Fake Truth

I

He waltz straight into the dimly lit room and went headed straight to the back wall, where, he had obviously decided he would go before he even entered. Daintly he ran is finger across the moving image and picked it up by the frame from the mantle above the grand fireplace that decorated one of the many elaborately designed rooms in the Malfoy Manor. His dress shoes made hollow echos across the room and his robes billowed out around him giving him a larger and more mysterious look than the one that sat permanently on his face
The photograph, that sat in a small black frame, moved, showing a younger version of himself sitting on one of the lower branches of a tree, with one of his best friends, no scratch that his only friend Blaise leaning against the trunk of that tree laughing at him and a girl...
That girl was beside him, and was swinging her legs in front of herself, focusing on trying to balance a potions book on her knees and all the while he looked at their entwined hands that were sitting in her lap. Their bags strewn across the grass, contents spilling and dressed in slightly crumpled robes.
He was laughing, she was laughing, Blaise was laughing and he knew that it was real but it seemed like it happened in a parallel universe. Not once had he laughed or suppressed a true, genuine smile. Though nobody ever asked him if he was alright, for he had nobody.
His 'friends' had left him to fend for themselves after the Great War, for why would they want to be companions with a Malfoy?
Blaise was in America, or he was the last time that he had sent him an owl, though that was nearly two months ago.
He lived isolated in the fallen manor, keeping to himself, walking around the place, counting up the money that he had left and trying to sort out any debt he would get himself into. He was turning twenty one soon, and if his parents were still around he would be getting married quite soon too but they aren't.
His father in Azkaban and his mother dead. Not that he grieved but he did miss them, just the fact that he could talk to someone and had people who cared for him. That's all he wanted, he felt just like a lost child.
He did this every day: the photograph watching: without fail, the same as eating lunch and taking long meanders across the grounds.
"Mr.Malfoy, s-sir?" A small voice squeaked from the other side of the room snap him into reality, "Professor McGonagall- is-is here to see- see-you, sir." The voice belonged to the last remaining house elf, who for some reason didn't want to leave. Her name was Flowers and had always been loyal to Draco, she was the last house elf left, before Lucius was whisked away to Azkaban he set all his house elves free: he didn't need them anymore, so why keep them. Flowers was the only that was left and after a great deal of lengthily attempts of trying to free her Draco decided to keep Flowers as long as she did not tell anyone that her was still in the Manor.
"Ok, thank you, you may go now." His tone was soft but clipped, he was angry that she had snapped him out of his day dream but he could never let her know that so he let her go.
Draco flung the door closed behind him causing it to echo across the ground floor of the Manor. It seemed so empty now that it was only him; though growing up it was always had a cold look to it. As if it was not lived in; that was until the time of the Great War where deatheaters treated the place as a bed and breakfast as well as a base camp and hideout.
A tall lady walked into his sight, dressed in black robes with golden stitching around the edges. "Mr. Malfoy, lovely to see you after so long."
He stood there arms planted firmly by his sides, his mouth straight and his eyes; emotionless. "Professor McGonagall ." He acknowledged, nodding his head. Her eyes seemed to give him a chill; they were hard and fogged over. Uncomfortable is what he felt as they stood in silence looking at each other.
Minerva coughed, "Draco, I need to have a serious talk with you, is there somewhere that we could sit and chat?"
He mumbled something incoherent and then motioned for her to follow him into the dining room. He took his place at the head of the long marble table. McGonagal sat to his right and delved straight into serious matters.
"Now, you know that after the war we lost one of our great professors, and we have had temporary places ever since. I feel that nobody really enjoys the job as they feel it is not as exciting as something like defence against the dark arts or divination. As I am right in thinking Mr Malfoy, you know from the ministry we already have permanent, full time places set for every other role in our school and I would really like it if you could possibly take up the position?"
Although she asked him a question he felt that it was more like an order or and instruction, as if he had no choice but to do so.
"No one wants me there Professor, you and I both know that, after the death of Dumbledore and the war, I'm surprised an angry mob haven't come to burn the manor down!" He suppressed a laugh as he stretched his arms up, emphasising his point by focusing on their surroundings.
The large dining room was adorned in silver and green: house pride.
McGonagall's face didn't show any emotion and he knew that she knew he didn't wanted I go back, after all he would be respected and valued there after he changed sides during the war.
"Even if I did want to go back, I'm sorry but I have seem to find that I'm, busy at the moment with my father's and mother's money and finances that are still present." He quickly added.
Her face didn't change in the slightest as he said this.
Draco got ready to stand up but the ageing professor spoke up again, "Draco, dear, it's alright, we have another person in mind but we feel that this year we may need to have two potion professors so maybe we could arrange for you to do one part of the week and for our other option to do the other half."
There was no way Draco could get out of this sticky situation, he had no finances to look over and money in gringotts was starting to slowly disappear, he could definitely do with the money, and who knows, maybe one day he could be a great potions master just like his old head of house, Slytherin, Professor Severus Snape, who Draco admired and though of him as a fatherly figure.
"I'll do it," he managed to force out, before Minerva could lecture him anymore.
"Thank you Draco, we will send you and owl, I'm sure you know the procedures." With that Minerva disapperated.
A groan escaped his lips as he tugged his platinum hair. He was already regretting ever accepting the job offer. "Why?" His voice was strained and hoarse as he hit his head against the table and stretched his arms inform of him, running his hands over the cook surface, leaving long streaks that were made by his fingers.
The door to the room opened up again, cautiously Flowers walked into the room, standing by the chair that Draco had currently planted himself onto. "Yes, flowers?" This came out more like a groan, "sir, - Professor McGonagall told me- to-to-tell you that she would -like to - meet-meet at
hogwarts on-on- Monday,sir. She-she- would like master Malfoy to be there for-for two o'clock."
Draco nodded at the house elf and dismissed her with the flick of a hand.
He knew that this was going to be the biggest mistake of his life.