CHAPTER THREE - He's My Cousin!

Draco Malfoy was hunched over a potion, licking his lips in concentration and tried to add one single drop of honeysuckle honey.

"MR. MALFOY!"

The eyedropper squeezed and the teaspoons' worth dropped in his potion, causing it to explode up in his face. He started wiping away the golden goo as someone knocked on his door.

"Mr. Malfoy?"

He went over, pawing away. "My father isn't here, Jonathan," He said to the main butler.

Jonathan bowed. "I know, I was referring to you—someone is here to see you, Young Master."

Draco sighed. "In a minute. Tell him—or her—to meet me in the, ah, studio in a minute."

"Yes sir."

Draco hurried into his private bathroom and washed the goop off his face. He changed his clothes and went to the studio where works of art hung.

A tall, fat man was waiting for him. He wore a suit with a waistcoat and a waistcoat watch. He kept dabbing at the sweat dripping down his large, reddish face. If he had a beard, he'd be a shoo-in for Father Christmas.

"Can I help you?" Draco asked, trying to sound older.

The man peered at him. "Mr. Malfoy?" He asked in a nasally, squeaky voice that sounded ridiculous with his looks. "Draco Malfoy?"

"Yyyyyess…" Draco said, folding his arms across his chest.

"My name is Mr. Prowen. I am your father's attorney." Draco found that more ridiculous than his voice. His father wouldn't have chosen someone like this. "I hate bothering you at this hour…" it was late, nearly midnight. "But I had to speak to you before the Ministry of Magic got in touch."

Draco raised his eyebrows. "What is it?"

"As you know—there was a fight." Prowen sniffled slightly. "Between some Death Eaters and a few members of the Phoenix."

"Yes."

"Well--I'm afraid to tell you, some Death Eaters died. Including your father."

Draco didn't move. He couldn't move. He was frozen in shock. His father? Dead? Was that even possible?

"Did you hear me?"

"Yes."

"Your father died a few hours ago. And your mother… well…"

"Died too."

"I'm afraid so, yes," Prowen said slowly, as if Draco were a small child. "Leaving you an orphan."

Draco sighed, brushing some blonde hairs from his eyes. "What's the point of all this, Porwin."

"Prowen. And because you are now an orphan, we must find you somewhere to live."

"I can live right here."

"I'm afraid not. Your father left you your fortune, but this place cannot be claimed until you are seventeen."

Draco grit his teeth. "Fine. Where do you expect me to live?"

"Welllll… I'm not sure your father told you this but Narcissa wasn't your—"

"Mother, I know," Draco said haughtily. "He told me. So?"

"Well, a blood relative is the first choice to send you."

"My father doesn't have any blood relatives. They all died."

"I know. As I was saying, a blood relative would be the best choice. And since Narcissa… well, her family is family by marriage and not by blood, we'd rather not send you with any of them."

Draco snorted. "Like they'd agree to take me in anyway?"

Prowen sighed. "We've tracked down family of your mother's."

Silence for a minute. Draco wasn't even breathing but finally said in a small voice, "My real mother?"

"Yes. Well, not your mother herself. She died, years ago. But she had a sister. Your aunt."

Draco took in deep breaths. He always wanted to know the truth of himself. Of who his mother really was. Lucius never really liked talking about it.

"Christ, Porin."

"Prowen," He corrected. "I've gotten in contact with them. It took some—ah—persuading, but they've agreed."

"Threatening, you mean," Draco said. "And the only reason they agreed is because they'll get a large amount of money, correct?"

"Yes, quite a bit every two weeks—even while you're at Hogwarts." He put on his hat, ready to leave. "Oh—one more thing. They're Muggle. Good day."

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Draco was sitting on his bed, shaking. He could hardly believe it. He was part Muggle? His real mother was Muggleborn? He had Muggle blood flowing through his veins? Had his father known that? Was that why he never told Draco?

He looked down at the address and information. Number Four something Drive. He couldn't quite read the word. P something. Pivot? Private? Prowen?

Your Aunt Petunia is married to a man named Vernon. They have a child—Dudley and have another child living with them. Another nephew.

Or at least that's what he figured it said. Crossing out the blurred words and letters, it read,

Our Aunt Petunia marr to man name Vernon. T have a chil –Dudley nd ha e anoher hil ivi g ith t em. N ther eph w. Ry.

Draco shook his head. Well, he wanted to know about his past and he was going to find out--whether he liked it or not.

The ry was part of a name. Larry? Barry? Oh well. He'd find out. But for some reason the other names seemed so familiar!

-------

The next morning he had to deal with blasted Ministry workers. We regret to inform you, blah-blah-blah. His closest blood relative, blah-blah-blah.

But then he was inspected. For signs of being a Death Eater. He was glad he hadn't the Dark Mark. You couldn't get it until you turned age seventeen—when you came of age.

Draco was given the key to his vault and told he had an hour to pack, so he went upstairs and tossed all his clothes in three parts of his trunk, all his school supplies in the fourth part (each lock opened another section), his sword collection in the fifth part and hair care stuff in the sixth.

Draco got dressed in rather baggy black jeans, a white undershirt and a black button-up T-shirt, though he left it unbuttoned. He put one of his dragon necklaces on and some chains on his pants. One good thing about that ass of a father dying was he was now able to wear whatever he liked.

He stood in front of his mirror and spiked up his hair with a spell. Then stepped back and nodded. He looked good. No, he looked damn good.

"I'm ready to go." He dragged his trunk down to the front hall, looking at all the Ministry workers crawling everywhere. It was odd, but oh well. Voldemort could deal with them.

Prowen was going with him in the limo. Draco sat back, watching through the tinted glass as his mansion disappeared over the horizon.

"I've done some—ah—digging around," Prowen said, clutching some papers.

"Yes?" Draco asked, folding his arms and sitting back.

"I found out the—ah—other nephew."

"Yes?"

"Your aunt's nephew."

"Yes. My cousin."

"Yes," Prowen coughed. "Well, it took a lot of digging around and I've finally found—um—who it is exactly."

"Oh?"

"Another orphaned Wizard from your year in school."

Draco sat straight up, eyes wide. Of course those names sounded familiar. The Dursleys. The Muggle family who took in--

Draco then snapped. He screamed, "HE'S MY COUSIN!"

Author's Note:

The internet is really annoying me right now… shockwave has destroyed my computer or something, I don't know. Anyway, yeah—reviews are more than welcome. I hope you like this story.