Draco took several long minutes to process what had just happened, almost unable to believe it. Against all odds, Hermione's father was alive! Imagining Hermione's reaction, the cry of amazement and the tears of happiness she'd undoubtedly shed as she threw her arms around her father, made Draco smile – Hermione was very close to both of her parents, but she'd always been Daddy's little girl. Thinking of Hermione made him sad and a little anxious – Draco wanted nothing more than to hold her in his arms and know that she was safe – but he also knew that Hermione was more than capable of taking care of herself, and he'd see her tonight back at Hogwarts. The thought spurred him to action, and he left the cellar, the door closing behind him as he made his way back up to the ground floor. Deciding it was time to move upstairs, Draco made for the grand staircase, the banister cool to the touch, and began to climb.
The first thing he noticed was the enormous tapestry that took up almost the entire wall on the first floor landing. It was the Malfoy family tree, and it couldn't have been more different from the Blacks' – the fabric was a delicate off-white color, the names and dates stitched in fine gold, and it was immaculate. Not a single name had been blasted off the Malfoy tapestry, and the family motto – Sanctimonia Vincet Semper – marched smartly across the top. Draco thought that the tapestry was almost too perfect, to be honest – despite clearly being centuries old, the fabric didn't even bear so much as a smudge, and each individual's name was centered exactly beneath those of his or her parents. If Draco had to guess, he'd say that the reason the tapestry was so perfect was because it simply edited out anyone who 'shouldn't be there'. It was a bit hard to test that theory, though – he knew of many names removed from the Black family tree, of course, but the only Black here was Narcissa, included via her marriage to Lucius. In any case, it seemed a reasonable conclusion. As he examined the more recent names, Draco recalled what he'd said to Hermione upon the creation of the 'Blasted off the Tapestry' Club:
"Someday down the road, I'll get myself blasted off for real for marrying a Muggle-born and make it official, but for now, consider yourself in."
Since the 'blasting' of the Black tapestry was done manually, Draco doubted his name would leave that one no matter what he did – the only remaining Blacks had nothing against Muggle-borns, after all – but he still had a good chance to shake up its Malfoy counterpart. Snorting in amusement at the thought, Draco continued his explorations.
The upper floors consisted mostly of bedrooms and private studies, though there was a tower leading to an owlery at one end of the house. One of the studies was an absolute wreck, and Draco suspected this was the room that haunted him every time a Dementor drew near, the room in which his father's uncontrolled magic had nearly killed him over a decade ago. Draco left this particular room as quickly as he could and found himself in another destroyed room, this one a bedroom.
Unlike the rest of the house, this room screamed of the Malfoys' heritage – the color scheme consisted of Slytherin greens, silvers, and blacks, and the Malfoy crest had been painstakingly painted on the wall over the headboard. It must have been a handsome room at one point, but something had obviously happened to change that – the bed frame was cracked in half, the hangings and sheets charred, and there were burn marks aplenty littering the walls. The room had suffered plenty of other serious damages as well, and Draco couldn't fathom why. He knew about the destroyed study, of course, but he couldn't remember this room at all. After a search of the room, the only thing he'd found was a small stuffed animal, a dog. He stared at the pup for a long time, wondering where it had come from – he himself still had a stuffed dragon at home from when he was small, one Lily said had been gifted to him at birth by Narcissa, but was it possible this little dog had been his as well? He'd certainly had plenty of toys when he'd moved into the Potter-Black household. Deciding it couldn't hurt to keep it, Draco shrunk the stuffed animal and put it in his pocket.
Draco couldn't say how, but he somehow knew without a doubt that the next room he stopped in was his own. The room was not, as he'd expected, furnished in Slytherin colors, but rather in a pleasing navy and cream combination that reminded him of the sea, the furniture a warm chocolate brown. The wardrobe and nightstands were empty, as was the adjoining bathroom, which only further supported Draco's thoughts, as his things had all gone with him when he'd left the manor. A small settee and two armchairs sat before the fireplace, and there was a handsome writing desk in one corner. A set of French doors led to a small balcony that overlooked the gardens, and for the first time since entering the house, Draco felt at home – for however short a time, this space had been his, and the familiar reassurance still lingered.
The next thing to catch Draco's eye was a life-sized portrait hung outside what he guessed was the master suite. For the first time since finding the portrait of Lucius on his horse, Draco recognized the painting's occupants – it was a portrait of his immediate family, frozen just like all the rest. At the center of the portrait was Narcissa, seated in a winged armchair with her blonde hair in an elegant twist and her amethyst-colored robes arranged just so. The child in her lap was unmistakably Draco himself, probably no more than two years of age, sitting up very straight with his hands folded. Beside the chair stood Lucius, draped in fine robes trimmed in the same shade as his wife's, with a haughty smirk on his face. His positioning, however, struck Draco as odd – one hand grasped the head of an ornate cane while the other rested on the back of the chair containing his wife and son, but he stood more than a foot away from the chair, almost as if there was supposed to be something else in between. One of the dogs, perhaps? Maybe one was supposed to sit there while the other lay on the floor at Narcissa's feet? But then, why would the portrait have been hung if it wasn't finished? Draco was no expert when it came to art, but it was fairly obvious that every portrait he'd come across, including this one, was a painting, not a photograph, and he'd never heard of anyone displaying incomplete artwork before. Left with more questions than answers, Draco turned away from the portrait and entered the only room he hadn't yet explored on this floor – his father's study.
Lucius' study was dark – dark walls, dark furnishings, dark accents. The window was open, and a sinister-looking bird sat on a perch nearby – it was the first sign of life Draco had seen since Dobby had left with Bob Granger, but though the bird was intimidating, Draco wasn't as surprised by its presence as he might've been. Lucius had, after all, kept hunting hounds, so it wasn't far-fetched to think he'd kept birds for a similar purpose, and of course birds of prey could easily take care of themselves. The fireplace sprang to life upon Draco's entry, possibly enchanted to recognize the master of the house, and, taking care to avoid the bird, Draco wasted no time in beginning to explore the contents of the desk. To his disappointment, he didn't find anything of note, and he suspected that anything important was probably locked up in a safe – but where was the safe?
"Look behind the tapestry."
Draco, his wand instantly drawn, whirled around so fast that he nearly fell over.
"Who's there?" he demanded.
"On the wall, by the window." The voice was a woman's, soft and musical, and Draco gasped when he saw where it had come from. There was a portrait – and it was moving.
"Are you…" Draco began as he stepped towards the portrait. The subject gave a small smile and nodded.
"I am Narcissa Malfoy," she said.
Draco gazed hungrily at the painting. His mother appeared far younger in this portrait than in the one he'd seen earlier – not much older than himself, really. She wore a flowing, sky blue robe that matched her eyes, and her blonde hair hung loose down her back, with just a small section at the front pinned back in a crystal clip. Tall and slim, she sat perched on a garden bench surrounded by rosebushes in full bloom, one hand lovingly caressing the blossoms. The stories didn't exaggerate – Narcissa truly had been a beautiful woman.
"You've grown so much," the portrait said, bringing Draco back to his surroundings. "Such a handsome boy – oh, if only she could see you…" She paused and frowned. "What are you wearing, Draco?"
Draco glanced down at himself and nearly laughed aloud. When he'd gotten dressed that morning, he'd hardly given his jeans and trainers a second thought – he was probably the first person to ever set foot inside Malfoy Manor wearing such blatantly Muggle clothing.
"In case you've forgotten, I was raised in a Muggle neighborhood, Mother," he said teasingly. "I can't exactly walk down the road in robes in that case."
"I suppose not," the portrait agreed, though she still looked a bit perplexed by his clothing choice. "And call me Narcissa, please." It was Draco's turn to look confused.
"But…you're my mother, are you not?"
"No, not really," Narcissa said. "I am a portrait of your mother, yes, but what I know of her is limited to my experiences after being painted and hung here – I do not retain all of your mother's thoughts or memories and could not, for instance, talk of her childhood or her Hogwarts days."
"So you know nothing of the Tonks family?" Draco questioned. Narcissa smiled sadly.
"Only that she regretted disowning her sister until her dying day," she replied quietly. "Especially once she saw you were in danger, she realized that life was too short to shun family that way – of course, by that point, the rest of the portraits had been frozen for quite some time, and I could no longer visit her in her suite like I used to. I only knew what I heard when she came to this room, which wasn't often."
"Why were the other portraits frozen?" Draco asked.
"Lucius always said it was because of the many Death Eaters in his home. He felt that it was safe to keep only those of us in the most private places as we were." Her answer made sense, but at the same time, it didn't – for instance, there were portraits in some of the bedrooms, and they were just as still as the rest. Draco sensed that there was more to the story, but a glance at his watch told him that there wasn't time to ask. The Portkey was due to activate very soon. He told Narcissa this, and when he asked if she knew of a safe, she once again directed him to the tapestry on the opposite wall. The tapestry, which featured a woodland scene that could very well have been the Forbidden Forest, slid aside as if on an invisible curtain rod to reveal a small metal door about chest height.
"Your hand on the door should open it," Narcissa instructed. "It recognizes the master of the house." Draco touched his hand to the safe as she suggested and was rewarded with a small click as soon as his palm made contact with the cool metal. The safe contained mostly papers, but tucked in the back corner was what he'd been hoping to find – a dark velvet jewelry box. The box's lid was emblazoned with the Malfoy crest, and though it looked very old indeed, it was obviously well cared for. Draco popped it open and couldn't believe his luck when he saw what was inside. It was clear that this was the piece his grandparents had passed down to his parents, as he couldn't think of anything else that would warrant such secrecy and care, for nestled inside the box's plush cushioning was a green and silver ring…a ring that appeared to be made of plastic…Salazar Slytherin's ring. Without hesitation, he plucked it from the case and unclasped his necklace, slipping the band on the chain to join his mother's engagement ring.
Draco had only just hooked the necklace back together when the portrait behind him shrieked.
A/N: I told you things would get interesting in part 6...what do you think?
JKR owns all things Potter, I just play. Please R&R, & enjoy! :)