Michaela's Cousin

Chapter One: Draco's Birthday Surprises

Draco was standing in front of his ornately carved wardrobe, scowling, trying to choose something to wear to the party tonight.

His birthday had been in early June. He had celebrated it with the other Slytherins and had got roaring drunk. He had had a great time. But now that he was home for the summer holidays, his mother was insisting that he had a "proper" birthday party and had owled invitations to friends and family. His protests that he wasn't a child anymore and didn't want a birthday party had fallen on deaf ears.

As Draco dug through the voluminous tide of robes, his mood grew worse and worse.

I don't even want this stupid party! God, she's going to invite a bunch of her and Father's friends and I'll be forced to be nice all night long. All they'll want to talk about is the Dark Lord this, and the Dark Lord that. You'd think they had nothing else going on in their lives. I get SO sick of hearing about him. I'd rather hear about a well played Quidditch match, or who's shagging who. Well, maybe I'll get lucky and none of their friends will show...since the family is in the Dark Lord's bad books for Father's mess up at the ministry.

Draco picked a set of dress robes and shut the wardrobe door. He slid them on, and then admired himself in the mirror. The robes were of the finest imported silk, so finely woven that the fabric shimmered and shined as if Draco were wearing an undulating body of water.

As he stood in front of his full-length mirror, combing his hair, his thoughts grew more morose.

I wish Father could be here. I really miss him. I know Mother does too. It's just not the same around here without him. This is all Potter's fault. If he hadn't shown up at the Ministry with his faithful band of outcasts, know-it-alls and Weasleys, Father would have completed the task assigned to him. He'd be here with me - with us - right now, instead of locked away in that horrible prison.

Draco's reverie was broken by a tiny house-elf's voice.

"Master Draco, sir, tis time for your party, sir," said Tweebly, bowing low to the ground.

Draco threw one of his expensive handmade shoes at the elf's head, and she went scurrying out the door at top speed.

Well, might as well go make the best of it. I can't let Mother see how down I am. I guess right now we could both use some cheering up.

With a final glance in the mirror, Draco walked out of the room and down the finely carved marble staircase, a large smile firmly in place. Not for his guests, but for his mother. Seeing him happy would make her happy, and that's what he wished for most.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

As Draco entered the dining room, he looked around in amazement.

The house-elves had really outdone themselves. Hundreds of candles lit the room, their glow adding a touch of magic to the occasion. Everywhere he looked, there were clear crystal globes floating through the air. Inside each globe were moving images of him. Some of the globes contained wizarding clips of him as a baby, some when he was just beginning to walk. Others showed when he'd first learned to fly, and when he'd beaten Gryffindor at Quidditch. Every important moment of his life had been captured, and was now being replayed in the globes.

He had barely passed the door when he felt two arms flung around his neck. Someone was hugging him tightly. Looking down, he saw a familiar blonde head. The hair, usually so windblown and bushy, was now lying sleekly against the head in a tight little chignon.

He broke the embrace then signed happily, "Michaela! I'm glad you're here. I didn't think your school had let out for the summer holidays yet."

"I left school a few days early so that I could be here. I didn't want to miss it!" Michaela signed in turn, eyes shining with joy.

Draco turned to see what other guests had arrived. He could see his Aunt Bellatrix sitting regally in one of the chairs near the fire, talking to one of his father's fellow Death Eaters.

A few other people were standing around, talking and laughing. Just as he had suspected, most of his parents' friends had stayed away. Whether it was because Lucius was no longer a power to be reckoned with, or because they feared the Dark Lord's wrath would come down upon their heads if found to be associating with people that had failed him, he didn't know or care. He was just glad that he would be spared having to act nicely to people who bored him. It would have made for a very tiresome evening.

Crabbe and Goyle came lumbering over from where they had been standing near the table, eyeing the cake.

"Happy Birthday, Draco," Goyle said, his stomach rumbling. "When are we going to have some cake?"

For the first time in his life, Draco was actually happy to see Crabbe and Goyle. It was comforting to know that no matter what happened, they would still be there. Their solidity and size was familiar and comforting. He felt glad for his mother also; she hadn't been completely deserted by her friends at this low point in her life.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The dining room doors were pushed open, and two house-elves entered bearing a mountainous cake on a silver platter. The cake was so hefty the house-elves' knees were almost buckling from the weight. They slowly made their way towards the table, and, with much heaving and grunting, deposited their heavy load onto the table. Bowing low to the ground, they happily scurried out of the room.

Draco laughed in delight when he saw the cake. The Hogwarts Quidditch pitch was laid out in butter cream frosting. The house-elves had even included stands for the Quidditch supporters. Flying above the cake were two tiny marzipan figures, one dressed in Slytherin green and one in Gryffindor scarlet. They were flying quickly around the cake, trying to catch an almost microscopic Snitch. As he watched, the Slytherin figure began viciously bumping into the Gryffindor figure, trying to make it fall off its broom. The Gryffindor figure fought valiantly to stay astride, but finally the Slytherin figure landed a solid kick to the back end of its opponent's broom, sending the tiny scarlet clad figure crashing down into the Quidditch pitch below. The pitch, being made of icing, was quite slippery. The tiny figure landed on the icing, then, unable to stop, slid down the side and ended on the table, right in front of Draco. Draco picked the small figure up and said, "Take that, Harry Potter!" And with one sharp bite, decapitated it.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Darkness had fallen some hours ago. Most of his guests had already left. Michaela was staying over and was already ensconced in one of the many guest bedrooms.

Draco was still in the dining room, looking over the many presents he had received.

He had got a cool set of mood robes. The colour of the robes changed according to the mood of its wearer. Black for anger, blue for calm, yellow for happiness and so on.

His mother had given him two journals which could only be written in or read by the owner. If anyone else tried, the journals would shrink up to the size of a postage stamp and become impregnably locked.

Aunt Bellatrix had given him a thick, leather-bound book relating the glorious history of the Death Eaters from the beginning to today.

"Be careful with this book, Draco. I had it specially bound for you in Muggle hide leather."

On hearing that his new book was bound in human (albeit Muggle) skin, Draco had looked at it with more interest. I wonder how they got the skin off in such a big section and how they tanned it? Too bad Father's not here, he'd have known how they did it.

While idly flipping through the pages in his new Death Eaters book, he heard someone knocking on the front door.

More guests? At this hour? I wonder who it could be? Crabbe and Goyle back for more cake, maybe?

Hearing footsteps approaching, he looked up to see his mother standing in the doorway. Her face was drained of all colour, her body trembling so much that she had trouble remaining upright. Grasping the doorframe for support, she said, "Draco, the Dark Lord is here to see you."