Feral Den

Chapter 36

The room was lit with the suns rising rays as antiques seemed to cover every surface of the room.
Hailee was mesmerized by the family portraits hanging largely on the walls holding the open arch between. The pillars looked ancient, held up by magic as runes ran across each inch of the marble. On the shelves were books and between were open windows blowing a nice breeze that deterred from the blizzard outside.
Hailee blinked, turning to the popping fire in the large marble mantle where furniture sat expertly.

A woman's touch was apparent through the entire area. And yes —there sat the lovely mother Hailee had questioned continuously about actually giving birth to such a devil like Malfoy.
Who, oh my, sat right beside the lovely woman. She was clutching her son's hand, water in her eyes though she refused them to fall. Malfoy, Hailee noticed, looked rather solemn.

She turned, and noticed Lucius sat in the seat she stood next to. Lucius looked tired, and dead. Like his soul had been sucked out of his very body by a dementor.
Lucius sighed, his posture slouched in the armchair —a thing Lucius would sneer at anyone else for doing, Hailee knew.
Glancing Lucius up and down, Hailee took in his hollowed cheeks, hollow and baggy eyes and the very pronounced quirk of his left hand.
Hailee remembered that was the hand Lucius had tried to grab that 'prophecy' with, as Delphini had put it.

"You can't ask for Himalias help, father." Malfoy murmured, his face rather pale for his normal complexion. "The Dark Lord—"
"I know Draco." Lucius snapped at his son.
Malfoy clenched his jaw, shutting up at the harsh tone of his father.
Hailee watched, intrigued as Narcissa sucked in an unsteady breath. The water in her eyes seemed to build, yet they continued to refuse to fall. Lucius rubbed at his quirked hand with spots of red and bent fingers.
"Even so, I have been given a mission—"
"That is killing you." Malfoy breathed.
Lucius bared his teeth, but said nothing as Narcissa clenched her son's hand harder.

The room shifted, melting away into another large space.

The area was open, though Hailee noted the decorations of Slytherin colors and quidditch spirit.
Hailee ran her fingers over the jersey magically held against the wall. It had Malfoys name on it, though it was clearly too small for the boy, and Hailee knew it was from their second year.
Across the wall, the jerseys slow went up in size until it reached their last year, where the unused jersey with the number eight on it. Flint, though Quidditch had been cancelled last year, had seen it fit to give out the jerseys that had been made to fit the teams new measurements.
Hailee remembered that hers was... somewhere in her trunk, probably at the bottom with the birthday present Sirius had gotten her during summer.

She turned away from the jerseys, and the old brooms that lined the wall leading to a lit fire mantle made of rich granite.
Sitting across from the fire was Malfoy on a lush couch made of soft materials Hailee didn't know the name to. It was the only piece of furniture apart from the large bed pushed against the wall opposite of the door. A walking wardrobe open with lines and lines of clothes to the left with a closed door Hailee suspected led to the washroom on the right.
The oak desk was riddled with parchments and textbooks from their years at Hogwarts, and some for 'light reading' as Malfoy liked to insist when Hailee teased him over the large books he carried around much like Hermione.

"Potter."
Hailee startled, snapping her attention toward Malfoy who continued to sit on the couch. His gaze was turned from the fire though, as if he could see her.
"I can feel you." Malfoy mused, "I know you're there."
Hailee's throat worked, she wanted to snarl at him and tell him he couldn't. But Hailee doubted he would hear her —if all he did was feel her magical signature.
"My father... I know you've been dreaming about what has been happening with the prophecy —Potter, get that fucking prophecy."
Hailee's breath stuttered.