"Padfoot wasn't kidding when he said to expect a shock," Harry commented as he stared at the headline. Beneath the bold words was a picture of a haughty-looking wizard they assumed was Lucius Malfoy – even the grayscale couldn't hide the fact that he was very blond, and he sneered up at them with cold eyes and a disdainful expression.

"Morning."

Harry and Hermione jerked their heads up to see Ginny drop onto the bench across from them, looking upset.

"What's the matter, Gin?" Harry asked.

"Oh…Dean and I broke up last night," Ginny said, fiddling with the edge of the nearest breakfast platter.

"Oh, dear – I'm sorry," Hermione said sympathetically. "What happened? I thought you two were getting along rather well…" Ginny sighed.

"We were, it's just…I dunno how to explain it," she said. "I guess…the spark just kind of died, you know? We were spending some time together last night, and it just sort of hit us that the connection was gone. I…well, we both agreed that we still liked each other – as friends, I mean – so I guess that's good, but it was still kind of…I can't even describe it." She scooped several of the sausages from the platter onto her plate and began rolling one around with her fork.

"At least you're still friends," Hermione said, doing her best to console the redhead. While it sounded like it was an amiable breakup on both ends, Dean had still been Ginny's first boyfriend – it had to hurt at least a little. She also couldn't help but notice that Harry had been strangely quiet since Ginny had told them what was wrong.

"Interesting," she thought. "I think Draco might be right…"

"Bloody hell!"

Hermione snapped out of her musings at Ginny's exclamation, and it wasn't long before she figured out what had caused the younger girl's outburst – Ginny was gaping open-mouthed at the newspaper, the glaring headline unmistakable even from her upside-down vantage point.

"Well, I feel like a right arse now," she said as she snatched the paper and turned it around for a proper look. "Complaining about a breakup when my friend's dad just died…" She studied the photo closely and shuddered just a little – she'd never met Lucius Malfoy, of course, but she'd heard plenty of stories from her father about the Death Eaters during the height of their power, and she knew that the Malfoys had been in the thick of it all, what with their home being one of the Dark Lord's headquarters and all. No, she'd never met him, but Ginny thought it was safe to say that he was far from pleasant.

"What does the article say, Gin?" Harry asked. "The paper had only just arrived when you came down…"

"Oh…sorry," Ginny said hastily. She tore her eyes away from the photograph and quickly scanned the text below.

"Hmm…nothing, really," she said. "Says he was found really early this morning just outside the gates of Malfoy Manor, he was forty-one years old, cause of death has yet to be determined…"

"Is that really all it says?" Harry quickly took the paper back, sure there was something Ginny had missed, but she was right – the article held almost no information at all.

"I guess there were so eager to release the news of his death that they didn't bother with the details," Hermione commented. "I wonder how Draco is going to take this…"

While the three Gryffindors were deep in discussion on one side of the Great Hall, Draco sat on the other side, buttering toast and wondering what the hell was going on. As soon as the post owls had arrived, whispers had erupted throughout the room, the highest concentration of these at the Slytherin table, and dozens of people had abandoned their breakfast and were blatantly staring at him. It didn't take Draco long to notice that almost all of them clutched copies of the Daily Prophet. He'd also received a very cryptic note:

Mr. Black,

Please come to my office today at ten o'clock – I enjoy Fizzing Whizbees. You are excused from all lessons today.

Yours very sincerely,

Albus Dumbledore

Resolving to find out what had everyone so unsettled, Draco looked around until his eyes fell on the first person he saw who wasn't buried in the front page.

"Hey…hey Montague!" The Slytherin Quidditch captain looked up at the blond.

"What?"

"Toss me your newspaper, would you?" Montague hadn't even unrolled his copy – to be honest, Draco wasn't entirely sure why the older boy even had it delivered, as he didn't think he'd ever seen Montague reading it before – and so he merely shrugged before doing as Draco asked. Draco quickly pulled off the twine holding the newspaper shut and unrolled it, and he immediately knew what had everyone staring.

"Oh."

A glance to his left showed that the vast majority of his housemates were still staring, albeit discreetly in most cases, probably attempting to discern his reaction to the news. Draco turned his attention to the paper once more and focused on it. The article was woefully lacking in any sort of useful information, but the picture was unmistakable – Draco hadn't seen the man in over a decade, and Lucius hadn't been around much anyway, but the few encounters Draco recalled were memorable enough that he'd never forget that face. Engrained in particular was the afternoon Lucius had destroyed one of the rooms in the Manor in a fit of uncontrolled magic, nearly killing Draco in the process – it was the same memory that had surfaced the first time Draco had encountered a Dementor, and he remembered all too clearly both the pain of whatever had knocked him out and the sound of his mother's terrified screams. Quickly realizing that he wasn't going to learn anything important from the newspaper, Draco rolled it up again and tossed it back to his captain.

"Thanks."

He then returned to his breakfast, taking a large bite of toast and rolling his eyes at the blatant staring still going on.

"So Lucius Malfoy is dead – so what? Are they expecting me to burst into tears? Get angry, scream and throw things? He hasn't been my father for eleven years – although to be honest, I don't think he ever really was my father…"

Draco's musings were interrupted by his charmed parchment heating up, and he shifted a little in his seat to pull it from his pocket:

You alright?

Yes – why wouldn't I be?

There was a long pause with no response, and Draco sighed and continued:

I've seen the Prophet, Padfoot – I know what happened, and I really am fine. A little curious, maybe, but I'm not upset. Lucius never was a good father – although I suppose I do have him to thank for ending up with you and Mum.

Draco couldn't tell, of course, but Sirius choked up a little as he recalled how scared the blond boy had been when he'd first come to live with them. While Narcissa had been cold and distant, her actions at their meeting in Dumbledore's office all those years ago had made it abundantly clear just where Draco's fears had come from.

I know, I know – I just wanted to make sure. I'll be at Hogwarts sometime this week – you need to meet with the executor of Lucius' will, and since you're still underage, you need a parent or guardian with you. Dumbledore will let you know when.

He already did – it's today at ten.

Oh – guess I'll be seeing you soon then.

The bell rang then to signal the end of breakfast, and Draco stashed away his charmed parchment, wondering what he was going to do until the meeting. After tossing around several options, he finally decided on finishing his reading for Transfiguration, popped the last bit of his toast in his mouth, and headed off to the library without a backward glance.

Draco had occasionally thought that time slowed down on purpose just to annoy him, especially in some of his more tedious classes, but that feeling was nothing compared to how the minute hand crawled its way towards ten o'clock. He'd tried his best to finish his Transfiguration reading like he'd intended, but it was bloody difficult to concentrate when the library's other occupants, mostly older students with free periods, had abandoned their own work in favor of shooting him curious glances from across the room. By the time it was late enough for him to warrant leaving, Draco was within seconds of hexing everyone in the vicinity, silence in the library be damned. With one last look at both the clock on the wall and his own watch, Draco swept his things back into his bag and made for the headmaster's office.

"Fizzing Whizbees," he told the gargoyle. The statue nodded and sprang aside to grant him access to the spiral staircase, and Draco knocked on the door at the top, pushing it open when Dumbledore bade him enter. The headmaster sat at his desk, the tips of his fingers touched together in a pose of deep thought, and two visitors' chairs were occupied by Sirius and a man Draco presumed to be the executor.

"Ah, Mr. Black," Dumbledore said. "Do come in and make yourself comfortable." He gestured to a third chair Draco hadn't noticed before, and the Slytherin boy quickly crossed to it. Sirius reached over and squeezed Draco's shoulder in support, and Draco gave him a small but grateful smile in return.

"Your mum told me to tell you hi," he said quietly. "She would've come as well, but she was the first to admit she doesn't know a thing about Wizarding wills, and she suspected you wouldn't want to make a fuss over it."

"She knows me well, doesn't she," Draco said amusedly.

"Draco, allow me to introduce Albert Henderson," Dumbledore said. The executor nodded. He was an older man with dark hair and eyes, the latter of which were hidden behind stylish glasses, and his tan-colored robes were impeccably tailored. He stood and offered Draco his hand.

"A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Black."

"Likewise, Mr. Henderson," Draco replied, remembering his manners and firmly shaking the proffered hand. "And this is Sirius Black, my mother's cousin and my legal guardian."

"Yes, we were just talking about that when you arrived," Mr. Henderson said, taking his seat once more. "Now, I suggest we get down to business, as we have rather a lot to discuss." He picked up his briefcase from where it had been sitting next to his chair and removed several thick files, which he placed on Dumbledore's desk.

"This first file contains the will itself," he said, opening it to show them. Draco could clearly see the words Last Will and Testament marching smartly across the first page in fancy script.

"As you can see, this document was completed, signed, dated, and stamped by the appropriate authorities in late July 1984," Henderson began. "It has been on file with my office ever since, and no subsequent legal alterations have been made."

"July 1984," Sirius mused, looking thoughtful. "So this will was written before Lucius went mad."

"Yes," Henderson agreed.

"What do you mean, no subsequent legal alterations?" Draco asked curiously, purposely stressing the word.

"The Wizarding world takes the 'of sound mind' aspect of a will very seriously," Henderson explained. "Your aunt's cursing of your father made headlines for days afterwards, and once it was clear that he no longer met this particular requirement, all subsequent attempts at altering his will became null and void."

"How did you know that he 'no longer met the requirement', as you put it?" Sirius asked.

"St. Mungo's, of course. Narcissa, desperate to know just what had happened to her husband, took him there for examination within hours of her sister's actions. Documentation of the Healers' findings is all in here." Henderson tapped another file. "It's probably a good thing that she did so, otherwise we'd be having a far more difficult time of things – Lucius drafted no less than twenty-seven other wills in the time between his cursing and his death, in which he left his estate to everything from his hunting hounds to his wife's prize rosebushes."

"I see your point," said Draco, who was trying not to laugh at the mental image of flowers inheriting anything. Henderson pushed his glasses up his nose and nodded.

"All peculiarities aside, this is the only legally appropriate document, and as executor, it is my duty to ensure that the requests of the deceased are carried out. Draco, as the lone remaining Malfoy, is the sole beneficiary of everything under that name, including all properties, monetary assets, et cetera."

"Ah…about the monetary assets," Sirius said suddenly, looking as if he'd just remembered something. "The day Narcissa gave Draco to us, she told us that she'd had Lucius sign everything related to the vaults just the day before – and that was in August, at least a week after her sister had cursed him. Are we not going to hit some sort of a snag there?"

"No," Henderson said. "The Gringotts goblins operate a little differently in that regard – as long as they can verify the signature as authentic, they don't really care much how it got there. Their reasoning seems to be that a person has to be at least somewhat lucid to create a verifiable signature, but I suppose that explanation doesn't really do it justice. Suffice it to say that the Gringotts goblins have ways of detecting authenticity that we wizards don't. You have the vault key?"

"Yes. We've yet to enter the main vault, obviously, but I suppose that can be done now."

"What do you mean?" Draco cut in, looking confused. "Of course we've been in my vault…haven't we?"

"No – well, sort of," Sirius explained. "Your vault is one of the oldest and largest in Gringotts and has a separate room, which contains just a small portion of the Malfoy fortune. That money is what Narcissa set aside for you, specifically for Lily and I to raise you and get you through school – I suspect that even though she was entrusting us with your care, she still wanted to make sure that the majority of the money went to you and you alone."

"Wait…you're saying that's only some of it?" Draco asked in shock. The portion of the vault he'd seen before contained a veritable mountain of gold – just exactly how rich was he?

"That is indeed correct," Henderson said. "The provisions of the will dictate that you, Draco, take over everything upon the death of your parents or the date of your seventeenth birthday, whichever comes first, and the Gringotts documents agree with this statement. As you are underage, you will need to appoint someone to oversee the finances until you turn seventeen, but other than that, you should now have completely unrestricted access to the entirety of your family vault." He opened yet another folder and passed a piece of parchment to Draco, who saw that it was a bank statement of some sort. The young wizard had to fight to keep his jaw off the floor as he gaped at the numbers.

"Are…are you sure that's an accurate total?" he asked, struggling to keep his tone even.

"Quite. You can see the verification seal of Gringotts in the top left corner." Draco whistled lowly. 'Filthy rich' didn't even begin to cover it.

"Unless you have any other questions related to the will or its contents, I just have a few things for you to sign, and then you'll be free to go," Henderson said.

"Nothing I can think of at the moment," Sirius said thoughtfully. "Draco?" Draco shook his head.

"No…I don't think so." He was still staring at the Gringotts statement as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing.

"Excellent. If you do find that you have questions in the future, you can always contact me at this address." Henderson pulled out a business card and slid it across the desk. "Now, if you'll just sign here, here, and here…"

Draco was still deep in thought as he made his way back to the Slytherin common room twenty minutes later. After Mr. Henderson had left, the two Blacks had had a quick chat about the Manor – Draco didn't really have much of a desire to go there, but Sirius had pointed out that the wards would need to be reset to recognize the new master of the house. The wards surrounding the property were ancient and very powerful, but they would be much easier to unravel without that crucial link. Wanting just to get the trip over with, Draco had suggested that they stop by over the Christmas holidays, which were just a few weeks away, and Sirius had agreed that that was the most convenient option. Sirius had reluctantly departed then, stating important Order business, and Draco was now alone and facing an entire day of nothing. Having no desire to repeat his earlier experiences in the library, he'd decided to kill the remaining time until lunch in his room, and he was satisfied that he at least managed to finish his reading in peace this time around.

"Where have you been?" a familiar female voice demanded as he headed up to lunch. Harry and Hermione were standing at the base of the stairs leading up to the entrance hall, both of them looking extremely worried.

"Dumbledore's office," Draco replied, falling into step between them. "I've been excused from classes for the day, and I had a meeting with the executor of Lucius' will."

"They already have the will?" Harry asked, sounding shocked. "He hasn't even been…you know…for twenty-four hours yet!"

"Harry, you don't have to beat around the bush," Draco said flatly. "You can say that he's dead. Trust me, there's no love lost there." Harry looked doubtful, but he backed down when Draco gave him his best 'I'm-totally-serious-so-don't-be-an-idiot' look.

"The will's been on file since 1984," he clarified. "Signed, sealed, delivered, what have you, it was there."

"Forget about the will," Hermione said quickly. "Are you sure you're alright? You might not have the best memories of him, but he was still your father, after all."

"Lotte, I'm fine," Draco promised, his tone softening a bit. "It was definitely a shock, but not much more than that. I've got all I could ever need in a family right here." He nudged both Gryffindors in the sides and smiled knowingly.

"Huh, maybe Drake needs to inherit a fortune more often," Harry joked. "He gets a lot nicer when he does."

"Oh, shut up," Draco retorted, elbowing his brother much harder this time.

"And there's the Draco we all know and love…"

A/N: 4 snow days in a week - & more snow possibly on the way? I can't handle this. Not the most exciting chapter in the world, but those happen sometimes. The next chapter will more than make up for it, I think...

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JKR owns all things Potter, I just play. Please R&R, & enjoy! :)