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Chapter 4 - Day One
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As she flew, she recalled the first time she rode on a broom: she hadn't enjoyed it at all, but this was actually quite pleasant. She felt safer on this large platform rather than a narrow strip of wood. She flew the ten minutes, then immediatly turned right to follow the stream, but she didn't really need to look much further. A castle-like home was looming in the distant horizon. It only took her another minute or so to reach the perimeter of the property. She tugged apprehensively on the large invisibility cloak and checked her compass to find where the Northwest wing would be and directed the rug there. She got to the large room on the corner and peered in, tampering with the equipment in her ear.
The wide windows made it rather easy to see almost the entire room, what she couldn't see from one, she could see from the others. When she noticed that Draco didn't seem to be in his room at all, she just regaurded evverything in the room with scrutiny -- how different it was from her own. Large green drapes lined the windows, but were thankfully open. A black comforter with black sheets was littered on the bed and greenish pillows were scattered about on the floor. A large mahogany desk was settled against a far wall with dozens of quills and pieces of parchment. The walls were decorated smartly with what looked like original works that could probably go for a hundred-thousand galleons easily. The place did everything but scream rich. She also saw serpents everywhere; the design on his desk, bedposts, in most of the paintings. Small skulls decorated the top of his dresser, as well as a long thing sword embroidered with jewels and the Slytherin crest.
Before she could keep looking around, she was distracted by a tall blonde haired boy wrenching the door open and shutting it unceremoniously behind him. Her breath caught in her throat and she panicked about getting caught. She knew he couldn't see her but her breathing remained irregular nevertheless. Malfoy came in looking ruffled, but then again, he always looked like that. He sat down at his desk, took out a quill and began to write. It must have been a rather short letter because he was done very quickly. He marched over to a corner where a large black owl was perched on a stand, uncaged. Hermione assumed it was trained enough to not need to worry about such 'petty' things as cages; she scoffed. He walked over to the window farthest from hermione and set it loose with the newly written letter clutched in its talons. They both watched it fly off before he shut the window and walked to a small chest. He took something out in a large black case and set it on the end of his bed. Before he could open it, however, a small knock was heard from the door.
"Come in, be quick about it," drawled Malfoy smoothly. A small house elf came in carrying a tray of cookies and milk as well as several pills that rolled about on the tray. Hermione could actually hear them rolling and made a mental note to congradulate Fred and George on another great invention. Her curiuos side also took over and she wondered why he had to take so many pills in the first place. The elf then set down the tray on the large desk and turned to its master.
"Sir, Master Malfoy, would you like Kito to clean your room for yous, sir?" Kito the hosue elf asked tentatively, fingering with the filthy pillowcase he (or she, Hermione still found it most difficult to tell) was wearing.
"No, clean it tomorrow when I'm out. Do not touch the cabinet." Malfoy spat.
"Yes sir, Kito knows sir."
"Good, now get out," he snarled. He made a kicking gesture and the elf yelped and darted out of the room in an unnaturally fast manner. Hermione tried not to yell at him through the window. Her SPEW days were long since over but that did not mean she didn't still hold resentment for the people who abused them. Malfoy turned again to the case that laid haphazzardly on his unmade bed. Hermione was expecting some kind of weapon, maybe a potion kit made up entirely of deadly poisons, or perhaps even a dead body. What she saw however made her feel many things at once; one was confusion, which then quickly turned to amusment, and then back again. Malfoy was taking out a full length, dark-wooded violin and then began tightening the bowstrings. He didn't take out any music, but merely tuned his instrument and began to play a slow melody -- a wounded song, full of sadness and greif.
She watched, entranced, and no longer amused. She couldn't for the life of her look away. There was no way the little ferret she knew would be pent up in his room, not wreaking havoc, AND playing a violin -- and well! His eyes were closed and it seemed as if he was putting his soul -- if he indeed had one -- into the notes he played. This went on for a long while until all of the sudden, the doors to his room burst open.
Hermione's eyes immediately went to the tall, sleek, and slightly staggering man standing in the doorway. She recognized him immediately as Lucius, Draco's father. She noticed also, when she looked back at Draco, that the violin, as well as its case, had vanished. She had the strong feeling that Lucius would not approve of such an "obviously" girly hobby. Draco straightened up but still managed to look haughty. How he did this, she was not entirely sure.
"Where's your mother? I told her not to leave the study, I just got back and she can't follow the one instruction I gave her!" Draco could smell the liquor on him even though he was several feet away.
"Well, did you honestly think she would stay there for the ten some hours you were away? I would have left too," Draco said coldly, but in earnest.
"That is because you don't have the manners or discipline to be a dignified Malfoy. Maybe I should teach you some right now?" Lucius slurred, taking out his wand. Draco barely had time to react, and only narrowly avoidied getting hit by the Crucio curse. Lucius cursed and attempted again, but before he could get the words out of his mouth, he was blasted out of Draco's room, into the hallway and crashed against the wall. He fell to a heap on the floor and did not stir again. Hermione eyes quickly darted back to Draco who walked over to his door, kicked his fathers feet away and slammed it shut, pocketing his wand.
"I'll pay for that tomorrow," he mumbled angrily. He then threw himself on his bed and a journal appeared on his pillow. He took the quill out that had also appeared and turned to the near center of the book. He began to write furiously. Draco Malfoy, Slytherin badboy extrordinare has a diary? Journal, excuse me. Intriqued, Hermione deviated from the window she was currently stationed to a different window to get a better view at what he was writing, but he shifted his other hand slightly, sheilding it from view. Hermione was thuroughly peeved. He wrote for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, he wrapped things up, closed the journal with the quill still inside it and it disapated into nothing. He sat up in bed looking a little calmer than he did before he wrote whatever it was down.
It was now nearing 2 AM and whilst Hermione was wide awake, it looked as though Draco was going to sleep. He slid off his pants, threw them over his shoulder and went to the restroom that was attached to his room. Hermione scolded herself for wishing momentarily that the bathroom had a window. When he returned some ten minutes later, his hair was let loose, no gel whatsoever and he looked very strange to her at first, but she'd get over it; she was sure. He was shirtless now as well and Hermione, being the little prude she was, looked away and fought the urge to glimpse back at his well toned chest. He climbed into his large bed, kicked the comforter off the side completely and slid under the cool black sheets. They contrasted so well to his pale skin that he seemed almost spectral under the moons gaze. He took a glance out the window to Hermione's left and stared for a long time, Hermione noted, until he finally drifted to sleep. He tossed and turned all the while Hermione watched... observed. She checked Lucius's room as well, but the shades were drawn and all she could hear was steady breathing. At 4:50 AM, she set off back in the direction of the cabin and landed around 5:10, choosing to take the scenic route under the ever-brighteing sky. It was nearing dawn.
When she came inside, she expected to have to wake Lupin but he was already wide awake, drinking coffee and reading something.
"Oh heavens Hermione, you're back!" Lupin exclaimed, setting down the papers. "I know you were under the cloak, but I was still worried -- did you find anything out?" Lupin implored of her.
Hermione told him everything of importance and only when she was finished did he speak.
"I figured as much after what I saw this morning. You know his mother doesn't think its safe to join until he's 18 -- I'm personally very surprised that he wasn't already killed for not being able to kill Albus. Then again, this might be because he's Lucius' son and the job got done anyway... I'm sure Voldemort has his reasons."
"I'm sure he does. So, did YOU find anything out about the meeting that Harry and Ron observed? Oh, and can you tell me anything about that secret mission? I know you know!" Hermione demanded.
"Of course I know! But there's no way I'm telling you, missy. You'll find out when the rest of them do. If they do, that is. Meanwhile, the meeting that Harry was at -- well, they couldn't find out too much and some we already know. They're going to head out with some new tactic, but we already know all about that. Some of the most useful information we gathered is that He's heading for Moscow. He had definately gotten stronger, I'm sad to report, they all saw him. Harry was the only one that didn't flinch. I fear for that boy you know, he's been through too much already and he's only 17. I don't think I could have done most of the things he has and still be sane to tell the tale. Still, I hope he doesn't do something stupid -- Merlin know's he's done it before..." He stared pointedly at Hermione as if to say "so have you, though". Hermione shrugged.
"So he's off to find the remaining Horcruxes then?" Hemione asked, though she already knew the answer. Lupin sighed.
"Yes, I'm afraid so -- a lot of us were against it, but technically speaking, he IS of age, so there's really nothing that we can do to stop him. Anyway, I'm afraid I've gabbed too much, my shift is up, you can go ahead and get some sleep." With that, he patted her on the shoulder and walked out of the house. ---As an afterthough, he came back in and grabbed his coffee cup and left again, rug in hand. Hermione trudged off to bed. When she got there she glanced at the window which was a stormy grey color, though it wasn't raining --not yet... just looked miserable, just as she felt; she went to sleep.
The next 2 weeks pretty much went by without incident, nothing too out of the ordinary happened-- more fights between the Malfoy's, talks with Lupin and the like. Nothing happened that is -- until one fateful morning when Hermione woke up to a window that was snowing so fiercely, she feared for the day ahead. And how right she was.