AN: The purpose of this chapter is to show that there are other types of torture, besides those normally associated with the Malfoys. I refer, of course, to manners and boring dinner conversation, rather than dungeons and horribly nasty  curses. It's a rather longish chapter, but that's mostly because I wanted to introduce the Malfoys in all their glory. Evil minions and secret meeting will not appear for several chapters yet, I think. Apologies to anyone who wants Nym to kick of the Ultra Evil Bad guy before Potter ever gets a crack at him.

On another note, I may be writing a one-shot companion piece to this. I've been having so much fun writing Malfoy Manor that I can't give it up, and Nym will only come here three times (ooh, spoilage!! lol)  So who better to put in Malfoy Manor than darling Draco? We will see.

It had been unseasonably warm that past week, as the final term of the year drew to a close. The results of the exams had been returned, with Nym scoring high in all her exams except History of Magic and Astronomy, the two subjects she had received no special lessons in. "They'll never help you unless you want to go into something boring, like history or… astronomy, I suppose," Sirius had said, waving away the question the one time she'd asked. "Either way, you sit at a desk all the time and are bored to pieces."

Mandy, too, had scraped through, though from her tears both before and after each exam, Nym had been sure she was going to fail out of Hogwarts. The other girl's shining face across the train compartment from her was starting to irk her, in truth. "Mandy," she sighed, "I know you're really happy and all, but it's not like you were ever in danger of flunking. Please calm down."

"Shows what you know," Mandy sniffed. "Rick got a letter from his cousin saying he was going to ace all his exams and his worst enemy was going to flunk out."

Rick, sprawled on the floor of the compartment so he didn't have to share with Mandy, rolled his eyes. "Give it up, Mandy. Sybil's a quack. She couldn't predict breakfast tomorrow if we had the same thing every day."

"But you don't deny I'm your worst enemy," Mandy snapped. Nym traded glances with Zack. How he could stand his sister for so long was a complete mystery to Nym.

"Only because you'll never believe me. Honestly, if you were my worst enemy do you really think I'd be here with you still?"

"You won't sit with me. You hate me," returned Mandy. Nym didn't even want to count the number of times they'd had this argument.

"Come on, you guys," Zack drawled. "It's summer. Let it go. Just kiss and make up and leave the rest of us alone, why don't you."

"Hey," Rick started to protect, before Mandy overrode him.

"Zachary Smith," she screeched, "you… you… oh, I hate you so much. Don't you dare laugh," she added, turning on Rick, "I hate you even more."

"I guess that means I don't get a kiss, huh?" Rick teased. Mandy turned towards the window, refusing to answer.

Zack shook with suppressed laughter. Taking advantage of being allowed to use her wand, Nym built a magical sound barrier around Mandy, cutting off her next words to Zack. "It's serious to her, you know."

"Oh, I know. It's still hilarious to me. Except that I have to live with it. Mom says she'll grow out of it, but she still hasn't said when."

"She has a whole summer."

"Which I get to spend with her, lucky me."

"Hey, I can't even go home, alright? I've gotta go stay with my aunt and uncle."

"Yeah, but they live in a huge mansion, don't they? That's what you said."

"I bet it's really creepy. They're part of my mother's family, after all." She let the ward dissipate. Holding wards always gave her a headache.

"Come off it. You've been living at Hogwarts all year. It's not like it's a haunted castle or anything."

Nym held up a finger to forestall any further arguments. "My mother's family includes such illustrious personages as Regulus Black. Remember?"

"Can't all be bad, can they?"

"That's what I'm afraid to find out." Not all her relatives were bad, Nym admitted silently. She'd really miss Sirius, now that he was going off to be an auror. Her mother, of course, she loved, for all she currently hated her as well. There had still been no indication of when she would be allowed to come home.

"You never know."

Though Zack tried to keep her spirits up with a steady stream of jokes and light chat, as the ride progressed Nym couldn't help the feeling of extreme gloom that stole over her, enveloping her in a fog that dimmed even the pleasure of her friends' company. As if sensing her mistress's agitation, Morwyn had jumped into Nym's lap, where she made a soft, comforting furnace.

"Cheer up, Nym," Mandy said as the train pulled, too soon, into King's Cross. "We'll write you lots of letters. Oodles and oodles of them. Won't we, Zack?" The look she sent her brother promised all sorts of nasty retributions if he should contradict.

"Er, yeah. Oodles?" Mandy, glaring at her brother's unhelpfulness, smiled at Nym.

"Lots of letters, I promise. So long as you write back, of course."

Nym smiled, hugging her friend goodbye and raising a protest from Morwyn. "Promise." She gave Rick a goodbye hug too, 'for luck', but hesitated in front of Zack. Blushing, she shrugged mentally and gave him a hug anyway.

Together, the four of them dragged their trunks, bumping and scraping, off the train onto the platform. There, Zack and Mandy were promptly swept up by a round, motherly woman was flyaway brown hair. "Did you have a good term, darling," she asked Mandy.

Mandy smiled, although it was hard to tell whether it was at seeing her mother or at her brother's obvious embarrassment at this show of affection. "Oh yes, Momma. I want you to meet Nym, my best friend." She grabbed Nym and pulled her over.

Nym smiled a little shyly, aware of the picture she must make next to Mandy. Her friend was average size, with plain brown hair and eyes, but her energy seemed to explode from her, as though her frame couldn't contain it all. Nym, on the other hand, was small and slight, still pale despite hours spent outside, her eyes too big and bright for her small features. With her enormous black school robes – which, despite her mother's promises, she hadn't grown into – she must look vampiric, or at least waifish.

Mrs. Smith, however, did not seem to note any of that. She turned the same smiling face on Nym. "How do you do, dear? Mandy has written me so much about you. I hope you'll be able to come visit this summer? The seaside is so lovely, and so healthy for children."

"I'd like to," Nym said cautiously. "I'd have to ask my aunt and uncle."

"Of course, dear. But any time you want to come visit, just drop us a line. We'd be thrilled to have you. But we must go, children, your father has kept the car running. Goodbye, Nym, have a lovely summer if you can't come visit." Still smiling, she herded her children away, chattering.

"I can see where she gets it from," Rick murmured. "That's my dad. I'll see you later, right Nym?"

"Yeah," said Nym sadly, as her last friend disappeared. She stood alone in the sea of people, unsure of what to do.

Behind her, a voice she recognized spoke up. "Here sir." Nym turned, her wand in her hand even though she wasn't allowed to do magic. Regulus, however, seemed in no mood to be fighting with her, only looking fearfully at the large blond man beside him.

The man dismissed Regulus with a wave of his hand, and the teen scampered. He kept his gaze locked on Nym's. When Regulus was away, after what seemed an eternity, he smiled. "Nymphadora?"

Nym looked away, staring instead at the scuffed toe of her sneaker. "Yes sir. But I prefer Nym, please."

"Come now, there's nothing to be embarrassed about. Nymphadora is a fine name."

Nym hesitated to argue, but at last settled on a milder protest than her usual one to being called Nymphadora. "But a long one, sir."

The man smiled ironically. "I'm sure I can manage. You have everything?"

"Yes sir."

"Very good. Follow me, please." He set off across the platform, Nym at his heels pulling her trunk on its little wheels. "Your aunt wanted to come, but she had morning sickness, I'm afraid. She so wanted to see you come off the train. You have no idea. It would remind her of her own time at Hogwarts, I dare say. I can't imagine what she'll do when your cousin is born. Probably count the days until he gets to go, I shouldn't wonder."

"Please sir," Nym hesitated again, unsure of how to continue, but then she plunged on. "I don't want to be rude, but my mother never told me your name."

"Did she not?"

"Nor even which aunt I was to stay with, sir." Nym bit her lip, suddenly afraid.

But the big man just shook his head wryly, or perhaps in irritation. "My name is Lucius Malfoy. Your aunt Narcissa is my wife."

"I'm sorry sir."

"What, that she's my wife?" At Nym's startled look, he laughed. "No, I know what you mean. But try to speak a little more correctly in the future. We shall turn you into a proper lady while you are at Malfoy Manor, Miss Nymphadora, whether you wish it or not."

"Yes sir," Nym murmured dutifully. So far, Lucius hadn't been quite as bad as she had expected, but she still didn't know quite what to make of him. Make her into a lady, would he? They would see about that.

"Here we are." They were in a strange, gloomy street, wreathed through with fog. A coach sat before them, the horses standing still and disciplined. A coachman leapt from the back to open the door, while a second sprang to take Nym's trunk. Cradling Morwyn, she allowed her uncle to hand her up into the coach, banging her head on the door as she did. "And the first thing we shall do, I think, is cure your clumsiness," Lucius added as he climbed nimbly in and sat opposite her. "Don't think I hadn't noticed you stumbling on every upraised cobblestone."

Nym lowered her head. Yes, she had stumbled, but he had been walking quickly, and she had had to contend with Morwyn and her trunk besides. It had not been her usual unfortunate clumsiness, only the regular sort, that anyone would have in those circumstances.

"Your cat," her uncle said abruptly as the coach rocked into motion. "What is its name?"

"Her name is Morwyn. I hope that is acceptable," she added, with a slight sneer.

Lucius nodded, however. "Very appropriate. I would have been most displeased had you named such a fine creature some hideously childish name like Jinx or Mogs." Nym looked down at the kitten, curled contentedly in her lap. Between Jimmy's indulgent attentions and her own, Morwyn had grown from a pathetic little scrap of fur to a sweet, moderately sized cat. As if sensing the scrutiny, Morwyn looked up at her, their green gazes meeting, and issued a small mew.

There was silence in the coach for a time, during which Nym stroked Morwyn for reassurance. It was broken by her uncle, clearing his throat abruptly. "I hope you will learn quickly what is expected of a lady, Nymphadora. Your grandmother has decided that she will call for Sunday dinner, and she would be most displeased to find you a little ragamuffin like so many of today's children."

"I'll try, sir," Nym promised dutifully, resolving at once to write Mandy and ask if she couldn't come live with her instead.

In less time than Nym would have thought possible – except that it was magic, of course, so naturally the journey was fast, as though Lucius would allow it to be any other way – the coach had pulled up in front of two massive iron gates, their bars ornamented by an 'M' twisted about with a snake. Manicured lawns sloped away from the drive behind it, impersonal and perfect in the gathering twilight.

"Our family has always belonged to Slytherin, of course. It is a matter of great personal pride."

"Begging your pardon, sir, but I don't see how it could be." Too late, Nym bit her lip to keep from speaking.

"You'd be Gryffindor, then," her uncle said, as though saying she had the pox, but he supposed he'd have to live with it, anyway, reluctant though he was to do so.

"Yes sir."

"And tell me, Miss Nymphadora, is Gryffindor so much better than Slytherin?"

Nym hesitated before responding. A wrong answer could, she was sure, make life very difficult for her in the next few months. And though her house loyalty urged her to answer the affirmative, she felt compelled to answer the truth. "I think all the houses are fine, in their way. Gryffindor is no better than Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw, I freely admit."

"But… you have not said Slytherin. Why not?"

Nym stared out the window as they approached the large stone manor house, a perfect sentinel to bygone days of power and influence. "I have not yet met one that was not overly proud of their place there and unwilling to admit the possibility that those in other houses might have some quality too."

"You label them as they label you."

"I only said that I have not yet, sir. I admit the possibility, though it seems unlikely when a Slytherin, one of my own relations in truth, has sworn to kill me, and no few have tried to do me harm."

"You make enemies quickly. May I ask who this brash young man is? I confess I have my suspicions."

"Yes sir. Regulus Black, sir."

Lucius wore an odd expression. "Naturally. Well," he said, dismissively, "Regulus always was an odd boy. I have given up hoping that he would grow out of it. You shall just have to be sure to kill him first."

Startled, Nym stared at her uncle, searching for a suitable reply. "Is that… ladylike, sir?" she asked at last. Lucius roared with laughter.

"You will do well here, I think, Miss Nymphadora. Narcissa will love you. She does so love children. But be warned," he added with a conspiratorial wink, "don't let her take you shopping for things for the baby, if you value your sanity."

"I will keep it in mind, sir."

"Very good." He stepped out of the coach, and handed Nym down. A slightly dumpy woman was waiting, her hands folded neatly before her. Sharp faced, she looked Nym up and down critically, and Nym found herself hoping that this was not her aunt. "Nymphadora, I present Madam Pierce, our housekeeper. She will show you to your rooms. Supper is at seven, be sure you are dressed appropriately." He turned to the housekeeper. "The Sky Room, no?"

"Yes sir," Madam Pierce replied, spreading her skirts in an exact curtsy. Lucius nodded once, and turned away. Madam Pierce studied Nym again, then turned and entered the house, leaving Nym to trail in her wake. She was led through an enormous entrance hall, up a grand staircase and then along a dizzying series of passages, filled with old portraits and what were undoubtedly priceless pieces of art.

At last they stopped before a painting. It's subject, a stern man with a precisely clipped beard and a highly decorated naval uniform, regarded them severely. Beneath his gilt frame, which lacked any of the curling, fanciful work of most of the other frames, read the name 'Lord Admiral William Skye'. "Madam," the admiral said, "I had asked you not to come this way again. I expect my wishes to be followed."

Madam Pierce, with a venomous look at Nym, spread her skirts in a curtsy for the painting. "I apologize, sir. But…"

"But me no buts, madam. You shall do as instructed. And who are you?" he asked, turning on Nym.

"Nymphadora Tonks, sir."

"Tonks," Skye said reflectively. "Not a name I know. What is your heritage?"

"My mother was a Black, sir."

"A relative of the mistress?"

"She is my aunt, sir." Nym was, by this time, heartily sick of addressing people as 'sir', but it just seemed to slip out, as natural as calling Professor Prewett 'Professor'.

"What is your business here, Miss Tonks?" the admiral asked, looking at her with, Nym thought, a little less suspicion.

"I'm staying with my aunt and uncle for the summer, sir. From what my uncle said, I was under the impression I was to have the Sky Room."

"That's Skye, with an 'e'. Mark it, mistress."

"Yes sir."

The admiral looked her up and down, much as Madam Pierce had done, but seemed to like what he found better than the housekeeper had done. "I do not allow just anyone to inhabit my rooms, you know. Your uncle must have extreme faith in your character, to even suggest that you be given them. Particularly without consulting me first." Nym didn't say anything. "Very well. I approve. Not you," he snapped, when Madam Pierce stepped forward to open the door that appeared beside the portrait, in what little room that was left in the dead end by the enormous painting.

Leaving the scowling housekeeper, Nym opened the door tentatively. Rather than the bedroom she had expected, she was greeted by a small room, almost completely dominated by a winding iron staircase. Light came from a few flickering torches, but Nym was so used to torches from Hogwarts that she hardly noted them, though they might once have given her pause. With growing trepidation, Nym mounted the stairs, climbing slowly as she worked muscles that had kinked from long hours on the train and then in the coach. The door at the top was solid and dark, some heavy wood seemingly made entirely of knots and burls. It swung open easily when she turned the silver handle, opening into a large room.

Three of the walls were entirely taken up by windows, one of which would open to let her onto a wrapping balcony. Skylights in the roof let in even more light, making the room bright despite the clouds outside. It wasn't decorated like the rest of the house, either, being airy rather than musty and cluttered. A few low chests and a desk sat against the walls, their wood simple and unadorned yet elegant. Most of the rest of the room was dominated by the canopied bed, its grey drapes hanging listlessly like sails awaiting the wind.

There was another occupant to the room, a little green creature that turned and bowed very low to her, wringing its knobbley hands. "Jenky is sorry, Miss. Jenky was bringing Miss's trunk, but Miss came too soon. Forgive Jenky, Miss."

"Er, of course Jenky."

"Thank you, Miss. If miss be needing anything, Miss must only call for Jenky, and Jenky will come." The creature disappeared. So, Nym thought, that's a house elf. James was right, they were completely bonkers. She didn't have time to contemplate this latest revelation, however, for a knock sounded on the inner door.

"Yes?" she called, hesitantly. She wasn't sure she wanted to meet any more of the crazy denizens of this house.

The door opened to admit a thin, pale woman. Her face, like Nym's, was thin, and though her features were larger, they were no less fine boned. Her hair was pale, set in a neat coil atop her head. Nym could knew immediately that this was her aunt Narcissa. The resemblance to Andromeda was too strong for it to be anyone else. There was her mother's determined chin, there her black eyes, there her fine blond hair. But it was her mother as she was ten years before, thin and watchful.

Narcissa smiled warmly, and embraced Nym, kissing each of her cheeks in greeting. "Oh, Nymphadora, how wonderful that you're here! I can't tell you how excited I am to have you here. Oh, but you do take after my mother." She smiled a little sadly. "Unfortunate that. Imagine, looking like that little brat Sirius, or worse, that good-for-aught Regulus. Oh, but no matter, my dear. We can't help our relations, can we?" Nym smiled a little tightly, agreeing whole heartedly. She'd write Mandy the first chance she got. "I've come to help you get ready for supper. It's so hard, I find, coming to a new place and being expected to know everything. I'll show you around after supper, of course. Our home is your home, for the summer."

She led the unresisting Nym to the trunk, which she opened and peered through. Her face fell a little at the clothes. "Oh, dear, we must find you something else. We'll go shopping tomorrow. This is all very well for a schoolgirl, but you are a lady."

Nym felt her smile becoming forced. Yes, her clothes were plain, and a little too big, but they were hers, dammit. Narcissa would have to accept that. And that she wasn't a lady, and saying it over and over wasn't going to make it so.

At last Narcissa settled on an outfit for Nym to wear, and shooed her towards the bathroom to change. Though short on time, thanks to Narcissa's insistence on picking through every stitch of clothing, Nym couldn't help but pause and marvel at the delicate pale marble that made up the bathroom.

Supper was torture, being slowly drawn out with elaborate manners and mindless, boring small talk. All through it, Lucius would quietly murmur things to Nym, like 'sit up straighter, good', and 'delicately, it's a butter knife not a butcher's cleaver', 'small sips, you're a lady, not a sailor'. Nym was sorely tempted to hurl her delicate crystal water goblet at her uncle's head.

Six courses later, Lucius retreated to his parlor for a brandy (and no wonder, Nym felt she might take to drinking if forced to sit through another meal like that) and Narcissa let Nym on her tour of the house. It was filled with stops, during which Narcissa talked about this portrait or that, and what a fine, upstanding witch or wizard each of the subject had been. The portraits listened to this history gravely, looked Nym up and down, and murmured a few empty words. Finally, when Nym thought she could stand it no more, Narcissa opened one of two enormous wooden doors. Nym could almost see the magic sparking through the wood, so heavily were they enchanted.

"Wards against fire, dust, mildew, all manner of things," Narcissa said, leading Nym into a circular room that dwarfed even the doors. Spread before them, and above them, in seemingly endless shelves were books, enough to swallow the entire Hogwarts library and still have room to spare. "Lucius's father was a noted collector of books. He nearly doubled the Malfoy collection, which was already one of the largest private libraries in the world." Nym hardly heard her, so absorbed was she by the sheer volume of books. "You're welcome to visit it any time you like, of course," Narcissa added. Nym could hardly believe her luck. Suddenly the summer didn't look so bad. It wasn't that she was a bookworm, but there was so much to be learned… and perhaps as many places to hide from her aunt and uncle.

"Good evening, madam," a voice whispered breathily. Nym turned to find herself confronted by a ghost, peering at her through its spectral bifocals. The man could have lived in the seventeenth century, or even before.

"Hello Anton," Narcissa replied. She didn't seem all that enthusiastic. "This is my niece, Nymphadora. Anton is our librarian, dear. If you ever need anything, he can find it for you I'm sure."

"Always a pleasure, Miss Nymphadora." He bowed stiffly, and it seemed he might be alive to feel the pain of his old joins creaking. "I hope you will find something to your taste, here." Nym smiled, liking the ghost's quaint formality and bookish air.

"I'm sure I will, thank you." Perhaps the summer would not be so bad after all. Perhaps.

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