Hooray! Longer Chapter!
The morning dawned bright and clear, so Draco spent the morning outdoors flying random paths around the manor grounds. He ignored the rings his father had enchanted, preferring for once to focus only on the thrill of flying. He did not enjoy Quidditch at Hogwarts as much as he let on to his parents, mainly because of Flint's obnoxious attitude. Although Draco felt he had a friend in Adrian Pucey, that friendship wasn't enough to completely erase the dislike emanating from the team captain. All in all, practices were not as enjoyable as Draco had thought, and the Quidditch matches were more manifestations of house rivalry than real sporting events.
His head cleared from the brisk winds of flight, Draco cleaned and stored his broomstick. He knew a house elf would probably give the broom another cleaning, but nothing soothed Draco like focusing his mind on one small task at a time, like clipping bent twigs, or re-varnishing scuffs on his broom.
As he made his way back to the Manor, Draco realized that there was something to be said for doing things by hand, rather than by magic. His mother, for example, would never allow house elves to de-gnome her rose gardens—that was her special garden, and she could often be seen with her long blonde hair tied back, scrambling after a gnome or tugging at weeds. Draco's father even stooped to menial labor when it came to training the winged horses he bred and raced. Draco remembered being shocked one morning to see his father actually carrying the heavy pail filled with the magical grain the horses consumed.
Why do we make fun of muggles for doing everything by hand? Draco mused, unaware he was projecting to Daphne, I know I certainly enjoy the routine of cleaning the brooms in the broom shed. Why does it matter that a muggle wouldn't be able to weed a garden with a wand when my own mother doesn't mind getting down in the dirt to garden? Miles away, Daphne smiled, but did not reply.
Draco cursed. He was attempting to make himself a bacon, lettuce, and tomato sandwich WITHOUT using the magic "FryPerfect pan ™" or the "AutoSlice knife ™" but all he was managing to do was burn the bacon and the bread, and mutilate the lettuce and tomato. How did the muggles do it? Draco finally gave in and pulled out the magical cooking devices. The only reason they even had non-magical utensils was for Narcissa, who insisted that a perfect lemon curd could only be cooked without magic, and that the magical knives were too brutish to julienne properly.
After lunch, Draco searched out his mother. She was in "her" sitting room, sipping a cup of tea absently as she made notations in the margins of a scholarly article on the uses of bicorn powder. Narcissa was much smarter than she let on to most people, preferring to play the vapid trophy wife if only because it was the role expected of her. She held up a finger, signaling Draco to wait while she underlined a phrase from the article, and scribbled something next to it. She closed the journal and looked up expectantly.
"I was wondering if I could go to London for the afternoon. I just want to get out of the house for a bit." Draco shifted from one foot to another as he awaited her reply. Narcissa frowned at him.
"You think I would allow my twelve year old son to go to Diagon Alley alone?" She raised an eyebrow, "So you didn't think, you just hoped. Well, I'm afraid not." Draco sagged. "No, dearest," Narcissa went on, "it simply isn't safe. I'd much rather you bring Nobby with you. She'll keep watch without getting too intrusive."
Draco was relieved. He knew his mother would never allow him to wander un-chaperoned, but he was afraid she would insist on a human to accompany him, and all Draco really wanted was the chance to wander aimlessly, something he realized few grown-ups enjoyed.
Hours later, even the subservient Nobby seemed annoyed with Draco. The pair had wandered throughout Muggle London, often pausing as Draco stared vacantly at some thing or another in thought. It was in a park, watching Muggle children play as their parents casually watched from the shady benches that Draco's thoughts turned from simple "I say, look at that woman! She's covered in metal things sticking into her face…I wonder if she ran into a 'company member?'" to the deeper thinking he had set out to do.
It was obvious, Draco thought, staring at children at a muggle playground. How had Draco never given any thought to the positions his father held? Draco did not like to think of his loving father as a "bad guy," but he realized that was how most of the wizarding world saw him. Draco did not like to think about the negative connotations that went with being a Malfoy. To Draco, his parents should have thought more carefully before dragging the Malfoy name through the mud, as they had by associating with a wizard Draco now saw as twisted at best, and absolutely deranged at worst.
What would he say to his father when he turned fifteen? The thought stole into his head, unbidden, that for his family's safety, they must either all renounce Voldemort, or his parents would have to publicly disown him the minute he expressed light leaning tendencies. Who will even believe I'm capable of being decent? Draco suddenly panicked. What if I go through all the heartache of publicly splitting from my parents, only to find that the people who count all still think I'm a bad guy in training? Such thoughts did not sit well with Draco, because he did not know how to get around the problem. On the one hand, he couldn't act decent until his parents renounced him because he couldn't put them in danger, but on the other hand, what good would renouncing him do if Draco's split with darkness only threw him to the Weasley wolves?
Draco could only imagine the field day the Weasley clan would have with a defenseless Draco. He would be at their mercy, and they would exploit every minute of it. They would probably be decent to him in front of Harry Potter, but the minute no one else was around…Draco knew he would have to avoid that situation as much as possible. The last thing he would need is a pack of Weasleys trying to manipulate his life.
Draco was staring off into the distance, so caught up in self pity that he almost didn't see the flash of bright blonde hair. With a start, he realized he was seeing Susanna Miller. He hadn't spoken to her since the incident on the Quidditch pitch. Well, more accurately, Susanna hadn't spoken to him since the incident. Draco hopped off the bench, ignoring Nobby's mutter of "finally!" and ran toward the girl. He faltered for a second when he saw she was with two adults, clearly her parents. Her mother was a willowy brunette and had the same friendly smile as her daughter, while her dad, a short plump man who was dwarfed by wife and daughter, definitely shared Susanna's quirky eyebrows. Draco decided to introduce himself, even though they were muggles. After all, the "old crowd" wouldn't come near this part of town if they were paid to do so. Susanna saw Draco before her parents, and looked about for a way to avoid him. Seeing no way out, she sighed, and tried to avoid looking at him.
"Hello Susanna! How's your summer?" Draco didn't wait for a reply but turned to her parents "And you must be her parents. I'm Draco Malfoy, and I go to school with Susanna. Have you gotten used to the owls yet?" Mrs. Miller smiled.
"It took awhile to get used to it. Our neighbors get suspicious, actually. They talked of calling animal control, because the owls in our neighborhood are so 'peculiar.' Their word, not mine." Draco thought for a second.
"Have you considered purchasing an owl? You can specify a special breed of owl that has "notice me not" feathers. Basically, you'd see the owl, and so would any magical person, but your neighbors wouldn't notice a thing." Mr. Miller looked deep in thought. Susanna was still avoiding Draco's eyes.
"Draco Malfoy, eh?" Mr. Miller had a deep voice, which was unusual for such a short man. "I remember reading about you in Susanna's letters. She mentioned you quite a few times in the earlier months at school, but stopped talking about you entirely. Did you fall out of touch at school?" Clearly Mr. Miller was shrewder than his appearance let on. Draco swallowed before replying, choosing his words carefully.
"Actually, sir, Susanna fell out of touch with me. I was unpardonably rude to a friend of hers early on last year, and I haven't been able to talk to her to apologize. That's why I came over to talk to you now." Draco noticed Susanna was looking at him out of the corner of her eye as she pretended to look at the trees in the park. He took this as a good sign, and decided to press his luck. "Mr. and Mrs. Miller, I was wondering if I could buy Susanna an ice cream in Diagon Alley to apologize, and perhaps to explain my behavior. You would be welcome to come along as well, of course." He paused, waiting for a reply. Susanna's mother was the first to speak.
"I suppose we've done all our non-magic shopping for the day, and we were planning to pop over to the Alley to buy some school supplies for Susy. She's running out of parchment from working on that essay for that teacher Snape. Doesn't he understand that the summer's meant to be a time for relaxation?" Mrs. Miller pursed her lips good naturedly, the crinkle around her eyes belying the complaining words. "Or so Susanna says. I personally think it's good the man takes his teaching so seriously." Susanna abandoned all pretence of ignoring Draco, facing him straight on for the first time the whole conversation.
"I guess getting some ice cream wouldn't hurt anything. Will your house elf come, too?" Draco's eyes widened slightly, impressed Susanna could see through Nobby's glamour.
"Yes, she'll come too. She's my chaperone on this trip." He held his arm out to Susanna with an exaggerated flourish. "Shall we?" Susanna gave a small giggle, taking his arm. The two made meaningless small talk as they walked with the Miller adults to Diagon Alley. Susanna pulled her wand to tap the brick behind the Leaky Cauldron, and Draco steered her to Florean Fortescue's ice cream parlor. Susanna's parents took their leave with the promise to be back in an hour to collect their daughter.
"I've never been here before," Susanna was preoccupied with the decorations in the ice cream parlor. Draco, who was better used to the zany knick knacks and posters was able to examine the flavors on display in a magically cooled case.
"Excellent, Nobby, they have Butterscotch. Do you want your usual?" Draco smiled as the small elf blushed and nodded vigorously. One thing that greatly endeared the elf to Draco was her love of sweets, and he always made a point of getting her ice cream when he visited Fortescue's. Draco stepped up to the counter.
"One extra large Butterscotch Willow Whomper, a double honey peach scoop with a butter cookie, and…" Draco trailed off, turning to Susanna. "Whatever she's having." Susanna frowned.
"My parents gave me money!" She hissed at Draco, who simply smiled and motioned to the man waiting for her order. Susanna growled, but didn't argue further. "One scoop of mint chocolate chip with chocolate snitch sprinkles, please." Draco paid, and carried the purchases to two adjacent booths. He got Nobby situated with her ice cream at one booth, fussing over the elf, tucking a napkin into her tunic and pouring her a glass of water until the elf finally shooed him away with an "I's trying to eats this!"
"You know," said Susanna, having watched the production "That's not really how I pictured a house elf to act. I mean, she's not subservient at all." Susanna suddenly looked worried, "Oh, will she be offended if she hears me talk like that?" Draco smiled, glad Susanna was such a thoughtful girl that she worried about hurting an elf's feelings.
"Actually, Fortescue's tables all have anti-eavesdropper spells on the booths, so you don't have to worry about being overheard. That's actually part of why I chose this place to talk to you." Draco took a large bite of his ice cream, closing his eyes as the creamy treat melted on his tongue before continuing. "I mean, I have a lot to talk to you about, and I also wanted to apologize to you," He noticed Susanna's eyes went hard as she remembered the incident for which Draco was apologizing, but plowed on.
"I'll get the obvious out of the way. I'm so incredibly sorry to call anyone that terrible name. I was not in a good place at the time, and I was incredibly mad at Hermione Granger, but that's no excuse for how I acted. I've given a lot of thought to how I've been raised, and I realize now that I've been given a biased view of how muggles live and act, and I've realized that there is nothing shameful about being the first witch or wizard in your family. I also have decided that should That Guy (the really bad one) ever return fully, I won't even consider following him. I cannot support a man who would try to hurt my friends, and I count you as one of my friends, even if you no longer want to count me among your friends. And, well, yeah. That's it." Draco trailed off lamely, trying to hid his less-than-graceful statement by taking a big bite of ice cream, but choked. Spluttering, Draco took a gulp of water. Eyes watering, he looked at Susanna. "Well?" he asked.
"Well," Susanna replied "I think that's all good. And I still count you as a friend. I was really mad at you. But that's in the past, and I won't bring it up again if you are serious about moving over to the light side." She smiled, but Draco frowned. Would she really forgive him that easily?
"That's it? I'm forgiven?" Draco couldn't believe his good luck. A Slytherin would have expected at least two 'I'm sorry' gifts to make up for his behavior. Susanna grinned at him, her nose wrinkling.
"That's it. I'm not really one to hold a grudge when someone has apologized for acting badly. I mean, if you don't WANT to be forgiven—" Draco interrupted immediately.
"No, forgiveness is good."
Dear Draco,
I received yet another letter from you. I'm starting to think you miss me, if the twelve letters in four days is any indication. No, I still won't tell you what happened in the Chamber. No, I don't want to hear yet again about how good Potter is at Quidditch. And, yes, I will take you to visit your friend Miss Greengrass. Her father is actually a friend of mine. I will pick you up Tuesday next. Be prepared to leave at precisely 10 am. I don't plan to wait around while you pack your entire manor into a suitcase.
Love,
Uncle Severus
Okay. That's a chapter, folks. Review please, so I have inspiration to get the next chapter out quickly. In your review, let me know what you think of the story, and if you would be too incredibly offended if I had the vacationers visit America, rather than somewhere in Europe. I wanted to write about a place I've actually visited, rather than a place I'd have only read about. Keep in mind if I actually have to research European vacation spots, the next chapter could take a bit longer in writing.
C