The House-Whisperer

Wards and Curses

Harry landed silently in the shadows of the room and signalled to the house elf next to him not to make a noise. He cast a Disillusionment Charm, just in case. He immediately placed a hand on the wall next to him and felt the Manor vibrate with anger. He understood these things now. It was his speciality. He was always asked to lead the jobs where covert entry into buildings needed his helping hand. Not that this occasion was work despite being dressed in his work attire, it was the answer to a call for help from the young elf next to him. As he touched the wall, he also took in his unfamiliar surroundings. The room smelt of deep honey-toned aftershave, old books, and firewhiskey; surprisingly manly considering the décor. He'd always wondered what this room would look like. He couldn't deny he was surprised, he'd always supposed it would be garishly 'Slytherin'. He thought that normally it must feel very serene with its soft dusky-blue and charcoal-grey colour scheme. Thankfully, the lighting was intimately low, casting deep shadows, otherwise it would have been a rather awkward entrance.

He felt a ripple of frustration under his fingertips and tried to sooth the old stonework. He could feel that there was more than anger stirring in its walls: there were centuries of darkness and tension. And anxiety. There was also confusion about how this stranger had got through the Wards without the alarms sounding. Harry knew the confusion wouldn't last long and eventually the alarm would be sounded. He muttered a spell and felt the soul of the Manor fall into a temporary meditative state, not quite asleep, but certainly calmer, trance-like.

He wished the spell would work on him. Currently, his anger was welling up inside him uncontrollably but he knew he couldn't reveal himself yet, not in what was obviously already a volatile situation.

'You are a disgrace to the Malfoy name,' Narcissa snarled quietly at her son. She stood nose-to-nose with him, her fury crackled about the room. 'Your behaviour disgusts me. You think that it is permissible for a Malfoy heir to behave like Lady Chatterley, caught with his pants down with another man, and with a muggle stable-hand ... of all people?' She wore a long taffeta evening gown of garish green which accentuated her pale skin, her livid red lips, and her neatly coifed black and white hair. She clashed with everything about this room. Harry wondered if there were guests downstairs, if there were some occasion happening.

'What I do in my spare time is none of your concern.' Draco's appearance had certainly taken Harry by surprise, he was dressed in muggle clothing; some indecently-tight black ripped jeans and a loose white shirt, it rather suited him.

'Oh, but it is my concern, dear boy. Do you not understand what I've sacrificed to get us to this point after your fool of a father nearly ruined this family and its future? I had to lie to the Dark Lord, I had to risk my life for you, I had to stand in front of the Wizengamot and profess Merlin-knows-what for you, and I did it for one reason, one reason only ... do you not understand that you only have one purpose in this life? You were born to produce a pure-blood heir, to protect and continue the greatest name in Wizarding history. Instead you prefer to stick your horrid little cock in places it doesn't belong.'

Harry was deeply disappointed: he'd defended this woman. Gone was the contrite woman full of sorrow for her actions, who had denounced her husband's actions and sobbed in front of the court. He watched as Draco coolly turned away from his mother and walked across the room to his dresser where he picked up a crystal tumbler filled with ice and whisky.

'You know you will be punished for this,' she stated matter-of-factly.

'What did you do with Wilhelm?'

'Who is Wilhelm? Oh, you mean that whimpering little creature who thought he was worthy to lavish his attention on you,' she sneered. 'Well, he's currently enjoying a new life in our garden as a slug. It is rather unfortunate for him that the gardeners have just been generously treating the flowerbeds with slug pellets.'