Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter!
The next day, Draco paced in the manor's living room. There was no reason to wasting energy scuffing up the hardwood floor that morning. Mittsy would have his head for the marks he'd left on the polished floors.
He was having an excellent morning. Mittsy made his Earl Grey tea the perfect temperature. His omelet contained two eggs, bell peppers, onions, and mushrooms; exactly as he liked in. After breakfast he went on a pleasant walk through the ground's garden, even with the slight chill in the air.
The walk revealed that the first bunch of roses were in bloom, the rest soon to follow.
His mother's garden had always been a sanctuary for Draco. A place where he could relax and bask in the sun. He'd often sought out the garden when he felt overwhelmed. During his tumultuous teenage years, he had practically lived there.
All in all, there couldn't have been a more perfect morning. Then, why had he been pacing for the past few hours.
Draco sighed as he stopped, staring into the fireplace. Orange flames licked at the cracking wood. The light gave the surrounding furniture a warm glow and had shadows dancing across the floor. Draco wondered idly what spell the Hogwarts dining hall used to replicate the sky. The room could do with some brightening, even if it's from an artificial sky.
Despite the lack of natural light, it was Draco's second favorite room in the manor. His favorite being the library.
The fireplace was inlaid with grey marble. A soft, brown wood engraved with the Malfoy Crest framed the marble. The grey couch, handpicked by Draco himself, was plush and made with a smooth cloth. It was as comfortable as any bed, which could be the reason Draco found himself dozing midday, a book on his chest. A small table placed in front of the couch had a shaggy, Slytherin green rug beneath it, protecting Draco's feet from the cold floor.
As Draco stared into the flames, Isabelle crossed his mind. It seemed that other kids were punishing those with criminal parents and none of the adults cared enough to put an end to it. Draco hadn't given a thought to the Death Eater children who were still minors.
He'd been too busy feeling sorry for himself.
They weren't children in the public's eyes. All anyone saw was their parents' choices. Their kids were something for people to sneer at and blame for their misfortunes. Many Death Eaters sentenced to Azkaban, as demanded by the wizarding world. Still, this did little to satisfy their anger.
The public needed some place to direct such strong, collected feelings. And since the Death Eaters were out of reach, they turned to their damned children to enact their own version of justice.
It wasn't right. Even Draco could recognize that - he had seen pure evil in the eyes of a crazed man. He could tell when something was villainous, and Isabelle is so, so far from evil.
Draco would be the first to say he deserved punishment, but somehow, he'd been given a second chance. Isabelle shouldn't be condemned for what was out of her control. One as young as her shouldn't have such sad eyes.
Draco wasn't normally a man of fantastical thought, but he couldn't help believing that this was his chance to repent for his crimes. He would finally choose the side of the light. An idea began to form before Draco had even decided to start one.
The blonde turned from the fireplace. Blinking away the grey spots in his vision, caused by the light of the fire, as he hurried to his potion's lab. He threw open the doors of the oak cabinet and with single proficient movement plucked the desired potion from the many glass vials.
"Mittsy!" he called for his lone house elf. She appeared in front of the man with a pop.
Mittsy was young by house elf standards and had been with the family for as long as Draco could remember.
The small elf's long ears perked upward; her left ear slightly higher than her right. She had a long, pointed nose that upturned at the tip and wore a green cashmere gown that fell to her calves. Her woolly socks covered most of her lower legs, and brown knitted hat with holes to accommodate her ears.
A struggle ensued when Draco had first presented the clothes to the elf. Mittsy shed many tears that day. All the while, throwing everything within reach at Draco with surprising accuracy.
However, once it was explained that he wasn't trying to force her out of the manor, she accepted the gifts with enthusiasm. After that, Mittsy demanded nothing but the best clothes. She wanted all other house elves to envy her (and to prove that she had the best Master of all).
"Master Malfoy be calling Mittsy," she said.
"Yes, I need you to prepare a few rooms and make enough food to accommodate guests." Draco told the elf.
"Right away, Master Malfoy!" Mittsy responded, then disappeared with a snap of her fingers.
Draco downed the brown mixture in one go. Shuddering at the disgusting taste, he braced a hand on the wall as his body changed. Once the disorienting feeling passed, Draco checked the mirror to ensure nothing was out of place.
Staring back at him was an average looking man with brown hair and eyes. His square face a tad broader than Draco's own. He was of average height and was slightly on the chubby side. This was the perfect disguise for Draco's plan, one could see him a thousand times but never remember him.
Drawing out his wand, Draco cast a quick timing charm that would notify him when an hour has passed. Polyjuice was particularly fickle potion. Any minuscule change in variables would affect the length of time that the magic would work.
Draco left his house with determination. The Orphanage for Wayward Witches and Wizards had better watch out - Howard Humphrey was on his way.
The woman at the front desk was swift to fetch the facilities director, Suzie Tally, once he'd made his made-up position at the Ministry known.
A plump woman whose auburn hair had streaks of grey at the temples greeted Draco with a firm handshake. She wore a lavender shirt adorned with many ruffles and her khaki pants had a dark stain on the leg from jelly coated fingers. Her shoes made for comfort not style.
Tally must have chosen the most uncomfortable seat in the whole place for her office. Draco had to force himself from shifting on the hard surface as she droned on with her grievances with the Ministry.
She recounted the times the Ministry ignored her letters, how understaffed they were, that more funding was needed, etc.
Apparently, war increased the number of children in an orphanage. Who knew?
And as the blonde listened, one thought cropped up: he should have thought this through more.
He cursed his rash decision. Far too Gryffindor-like; there was no chance that his scheme would succeed. And if his fake credentials won't give him up, it would be because he had hexed this woman out of annoyance.
What a headline that would make: 'The youngest Malfoy finally detained, not from war crimes but because some woman wouldn't stop talking.'
"So, Mr. Humphrey. You're here on behalf of the Ministry about the children of the unsavory families?" Tally inquired, her high-pitched voice brought Draco out of his spiraling thoughts. Her gaze sharp enough that he quickly checked his occlumency shields.
"Ah, yes,"
"Thank Merlin," she exclaimed, a wide smile on her face. She reached for her wand and waved the slender piece of wood, making several files fly into her hand.
"I've had to look after these troublemakers for way too long. No one wants to adopt these types of kids. I must say the Ministry has been slow answering to my complaints about these five. I don't want them going around corrupting all the good children," she complained, giving Draco a disapproving look. Like the inability of the Ministry was his doing.
"Troublemakers? What have they done?" Draco asked.
"It's not what they've done, but what they will do in the future. With this group it's only a matter of time," she said, tapping a finger to the side of her nose knowingly.
"It is as they all say: the apple doesn't fall far from the tree, and both of us know this bundle is rotten."
Unless she was a seer, Draco doubted this woman knew anything about these kids. Even then, he'd never put much stock in the art of divination after meeting Professor Trelawney.
But against his believe, the man voiced his agreement. This was a lesson he learned early in life; if one was to be remembered fondly it wouldn't do to disagree with others. Lucius made sure Draco knew this, so he could climb the metaphorical political ladder.
It wasn't a lesson he acted on often; Draco loved to argue, after all. But he did know when to use it for his advantage.
"I apologize for the delay in following up with your complaints. It would have been sooner, but detaining dark wizards is quiet a demanding task. I do hope you understand." Draco bluffed.
"Of course, of course! Here you are, Mr. Humphrey. All the papers for guardianship are in these files. They're just waiting for your signature and those kids will be your problem," she states, passing the files over to Draco. He accepted the stack, surprised at how fast she'd relinquished the documents.
"Don't you need to see my credentials or ID? Or to make sure everything is correct when I sign these parchments, Ms. Tally?" he asked in disbelief.
"There's no need. I trust you, Mr. Humphrey. I'm sure there isn't another soul who'd want to take these kids. I'll go get them right now," she said, giving him a wink on the way out.
And that was it. Draco stared at the empty doorway for a minute. All he had to do now was sign a few papers and the children were free to go with him.
At this moment, Draco understood Gryffindors better than he likely ever will again. This plan, although rushed and short-noticed, had somehow worked. None of his previous schemes had worked out as well, despite the hours he took to plan them.
Just based off the number of Potter's ideas that worked out for him, Draco should have realized recklessness was the best tactic.
Draco opened the first file. He planned on signing the document with, 'Draco Malfoy'. By the way Tally was treating this case, he doubted she'd look closely at the signature.
Attached to the document was a picture of a young man with brown hair and hazel eyes. The image showed the boy glaring at the camera before abruptly turning his head away. Draco's eyes roamed over the words scratched on the page.
Thomas Franklin Nitwiker was fifteen years old and taller than Draco, if the record was to be trusted. As his eyes continued to skim the page, a splurge of text caught his attention:
Doretha and Peter Nitwiker were supporters of He-Who-Should-Not-Be-Named. Not long after the war began, the body of Doretha Nitwiker was found an undisclosed location. The cause of death is classified. Aurors captured Peter Nitwiker, who found guilty of being a Death Eater. No evidence suggests their children were involved in the war. The son claims to have been in hiding with his sister throughout. They are still people of interest; any suspicious behavior should be reported.
Draco signed the document before moving on to the second folder in the pile.
He was meet with the face of the little girl from the other day. Isabelle smiled cheerfully, her dark hair flowed down past her shoulders. No last name was given in the document. She was only five years old.
Draco was hesitant to read the additional information on the page. After reading about the Nitwikers, he felt like he was invading the children's privacy. But he'd need the information to better understand these children. Though with what he'd learned already, Draco may need to find them all a therapist.
Child found alone in a known Death Eater camp. Her parentage is unknown, as many were suspected to have been staying there. The child would only state her first name. It seems like the child was abandoned by her parents as they fled from the Aurors.
The next document held a photo of a young boy. He had thick, red hair and freckles painted across the bridge of a button nose and cheeks.
Draco's lip twitched; this boy would fit right in at the Weasley's home. The boy refused to look straight at the camera. Instead, his eyes flickered about the room never resting in one place for long. The name on the form read Maximus Jacob Hawkes, seven years old.
Draco startled at the name. He had met the Hawkes' once before. A meeting he wouldn't soon want to repeat.
Frank Hawkes was a big, muscular man who easily towered over people. In Draco's opinion, his most undesirable trait was his avid believe of the old ways. Men were the money makers and women were homemakers.
Draco remembered the disgust in Frank's blue eyes when they were introduced. The barely veiled insults spat about Draco's styled hair, thin frame, and fashionable clothing. As if Draco's less then rugged appearance threatened Frank's own masculinity. Lucila Hawkes wasn't much better; always a step behind her husband, a cutting remark on her tongue.
Yet, Draco couldn't recall them having a child, let alone a ginger haired one. Both Hawkes were blonde, and none of their ancestors were able to pass down that gene.
Draco would know, his father had forced him to memorize entire lineages of prominent pureblood families. With his curiosity piqued, Draco scanned the only paragraph on the page:
Frank Hawkes was killed during the final battle. Aurors apprehended his wife two weeks later. Lucila injured three Aurors before being detained and sentenced to life in Azkaban. The boy was found in a locked closet when their house was cleared for evidence and dark objects. The boy became hysterical when Aurors tried to remove him from the closet and had to be sedated (see attached sheet for the medical record). Overview of medical record: malnutrition, dehydration, bruises, cuts (fresh and old) located mostly along right forearm but are found in various places on his body. As well as, a few healed fractures.
Draco looked back at the picture of the skittish boy. Pity and grief bloomed in his chest. He slowly shut this file after signing it and replaced it with the forth folder.
Draco learned that his father's beliefs were wrong in the most uprooting way possible. And would be the first to say that Lucius had many, massive faults.
But he had no doubt that his father loved him. Draco never feared in his presence.
The next document was for Thomas Nitwiker's sister, Macy Lauren Nitwiker. A thirteen-year-old girl. Draco could see the family resemblance; both had brown hair and the same hazel eyes. Their facial structures so similar that a genetic link could be the only explanation.
Macy had an identical description as her brother. Once again, Draco signed the dotted line on the next page and continued to the final folder.
Looking out of the page was a girl with dirty blonde hair, tied up in a messy bun. Her icy blue eyes were shielded by silver glasses. She was the same age as Macy, thirteen years old, and her name was Jasmine Marie Bramble.
A beeping noise abruptly disrupted Draco's reading. Cursing, Draco waved his wand, cutting of the noise. It had already been an hour. If his estimations were correct, and they always were, he only had about half an hour left with this face.
Sarah and Jason Bramble were found as suppliers for He-Who-Should-Not-Be-Named. They never joined him as official Death Eaters. Jason Bramble was captured in a surprise attack enacted by the Order. His wife, Sarah, was arrested after the war and sentenced to fifty years without parole or visitation for aiding a war criminal. Their daughter was taken in at the same time as her mother and held for questioning. She was deemed innocent and released into the care of Director Suzie Tally of the Orphanage for Wayward Witches and Wizards. Any suspicious behaviors observed should be reported immediately.
Draco needed to find a good Mind Healer, one that could help these kids deal with their unique situations. A Healer that could look pass their parentage. The sound of the office door opening brought him out of his thoughts.
"Mr. Humphrey are you finished?"
Draco stood and gave her a nod.
"Perfect, go ahead and take those parchments with you. They're to prove that you now have guardianship. If you ever want to be rid of them, all that needs to be done is for the new guardian to sign the legal forms. Although, good luck trying to find someone; I've been trying for almost two years now," she finished with a laugh.
His clenched jaw preventing the bitter and angry words from escaping as he followed the woman down the hall.
Standing in the entryway were the five kids that Draco had claimed guardianship over. Thomas was leaning against the wall, one leg bent at a ninety-degree angle. His brown- leather boot-clad foot rested on the wall.
Jasmine stood off to the side, her hair up in a bun like the one she wore in the picture. In her hand was an open book titled The ins and outs of the Space Chamber. He remembered correctly, the Space Chamber was a department in the Ministry of Magic that dealt with the mysteries of space.
Macy stood next to Thomas looking bored as hell. Her wand twirling expertly between the fingers of her right-hand. Draco caught notice of her perfectly manicured nails, painted bright red. He's eyes were drawn to the tiger print on her thumb. A smirk formed on Draco's face as the sight procured a memory of Pansy practicing her skills in the art of nail polish. She spent first year with horrid nails due to this.
Maximus was fidgeting from foot to foot, worrying his bottom lip. His left hand picked at the scars on his right forearm.
Meanwhile, Isabelle looked despondently at the ground, where one foot was idly kicking. Her small hands gripped onto the straps of her pack.
His eyes swept over the five, Draco noticed that each kid had an identical pack to Isabelle. He assumed that the packs held all their belongings judging by the lack of other luggage.
They looked like they hadn't seen a shower for weeks. The boring, Ministry- issued, grey robes were disproportionate for their bodies. The hems of Thomas' trousers were tight on his calves, and Jasmine had to keep shoving her sleeves up her arms.
They could do with a few hearty meals and a comfortable bed. Which Mittsy would be overjoyed to supply to them. Draco felt anger flood his system; now this was an emotion he was familiar with.
"This is Mr. Humphrey. He's here from the Ministry to finally take you off my hands," Tally said, gesturing to Draco.
The statement elicited varying responses from the group of children. Isabelle seemed deaf to everything around her, while Maximus let out a squeak in fright. The older girls turned two identical, indifferent stares onto Draco. The look in those eyes unnerved him. The taller of the five formed an angry scowl and directed a cutting glare at the Director.
"I can't wait," Thomas spats at the woman.
"Enough, Mr. Nitwiker! Now you all be good for Mr. Humphrey. If not, he might send you to stay with your parents in Azkaban." With that she turned on her heel and left the group.
The red-headed boy began to once more scratch feverishly at his arm, breaking the skin. Unsure how to calm the boy, Draco told him, "I'm not going to send you there, so stop scratching. It's making the wound worse."
Unfortunately, addressing the child only increased his anxiety. Draco placed a hand above the abused forearm, causing the boy to freeze. Wide blue eyes gazed up at the older man.
"It's OK. You won't be going anywhere near your parents or Azkaban. I promise," the older man said giving Maximus' arm a gentle squeeze. Only taking a step back when the boy had relaxed enough that he wouldn't continue his previous actions.
"Are you all ready to go?"
Not for the first time, Draco wondered what he had been think when he'd left for the orphanage.
Upon exiting the building, the issue of travel cropped up. He couldn't side-along all these kids without leaving some behind. Nor could they apparate on their own.
Jasmine's sarcastically remarked that they could use the Floo. Which would have been a great solution if they were actually heading to the Ministry. But since they weren't, the group was forced to walk.
"We're walking the whole way to the Ministry!" Jasmine exclaimed in disbelief. "Surely, we can't be traveling to London on foot?"
"Yes, we are. So, if you would quit with your negativity, we could have great time," Draco said.
Draco slowed his steps noticing the two youngest struggled to keep up with the longer legs of their companions. Figuring it would be inappropriate to try to carry either of them.
"This is the best the Ministry can produce?" came the condescending voice of Thomas. "It really is pathetic." The final word dripping with disdain. Draco could feel a headache coming on.
Macy, Max, and Isabelle remained silent during the whole trip. During Draco's last walk with Isabelle he couldn't get the girl to stop talking. So, it seemed strange that she hadn't uttered a single word.
Jasmine had her book out, continuing to read when her questions were ignored. Thomas was the only one with anything to say, but it was always to throw insults Draco's way.
Much to Draco's grief, time seemed to slow as they walked to the Manor, but the gates did eventually appear in the distance. Signaling an end to Draco's misery.
Draco touched the handle of the gate which opened to reveal a pathway leading up to his house.
"Malfoy Manor?" Thomas read the inscription on the top of the gate.
"You're not from the Ministry, are you?" he asked, stepping in front of his sister protectively.
"What do you want from us?" Macy voiced, picking up on Thomas' uneasiness. As she tried, unsuccessfully, to shove her brother out of the way.
"No, I'm not from the Ministry, and I'm sure you don't have anything I need. I'm rich enough that I want for nothing." That came out more conceited then he'd attended. Draco paused to gather his thoughts better before starting over.
"Look, this is my Manor and you all are welcome to stay here," Draco explain. The uncomfortable twisting of his gut telling him the potion was about to wear out.
Draco stretched his as his appearance returned to normal. Turning to address five surprised faces.
"I won't stop you if you want to leave. But I implore you to stay the night, in the morning I can help find alternative living. Isabelle told me that life at the orphanage was terrible. If you need an explanation for my actions, it's simply because I can relate. I know what it's like to be afraid of turning the corner in the place you live."
At the end of his speech, a child was suddenly clinging to his leg.
"Mister!" Isabelle yelled, gazing up at Draco in awe, "You came back, Mister."
He rested a hand on top of her head. "Call me Draco, Kiki. If you're going to live here, it'd be best if we got rid of the mister title," he said, then looked up at the other four.
"Now come on. My house elf has dinner ready for us and I'm hungry. We can discuss your plans there." With that, Draco scooped Isabelle up and set her on a hip. He offered his free hand to Max; who hesitated at first, but soon grasped Draco's hand in his own.
Walking down the path, Draco smiled to himself when he heard the other three follow.
Isabelle was back talking a mile a minute. Max would squeeze Draco's fingers every now and then. Checking to make sure they were still there. Behind him, the beginnings of an argument between the three teens could be heard as the blonde climbed the steps to the entryway.
Mittsy was ready at the door; holding it open for the group. Draco supposed his life had always been a bit crazy and it from the looks of things it would remain that way.