PissedOffEskimo
Pairing: HP/DM (graphic); HP/GW (mild); HP/LM (non-con); HP/SS (implied)
Rating: R (Finally)
Author's Note: Sleep.
Summer 5: Part B
July 16, 1995
When he fell out of the fireplace, he found himself on his hands and knees in front of Draco and Mrs. Malfoy in a very large room. It looked like an entrance hall; there was a door to the left that was large and heavy, a staircase to the right that led to a banister on the second floor, and an archway behind them that led into a stuffy sitting room. Looking up, he saw a massive chandelier hanging from a vaulted ceiling.
Draco smirked at him, "Is the air nice down there, Potter?"
As Harry pushed himself to his feet, Narcissa stepped forward and put a hand on her son's shoulder, "Now, now, Draco, don't be rude to our guest. Hello, Harry." She was wearing a long, sweeping white dress and white gloves that had the effect of making her fair complexion almost ghostly in appearance.
She held her gloved hand out and Harry only barely remembered that he was supposed to kiss it. With a bored smile, she looked at the two of them. "Well, now that Harry is here and appears to be in good health, I'll let you two catch up. Lunch will be promptly at noon, Draco, do not be late."
For someone who was so insistent that she didn't want to be alone, she seemed awfully eager to get away from them. Draco, however, didn't seem to notice. "Come on, Potter, I'm going to show what real a wizarding home looks like." Harry ignored the comment and followed wordlessly. Three hours later, he was exhausted, starving, and very thankful that it was nearly noon.
The Malfoy family library was large, granted and absolutely crammed with books, but not nearly so large and full as Hogwarts. Draco insisted that it was a better library, however, because his father only kept practical things in it and nothing was restricted. With his new knowledge of Lucius Malfoy, Harry suspected 'practical' meant Dark.
The Malfoy family kitchens were large as well, boasting three house elves that greeted the boys nervously while trying to prepare what looked like an eight course meal. There were two dining rooms, the formal dining room, which could seat nearly sixty guests, had walls painted in a deep burgundy and two long, cheery wood tables decorated in fresh flowers, despite the fact that no one was dining there at the present; the informal dining room had walls painted in a much paler red, to the point of being nearly pink, with a circular table in the centre that could accommodate at least fifteen and flower chairs. Candles and lace decorated the table, and three place settings had already been arranged with delicate silver plates and red napkins. Harry could hardly keep his mouth closed when Draco told him that this was where they were going to be eating lunch.
Draco's bedroom was nearly twice the size of Harry's dungeon room, with it's own bathroom, a king sized bed, three bookcases full of trinkets (although very few books), a desk littered with parchment and ink in varying colours, and a wardrobe that Draco said was enchanted to hold all of his clothing and help him pick things to wear. He had said 'all of his clothing' as if he had a great deal; looking around the room, Harry didn't doubt that in the least.
From Draco's room, he had been forced to lean out the window and look over the grounds while Draco pointed at things in the distance. "That's the gardens, there are three of them, mother loves plants, and that's the feeding grounds."
"Feeding grounds for what?"
"We have a unicorn, two Thestrals, and a whole herd of Andalusian horses. Father says that before they banned dragons, we had one of those, too."
Draco pointed to a flat plane of grass off to the right, barely visible from where they were. "Over there is the meadow. It's not good for much, but if we want to go flying, the house elves will put the Quidditch goals up for us and we can practice."
A little bell tingled in the corner and Draco looked up, startled. "Lunch! Come on, or we'll be late."
Harry scrambled after him, tripping over his own feet as he did so. Draco barrelled through the halls and down the stairs, skidding to a halt at the doors leading into the informal dining room. Draco turned around and looked at Harry for a moment before giving an exasperated sigh, "If you keep dressing like that, she'll want to take you shopping."
"She can't. Dumbledore says I'm not to leave the Manor."
Draco huffed, taking a moment to dust off Harry's shoulder and ignoring the annoyed looks he was getting. "As if that would stop Narcissa Malfoy. You give her cause and she'll have the whole of Diagon Ally here at her disposal before the weeks out.
Harry brushed Draco's hand off his shoulder, trying to pretend it didn't tingle where he'd touched. "Leave off, Malfoy."
The doors were pushed open by two house elves wearing worn pillowcases. They didn't look at the boys, but bowed their heads respectfully before popping out of existence. Narcissa was standing next to the table, wearing a dark blue robe over her white dress. She smiled at them. In Harry's opinion, it was a very unpleasant, calculated smile.
"Good afternoon, boys. Have a seat." She sat down gracefully, brushing her skirt under herself as she did so. "We'll be having quail."
Harry sat at the other end of the table, next to Draco and looked at his plate dubiously. Perched on top of it was what looked like a very tiny, cooked chicken, wings and all, in a pile of naked, steamed vegetables, surrounded by a few, delicate drips of reddish sauce. Draco and Narcissa had both begun eating, holding it still with a fork and pulling the meet off with a small, pincer like utensil.
With a deep, steadying breath, Harry attempted to follow suit. It took him several minutes to get the little bird to stay still and another few to figure out how to get the meat to come off in strips without ripping and tearing at it. He touched the frayed piece of meat to the sauce and stuck it in his mouth bravely. The first thing he noticed was that the meat was very tough, then the sweet of the red sauce overpowered his senses and he screwed up his face, trying to determine what it reminded him of.
"It's raspberries." He looked up to see Narcissa watching him, "The sauce, it's made from raspberries."
He nodded and swallowed thickly, before setting about to finish the rest. In the end, he was quite proud of himself, even if the jumbled pile of broken bones on his plate resembled nothing like the neat little bird carcass on Draco's and Narcissa's.
"Well, that was lovely." She hadn't spoken the entire time they ate, hadn't even looked at the two boys sitting with her at the table. Standing up, she straightened her robe and smiled tightly. "You boys go play and I'll see you at dinner. Seven, Draco, don't forget."
She swept out and Draco immediately stood, taking Harry's arm, "Come on, let's get the house elves to set up the Quidditch Pitch."
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Draco had been right, about the way Harry dressed, that was. Narcissa had frowned at Harry's beat up attire for three days. At every meal, she looked him up and down - breakfast, lunch, tea, and dinner - and every time she saw him, her frown deepened. He even tried to wear his best outfit, a pair of trousers that only showed the barest hint of sock, and a white shirt with no wholes or stains at all. He was sure that this, on top of his best Hogwart's robes, would be sure to impress her. Instead, he woke up on the fourth day to a knock on his guest room door.
The guest room was nearly as large as Draco's room, with a huge canopy bed, draped in blue and yellow, and large paintings of austere looking wizards. There was a desk with three bottles of ink and an assortment of quills make from what looked like peacock feathers. The chandelier that hung over the centre of the room made the whole thing feel far too formal. Harry sat up blearily and wiped his eyes with the hand of his sleeve. "Who'z it?"
The large, double doors opened and Narcissa swept past his bed, her face smiling as Harry had never seen it do before. "Good morning, Harry, did you sleep well?"
Without waiting for an answer, she pushed open the thick curtains covering his windows and he turned his head away, blinking at the flood of light. Draco was standing in the doorway, looking wide-eyed at his mother. He came forward to the side of Harry's bed, looking over his shoulder expectantly.
Draco pulled himself up onto the bed and lowered his voice, "I told you."
Harry leaned forward, pushing the blankets away. There wasn't anything at the door that he could see. "Told me what?"
"I told you that if you kept dress…"
"Draco, no whispering, it isn't polite." Narcissa patted the bedspread once before smiling down at Harry reverently. He hadn't even seen her approaching. "Seeing as you're going to be with us for a while, Harry, I thought it was about time you had something proper to wear."
Suddenly, Harry knew what Draco had meant. He looked at the blond, startled, then back at the tall, austere woman beaming down at him like Dumbledore with sweets. "I… You don't have to. I think my clothes are…"
"Nonsense, Harry, it gives me great pleasure. Now, stand up, don't be shy."
Draco sniggered besides him and grabbed his arm, pulling him from the bed. Narcissa looked disapprovingly at Harry's faded night pants and threadbare shirt. "No, that just won't do at all. Paolo, if you could?"
A very short, little man with dark hair, streaked blond at the front, wearing layers of different coloured clothes came bustling into the room, followed by several twittering girls, each carrying arm-loads of fabric squares. While Narcissa spoke with the wizard named Paolo, Harry leaned over to Draco, who had yet to stop smirking, and whispered, "You're mother is insane."
His smirk fell, "She's not."
"Yes, she is. For the past few days she's been like the ice queen and suddenly she's all smiles and light? If that's not mental…" He didn't bother to finish, because one of the girls had come over to him and was draping a patch of fabric over his shoulder. After a few seconds, Paolo nodded and turned back to Narcissa.
The girl removed the fabric, then looked at Harry for a second before breaking into a fit of giggles and running off to join the others, all of whom were whispering to each other and staring openly at him. Draco waited a few seconds to make sure his mother was fully engrossed with the designer before leaning back into Harry. "She's not mental, Potter, she has a project. If you think this is bad, you should see her around the winter holidays. We have a party every year, over two hundred invites and…"
He stopped as another girl rushed forward and laid another piece of fabric over his shoulder. He looked at her nervously and she went bright red, shaking slightly in what Harry suspected was an effort not to giggle. Paolo shook his head, frowning, "No, it needs something else."
Harry was starting to get very annoyed, "I really don't need…"
"I know!" He came over to Harry and pulled another bit of fabric off the girl's arm and laid it next to the first before stepping away. With a bright smile, he nodded and turned back to Narcissa, clapping his hands once in enthusiasm.
The girl looked at Harry shyly, taking the fabric away. Harry, who was feeling increasingly awkward, managed a tight, "Hi," that sent the girl running back to her friends. Draco didn't bother to hide his laughter this time, but stopped when his mother gave him a reproving look.
For the next hour, Harry was made to stand still and let giggling girls put cloth after cloth over his shoulder. He really couldn't imagine that buying a set of clothing should be such a production, but every time he so much as opened his mouth in protest, he had either been interrupted or outright ignored.
When Paolo finally left, Harry was hungry he was not in the mood for Draco's mockery. Narcissa had patted him on the head condescendingly and told them to meet her downstairs for brunch as soon as Harry was dressed. While he had rummaged through his clothes, pulling out a distinctly ragged pair of jeans and an undeniably muggle t-shirt, he had had to endure Draco sitting on the bed, saying things like, "That just won't do!" and "With that skin, I'd hardly go with cotton."
It had taken every ounce of will power he had not to pelt something small and hard the other boy's head. Thankfully, after the morning's fiasco, they had eaten in relative silence, as Harry was suffering a headache and Narcissa seemed to have taken particular offence to his attire.
When they were done, Draco had gone for a walk outside and Harry had gone with him, because he was terrified of what might happen if he went back into his room. He had the irrational fear that another designer would jump out from behind the large wardrobe and start taking more measurements. They had been walking in silence for nearly half an hour, except for the occasional chuckle from Draco, when the other boy suddenly spoke, nearly making Harry trip over his own feet. "I did warn you."
"About what?"
"My mother. I told you that if you kept dressing like common muggle filth, that she would take it upon herself to bestow you with a proper set of robes."
Harry looked down at his clothes. He didn't think he dressed like filth, he looked a damn site better in these than he had in Dudley's cast offs. "You really are a prat, Malfoy."
Draco raised an elegant eyebrow, "Maybe, but at least I have taste."
Harry tried not to look too confused by that, especially the part where he'd realised that Draco's eyebrow was elegant. "I've got a headache. I'm going inside to take a nap."
With a dramatic sigh, Draco turned around. "Don't," he struggled with himself for a moment, before adding, "I'll stop making fun of you, even if you deserve it."
"I meant it. I've got a headache."
Draco pulled out his wand and cast a spell at Harry, who dropped to the ground and rolled out of the way without thinking. The spell whizzed past his ear and hit the wall, leaving a scuffmark and Harry turned to face a very annoyed Draco. "What the bloody hell was that for?"
"Language, Potter. It's a spell for headaches. You've got one, I'd thought it might be... nice of me, I suppose, if I relieved you of it before I dragged you around the Manor."
Why Draco thought Harry had any intention of being dragged around the manor when he had a headache, he didn't know, but he sat still while Draco cast the spell again. "Dolens solamenus."
The headache dissipated instantly and Harry stop up, wiping the grass off his knees with a sheepish, "Thanks."
Draco shrugged and suddenly took him by the wrist, "Come on, I want to show you the unicorn."
-tbc-