Chapter Fifteen

A/N: Thank you to ClaireBear1982 for reviewing the last chapter.

Lily sighed a little in annoyance, before she approached the fireplace, throwing a handful of Floo powder into the fire, before throwing her head over her shoulder, yelling up the staircase to her parents, though she did not intend to give them enough time to give her a negative answer, should they intend to do so.

"Mum, Dad, I'm going out!" the young girl exclaimed, before she stepped into the flames. Vaguely, she heard her father yell something in response, but paid it little heed, as she reappeared in a darkened hallway, one that she recognised only from the few stories her aunt and uncle had told her, along with the rare one from her father and from Teddy's grandmother, Andromeda, whose younger sister was the mistress of the house. She knew precisely where she had arrived. She was at Malfoy Manor.

From what she had been told, the large imposing entrance hall had not changed a bit, from the time when Lucius Malfoy was still the master of the great house. It was relatively dark, and so cold that the girl violently shivered, despite the roaring emerald flames that were only beginning to die in the grate. But the most eerie thing about the place was the silence. The utter opposite to the constant screams and shouts of the Weasley household, the place did not seem to be lived in at all, let alone be the home of a fourteen year old boy, along with four others. A family of five claimed residence in this hall, and it was as silent as a crypt. This was not right.

More timidly than she would have liked, Lily began to move forward, deciding to ascend the more intimidating of the two staircases, as the other was small, winding and dark, and could conceivably lead to anywhere. But with a marble piece of spiral artwork like this, it had to lead to somewhere that would be on show to any guests that would visit. 'Or any wanted guests, at least.' the redhead thought to herself, as she began to walk a little more on the tips of her toes. 'I have a feeling that this would not have been built all those years ago to put on a show just for the lowly likes of me.'

Having turned the corner and seen that no one was present in the large hall that rested at the top of the steps, the youngest Potter ascended the final flight to reach the room. But it was only when her eyes swept over the décor that the child truly realised where she was standing, and what had happened there.

In this very room, over two decades previously, Bellatrix Lestrange, the most crazed of the Dark Lord's followers, had tortured her aunt, Hermione, to try and receive information on the Horcruxes that her master had created. Inspirationally, even through all that pain, she had not managed to break the young woman, even when she had carved 'Mudblood', the derogatory term she had lived with since the age of eleven, into the flesh of her arm. This room held many terrible memories for her family, and yet she had walked right into it without a second thought.

And still Lily did not stop. She moved right forward, taking quick nimble steps until she had reached the centre of the room and realised what she was doing. Here she was, in the middle of Malfoy Manor, with no idea in which part of the huge mansion her brother could possibly be, and yet she had seen fit to walk right into the middle of a room that any member of the family could walk into at any time. But the strangest thing was… she was not scared.

"Can I help you?" At the sound of the voice, Lily squealed and turned around, to face the man that had walked into the room. Like all of the Malfoys she had seen in the portraits that lined the walls, he had hair that was a shade of blonde almost light enough to be silver, and a pale pointed face, though his defined chin was slightly hidden by the small growth of a beard on it. Still, no matter how much his features had changed, there was still no chance that the girl would not recognise a man about whom she had heard so much.

"You're Draco Malfoy." she breathed, her eyes widening a little, mirroring his actions as he did the same. It was quite clear to the child that the man had no idea of who she was, though why she expected him to she did not know. 'After all, I doubt that Albus shows our family portrait to the parents of each of his friends. Though granted, there is only Scorpius that could be counted as a friend for him.'

"And you are…?" the man questioned, though he had an expression on his face that suggested he was in the midst of trying to work this out. Before he had a chance to do so, the young girl gave her response, as she suddenly felt a twinge of fear, along with an urge to get her brother and leave as quickly as possible. After all, night was beginning to come, and the shadows in the drawing room seemed even more pronounced in the darkness.

"I'm Lily. I was looking for my brother, Albus. Our dad wants for him to come home now, so I came to get him." This was not entirely true, as Harry had not sent his daughter to Malfoy Manor, and had barely known that she was going before she did, and he had never said that he wanted for Albus to come home. The purpose behind that was only that Lily did not quite understand part of her Transfiguration essay, and hoped that her brother could help her with it.

The man's reaction was one of utter shock, despite the previous look on his face having suggested that he had begun to figure out who she was. However, just as he opened his mouth to speak, two boys entered into the room, and the dark hair of one of them told the redhead that she had achieved her goal.

"Lily, what are you doing here?" Albus questioned, but the look on his sister's face told him that she wanted to leave, and so he quickly made a show of looking at his watch before he sighed. "Oh, it's time for me to go home. I'll see you another time, Scorpius."

And with that, the two returned home, where the elder proceeded to help the younger with her essay. Yet even as she wrote, strangely enough, Lily could not help but think of the nice nature the man seemed to have, and how it did compare at all with the stories she had heard of him during his school days.

'Perhaps you shouldn't judge a book by its reviews, after all.'

A/N: Please review!