(HP) Chasing Draco

Part 2

One week later...

Andromeda was in the study when she heard the first splinter of breaking glass. She cocked her head curiously. Lady Druella's prized crystal vase, perhaps? Excellent, she had always hated that abomination. There was an earth shattering crash as something heavy hurtled down the stairs. She sincerely hoped it was her sainted Mother's armoire. Why Cissa had ever kept that horrendous thing around, she would never know.

At least Draco had impeccable taste. He always destroyed the ugliest pieces first.

The next sounds that followed from the West Wing were shouts of pure, unadulterated rage mingled with various threats and promises of a slow, unimaginable death. Merlin, she hoped Lucius had a good Shielding Charm handy...

Then again, considering what he'd done this morning, she was rather certain he deserved everything that was coming to him.

She mentally wished both the Malfoy men her very best and blithely resumed reading the Prophet.

****

Blaise was in the kitchen, nicking a sandwich from Tibby - his favourite Malfoy elf - when he heard the crash. He jumped and promptly dropped it. Tibby wheezed in apparent displeasure and Vanished the mess, setting about making him another one sandwich once.

The commotion was promptly followed up by what sounded like a dragon stepping on a hot coal. In the midst of the shouts and the death threats, Blaise could just about make out Lucius' placating tone.

"What the hell is going on up there?" he demanded.

Tibby merely sniffed and handed him the Prophet. Blaise scanned the headlines intently. By the time he was finished, he was torn between laughing... and rolling on the floor laughing until he burst a seam.

Much to Tibby's displeasure, he chose the latter. The sandwich lay forgotten on the counter.

****

Harry was in Malfoy Manor, skulking about the Grand Staircase when he heard an almighty crash. The next second, he yelped and jumped out of the way; just narrowly missing being crushed to death by an eighteenth century mahogany armoire that had been hurled down said staircase.

"Well then, guess he's seen the Prophet," he murmured to himself.

To be fair, when Lucius had sent him an owl with the Manor's Apparition coordinates he'd been taken by surprise as well. He had half suspected that the man had dropped his ridiculous ploy altogether (and no, he did not feel a smidge of disappointment at the thought, thank you very much). Then, he had seen the Prophet and... yeah. Well, never let it be said that Malfoys do anything by half.

Draco Malfoy, for example was going to viciously murder all of them by the time this was over. Harry's only consolation was that he was going to go for his father first.

Oh well. Nothing he hadn't seen before.

He shrugged, took a few, fair steps away from the Staircase of Pain and Death and waited - to meet his new fiancé or cart Lucius' mangled remains over to Saint Mungos, he wasn't quite sure which yet.

Either way, it promised to be fun. With a grin, he sauntered up the staircase.

****

Lucius Malfoy was trying to avoid having his entrails served to him on a cold platter at the time of the aforementioned crash. He watched the armoire hurtle down the stairs with a detached sort of fascination. Say what you will about Draco - the boy had flair. Once again, he tried to reason with his furious and dangerously vindictive offspring.

"This is entirely uncalled for, Draco," he drawled, dusting some fallen plaster off his robes. "I am fairly certain that Malfoy decorum frowns upon trying to murder one's sire."

"Oh I'm not going to murder you, Father," Draco hissed. "At least not until I've personally tortured you to my utter and complete satisfaction."

Lucius raised an eyebrow. "Perhaps it's a good thing you never joined the Death Eaters," he smirked. "You would have outranked us all in a year or two."

Draco snarled and pointed his wand at an old tapestry which obliged by bursting into shreds. Then he turned on his father again. "You think this is funny?" he demanded. "You dare to... you have the absolute nerve to make jokes right now?!"

"Calm down, son."

That was in hindsight, the wrong thing to say. Draco nearly imploded. "I will not calm down!" he howled, wielding a copy of the Prophet. "I will not calm down or listen to reason or any such stupid sodding thing until you explain this shite!" He ripped through the unfortunate Prophet, scanning the headlines for the announcement Lucius had personally sent to the Editor last night.

"Malfoy heir chooses Mystery Suitor," Draco spat, reading out loud from the page. "It appears that the wait is finally over. In a surprising turn of events, Lucius Malfoy has announced that his son and heir to the Malfoy fortune, Draco Abraxas Malfoy, has finally - we repeat, finally - chosen a worthy suitor. The identity of Malfoy's Mystery Lover has not been revealed yet, resulting in wide scale speculations. "Could be that bass player from the Weird Sisters," said Astoria Greengrass, a close personal friend of the Malfoys. "Assuming of course that they took care of that pecker shrinking hex Draco used on him last year." Lucius Malfoy did not comment, stating only that his son had 'chosen well and had done the family name proud.' The younger Malfoy who is publicly known for leaving strings of broken hearts (and limbs) in his wake was unavailable for comment, immediately sparking rumours of elopement. Lucius Malfoy went on to put these rumours to rest, citing that the young couple merely wished for some privacy before making their courtship public (a Prophet exclusive, coming soon!). This reporter speculates a story like never before. Just who is the mysterious stranger who snagged the heart of our resident Ice Prince? Do you have a lucky guess? Write in to the Prophet at..."

"Yes, yes I read that tripe, no need to repeat it," Lucius drawled. "That Skeeter wench really likes to milk it, doesn't she?"

Draco was reaching new and previously unseen levels of apoplectic. "You're on thin fucking ice!" he bellowed. "You have exactly ten seconds to explain what the hell this is all about before I... I..." His eyes darted around the room wildly, landing on an ancient fourteenth century, two thousand page manuscript that had been in the family for generations.

"Honestly," Lucius sighed, deflecting the book easily as it made a beeline for his frontal cortex. "You're just like your mother."

"Mother wouldn't have fed you your own intestines," Draco sneered. "Which is precisely what I'm going to do if you don't tell me the name of the sorry bastard you're trying to shove down my throat this time!"

"Ah, of course. I imagine you're eager to meet your fiancé."

"I don't have a fiancé!" Draco snarled. "What I have is a Father who doesn't know when to quit and a potential murder trial!" His eyes narrowed to slits as he glared at his unimpressed, and somewhat amused sire. "And Merlin as my witness, when I'm done with you, I'm going after the poor sod you dragged into your crazy scheme and I'm going to make him suffer!"

"How delightful," Lucius smirked. "By happy coincidence, he's downstairs waiting for you. I'll tell him where to find you, shall I?" He turned on his heel and exited, ignoring Draco's howl of outrage. A belated thought crossed his mind and he turned back to face his simmering son. "Oh and if I haven't said it already, Draco... congratulations."

He barely made it out the door before the vase shattered inches from where his head had been a second ago.

Potter was outside, leaning languidly against a wall as he eavesdropped blatantly. He smirked at Lucius as the older man straightened his robes. "Problem?" he enquired dryly.

Lucius smirked back. "Your problem," he drawled. "Good luck, young man."

He allowed himself a chuckle as he turned and left, his footsteps echoing across the hall.