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Chapter One: Into the Breach
Two days later, Percy Weasley and Draco Malfoy looked upon the white-washed façade of Stretham Rectory, conveniently located in Stretham near Ely, each with their own unique opinion.
Percy, deemed as he was by some to be utterly incapable of anything resembling independent thought, was feeling uneasy. It was a bad business that brought him to such a sleepy village on so sunny a sunday morning in May, and though he would never voice his misgivings, he thought that perhaps on this occasion Minister Fudge might perhaps have acted a little…hastily.
Not that lesser mortals such as he ought to be second-guessing an inestimably superior intellect such as that belonging to Cornelius Fudge, Percy hastily edited himself within the confines of his own mind. No, the Minister surely knew what he was doing; otherwise he would not be Minister now, would he.
Percy laughed nervously to himself, which earned him an odd look from Malfoy. He was really much better off in dealing with such delicate and pressing matters as the consistency and deference of cauldron bottoms to European standards and protocols. These things were important, after all! Of course, he could not help but gloat at the compliment the Minister had paid him by entrusting him with his current errand and yet, he could not help but wish to be once more safely entrenched behind his desk and well away from the creepily silent Malfoy spawn. Anywhere but here, really.
Draco, incidentally, was thinking some rather less positive thoughts - namely how much he despised the sun for shining, the birds for singing and most importantly, Weasley for existing.
If he were to admit it to himself, he was also feeling mildly panicked.
As much as he normally loathed Professor Dumbledore and everything he stood for, Draco had to admit that the old fool had seemed to do everything in his power to keep him out of the clutches of these Muggles,though it had turned out to be pointless in the end.
Draco had no doubt in his mind that as soon as the old coot, his godfather and himself had left the Minister's office to return to Malfoy Manor and begin to pack what belongings he was allowed to take with him to his new prison, Fudge had no doubt revelled in his perceived victory over the last heir of the Malfoys, no doubt going so far as to swill expensive whiskey and dance an elaborate dance around his garish office. The Minister had always been jealous of his family and their power and no doubt saw the opportunity of his father's incarceration and his mother's…accident as a chance at getting his grasping paws at the Malfoy fortune.
His mother… oh Merlin no, he would not think of that now. He would not!
Laboriously pulling himself together, Draco frowned at the large house before him. It seemed more or less normal, even by wizarding standards, in that it appeared to be in possession of several walls, three stories, a roof and various doors and windows. Other than that, Draco wasn't sure what to make of it, so resolved to scowl just to be on the safe side.
By his father's command, he had gone out of his way to avoid associating with any of the muggleborn students at Hogwarts other than Hermione Granger, and in her case it was all in the name of winding up Potty and the Weasel. Therefore he had nothing in the way of standards to judge this place by. Of course it was nowhere near as impressive as Malfoy Manor, but Draco was forced to admit to himself that few places were.
According to his father, Muggles were more animal than man, incapable of the simplest tasks, and more often than not they lived in hovels. This place, Draco had to admit, was in no way hovel shaped. More than anything, it was large and airy looking, in what appeared to be a state of good repair and surrounded by lush trees.
Glancing at Weasley out of the corner of his eye, Draco was determined not to show fear. A Malfoy was never afraid and if he was he most certainly wouldn't admit it.
Percy, at this point was also pondering the inhabitants of Stretham Rectory, though his thoughts were running more in the direction of how to present them with 'the problem'.
He carried, in his briefcase, both a letter from the Minister explaining the situation in detail (though it omitted a selection of facts such as the existence of the Wizarding World and Mr. Malfoy's own abilities) and a standard contract of guardianship which had been edited slightly so as to not raise any suspicions in the unlikely event that the Muggles actually decided to read it before signing.
Having taken a mental inventory, Percy nodded to Draco and girding his metaphorical loins, started his way up the substantial garden path.
In preparation of this mission, he had consulted the Muggle Liaison division of the Ministry and was therefore able to both ring the doorbell and not jump too high in surprise at the noise emanating from the house in response.
Draco, not being similarly prepared, had no such luck.
The Ministry employee Percy had spoken with had assured him that pushing this button ought to result in something like the sound of a large bell ringing which would inform the inhabitants of his wish to speak with them. Instead his delicate eardrums were assailed with a cacophony of sounds, under which - with great difficulty and some imagination - he supposed a tune could be heard.
One look at Malfoy's face at least reassured him that he was not alone in his horror.
Moments later, the door opened onto a pleasant looking young Muggle girl who seemed inexplicably covered in dust and appeared to of all things be clutching a brassiere in her left hand. Looking from him to Malfoy, the girl smiled in a friendly fashion.
"Hi, can I help you?" she asked, and Percy was relieved to note that their research had been correct; these Muggles really were American in origin. Before he could open his mouth to reply she continued, "Hey, you're not Jehovah's Witnesses are you, 'cos if you are, your buddies came by last week and I'd have to tell you the same thing I told them. This is a strictly non-religious household and we've all resigned ourselves to burning in the eternal flames, thanks for asking though. Try the Cordners down the road, they seem especially gullible."
Percy blinked a few times and decided to not even try to make sense of what she had just said, "No, were not…that is …uhm…," he got no further than that before the girl's smile brightened.
"Oh, have you come to see Giles? He's not here; he's gone off to Azerbaijan or something and won't be back for ages."
Percy, still somewhat off balance through the continuation of the dreadful din, decided not to even wonder what a giles might be and could not help himself but ask, "Dear God, what is that racket?"
"Yeah, I'm sorry about the noise," came the reply, "unfortunately Andrew was in charge of shopping the day we got the doorbell and it's been playing the Star Wars theme tune ever since. As if that isn't bad enough, one of our more enthusiastic uhm…students broke it the other day and even Xander can't figure out how to fix it, so now it just sounds awful and won't turn itself off."
Nodding slightly and inwardly totally bewildered, Percy tightened the grasp on his briefcase, resolved himself to get this over with as soon as possible and in a steady voice asked, "In that case, might I speak with one Buffy Summers?"
"Sorry, no can do, she's off in Rome being a skank and won't be back 'til she get's dumped," the girl replied, smiling cheerfully and yet looking almost regretful, "I'm her sister Dawn, anything I can help with?"
Percy decided to bypass the first half of that sentence on the grounds that it was probably not in English and therefore couldn't possibly apply to him and instead focused on the latter part. A family member would just have to do.
Glancing once more at Malfoy, who by now appeared to be as nonplussed as he himself was feeling, Percy grasped to regain hold of his composure, in his most ministerial manner opened his briefcase and with a flourish presented several sheaves of stiff white parchment to the Muggle before him, "Indeed there is, Miss, are you of seventeen years or older?" he asked.
"Yup, turned seventeen a couple of weeks ago," the girl answered, and by now appeared curious.
"Excellent," he replied, and really felt it was, "delivery for Miss Buffy Summers, sign here, here and here please."
The girl shrugged and signed her name on the lines indicated. With the squiggle she added on the last s, Percy at last expelled the breath he had been holding. It was almost over.
The second the Muggle girl lowered her hand from the parchment Percy yanked the now signed contract from her grasp and hastily stuffed it back in his briefcase. He pressed the letter from Minister Fudge into her unresisting hands, breathed a sigh of relief and turned to the source of all his problems.
"There we are Mr Malfoy, that's everything taken care of. Off you go, be sure to behave yourself and we'll have someone over tomorrow to answer any questions your new family may have. Do take care," he added to both Muggle and teenaged wizard alike and quickly made his way down the garden path before anyone could stop him.
Draco, while loath to admit it, was rather impressed by the way Percy the Prig had managed to - true to his name - weasel his way out of this situation, leaving him to deal with the fallout.
The Muggle girl on the other hand, had by now stopped smiling and was rapidly frowning from the letter in her hand to Draco himself and at Weasley's rapidly retreating back. Blinking rapidly a few times, she lightly shook her head before her eyes finally came to rest on Draco and the bags at his feet and she asked in a slightly dazed voice, "What just happened?"
If he hadn't already decided to spend every single moment of this summer hating everyone and everything in it, he might have felt just a little bit sorry for the girl.