Pandora Malfoy and the Philosopher's Stone

Chapter Four: Dragon Talk

~ 8th February, 1988 ~

It was half past three in the morning, and I was hungry. Father had been in a bad mood yesterday dinner time, so I'd decided not to risk leaving my room to get food. Draco had managed to bring me up a buttered roll and some hot chocolate, but that was a long time ago, and it hadn't been very filling to start with.

I felt certain that Father would be asleep by now, so I got out of bed as slowly and quietly as I could, then started to creep down to the kitchen. But, just as I was passing the living room, I froze. The door was open slightly, and I could see Mother and Father in there. I crept closer, standing in a place that meant I could see them, but they couldn't see me.

"Lucius, she needs to know. She has a right to know."

I flinched as Father hit Mother's face with the end of his cane, the metal snake at the top of it leaving a cut. Mother took a small step backwards, but otherwise didn't react.

"She has as much right to know as you do to tell me what to do," Father said in a low voice. "That is, none."

"She will learn eventually, either way. Would you not rather—"

Father took a threatening step forwards, and Mother fell silent.

"Her eyes mean nothing. Her metamorphosis means nothing. It has not resurfaced, Narcissa. And if I find you have told her anything about it — anything at all — the consequences for both of you will be entirely your fault. Do you understand?"

For a moment, Mother stood completely still and silent, looking Father in the eye. Then, as Father raised his cane again, she bowed her head a little.

"Of course."

***

"Psst! Dray!"

Draco groaned and rolled over, pulling the bed covers over his head.

"Dray, wake up!"

"Go 'way, Dora," he mumbled sleepily, swatting me away with his hand.

"Draco, for Merlin's sake, wake up! Something interesting happened!" I pulled the covers back off his head and started shaking him a bit. "I heard Mother and Father talking—"

Draco suddenly sat straight up, fixing me with a worried look.

"He didn't catch you, did he?"

I shook my head. "No, he was facing the other way. Mother would've seen me if she turned around a small way, but she was so fixed on Father that she didn't."

Draco visibly relaxed as he heard this. Father had been getting angrier and angrier with me as I got older, and Draco was sure that at some point, that anger would make Father hurt me like he hurts Mother.

"What were they talking about?"

"I don't know, but Mother said I 'deserve to know' about something, and Father said 'it has not resurfaced'. And he said my eyes and my meta— metaform—" I sighed in frustration as I failed at pronouncing the name of my special power, then tried again. "He said my eyes and my hair colour power meant nothing. And Mother said I 'will learn eventually, either way'!" I looked at Draco excitedly. "What do you think they were talking about?"

He frowned a bit, rubbing the side of his face as he thought.

"Maybe you're a unicorn," he finally suggested, only half jokingly. "Or a dragon! You could be a dragon!"

I giggled quietly, flopping onto my back on his enormous bed and looking up at the ceiling, which had been enchanted to show the night sky.

"Why would I be a dragon, Dray?" I asked, giggling again. "It makes no sense!"

"Of course it does!" He lay down next to me on his enormous bed, pulling the covers over both of us. "Think about it, Dora. My name means dragon, maybe they thought it was me but it was actually you! And you know the Hogwarts thing is 'draco dormies nun— nunquack titilandus' or something, and Mother told us it means 'never tickle a sleeping dragon'!"

"What?"

"If I tickle you when you're asleep you either wake up quickly and get annoyed, or you stay asleep and kick me in the face or something. So that fits! And why would Mother tell us what it means if she didn't think it has something to do with us?"

"Wow... maybe I am a dragon!" I said excitedly. "But why doesn't Father want me to know? Being a dragon would be amazing!"

"Maybe he thinks you'll try to — to eat him or something," he said, and I could tell he was fully joking this time. "Maybe you can talk to dragons, or you have a pet dragon that was under the ground but now it's come up. That would mean it's resurfaced, wouldn't it?"

"Oh, maybe the Gringotts dragon!" I said excitedly, watching as a shooting star streaked across the ceiling and faded from sight. "The one by our vault! Maybe that's my pet!"

"But if it's escaped, it would say in the newspaper, and it doesn't." He sat up again, and said excitedly, "Maybe it does! Maybe it says in tomorrow's — today's — todarrow's — what time is it?"

"Something past four."

"Then today's. Maybe it's in today's newspaper! Do you think it's here yet?"

I sat up and shook my head.

"No, and if it's in today's then how would Mother and Father already know it's happened?" I sighed quietly. "Maybe it's a different dragon."

I suddenly froze as I heard footsteps on the stairs. I could tell by the way they sounded that they were Father's.

"Go back to bed!" Draco said quietly. "We'll look for the dragon in the newspaper after breakfast!"

He didn't have to tell me twice. I slipped out of his room, quickly but silently walked down the corridor, and went into my own room, making sure I didn't stand on the creaky floorboard by my door. I practically dived into bed, wincing as it made a slight scraping noise, and pulled the covers over myself. My heart was pounding.

"Well well well. Is little Pandora still awake?" I heard Father say, as the floorboard by my door creaked.

I suddenly realised my light was still on, and silently started pleading to someone — I don't even know who — that Father would just turn it off and leave, without checking if I was actually awake or not.

Click. The light went off.

Creak. That was the floorboard again.

Thud. What was that? Had Father knocked something over?

Smash! I flinched at the sound, casting around in my mind for what could've broken.

"—never liked that stupid thing—" Father muttered, and I suddenly realised that he'd more than likely broken Star, the porcelain doll I'd got for my sixth birthday. I felt tears rise up inside me, but quickly forced them back. Either Mother or Dobby would surely be able to fix her when I woke up.

Creak. Father had stood on the floorboard yet again — did that mean he was leaving?

Slam. My door was closed much more forcefully that I would ever be allowed to close it.

Father's footsteps walked away down the corridor, in the direction of his and Mother's room. I let out a shaky breath that I didn't realise I'd been holding. That had been close.

***
Word count: 1211