Fic: Shadowed Life 3/? (HP, rated FRT)
Jan. 7th, 2007 07:46 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bookishwenchTold you I'd get the next bit out fairly soon.
Author: Meltha
Rating: FRT at this point, but likely to rise
Feedback: Yes, thank you. [email protected]
Spoilers: Currently, Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone. Again, this will rise.
Distribution: The Blackberry Patch and Fanfiction.net. If you’re interested, please let me know.
Summary: Draco’s journey to Hogwarts will being soon, but first he is confronted with a few shocking facts.
Disclaimer: All characters are created by J. K. Rowling, a wonderful writer whose works I greatly enjoy. I have borrowed them for a completely profit-free flight of fancy. Kindly do not sue me, please, as I am terrified of you. Thank you.
To chapter 1
To chapter 2
Part 3: Preparations
A week passed in relative quiet and the Malfoy manor. Narcissa remained busy with a variety of social engagements, so Draco was left to his own devices. His broomstick became his almost constant companion. He spent his days zooming over the spacious grounds of the estate, practicing abrupt stops and switches in direction, performing aerial acrobatics as though he could somehow leave the rest of the world behind if he could just go fast enough.
Once he pointed the tip of the broomstick directly at the sky, rising as close to vertically as he could, putting distance between himself and the earth below until even his highly expensive model couldn’t take the pressure anymore and began to vibrate dangerously. He looked behind him and saw the manor a tiny speck beneath him. Gritting his teeth in a particularly ferocious grin, he swung the handle hard to the right, sending the broomstick hurtling back towards the earth at a speed and angle that didn’t even seem possible. The wind whistled through his blond hair, and he shut his eyes, lifted his hands off the handle, and clung the the broom with only his knees and crossed ankles. For one moment he felt almost entirely free, but then he realized that the ground was coming towards him rather faster than he had counted on, and he was forced to pull up quickly. As it was, he barely skimmed the well-manicured lawn of the formal gardens with his trainers. Smiling smugly, he landed beside the kitchen door and went back inside.
“Sir, that appeared most dangerous,” said a high voice coming from behind one of the tall cabinets.
“That’s because it was, Dobby,” Draco said as he sat at a counter near the sink, propping his broom carefully in a corner before he did so.
“But, sir, why would you do something that might cause you harm? Mistress would be greatly grieved if anything happened to you,” Dobby said as he came into view, his arms filled with pots to be scrubbed from lunch.
“I suppose so, but it just felt so good to be free for a second,” Draco said, watching as the house-elf nearly toppled over from the column of cookware he was carrying. “You know what I mean?”
“No,” Dobby said, putting the dishes into the sink carefully, “Dobby does not know what it is like to be free.”
“I suppose you wouldn’t at that,” Draco agreed, though he didn’t sound terribly bothered by it. “I’m starved.”
“Dobby will fix sir a toasted cheese sandwich right away,” the elf replied, hurrying off in a way that suggested he was afraid what might happen if he didn’t make the food appear immediately.
Draco remained seated by the sink, staring listlessly out the window at the grounds beyond. Sunset was now painting the smooth lawn with an orange light, the shadows from the countless statues that dotted the estate lengthening and looking like strange runes whose meaning he didn’t know yet. Darkness was falling, he thought. He spared a moment to think about Dumbledore’s appeal from the previous week. The geezer’s magic had proved to be very good indeed. Draco had attempted telling one of the house elves about what had happened but found himself unable to say anything at all. He even tried writing down what Dumbledore had said and hadn’t succeeded in so much as touching the paper. It was aggravating, but impressive.
In less time than even Draco expected, Dobby stood before him with a still-steaming cheese sandwich, the bread grilled to exactly the degree of crustiness he preferred and the cheese neither too solid nor so hot it would burn. It smelled divine. Draco grabbed it hungrily and downed it in four bites.
“Is master still hungry? Would he like more?” Dobby asked immediately.
“No,” Draco said off-handedly as he left, taking his broomstick with him. Dobby was an uncommonly good cook, he though. He hoped Hogwarts would have servants who were equally talented at catering to his every whim.
“Sir? Your mother has also stated that she wishes to speak with you,” Dobby called after his retreating form.
Draco waved his hand in acknowledgement that he had heard and quickly walked the corridors to his parents’ rooms. They were naturally much larger than his own room, and while green, silver, black and gray were the dominant colors of the entire house, his mother’s study used somewhat more pastel shades than were found elsewhere. He knocked on the closed door, and she responded with a quiet “Enter.”
“You wished to see me, Mother?” Draco asked as he entered.
“Yes, Draco,” she said, drawing her chair back from her desk with a small sigh. “You know that your schoolbooks and other supplies have already been sent to Hogwarts and will be waiting in your room for your arrival.”
“Yes, Mother,” he said. “Are we sure the house elves have gotten the list correct?”
“If they have not, I will tend to the problem,” she said, and Draco didn’t envy any servant who might have made a mistake. “However, the matter of your school robes needs to be attended to. Madam Malkin’s would be the appropriate shop for the occasion. I’ll not have my son wandering the halls of Hogwarts in ill-fitting, off-the-rack robes. We’ll go to Diagon Alley tomorrow morning.”
“Thank you. I will look forward to it,” Draco said, then bowed and turned to leave.
“Draco, wait,” his mother called, and he quickly faced her again. “Are you… I realize that some of your father’s announcements at dinner last week were rather startling.”
Silently, Draco thought this was the understatement of the year, but aloud he only said, “A bit.”
“Please try not to concern yourself too much,” she said. “Goyle and Crabbe aren’t the only friends you are permitted to make, and as to Pansy Parkinson, remember that you don’t need to worry about marriage until after you graduate from Hogwarts, which is years away. Going off to school for the first time is quite enough to deal with for now.”
Draco nodded in agreement.
“I’m sure you’ll do just fine your first year,” she said firmly. “You may go now. I shall see you in the morning.”
“Thank you, Mother. Goodnight,” he said, then closed the door.
Draco went to bed early that night, but he didn’t sleep well. Tomorrow he would be in Diagon Alley. While he had been trotted out for brief appearances at the homes of some of the most important witches and wizards in the country, he’d never actually gone to Diagon Alley before. It was something almost normal, and for him that was a novelty. He reasoned that there would be any number of other students there preparing to go to Hogwarts, and he might actually have the chance to meet some of them. Although he didn’t like to admit it, he was nervous at the thought of speaking with them. Appearing ridiculous was not an option.
The next morning Draco was out of bed and dressed by 6:00. Butterflies were trembling in his stomach, but he was still hungry. Quietly, he crept down the stairs and snuck into the kitchens, knowing at least a few house elves would be up and preparing for their daily work.
“Is there anything to eat?” he asked as he entered.
“We is sorry, sir, but the kettle is only just put on,” said one of the elves, Stuffy. He looked rather bleary. “We can get you something soon, though.”
“Toast, strawberry jam, bacon, fried tomatoes, and tea,” he said, then turned on his heel to wait in the dining room.
Empty dining rooms always seem to have a sense of gloom about them. Maybe it’s because every piece of furniture in the room is turned so it faces other people, and with no one present their absense is felt even more accutely. Draco sat in his customary chair and drummed his fingers on the table, feeling progressively more ill at ease. It seemed to take forever for the elves to bring out his requested meal, and when they did, his mother still had not appeared at the table. Already in a bad temper because he loathed eating alone, Draco angrily attacked his breakfast, throwing the silverware onto the plate when he was done and getting up in a huff.
“Have you seen my mother this morning?” he asked another house elf, Stipple, as he strode back towards the stairs.
“Yes, sir,” she responded quickly. “She has been in the garden since before sun up.”
“She has? Why didn’t anyone tell me?” he said, stomping in the direction of the door and leaving before the elf could reply.
“Mother!” he yelled loudly as he walked outside and scanned the grounds quickly.
At the far end of the lily pond he could just make out her shape sitting at a table and staring into the distance. She turned at the sound of his voice and waved towards him. He lightly jogged the distance and realized that she was already dressed for the day and had an empty plate in front of her.
“Good morning,” she said with a yawn.
“Didn’t you sleep well?” he asked.
“I slept adequately. I simply don’t sleep as soundly when your father is away,” she explained as she stood and began walking in her characteristic glide back towards the mansion. “I needed fresh air for clear thoughts.”
Draco looked at his mother closely.
“Is there anything the matter, Mother?” he asked, a note of concern in his voice.
She glanced at him from the corner of her eye and sighed briefly.
“I may be a Malfoy, but I am also a mother sending her only child off for several months in just a few days time. I’m entitled to a little consternation, I should say,” she said, not meeting his gaze. “Things are going to change dramatically here.”
“I suppose so,” he agreed, rather stunned by her unusually frank confession.
“Are you quite ready for our shopping excursion?” she asked, and her tone suggested the topic should be dropped.
“Yes, Mother,” he said. “We’ll be using floo powder?”
“You will be,” she said, “but I simply can’t abide the soot. I shall apparate and meet you there. Is that understood?”
Draco nodded once succinctly.
On to part 4
Author: Meltha
Rating: FRT at this point, but likely to rise
Feedback: Yes, thank you. [email protected]
Spoilers: Currently, Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone. Again, this will rise.
Distribution: The Blackberry Patch and Fanfiction.net. If you’re interested, please let me know.
Summary: Draco’s journey to Hogwarts will being soon, but first he is confronted with a few shocking facts.
Disclaimer: All characters are created by J. K. Rowling, a wonderful writer whose works I greatly enjoy. I have borrowed them for a completely profit-free flight of fancy. Kindly do not sue me, please, as I am terrified of you. Thank you.
To chapter 1
To chapter 2
Part 3: Preparations
A week passed in relative quiet and the Malfoy manor. Narcissa remained busy with a variety of social engagements, so Draco was left to his own devices. His broomstick became his almost constant companion. He spent his days zooming over the spacious grounds of the estate, practicing abrupt stops and switches in direction, performing aerial acrobatics as though he could somehow leave the rest of the world behind if he could just go fast enough.
Once he pointed the tip of the broomstick directly at the sky, rising as close to vertically as he could, putting distance between himself and the earth below until even his highly expensive model couldn’t take the pressure anymore and began to vibrate dangerously. He looked behind him and saw the manor a tiny speck beneath him. Gritting his teeth in a particularly ferocious grin, he swung the handle hard to the right, sending the broomstick hurtling back towards the earth at a speed and angle that didn’t even seem possible. The wind whistled through his blond hair, and he shut his eyes, lifted his hands off the handle, and clung the the broom with only his knees and crossed ankles. For one moment he felt almost entirely free, but then he realized that the ground was coming towards him rather faster than he had counted on, and he was forced to pull up quickly. As it was, he barely skimmed the well-manicured lawn of the formal gardens with his trainers. Smiling smugly, he landed beside the kitchen door and went back inside.
“Sir, that appeared most dangerous,” said a high voice coming from behind one of the tall cabinets.
“That’s because it was, Dobby,” Draco said as he sat at a counter near the sink, propping his broom carefully in a corner before he did so.
“But, sir, why would you do something that might cause you harm? Mistress would be greatly grieved if anything happened to you,” Dobby said as he came into view, his arms filled with pots to be scrubbed from lunch.
“I suppose so, but it just felt so good to be free for a second,” Draco said, watching as the house-elf nearly toppled over from the column of cookware he was carrying. “You know what I mean?”
“No,” Dobby said, putting the dishes into the sink carefully, “Dobby does not know what it is like to be free.”
“I suppose you wouldn’t at that,” Draco agreed, though he didn’t sound terribly bothered by it. “I’m starved.”
“Dobby will fix sir a toasted cheese sandwich right away,” the elf replied, hurrying off in a way that suggested he was afraid what might happen if he didn’t make the food appear immediately.
Draco remained seated by the sink, staring listlessly out the window at the grounds beyond. Sunset was now painting the smooth lawn with an orange light, the shadows from the countless statues that dotted the estate lengthening and looking like strange runes whose meaning he didn’t know yet. Darkness was falling, he thought. He spared a moment to think about Dumbledore’s appeal from the previous week. The geezer’s magic had proved to be very good indeed. Draco had attempted telling one of the house elves about what had happened but found himself unable to say anything at all. He even tried writing down what Dumbledore had said and hadn’t succeeded in so much as touching the paper. It was aggravating, but impressive.
In less time than even Draco expected, Dobby stood before him with a still-steaming cheese sandwich, the bread grilled to exactly the degree of crustiness he preferred and the cheese neither too solid nor so hot it would burn. It smelled divine. Draco grabbed it hungrily and downed it in four bites.
“Is master still hungry? Would he like more?” Dobby asked immediately.
“No,” Draco said off-handedly as he left, taking his broomstick with him. Dobby was an uncommonly good cook, he though. He hoped Hogwarts would have servants who were equally talented at catering to his every whim.
“Sir? Your mother has also stated that she wishes to speak with you,” Dobby called after his retreating form.
Draco waved his hand in acknowledgement that he had heard and quickly walked the corridors to his parents’ rooms. They were naturally much larger than his own room, and while green, silver, black and gray were the dominant colors of the entire house, his mother’s study used somewhat more pastel shades than were found elsewhere. He knocked on the closed door, and she responded with a quiet “Enter.”
“You wished to see me, Mother?” Draco asked as he entered.
“Yes, Draco,” she said, drawing her chair back from her desk with a small sigh. “You know that your schoolbooks and other supplies have already been sent to Hogwarts and will be waiting in your room for your arrival.”
“Yes, Mother,” he said. “Are we sure the house elves have gotten the list correct?”
“If they have not, I will tend to the problem,” she said, and Draco didn’t envy any servant who might have made a mistake. “However, the matter of your school robes needs to be attended to. Madam Malkin’s would be the appropriate shop for the occasion. I’ll not have my son wandering the halls of Hogwarts in ill-fitting, off-the-rack robes. We’ll go to Diagon Alley tomorrow morning.”
“Thank you. I will look forward to it,” Draco said, then bowed and turned to leave.
“Draco, wait,” his mother called, and he quickly faced her again. “Are you… I realize that some of your father’s announcements at dinner last week were rather startling.”
Silently, Draco thought this was the understatement of the year, but aloud he only said, “A bit.”
“Please try not to concern yourself too much,” she said. “Goyle and Crabbe aren’t the only friends you are permitted to make, and as to Pansy Parkinson, remember that you don’t need to worry about marriage until after you graduate from Hogwarts, which is years away. Going off to school for the first time is quite enough to deal with for now.”
Draco nodded in agreement.
“I’m sure you’ll do just fine your first year,” she said firmly. “You may go now. I shall see you in the morning.”
“Thank you, Mother. Goodnight,” he said, then closed the door.
Draco went to bed early that night, but he didn’t sleep well. Tomorrow he would be in Diagon Alley. While he had been trotted out for brief appearances at the homes of some of the most important witches and wizards in the country, he’d never actually gone to Diagon Alley before. It was something almost normal, and for him that was a novelty. He reasoned that there would be any number of other students there preparing to go to Hogwarts, and he might actually have the chance to meet some of them. Although he didn’t like to admit it, he was nervous at the thought of speaking with them. Appearing ridiculous was not an option.
The next morning Draco was out of bed and dressed by 6:00. Butterflies were trembling in his stomach, but he was still hungry. Quietly, he crept down the stairs and snuck into the kitchens, knowing at least a few house elves would be up and preparing for their daily work.
“Is there anything to eat?” he asked as he entered.
“We is sorry, sir, but the kettle is only just put on,” said one of the elves, Stuffy. He looked rather bleary. “We can get you something soon, though.”
“Toast, strawberry jam, bacon, fried tomatoes, and tea,” he said, then turned on his heel to wait in the dining room.
Empty dining rooms always seem to have a sense of gloom about them. Maybe it’s because every piece of furniture in the room is turned so it faces other people, and with no one present their absense is felt even more accutely. Draco sat in his customary chair and drummed his fingers on the table, feeling progressively more ill at ease. It seemed to take forever for the elves to bring out his requested meal, and when they did, his mother still had not appeared at the table. Already in a bad temper because he loathed eating alone, Draco angrily attacked his breakfast, throwing the silverware onto the plate when he was done and getting up in a huff.
“Have you seen my mother this morning?” he asked another house elf, Stipple, as he strode back towards the stairs.
“Yes, sir,” she responded quickly. “She has been in the garden since before sun up.”
“She has? Why didn’t anyone tell me?” he said, stomping in the direction of the door and leaving before the elf could reply.
“Mother!” he yelled loudly as he walked outside and scanned the grounds quickly.
At the far end of the lily pond he could just make out her shape sitting at a table and staring into the distance. She turned at the sound of his voice and waved towards him. He lightly jogged the distance and realized that she was already dressed for the day and had an empty plate in front of her.
“Good morning,” she said with a yawn.
“Didn’t you sleep well?” he asked.
“I slept adequately. I simply don’t sleep as soundly when your father is away,” she explained as she stood and began walking in her characteristic glide back towards the mansion. “I needed fresh air for clear thoughts.”
Draco looked at his mother closely.
“Is there anything the matter, Mother?” he asked, a note of concern in his voice.
She glanced at him from the corner of her eye and sighed briefly.
“I may be a Malfoy, but I am also a mother sending her only child off for several months in just a few days time. I’m entitled to a little consternation, I should say,” she said, not meeting his gaze. “Things are going to change dramatically here.”
“I suppose so,” he agreed, rather stunned by her unusually frank confession.
“Are you quite ready for our shopping excursion?” she asked, and her tone suggested the topic should be dropped.
“Yes, Mother,” he said. “We’ll be using floo powder?”
“You will be,” she said, “but I simply can’t abide the soot. I shall apparate and meet you there. Is that understood?”
Draco nodded once succinctly.
On to part 4
