'services' on the evening of their Graduation Ball.
Intriguing thought, that. Perhaps the golden girl of Gryffindor girl was corruptible after all. Perhaps, with a bit of a nudge, he would be able to-
"Um, Malfoy," Granger chose then to whisper, interrupting Draco's musings.
He stood a little straighter on the Manor doorstep, and looked down his nose at her. "I don't think anyone's coming to answer the door." She reached out to pull on the silver-braided door chime for a second time, when he stopped her by holding up his hand.
Presently, there was a soft, scrambling at the latch on the other side of the carved oak doors, which swung open to reveal a gnarled, old house elf, dressed in a pink patchwork tea cosy.
The creature gasped, took one moist-eyed look at Draco, and promptly flung itself at him. "Master Draco is home! Oh! Toolip is so happy!"
With a bit of a grimace, Draco (and attached house elf) stepped forward.
"Good to see you again, Toolip," Draco said, not unkindly. He patted the creature on her kelp-coloured head, as his eyes quickly scanned the empty foyer.
It was cool, dark and dusty inside the manor, exactly the way Draco remembered it. Sunlight made a valiant effort at pushing through the grime-covered windows. A few muted beams of light fell onto the black marble floor, minute spotlights showcasing the movement of dust through the air. There was no furniture, but there were plenty of empty, wooden crates lined alongside the curving staircase.
"And Master Draco is bringing a young Miss!" Toolip the house elf turned to greet Granger, who seemed to be wholly occupied gawking at the cavernous foyer. The elf dropped into a perfect, low curtsy, arthritic old joints seemingly forgotten. "Welcome to Manor Malfoy, Miss."
Granger blinked down at the beaming creature.
Draco rolled his eyes. The sooner she closed her gaping mouth and shoved her eyeballs back into their sockets, the sooner they could confer with Lucius.
"The house won't bite," said Draco, removing his cloak and handing it to Toolip.
Hermione recovered long enough to scowl at him.
"Though it might spit you out," he added, with a humourless snort.
At this, she gave him a startled look, but managed to step past the threshold and into the cool marble of the foyer.
"Where is my father?" Draco asked Toolip. The house elf was currently staring at Draco's wrinkled robes with intense disapproval.
"Master Lucius is in the study," Toolip informed, her squeaky voice becoming instantly squeakier. "Is you wishing to see him now?"
"Yes, don't want to prolong the inevitable, do we?" Draco shot Hermione a sardonic smile and extended an arm to her, which she predictably ignored.
With Toolip leading the way, Draco walked ahead, and noted that for once that Hermione seemed to have no objections at trailing behind.
**
They simply didn't make pureblood wizards like Lucius anymore.
It wasn't so much to do with a diluting of the stock, rather than a gradual abandonment of the old ways; when whipping had been a customary disciplinary practice in the home, when offspring were made to commit to memory the lengthy codes of family conduct, specifying anything from how to sit a horse, to how best to placate a disgruntled mistress.
There was an innate elegance to the elder Malfoy that Draco knew he hadn't quite acquired as yet. Lucius was a lot like Snape, in that respect. Whatever could be said about their Potions Professor, the man moved like ink in water.
Lucius was similar, only more vital and more potent. And there was also the fact that while Snape's motives were sometimes ambiguous, the world now knew Lucius Malfoy to be scum of the worst sort. Despite the fact that a wizard with a confiscated wand was about as well regarded as a Knockturn Alley prostitute, Lucius was still not a man to be trifled with.
Enter one Hermione Granger, whose marrying into the Malfoy name likely qualified as trifling of the highest order, particularly if she ever considered holding out on an annulment in exchange for a hefty financial incentive. Though Draco thought he knew her well enough to rule that possibility out.
Granger wasn't interested in money. She was strange like that.
For the past three years, it was Draco who set aside the Galleons required for food and other necessities at Malfoy Manor. Lucius might have been penniless, but his son was far from it. Draco received a generous monthly stipend taken from the massive inheritance his grandfather, Julius, had left him. In addition, his mother sent him the odd lump sum