I'd like to give a big thank you to all my reviewers. You guys are fantastic and I want to just thank you of your continued tolerance with my erratic up-dates. I really hope to have chapter six up within the next two weeks. Meanwhile, this chapter has been edited for an extreme error I noticed the other day.
Incidentally, since having read HBP, I was toying with the idea of rewriting the entire story, but in the end decided not to. Therefore, this story should be considered AU.
Upon opening his eyes, Draco saw green.
For a split second he wondered what he was doing back in the Slytherin Dormitory and whether perhaps the last few days had been nothing more than a terrible nightmare. Unfortunately, the illusion only lasted for a few heartbeats before the events of the previous day came rushing back and Draco couldn't help but groan with frustration and disgust.
He was at Stretham Rectory, his mother was dead, his father was in Azkaban and he was surrounded by Muggles.
Draco groaned once more for good measure and burrowed his head under a pillow. To top it all off, the stupid Muggles had given him cotton sheets. Cotton! Even at Hogwarts, the house elves had been careful to supply him only with silk sheets.
At least his new room was green, as small a blessing that might have been, Draco wasn't sure if he could have survived undressing whilst surrounded by Gryffindor colours.
The Muggle girl…what was her name again…Dawn had led him along a hallway and up several flights of stairs before they came to the Rectory guest quarters. Dawn explained that as well as the permanent residents, there were usually around ten or so trainees in occupation and as a result, it was necessary for the Rectory to boast several unoccupied guestrooms at all times.
She showed him a number of rooms he found to be deeply unsatisfactory - one of them was painted bright pink for Merlin's sake - before settling for this chamber which came with its own bathroom, a necessity, Dawn had assured him, when living with several teenaged girls.
The room was rather small, but painted a deep unassuming shade of green with mahogany furniture to match. A painting of a forest scene hung opposite the bed, and Draco had found himself staring at it several times the previous night, troubled by the unmoving deer depicted in it. Intellectually speaking, he knew that Muggle paintings and photographs were not sentient like those in the wizarding world, yet it still unsettled him to see it in reality. The picture seemed to reinforce the feeling of just how far away from home he really was and Draco could not rid himself of the homesickness that had settled in the pit of his stomach.
Draco sighed and rubbed a hand over his closed eyes. He really, really, really wanted to be able to stop thinking, to just…stop. He'd managed to get rid of Dawn the previous night by feigning a headache and had busied himself by neatly packing away his belongings, avoiding the Muggles and studying the rest of the day, but now there was nothing for him to do other than a particularly dull History of Magic essay he would rather like to avoid as long as possible, and there was nothing to take his mind of his own misery.
He had at first been reluctant to unpack his belongings, preferring rather to keep them in his trunk in order to postpone having to admit to himself that his new position might be permanent. However, in the end practicality and Draco's obsession for neatness won out, resulting in the neatly hung clothes in the closet and the picture of his mother under his pillow. He wished her were able to placed the framed photo on his nightstand, but didn't want to risk any stray Muggles noticing the moving picture.
Draco sighed once more and pulled the photo out from under his pillow. His mother was looking solemn and perfect as always, hardly moving whilst seemingly staring into the distance. Narcissa noticed her son staring longingly and graced him with a lopsided smile. Hastily, Draco stuffed the picture back under his pillow and screwed his eyelids shut, but it was no use, he could still feel the inevitable tears pooling.
Just as he was about to start feeling very sorry for himself indeed, a shout sounded outside his window. His bedroom was located on the third floor of the Rectory and it faced onto a large, rambling garden. Slipping from beneath his sheets, Draco walked towards his window, but to his chagrin, his room was too high up for him to see what was happing below.
Stretching slightly, he selected a pair of standard black trousers and shirt and made his way into his bathroom. Much to his disgust he had found the previous night that Muggle showers consisted of hot and cold taps one had to adjust manually. While the facilities at Malfoy Manor had not been quite as exotic as the Prefects Bathrooms at Hogwarts, they did still boast an impressive variety of different taps which would supply the user with an assortment of bubbles, lathes and soaps. Not so amongst the Muggles, though Draco supposed he ought to be grateful they washed at all.
After a brief shower, he dressed and combed his hair until he was as immaculately attired as possible. Since fate, or rather the despicable little worm of a minister had decided to throw him to the Muggles, he might as well go to his doom as stylishly as possible. It was his duty as the current representative of the Malfoy clan to present a front of dignity and grace. Gathered his courage and a deep breath, Draco stepped out into the hallway.
Once through his bedroom door, he almost collided with Faith who had apparently been about to knock.
"Morning kiddo," she rasped cheerfully, already striding off along the hallway, apparently on her way back downstairs, "I was just about to come wake you. There are some people here to see you."
For someone so short, Draco thought as he followed the older girl, she's sure got a fair turn of speed. Though he had a good four inches on her in height, and most of those in the way of legs, Faith was sweeping down the hallway with no apparent effort, and at a pace Draco found hard to match without straining.
Halfway down the first flight of stairs, he realised that she had mentioned visitors for him and almost cracked a smile with anticipation. They were probably from the Ministry, which meant they were Wizards.
Real Wizards! People who spoke both sense and the English language! Draco thought that at this point he would probably have been happy to see Fudge…though probably not Weasley. Even in these difficult times, one had to draw the line somewhere.
He restrained himself form skipping down the last couple of steps (a Malfoy never skips), followed Faith into the oval sitting room and nearly wept in relief when he came in sight of Severus Snape and Nymphadora Tonks. They were sitting primly side by side on one of the couches and both seemed to be listening to a chattering Andrew. Nymphadora was regarding the irritating Muggle with open curiosity and something like amusement, while Professor Snape just looked bewildered and a little horrified.
Faith, who had joined Dawn on another sofa, nodded at the man Xander and smiled at Draco in what seemed to be a mixture of encouragement and embarrassment at Andrew's ongoing monologue.
"…always used to say that you can't have enough vegetables in your diet, which I guess probably applies to most life forms, except for maybe Klingons and you know…generally carnivorous creatures, but anyway, I try to serve at least two different forms of vegetably goodness with all meals, and supply an outline of our nutritionally balanced diets for any parents that ask after them," Andrew continued, blissfully unaware of the looks he was receiving, "I find the girls really like it when I make themed foods, like last nights honey-roasted Ewok burgers for example, and we generally all have a good long laugh at the mystery meats."
This pronouncement was met with stony silence by all parties and while Draco could not account for anything the others might have been thinking, he found himself frantically wondering just what exactly it was these people were feeding him.
Andrew seemed to have registered that something was off by the looks he was receiving and gesturing wildly, hurried to make things worse.
"Not that I think there is anything overly mysterious about the meat…uhm, ever, really! I mean, the butcher knows what animals it comes from and he writes the names on these little bits of card and puts them on display next to his wares…it, uh, just wouldn't be good business sense to just have a mumbled pile of meat for you to pick and chose from, besides the whole hygienic aspect…it, it just wouldn't be kosher…so really, there's really no mystery at all."
Shuddering slightly, Xander glared at the hopeful looking Andrew and quite pointedly said, "Yes, thank you Andrew. Feel free to go far, far away now."
With a sneer that spoke volumes on his opinion of the blond Muggle's mental state, Professor Snape tore his gaze from Andrew and focused on his erstwhile ward instead.
"Draco," he said in a tone of voice, which to those that knew him well, almost sounded pleased, "how are you."
"Very well sir," Draco replied gratefully, stepping towards his godfather.
"Wotcher Drakey," Nymphadora grinned and Draco was too relieved to see his godfather to scowl at his mudblood of a cousin for using that deplorable nickname.
"Good," came Snape answered ignoring the bubblegum-pink coiffed Auror, and Draco could not help but notice how out of place his teacher looked in this room, even dressed in Muggle clothing as he was. Nymphadora on the other hand seemed right at home, which Draco supposed made sense, seeing as she was a half-blood.
"Your cousin and I came to see that everything was alright and to answer any…questions your guardians might have," Snape continued, with a sideways glance at Xander which made clear what he thought of the quality of said persons, "but we have been given to understand that Miss Summers is apparently out of the country at the moment."
Draco nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He was feeling an urge to thrown himself at his godfather and clutch at his clothing whilst begging not to be left alone in the company of these savages ever again.
"What I wanna know is," Dawn said before Draco could further acknowledge his godfather's comment, "If you're his cousin and you're his godfather, how come he got sent to us?"
"Not that we aren't happy to have him," Xander added hurriedly, "but you've gotta admit, it seems a little cold to send a kid who's just lost a parent off to live with people he's never met, when there are members of his family willing to have him."
"Believe me Mr. Harris," Snape replied with only a hint of a sneer, "both Ms. Tonks and I tried everything in our power to gain custody of Mr. Malfoy, but unfortunately his late mother's will was airtight and could not be contested. Despite our most vehement protests, the Ministry decided to overrule what personal connections either of us have to the boy and instead sent him to you. I believe I can state quite unequivocally that none of us are pleased with this arrangement."
"Wait, yo," Faith cut in disbelievingly, "are you saying the government set this up? What the hell man, I thought Child Services messed me about when I was a kid, but he shouldn't be put in foster care when there's like, family and shit to take him in! That's totally messed up!"
"I quite agree, Miss Lehane," came the Potions Master's sardonic reply, "the Minister however did not."
"That's another thing," Dawn added out, "that ginger dude who dropped Blondie off yesterday was totally rude! He like, tricked me into signing those papers and ran away! Who does that?"
Snape paused momentarily, no doubt inwardly translating the American's babble, before raising his eyebrow at Draco in an unspoken question.
"It's true sir," Draco responded to his godfather's prompt, wrinkling his nose in distaste at the memory, "The Weasel made himself scarce as soon as possible."
"Pft, that Percy is a little rotter alright. I don't know how any son of Arthur and Molly's turned out to be such a priggish coward," Nymphadora harrumphed before adding in what Draco assumed was an attempt to reassure him, "I'll…er…contact the twins and have them send him one of their new specialities…it'll serve him right, just abandoning you like that."
Spare me you stupid cow, thought Draco, as if you actually care. He was willing to bet several gallons that Tonks and her mudblood loving entourage had no doubt had a good long laugh about his current predicament.
"I have a question," Xander addressed Snape, and Draco noticed he seemed to have been reading a copy of his mother's Will, "According to this Will, Draco's mother met did you know William…Black at all?"
"No, I can't say I had the pleasure," the Potions Master replied pronouncing the last word with exquisite care, as if it were a word he had not spoken in years.
"What about you?" Faith asked Nymphadora, and Draco could not help but notice the odd look she was exchanging with Xander, "You're family, right? You ever meet him?"
"Nah," his cousin replied, "never even heard of him before Aunt Narcissa…er…yeah. I checked the Black tapestry and he's not on it as far as I can see, but that doesn't really mean anything, 'cos hey, I'm not either."
Draco could tell from the Muggles vacant expressions that this meant nothing to them and almost snorted in disgust. Bloody animals, had they never heard of family tapestries before? He directed his gaze back towards his cousin, in an attempt to hide his thinly veiled contempt, but her cheery countenance only served to anger him further.
"So, you don't know how they might have met or known each other," Xander persisted.
"No," Professor Snape answered with a raised brow, "does it matter?"
"Oh, not really," Dawn surprised Draco by answering offhandedly, "it's just that he was one of several friends who died two years ago and we've been hoping to write some online memoirs of all the Sunnydale victims…you know, a kind of biography on who they were, what they did in their lives, that sort of thing. It would help to get input from families and we were hoping you guys might have, like, amusing childhood stories or uhm…embarrassing baby pictures, just personal stuff like that."
"How is it you not possess such insight into Mr. Black?" Snape asked, and Draco thought he could detect a real hint of curiosity in his question, "Given that he left all his possessions to Ms. Summers, we assumed that you would be able to provide us with some information about him."
"We kinda explained to Draco yesterday that we only met Sp…William about seven years ago, and he was always pretty selective about the stuff he'd tell us about his past," Xander explained, "he was…closer to Buffy than most of us, and even the stuff he told her has to be…er, taken in context."
"You mean to say that he was a liar," Snape suggested.
"Well," Xander answered, squirming uncomfortably, "yeah. But you have to understand, we never liked each other and I'm really not the person you should ask for an impartial account of his character. Dawnie probably knew him better than anyone other than maybe Buffy…and even she will agree that the guy was totally full of himself."
Dawn nodded sadly, "That doesn't mean that he wasn't still a cool guy. He was kinda my babysitter for a while and we used to hang out and just talk, you know? He didn't treat me like a kid, like everyone else did. I mean, I know he was probably just doing it to get in Buff's pants but he was still my best friend and…do you guys want to see a picture?"
Before anyone could answer, she jumped out of her seat and made for the stairs.
"She was probably about to cry," Andrew informed everyone, and was rewarded with a glare by Xander and Faith for his helpfulness.