Hello, hello!This is my first HP story that I've done, and considering that I only own half the books, please forgive me if some of my facts are off…not that this is based on many facts, but still. This story takes place after the sixth year at Hogwarts but before the seventh. And as for the epic battle that happened during the sixth year, I've taken that out. I'd like Dumbledore to be alive for this story. I hope that's not a problem, as well as that the characters are out of character…adds to the overall comedy. In fact, they're very OOC…just warning ya. So, enough of my ramblings, let's get on with the show!
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Harry Potter characters…not even the oh-so-evil Voldemort…*sighs* looks like my dreams of world domination are shot…
Breakfast in Bad Company
Draco was lying on his bed, watching as the morning sun slowly lit his room. It was the first day of the summer break and he was looking forward to some rest and relaxation…if he could escape his father's insistence on him becoming a Death Eater. He hadn't told his father that he had no plans on becoming one; he'd only forestalled answering the question.
"Well boy, gonna make me a proud father of a Death Eater some day, eh?" Lucius said with a broad smile on his face, clapping Draco very hard on the back as he sat at the kitchen table eating dinner.
Draco spluttered and choked on his mother's tuna casserole. When he'd finally controlled himself, he couldn't bring his eyes up to meet his fathers.
"Um…I…I gotta go and um…sort out my underwear," he said quickly and ran up the stairs to his room.
Lucius stared at his empty spot for a moment, then shouted over his shoulder to his retreating son, "What are you talking about, you don't have that many!" Draco acted like he hadn't heard him.
Last year's Christmas break
"Hey Draco, wanna go hunt for some mudbloods with your ole' pops? I'll even let you do Avada Kedavra," Lucius cajoled, saying that last bit as though giving his son a tantalizing offer.
Draco looked down at the essay he had to do for his Potions class. "Father, I have holiday homework to finish," he said in a can't-you-see-I'm-busy sort of way.
Lucius strode over to the desk in his son's room and snatched the parchment away, ripping it in his hands.
"What the hell's wrong with you?!" Draco screamed, jumping out of his chair to face his father. "I was doing that!" He pointed to the bits of paper littering the floor.
"Well now you're doing something else!" Lucius said in the same bright tone, grabbing Draco's arm and pulling him out of his bedroom.
Draco tried fighting the tight grip but it was useless. He never did have much strength, one of the reasons he'd often considered taking muggle steroids. But as a Slytherin, he had cunningness on his side. Pulling a Puking Pastille out of his pocket, he downed it quickly. Seconds later, the effects of the candy took hold of him and he vomited on the steps.
"Whoa!" Lucius yelled, backing away before any landed on him. He looked up at his son who was several steps above him. Draco swayed where he stood, green in the face. His father sighed. "I guess you can't come mudblood hunting with me then. Damn, and it's no fun when you do it by yourself either! I had planned for us to take out that stupid Granger girl too, that way she'd never beat you in grades again!" Lucius looked like a sulking child, talking to his still nauseous son.
Draco only blinked drowsily at him, then waved his wand and muttered "Scourgify" and vanished away his pool of sick. Turning around, he lumbered up the steps. When he reached the second landing between the second and third floors of the house, he pulled another candy out of his pocket and ate it. It countered the first pastille and very quickly his health returned.
But his essay did not. Grumbling about his father's stupidity, he went to rewrite it again.
Back to the present
No, Lucius Malfoy would not let up on the issue, and considering this was the last summer he would be spending at home, there was almost no doubt that Draco would have to answer the question soon, either become a Death Eater, or death.
Downstairs he heard the front door open and a cheery, happy voice greeted someone. Except for his father's ecstatic episodes (only when Death Eater matters were involved), no one in his family even knew what the word happy meant.
Against his desires to go back to sleep, he got out of bed and quickly threw some clothes on, human curiosity winning out. Probably just another member of the Voldemort fan club, he thought with a frown.
Leaning over the railing on the second floor, he could see the tops of his mother's and father's heads. A third person stood out of view, whispering to his parents. When they had shifted out of the way, the sight of a very familiar head of messy black hair slapped him in the face.
"POTTER?!" Draco roared.
Harry looked up to see him. "Oh, hello Draco. We thought you were still asleep."
"Don't 'hello' me!" Draco yelled, coming down the stairs. He stopped in front of Harry and tried to pull out his want from his waistband…only to feel nothing in its place. He'd left it upstairs.
Harry chuckled at the flustered look on his face. "Don't worry, I'm not here to hex anyone. I'm here to sign an official truce between me and Voldemort—" Lucius violently shuddered at the name and Narcissa put a hand up to her forehead and gasped, "Help me Jesus!" Harry cast them a glance and continued.
"It's not like he wants to do this, but the Ministry is making him. Law has it that you can't duel underage wizards. So, until the 31st of July, Voldemort has to swear he won't attack me anymore."
Draco looked more confused than when his parents had tried to explain sex to him. "So, what, Voldemort's just going to comply with this? You two are going to sign a piece of paper and you really believe he's just gonna call off the hounds from you?" He gave a derisive laugh. "No, you Gryffindor's never were the smart ones."
Harry gave an indignant look and was about to reply when Mrs. Malfoy interrupted him. "Right this way, Harry dear! He-Who-Should-Not-Be-Named is in the drawing room." She ushered the Boy-Who-Lived into a room down the hallway, her husband trailing her.
Draco considered if he should follow. Voldemort was right there in his living room. The Dark Lord was in his living room, in his house! It was like a nightmare come true. Then his mother's words hit him. "Harry dear?! Ugh!" He decided he should go, at least to do some chaos control. There was no way Voldemort was going to agree amicably to this.
When he entered, Harry, his mother and his father were scrunched on the couch. The Minister of Magic sat in an armchair and Voldemort sat across from him in another, draped in his customary hooded black robe. Draco figured it was best to stay by the doorway, remembering he hadn't brought his wand with him.
"On this 1st day of June, I hereby decree that the dueling between one Harry James Potter and one…er, He-Who-Should-Not-Be-Named/Lord Voldemort/the Dark Lord/ Funk Master Def…or was that supposed to be death?" The Minister stopped reading the contract in front of him and glanced up at Voldemort.
"It's Def," he assured him.
The Minister raised his eyebrows but continued, "That the dueling is halted until Harry James Potter is of the legal age of 17 on the 31st of July. Sign here please," he passed the paper to Voldemort and handed him a quill.
The Dark Lord glanced at it and sighed. "Do I have to?" he complained.
"Now, now, Thomas—" The Minister began, but was quickly cut off.
"Do NOT call me my human name! It's either one of the names listed here or nothing at all!" Voldemort screamed, pointing at the treaty. "In fact, I'm starting to like Funk Master Def better than the others. Yes, call me that from now on," he said with a pleased smile on his horridly snake-like face.
"Um…right, but yes, you do have to sign the contract, um…Funk Master Def…" the Minister said, pressing the paper closer to him.
With another sigh, Funk Master Def signed the paper and passed it across the coffee table to Harry. "Just one last hex?" he asked the Minister. The other man shook his head and the Dark Lord's shoulders drooped.
Harry signed the paper with a flourish, then stood up and stretched. "Well Voldy, guess I'll be seeing you around," he said with a slick smile on his face. At least for a month he could walk down the street without worrying about being jumped by the man.
Everyone else stood up as well. "Actually, Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy have invited me to stay for breakfast," Voldemort informed him with another hideous smile.
Both Draco and Harry spluttered. "What?!" they said at the same time, turning to the older Malfoys. Narcissa nodded.
"Yes, it's been so long since anyone's stayed for a meal. It's good to have company again, now that this Death Eater business is on hold," She said as she headed to the kitchen to start cooking. "Oh, and Minister, you're welcome to stay as well," She called over her shoulder.
Draco moved into the living room and everyone sat down again. They formed somewhat of a circle, with Harry and Lucius still on the couch, Voldemort and the Minister in armchairs, and Draco taking a similar seat off to the side of them. A silence descended and no one knew what to say.
"Don't everyone talk at once," Voldemort muttered with a small chuckle.
For a while, still nobody spoke. Finally, Harry turned to Draco and said, "So, what team do you think is going to win the Quidditch Cup this year?"
The adults breathed a sigh of relief at the start of this conversation and got on well with one another talking about sports until Mrs. Malfoy called them to the table.
Draco found it surreal that he was sitting at the dining table with none other than the Minister of Magic, the Dark Lord, and the Golden Boy Gryffindor, all eating breakfast in his house as though this was natural. Harry was sitting next to him with the Minister across from The-Boy-Who-Lived; Voldemort sat across from Draco with Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy sitting at the heads of the table.
"Please pass the marmalade," Voldemort asked Draco. With shaking fingers, the boy pushed the jar to him, and then quickly pulled his hand back as though the glass had burned him.
He could only stare at everyone else as they ate, wondering why the hell was everyone acting so calm, and despite the weirdness of it all, he hoped it wouldn't change. He preferred this over the constant Death Eater conversations that had ruled his life and when Voldemort asked him to pass the salt, he did so this time with pleasure.
So there it is, the first chapter! Again, I know that this was very…off. Sort of can't resist going a bit crazy with the first few chapters of a story :) They'll even out though as this progresses. Reviews and constructive criticism is always welcome as well!