August 1
"Draco, darling, pacing is not acceptable for a Lord." Narcissa scolded from her place on the settee. Draco glared at her. His beautiful mother looked calm and collected as she thumbed through the current fashion magazine, as if this was a social call and not an all-important meeting on which all their plans hinged. He ignored her and continued his pacing. Narcissa sighed and laid aside her magazine.
"Draco, darling, come here." She held out a hand and waited for him to cross to her, take it and sit beside her. She brushed back a lose hair.
"It will be fine. I'm sure that Neville will agree to our plan. Haven't you told me this?" Draco sighed and rubbed a hand through his hair. He had. He did. He was just nervous.
"I was a right ass to him up until fourth year. I don't know if he will listen to anything I say."
"Oh, Draco. Surely, it is time to grow up and let by-gones be by-gones? Tell you what, why don't you disappear and let me greet them first. Give me fifteen minutes and then come to the west gardens. It is such a beautiful day and I think it will help relax us all. I'm sure Neville will feel at ease among the plants and flowers, don't you?" He smiled at his mother. Draco had long admired Neville's skills in Herbology, even though he was deplorable at Potions. He excused himself and made his way to his study. There was some paperwork that he could work on while he waited. He checked his watch. The Longbottoms would arrive in half an hour and he would give his mother 15 minutes. After having noted the time, he nodded to himself, entering his study.
He crossed over the antique Aubusson rug and settled behind the massive oak desk. He had always loved the study. Where the Manor itself radiated a classy feminine air, the study was pure masculinity. The dark oak paneled walls were lined with floor to ceiling built-ins lined with a collection of books as old as the Malfoy line. A massive stone fireplace took up the back wall with a deceptively comfortable leather couch flanked by equally comfy chairs. A bank of windows on the remaining wall opened onto a balcony overlooking the English coastline. The warm salt air drifted to him, calling him.
Looking at the paperwork before him, he sighed. Pushing out of his seat, he crossed to the French doors and threw them open. He stalked to the iron railing. Thoughts and feelings crashed over him making him grip the hard metal tight enough to cut himself. He stared at the cut then clenched it shut, hissing at the pain. The pain cut through the cacophony of his mind, grounding him. Breathing a sigh of relief, he checked the time. He straightened his robe, healed his hand and went to find his mother.
The last thing Neville expected to receive on a bright summer morning was a letter from Draco Malfoy. He had just sat down to breakfast with his grandmother when their house elf, Mipsy, came in with the morning post. As usual, Augusta had taken it and sorted through it. Having never received mail beyond a couple letters from his friends, Neville buried himself behind The Daily Prophet. He agreed with Harry and Hermione that the newspaper was hogwash but he figured it wouldn't hurt to keep abreast of what the other side believed. This morning was full of the on-going speculation about what had occurred at the Ministry and showed outrage that such a prominent philanthropist like Lucius Malfoy was to blame.
Laughing to himself over the picture of a rumpled Malfoy being dragged out of the Ministry, Neville eagerly turned to the article. Hearing Augusta's pained squeak, he looked up. A lone letter lay upon her empty plate with his name written in an elegant sweep. Frowning at both the mystery letter and his grandmother's attempt to read his private correspondence, he picked up the envelope. At his touch, a small tickle ran through his fingers. He resisted the urge to blast his grandmother's snooping but a small part howled that she had been caught.
The conniving old bat, serves her right, he thought. The letter, obviously addressed to him, had been spelled so no one else could read it. His frown deepened, annoyed at her controlling ways. Ignoring her spluttering, he slit the letter open and skimmed through it quickly. His eyebrows raised when he saw the signer was none other than Draco Malfoy. He reread the letter slowly, chewing thoughtfully on his lip.
Neville, Forgive my sudden contact but as you are aware, events have been set into motion that may well overtake us if we do not act. Given our pasts, I realize that you may be loath to trust me but I ask that you meet with me and allow me to try to persuade you to my side. If you question my sincerity, you are free to owl Blodrak at Gringotts. I am not my father, for all my physical appearance. I have done much soul searching and have come to a…parting of the ways, if you will. The Malfoy ways, that is. Honestly, and surprisingly I admit, I have you to thank for this parting. For all you are a bumbling idiot around my godfather, I am not sure you know how different you become away from him. Your honesty and loyalty to your friends calls to me for all its differences from my honesty and loyalty. As the new Head of Malfoy House, I plan to change my ways. To be the Draco that has always been but never shown. To start, I mean to create an alliance between the most powerful houses in Britain.
I start with House Longbottom because, a long time ago- a very long time ago, mind you- Longbottom and Malfoy used to be the greatest of allies until a fall out reduced us to what we have become. It is my wish to reinstate this alliance. And, if I may be so bold as to suggest it, I need a friend. A true friend that wishes only for my company and not for what I bring to the relationship. It galls to write this but I have a plan to end this war for everyone. To that end, I must be honest with both myself and those I encounter.
This war was started by our elders when they were young. They have failed in their endeavors to end it. The time has come for a new generation to step up and succeed where they failed. Change is coming, my friend. Do not be swept away by it.
I extend an invite to join my mother and me for tea today at our cottage on the coast. The Manor is obviously unavailable for the moment but that is a story for another time.
It was signed Lord Draco Malfoy. Neville raised an eyebrow at the Lord. So Draco had deposed Malfoy, Sr. Not in the literal sense, seeing as Senior was currently in Azkaban. The letter rang of truth. One could not sign themselves as lord of a house unless they truly were one. Still, the Malfoy name was surrounded by distrust and the added status of Lord did nothing to dispel that. It did, however, pique his interest enough that he made a snap decision.
"Grandmother, be ready for tea with the Malfoys at 2. I must go prepare." He stood to leave but was stopped by his grandmother's voice.
"Young man, you will not order me around! I am your Grandmother and as such I demand respect!" At her words, Neville turned to face her, drawing himself up to his full height. This had been a year of change for the young Longbottom heir. The events at the Ministry had shoved his inadequacies in his face, making him see fully the bumbling idiot Snape said he was. Neville had resolved to change. He had faced down Death Eaters. He would face down his grandmother.
"I am the heir to this family and it is time that I acted like it. I will no longer be the dundering sod that you have run roughshod over. I am leaving to see Rudon at the bank. I am 16 and I will take my place as Head of House." Augusta's face turned an interesting shade of red- almost purple- in rage. As she raged at his ungrateful nerve, his uselessness, his failure to live up to his parents, the dam broke. 16 years of repressed anger, fear, confusion, need, and hurt burst forth shattering all the windows in the house. Things flew off the shelves as he raged back. He let fly every thought, every feeling, every passing he had had in the past.
Why wasn't he good enough? Why did he have to live up to his parents? How could she treat him so cruelly? Suffocating, belittling, demeaning, cutting cruelly at the heart of a child! Allowing him to be placed in danger situations just because he hadn't show signs of magic.
The floors started to shake, throwing Augusta off balance. She screamed as plates flew off the table and crashed around her. Tears flowed unnoticed as she finally-finally!- realized how much damage she had caused. She could only stare in amazement at her grandson. She cowered in a corner, unable to look away as he finally gained control of his magic. He stood in the doorway, shoulders heaving. The look on his face told her more than any words ever would.
"Neville!" she cried, reaching for him but he turned away. Then she was alone, weeping in the middle of the wreckage, for what she had so callously thrown away.
