The Girl Who Lived (Draco Malfoy x OC)

The Leviathan of Serpents

September 26th 1997

Draco yawned as he reclined further back on his ostentatious lounge. He was in his bedrooms adjoining parlour, flipping through the most recent edition of Fantasy Quidditch and marking what players he wanted on his pretend team. His feet were drawn up on the dark-wooden coffee table, resting right beside a lit vanilla candle. A small smirk drew on his lips as he realised he had the points to recruit Kende Dominik from the Hungarian Quidditch team onto his fantasy team. He was surely going to beat Nott's lineup this week.

The low-hanging chandelier above him oddly rattled for a millisecond, as if a door slammed down the hall or someone had used bombarda elsewhere in the manor. He didn't think anything of it, reaching for his glass of whiskey to find it empty. It moved the slightest bit to the right as another tremor went through his quarters. This time he frowned, was his mother knocking down walls?

A loud pop of air surprised him, making him flinch. He turned to see their house-elf Salkey appear.

"Ah, brilliant timing," he chimed, "I've just finished my whisk-"

"Master, Mistress Narcissa requests you join them in the drawing room immediately."

Draco's faint smile diminished and he straightened. "Why?"

"Salkey believes Mistress has guests," he said before turning on the spot and disappearing.

He narrowed his eyes with suspicion, closing his Fantasy Quidditch magazine and slowly fixing his attire. He wasn't in a hurry to join his mother. Though it was always his father's guests who were of the Death Eater and Dark Art's kind. His mother most likely summoned family members. Draco didn't know what was worse.

Exhaling a lengthy sigh, he descended the manor to the drawing room, noting how still everything seemed to be. The home was quiet this evening, it wasn't often their household was devoid of Death Eater's or minions lately. It left him feeling rather put off, like darkness was brewing. He could only fear what they were really up to in the time they weren't here. That was the only thing that ever made Draco tolerate the Dark Lord's presence. When the Dark Lord was here, it meant Harper was out there, safe and away from him.

As far as he knew, anyway.

Thick, grey clouds loomed outside the windows. Draco allowed his eyes to stare out one as he passed. Soon it would begin sprinkling, and soon that sprinkling would turn into a torrential downpour. As did everything in his life lately. The coldness seemed to seep through the tall glass windows, sending a chill up his skin. He stopped focusing on the unnatural darkness of the afternoon to realise he could hear unrecognizable voices coming from the drawing room ahead. They didn't... sound like family.

As he reached the large archway, he was absolute that they weren't family at all. One's voice was so thick with an accent there was no way these 'guests' were good news. As he noted the glottal stops in the man's voice, he entered to see his father looking happy for once and the company of strange, unkempt men. They seemed to sense his presence, turning to eye him. He recognized one immediately, the gruesome Fenrir Greyback. Beside him was the loud mouth, smirking smugly, joined by a few others. What business did these thugs have in his family home? They looked like low-end Death Eater's, ones who weren't even honoured with the Dark Mark.

Then his mother turned around to see him, looking unnerved. "Ah, there you are. Draco, come here," she gestured.

He walked into the room, some of the underdressed scum moving aside to reveal the subject of attraction in the drawing room.

He froze.

Like he was in a shower of black ice.

It was her.