LES ETOILES [HARRY POTTER- DRACO/HARRY]

ONE

CHAPTER ONE

DRACO

The wooden, ornate grandfather clock struck the hour.

It clanged, ringing and reverberating it's low and proud voice across the carpeted prison of deep green lustrous drapery over grand windows.

The Malfoy Manor was in no less worthy of the term coined to be a handsome house. It was surrounded by elaborate gardens, including the fountain. Mrs Malfoy liked to entertain herself during the day by walking through yards of lush fields and admire the colours that exploded from every direction. She had maintained everything to it's utmost perfection and admired it from the murky windows inside her manor- her pride and joy.

There was a single willow tree in the middle with weeping catkins spread around the edges. The flower-bordered the tree, in which the daffodils were now fading and the tulips were opening their cups, spilling out colour. The tulips were red, a darker crimson towards the stem as if they had been cut and were beginning to heal there.

The garden was her domain as if was one of the only places she could sit without any disturbance from her son or her husband. She would have her knees on a cushion, her blonde head hidden under her wide gardening hat, a basket at her side with shears in it and pieces of string for tying the flowers into place. She would hum old wizard lullabies her mother, Druella, used to sing to her as she flicked her wand and put the shears to work, snipping at the stems of the roses to prepare them to be put in the obsidian vase that occupied the living room.

Her sister, Bellatrix, would often remark about how she was stupid to do all the work. There were house elves for that. But Mrs Malfoy was adamant. She felt as if putting herself to work made her feel productive, useful. She wanted the smell of the turned earth, feel the plump shapes of bulbs held in the hands, fullness, the dry rustle of seeds through the fingers. Bellatrix often ridiculed her for it, saying she was acting like a stupid little Hufflepuff for actually enjoying Herbology but now that she was long and gone, Mrs Malfoy carried on with her work with no hassle.

The interior of Malfoy Manor had characteristics of being dimly lit and sumptuously decorated, with a magnificent carpet imported from Italy covering the stone floor. The walls of the entrance hall display pale-faced portraits lining the walls, and at the end of the hall were two sets of oak doors with bronze handles that led to the drawing room.

The drawing room was a widely proportioned room. It had a long ornate table with a handsome, marble mantelpiece and a gilded mirror which has an intricately scrolled frame on top. The dark purple walls featured more portraits of Malfoy ancestors through the years and a new crystal chandelier- marginally smaller than the original one which had fallen after that blasted house elf Dobby destroyed- hung and winked like a star in the darkest night.

A boy with fair hair stood in the middle of it all, his tense eyes shifting across the stifling room, memorizing each detail as if it would soon dissolve into a room choked with men and women in thick long black cloaks, mingling upon themselves and quiet laughter but the main attention would be zeroed on the figure sitting at the head of the table. The figure resembled a humanoid but his face said otherwise- a bleached white face with a flat nose and slit red eyes. The boy blinked away the image, shaking it out of his head.

He reviled the room that promised such fickle protection, giving the inhabitant no reason to fear for anything that could penetrate these walls and enchantments. Then the boy let out a little scoff. He was being ridiculous. The Dark Lord was dead.

All the while, he was unaware of the sudden, fresh set of eyes that were trained with care upon him. The opening of the door had been silent, as the thickness of the grandfather clock parlour absorbed any intrusive sounds. The purposeful clearing of a throat caught the fair boy's attention, bringing back the quickened, paranoid pulse. He was more aware of the slight jump within his body. Immediate warmth spilt in his cheeks.