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Disclaimer: ‘Our Father which art in heaven, hallowed be thy name, do not give me my daily bread, instead please bestow upon me the rights to Harry potter. Amen.' -Additionally, the character of Mrs. Landingham comes from the wonderful world of West Wing.
Friday, July 20th, 2007
The summer heat oppresses him, wrapping him up like an unhappy baby in a stuffy blanket. There are no clouds above promising rain or protection from the intolerable glare of the sun. He sighs as he enters his workplace, nodding to the receptionist who refuses to accept his continuous rejections for a date, before taking the lift up to his office. He does not do magic here; this is his sanctuary from the spells and charms his world is made of. He stays silent as the lift climbs higher and higher - he has no need to make small talk with others; there are some benefits of being the CEO – and as it arrives at the uppermost level, only he remains in the lift. His shoes make the only sound on the polished floor as he walks past the large offices towards his own – the largest one. He pauses just outside as he does everyday; his every action is planned, manipulated, programmed. Draco Malfoy is a precise man, very precise, in fact. His secretary hands him some letters and a memo of his next meeting before he enters the dark, overbearing world of a ruthless businessman. She is an old woman, with white hair, a few wrinkles, and a calm temperament. She stays because he needs her, because he trusts her even though she is a squib, even when he shouts and throws things around, she stays because she is the mother he always desired, not that he would admit it. She has been here since the beginning of his life as Master of the House; she has met every friend, every associate, everyone he deems worthy.
His office consists of very little, even though its size is overwhelming. The colours are predictably impersonal – black and grey with a little white. The wall looking out into the street below is covered from ceiling to floor in tinted windows, hiding him from the world. There is nothing to reflect him in this dreariness – no silver frames with smiling children or a wife, no artwork indicating a preference, nothing at all. Yet Draco Malfoy is happiest here, with no one to disturb the silence or give him puzzled, curious looks. He is free from his demons, which pester him at home, the demons of a family who caused little but sadness and destruction to others. He has no memories here, happy or haunting, except for the countless business deals he has made, nearly daily. Draco takes his pen in hand – a quill is of little use to him here- and begins his work. After all, there is money to be made.
It is after lunch when the nondescript owl arrives, even though he detests owls arriving in a muggle place. Owls are abnormal and odd; the antithesis of what Draco Malfoy desperately wants to be. He quickly takes the sealed letter from its beak before making the bird leave his office. He finds the arrival of a letter interesting; it has been a long time since he has received an owl. Yet his curiosity overrides his initial wariness as he breaks the seal. It is a handwritten letter to him, somewhat hesitantly, Draco thinks, as if the writer were not sure as if it was wise to share this information with him. It is not very long but its substance is significant, and Draco Malfoy falls, carelessly, into his chair. He feels the last flicker of light is his ever-darkening world go out. For Draco Malfoy, all hope is lost.
Many minutes pass before he thinks of checking if the information is right, and as he orders for a copy of the Daily Prophet to be brought to him immediately, Draco Malfoy, a lapsed believer, prays to God in heaven that the letter is a lie, a malicious prank, anything but true. Draco Malfoy does not know if he could bear for it to be true.
As his secretary enters with the paper in her hand, Draco knows, deep down, that the letter was telling the truth, but with the small amount of hope humans have- that maybe, just maybe, everything will be okay - Draco Malfoy takes the paper from Mrs Landingham and begins reading it.
*Ginny Potter Dies!*
Ginevra ‘Ginny’ Potter, beloved wife of war hero Harry Potter and daughter of Minster of Magic Arthur Weasley, passed away late last night at the family home. Mrs Potter, 26, had been suffering from a severe muggle illness known as cancer for many months before her death. Renowned Medi-witch Dympna Bonham had been trying for several months to find a cure for the famous Order of the Phoenix member, but she had been unsuccessful in her attempts. Early this morning, outside the Potters’ home, her eldest brother, and fellow Order member, Bill Weasley, gave this statement “It is with great sadness that I pronounce the death of my youngest sibling and sister, Ginny Potter, who last night lost her battle against Cancer. She brought joy into the hearts of many, and the world is a sadder place without her presence. Her family and friends will miss her dearly. We hope that the press and public can let us grieve in peace in these coming days. Thank you.” It is believed that the funeral will take place on Sunday afternoon and will only be for friends and family. However, there will be a service open to the public on Friday, 27th July at the Godric Anglican Church. All are welcome to attend.
Draco looks up to see his secretary giving him a pitying look and sits up straight; no one, not even his beloved Mrs. Landingham pities Draco Malfoy, one of the richest and most powerful men in Europe. As she turns to leave, Draco Malfoy call out to her, somewhat softer than his usual manner, “Mrs. Landingham, would you please see to it that all my meetings on Monday are rescheduled for a later date?”
“Of course, sir, is there anything else?”
“No, that will be all for now.”
Draco Malfoy waits for her to leave before taking out the private supply of parchment he keeps for wizarding matters. He writes a simple note to the Ron Weasley, the sender of the owl, that he would be honoured to attend the funeral. He folds it up and seals it with wax before reluctantly summoning his owl, Arnaud, to deliver his message.
Draco stands facing the wall of windows as the bird sweeps and dives before flying out of sight, leaving him the ominous sight of a windy summer’s day with little respite from the sun.
In under an hour Draco Malfoy’s life had unequivocally changed, and as he heads back to his desk to resume his work, he felt a sense of misfortune wash over him, as he lets go of one last dream.
A.N – I know it all sounds a tad weird but it will (fingers-crossed) start making sense in the next chapter.
Moreover, in case you are wondering (highly doubtful) the Medi-witch gets her name from a combination of a Celtic-Gaelic name for the patron saint of the mentally ill and her surname from the founder of St. Mungo’s. (Information of who is available at Lexicon).
Friday, July 20th, 2007
The summer heat oppresses him, wrapping him up like an unhappy baby in a stuffy blanket. There are no clouds above promising rain or protection from the intolerable glare of the sun. He sighs as he enters his workplace, nodding to the receptionist who refuses to accept his continuous rejections for a date, before taking the lift up to his office. He does not do magic here; this is his sanctuary from the spells and charms his world is made of. He stays silent as the lift climbs higher and higher - he has no need to make small talk with others; there are some benefits of being the CEO – and as it arrives at the uppermost level, only he remains in the lift. His shoes make the only sound on the polished floor as he walks past the large offices towards his own – the largest one. He pauses just outside as he does everyday; his every action is planned, manipulated, programmed. Draco Malfoy is a precise man, very precise, in fact. His secretary hands him some letters and a memo of his next meeting before he enters the dark, overbearing world of a ruthless businessman. She is an old woman, with white hair, a few wrinkles, and a calm temperament. She stays because he needs her, because he trusts her even though she is a squib, even when he shouts and throws things around, she stays because she is the mother he always desired, not that he would admit it. She has been here since the beginning of his life as Master of the House; she has met every friend, every associate, everyone he deems worthy.
His office consists of very little, even though its size is overwhelming. The colours are predictably impersonal – black and grey with a little white. The wall looking out into the street below is covered from ceiling to floor in tinted windows, hiding him from the world. There is nothing to reflect him in this dreariness – no silver frames with smiling children or a wife, no artwork indicating a preference, nothing at all. Yet Draco Malfoy is happiest here, with no one to disturb the silence or give him puzzled, curious looks. He is free from his demons, which pester him at home, the demons of a family who caused little but sadness and destruction to others. He has no memories here, happy or haunting, except for the countless business deals he has made, nearly daily. Draco takes his pen in hand – a quill is of little use to him here- and begins his work. After all, there is money to be made.
It is after lunch when the nondescript owl arrives, even though he detests owls arriving in a muggle place. Owls are abnormal and odd; the antithesis of what Draco Malfoy desperately wants to be. He quickly takes the sealed letter from its beak before making the bird leave his office. He finds the arrival of a letter interesting; it has been a long time since he has received an owl. Yet his curiosity overrides his initial wariness as he breaks the seal. It is a handwritten letter to him, somewhat hesitantly, Draco thinks, as if the writer were not sure as if it was wise to share this information with him. It is not very long but its substance is significant, and Draco Malfoy falls, carelessly, into his chair. He feels the last flicker of light is his ever-darkening world go out. For Draco Malfoy, all hope is lost.
Many minutes pass before he thinks of checking if the information is right, and as he orders for a copy of the Daily Prophet to be brought to him immediately, Draco Malfoy, a lapsed believer, prays to God in heaven that the letter is a lie, a malicious prank, anything but true. Draco Malfoy does not know if he could bear for it to be true.
As his secretary enters with the paper in her hand, Draco knows, deep down, that the letter was telling the truth, but with the small amount of hope humans have- that maybe, just maybe, everything will be okay - Draco Malfoy takes the paper from Mrs Landingham and begins reading it.
*Ginny Potter Dies!*
Ginevra ‘Ginny’ Potter, beloved wife of war hero Harry Potter and daughter of Minster of Magic Arthur Weasley, passed away late last night at the family home. Mrs Potter, 26, had been suffering from a severe muggle illness known as cancer for many months before her death. Renowned Medi-witch Dympna Bonham had been trying for several months to find a cure for the famous Order of the Phoenix member, but she had been unsuccessful in her attempts. Early this morning, outside the Potters’ home, her eldest brother, and fellow Order member, Bill Weasley, gave this statement “It is with great sadness that I pronounce the death of my youngest sibling and sister, Ginny Potter, who last night lost her battle against Cancer. She brought joy into the hearts of many, and the world is a sadder place without her presence. Her family and friends will miss her dearly. We hope that the press and public can let us grieve in peace in these coming days. Thank you.” It is believed that the funeral will take place on Sunday afternoon and will only be for friends and family. However, there will be a service open to the public on Friday, 27th July at the Godric Anglican Church. All are welcome to attend.
Draco looks up to see his secretary giving him a pitying look and sits up straight; no one, not even his beloved Mrs. Landingham pities Draco Malfoy, one of the richest and most powerful men in Europe. As she turns to leave, Draco Malfoy call out to her, somewhat softer than his usual manner, “Mrs. Landingham, would you please see to it that all my meetings on Monday are rescheduled for a later date?”
“Of course, sir, is there anything else?”
“No, that will be all for now.”
Draco Malfoy waits for her to leave before taking out the private supply of parchment he keeps for wizarding matters. He writes a simple note to the Ron Weasley, the sender of the owl, that he would be honoured to attend the funeral. He folds it up and seals it with wax before reluctantly summoning his owl, Arnaud, to deliver his message.
Draco stands facing the wall of windows as the bird sweeps and dives before flying out of sight, leaving him the ominous sight of a windy summer’s day with little respite from the sun.
In under an hour Draco Malfoy’s life had unequivocally changed, and as he heads back to his desk to resume his work, he felt a sense of misfortune wash over him, as he lets go of one last dream.
A.N – I know it all sounds a tad weird but it will (fingers-crossed) start making sense in the next chapter.
Moreover, in case you are wondering (highly doubtful) the Medi-witch gets her name from a combination of a Celtic-Gaelic name for the patron saint of the mentally ill and her surname from the founder of St. Mungo’s. (Information of who is available at Lexicon).
To Be Continued.
JuliusCaesar is the author of 6 other stories.
This story is a favorite of 4 members. Members who liked Dear Draco also liked 216 other stories.
This story is a favorite of 4 members. Members who liked Dear Draco also liked 216 other stories.
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