Butler in Britain

Butler in Britain

Prologue: Mishap in the Burrow

Voldemort had risen with Harry Potter's blood. He sought all malevolent people and creatures alike and formed an unbeatable army. The dark times for the Wizarding World had returned. Cornelius Fudge was murdered, but his death was just one of the countless others. Dumbledore is in a wreck. Tonks, Lupin, Mad-Eye Moody and a myriad of others have united with only one goal in mind: defeat Lord Voldemort. Hogwarts is completely closed, along with the other Wizarding schools, in fear of any attacks. Arthur Weasley is promoted. Hermione Granger is studying. Harry Potter is picking his nose.

And Draco Malfoy, a boy of 17, is raiding the Burrow.

"I like that clock," said Malfoy broodingly, rubbing his chin with his thumb as he stared at the Weasleys' grandfather clock, which currently showed all the family hands in 'extreme frustration'. Malfoy groaned in irritation as he saw that it wasn't in 'mortal peril', the only place he wanted to put the hand of the clock into. Realizing that the Weasleys were not going to die, he ordered angrily, "Take it away!"

Two of the ten bulky robed men moved in to steal the clock from the Weasleys. Molly was about to scream in protest but Arthur quickly held her back. There was no use disobeying Draco Malfoy's orders. He was the son of the chief of the Dark Lord's army. They had the right to kill. Arthur's three sons, Fred, George, Ron, and their youngest daughter, Ginny, were all cowering behind their father, their faces matching the colour of their hair in anger.

Malfoy glanced at the beaded necklace Harry had given Ginny last year; the year wherein they were so sure they would never see each other again, due to the recent dark events. Ever since then, Ginny had always kept it beside her at all costs, but this time, Ginny had left it in the dining table, just within Malfoy's reach.

Malfoy grinned evilly.

"I like this necklace," Malfoy announced, snatching the necklace carelessly, "Pansy would drool over it."

"No!" Ginny cried out, suddenly emerging from behind her father's protective hold and running towards Malfoy, screaming, "You're so cruel!"

As Ginny's palms enclosed on Malfoy's neck, producing a number of gasps from her family and Malfoy's bodyguards, Ginny's mind was reeling with images of the past hard weeks for her and the whole Wizarding community--especially the day she thought she would never see Harry ever again.

It was a day like any other. At the end of the empty corridor was Filch, murmuring incoherent words while trying his best to produce a sparkling clean hallway at the last day before the school closes.

Ginny was standing fixedly in front of the window, the warm air of May stinging her cheeks. The atmosphere around her was filled with dread, and everyone's hearts were filled with worry. She clutched the windowsill tightly, never wanting to let go.

"Ginny?"

She quickly turned around, her auburn hair bouncing, as she saw Harry, smiling awkwardly in front of her. Her heart started beating out of her chest for seeing Harry nervous was worse than placing her elbow in a butter dish.

"Ron said you'd be here," he said kindly. Ginny nodded, knowing for a fact that if she spoke, her words would betray her and she'd end up looking very desperate. Thus she decided on keeping her lips pursed and her hands shaking while she stared at Harry with hunger in her eyes.

"I guess you already know this--" he started, his voice noticeably shaking, "--but this might be the last day I'll ever see you. I mean, I know Ron told you about all this missions the Ministry has forced us into joining..."

Ginny looked down on the ground as she tried hard to blink the tears back into her eyes. Never see Harry again? His words were like a knife that stabbed at her heart, making her choke and her sight blurry. When she looked up at him again, his face was filled with passion and love. It was a look that Ginny planned on remembering until she sees him again.

"Here," Harry murmured, extending out a closed fist, "this is for you."

Ginny gladly accepted his offering with a shy smile, but before she could even gain sight of it, Harry had already fled, his steps echoing throughout the empty hall. She opened her palm to examine his gift.

It was a beaded necklace.

By the time Malfoy's bulky men had reached Ginny, she was already strangling Malfoy with her bare hands, tears streaming down the sides of her cheeks. "Urgh," Malfoy groaned, disgusted, "Weasley filth."

"Us Weasleys are worth hundreds of you, Malfoy," Ginny said sharply, as the brawny wizards held her back, making her shoulders ache.

"With all due respect, Benny," Malfoy whispered cunningly, "I'm not the one being restrained here."

"It's Ginny," she corrected, fuming.

"Oh bloody hell, Little Bit!!" Malfoy yelled, shrugging her off, "Just because I didn't get your bloody name right doesn't mean you're better than me."

"You're just famous now because You-Know-Who's in charge. But I swear, Malfoy, ten years from now, after You-Know-Who is dead, you'd be standing in my own shoes. No, scratch that--you'd be even lower."

For a moment, Malfoy's eyes glowered in a grimace. Everyone stood tense, not daring to say anything that would push Malfoy on the edge of his patience. Even after how hard the Weasleys tried to protect Ginny, Malfoy still scowled and pointed at her with his wand.

"Don't!" Ron shouted.

"Please spare my daughter!" Molly begged helplessly.

The words of protection the Weasleys uttered were helpless, for the young silver-haired murderer didn't choose to heed them. Instead, he murmured a few words that Ginny didn't catch. She looked up at his twelve inch wand, rooted to the spot, due to her fear. His men had long abandoned her, letting go of her shoulders as soon as they saw Malfoy's fingers enclose on his wand. They didn't expect him to let this moment pass him by.

Golden sparks emerged from the tip of his wand, making Ginny wonder what could be wrong in something that was so beautiful. She watched as the sparks, like dancing faeries, encircled both of them, emitting blinding light that made her eyes hurt. He was watching her, his grey eyes set in a determined stare. The golden light made his cheeks glow as if they were on fire. She felt the warm radiance fulfilling her whole body, her red hair levitating a little and she felt as if she was floating.

It lasted for only two seconds, and it disappeared as soon as it had mysteriously become visible. The Burrow was dark again, void of its enchanting luminosity that was Malfoy's power. Everyone dared not to speak, as if one word would push Malfoy to the edge of his patience.

When he spoke, his voice expressed power that made thousands of Muggles fear him. He said the words that made Ginny wonder for a long time, thinking and doubting if his words were ever true.

"That was a charm," he said, not taking his eyes off her, "it will make us meet in exactly ten years, at this hour of the day. You'll see then Vinny that after those many years that had passed us, you will still posses that stink that covers your whole entity, and you will still demonstrate that same rotting image of your family."

He made a gesture that made all of his bodyguards pile beside him, leaving the poor girl and her family speechless. They marched out of the broken door, leaving pieces of furniture behind, and scattered pile of ruins that was once called home. As Molly broke down and cried, and Arthur rushed to the kitchen to check if the Death Eaters had stolen some tea, Ginny walked up to her windowsill and saw her family's enemies walking off to the sunset.

There were no words to articulate her anger, so instead she screamed at the top of her lungs, "It's Ginny!"

Chapter One: Power In Azkaban

Nine years and three hundred and fifty-three days later, Draco Malfoy realized that banging his head in the cold stonewalls of his prison was not a good idea at all. He stopped abruptly and quickly rubbed the sore spot on his forehead. The bell ringing in the distance indicated that it was already lunchtime in his Azkaban prison.

It had been long tiring years for Draco. Wizard soldiers in the Dark Lord's side, managed to trick the Dementors into entering their force, but a mysterious spy agency, named as the Order of the Phoenix, slowly infiltrated their secret bases, and thus led to the defeat of Voldemort's army. Like many others, Draco Malfoy was sent to Azkaban with a life sentence. Lucius Malfoy and the other leaders, however, were sent to execution first thing after nine years of horrible torture under different kinds of curses, which was coincidentally, tomorrow morning. Using the last of their powers, the Order cursed all of Voldemort's soldiers, making them feel the pain every time they inflicted pain unto others.

Draco's only satisfaction that kept him alive all those years was that he was lucky the Dementors were already banished, for only wizards and witches guarded his prison now. Also, he knew that the members of the Order were left powerless, and as far as he knew, as soon as his father and other chief officials were beheaded by tomorrow morning, he was the most powerful wizard ever known to mankind.

Except of course for Potter.

But he was pretty sure that Potter was one of the Order, so he need not worry.

Ellise, the witch that gives him his food everyday, dodged automatically as Draco once more plunged his body forward to the bars, in a futile attempt to kill her with his bare hands. As soon as the thought came to his mind though, he immediately writhed in pain, for the curse punishes its bearer not only if one did evil, but also if one thought of it.

"You know," said Ellise, a compassionate and patient witch as she slipped his potatoes and bread through the bar, "if you stop trying to attempt murder, you'd stop getting hurt."

"Attempting murder is the only factor that keeps me alive, love," said Draco huskily, as he tried but failed to smooth his long and dirty blonde hair with his hand, "unless you want to accompany me at night and do me some shagging."

"That's your whole life, isn't it?" Ellise snorted, "Pound your head in the bars in the morning, eat, attempt murder, pound your head, eat, attempt murder, almost get shagged and pound your head again."

"Almost get shagged?" asked Draco, raising his eyebrows at her playfully. "So that means you want me and that when I ask you to shag me, you become really flattered but you just can't because there's a humungous difference between us and you don't want our children to have a father in jail. Don't you worry, love, we'll try to keep our relationship sexual because by all means, we wouldn't want our children to suffer, am I right?"

"Malfoy, you're hopeless. You know that right?"

"Oh, I don't think so, Ellise," a wizard, dressed in midnight blue robes that made Draco cringe in remembrance of his silky bed sheets back in the Malfoy Manor, protested as he walked up to Draco's cell, "'cause someone's outside right now, visiting our very own psychotic Blondie. Am I right or am I right, Malfoy?"

"First, I am not a psychotic Blondie, and second, I don't see any reason why someone would be visiting me. My father's in prison and my mother left us because she was a coward."

"Just come out of there," the wizard insisted, as he opened Draco's jail cell, "I don't think he's related to you in any way, his hair's red for one."

Oh damn, Draco thought silently, who would enlighten me more but a Weasley?

He walked through the white walls and filthy cells, and he couldn't help but noticing that most of the inhabitant of each prison was someone he knew. His mind then flashed back to Crabbe and Goyle, his favourite minions, who had cowardly pleaded for forgiveness on their knees, absolutely ignoring Draco's principles which he had diligently taught them for the past few years. Draco shook his head for the sake of condoling the horrible loss of the dignity of his two friends.

Draco stopped in the middle of his head shake when he spotted Weasley, yes the Ronald Weasley, dressed in a very expensive wardrobe which was velvety black, with his hair sleek and shiny, the way Draco did his hair at Hogwarts, standing as soon as he saw Draco approach, as a gentleman would.

"Wow, Weasley," Draco exclaimed as the Weasel examined him from head to foot, noticing his long and filthy blonde hair, the bags under his faded grey eyes, the thinness of his once so muscular frame and his hollow cheekbones, "I'm experiencing an alternate universe right now, where you're rich, I'm filthy, Granger's hair is straight and so is Potter."

"Harry was never gay, Malfoy," Weasley murmured as he sat down as soon as Draco sat down comfortably on the chair as well. "Give it up."

"Oh, sorry," Draco responded snappily, "I keep on forgetting that you were Potter's boyfriend."

"Believe it or not, Malfoy," said the Weasley, raising his eyebrow in a sophisticated manner, "I was never gay."

Draco then threw his head back and started laughing heartily, making the other prisoners peer out of their cell bars, wondering what was going on. By the time Draco managed to calm down, the Weasley was already red in the ears, a sign that he was ready to pound on him any minute.

"What's so funny?" the Weasley growled menacingly.

"That sounded gayer out loud than the way it sounded in my dreams," Draco replied, snickering.

"Malfoy, I'm on the verge of pitying you. Don't push it."

Draco hastily zipped his mouth shut, in fear that a Weasley would pity him and look down on him with care in his eyes. The thought alone sent shivers down Malfoy's spine.

The Weasley, sensing that Draco was willing to behave, took a slight swerve in their conversation and started on the serious business.

"Malfoy," he began gravely, his voice so low that it was barely audible in Draco's ears, "this wasn't my idea at all. It was Hermione's."

"No, I was pretty sure it was you," Draco interrupted, "I clearly remember you shouting at the top of your lungs when your trio got me cornered in the alley. You were yelling these exact words: 'imprison him in Azkaban! Or better yet, cut off his--'"

"I'm not talking about your sentence," he protested, shaking his head in frustration, "I'm talking about what you're about to face."

"So you really are cutting off my--"

"Malfoy," said the Weasley warningly.

"--And here I was, hoping against hope that the Ministry thinks that punishment is definitely barbaric."

"Yes, it is barbaric, Malfoy. I only suggested doing that because I wasn't thinking at that time."

"So what are you talking about? What is it that I'm about to face?"

When Draco looked at the Weasley's eyes, he knew that it was very hard for the latter to express his words. His eyes were settled on the small spot in the table in front of him, and his ears were as red as his hair. Draco knew right then that Weasley was asking for help.

"The Order need your help," he said at last, looking at Draco in the eye, "we lost half of our power due to the last battle against the You-Know-Who's army in the past year. There has been another attack."

"Oh yeah?" asked Draco excitedly, "And why do you need my help exactly?"

"Hermione devised a simple charm that used up all of her magical abilities. It locates the strongest wizard or witch that has not been void of his or her power. The charm led us to you."

"And give me a reason why I would help you in the first place?"

"Hermione again, being the President of the Ministry, already ordered release papers for you and your Mr. Lucius Malfoy. We located Mrs. Malfoy somewhere in the Bahamas, told her that the war is over, and by the time you finish helping us with this mission, you can return to the Malfoy Manor with your family and you shall never be disturbed, ever again."

"And what makes you so sure that I won't to use this opportunity to simply escape?"

"The curse we have bestowed upon you can only be broken by the person who did it upon you. As far as the curse in concerned, you are helpless to our commands."

Draco leaned back on his chair, seeming to him that the Weasley was right and that there was indeed, no hope for him if he decided to disagree with their plan.

"Why can't Potter do it?" asked Draco grimly, for the thought of giving services to the Order made him sick to his stomach, and he had decided to find every loop hole in the plan as possible.

"Harry's done too many missions already. He's very popular to our enemies. He's--how do you say it--overused."

"I don't get this," said Draco stubbornly, "why don't you want Harry to be recognized by your opponent? I mean, what's the point of attacking, when your opponents don't even know what hit them? Who takes the credit?"

"No one speaks of us--no one knows us. We attack in silence and infiltration is what we're known for. We're a huge spying agency."

"And you want me to--"

"Spy, Malfoy," the Weasley announced enthusiastically, "we want you to spy."