Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, all rights belong to J.K. Rowling. I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer, all rights belong to Joss and Mutant Enemy. No infringement is intended, no money is being made.
A.N.: Yay, it's finally here. Many thanks to all who offered to beta. Trace and Rae came through, so any mistakes are clearly theirs, (just kidding). Don't worry if the cross part of the cross over takes a while, I'm just slow is all. Also I made a banner for this, cause I just couldn't help myself, check it out.
Much thanks also to Echo and Houses for inspiration, nobody can write Draco like you guys.Italics
He awoke with a start, which was unusual for him; normally it took a house elf ages to wake him up. But then his bed was always so warm and comfortable, why should he want to leave it, especially now. No, don’t think about it, push it away.
“Why am I awake?”
With that thought he opened his eyes, to impenetrable darkness. This isn’t my bed.
In truth it wasn’t even a bed. A couch of some sort; harder, smaller, less padding.
He searched for his wand and came up empty handed. Trying to get his bearings he stood, slowly, and winced.
He stretched, his hands brushing the ceiling. He was quite sore, more than after quidditch practice, but less than at the end of fourth year; that had taken his mother’s personal medi-witch a full week to put right. Stupid Potter.
It was petty and childish but saying those words always made him feel better, especially now. NO, I won’t think about it, bury it deep. Focus on where you are. Dark, cramped, filled with stale air and shoddy furniture.
Suddenly the room was moving and he lost his balance, crashing right into the couch. Not his, another, opposite, identical. It was then that he realized where he was.
Then there was light.
He tensed, expecting an attack, but it was just daylight, as harsh as ever. She must have been planning this for weeks.2 months earlier
He had decided not to return to school. There were more important things happening, factors that needed to be worked out, so that whatever the outcome they would remain on top, where they belonged. “They” referred, of course, to the Malfoys, all the Malfoys.
Once cleared by the medi-witch, Draco went looking for his mother. It was roughly ten in the morning and Narcissa could usually be found taking tea on the terrace at that time.
“Even now, appearances must be upheld,” Draco bitterly muttered under his breath.
“Good morning, mother.”
His statement was met with silence.
“When is father coming home?”
More silence. Patience had never been his strong suit.
A house elf approached slowly.
It quavered with anxiety.
“Mistress, he is here. The one you sent for... The ... The...”
Draco snarled, “spit it out Vale.”
It whimpered then, looking at Draco and spoke in a rush.
“The goblin from the bank. He is most cross. He threatened Vale with -”
“That will be all Vale,” Narcissa interrupted, “I will see him shortly.”
The house elf scurried out of the room as if it was on fire.
“Perhaps you should occupy yourself with school work today, Draco,” she said dismissively.
“I’m not going back,” he announced, “There’s no point now, the Dark Lord has risen and -”
“We shall discuss this tomorrow.” Narcissa rose from her seat and left the terrace. Draco, at a loss, followed her into the drawing room.
“What about father?” Draco asked plaintively.
She halted her steps, her face set into a look of frozen steel. “To whom are you referring?”
And that was that. Lucius was never to be mentioned, his existence not even hinted at, by anyone. Summer had passed slowly, uneventfully. Draco had withdrawn completely into himself, not that it mattered, because no one wrote to him. He’d become an outcast, something to be abhorred.
He found out later that Narcissa had been to the ministry that day. She had disavowed any knowledge of her husband’s collusion with Lord Voldemort, and officially taken on the role of matriarch for the Malfoy family, which meant Draco had to follow her orders.
Still when August 31st had come, and it was time for dinner, he’d had his arguments all planned out. Pity he’d never gotten a chance to use them.NowShe’d slipped something into his wine. She’d knocked him out, dressed him up and dumped him here, or more likely, had the one of the elves do it.
The door was locked. He was practically helpless without his wand and, given the position of the sun, not likely to be freed anytime soon. Stuck in one of the last places he ever wanted to be; an ill-kept compartment of the Hogwarts Express, on its way to King’s Cross station.
A.N.: please review.