Platinum Blond and the Seven House Elves

"Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who is the fairest of them all?"

Lucius Malfoy shook back his head of golden hair and smiled confidently at the mirror; he had been hearing the same answer for 20 years now, ever since his sister in law bought the mirror for him and Narcissa as a cruel joke of a wedding present.

The mirror answered, "Lucius Malfoy, proud and tall - no longer fairest of them all - thy heir has thy looks and far beyond - the one they call Platinum Blond."

Lucius blanched and an end split. He grasped the mirror's ornate, golden edges and stared in disbelief at his son's striking image in the glass. Platinum Blond, indeed!

"Draco," he breathed.

After wandering the grounds for many an hour, Lucius returned to the manor with a plan: he would have to get rid of the beautiful blond bastard ... wait - no, not bastard - but alliteration was too hard to pass up. He would kill his repugnant spawn who forced him to trim an entire inch of hair this morning to vanquish the split.

Lucius crept silently to his son's bed, holding the dagger with a skull on the hilt and the blade growing out of its mouth. He raised the dagger, steeling himself, then he pulled back the covers in a rush and plunged the blade deep into the feathered mattress.

Lucius let out a gasp of angered surprise.

Draco was gone.

***

Narcissa was just stepping out of the shower when she heard Lucius begin his morning ritual. She sighed inwardly, wishing he would stop that ridiculous obsession of his. Everyone with shorter roots knew that the mirror lied to him so he wouldn't break it in a fit of grief.

This morning, however, the mirror's well-rehearsed poetry was different. She paused, listening to the mirror's response from their en-suite washroom. Draco? But ... how could this be?

She listened to Lucius knock over a table then, clutching a towel, rushed over to the mirror.

"What did you tell him?" she demanded.

The mirror stared smugly back. "Only that Platinum Blond has finally done what it was obvious he was going to do from the moment of his conception: become more beautiful than his parents."

Narcissa put three, french-manicured fingers to her mouth and turned away. She knew Lucius wouldn't take this well, and her only son would once again pay the price of her husband's selfishness. There was only one thing to do.

***

"Mother, this is most unnecessary," Draco protested as he was dragged forward through the woods by Narcissa's iron grip on his wrist.

"No it's not Draco," she said for the tenth time, "this is for your own good."

Draco stumbled, but kept his footing. "I still don't see why I can't go live with Auntie Bella," he whined. "She'd take care of me."

"Your aunt is currently deep in the enchanted forest brewing her potions and casting spells. She isn't prepared for you," Narcissa said quickly.

Draco stared. "The forbidden forest?"

"Yes, yes, whatever," she muttered, distracted.

Draco rolled his eyes.

***

"This is it," Narcissa said happily, at last arriving at their destination in the enchanted wood.

Draco, however, did not seem to think they had arrived at their destination and looked around in bewilderment. "This is what? A small clearing and trickle of water?"

Narcissa laughed pleasantly. "No, no, darling, this is my aunt's old cottage. This is where you'll be staying." She looked so pleased.

Draco didn't. "I don't have a choice, do I?" he asked miserably.

Narcissa's smile widened. "No," she said kindly. "Your father is trying to kill you. I'll send for you when the time is right. Farewell, my son."

"Goodbye, mother," Draco said glumly.

"Oh, and try to get along with the House Elves," she said kindly.

Before Draco could ask about the plural use of 'house elf', she had disapparated. Draco sighed and shuffled slowly over to the cottage and opened the door. The first thing he saw was a dark, dusty room, and the second thing he saw was the sky through the trees, because he was knocked onto his back.

"Why ... it's Platinum Blond!" exclaimed a squeaky voice at Draco's feet.

"Platinum Blond!" chorused several other voices.

Draco lifted his head. Seven house elves were gathered around his feet, all staring at him excitedly. One was even pawing his shoe in awe. Draco snatched it away and hurriedly got to his feet.

"Which one of you knocked me over?" he demanded.

"That would be Lifter," said the squeaky-voiced elf showing earlier interest in Draco's shoe.

"And that's you?" Draco asked to clarify. He could never understand the elves' way of speaking in third person.

"Certainly, Good Shoe," the elf said with a nod. "Lifter did not recognise Good Shoe as a child of the Black family."

Draco frowned. "Then I expect you to start cleaning the filth in this room at once, if I am to live here," Draco demanded, suddenly in his element. "And stop calling me Good Shoe. My name is Platinum Blond."

The elves chuckled to themselves and exchanged looks as if sharing a secret. "Oh no, master Platinum," another elf said in what was almost a hiss. "Snapper takes care of Long Fingers and keeps him from harm, but no servitude of the elves Long Fingers finds here."

"What?" exclaimed Draco, appalled. "House Elves serve the humans, now clean this room, or there will be punishment!"

Still the house elves laughed. At last a house elf in a ragged loincloth came forward and spoke. "Does Platinum Blond remember Kreacher?" it asked. "Platinum Blond was only an elfling when Kreacher saw him last."

Draco recognised him. "You!" he said indignantly. "You serve my family. Why are you not groveling for mercy?"

"Platinum Blond must understand," said Kreacher, "that humans are not rulers here. House elves be charge of this cottage because humans cannot control us here. Platinum Blond will be safe, but Platinum Blond is doing what we says." He finished speaking with a nasty twinkle in his eye that Draco did not like.

"Humans cannot control you, do you think?" he sneered in a mocking tone, pulling out his wand. "Perhaps you've never meet Mr. Pointy - hey!"

The elf calling himself Snapper bit his wand cleanly in two. Draco held up the two bits and glared at him. "That was my grandfather's," he said with a dispirited sniff.

"Platinum Blond will comes inside now where it is safe," Kreacher said.

"Oh no he won't," Draco challenged. "Platinum Blond will sit right here, and not move." And he plopped down on a patch of grass outside the cottage with folded arms, not caring that he had begun to speak in third person.

The elves exchanged delighted glances.

Draco admirably ignored them.

Then the house elves marched over to Draco, picked him up, and carried him, kicking and screaming, into the cottage.

The door shut with a bang, returning the clearing to the tranquil and peaceful scene it was only moments before.