Ahem, Ahem. My promised notes to the reviewers.
To the unregistered reviewer: Thanks. Your cowardly unsigned review was equally cute, and equally amusing. In a moderate way of course. And P.S. I resent the use of patronizing review tactics.
The Miss: Butt raping goodness? I don't plan on using rape at all in my story, and as far as the butt thing goes, Draco's too beautiful for me to give him away to Harry. So I don't think this is gonna be slash. I'm really sorry for the disappointment, I didn't realize what a letdown it would be for some people.
Ryo Akuinnen: I like kittens too, and while I wasn't aiming for a cute, I'll take that over "moderately amusing" and lacking "butt raping goodness". So thanks.
And now more story . . .
Draco woke the next morning when the cleaning lady entered his room. Cleaning girl, actually. She couldn't have been more than a year or two older than him. He considered it fairly rude of her to just barge in on him like that—but she'd done it several times before, as she could not just sit around waiting for him to leave.
She could carry on a little more quietly, however, and less huffily. Ever since the first day when he'd snubbed her completely (she was a muggle after all), after she'd spent nearly an hour eyeing him hopefully while dusting, she'd been a pissy little strumpet. Downright annoying, even, bursting in whenever she felt and making a show of ignoring him.
"Oh!" She let out a cry of surprise. Turning to him, she said, "You're not supposed to have pets here,"
"What?" Draco stared at her, confused for a moment. Then he saw a fuzzy black tail flick near her feet, and remembered the box, the dark street, and the shabby little kitten. "It's not a pet," He quickly explained, sitting up. "I found it. Last night. And I didn't want to leave it in the streets,"
The girl flashed him an admiring look and scooped the cat up in her arms, turning away from him. Then, much to Draco's amusement, she began speaking to the kitten in a high pitched, mothering voice. "Aren't you darling, sweet baby, sweet baby kitty–,"
"He's not a very pretty cat," Draco acknowledged, sitting up in bed.
"Oh, you're wrong," She giggled, facing him again. "You're wrong about two things. First, you called it a him and this kitten is most definitely a she. And she's gorgeous, too, aren't you kitty baby? What are you naming her?" She asked Draco.
"How should I bloody know?" He snorted.
"Do you anything about kittens?"
"No, not really."
Sighing with annoyance, the girl set the cat on the bed and made for the door. "I'll be back," She announced.
Draco eyed the cat as it strutted confidently across the covers. "You think you're real special, don't you, cat?"
Ignoring him, it turned a circle then settled near his leg, apparently ready for a morning nap.
"Well you can forget that idea," Draco said sternly. "I've got to get up and tend to some things, namely you and all the trouble you're going to cause me. So don't even think you can use my leg as some sort of–nap cot!"
"You tell that cat," The cleaning girl returned, carrying a saucer and a carton of milk from the buffet in the lobby.
Heat rose in Draco's pale cheeks, but then he remembered that this girl was a muggle and accordingly inferior. He forgot his embarrassment at being caught conversing with the cat.
"It'll drink milk until it gets a little bigger . . . after that it just needs water and you can pretty much rely on it to find it's own food, if there are mice around at least. How long do you plan on staying here? Because if it grows up here then there'll be plenty of mice–,"
"I don't know how long I'm staying," Draco admitted. "I haven't heard from–I mean, I haven't decided yet."
"Ah," She sat down on the corner of his bed and poured a little milk onto the saucer. Poking the cat awake, and trying to entice it she continued, " And what's brought you here to begin with? You seem too young to be on your own just yet."
Draco searched his mind for something to tell her, something that wouldn't arouse suspicion. "I–my–me and my parents had–a row," he finished, stumbling.
"Oh," She nodded understandingly. "That's too bad. When I was seventeen me and my mum had an awful row, and I haven't been back there since. You should go back. Let you parents take care of you for a few more years at least."
Well I would, Draco thought. If I hadn't killed my father and driven my mother away . . .
"What's your name?" The girl asked, stroking the cat's back as it lapped from the saucer.
"Thomas," He lied.
"Well, Thomas, I'm Bridget and I think you're a bloody liar. But I understand how it is. When you're on the run you don't want your name spread around too much."
The muggle was sharper than her round, innocent features suggested, Draco had to hand it to her. She understood the way his mind worked, to an extent.
Eager for a change of conversation, he asked, "How long have you been working here?"
"Oh," She glanced around the room uneasily. "About four months."
"What did you do before that?" He asked.
"Nothing good," She replied sharply, looking away. Draco had made her uncomfortable. So much for having the Malfoy womanizing traits. He'd have to work on his skills . . .
But do I want to seduce the muggle cleaning lady, he wondered, shaking his head. "Do you live in town?"
"Yeah," She smiled. "I live about a block from here with some friends. It's a modest place, but it's home."
"Ah," He nodded.
"And what about you?" She wondered. "Where are you from?" Seeing the look of concern on his face she added assuredly, "Don't worry. I won't rat you out to the police or anything, or contact your parents. It's alright to tell me."
"London," He answered (A/N: I don't know where Draco lives. I'm making it up. This is B.S.) vaguely.
She gave him a skeptical look but did not question the matter anymore. Standing, she sighed and said, "I need to get back to work,"
"Oh," He stood, too, suddenly ashamed of the mess he'd made. "Don't bother with my room. I can take care of it myself."
"Are you sure?" She checked, peering at him curiously.
"Yeah," He nodded. "Go on,"
"You're cute, kid," She smiled. "Come to lunch with me today. We'll have sandwiches at the café at twelve, when I get off work. My treat."
"Noon?"
She nodded.
"All right,"
Draco spent the rest of the morning furiously cleaning his hotel room, showering, and doting on the kitten. She was not a beautiful cat, or particularly soft or friendly, but at the same time he was growing extremely fond of her.
"And what shall I name you little girl?" He lay back on the bed and set her on his chest. "Mab, maybe, after a great witch of the past? Or Nimm? If you were a boy, sweet cat, I'd name you Mordred. Or Oscar! But you're not a boy, are you? I could call you Le Faye. But you're not that either. Morgan Le Faye was beautiful. I think Nimm will do it, how do you like that, little thing?"
The cat lay down and began licking her paws, purring quietly. He stroked her velvety head, deciding that he'd tell Bridget the new name at lunch.
Then he dropped his hand and blinked, hard, realizing that he had a lunch date with a muggle.
A beautiful, smart muggle.
But a muggle nonetheless.
But he liked her.
But what would his father think?
His father was stone dead.
And who's rules had those been anyway? Only Lucius'. There had never been any justification for avoiding and disdaining muggles. Was there anything really wrong with them? Was the fact that they couldn't do magic enough to make them unworthy? Suddenly Draco realized that he had a lot of rules to question. The unspoken guidelines to being a Malfoy . . . but he didn't have to be a Malfoy anymore, so which of the guidelines would he keep and which would he . . . toss out?
He'd toss the muggle rule. He liked Bridget too well to blow her off at lunch. He would go. He would be friends with her until the time came when he had to leave. If that time ever came. Facing this possibility for the first time in the day light Draco felt an unmistakable sense of mourning. Was he going to lose the wizarding world in order to survive? Would all of his friends be muggles in the future? Would he . . . would he become a muggle, live one of their lives?
He shook his head, and glanced at the clock. It was time to go.
"Can you hold things down while I am gone, Nimm?" he fixed his cat with an expectant stare, inherited directly from his father.
The cat stood and leapt off his belly.
"Good. I should be back in an hour,"
Not that the cat cared. But it felt nice, telling someone where he was going. As if he had someone who was genuinely concerned.
To the unregistered reviewer: Thanks. Your cowardly unsigned review was equally cute, and equally amusing. In a moderate way of course. And P.S. I resent the use of patronizing review tactics.
The Miss: Butt raping goodness? I don't plan on using rape at all in my story, and as far as the butt thing goes, Draco's too beautiful for me to give him away to Harry. So I don't think this is gonna be slash. I'm really sorry for the disappointment, I didn't realize what a letdown it would be for some people.
Ryo Akuinnen: I like kittens too, and while I wasn't aiming for a cute, I'll take that over "moderately amusing" and lacking "butt raping goodness". So thanks.
And now more story . . .
Draco woke the next morning when the cleaning lady entered his room. Cleaning girl, actually. She couldn't have been more than a year or two older than him. He considered it fairly rude of her to just barge in on him like that—but she'd done it several times before, as she could not just sit around waiting for him to leave.
She could carry on a little more quietly, however, and less huffily. Ever since the first day when he'd snubbed her completely (she was a muggle after all), after she'd spent nearly an hour eyeing him hopefully while dusting, she'd been a pissy little strumpet. Downright annoying, even, bursting in whenever she felt and making a show of ignoring him.
"Oh!" She let out a cry of surprise. Turning to him, she said, "You're not supposed to have pets here,"
"What?" Draco stared at her, confused for a moment. Then he saw a fuzzy black tail flick near her feet, and remembered the box, the dark street, and the shabby little kitten. "It's not a pet," He quickly explained, sitting up. "I found it. Last night. And I didn't want to leave it in the streets,"
The girl flashed him an admiring look and scooped the cat up in her arms, turning away from him. Then, much to Draco's amusement, she began speaking to the kitten in a high pitched, mothering voice. "Aren't you darling, sweet baby, sweet baby kitty–,"
"He's not a very pretty cat," Draco acknowledged, sitting up in bed.
"Oh, you're wrong," She giggled, facing him again. "You're wrong about two things. First, you called it a him and this kitten is most definitely a she. And she's gorgeous, too, aren't you kitty baby? What are you naming her?" She asked Draco.
"How should I bloody know?" He snorted.
"Do you anything about kittens?"
"No, not really."
Sighing with annoyance, the girl set the cat on the bed and made for the door. "I'll be back," She announced.
Draco eyed the cat as it strutted confidently across the covers. "You think you're real special, don't you, cat?"
Ignoring him, it turned a circle then settled near his leg, apparently ready for a morning nap.
"Well you can forget that idea," Draco said sternly. "I've got to get up and tend to some things, namely you and all the trouble you're going to cause me. So don't even think you can use my leg as some sort of–nap cot!"
"You tell that cat," The cleaning girl returned, carrying a saucer and a carton of milk from the buffet in the lobby.
Heat rose in Draco's pale cheeks, but then he remembered that this girl was a muggle and accordingly inferior. He forgot his embarrassment at being caught conversing with the cat.
"It'll drink milk until it gets a little bigger . . . after that it just needs water and you can pretty much rely on it to find it's own food, if there are mice around at least. How long do you plan on staying here? Because if it grows up here then there'll be plenty of mice–,"
"I don't know how long I'm staying," Draco admitted. "I haven't heard from–I mean, I haven't decided yet."
"Ah," She sat down on the corner of his bed and poured a little milk onto the saucer. Poking the cat awake, and trying to entice it she continued, " And what's brought you here to begin with? You seem too young to be on your own just yet."
Draco searched his mind for something to tell her, something that wouldn't arouse suspicion. "I–my–me and my parents had–a row," he finished, stumbling.
"Oh," She nodded understandingly. "That's too bad. When I was seventeen me and my mum had an awful row, and I haven't been back there since. You should go back. Let you parents take care of you for a few more years at least."
Well I would, Draco thought. If I hadn't killed my father and driven my mother away . . .
"What's your name?" The girl asked, stroking the cat's back as it lapped from the saucer.
"Thomas," He lied.
"Well, Thomas, I'm Bridget and I think you're a bloody liar. But I understand how it is. When you're on the run you don't want your name spread around too much."
The muggle was sharper than her round, innocent features suggested, Draco had to hand it to her. She understood the way his mind worked, to an extent.
Eager for a change of conversation, he asked, "How long have you been working here?"
"Oh," She glanced around the room uneasily. "About four months."
"What did you do before that?" He asked.
"Nothing good," She replied sharply, looking away. Draco had made her uncomfortable. So much for having the Malfoy womanizing traits. He'd have to work on his skills . . .
But do I want to seduce the muggle cleaning lady, he wondered, shaking his head. "Do you live in town?"
"Yeah," She smiled. "I live about a block from here with some friends. It's a modest place, but it's home."
"Ah," He nodded.
"And what about you?" She wondered. "Where are you from?" Seeing the look of concern on his face she added assuredly, "Don't worry. I won't rat you out to the police or anything, or contact your parents. It's alright to tell me."
"London," He answered (A/N: I don't know where Draco lives. I'm making it up. This is B.S.) vaguely.
She gave him a skeptical look but did not question the matter anymore. Standing, she sighed and said, "I need to get back to work,"
"Oh," He stood, too, suddenly ashamed of the mess he'd made. "Don't bother with my room. I can take care of it myself."
"Are you sure?" She checked, peering at him curiously.
"Yeah," He nodded. "Go on,"
"You're cute, kid," She smiled. "Come to lunch with me today. We'll have sandwiches at the café at twelve, when I get off work. My treat."
"Noon?"
She nodded.
"All right,"
Draco spent the rest of the morning furiously cleaning his hotel room, showering, and doting on the kitten. She was not a beautiful cat, or particularly soft or friendly, but at the same time he was growing extremely fond of her.
"And what shall I name you little girl?" He lay back on the bed and set her on his chest. "Mab, maybe, after a great witch of the past? Or Nimm? If you were a boy, sweet cat, I'd name you Mordred. Or Oscar! But you're not a boy, are you? I could call you Le Faye. But you're not that either. Morgan Le Faye was beautiful. I think Nimm will do it, how do you like that, little thing?"
The cat lay down and began licking her paws, purring quietly. He stroked her velvety head, deciding that he'd tell Bridget the new name at lunch.
Then he dropped his hand and blinked, hard, realizing that he had a lunch date with a muggle.
A beautiful, smart muggle.
But a muggle nonetheless.
But he liked her.
But what would his father think?
His father was stone dead.
And who's rules had those been anyway? Only Lucius'. There had never been any justification for avoiding and disdaining muggles. Was there anything really wrong with them? Was the fact that they couldn't do magic enough to make them unworthy? Suddenly Draco realized that he had a lot of rules to question. The unspoken guidelines to being a Malfoy . . . but he didn't have to be a Malfoy anymore, so which of the guidelines would he keep and which would he . . . toss out?
He'd toss the muggle rule. He liked Bridget too well to blow her off at lunch. He would go. He would be friends with her until the time came when he had to leave. If that time ever came. Facing this possibility for the first time in the day light Draco felt an unmistakable sense of mourning. Was he going to lose the wizarding world in order to survive? Would all of his friends be muggles in the future? Would he . . . would he become a muggle, live one of their lives?
He shook his head, and glanced at the clock. It was time to go.
"Can you hold things down while I am gone, Nimm?" he fixed his cat with an expectant stare, inherited directly from his father.
The cat stood and leapt off his belly.
"Good. I should be back in an hour,"
Not that the cat cared. But it felt nice, telling someone where he was going. As if he had someone who was genuinely concerned.