Posted: 11/28/2015

Beta: theartfulscribbler

Diagon Alley Part 2

After supper that evening Narcissa made sure that Jane took her promised bath. As she had to sleep in the same room with the mudblood, she was sorely tempted to let herself in the lavatory and give Jane a thorough scrubbing herself. She felt a strong desire to wash behind Jane's ears and shampoo, rinse, and repeat, shampoo, rinse, and repeat, etcetera, etcetera. Luckily, this dire urge to clean a creature as nasty as Jane collided with her propriety. Ironically, it was her sense of decorum that had prompted Narcissa to agree to share a room with Jane in the first place.

If her Lucius and her Draco were the only men involved, then none of it would have been an issue. However, Cissa didn't really know Theodore and Jr. Not really. Although she had been loosely acquainted with every respectable Pure-blood family since her birth, forty-three years had disabused Cissa of certain notions of nobility that she had been raised to believe were the core of decent society. She didn't want to examine her feelings of unease at the idea of Nott or his son sleeping in the same room with anybody as helpless and ignorant as Jane. If Jane weren't so young, she wouldn't have cared one way or the other. It wasn't that she thought they might rape her. Although she didn't know what sort of proclivities Nott might indulge, she did know that he had enough sense not to rattle the child and chance incurring the Dark Lord's displeasure. But she was worried that one or both of them might…try to seduce her. Probably not, it was a ridiculous idea to be sure; but Cissa thought that perhaps Jane might be susceptible to the sort of male attention of which she had, being an orphan, been deprived.

This disturbing idea could be dated back about a week ago when she had watched Draco sit on the floor to play that silly board game with Jane, on the evening of the wasp. Draco had hoped that Jane wouldn't hold him at his word, but she had, she was clearly intent on it. So Draco had found a game, a very simple one, and sat down with the cripple on a thick soft rug in the sitting room. He had painstakingly explained the rules to her and then proceeded to play two rounds with her. It wasn't the sort of game where winning revolved around actual knowledge or strategy, but rather mere chance. Poor Draco had been bored out of his skull the entire time and he'd only agreed to play the second game because Jane had started whining about it. But Jane had certainly enjoyed herself. When she'd won the second game she had expressed her pleasure with her entire body, smiling, applauding herself, and she even wriggled her bottom a bit in her excitement. The Malfoys had all laughed at her enthusiasm. She'd reminded Narcissa strongly of a puppy. And then the next day she'd asked Draco to play with her again. He'd refused of course. But then Narcissa and Lucius both noticed that Jane had sort of seemed to follow Draco around for a while that day. He had noticed it as well, and finally, growing sick of his stinky shadow, turned to her and said, "Look, Poisson, I'm not going to scratch you behind the ears or rub your belly. Go away!"

"Fine," she had yelled, "I's goin' to brush my's teef!"

"Good," he'd answered, with calm satisfaction, "and why don't you wash your smelly armpits while you're at it?"

She didn't return from brushing her teeth, and they'd had to hunt her down, again.

So Narcissa didn't want Jane to spend the night in a room with only Nott or his son for a guardian. And the fact that Jane had seemed opposed to it had caused her to wonder if the child herself had seen Nott, in the course of spying for Dumbledore, engage in behaviors that were…abnormal. Cissa wouldn't allow herself to think of this as protecting Jane. That would seem too much like caring, but essentially that's what she was doing.

It saddened Narcissa to know that the only people in the world whose nature she could always rely on were her own, her husband's, and her son's. And sometimes she quite shamefully entertained a few doubts about theirs. It wasn't because of anything that either of them said or did, she knew that. It was only because of herself. Well, because of Andromeda actually. It had broken her heart when, at the age of sixteen, she'd realized that she had lost her favorite sister forever.

In hindsight there had been signs. But while it was all happening, it had seemed unbelievable. Droma had sent an owl to their mother and father, but she had also sent Cissa a separate letter. It had simply read:

'I love him, Cissy. I'll miss you, but not as much as I'd miss him.

Please remember me sometimes. I'll never stop remembering you.

Yours ever,

Droma'.

Cissa had thrown that letter into the fire and never told a living soul about it. Not even Lucius. She wasn't trying to burn the letter itself, but she desperately wanted to incinerate the implications of what her sister must have done. Perhaps she was hoping she could cremate her love for her sister.

The next day her mother had sent her an owl explaining that her sister had gone and thrown her life away and it was too terrible to be spoken of; Druella had related the atrocity, as succinctly as possible, in a shaky, nearly illegible scrawl, and had told Cissa not to mention Droma's name to herself or her father, or ever again. When she'd returned home for her Easter holiday a few weeks later, her parents didn't say anything about it. They'd removed every portrait of Andromeda, even the ones where all three sisters had posed together, they had burnt her name off all the family trees, and they'd thrown out all of Droma's belongings from her old room. And from then until now, it was as though she had never been born.

Narcissa still struggled not to remember Droma, she felt so weak when she did, but sometimes she couldn't help it. After all, she had always considered Droma to be the kind one. The unselfish one. How could she have misjudged her sister so completely? To this day she was haunted by it all, and it still affected her. It made it harder for Narcissa to trust people.

After her bath, Jane put on a dressing gown and went to the main room to sit with the grown-ups and listen to them talk. She had seated herself on the sofa, between Teddy and Draco, but even though she was freshly bathed and wearing clean clothes Draco had gotten up and found another seat. Teddy didn't care if she sat beside him, and Jane curled her left leg under herself, reached down and pulled up the artificial one, and then she stretched out in the place Draco had just vacated.

It pleased and amused Cissa to see how mature her son looked as he sat there sipping from his snifter and puffing on his cigarettes. He and Teddy were enumerating the merits of the new Firebolt, comparing it to the last model and all the other superbly inferior brands currently on the market.

"It doesn't hold a candle to the Nimbus 2002. I read in Which Broomstick that the Tornadoes have placed an order for them, so maybe they'll be able to scrape a win at the next Cup," Teddy was saying.

"Perhaps," Draco answered. It was hard for Draco to be animated over Quidditch teams. As a sport he loved it, but every time he had begun to support a certain team, they went and changed up the players so that there were more mudbloods on the pitch than Pure-bloods. So he'd have to find a new one to root for. After a while, it got a bit disheartening. Being the elite made for some hard sacrifices.

Lucius and Nott were discussing fopshkins, which were the newest hat craze that all the stylish wizards were wearing.

"I thought the one Danvers was wearing this afternoon made him look like a chrysanthemum," Lucius said.

Nott, Narcissa, and even Draco, who had heard his father, laughed at this remark.

"I know," Nott agreed after he'd done laughing. "I'll never understand why some men think it's okay to wear that shade of pink."

"Forget the color," Lucius said. "Did you see that ridiculous feather arrangement adorning it? And he had it tilted at the wrong angle. I don't see how his wife lets him leave home that way."

"They're almost exactly like the nerks that were so popular a couple decades ago," Narcissa contributed. "I never liked the nerks and I don't care for the fopshkins either. I wish reeverderns would come back, though."

She and Lucius shared an intimate smile at her mentioning reeverderns. They were the hats that had been in style the year they were engaged. Although the hats had gone out of fashion by their wedding day, for years afterward she would often have Lucius wear this beautiful blue one when they were alone. To this day, if Narcissa saw a picture of a reeverdern, it would make her pulse race and her eyes dilate.

Narcissa stifled a deep sigh of discontent and felt a pang in her hollowed chest. Lucius hadn't made love to her for so long.

"Well Danvers is an idiot. Always has been," Nott said. "He has a head that's thicker than a cauldron bottom. I can't believe he's opposing the elimination of the Muggle Protection Act."

Lucius scoffed. "I can't believe he was supporting it to begin with. I asked him six years ago, why he was helping Arthur Weasley," Lucius pronounced this name like an expletive, "push it through, and you know what he said?"

Lucius had told Nott what Danvers had said to him, more than once, but, following the dictates of decency, he politely pretended he hadn't heard it before.

"He said, 'Muggles are too helpless to pose a threat to our kind, Lucius. Why can't we let them be?'"

Despite the redundancy, Nott and Narcissa both scoffed with aversion.

"If any of his children announced they wanted to mate with a mudblood, you know he'd be singing a different tune," Narcissa observed.

"It's too bad all the Weasleys have gone into hiding. If anyone could lead Jane to Potter, I think it would be one of them," Nott said.

They all looked at Jane. Her eyes were closed and she was breathing deeply. She was asleep. It wasn't even ten o'clock yet so she must have been worn out from the day of traveling and shopping.

The next day was equally productive.

The Notts and Malfoys ushered Jane around the shops, pretending to browse and often buying whatever they fancied.

In the morning Lucius and Draco had stopped by Gringotts and made a trip to their vault. They replenished their moneybags, and Lucius had some family jewels to exchange. The Malfoys had more precious gems than they could wear in a lifetime, so most of it was stored in their cavernous vault. But they often deposited different sets of jewelry for safe-keeping and would bring out different ones that they were fond of, but hadn't worn in a few years. Narcissa had given him a list of certain items in their vast collection that she wanted to take home and wear again.

Jane was a perpetual pain. When they took their eyes off of her, she would slip away from them, never very far, but then they would have to walk around whatever store they were in, searching for her. One time, Narcissa had grown quite frantic after a casual search had established that Jane wasn't hiding around any of the aisles of merchandise.

"Lucius," she had whispered, her eyes widened in her panic, "I can't find Poisson. It isn't here!"

Then all five of them had begun walking around the rows and displays of books. After a few minutes, they'd all become alarmed. Oh Merlin! They'd lost her. So they'd all filed out the door together, hoping fervently that she hadn't managed to hobble very far. But they spotted her right away. She was just sitting on a bench right out front, humming and swinging her good leg, a picture of innocence and boredom.

They all chastised her vehemently but she simply crossed her arms and studied some rubbish lying on the ground in front of her. The mischievous little imp clearly didn't give a damn.

By lunch time they'd crossed paths with two more people from the list. Well they hadn't actually seen Aldous Abbott, but rather his wife. But Jane had assured them that this was good enough.

"Are you sure, Poisson?" Narcissa had probed, needing to be certain before they counted Mr. Abbott as 'seen'.

"'E live wif her?" Jane had asked.

The Malfoys and Notts had exchanged inquisitive glances. They were fairly positive that the Abbotts were still a couple.

"Yes. I'm pretty sure they live together," Narcissa had said. "They're still married."

Jane shrugged and said, "I's just be followin' 'er to 'im, then."

Since this coincided with what they'd heard her tell their master, and she seemed convinced that it would work, they decided to focus on the last person on the list: a Mr. Rugger Boothby.

Narcissa was a bit disappointed that they were almost finished. Diagon Alley wasn't as nice a place as it used to be, but once they were back at home it might be months before they were allowed to leave again. After they spotted Boothby, they were to send a message to Thickness, and then he and Nott would take Jane by car to the Ministry of Magic for a day or two. Jane and Nott would return to the Leaky Cauldron each evening for supper and to sleep, and then once that business was finished, the Malfoys would take her back to the manor. Then her work for the Dark Lord would begin.

Trying to look on the bright side, Narcissa was thankful that they'd finally been able to buy Draco everything he wanted for his birthday. On the day or two when Jane was going to be at the Ministry, Draco and his parents were going back to Twilfitt and Tattings to update their wardrobes.

After they'd eaten some soup and sandwiches at The Dueler's Diner they were on their way to a shop called Paisley's Art Emporium. Lucius and Narcissa had decided to buy Jane any art supplies for which she expressed an interest. The weather had been exceptionally pleasant over the summer, but it couldn't last forever. Once autumn settled in, the chilly winds and cold rains wouldn't permit any more of the outdoor respites that it seemed Jane sorely needed to keep her in a good humor. Unless the Dark Lord miraculously had a change of heart about where Jane should live, it was going to be a long winter. They had already bought her some picture books and whatever else they noticed capturing her attention for more than a few minutes. She was entranced by anything shiny or colorful, so they'd already spent a good deal of money on her. Unloading their cash on the mudblood felt exactly the same as it did when they made charitable contributions to humanitarian causes, a hapless necessity.

They were almost to the art store, passing the entryway to Knockturn Alley, when they were suddenly confronted by Patrick Goyle and Albert Crabbe. These hulking baboons had their sons with them. The Malfoys and Nott and Teddy stopped for a moment and greeted their co-workers.

"Thought you three weren't 'llowed out of the house," Crabbe said, giving spiteful looks to Narcissa and Lucius.

Narcissa detested the lecherous looks she was receiving from Goyle and his son.

"We're here on business for the Dark Lord," Nott told him.

Lucius was furious, and badly wished he had a wand. Crabbe would never dare speak to him this way if he was armed. These mouth-breathing morons had been his closest friends in his days at Hogwarts, much the way Draco had been the undisputed chief of Vincent and Gregory. But after they'd graduated, and especially during the last war, Lucius had realized that while it was fun to tote around these mindless cronies as a schoolboy, it wasn't circumspect for those friendships to carry over into adulthood. Crabbe and Goyle may be Pure-bloods, but they weren't principled, or bright.

Draco was just as uncomfortable seeing Vincent and Gregory as his dad and mum were at seeing their fathers. Their last year at Hogwarts together had been terrible. He couldn't believe how disrespectful his old lackeys had become toward him. And they'd demonstrated an amorous fondness for torture that Draco had found disquieting.

Vincent and Gregory were examining Jane with blatant interest. Jane didn't ignore them the way she had when Teddy had looked her over, but rather she went and tried to hide behind Narcissa.

"Stop that," Narcissa told her.

Narcissa stepped to the side and moved herself back until she and Jane were level, and then she immediately regretted it.

Draco saw Vince whisper something into Greg's ear and cracking identical evil grins they pulled out their wands and started casting spells at Jane.

Without hesitating, Narcissa, Nott, and Teddy pulled out their own wands and pointed them at the large young men.

"Put those wands away this second," Nott hissed at them.

"Not in public, you imbeciles," Lucius said with barely suppressed rage.

Crabbe slapped his son roughly across the back of his head. "Knock it off you two. Not out here!" he bellowed.

A couple of witches and a wizard passing by were watching the group with confused faces.

Upset at being told off in front of everybody, Vince and Greg stowed their wands back in their robes.

They were so mentally deficient! It absolutely killed Draco that these idiots had completed the last year of their education before him. When he remembered all the times he'd helped them write and edit their essays, let them steal peeks at his exam papers, all the late nights he'd spent tutoring those despicable ingrates, all so they could scrape by with mere passes, it made his blood churn. Draco couldn't believe these feckless buffoons had the privilege of having wands when he didn't. Like Teddy, both of them were training to become Death Eaters, and as far as Draco was concerned it would be a sorry day indeed, when these two swelled the ranks.

"What's all the shiny stuff in your mouth?" Vince asked Jane.

The Notts and the Malfoys, who were curious about the pieces of metal adhered to her teeth, but reluctant to show their curiosity about it, looked at Jane, anticipating her answer. But instead of replying she coyly stepped behind Narcissa again. Narcissa gave an audible sigh and said, "We need to be on our way."

Mumbling insincere goodbyes to one another, the Crabbes and Goyles moved off and the rest proceeded to the art store.

~x~}{~x~

They didn't spot Boothby that day, or the next. It wasn't until the fourth day, when they were supping at Lasandra's Tea Room, that they saw him and his wife eating together. As soon as they got back to their suite, Nott sent Thickness an owl telling him to send a Ministry car round the next day.

Once they had the mudblood off of their hands the Malfoys really began to relax and they did some serious shopping. They decided it would probably be wise to buy each other some Christmas presents, so they split up for a good portion of the two days that Jane was with the Minister for Magic. Draco kept returning to Quality Quidditch Supplies to admire the Firebolt, and Lucius, borrowing Cissa's wand, for it would've been suicidal not to, made a couple of trips into Knockturn Alley to purchase some rare, expensive, and illicit potion ingredients that the Dark Lord had ordered him to buy. The Dark Lord had informed Lucius that he and his family would soon begin assisting him with an aggressive, daily regiment of magical experiments on Jane.

Draco didn't spend much gold on himself, though Father had given him loads of it. He did find a gorgeous silver flask with a matching cigarette case, and bought it for himself. He bought Mother a baroque chiffon scarf and a pair of ruby earrings for Christmas. And he bought Father a sleek, glossy pipe that came with a supple leather pouch that had an assortment of pockets. Inside, Father could store the pipe, tobacco, and a gleaming pick, reamer, and tamper. He knew that Father already had one of these, but this new one had some built-in spells that helped keep the tobacco fresh and he hoped Father might appreciate it.

After he'd purchased Father the pipe kit Draco went to Flourish and Blotts. Lately Draco had started to feel that books were an escape rivaled only by flying. Well, that is, unless he wanted to start drinking heavily the way Father did. But he didn't want to do that. He reckoned one inebriate in the family was about all poor Mother could handle.

Draco found a novel that he thought Father would like. The synopsis seemed promising. It was an adventure mystery story, about a wizard who invents a spell that allows the caster to travel to the future, but when another wizard finds out about the spell, he kidnaps the inventor's wife and daughter and tries to coerce him into giving him the incantation. Will he manage to save them, and keep this dastardly villain from wrecking everyone's future?

After he purchased Father the book and a few for himself as well, he was on his way out the door when a display caught his eye. He saw that a new Pure-blood Passion novel had been published.

Smirking to himself, Draco picked it up and examined the cover. Mother loved this sappy mush, though she only read them in secret. When he was fourteen he had found her stash and read quite a few of them. Once he'd gotten used to the flowery, euphemistic language of them, he had found the sex scenes quite titillating; he imagined he had learned a thing or two from them, the least of which was that women have a completely different take on sex than men. Draco chuckled to himself when he remembered Father's reaction when he had been caught reading one.

He was hiding in one of the remoter corners of the manor, down on the second floor of the west wing. Father had walked up softly behind him and, unbeknownst to Draco, leaned over his shoulder to figure out what his son was reading, closeted so far from his parents. Draco was startled out of his wits when he was suddenly jerked from a sultry scene by the sound of Father laughing.

He had immediately, foolishly, tried to hide the book under his leg, and could feel his face flaming with humiliation; but Father, still laughing fit to burst, had just seated himself next to Draco and then, calming down a bit, asked, "Learning anything useful?"

Seeing the amusement in Father's eyes, Draco relaxed a bit and said, "Yeah. Women are bloody mad."

This set Father off on another peal of eye-watering mirth, and this time Draco joined him.

He reached over and casually took the book from Draco and looked it over. "Have you gotten to the part where Lionel and Deitlemeyer duel each other?"

Draco was overcome with laughter again and asked, "You've read it?"

Father, chuckling lightly, responded, "Sometimes I do, though I often just skim through to the sex scenes." (Lucius neglected to mention that he was fond of reading them aloud to Narcissa as a form of pre-foreplay. It drove her wild.)

"Is this how women really see sex?" Draco asked. It was the first time Father had introduced the subject and he did not want to squander it.

"Well," Father, hesitated a bit, wanting to give him an answer that was precise. "Yes and no, son. I believe…that for women, sex is quite different than it is for men, but this," and he held the book up, "is a blatant exaggeration of what a sexual experience is really like for both a man and a woman. Men can be content with just…well," Father fastened his grey eyes on Draco's, a virtual replica of his own, "fucking." It was the crudest thing he had ever heard Father say. "But women are rarely up for just that. They want to be…well," and he held up the book again, "made love to."

"Is it, I mean," Draco swallowed, "is it…hard…to make love to a woman?"

"Well, it's something you have to learn; it's a skill you see, like potion-brewing, or spell-casting, or even riding a broom. It's almost an art," Father told him, his voice taking on a serious tone. "It's a duty sometimes, but a pleasure as well."

"A duty," Draco repeated, his surprise undisguised.

"Well, because…sometimes, if you're tired you won't feel up to it, but if your wife needs it…then, yes," Lucius said, concise, nodding, and he held Draco's eyes again. "A good relationship is based on give and take, Draco. Expectations met and, when you're able to, exceeded. But don't think it isn't fun. It is, Draco. When you're old enough and ready, sex is wonderful."

That's how Father had always been. A lesson imparted at every opportunity and Draco absorbed every word, imbibed them, until Father's every belief was his own.

Father had gotten up at that point, the lesson was over, and, holding out the book to him, said, "Don't let your mother catch you reading that."

"Yes, sir." Draco took it back from him.

He wondered if Mother knew that a new one had been published. He should probably mention it to Father. Draco could not get it for her; that would be too embarrassing for both of them, but he thought Father should. It would make a good Christmas present for her.

Draco heard a familiar giggle behind him, and, emitting a low sigh of resignation, he put the smutty book back on the display and turned around.

"Hey, Pansy," he said.

"Hello, Draco," she said, and giggled again, exposing her crooked teeth. "Do you like the Pure-blood Passion books?"

Draco looked his ex-girlfriend up and down, making her bristle with discomfort at his scrutiny.

Instead of speaking to her, he just shook his head, pleased to see that he still had the power to affect her.

"Yes, I think they're mindless rubbish personally," she said, trying to adopt a pedantic tone that Draco found nauseating.

He ranked running into Pansy right up there with meeting up with Crabbe and Goyle, though for completely different reasons. Pansy, he noticed, had cut her short brown hair even shorter. He took in her small, light brown eyes, her wide bulbous nose and spotty chin and forehead, and wondered why he had ever dated her in the first place. It was probably her breasts he decided as he looked her over; she had pretty large ones.

Knowing precisely how she would react, Draco said, "Mother loves the Passion series."

"Yeah, I sort of like them too. I mean, please don't mention it to anyone, because I wouldn't want people getting the wrong idea, you know, but sometimes I just love to curl up beside a big crackling fire, with a hot cup of tea, and I just read them all the way through, yeah," she backtracked swiftly, not even bothering to breathe in her attempt to negate her previous contempt for something that the man of her dream's mum loved.

And then, for entertainment purposes only, Draco countered, "I think they're pretty stupid myself."

"Yeah, me too," she conversed. "I've only read a couple of them."

"Right," he said tonelessly.

He just stood there for a moment, looking blankly at her, clearly bored. He could see the cogs winding and coiling behind her eyes, while she struggled to think of a topic of conversation that would keep him engaged, interested in her.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, apparently at a loss for something clever to say.

"Shopping," he replied tersely, and held up his shopping bag.

"Me too," she said, and then she lifted her hands. She looked down at them, and appeared shocked to find them so disobligingly empty. "Well, I just got here, so I haven't bought anything yet." And she gave a pathetic, nervous, little titter.

She was such an idiot. She had followed him around like a puppy their entire seventh year, and though he had refused to date her openly again, a few times he had taken her to the dark empty dungeons in the bowels of the castle and snogged her while she let him grope her chest. She had refused to let him go further south than that - not that his attempts were anything more than half-hearted. He just wanted some experience, or at least the satisfaction of knowing that he had gone that far.

"I'll let you get on with it then," he said, mimicking Father's most disinterested drawl. "I'm meeting up with Father and Mother."

"Oh, are you're parents here?" she asked excitedly. She had never met his parents, as she didn't exactly belong to the same set as the Malfoys, but Draco knew she was dying to meet them. When he had been in a relationship with her, she had often told him how much she hoped he would introduce her to them on Platform 9 ¾, but he'd always managed to avoid doing so. By the grace of Merlin.

He just nodded and took a step closer to the exit. He held up his hand and said, "See you around, Parkinson." He caught a glimpse of her hurt expression at his impersonal use of her surname before he walked out of the store.

~x~}{~x~

Jane stopped her gimpy gait and gaped expressionlessly at a large framed picture that had been adhered to a tall brick wall. The Malfoys were leading her down Charring Cross Road, for Lucius was positive that if they went one street over they would find a better place to hail a taxi for the train station. Passing pedestrians were staring in frank amazement at his and Draco's robes, but they didn't pay them any heed.

"Come on, Poisson," Narcissa rebuked her. "We need to hurry and catch the 10:55."

"Why?" Jane asked, not removing her eyes from the poster.

"So we can get home," Lucius explained. She was thicker than Henderson's Magically Hardy Adhesive Glue.

"I's wanna see it," Jane said. "Can we's go?"

All three of them looked at one another, slightly bewildered.

"See what? Go where?" Lucius asked.

Jane, unhelpfully, pointed at the big advertisement.

The Malfoys followed her finger and looked at the picture she was studying. It looked like a group of scantily clad adolescents lined up facing the camera. Like every Muggle photograph the occupants were posing in stationary stupidity. In large writing above the Muggles it said: HOW DO I LOATHE THEE? LET ME COUNT THE WAYS, and then below these words, in even bigger writing: 10 things I hate about you.

"It's a picture Poisson, we can look at it, but we can't go inside of it," Lucius said, baffled at her strange request.

Lucius thought for a moment that Jane rolled her eyes.

"It's a flicker, Mr. Malfoy. A cimena," she told him. "I's wanna go."

The Malfoys had no idea what she was talking about. Draco shifted his new broom from his right shoulder to his left, annoyed at this cryptic delay. They had used magic to transport all of their luggage and the new things they'd bought back to the manor. But Draco wasn't about to let go of the Firebolt, not for a second.

"What the hell is a flicker, Poisson? If it's some Muggle nonsense, you can forget about it," Draco told her.

"It's bein' a moving picture, like a play," she said quietly. "Is so funny, some of 'em, and I's love 'em. Please? Mr. Dumbledore and Sirius be taking me's a right load of times!"

The Malfoy were rapidly feeling enraged at her request. They'd heard of these moving pictures before, but they'd be damned if they would ever willingly sit through one. It was common knowledge that they were like plays except there weren't any actors actually present, just some soft, white wall. To sit in the dark, and spend a few hours breathing in the same air as a large auditorium of stinking Muggles sounded nothing short of torture. And these moving pictures sounded uncomfortably close to magic for the Malfoys liking.

Lucius leaned down and spat angrily at the stupid girl, "We don't care what those two mudblood-loving traitors did to keep you happy! We'll never take you anywhere so closely connected to the Muggle world and that's an end to it! And don't mention those vile idiots again, if you know what's good for you!"

He put his hand on her back and pushed her forward, being careful not to do it too roughly, lest she fall over. "Get a move on. Now!"

And they proceeded home, without further incident.