𝐀 𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐄

Chapter 3

Chapter 3: "Chapter Three"

'Shopping', in Malfoy terminology, involved quite a bit more than one's regular, every day shopping. Lucius enjoyed browsing every store, window-shopping, if you will, but he also enjoyed spending, and, as a result, they would often exit every store laden with more packages than they'd entered with. Draco was to have a whole new wardrobe, tailored carefully to his slender frame and filled with soft cotton shirts and linen trousers and cashmere sweaters and silken underthings. His robes and outerwear were next, and were of the finest velvets and furs and satins and silks and brocades, and soft buttery leather for his gloves, and fine dragon hide for his boots.

The next stop was the apothecary, so Draco could obtain a basic set of Potions ingredients; the rest of his stock would come by owl order, but the most basic of ingredients would have to be bought immediately. Then they were off to find equipment: a set of cauldrons, a balance, a large set of phials, and whatever other cunning devices caught their fancy. Lucius suggested they look for Cliodne next, but Draco was determined that the search take as long as need be, so they went for a wand next. The wand search took a surprisingly short amount of time, and ended up being twelve and three eighths inches, oak and unicorn hair. Draco cradled the wand ecstatically to his chest as they entered Eeylops' Owl Emporium.

Once inside, Draco forgot nearly everything else as he gazed around in wonder at the darkness, the glinting jewel eyes peering at him from every direction, the soft rustlings and hoots, the occasional brush of wind brought about by the beating of eager wings.

"I want her to look as if she can almost answer when I speak to her," Draco explained as he peered at a stately eagle owl with golden eyes. "If she does look like she can respond, that will make the conversation much more interesting than if she just tilts her head to the side and hoots in confusion."

Lucius chuckled softly, and pointed out a small snowy owl with an intelligent face.

After they had made almost the complete round of the shop, Lucius was beginning to look more and more concerned, as there was no sign of Cliodne anywhere. Draco, on the other hand, was looking more and more excited.

"She is hiding from us," he breathed in a low, knowing voice, standing very still and looking around. "She is trying to study us, to see if we shall be as compatible as I know we are. She is intelligent, Father, and very clever."

Lucius, although he was tired, found himself unable to do anything but laugh. "Of course, Draco," he smiled, setting a hand on Draco's shoulder. "She would not be Cliodne if she was not—"

"Father!" Draco cut him off, very suddenly, his voice holding a tremulous note of excitement. "There she is!"

Lucius stopped immediately, and followed Draco's eyes up to the rafters where a tiny, black scops owl perched, her enormous golden eyes the only think keeping her from blending entirely into the background. As Lucius watched, she cocked her head, skipped forward on her post a bit, and dipped her head into a low bow. Draco swept a very elegant bow in return, and Lucius stifled a laugh at the solemnity of the entire exchange.

After the formalities were over, Draco held up his hand, and, without hesitation, the owl flew down from her perch and landed sweetly on his wrist.

"Father," Draco said very seriously, "meet Cliodne."

Lucius inclined his head politely, a small smile tugging the corners of his mouth, and the owl responded in kind before trilling gently and turning her attention back to Draco, who proceeded to carry her carefully around the shop, picking out a variety of comforts for her. Lucius watched with a sad eye, running a gloved hand through his hair. "My Draco," he murmured softly, "I don't believe you really know how much I am going to miss you."

It was late in the day that the two of them finally finished their excursion, and headed back to the school. Lucius was to leave again in the morning, and Draco's lessons were to start the next day, so it was best for Draco to settle in that night. With Draco clinging to his hand, he informed Mister Fudge that all Draco's expenses were to be paid out of his Gringott's vault; he was to take a list of expenses to the Head Goblin at the bank, who would then provide Fudge with sufficient funds to cover those expenses. Lucius reminded Fudge that he was to spare no expense; Draco was to have everything he desired, and only the very best would do. Then, without another word, and trying his best to ignore the look of pure greed in Fudge's eyes, he and Draco mounted the stairs to Draco's room.

The room was, as promised, very large and very elegant. Silk sheets were laid out on the enormous bed, covering a soft, fluffy mattress, swan-down pillows and comforter, and several warm, fleecy blankets. Two large and beautiful velvet-upholstered armchairs flanked an intricately-carved table of ebony, and the rug on the floor was thick and beautifully made. An enormous bookshelf was set into the wall and bore all of Draco's favorites, plus the new books they had bought that day. His broomstick was polished and set up in its own stand next to Cliodne's beautiful perch. All in all, it was a more than comfortable arrangement, and Draco felt quite at home, save for the fact that the one person who would have made his living space feel most like a home was leaving him. He flung himself into the elder Malfoy's arms, feeling as if his heart was flying to pieces in his chest.

"Dear Draco," Lucius uttered, although he too felt his heart was breaking, "it will seem scarcely a month before we are back together, and then I promise that I shall never leave you again."

"I know, Father," Draco said bravely, but still he held on as if he would never let go.

When Lucius finally exited the Seminary, it was with a heavy heart, and he looked back often, waving and kissing his hand at the window where Draco sat, his arms around his knees, Cliodne cradled in the crook of his arm.

When Mr. Fudge sent his wife up to check on Draco, she found that she could not open the door. When she pulled out her wand to charm it open, she heard a queer, polite little voice from within.

"I have locked it because I wish to be alone, please," it stated quite firmly.

Mrs. Fudge was very much the opposite of her husband. She was a charmingly plump, good-natured woman with a slight overbite and hair the color of strained peaches. She was, however, a rather weak woman, and stood very much in awe of her 'much more clever' husband, and never disobeyed him. She went downstairs again, a bit perplexed.

"Your new charge is the oddest child," she remarked upon encountering her husband in his office, a glass of currant rum in hand. She was fond of children, but had none of her own, as her husband was unable, and therefore often did not know what to make of them. "He has locked himself in his room and is making no noise at all."

Fudge took a large sip of his rum and then mopped his brow with a large, graying handkerchief. "It is better than if he were to throw a tantrum, as some of them have done in the past," he reminded his wife.

"Oh yes," Mrs. Fudge answered with a slight twitch, remembering the last time one of the children had thrown a fit. She was of rather delicate sensibilities, and loud noises quite offended her hearing. "We could not have that at all. We are fortunate that he is quite well-mannered."

"He is exceedingly spoilt," Fudge snapped, taking another sip of rum. "I would not be surprised if he expects us all to wait on him hand and foot. However, his father has been quite generous in his donations to the school, and we must bear it as best we can. Besides, he will look quite impressive at the head of the class. He has been provided for as if he were a little prince."

And upstairs, the little prince sat quite still and quite quiet, his new companion cuddled up against his neck, watching as his father disappeared into the dark distance of Diagon Alley.