Chapter 3

The Malfoy Manor

Draco opened his eyes. The rush of air stung his pupils and he winced. A sudden gust of wind blew through his pale hair, whistled through his robes, whispered near his ears. He smiled slightly as he was struck with the familiar smell of freshly mown grass mingled with the aromatic scent of his mother’s favorite daffodils.

“All right there, Dear?” Roger’s mother was looking at him uncertainly while occasionally fluttering her eyes towards the Malfoy Manor. “I’ve come to the right spot, haven’t I?”

“What? Oh, yeah, this is it,” Draco replied vaguely. He suddenly noticed a strange pressure on his left hand, and jerked his arm away from Roger’s mother’s firm grip. He stumbled slightly and mumbled, “Oh-“

“No worries,” she replied kindly.

An awkward pause lingered for a few moments until Draco cleared his throat. “Well, Mrs.-” He paused uncertainly, realizing that he did not know Roger’s surname.

“Mrs. Laurry. But please, call me Shannon.”

“Fine.”

Mrs. Laurry, glancing again at the manor, asked hesitantly, “What’s that squawking noise I hear?”

Draco strained his ears (which were still buzzing from Apparating). And then he heard it; a faint screeching coming from behind the gates. “Oh that,” Draco said, rolling his eyes. “Those are the peacocks.”

“Peacocks?” Mrs. Laurry sputtered indecorously. “Why, in Merlin’s name, are there peacocks on your lawn?”

“Mr. Malfoy is actually quite fond of them,” Draco replied coolly.

Mrs. Laurry blushed and mumbled, “Oh-I see…well, that’s lovely-”

“No matter,” Draco said.

“So, are we going in, Dennis?”

Draco looked at Mrs. Laurry appraisingly. Her gray hair seemed more bushy than usual and her bulky coat was frayed and patched up with tacky patterned squares. At the moment, she was constantly licking her chapped lips and was picking dirt from beneath her nails (rather nervously, Draco noticed). At one thought of what his mother would say once she saw him accompanying her, he made his decision.

“Actually,” Draco began slowly. “I think it’d be best if you stayed here.”

“Are-are you sure?” Mrs. Laurry asked earnestly, although she looked considerably relieved. “Really, Dennis, it’s no problem at all.”

“No, really. It would be for the best.” He didn’t bother masking the obvious rudeness in his tone.

But Mrs. Laurry took no notice of Draco’s impolite behavior. In fact, rather than looking indignant, she began to chew her bottom lip, making her look more anxious than before. She looked as though she desperately wanted to say something, but her lack of eye contact made it apparent that she was not going to bring it up on her own.

“Is there something wrong?” Draco asked.

“Something wrong? Oh, of course not.”

When Draco did not retract his pointed stare, she held her breath, but reluctantly continued. “Well- I’m just curious. How do you happen to know the Malfoys? I mean, with their- not so popular image these days, one can never be too sure…” At her last sentence, she trailed off and averted her eyes towards her shoes, pretending to be very interested in crushing a line of ants that marched by her toes.

Draco had been prepared for the question- after all, it was bound to come up, wasn’t it? Here he was, Apparating onto the threshold of one of the most hated wizarding families of all time- it would be foolish to think that even a frumpy witch like Mrs. Laurry would remain silent.

“My mother works here as Mrs. Malfoy’s personal cook. The Malfoy family has let my mother and me stay on the ground floor as residents.” Draco gazed steadily at Mrs. Laurry, though he could feel a shameful flush run up his neck…the only Malfoy heir posing as a cook’s son…his father would have been appalled.

“Ah, I see! It must be horrible. Very nasty people, the Malfoys, aren’t they?” Mrs. Laurry looked very different now. She was leaning slightly in towards Draco, as though they were two old friends gossiping about the latest celebrity romance.

“Oh yes…very nasty,” Draco replied coolly. He took a step back. “I suppose I should leave now.”

“Oh yes, of course.” She straightened her back, but looked strangely put-out. “Here, take this-“ She stuffed a hand down one of the many pockets of her coat and rummaged around. “Here, somewhere- urgh, here it is.”

Draco stared disgustedly at the crumb covered slip of paper held in her hand.

Noticing his appalled stare, Mrs. Laurry sheepishly dusted the paper on her coat. “It has our address on it; I always keep one handy for my clients- I do a bit of babysitting business you know. I don’t know if Roger told you, but I do love children…” A vague smile drifted onto her face. “Now where was I? Oh yes, anyhow, in case you need anything, feel free to owl Roger. We’d be glad to help.”

“Er-alright,” Draco said dispassionately. He quickly snatched the piece of paper from her hand and stuffed it in his cloak.

“Well, goodbye, Dennis.” Without warning, she grabbed Draco and pulled him into a strangling hug.

Draco immediately stiffened and subtly struggled out of her embrace. Now, his cheeks were visibly blushing. “Goodbye, then,” he said quickly. Turning around, he swiftly began to march towards the iron gates. He turned around, thinking he ought to have at least waved, but Mrs. Laurry was already gone.

As his father was rather strict concerning his privacy, it was a fair distance from where Mrs. Laurry and Draco had Apparated to the front gates. As he walked on, he saw several peacocks gracefully strutting around the grassy lawn behind the gate, majestically displaying their colorful plumage. Draco smirked as he saw one topple flat onto its face, sliding on the wet grass. Still grimacing, he reached the kissing gates.

The gates were old structures, made of wrought iron and embellished with luxurious carvings. It was one of Draco’s few treasured items in life. He saw the coldness and dignity of the gate to mirror his own personality. Tapping the end of his wand to the metal of the gate, he quickly muttered the Malfoy family motto (‘tojours pur’). The gates swung open, causing the peackocks to scurry to safety. Draco, smirking once more, walked in onto the gravel path that led towards the manor.

He soon reached the wodden folding doors of the manor and knocked using the steel snake-shaped handle that hung near the eyehole. Draco frowned slightly as he heard tense muttering coming from behind the doors.

The doors swung open, revealing Draco’s mother looking worried and flustered; not at all like her usual poised self. Her long blonde was messily held together with an emerald clip while her face appeared gaunt and tired. She wore a green silk robe and her wand was warily held by her ring adorned hand.

“Draco!” she shrieked as she pulled him inside by the front of his robes. She quickly returned her wand to her pocket and stroked his hair. “Where in the world have you been? Bella didn’t know-”

Draco narrowed his eyes. “Of course she knew. She was at the meeting.”

Narcissa froze, her lips set in a straight line. “Bella!” she yelled viciously into the hallway behind her. “Bella, come this instance!” She pulled Draco into the foyer and set him onto a maroon love seat. Pointing her wand at the fireplace, she renewed the flame.

Draco sighed in relief as the warmth of the fireplace washed over him like a hot bath. Just as he was about to set his head on one of the fluffy pillows, he noticed the water tracks that he had made on the lavish carpet. Guiltily, he glanced at his mother, sure that she would have a fit.

Surprisingly, Narcissa smiled. “Do not worry,Draco. Lolly will take care of it. Lolly!”

Seconds later, a house-elf appeared out of thin air in the living room, shaking with fright.

“Y-yes, Miss?” the Lolly stuttered. She nervously clutched her dirty robes as she rocked back and forth on her heels. Her large brown eyes caught sight of Draco and she courteously bowed.

“Lolly, clean this up. And bring Draco some new robes.”

Lolly’s shoulders fell and she loosened her grip on her filthy rag. She seemed to look considerably less tense. “Of course, Miss. Right away.” With a snap of her fingers, she Disapparated.

Narcissa sighed heavily as she leaned her head out of the archway that led into the foyer.

“Bella!” Narcissa barked. “Bella, there you are.” She drew her head back into the room, her eyes once again ablaze.

Draco’s aunt entered the foyer looking highly displeased. Though her clothes were dry and seemed newly pressed, her hair was now formed of tight frizzy ringlets as opposed to her usual sleek black mane.

“Got caught in the rain, Aunt Bella?” Draco sneered.

Bella’s lip curled in annoyance, but she refrained from retorting. “How nice of you to join us, Draco,” she spat.

“How nice? How nice of him?” Narcissa shreiked hysterically. Her icy eyes were now bulging as she furiously yelled at her sister. “You said you had no idea…said the last you saw of him was when the Dark Lord requested to speak to him alone.”

“He did!” Bellatrix yelled in reply.

“He also said that he wasn’t going to kill me,” Draco quickly interjected. “Unless you had suddenly gone deaf, Aunt Bella, I see no reason as to why you failed to hear that.”

“You…you dare speak to me like that! You were as good as dead. After Lucius’ failure last year, the chances of the Dark Lord giving you this ‘special’ task...proposterous. The Dark Lord is not so foolish to place his interests in a family that clearly posesses no true loyalty to the cause.”

Narcissa opened her mouth to interrupt, but Draco was faster.

“Why would the Dark Lord hide his descision to kill me, then? Are you really so overconfident that you think he wouldn’t want to look crass infront of his ‘most loyal servant’?”

“I was acting in the best interests of Narcissa! Rather than give her false hope, I prepared her for the likely outcome. Even more, you were gone so long. Was I honestly supposed to tell your mother that you were merely having a nice long chat over a cup of tea with the Dark Lord?”

“The only reason that I was gone so long was that you had forgotten to come back,” Draco hissed in reply. “I’m not of age, remember? I can’t Apparate. I had to walk out of that clearing into that Great Hangleton village and get a bloody Muggle lover to Apparate me back home.”

“The Dark Lord said for us to leave, and I thought-”

“Thought what? That he’d turn a tree stump into a lovely Portkey for me? Of course, the Dark Lord is just so worried about me getting wet and dying of pneumonia.”

“Don’t you dare get cheeky with me you ungrateful-”

“ENOUGH!” cried Narcissa suddenly. With wisps of hair floating around her face and her face livid, she seemed quite hysterical. “That is enough.” She slowly closed her eyes and brought her hand to her forehead as she massaged her temples. “I’ve heard enough. Draco- what did the Dark Lord want?”

“Cissy, the Dark Lord’s orders are to be kept within the Death Eater ring,” interrupted Bella.

“He is my son,” said Narcissa dangerously. “Besides, surely the Dark Lord does not expect a mere boy to complete this task on his own.”

“I’m to do it alone, Mother,” Draco said, feeling annoyed. Did they all feel the constant urge to remind him of his own age?

“What is ‘it’, Draco?” Narcissa asked quietly.

“Stop,” said Bella hurridley. She glanced menacingly at her nephew. “Draco, you are to only tell me. I repeat, orders are to be kept within the Death Eaters.’

“I am good as a Death Eater, Bella. First, I sacrificed my husband, and now my son…there should be no higher position in the Dark Lord’s eyes.” At this, Narcissa’s voice wavered. Draco could see her visibly attempting to surpress the tears that were now running down her cheeks.

Draco felt a foreign pang in his heart as he saw his mother’s tears and her distressed expression. Turning to Bella, he said coolly, “My mother is right. She is as good as any Death Eater. Besides, what the Dark Lord does not know will not hurt him.”

“The Dark Lord knows everything,” replied Bella shortly. She looked at Narcissa, but made no move to comfort her sister.

Draco ignored her and turned to his mother. “The Dark Lord wants me to kill Dumbledore.”

Bella gasped and Narcissa snapped her head up from her hands, her eyes wide and disbelieving.

Draco avoided their gazes and looked down at his knees. He felt his face grow hot as he sensed the eyes of both his mother and Aunt Bella focusing on his body.

After the silent pause lingered for what seemed to be a few hours, Bella sputtered, “Well that’s…impossible. For Merlin’s sake, you’re only-“

“Sixteen, yes I know,” Draco snapped. “Do you think that the Dark Lord has not realized that?”

“She’s right,” Narcissa said suddenly in a dazed voice. “It’s impossible. This is a punishment, because of Lucius. How dare he…the Dark Lord has no right…” She shook her head and laughed in a pitch that was very much not her own.

“Do not blame the Dark Lord,” Bella said forcefully. “Be thankful! Yes, the task is impossible. But better die serving the Dark Lord than by suffering his wrath!”

“I am not going to die,” Draco said loudly.

Both women ignored him and Narcissa pressed on. “Are you saying it is an honor for my son to die?” she asked shrilly.

“Narcissa, there are no other options.”

“Options! Of course there are options. We can run-“

“No,” said Draco suddenly. “We are not running away. Besides, the Dark Lord is sure to find us.”

“Then,” Narcissa began in a strained voice, “what do you propose we do, Draco? You, a mere boy of sixteen, and my son- what do you suggest we do?”

Draco paused.” I suppose I have no choice but to follow through.”

Satisfaction filled Bella’s eyes. “Excellent, Draco,” she said in a smug tone. “Your father will be pleased.” Her mouth shifted into a strange grimace which Draco could only interpret as her best attempt at a smile.

Draco did not return his aunt’s friendly gesture. He turned to his mother and looked at her tentatively.

“No,” Narcissa whispered. “I- I refuse.”

“We can’t, Mother.”

Narcissa bit her lip as she breathed shakily with her eyes closed. Her hands clutched the couch tightly, her knuckles turning a ghostly white. Her pale eyberows furrowed as she appeared to be deep in thought. Draco could almost see the gears whirring in her head.

Bella cleared her throat and said, “Well, I suppose there really isn’t anything else to say. I’m off.” She nodded at Draco and Narcissa, and walked towards the archway.

“Bella,” Narcissa said quickly. “Perhaps…perhaps we ought to visit Severus.”

Bella furrowed her eyebrows. “What for?”

“Just to discuss some things.”

“There’s nothing that Professor Snape can do,” said Draco immediately. “This is the Dark Lord we’re dealing with.”

“Yes, but Severus has always been a trusted advisor of the Dark Lord’s,” Narcissa said earnestly.

Bellatrix snorted. “Most trusted advisor, ha! Snape was never there during the Dark Lord’s fall. His loyalty only lies with Dumbledore…comfortably acting as Dumbledore’s pet while the rest of us are serving the Dark Lord.”

“If that was true, would you think that he’d still be walking, alive and healthy to this day?” Draco asked snidely.

“Draco is right,” said Narcissa. “The Dark Lord trusts him…no, needs him enough to keep him alive to this day. While he can not change the Dark Lord’s mind, of course, he still may be able to help.”

“How’s that?” Draco asked, confused.

“Oh, nothing.”

Draco surveyed his mother suspiciously as she darted her eyes, avoiding his gaze. Draco opened his mouth to continue interrogating her, but she suddenly summoned her cloak from the rack across the room.

“Yes, Bella. I think it is time to visit Severus.”

“Cissy, I don’t understand. What’s this-“

“I’ll explain it later.” Narcissa gave her sister a sharp look, to which Bella immediately fell grudgingly silent.

“Draco, when Lolly comes, make sure to change.” Narcissa draped the moleskin cloak over her shoulders.

“Yes, Mother.”

“Tell Lolly to leave supper out. I might be late.” She looked at Draco, smiling sadly, her eyes tired and worn. She grazed his chin with her hand, and Draco leaned into her palm.“Come, Bella,” she said.

Both women walked out of the foyer with their cloaks streaming behind them as Draco remained seated on the couch. He stared at the trickling flame as it flickered back and forth, feeling as though the thoughts in his head were swimming in a similar fashion. His aunt and mother were surely right…the Dark Lord’s task was impossible, even for the most capable of wizards. Dumbledore may be the greatest wizard alive, exempting the Dark Lord, and he, at only sixteen, was supposed to effeciently end his life. Draco’s stomach clenched as he was reminded of an even more sickening thought; he refused to believe that the Dark Lord had only chosen him for the task as a means to cruelly punish his father…no, he wouldn’t believe it…afterall, the Dark Lord had chosen him above all others. He’d been branded with the Dark Mark- the Dark Lord respected him.

Minutes trickled by as the fire began to simmer down. “Well, that’s that,” Draco quietly muttered to no one in particular. He reluctantly hoisted himself up from the chair when a sudden crack broke the silence. Draco yelped with surprise.

“Merlin, Lolly!”

Lolly’s eyes widened with fear. “I is- is sorry, Master Draco. I is not meaning to frighten you.”

“What is it then?” Draco snapped irritably.

“Master’s supper is ready, and his clothes is in his room.”

“I’ll be there soon. Make sure it doesn’t get cold. Leave Mother’s out as well.”

“Yes, of course, Master.” She bowed and Disapparated once more.

Draco returned his gaze to the fire. The flames were furiously thrashing around, beating at each other as they flashed a mixture of red, orange, and yellow. The crackling of the fire reminded Draco of his fifth Christmas, which had taken place in the very room in which he stood now. His mother’s warm arms had been embracing him from behind as he opened his first present of the evening. It was a broomstick, the flashiest of its time. A shiny handle and neat bristles completed the magical allure; it was more than what Draco could have hoped for. In his excitement, he had immediately mounted the room and proceeded to attempt to clumsily fly. Mistakenly, he had flown right into his father’s legs, knocking him over. Mr. Malfoy calmly and soundlesly took the new, beautiful broomstick, snapped it in two, and threw it amongst the burning embers of the fireplace. He turned to his wife and whispered, “He will never be good enough. Never.” He then proceeded to walk out of the room, all whislt ignoring Draco’s incoherent sobs coming from within the folds of Narcissa’s arms.

Draco swallowed and tried to surpress the bubble of rage that was beginning to form in his chest. He extinguished the fire and walked out of the foyer towards the manor’s stairs, all while ignoring the single tear that trailed down his cheek.