AU:Here's another chapter. I've been quite busy, but I was able to get this written. One or two of you mentioned Draco's nicer personality here whereas in the books he's a 'git'. Very true, but he is younger here, and this is his 'home self', which might be different from his public self. Additionally, you might see a change start to occur pretty soon (hint hint)
Thanks to orsumfenix, risi, SayianWizard, and standasawitness for reviewing.
Now, on with the chapter…
According to plan, the Malfoys arrived in France just in time for Draco's and Herculen's birthday. It was sometime in the early afternoon when their train pulled into a station near Province and their bags were unloaded by a waiting house elf. A buggy then brought them to the correct building, where they were quickly ushered inside and lead to an elegant suite that filled the whole top floor of the primly dressed inn. A maid set about unloading their things, and so there was nothing for the Malfoys to do but go explore the nearby town. Indeed, the buildings were ancient, but they also sold quite a few things of interest, so it wasn't long before Narcissa had disappeared leaving Lucius to find something for the boys to do. It wasn't hard to find an activity, however, because Herculen ever so wanted to go view the art gallery. This was fine by his father, and soon the trio was marching about the silent halls observing artworks that dated back centuries. Admittedly, it wasn't particularly interesting to Draco, however the little boy entertained himself with a crossword that the museum offered guests. That night the family arrived fashionably late to their dinner reservation, and a gigantic chocolate cake was presented to the boys. The local musicians played happy birthday with their violins, and then the buggy transported the family back to the inn. All in all, it was quite a successful day in Herculen's opinion. The boys were promised their presents the next day in order to drag out the celebration.
The next day, indeed Hercuelen found a mountain of presents from his parents littering his bedroom. They varied from Swiss chocolates, to Scottish shortcakes, to some well made London attire. Draco too received a couple of presents, although he was more than aware that they were all from his mother, and they were all marked 'made in Province, France'. His father surprised him by giving him a pat on the back and a verbal 'happy birthday, Draco'. It was certainly more than last year which had been spent at home. In fact it made Draco rather proud, and he boasted about it to his brother later on.
This day, the whole family traveled by horse out to the countryside away from town in order to see some of the grand ancient buildings created by wizards of the 1500s. That night, they moved on to see Alsace where they spent several days being served the best local dishes, and viewing various art galleries and grandiose buildings. After that, they moved on into the real countryside, and that's when things began to stop going according to plan.
"Lovely little hotel," Narcissa remarked after their buggy rolled up alongside a small gardened inn. It was already beginning to grow dark, as the last lodge had been simply too interesting to leave any earlier. The stars twinkled over head of the glowing, cream colored building, and ivy wound its way up to the second story windows which were flooded with a warm, yellow light.
"Yes, it is rather nice. Driver, you may put the buggy in back once we're inside. I'm sure someone will get our bags," Lucius told the buggy driver from the backseat, and then he watched as the Frenchman helped each of his family set down from the rather high step. He was surprised, however, when there was no one standing near the door to greet them.
"Come, I'm sure they are awaiting our arrival inside," Lucius told his family, and then he marched up to the door of the inn and hammered upon it with the silver head of his cane. It took several moments, but finally a hunched, elderly man answered the door, glancing at Lucius questioningly.
"Oui?" the man asked.
"Yes, hello. I believe you were expecting us?" Lucius glared down at the little man.
"Quoi? Je crains ne pas comprendre," the man replied.
Lucius frowned, however he called upon his French lessons from years and years ago and angrily told the man that they had a reservation and had better get into the hotel quickly or the entire staff would be rather sorry.
"Noms, s'il vous plait?" the man calmly asked.
"Malfoy. I am Lucius Malfoy, and this is my family. Nous sommes les Malfoy!" Lucius snarled.
"Malfoy," the little old man nodded several times as if suddenly understanding one's inside joke, and Lucius practically growled.
"Grand-père, qui est-ce?" a young girl suddenly appeared at the door, staring at the Malfoys untrustingly.
"Malfoy," the old man smiled, however the girl's eyes widened.
"Oh!" she cried. "Pardon Mr. Malfoy. My grand-père is just confused. Please, please come inside. Forgive us for any inconvenience. Do you have bags?"
"Of course we have bags," Lucius spat. "What kind of an establishment is this?"
"Oh, pardon, where're they, the bags?" she asked nervously in a heavily tainted accent.
"In back with the buggy of course," Lucius's eyes flashed. "Were you not expecting us?"
"No no, we were, it's just that my père had to make a, a rush visit into town. Most of the other guests arrived earlier. We did not know if you would still be coming, you see?"
"I do see. Perhaps we should leave then, yes?"
"No no, please, I can get your bags. I have the key to your rooms right over here!" the girl ran behind a counter, her grandfather watching the exchange with concern lining his wrinkled face. The girl returned with two keys, which Lucius ripped from her hands harshly, glaring at her and telling her to hurry up with the bags before motioning for his family to go upstairs. Once they had disappeared, he turned to the girl, his face red.
"Before you open up an establishment, figure out how to run it. This place is a disgrace. If you can't figure out how to better treat your guests, you might find that you will no longer have any, I can make sure of that."
He then turned and stormed upstairs, his cloak billowing behind him.
The next morning, Herculen woke to find his brother still sleeping soundly. After the confrontation downstairs, the brothers had had a discussion about proper hotel treatment, and Draco received an earful about how this was not proper hotel treatment. Herculen had eventually worn himself out, however he felt quite refreshed now. Despite the bad service, Hercule decided that the hotel had wonderful down comforters that made him feel as if he was floating.
Suddenly, Herculen realized that he was starving, and so he pulled a bathrobe around himself before magically summoning room service.
"Yes," he spoke into the flower designated for room service calls, "I would like eggs benedict, over easy. Get some warm cereal for my brother as well. Hmm, how about with blueberries."
Herculen's voice woke his brother, who yawned softly and asked what time it was.
"I'd say about eight o'clock, that's what time I usually wake up these days," Herculen told his brother. "It's what all good wizards should do. This one mud-blood at Hogwarts always says this stupid thing about 'early to bed, early to rise makes a wizard healthy and wise' or some such nonsense, but the early to rise part certainly is true. I called for breakfast, hopefully they don't botch that too. However, if they do you can see what I've been learning from father."
"What's that?" Draco asked, always curious to see what one might learn from his father. Anything he could do to be more like Herculen certainly would be a good idea for Draco to copy. After all, his father seemed to love everything Herculen did. Perhaps Draco could earn his favor by copying his brother?
"Well," Herculen cleared his throat. "If things don't go father's way naturally, he makes them go his way. I mean, what he did last night was absolutely too too brilliant."
"Was it?" Draco asked, confused which part was brilliant.
"Yes, I mean, father has a way with showing off his power, you understand little brother? All good purebloods do, though. I mean, we have to keep the lower wizards and mud-bloods in their place somehow, don't we? Father is excellent at it. I think I'll give it a try, you know, just to see if I can. Obviously I won't be as good at it as father because sometimes even he takes it a little too far, I think. But, if I'm ever going to give it a try, I might as well do it here. I don't want to do it at Hogwarts and sully my good reputation. At least, not yet anyway. Keep in mind though, little brother, that you don't always want to take it as far as father, because you don't want people to hate you, just to do what you tell them to. I afraid some people really do hate poor father. Sometimes I worry that you even hate poor father!"
Draco was so taken off guard by Herculen's comment that he only blinked for a moment. Then he shook his head adamantly.
"I don't hate father!" Draco sounded shocked by the very idea, and Herculen nodded.
"Very good, Draco. You must never hate father, he is the procurer to you in our line."
"Our what?" Draco asked, confused.
"You know, our family? In any case, he is your father besides. Don't act so nervous around him. He doesn't appreciate that, it only makes you look weak."
"It does?" Draco asked, biting his lip nervously.
"Yes, and don't do that either. Listen, I know you want father to like you. All you have to do is act a bit more surly and superior. He appreciates that."
"Really?"
"Really. Oh where is that breakfast? Service here is rather awful, don't you think Draco? You know, I think I will give you a demonstration of how to act in order to get father to appreciate you a bit more as a passable pureblood. Of course, I will always be the far more passable pureblood. Just joking, Draco! Honestly, you must learn to appreciate one's sense of humor."
"I'm sorry," Draco murmured.
"Pishposh, there's nothing to be sorry about, dear brother, you just need to be more open minded."
The door handle turned just then, and a boy about Herculen's age stood there holding a tray of food.
"You're late," Herculen spat at the boy before he even had a chance to speak. "How long does it take one to make breakfast here?"
"Pardon," the boy bowed slightly.
"Just hand the food here," Herculen snapped, however his lip curled back in disgust the moment he had the plate in his hands.
"What is this? I asked for over-easy eggs. I can tell that these are ridiculously runny. Did you cook them at all?"
"Pardon, Master Malfoy, would you like some more eggs?" the boys stammered, clearly afraid of the dangerous glint in Herculen's eyes.
"I would think so, you pathetic little excuse for a wizard. If my father heard about this, he'd shut this place down! Now hurry up before I hex you."
The boy swallowed and nodded vigorously, fleeing the room in seconds.
"See, you do that and father will appreciate you more, I'll bet," Herculen turned to his brother who was staring after the French boy, his brows knitted together.
"You really think so?" Draco asked, turning to stare at his brother's now warm, smiling face.
"I do think so. Just don't do it to teachers at Hogwarts, you want them to love you. If you ever see a chance to make a teacher adore you by ratting out a bad kid or giving them a present, do so immediately! Now, you should give this a try later on. Probably not with the little delivery boy, I don't believe he can take much more, but someone else you encounter. Tell me how it goes!"
Before long, the teenage girl from the day before delivered the Malfoy brothers' breakfast and disappeared in a huff.
"Well, she's not very friendly, is she?" Herculen mocked before digging into his perfectly cooked eggs benedict, his brother pausing before following suit with his warm cereal.
It was determined that Narcissa wanted to go shopping in the nearby town, while Herculen endlessly wanted to go with his father to see an very old manor that had been turned into a museum. However, they had an age rule at that museum and Draco didn't qualify. Frankly, his father didn't seem to mind, so Draco was left to entertain himself at the inn.
After studying his potions book from Snape and playing with the little silver dragon, Draco found himself to be quite bored, and hungry. It was past his lunch time when he called for room service, yet his call wasn't answered. Slightly frustrated, Draco sent the call again, yet there was still no response. Frowning, he decided to go downstairs and ask the front desk about it, despite his mother's demand that he stay locked up in his room all day.
Downstairs, Draco found a middle aged man working the front desk. Draco didn't recognize him, but he approached him anyway and asked why the room service wasn't working. Maybe he'd even try his brother's act.
"Lunch is only served from eleven to one. It is now two o'clock gamin," the man frowned down at the boy, who suddenly felt very embarrassed. However, he did his best impression of his brother's frown.
"Well…. Well who cares, you should deliver it anyway! This estab… establish…This establishmend has terrible service!"
The man only snorted, turning back to his work.
"So, you're not going to do room service?" Draco asked.
"Aucun," the man replied, to which Draco only shook his head, confused. Then the man told Draco: "You leave, gamin."
Then the man turned and began to walk into the back of the hotel.
"I expect better in the future!" Draco called after the inn worker, trying to keep his voice from shaking as the man turned as gave Draco a disapproving look.
"Do you, gamin?" the inn keeper snorted. Then he muttered something in French as he turned and continued to walk away. Desperate to elicit a reaction similar to how Herculen's conversation had gone, Draco wracked his brain for a something powerful to say. Finally, lacking anything better, Draco remembered something Herculen had said, and he shouted a similar phrase.
"My father will hear about this!" Draco shouted after the inn keeper, who turned around, bemused.
"Your fatheir?" The inn keeper's strong accent was filled with amusement, similar to his eyes.
"Yes, Lucius Malfoy!" Draco declared. He was nearly giving up at this point in trying to be like his brother, but suddenly fear filled the inn keeper's eyes.
"Lucius Malfoy is your père? Your fatheir?"
Draco nodded slowly, baffled by this change in the inn keeper, and the man fumbled with a pen near him, scribbling a note with shaking hands. He dropped the pen, and Draco was about to pick it up, when the inn keeper shook his head desperately.
"No no, no need for that Monsieur Malfoy. You go right up to your room! Someone shall be up to assist you, immédiatement!"
Nodding slowly, Draco retreated up the stairs, wondering over the inn keeper's strange reaction to Draco's father's name. Did the name Lucius Malfoy really hold so much power that it's mere mention could get things done?
A few minutes later, a hotel maid was delivering a package of sweets in 'apology for any inconvenience', and assisting Draco with anything he needed.
'Perhaps I should bring up my father's name more often?" Draco distantly wondered as his lunch was severed within moments on a shining silver tray.
When Herculen came home that night, Draco told him about his experience with the innkeeper, and Herculen's eyes shown.
"Amazing job, Draco," Herculen smiled at his brother. "I'm sure father will like you now."
AU: So, what do you think? Please review and tell me your opinion of Herculen or anything else :)