It's Not The End Of The World
Title: It’s Not The End Of The World
Disclaimers: Not mine, Joss and JK own em. I just play with them.
Spoilers: Buffy season 7, and OotP
Summary: Narcissa and Draco must face the challenges set before them.
A/N: Just a little idea that popped up. Tell me how I do. This is my first real attempt at Slytherin characters. Eep. Oh, the title is from the song by Blessid Union of Souls (Home cd)Its Not The End Of The World
Malfoy Manor was an impressive place. An ice cold, hostile territory though it was, you couldn’t
say that it wasn’t impressive. And it had been her castle for the last two decades. She sighed heavily as she watched the car bring her son home to her.
It was raining. She lowered her head as they searched the desk draws. Fools. As if Lucius would be idiotic enough to leave some important clue lying about. Her golden head shone in the cold, black office. Ministry officials searched every room, and her darling boy was about to come home.
* * * * *
Draco Malfoy sneered as the car pulled up to Malfoy Manor. Mother had written him right after father had been arrested. Stupid Potter.
The Ministry was liquidating all of the Malfoy estate, and leaving Narcissa with only the items and money she brought into the marriage. His father was dead because of Potter, and their family was penniless, or very well nearly.
Lucius Malfoy had tried to escape from prison, and in his haste, flung a Unforgivable curse on an Auror, and was hit with it himself. Draco had little time to recover from the news. Narcissa had held it from him, until some of the parents muttered under their breath the Lucius Malfoy got his just desserts.
They had already robbed him of his father. Now, the Ministry was robbing him of his rightful inheritance.
* * * * *
Narcissa made her way down the stairs, her black dress trailing behind her on the black marble steps. She gave her son a small smile.
“Ms. Malfoy, a word with you, please?” A ministry official called.
“In a moment.” She looked over at the man. Her lips were pressed in a thin line. “Can I not even greet my son?”
“This is rather urgent, Ms. Malfoy.”
“It’ll keep if I speak with my son.” She turned from him to face Draco. “My son. We have many things to discuss.”
She led him to the small room off of the main entrance. It was one of her private rooms. Deep, rich green velvet drapery hung from the silver curtain rods, and the wall paper was a pale mint green, with silver trims. The dark mahogany desk and green velvet upholstered chair. She lowered herself into the chair and beckoned for him to sit on the matching chaise lounge.
“What’s going on, Mother?”
“Then you know about your father?”
“Can’t get off the train without hearing the whispers about anyone.” He sneered.
“That was not how I wished for you to learn of this, Draco.” She said softly.
“Yes, well what is the Ministry doing here?” He demanded, desperate to change the subject.
Narcissa had not been ready to tell him all of this so suddenly. She took a deep breath. It was better to tell him the truth quickly.
“Malfoy Manor is to be sold. Our money is going to be severely depleted. We will be allowed to remain on the property, but not in our rooms. I haven’t a clue as to who will live here.”
“Potter’s going to rue the day -”
“Draco!” She snapped, raising her voice shrilly.
His head snapped around to face her. She had always been so demure around Father, but now Narcissa was obviously upset.
“You are to leave the Potter boy alone. Not even speak
to him. Your father went down that same road, my son, and he is dead.
I would not loose you as well.” She said, a single tear rolling down her pale cheek. “Is that understood?” She paused, watching him, waiting for his reply. “Draco?”
They were disturbed by a harsh knocking on the door. She rose, elegant as she ever was, and opened it.
“We must speak Ms. Malfoy.”
“Yes. Draco, do stay in here, dear.” She said to him.
* * * * *
She was shocked. This was not possible. Not in the least. This was unheard
of. The man continued on, listing all of the things that were being seized because of Lucius’ dealings with Voldemort. She leaned forward, over the dark wood of the table.
“You are joking.”
“No, Ms. Malfoy. The man is earnest in his offer and the place is certainly big
enough.” He said laughingly.
“The Council has not had dealings -”
“Ancient history, that is. Fudge and Dumbledore are most fixed on the idea.”
“So, I’ll inform Mr. Giles, and he can begin the transition in a few days time. You and your son will be alotted three rooms in the front of the house. Your private room, and two slightly larger rooms. The house is being redesigned, of course, at the buyer’s insistence. Not really the type of place that is suitable, considering. Far too gloomy.”
“Well, Ms. Malfoy. Dumbledore will be here tomorrow, with Mr. Giles. To oversee the changes.”
“The items that will remain in you and your son’s possession are outlined here, and -”
“Right. I’ll be off now, as will the rest. Good day, Ms. Malfoy.”
The man left, but Narcissa sat there motionless. She was still in shock. Her home was being turned into a school for muggle slayers.
A/N 2: More?