his senior. He had to admit that she did quite well with his hair, but the makeup was almost traumatizing for Draco.
This time, there was a good chance of it being somebody new. He had seen a mahogany coach pull up while flying over the courtyard. Strangely, there hadn't been a coat of arms on the thing.
He pushed the front doors open and stepped in.
"Master Draco," exclaimed a house elf. "Master is most late, he must hurry!"
Draco snatched his cloak off and dumped it unceremoniously onto the waiting figure and walked briskly towards the parlor, where father's friends were always entertained for tea.
Picking a leaf out of his hair, he entered the little room.
"Ah, Draco," said his father, looking at him in the way which said 'you're bloody lucky you're not later than you already are'. Everybody in the parlor stood. Tradition was seven eighths of this household, and of the households of all associated with it.
"Good Merlin, Draco," said his mother in clipped, aristocratic tones. She was still seated, and took a sip of tea from her exquisitely crafted cup. "What have you been doing all afternoon? You're positively filthy!"
Draco glanced down at his nearly muddy robes.
"I had a slight accident with the great Weed, Mother, nothing to worry about."
The Manor's expansive grounds and gardens were not stranger to sentient plants. The Weed was a particularly grouchy elm tree near the back of the house.
"Oh, no!" Narcissa flitted, beckoning. After a moment's hesitation, he went to his mother who embraced him. "Are you hurt, darling? I've always disapproved of your flying so much, especially in those areas of the house."
"No, Mother."
"Good," said Lucius brusquely. Their guests, a man and a woman the same ages as Draco's parents shifted uncomfortably, bashfully silent.
Narcissa shot a look at him, but masked it in the space of a split second. "Oh, but how rude of me," she said airily, releasing her son. "Mercutio, Penelope, this is my son, Draconis Casper the Second. Draco dear," she said, pushing him towards the couple like a mother hen proudly does her chick, "go and say hello!"
Draco straightened up and bowed. He shook the man's hand. "Pleased to make your acquaintance," he said. Then he turned to face his guest's wife. He bowed again, took her hand and placed a kiss on it.
"Charmed."
Penelope Parkinson giggled slightly at the sight of a nine year old following such mature custom.
"The pleasure is mine, Draco," she said kindly.
Draco raised his head, and was aware of a shuffling sound behind the woman's back. Furrowing his eyebrows, Draco tilted his head. Against the wall, a young girl retreated further into the comforting shadows of her mother's cloak.
"It's alright, child," called Narcissa. "Draco won't bite."
"Come out, dear," said Penelope in a calming tone.
"Pansy, you mustn't be rude to our hosts, do you hear?" said her father.
The girl glanced at Mercutio then stepped into the light.
She stood shyly in front of Draco.
"My name is Pansy," she said, curtsying slightly.
Draco hesitated.
"Go on, Draco," warned Lucius.
"Draco Malfoy at your service," he said politely as he placed bowed and kissed her hand.
The girl blushed, unaccustomed to the treatment.
Around them, the Malfoys and the Parkinsons beamed.
"Mercutio," said Lucius coolly, now that the whole ordeal of introduction was done. "Shall we adjourn to the drawing room?"
Mr. Parkinson's expression changed. "Why certainly, Lucius. Penelope?"
"I'll be fine, dearest," lied Penelope. "Nacissa has graciously invited me for a stroll through the gardens."
"Yes, it's such a lovely day out," said Narcissa gaily. "Draco, dear, would you give young Mistress Parkinson a tour of the Manor, I'm sure she'd love to see it."
Draco looked over at the girl, whose expression indicated that she would like to do no such thing.
"I was going to have a bath, as a matter of fact-," he began, but was cut off by the raising of his father's eyebrows. "- but as soon as I am finished, it would be my honor to show you Malfoy Manor, Miss Parkinson."
Pansy, having also been warned by her parents, followed him out of the parlor and up a grand staircase. They stopped once Draco realized this.
"Why are you following me?" he demanded, rounding on her.
Pansy frowned. "I'm supposed to follow you!"
"Weren't you listening? I'm going to clean up first!"
"And what do you want me to do until then? Play with dolls?"
"You might."
"You're supposed to entertain me!"
Draco stared at the girl before him. "Entertain yourself for a moment, can't you?"
"You can't leave me alone! My mother would kill me!"
"Look, I can't very well bring you into the bathroom with me can I?"
"You could at least leave me somewhere."
"Alright," he said, thinking. "Caliere!"
A servant girl appeared.
"Take her to the library. Pamela, go read a book or something. I'll come get you in a bit. Alright?"
"It's Pansy."
"I don't care. Are you still here? Caliere!" he motioned for them too leave.
Caliere marched off with a sharp, "Follow me, miss," and Pansy left with her nose in the air.
'Twit,' she thought. He was most disagreeable, and very, very dirty. Pansy couldn't understand why she had to be here, anyway. Her parents had never taken her to their friends' houses before.
She crashed ungracefully into a suit of armor.
"Miss?" said Caliere sharply.
"Hmm?" said a very red Pansy, rubbing her elbows. "Oh. It's a very nicely decorated house, isn't it?"
The servant girl stared at her in what she hoped was a polite way, uncomprehending. "The library is this way, miss," she said, condescendingly.
Pansy followed her, fuming once again. She might not have been so prestigious as a Malfoy, but she didn't have to take disrespect from servants.
"I'll find it myself, thank you," she said huffily, turning on her heel. She stalked off in another direction.
Right. Now what?
She wandered around for a bit and found herself in a hall which had probably once been one of the lesser ballrooms. It was now empty except for old desks, cracked mirrors, and a lot of dust. There was one particular spot with an old, dilapidated chest in front of it. This was not the extraordinary thing about this spot, it was that somebody had taken pains to conceal something, and Pansy intended to see it. After a while, and much grunting and heaving, she stepped back to be greeted by a grand painting of Casper Malfoy the First.
"Good evening," he said, tilting his head calculatingly.
Pansy suppressed a gasp. Lord Casper was very, very handsome. He had the characteristically Malfoy silver hair, the same aristocratic cheek structure that her hosts possessed. Of course, the line of Malfoy were all of that, but Lord Casper was different somehow. Pansy looked into his eyes, and found the difference there. These were not the cool, stormy grey eyes of Lucius and Draco. They were brown, as brown as her own, and projected a quality that held warmth, congeniality and that feline, Malfoy gleam.
His gaze didn't falter, and Pansy hurriedly remembered her manners.
"G-good evening, s-sir," she whispered.
"Ah, so you are not a descendant of mine, then," the painting said, taking in her hair, robes, shoes…
"No, Lord Casper, j-just a visitor."
"I see." It was not a malicious comment, as Draco's would have been, simply a fact.
"And what is your name, child?" he asked kindly.
"Pansy Parkinson, sir," she replied cautiously. Was there a reason this Lord's portrait had been so carefully hidden?
"No need to worry, Miss Parkinson. Or is it Miss Pansy?"
"I am an only child, if that's what you're asking."
"Miss Parkinson, then. As I said, do not fret, I bear you no ill will. I was kept behind that dusty dresser by the imbeciles who currently live here. Perhaps you've met them? Lucille, if I recall correctly."
"Lucius, sir."
"Right. Are you a Hogwarts student as well?"
"I expect I shall be. I won't be starting school for a year."
"But of course, if you are in this house for any reason, you already know some magic?"
"Er, yes. But I don't have a wand yet, only my hands."
"As the best of us begin with," he smiled.
Pansy was getting uncomfortable, talking to this hundred year old Malfoy lord, so she made to excuse herself.
"I should return to my host, he may be missing me."
"I doubt it," said Lord Casper shrewdly. "I've met the young boy. Bit of a ponce, isn't he? Gets all bothered about his hair all the time?"
Pansy giggled. He offered her a dusty old stool as a seat, and she took it and sat down.
"Yes, that's him I think. He's named after you, right?"
"I believe so, sadly. Well," he said, shifting his weight, "vain though he be, he does come by and talk to the ancestors once in a while."
"Damn right!" piped another, older voice. Pansy whirled. Somehow, she had seemed to miss another portrait, hanging.
"Good evening, sir," she said dutifully.
"Pay him no heed, little one," said Lord Casper smoothly. "The old ones are slightly less than worth talking to."
A new voice broke in. "Casper Annas Malfoy, you take that back!"
The patriarch's eyes widened. Another painted figure came into the picture.
"Why, Elizabeth! Won't you say hello to Miss Pansy Parkinson?" he stuttered, trying to sound innocent.
Lady Elizabeth Malfoy gave him a look that said, very clearly, 'I'll deal with you later,' and then turned to the amused, albeit awkward young girl in the real world before her. "Why, hello there!" she sang.
"Hello, madam," Pansy said, smiling. She liked this woman, decidedly. She was beautiful, to say the least, all tanned skin and green eyes, and brilliant red hair. And she twinkled somehow.
"Dearest, I was merely entertaining a neglected guest," resumed Lord Casper in the tones of a very worried husband.
"Neglected? Not by little Draco, surely?"
"Actually, I'm just waiting for him to finish his bath."
"You see?" said Lord Casper. "He's spurned her! Cast her aside!"
"Oh, do be quiet Casper," said Lady Elizabeth. "I'm Lady Elizabeth, are you lost?"
"Not precisely, only a little."
"Good Lord. And my husband? Has he been up to his usual tricks again?"
"Oh no, Lady Elizabeth," said Pansy eagerly. "He's very nice."
Lady Elizabeth softened for a minute. "Well, yes, he is rather," she said, taking her husband's hand.
Pansy smiled.
At that moment, Draco burst into the room.
"Miss Parkinson, I must ask you not to poke around in rooms which you are not familiar with! You could have died!"
He strode over and Pansy swore she could see smoke coming out of his ears. At least he was clean.
"I'm terribly sorry Lord and Lady Malfoy, but I think I have to go."
Draco had arrived.
"And you two!" he shouted. "What are you doing out? You could have been seen! Mr. Parkinson would have murdered you!"
"Gods, Draco," drawled Lord Casper. "Everyday, you become more like a nagging aunt I once had. Aunt Veronica, I believe."
Somewhere, Aunt Veronica yelled, "Hey!"
Draco narrowed his eyes at the painted figures.
"Come now, Draco, it was only a bit of fun. Besides, young Pansy here is most charming."
"That is beside the point!" he stopped. "Charming? Really?"
Behind him, Pansy pouted.
"Now look, you've upset her," said Lady Elizabeth. "It's alright, child. He didn't mean it."
Draco was now fuming very obviously.
"MiLady," he said very slowly, struggling to keep in control. "I must ask you to excuse me, the Miss and I must take our leave."
"You may leave, Draco," she said kindly. "Such lovely manners," she murmured to her husband.
Draco turned to Pansy and pointed to the door. "Out. Now."
"No need to be mean, Draco," said Lord Casper.
"I will deal with you later!" he said imperiously, before bowing to Lady Elizabeth.
Then he raised his hands and concentrated, and the discarded piled of old furniture moved back into place.
Then he strode out and, in a rather bad mood about everything, force fed Malfoy history into the brain of Pansy Parkinson, somehow managing to shoe her the entire Manor in the space of fifteen minutes.
"Don't tell anybody that you were in that room, do you hear?"
Pansy nodded, slightly scared. Somewhere in front of them, Messrs Malfoy and Parkinson stepped out of the drawing room.
"Just say that we've been playing outside, alright? Tell my father how much you enjoyed the fountains or something."
"Alright, I'm not stupid."
Draco shook his head and left her where she stood.
A minute later, her family regrouped and they left Malfoy Manor for the first time.
But not for the last.
Inside the storeroom, two muffled voices could be heard.
"Did you see his hair? How could anybody spend so much time on such silly things. I do hope he's not going to turn out like Lesley."
"Get stuffed, Casper!"
"Shut up, both of you. Draco is a perfectly wonderful young gentleman, and I will not tolerate anymore incessant chatter from you."
"Sorry, Elizabeth."
"Sorry, dear."
Well?!?!?!!!?!?!??!!?
Oh god…..well this was the first time they met, obviously, this chappie was mostly filler. Next chapter, either the Hippogriff bite or the Yule Ball incident. Tell me which while you REVIEW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
And, of course, try to read my other stories while you're at it. Pwetty please?