The Malfoy Project

𝟔𝟗 - 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐆𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐓𝐰𝐨 𝐅𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐬

     I don't know why I expected Malfoy Manor to look different, I just did. So I was surprised when I had Apparate to their driveway to find out not a single leaf looked out of place in their well-manicured hedged driveway.

     The house itself is as dreamy and dreary as ever, its grey walls staunch and commandeering, armouring its haunted hallways and marble pillars that strain under the weight of its secrets.

     My feet crunch against the cold gravel as I recite my apology over and over in my head like a prayer. It is interspersed with Theron Montague's deep voice: An apology is an admission of guilt.

     But I am guilty. 

     In my blinding rage I had forgotten that Draco had been just a boy of fourteen who only knew how to quench his thirst for affection the way his parents taught him, and they had been taught by their parents, and theirs, and theirs.

     Draco had not meant to kill Cedric, but he had meant to lie to me about it, and though I understood why, it still sours my insides every time I think about how he had humiliated me in the library.

     Monty, in particular, had been a little antsy about the resumption of my interviews with Draco — he's convinced Draco had manhandled me in some way or other the night of the party, and that I'm just keeping mum about it.

     "If he does or says anything remotely divergent from what he's supposed to, you come tell me immediately, understand?" he commanded me earlier. "He puts one toe out of line and I swear to Merlin he will pay."

     Pay. Because that is what the Malfoys have done and are expected to keep doing, and once they run out of money to bleed they will bleed blood.

     The face on the iron gates sees me from afar and contorts into a scowl, but it doesn't ask any questions, simply swings open silently to let me in. This worries me. Are the Malfoys so angry with me that even their grumpy gate refuses to acknowledge me?

     The moment I step on the porch the entrance doors open with a slow yawn, revealing nothing but blackness within. Then a white face comes from the shadows: Narcissa; looking tired and forlorn and dangerously at risk of being swallowed whole by the darkness.

     "Good afternoon, Mrs. Malfoy," I say, so nervous and awed in her presence that I'm tempted to curtsy.

     "Come in." She pulls open the doors wider, and upon entering I see that she isn't alone. Lucius and Draco are standing in the foyer off to the side, and my chest constricts as I remember the horrifically vile thing I had said the last time I was here.

     Draco's eyes are averted to the floor, his hands clasped behind his back. Lucius is leaning on his cane and looking at me intently. Wordlessly, he lifts one hand from the serpent's head to me. I shake it. "Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy, I would like to apologise for what happened—"

     "No need for that," Lucius cuts in mildly. "I'm sure we are all equally keen to put that behind us and move on."

     "Oh, right." I say, surprised, and turn to Draco, reluctantly. "Still, I'm sorry for what I said to you the last time. I didn't mean it."

     "The last time?" asks Lucius, perking up.

     "Nothing," Draco says quickly before I can open my mouth. 

     "Can't be nothing if she's apologising for it." 

     "She just called me a name."

     Lucius appears lightly humoured at this. "Is that so?" he smiles wanly. "Well then, whatever it is, I'm sure it can't be anything untrue."