Words of a Serpent

It was a week before the first term of his second year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was to begin for Draco Malfoy, but it hardly felt that way. The sun still hung overhead instead of the usual rain clouds that littered the sky come start of the year - and Draco’s hidden conscious was weighted down with the fact that he still had several essays to do.

Instead of doing his Potions homework, as his father had ordered, Draco was casually leaning against the wall on the outside of a room he hardly ever went in as there was nothing really of interest in it. His ear was pressed to the thick oak door as he listened in on what was likely the closing of a private conversation.

It was second nature to him to hold his breath as they talked - he knew all too well what his parents would think, and most importantly do, if they caught him eavesdropping. Draco wasn’t much worried about Narcissa’s reaction; as a mother she could only feel motherly love toward her one and only son, but his father was more strict in handling discipline toward Draco, no matter how much his mother protested in return.

"Lucius, do you not think Draco would find it?" Narcissa, his mother, asked. She mother grunted slightly, a sound she made when she was doing physical labour that was much to hard on her thin frame. There wasn’t much in the room as far as Draco knew so the sound made him even more curious then he had been.

"No. The magic surrounding it is much too powerful," Lucius said confidently, but from the way Narcissa could be heard tutting, clearly she didn’t seem to believe him.

"Well, if he finds it, don’t you go blaming me," she testily warned him.

Draco tried vainly to look through the small keyhole in the doorknob to see what they could possibly be talking about, but could only see the familiar back of his father’s black robes. They swished slightly as Lucius stamped at the ground, furthering Draco’s curiosity to dangerous heights.

"It’ll be gone within a few day’s time anyway. We won’t have to worry about it." There was a loud clunk as something slammed tightly.

Draco was about to push the door open to interrupt, hoping to catch a glimpse of whatever they were talking about, when he was distracted by two large green eyes peering at him from around the corner. An ear popped out as well, as the creature slowly came around after realising they had been caught.

"What do you want, Dobby?" he snapped, irritated by the presence of the house-elf. Elves were stupid things in Draco’s opinion, so he never felt the need to be kind.

The house elf stepped forward, shaking visibly, "N-nothing young Master M-malfoy, sir."

Draco smirked at its fright around him. "Get me a drink, Dobby."

Nodding vigorously, Dobby scampered off towards the kitchen.

He turned back to the door but the conversation had ended. His father must have Apparated to another part of the house so he wouldn’t be bothered by a servant on his way and Narcissa was, Draco assumed, tidying up after what they had done which still wasn’t apparent.

He quietly turned the knob as to not distract his mother but she was closer to the door than he had thought. The Manor was old and, unfortunately, many of the doors creaked more loudly then was necessary.

"Draco!" Narcissa said, sharply drawing in an audible gasp. Her hand was clutched over her heart as though she had been suddenly startled to near-death, but she was quickly trying to shoo him out of the room.

"Mum," Draco whined. "What’s in there?"

He bobbed his head back and forth trying to see past his mother’s figure but the door shut with a loud bang, blocking his view, again, from seeing inside.

"That is none of your business, Draco. This is between your father and I." She dragged him by the arm away from the room until they were both a good distance from it down the hall. Draco tried to put up a fight by making her pull him but she was stronger then she looked. After pulling him up and straightening his clothes he tried again.

"But --" he began.

"No buts! Get to your room before your father finds out where you were," she ordered, frowning at her son.

Draco pouted. Sticking his lower lip out usually got him his own way, but there was no changing her mind - she was just as stubborn as he was. He turned around to head to his room when his legs crashed into a figure a foot or two shorter then he was.

"Dobby!" Draco yelled, earning him a quick glance from his mother who was now walking around the corner down the corridor ahead.

"Here is your drink, sir, young Master Draco, sir," Dobby squeaked, handing over a crystal-cut glass with a bubbling brown liquid in it. Draco took the glass abruptly, spilling some of it on the wooden floor. Dobby bent down to wipe it up with his pillow case clothes when he received a kick.

"Stupid elf," he grumbled, still rubbing his bruised shins when the elf skidded away.

"Draco," his mother warned from somewhere down the hall. Her tone was reminding him that he still had his Potions homework to do.

"I know, I know," he drawled, scowling to himself.

Draco began climbing the steps up to his room in a gloomy sort of state. He’d give anything to not have to write any more essays, no matter how much he liked Potions or Professor Snape. He hated writing them with a passion especially during the holidays when he could have been doing something more productive - like practising Quidditch for example. He’d make it on the team this year if it killed him.

Plopping down on his large four-poster bed, Draco pulled out a new eagle feather quill and a roll of parchment. He skimmed through his Potions textbook turning periodically to the index to find the function of an ingredient or the result of a potion. The only noise that could be heard from the inside of his room for the next hour was the sound of quill scratching parchment and Draco muttering about time wasting essays. His parents had better be pleased about that not to mention Professor Snape who always graded harshly even though Draco was his favourite student. He was adding the finishing touches to the conclusion when a distinct ‘pop’ could be heard outside in the hallway, then the loud creaking of his door as it was slowly opened.

"Sir, s-supper is ready, young Master Draco," Tilly, another house elf for the Malfoys, had her body half hidden behind the door as she spoke.

Draco sighed loudly, he was so close to finishing and now he had lost the perfect ending to an otherwise perfect written report. Stupid elf, he thought.

Down in the dining area, Lucius and Narcissa were quietly sitting at the table, both reading a copy of the Evening Prophet from opposite ends of the large table. Upon entering, Draco received minimal acknowledgement from both of his parents.

"Evening Mum," he paused, nodding politely. "Father."

"Evening Draco," they both said, not bothering to look up. Apparently the paper was more important then him at the moment. But it was, as always, the same ritual he had endured most of his life.

The table was already set by the elf servants and the food lay steaming in assorted silver dishware. Draco helped himself to a large spoonful of mashed potatoes and some buttered broccoli.

"Lucius, did you read about the raids the Ministry has been conducting recently? Dreadful," Narcissa commented, passing Draco the creamed corn.

"Mmm," he answered, his mouth full. "I do hope they’re paying Arthur Weasley well." His lips broke into a malicious smile as he flipped to the fourth page.

"Mother, can I read that?" Draco asked, eyeing the Evening Prophet. The mentioning of the Weasel’s father had peaked his interest.

She handed him the paper without thought. Draco’s mouth breaking into a grin mirroring his father’s as he glanced over the article. This would certainly provide him at least a week’s worth of insults toward Weasley when he got back to school. Excellent.

He hardly thought anything of the raids until the day’s earlier events came to mind. His parents must have been concealing some Dark objects and that’s why his mother hadn’t wanted him to see.

"Father," Draco said suddenly. "They wouldn’t try and search the Manor, would they?"

Lucius looked at his son, the answer obvious, "Of course not. Although I wouldn’t put it past Arthur Weasley to at least try. We’ve been as low profile as possible, so don’t go around Hogwarts telling everyone that we have anything. At a time like this we can’t afford to have our cover blown," his eyes narrowed at Draco.

"Lucius, you really should think of selling some of it. We don’t need it anyway," his mother suggested. She despised to see Lucius berate Draco. "Mr. Borgin would probably love to buy some of it."

"Yes father!" Draco said excitedly. He loved going to Knockturn Alley. He found the best Dark objects there. It also made for good gloating as most other wizarding families wouldn’t allow their children on such a dangerous street.

Lucius’ eyes darted toward his son in a look of amused shock, "Why would I take you?"

"Well," Draco paused. "I do need to go to Diagon Alley. Term starts in a week and I need my new school books and such."

The perfect excuse, and he hadn’t even had to lie.

His mother nodded, agreeing, "It won’t hurt to let him go with you, Lucius. Just don’t you touch anything." She pointed a long, thin finger at Draco.

"Please?" Draco pleaded. With his mother on his side there was a sure chance Lucius would let him go.

Lucius sighed unpleasantly, "I suppose you can come along."

There was a quiet "Yes!" from Draco at the announcement, which neither of his parents heard.

"Should I owl Mr. Borgin and tell him you’re coming? He must be busy, considering all of the happenings,” Narcissa asked. She was wise to assume Mr. Borgin was busy. His store - Borgin and Burkes - was one of the most well established shops in Knockturn Alley and was no doubt getting a lot of business from wizards holding onto belongings they’d used in the time of Lord Voldemort.

"Yes, tell him Draco is coming also," Lucius pushed his chair away from the table, silently excusing himself. His last statement seemed cryptic but there was no time to ask him to decipher it.

Draco quietly finished what was left on his plate, excitedly thinking of all the things he would be able to look at in Borgin and Burkes. His father was strict on the things he could buy, but Draco was positive he’d be able to muster enough pocket money to at least buy one little thing.

He, too, was about to excuse himself when his mother stopped him.

"Draco, you have finished all of your schoolwork, haven’t you?" she asked. Her arm was across his chest, pinning him to his chair.

"Er," Draco started. "Almost done with my last Potions essay." He smiled.

"You know your father won’t let you go unless you’re done all of it," Narcissa reminded him. She had had enough of Lucius’s yelling at Draco about his grades and would not permit her son to do so poorly this year especially after the amount of convincing she’d done to get him into Hogwarts instead of Durmstrang.

"I would have finished if the bloody house elf hadn’t bothered me," he complained.

She gave him a meaningful look and left the table, calling the house elves to come and clean up. A group of young elves had already congregated at his feet by the time he stood up forcing him to wade through and finally burst out of the dining room with effort.

Draco trudged back to his room in silence except for the slap of his shoes against the marble stairs. Opening the door, he yelped in surprise. Sitting on the bed was a huge tawny owl quietly preening itself in the candlelight. An envelope dangled from its leg in a poorly tied bow half ripped open from the current of air that had beaten against it on the journey. He tore it open, his face contorting to a look of pure disgust as his eyes met the loopy pink handwriting. It was from Pansy.

He didn’t even bother reading it her letters were always full of drivel about her boring life, but instead bent down to pick up the pictures that had fallen to the floor. Each picture was almost exactly the same, each had Pansy smiling shyly towards the camera. He threw them aside as well, as far as he knew Pansy and him were not dating, though she seemed to think differently.

"Go away," he hissed at the owl, pushing it over. It hooted at him angrily and flew out the window without a backwards glance rattling a few things on the dresser near the bed with it’s massive wingspan.

"I knew I shouldn’t have left the window open," Draco mumbled to himself, slamming it shut.

He turned back to his bed with his forgotten essay still lying on top. He really didn’t feel like finishing it, but the thought of Knockturn Alley was more important. Picking up his quill, he neatly wrote out the last couple of sentences to his conclusion, then lazily fell back onto a pillow.

Draco sighed loudly, eyelids drooping closed as he fell into a dreamless sleep.