Disclamer: I do not own the following: 1) Harry Potter 2) The incredibly hot Draco Malfoy or 3) Cheese Puffs
Draco grinned into the wind, looking up at his manor house. Wait until he told his mother about Potter. She would spoil him sick for the next month. Unless she told father. Draco's smile quickly faded. There's no telling what Lucius would do to him for being beaten up by low-bloods and a mudblood. Shit. There goes that idea.
Draco looked into the trees surrounding his manor. There leaves were turned upside down to welcome the rain that was to pour from the sky. He suddenly felt very depressed. And cranky. When ever he was sad he became very cranky. He didn't have any friends. Not really. Crabbe and Goyle didn't really count, they were just there.
He stalked into the manor house while a huge bolt of lightning cracked overhead. He loved it when the weather matched his mood.
Narcissa floated happily to Draco's side. "Did you have a good year, dear?" she cooed sweetly. Draco glowered for a moment, but forced himself to form a small smile.
"It was all right," he managed to say somewhat cheerfully. This was news to Narcissa.
"No complaints? Everything is fine? Don't you want to invite some friends over to play?"
Draco winced. He hated it when his mother treated him like he was seven. He tried to smile more warmly, but was afraid to find it very weak. Narcissa didn't seem to notice. "No. I'm fine. Where's Father?" Draco plopped down onto a large hard velvet couch.
Narcissa smiled somewhat sadly. "Your father is in Botswana for a work project." She motioned for a house elf to pick up Draco's shoes from where he had kicked them off.
Draco frowned. "Botswana? Where the hell is Botswana?" Draco mumbled.
Narcissa moved to the kitchen where she started to get out pans. "It's in Africa, dear. And don't use that type of language."
Draco smiled to himself. Lucius would be off his back until he could think of a plausible story to feed to him. "Who's going to help us while he's gone?" Draco said following his mother into the kitchen. The people who came to help were always kind to him. He got attached to them quickly. Draco started helping his mother cut meat for supper.
Narcissia smiled at her son's effort to help. He really hated mundane activities. "No one. Only a person who is coming to help clear our record."
"What do you mean?" Draco asked suspiciously.
"We are inviting a mudblood in need to make sure that no one thinks we are discriminating against them."
That did it. Draco understood. "Where is he going to stay?" he asked grudgingly. "And when is he coming?" Draco stole a raw mushroom from the counter. He made sure te he stuck out. He was getting edgy.
"She, dear. She should be arriving very shortly. I meant to ask you to escort her home, but I daresay it slipped my mind."
Draco swallowed. Hard. "Do you know her name?" Draco managed to croak out.
Narcissia motioned to the table. "It should say in that letter."
Draco nearly killed himself running to the table. He snatched the letter from the table and read:
Dear Mrs. Malfoy,
Thank you so much for offering to take our daughter, Hermione. My
husband and I are traveling to Italy for the summer, and could not buy Her-
mione a ticket. We enclose a fifty-pound note for your troubles. We apoli-
gize for not knowing sooner.
Draco gulped. He hated it when he was right. Despite himself, he broke into a wide smile. He walked over to Narcissia and clapped his hand on her back. "Hey Mum! How long is ole Granger stayin?"
Narcissia looked at her son. She didn't think that he had ever called her Mum before. And he had surely never whacked her before. "A month or so, I believe. Possibly the whole summer."
Draco broke off grinning like a git. He collapsed into a chair, his natural high already worn off. A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. Narcissia buzzed into the hallway, motioning for Draco to follow. Draco looked frantically around the room, looking for an excuse. "I can't go yet, Mother! I need to... change first!" he hollered, dashing into his room. He collapsed onto his bed and rubbed his face. This was going to be a long summer.
A/n: Aah… sorry it's so short but I was watching Star Wars while writing it. I had to stop when Bobba Fett dies. *sniff* (I don't own Star Wars) Anyway, review!!!!