DISCLAIMER: Nothing is mine. Shame.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This was written in response to the Draco's Detour challenge on Page of Peril and thus is out of date as far as HBP goes, so no spoilers.

Draco's Detour

By Louise

Chapter One: Draco

Once upon a time there lived a boy who had everything he ever wanted. He was good looking, rich and totally secure in his position in the world and his innate superiority over everyone else. This being the case, it was rather surprising to see him lying on his luxurious bed in his richly furnished bedroom, sulking. One thought and one thought only was running through his handsome head…'it's so unfair'…

"Come on Draco."

Scowling the boy stood up and straightened his clothes, chafing at the unjustly impatient note in his mother's voice as she called him for the first time. Refusing to hurry he walked sedately down the grand, over blown staircase and into the equally grand and over blown lobby where his mother was waiting for him.

Narcissa Malfoy looked impeccable as usual, perfect hair, perfect clothes, perfect makeup…'and perfect son,' he thought bitterly, though to own the truth he was being rather unfair on his mother. However, as we have already established, Draco was sulking, and it was something he prided himself on. Having long ago realised that he had outgrown the highly effective tantrums of his youth, he developed instead a great aptitude for self pity, and had been employing it continually since his most inelegant arrival at Platform 9 ¾ two weeks earlier. While his humiliation at the hands of Potter's friends had been bitter, he would have gotten over it had the loving and concerned mother he'd always known been there to great him. What met him instead was a cold, reserved woman who had no time for him, preferring instead to keep to her rooms, or go out on mysterious errands which she would brook no questions about. He would even have accepted this state of affairs had he for on moment believed it to be connected with his father's incarceration, but if his mother was loving to him, she showed no such feelings for her husband. A marriage of convenience and politics, there had been little love between the two, though Draco fancied that there had been a peaceful co-existence and even friendship until it appeared that You Know Who was not quite as dead as everyone had hoped.

"Where might we be going mother?" he asked in the lazy drawl he fancied made him sound as grand as his father, no one having the heart to tell him it sounded just like what it was…a child trying to play at being grown up.

"It's time you learnt what it means to be part of a family," Narcissa looked at him coolly before turning on her heel and heading for the door, secure in the knowledge her son would follow. And follow he did, intrigued and annoyed in equal measure.

Two minutes later Draco found himself being driven off the estate by his mother, and in a muggle car none the less! It was a nice car, he would admit that much to himself, silver and sleek, with big comfy seats and a box that played soft classical music. Stretching slightly he turned an enquiring face to his mother, "are we doing something about father?"

"You could say that Draco," she replied, looking for all the world as if she were trying not to smile.

Draco turned and looked out of the window, telling himself that all would be revealed soon enough, and he couldn't exactly make his mother talk now could he?

After about half an hour the car turned into the driveway of the smallest house Draco had ever seen (not that he had actually seen that many houses, but it still seemed ridiculously small to him.)

"Come on Draco," his mother commanded, opening the door for him and waiting for him to climb out of the car. Stretching, Draco got out of the vehicle and looked around him. The quiet road was full of houses near enough identical to the one he stood in front of, all with neat little gardens and wooden gates at one side, and a big square-ish door on the other. Hearing his mother's steps crunching the gravel beneath him, he turned to look at the house in front of him, just as ordinary and mundane as all the others, with its neat garden and featureless bricks. 'How utterly pathetic, to have to live in a place like this' he patted himself on the back for being sensible enough to be born into a family with money.

He watched as his mother pulled out a key and opened the white door, turning impatiently to see what was keeping him. Hurriedly he followed her into the house and into the most boring set of rooms he had ever seen. The small hall was painted magnolia, as was the slightly larger rooms that followed. He was able to differentiate between the lounge, dining room and kitchen only by the furniture held in each, there being no difference in decoration or indeed any sign of life at all in house.

No sooner had the thought flittered across his mind then he heard a creek above him as floor boards gave slightly under someone's feet. Turning sharply at the noise he noticed no surprise on his mother's face, which perhaps lessened the shock when someone called down "Narcissa?"

"Just coming up," his mother responded and Draco turned confused eyes to meet her gaze. "Follow me," she commanded.

They walked up magnolia stairs and onto a magnolia landing with six doors off of it. Draco stared in amazement at the doors, wondering if this house was magical, despite all evidence to the contrary, for he could see no other explanation as to how that many rooms could be contained in such a small space. Finally his eyes fell on the one open door, leading into yet another magnolia room, this one clearly a bedroom (as proved by the bed in the middle of the room).

Sitting in the middle of the bed, was a man, though Draco used the term loosely…'walking corpse would be more appropriate' he thought wryly. The matted black hair was greasy and knotted in such a way as to confirm that the man had not been anywhere near a shower in a very long time. Hanging off a gaunt frame were clothes that even the werewolf would have turned his nose up at, ripped, muddy and very possibly bloodied as well. The man's face was painfully thin, with lifeless eyes staring out from hollow sockets.

Staring, Draco found himself unwilling to go closer, yet unable to look away, caught in a horrified fascination that he couldn't escape.

Then the man stood, and the illusion was shattered.

Literally.

"Narcissa, I see you made good on your threat and brought your offspring with you. See how pleased I am."

"It is time he learns what family loyalty really means," his mother replied coolly, but Draco was in no position to register anything she was saying. In fact, he was quite impressed he was able to think logically, for the moment the man moved Draco felt his whole perception shift and the house burst into life…and colour.

Rippling out from under the man on the bed, waves of colour spread out through the house. Draco could feel the magic wash over him and the carpet beneath his feet changed to a deep red, while the walls took on light shades of purple, yellow and green. And the man, the gaunt, lifeless man was gone, and in his place stood an angry man who looked like he was not much older than thirty. Long, thick hair replaced the knotted mess; casual robes replaced the rags that barely passed as clothes.

The man walked closer and Draco sensed an innate self confidence in the way the man moved: it was much as his father had always strode around the manner, king of all he surveyed. 'But not any more,' he corrected himself bitterly.

Surveying Draco like one would a dangerous animal the stranger offered his next words as a taunt. "But what'll blow your mind is wondering which is the illusion."

Unsure how to respond, he just glared angrily, starting at his mother's next words. "Sirius," his she snapped angrily, "don't confuse the boy."

END CHAPTER ONE

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