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Chapter Two - Letters And Whispers Ten years later, Narcissa Malfoy was thinking about that exact same night as she sat at the long dining room table, her husband sat opposite to her. Lucius looked up from his morning newspaper - the Daily Prophet - and, upon noticing the expression on his wife's face, he spoke up. 'You look troubled, my dear. What is the matter?' he asked, folding the paper in half and placing it neatly upon the table as he looked at his wife in mild concern. 'Oh, nothing,' she replied lightly, attempting to banish the worried expression that had clearly crossed her face while she had been deep in thought. Lucius frowned a little, clearly disbelieving, but he said nothing more on the subject and instead settled back into his chair, as Narcissa tried to direct her thoughts elsewhere as she looked around her surroundings. The Malfoy's weren't poor, that much was clear. In fact, they had enough money for them all to live an odinary, healthy life at least seven times over. Add this to the fact that the Malfoy's were a very proud family who liked to show off, and you find yourself with a very large manor, filled to the brim with all sorts of expensive and elaborate items. The large dining room in which they were sat stretched thirty feet wide, and eighty long, with a polished dark walnut flooring. The table was almost as long as the room and mahogany, it's surface as sleekly polished as the floor. The chairs in which Narcissa and Lucius sat were high backed and in elaborately carved oak, with a plump emerald cushion on each one, all of them trimmed with satin and velvet. Any onlooker would have thought the Malfoy manor was a hotel with just how many of these exquisite seats the dining table had, not to mention it's many other rooms, all with equally as much space and items to accomodate around a hundred people. Finally, the black marble hearth in the center of one of the long walls contained a roaring fire which heated the room at just the right temperature. Narcissa sighed contentedly. She had a beautiful house, a rich husband who she was in love with - which was in fact very important, considering just how many middle-aged couples would be hitting a marriage crisis around their age. And then her only son, and the young girl they had brought up as their own, both slept contentedly upstairs in their bedrooms. Just when Narcissa felt that she couldn’t be any happier, two tawny brown owls flew through the Malfoy's diamond paned windows, and she positively beamed. See, these owls weren't just any old owls. They were holding the letters that would tell the two eleven year-old children upstairs that they would be going to Hogwarts, the best Witchcraft and Wizardry School in the entire country. Narcissa turned to the house elf next to her which was serving her coffee into a delicate bone china cup. Against expectations, this elf was not dressed in elaborate finery like the rest of the household. Instead, he was wearing nothing but a tattered and scrawny old pillowcase, which once belonged to Draco before he had once violently thrown up upon it as a six month-old baby. This elf was named Dobby, and he was a house elf, which explained his poor excuse for clothing. A house elf is the equivalent of a slave, and for those who know about house elves, will also know that house elves are not to be given clothing. For clothing to a house elf is a sign of freedom, and should you ever make the mistake of giving a house elf clothing - even if it is merely a sock - they will be free forever, and you can no longer do anything in your power to stop it. 'Dobby, fetch Draco and Ridley downstairs, they have post,' Narcissa said abruptly. Dobby nodded immediately in response and put down the coffee pot and cup he had been holding. He made it hover over to where Narcissa sat, gave her a low bow and disappeared with a loud CRACK, where he would then appear a few moments later in each of the children's bedrooms to rouse them and give them the news that they were to go downstairs. Narcissa smiled happily and looked back at her husband, who had resumed reading his newspaper. He looked up a little and gave her a returning smile, before looking back down once more as Narcissa began to remove the envelopes from the legs of the owls. Just as Narcissa had finished untying the yellowed envelopes, Ridley came through the heavy oak door into the dining room first, her usually long and silky chestnut hair now lay lank and greasy at her elbows, and her skin was pallid and greasy. She hadn’t slept properly for a week since the nightmares had begun. But still, she had a smile on her face which was definitely an improvement. 'Is it from Hogwarts? What does it say? When do we go? We are going right? Oh I can’t wait!' Ridley’s eyes were shining with happiness as she practically skipped into the room. Narcissa smiled warmly as Ridley sat down at the long table beside her and grabbed her letter. Draco came into the dining room a few minutes later, walking with his usual swagger. He pretended not to notice he had been called down and simply sat at the long table, absentmindedly stroking his white-blond hair with an expression of utter indifference. 'Draco, you have post,' said Lucius curtly, holding out the envelope to his son. 'Oh, yeah, right.' Draco took the envelope from his father, slightly pink in the cheeks and began to open it. He scanned the first sheet and casually tossed it to the side, not really caring what it was about and went on to the sheet with all the things they needed before they went to Hogwarts. He came to the last part of the sheet and his ever so slowly expanding smile dropped a few millimetres. He looked up at his father, seething, as if to say whatever he had read was Lucius' fault. Draco flung the letter aside and sat with his arms folded, not looking at anyone. 'What is it now Draco?' said his father, sighing wearily. Draco swung round in his chair to face him. 'It says we can’t bring brooms to school,' he said scornfully. He huffed and turned round to Ridley who, on the other hand, was absolutely ecstatic at the prospect of just going to Hogwarts. She had torn her letter open feverishly at the opposite side of the table, and was now scanning the paper, eyes wide and shining. 'Narcissa, please can we go to Diagon Alley tomorrow to get our stuff?' asked Ridley hopefully, her eyes still darting across the paper. Narcissa frowned and pursed her lips. 'Well...' she began carefully. 'I suppose there isn’t any harm in going tomorrow, but...’ She paused, trying to find the best way of getting the message through, 'But... I don’t want to walk round with a girl who looks like she’s spent the holidays with those muggle lovers you adore. Because, after all, we do have our pride to maintain,' said Narcissa, finishing her sentence proudly. By "muggle lovers", Narcissa had been referring to another wizarding family known as the Weasleys. The Weasleys were a very kind family, much unlike the Malfoys. But that wasn't the only thing that seperated the two. The Weasleys were also very proud to say that they were perfectly happy to associate with non-magical people, who were known to the wizarding world as muggles. You see, unfortunate as it is, some witches and wizards didn't like to associate themselves with those sorts of people. These witches and wizards called themselves pure-bloods, which meant that every single one of their descendants had been witches and wizards. These so-called pure-bloods seemed to think it was taboo to even talk to a non-magical person, and the idea of being friends with one, or even mating with one, was an idea they despised very much indeed. The Malfoys were these type of people. Ridley however, wasn't. As a matter of fact, she too was willing to associate with muggles (although she would never have the Malfoy's find out), and she was especially close friends with the Weasley family. She would even go as far to say that the Weasleys were more of a family than the Malfoy's were. But the fact Ridley even dared to speak to this family, was something that caused the Malfoy's great distate. At a moment like this, Ridley would have objected to Narcissa's statement implying that the Weasley's appearance was that they didn't look after themselves, but not wanting a disagreement at this time on a morning, she instead picked up a large spoon from the table and peered at her reflection in the back of it. 'I don’t look that bad, do I?' When Ridley didn’t get a reply, she looked down at her hands, being thankful that her fringe covered up the fact that her eyes were filling with tears. Ridley was a very sensitive person, and didn't like comments to be made about her appearance. Draco knew this method of using her fringe to hide her eyes very well, as Ridley used it often on him when they came to their own disagreements. It had been used more often than not recently, as Ridley kept having mysterious mood swings. Draco didn’t want anyone else to notice that Ridley was crying, and so he took the liberty to hold her slender hand in his own and, ignoring his parents curious stares, he began to lead her upstairs. 'I’ll, uh, go get Dobby to run you a bath shall I?' said Draco, trying to be helpful as they reached the hallway and began to ascend the black marble staircase. He didn’t particularly like it when Ridley cried, as it left a sinking feeling at the pit of his stomach, and he felt somewhat helpless. What didn’t help him was the fact that Ridley had been crying a lot recently, too. Ridley just shrugged in response, and Draco sighed a little. He didn’t know what to say after this, as he wasn’t all that used to comforting people. As a matter of fact, it was normally people who wanted comforting after they’d spoken to him. To be honest, he didn’t really see himself as a caring person, more of a spiteful and malicious one. But this was different; he had a special bond with Ridley that made her feel like a sister to him. After all, she had lived with him for nearly her whole life already. They both ascended the rest of the stairs in silence, and when they came to the top, Ridley turned to Draco. 'What’s wrong with me Draco? I feel so depressed, all because I've been having these stupid nightmares about my father, and-' 'What?!' Draco stared disbelievingly. Ridley gasped and her hand shot straight to her mouth. She hadn’t meant to tell Draco what her nightmares were about. She had only confided in Narcissa, with the promise that she wouldn’t tell a soul. If anyone else found out that she was scared of her own father - the Dark Lord, of all people, she would most likely be cast out and abandoned by everyone in the family, not to mention all their friends. Ridley backed away slowly to her door, not knowing what to say next. She needed to distract him, and fast. Racking her brains for an idea, she finally thought of something. Then, she stopped as if contemplating what to do next, before walking forwards and speaking to Draco in barely more than a whisper. 'Thank you.' She lightly kissed Draco on the cheek, and backed away again towards the ebony door that led to her bedroom. When she had closed it behind her, Draco touched the place where she had kissed him, and a small grin tugged at the corners of his lips. He never thought he would have a chance of her liking him in a million years, but now... Draco was teetering to follow her to find out if she would tell him anything else about her father, but eventually, he decided against it. And with that, he turned swiftly on his heel, and went back downstairs to where his mother and father were waiting with curiosity. One thing was for sure, he was keeping the last part between him and Ridley. And he hoped to God something like that wasn't just a one-off. |
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