Andromeda straightened Ted’s tie as they waited for the lift in the Ministry Lobby. They had already jumped through a not insignificant amount of hoops to get to the point where they were now. They had filled out the paperwork with extremely intrusive questions, they had let Charity Burbage and the worker she was training into their home, and now they were here, summoned by owl, to see if they had been approved to be her nephew’s guardian.

The process, from start to finish, had taken four days.

Andromeda fussed with the jaunty little cap she’d donned this morning. She didn’t know why she bothered. She wasn’t going to impress the boy if they were here to pick him up. He would be the proper little pureblood automaton that his parents raised. He wouldn’t appreciate any of the work they had put in to house him, nor would he be content in their small cottage.

She had been to Malfoy Manor as a teen. She remembered just how opulent and grand it was. Their little cottage set outside a small wooded area, the practical rooms, and the little garden she kept, would seem mean compared to what he was used to.

She almost wished she hadn’t said they would do this. Ted just didn’t know how hateful these people could be. She had always protected him from them.

“It’ll be alright, Dear.” Ted said as he clasped her hand. The doors to the lift whisked open, spilling out Ministry workers and visitors. Once the human tide had stopped, they entered the cubicle. Ted pressed the floor that led to Magical Law Enforcement, and tucked her hand into the crook of his arm.

They presented themselves at the office of Family and Children, and were escorted into Charity Burbage's office. Once pleasantries were exchanged, they all sat. "Mr and Mrs Tonks, thank you for coming in today, " Miss Burbage smiled, " there are a few formalities to deal with, but I'm pleased to tell you that you've been approved as temporary legal guardians of Draco Malfoy."

Andromeda looked over at her husband, who looked extraordinarily pleased at the news. She knew he loved their daughter beyond measure, but...they had meant to have more children, and she knew he'd wanted a son, even though he'd never said it aloud. He’d had a close relationship ith his own father, and although he and Nym were very close, she knew he wished for a son. This was the nearest they were going to come, she supposed, at least until Nym married and maybe gave them a grandson. If she even did, given her chosen profession. Andromeda put on her warmest smile and reached for Ted's hand, determined to make the best of this. "We're so happy to hear this, Miss Burbage, she said, "we're looking forward to getting to know our nephew better."

Miss Burbage smiled widely, picked up several pieces of parchment and said," There are a few things to go over first, and your signatures will be required. This.." She handed them one of the pieces of parchment, "Outlines the expectations of you both, as guardians. Please read through it. You'll both need to sign at the bottom. This is a magically binding contract, violation of which will carry penalties which may include a sentence to Azkaban, depending on the severity of the violation." She smiled benignly and added, " no offence intended, of course, but precautionary measures must be taken in regard to the health, well-being, and safety of all minor children."

"Of course, " Andromeda and Ted murmured in unison.

"This," Miss Burbage continued, passing another piece of parchment to them, "outlines the compensation you will receive for taking your nephew in, housing, feeding, clothing him, purchasing school supplies and the like. All families who take in children receive compensation for expenditures toward said child. You will sign the bottom indicating you've read and understood the document."

Another piece of parchment, and Miss Burbage said, "Lastly, this document concerns non-disclosure. What that means is that you agree to never discuss, should the occasion arise, anything pertaining to Draco, with reporters and the like. As a minor child, his right to privacy must be strictly observed. Unfortunately, due to his parents' social standing, their arrests have generated quite the scandal, and this must in no way involve Draco."

"Of course not" Ted answered for both of them, Andromeda nodding her agreement.

Miss Burbage smiled and said, "Very well. Please take your time reading through the documents, feel free to ask any questions, and then sign at the bottom when you're satisfied you understand and agree."

Miss Burbage sat back and allowed them time to peruse each document, and then they both signed the bottoms with the quill and ink she provided.

"Now then," Miss Burbage said, "I will inform Draco he is to be placed with you, help him pack his things, and bring him to you this afternoon. May I suggest tea time? That way we can ease him into his new situation. I will, of course, stay a bit to smooth the way, and then you'll begin your life with Draco after I depart. Is this agreeable to you both?"

Andromeda and Ted exchanged a smile and Andromeda said, "Yes, we think that will work out just fine."

"Excellent," Miss Burbage said."Then, shall we say about 2 pm?"

"We're looking forward to it," Andromeda said.

They made their goodbyes and exited the Family and Children wing, returning to the Ministry Lobby. Andromeda, who had been silent until then, turned and put her hand on her husband's arm. "Ted, you go ahead home. I've just remembered a small errand I must run. I won't be long."

"Alright, Dear," he replied, leaning forward to brush her cheek. "I'll roust Dora out and make sure she's presentable."

Andromeda laughed and said, "Good luck there."

She watched him disappear into the floo, and then turned back toward the lifts. The holding cells were on the level of the courtrooms, in the bottom levels of the Ministry according to the very large directory near the lifts. Andromeda felt a flutter of anticipatory dread as she pushed the floor number. She didn’t want to admit why she was making this trip. Cissy had been lost to her for thirty years.

The lift stopped several times before reaching the level she had pushed and she excused herself as she threaded through the crowded car. She consulted the directory once more and took off in the opposite direction of the courtrooms.

She waited at the elevated desk for the duty Auror to notice her. She felt small as she peered up at the young man in the smart red robes. He wrote something for a few moments and then looked up, his gaze assessing as he asked, “Here to see a prisoner?”

“Yes.” Andy answered, clutching her handbag tightly with her fingers. Tension arced through her as she thought of why she was there.

Taking up his quill and pulling a large book from under the desk. He flipped through pages and pages, stopping near the back of the book with a small grunt. “Name?”

“Andromeda Tonks.”

“No.” He huffed in exasperation. “Prisoner’s name?”

Andy was normally not given to nervous outbursts, but an involuntary nervous laugh escaped her as she answered. “Oh, right. Narcissa Malfoy., please.”

The Auror tsked quietly and flipped back a page in the book. He muttered as he ran a finger down the page, “Malfoy, Narcissa, prisoner 185701. Yes. She has been cleared for visitors. You will need to surrender your wand and bag now, Madam Tonks.”

Andy slid it out of her handbag, not relishing the idea of being without it, but handed it to the man, then gave him her purse. He produced a slip of paper that appeared out of the air after he vanished her items. In a bored tone he said, ”You’ll need that paper to claim your effects after your visit. There will be no physical contact. Wandless magic is not allowed. Any and all packages that you may have for the prisoner must be left here. The prisoner will get their package after it has been checked for contraband. Wait behind that line over there. An officer will be out to escort you to a visiting area. You will have ten minutes with the prisoner. Don’t ask for more.”

She waited for the better part of an hour before a large wizard appeared from behind the bars of the holding cells. He was a portly man dressed in a black uniform with no robes, with shoes that were shined to a mirror polish, and a cudgel that hung at his side off a leather belt.

He opened the metal barred portal with an old-fashioned skeleton key that shimmered with magical spells that were woven into the metal itself. “Step through, Madam and hold your arms out.”

Andromeda did as she was told, waiting while he ran a wand around her body, pausing over her shin over an old break that had been repaired when she was a child. Once done, he stowed his wand once again in the holster attached to his wrist. “This way, Madam.”

He led her down a grim grey hallway composed of brick, painted over until the shape of the bricks themselves had softened and become obscured. They stopped at a darker grey door with riveted seams of sheet metal. “You will have ten minutes. If you feel the need to leave before that time, I will be just outside the door. I have to advise you that the room is equipped with recording spells. Any admissions by the prisoner or you can and will be used in the trial.”

“I understand.” Andromeda nodded as the nervousness that had been fluttering in her belly rose to her heart, which now pounded in her ears.

He opened the door and Andromeda went in.

Narcissa was seated at a small, roughly made, rectangular table. Her wrists were bound before her. She wore a rough muslin shift that was several sizes too big for her. Her platinum hair was slightly tangled at the ends and her delicate features were pinched in an expression of fear. She moved her gaze to Andromeda’s face and her features hardened to an obdurate version of hauteur. Andy knew that expression well. It had been taught to all of the Black sisters when they were facing an unpleasant situation.

Andromeda took the seat across from her without speaking. She waited for her sister to begin. After a few beats of her heart, Narcissa asked, “To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit, Madam Tonks?”

“I came to let you know that your son will be staying with my family until…well…” Andromeda faltered as she saw her sister’s carefully crafted mask slip at the mention of her son. Compassion for the mother that her sister was, made her ask, “How are you faring, Cissy?”

Narcissa lifted her chin and looked away.

"Yes, "Andromeda said, "I can't imagine this is easy on you. I know you're worried about your son, Cissy. Truth be told, I'm a bit worried myself. We were raised together, you and I, but we've walked different paths since then. Still, we are both mothers, with children we love more than anything. Ted isn't Lucius, but he's a good man, Narcissa. I know you don't believe that, I know you think he's somehow less because he's Muggleborn. He may not espouse the pureblood beliefs your husband does, but there are some things that transcend blood status. Things like morality, a pure heart, a sense of wrong and right, a genuine caring for other people."

She stopped and looked at her proud and haughty sister. They had been close once, when they were young. They'd shared a love of art, of creating, something that was just theirs. Then somewhere along the way, their parents, and particularly Bella's ranting, had turned Cissy away, filled her head with nonsense, turned her into this cold, icicle of a woman before her.
But Andromeda was sure that Narcissa loved her son, her expression when she had first mentioned him confirmed it, so she pressed on.

"He'll be safe with us, Cissy," she assured her sister, "even at school. Dumbledore has offered Ted the Muggle Studies professor position, and he's accepted, so we'll be able to keep watch over Draco at school as well. I think you know as well as I do how his fellow Slytherins will be treating him, as a pariah. Their parents will warn them away from him, saying he can't be trusted, but we'll be there for him. Don't worry."

"S- Severus Snape," Narcissa said faintly "he..well, he's always looked out for Dr-Draco.."

Andromeda nodded and said "We'll have a word with him. He was my daughter's Potions Professor. We've met him briefly before. Nym is an Auror in training, she'll also keep Draco safe." Narcissa finally turned to look at her again though she didn't speak. Andromeda, seeing a wave of unspoken emotion in her sister's blue eyes, reached out to grasp her hand, but quickly pulled back, remembering the no contact rule.

"Cissy," she said kindly, "no matter what distance the years and our choices have put between us, you are, and always will be, my sister. I would never harm your child, my nephew. I promise you, he will be safe and cared for while he is with us."

Andromeda watched her sister bite her bottom lip, a childhood habit to keep it from quivering, a sign of weakness Bella would pounce on every time.

Cissy took a deep breath and said in a raspy voice full of the tears she would not let fall, "Be..be patient with him. D-don't be too...hard on him. He can be....belligerent..at times, he..."

Andromeda nodded her head, understanding what her sister was getting at.

"Ted is the most patient, kindest man on earth," she said quietly, locking her brown eyes with her sister's blue, "he has a way with children. He and our Nym are very close."

She watched the look of relief come up in Cissy's eyes and knew she understood. They sat there looking at one another for a few minutes until the guard entered to say time was up. Andromeda stood, looking down at her sister who suddenly seemed very small again.

"They're bringing him to our home this afternoon. I'll give him your love." She watched Narcissa bite her lip again as she nodded.

Andromeda turned to go, and was nearly out the door when she heard Cissy say quietly, "Thank you, Andy."

***

Draco and Harry were again sat across the chessboard from one another, locked in fierce battle for the game. Draco was winning, a fact he was happy with since Potty had proved to be a better player than anticipated, surprisingly. There was no way the bespectacled boy could beat him this time, and Draco gloated silently as Potter made his final reluctant move, allowing Draco to exclaim with a laugh, "Checkmate!"

"Yeah, alright," Potter muttered, adding in a bored tone, "Go again?"

"While winning has its merits, Potter, especially over you....no."

"Good," Potter replied, obviously relieved. "This is kind of boring."

Draco agreed, and they packed away the set. He assumed his seat again "Now what?"

"Good question, " Potter replied, resting his chin on his folded arms. "I don't think they thought this through."

"What do you usually do during summer hols?" Draco asked.

"Go to the Weasleys', play Quidditch with Ron and his brothers, just...stuff. What do you do?" Potter picked at a small hole in the knee of his trousers.

"Travel, sometimes to the seaside, sometimes France," Draco shrugged, "if we stay home, sometimes I take lessons..."

"Lessons?" Potter said with a snort.

"Yes, lessons," Draco said, " fencing, archery. It never hurts to broaden your mind, Potter, and fencing is a form of duelling. Both fencing and archery are sports, there are other forms of sport besides Quidditch, you know. Sometimes Father has business, so Mother and I visit museums. Art is one thing Muggles do well. The pictures don't move, but there's still technique, the use of light and dark, different schools of style. It's quite interesting, and some are truly beautiful. You should try it sometime. Didn't your relatives ever take you to museums?"

Potter snorted again and said, "As if."

Draco wasn't sure what exactly Potter meant by that, but offered, "Well, you'll be going to Egypt with the Weasleys. Perhaps you'll get to see some Egyptian art while you're there. Art isn't just paintings, and Egypt is full of antiquities..."

He was interrupted by the entrance of Professor Burbage, an annoyingly cheerful smile in place as she approached them.

"Boys," she greeted them. "Draco, I have some good news."

"My parents are coming!" he said, unable to contain his excitement. He rose from his chair and said, "I'll just get my things. When will they arrive?"

"No, Draco,...please, sit down," Professor Burbage said, stopping him with a hand on his shoulder. Her cheery smile was gone, replaced with a slightly worried expression, and Draco sat again, frowning.

"What other good news could there possibly be, Professor?" he asked grimly.

"Your parents' trial has yet to be set, Draco," she said, her voice kind. "But for the meantime, you'll be going to stay with your aunt and uncle..."

Out of the corner of his eye, Draco noticed Potter's head suddenly snap up, but ignored him, saying coldly to Burbage, "My aunt and uncle are currently guests of Azkaban, Professor. I have no other. Father is an only child..."

"Draco, " Professor Burbage said, her voice holding a bit of a pitying quality he didn't like."You know your mother has another sister…"

"No!" Draco exclaimed angrily. "No! Mother doesn't speak to her sister, I don't know them! They aren't...no! My parents won't agree to this! It's outrageous!"

"Draco," Burbage said, her voice now firm, no nonsense. ”You will go. I'm afraid you have no choice. Mr and Mrs Tonks applied, have been investigated, and approved by the department. There were no other applicants, but it's always better to be placed with family."

"They're not my family!" Draco shouted, "I won't go!"

"Draco, please be reasonable," Burbage said, "it's for the best. You can't stay here forever."

"It won't be forever! Don't you understand? This has all been a huge mistake, a misunderstanding, and once my father explains it to your thick-headed boss, they'll be released! Why don't you understand that?! I'd rather stay here until it's done! My father knows Fudge, it can't be more than a few days until whatever mix up these Ministry drones have made is resolved! I'll stay here, with Potter. We're fine right here!"

"Draco," Burbage said, taking a deep breath, "I know that you're not happy, and that you would rather be home with your parents, that's perfectly understandable. However, at this time, it's simply not possible, and like it or not, you must accept that. Mr and Mrs Tonks applied to have you, Draco, they want you with them, because they care about you and can keep you safe and looked after. Now…"

"I won't go," Draco said flatly, his voice belligerent as he crossed his arms over his chest imperiously. "I refuse to."

"Draco," she replied in like, "you cannot stay here. Harry won't be here much longer himself. It is the objective of the Department to find suitable homes as quickly as possible, and one has been found for you. Now, you are to pack your things and be ready in half an hour, when I will return, and take you to your aunt's home." She hesitated a moment, then added, "I can have Aurors accompany us if necessary. Will that be necessary?"

Draco bit his bottom lip to keep it from quivering, and braced himself against the tears that wanted to fall. This wasn't fair. Why was he being punished when he'd done nothing wrong? He took a deep breath to try and calm the storm of emotions stampeding through him. Anger, desperation, fear all coursed through him and he felt trapped. Cornered. Hopeless.

He took a quick glance at Potter, expecting to see that smug smirk, humiliating on top of everything else, but Potter wasn't looking at him at all. His head was bowed, and he appeared to be deeply interested in his fidgeting fingers.

Another deep breath, and Draco looked back at Burbage, who was watching him expectantly. He could see no way out. He could go quietly, or be dragged out by Aurors, the way he'd been dragged in. He didn't want to go to his blood traitor aunt and her mudblood husband's hovel at all, but he absolutely didn't want to humiliate himself and his name by being dragged there by Aurors kicking, and screaming like some feral animal.

He was a Malfoy. Mother and Father would be counting on him to behave like one, especially now.

Trapped, he was trapped, and all he could do until he could think of a plan, was to acquiesce and try to keep some shred of dignity. He swallowed hard, steeling himself, and croaked out, "No, it won't be necessary."

"Very well," Burbage said in a relieved voice. "I'll leave you to gather your things, and return in thirty minutes. Your wand and broom will be returned to you when we arrive at your aunt's home."

She glanced at Potter, still fidgeting, and took her leave. Draco huffed out a breath and then turned toward the dorm to make ready. He was pulling his trunk out from under his bed when Potter appeared and asked, "Need any help?"

Draco paused in what he was doing, too defeated to snark or snap.

"No....thanks, " he said dully.

Potter sat on his own bed, and Draco returned to placing his things carefully in his trunk. He could feel the other boy's eyes boring into the back of his head, and knew he wanted to say something. Unable to stand it any longer, he said over his shoulder. "Spit it out, Potter. I know you're dying to tell me how you enjoyed my little show out there."

His heart wasn't in it however, and he could hear it in his own voice. "Why don't you want to go to your aunt's house? How bad can it be? It's your mum's sister. Isn't your family filthy rich on both sides? You can go back to having your breakfast served to you by elves. Go back to your fencing lessons and museum visits."

" No, I can't, " Draco ground out, "they aren't like us."

"You mean....she's...a squib? No magic?" Potter asked incredulously.

How dare he? Draco thought furiously. He slammed his trunk lid shut and turned on the other boy. "Of course she's not a squib! How dare you imply that there are squibs in my lineage! I told you not to speak of my mother in any form! The idea of a squib in the Black family! Don't be preposterous, Potter!"

"Alright! Alright!," Potter said, holding his hands palms up, "Sorry! I didn't mean to offend your pureblood sensibilities! Excuse my half-blood ignorance!"

Draco gave him a final glare and turned back to his trunk, opening the lid and gathering his toiletries from his nightstand.

"So...if she's a pureblood like your mum, what's the problem?" Potter asked his voice, taking on the tone of a solicitor in a high profile case. “Why doesn't your mum speak to her own sister?"

Draco stood staring down into his trunk, seething. Why couldn't Potter just mind his own business and let it go? Draco knew, had the circumstances been reversed, he himself would be dying of curiosity, but it still angered him. He didn't want to answer, because he didn't want to hear anymore of Potter's taunting of his upbringing, but he knew he wouldn't let it go either.

His still churning emotions got the best of him however, and he turned again to the other boy and said nastily, "Because she's a blood traitor, Potter. She besmirched the Black family name by marrying a muggleborn and tainted the line. Are you happy now? Hear what you wanted to hear? Go on, have your go at me. You'll never understand why blood status is important. Not when your pet weasel takes pride in being a blood traitor. Not when your own mother was a muggleborn. You don't understand how not keeping our lines pure is slowly eroding our magic. How it's a pox on our world and way of life. How if it isn't stopped our world, the wizarding world, will eventually disappear. You don't understand any of this because you don't have parents to teach you, or a family name to be proud of. Your father married a muggleborn, and that makes him a blood traitor as well, and that makes your mother's sacrifice pointless, although it did rid our world of a little more bad blood."

Draco fully expected Potter to lunge at him, after all, he'd just insulted his dead parents, and braced himself for the blows. He wasn't sure Potter wouldn't beat him at fisticuffs, but Draco was willing to let him try. It would feel good to hit something right now, his anger told him.

But the expected punches didn't come. In fact, Potter didn't seem to react much at all, except to look at him with a frown.

"What's the matter, Potter?" Draco goaded, "too stupid to figure out you've just been insulted? Want me to spell it out for you? "

"No, " the other boy said eventually, "I just feel really bad for you that you actually believe all that pureblood stuff. You're not just parroting your father, you actually believe it, and...you're proud of it."


"Of course I'm proud of my family, you idiot!" Draco sputtered, "you'd understand that if you had one!"

"It's funny that you think wizards have nothing in common with Muggles,' Potter said wryly. "Because you sound just like my aunt and uncle. Only, they hate magic. They hate wizards with magic for all the same reasons you hate Muggles with no magic. My aunt thinks my mother being a witch tainted their family, that they were perfectly normal til she came along. It's so ironic it's almost funny."

It was pointless, Draco thought, Potter would never get it. The real irony here was that someone like him was supposed to be the wizarding world's saviour. It took some of the wind out of Draco's sails, and he felt more defeated than ever. He just wanted to go home. Back to the Manor, with his parents, where his own world would be right again.

"I was wrong, Potter," he said, turning back to latch his trunk. "There is no hope for you. You're going to the Weasley's, may as well be back with your aunt and uncle for all the good it'll do you. I'd hardly call them a ‘proper’ wizarding family."

"I think I'll manage," Potter said. "You worry about yourself, yeah? And who knows, you might get lucky. Maybe your muggleborn uncle will either set you straight, or get so sick of your pureblood bullshit he kicks you back here after all."

"I'm counting on it," Draco muttered to himself, but Potter heard.

"You know Malfoy," he said. "There's a muggle saying. Pride goeth before the fall. Hope you survive it. It's going to be a nasty tumble."

Draco ignored that and picked up his trunk, heading out to the common area, where Professor Burbage was waiting, cheery smile in place.

"Ready?" she asked. Draco nodded and faced Potter, who'd followed him out.

"Don't run afoul of the pharaohs, Potter." Draco said as he followed Miss Burbage through the outer door.

The other boy smiled and shook his head. "See you on the Quidditch pitch, Malfoy," he said, as Draco followed Burbage out.

Draco and Professor Burbage arrived at the cottage by side along apparition, landing in a large garden, redolent with the heady smell of sweet flowers and acrid herbs. Draco hastily let go of the Professor's arm and looked around.

It was nothing at all like the large formal gardens of the Manor, with its fountains and peacocks and carefully manicured beds of roses. Nor was it like the kitchen gardens that the elves maintained with neatly ordered vegetables beside medicinal and cooking herbs, labelled and perfectly tended. No, this garden was a riot of many different garishly coloured flowers and randomly scattered herb beds. Chickens ran amuck in the foliage, scratching for insects, pecking at fruits and vegetables, a small tumult in the sea of chaos. There were two outbuildings that, while well-maintained, were almost slapdash in their appearance. Beyond all that a brick pathway leading up to an ivy covered cottage, its thatched roof somehow grounding the airy appearance of the structure it covered.

Professor Burbage looked at Draco and said, "It's beautiful, isn't it? I think you'll come to be happy here. Your aunt and uncle are very nice people, Draco. Please give them a chance."

Clearly, the woman's idea of "beautiful" was vastly different to Draco's, so he held his tongue and simply nodded, following her up the path to the house. As they approached, the door opened, and a man and woman stepped out. Draco stopped in surprise, blinking at the woman, Aunt Andromeda, who held a startling resemblance to the portraits he'd seen of Aunt Bellatrix.

She was wearing a smile that he was sure she meant to be kind and welcoming , which faltered a bit as she gazed at Draco. The man, his ‘Uncle’, Ted, the muggleborn, was tall and thin, with a slight paunch and receding, blonde hair. He was also smiling, the sort of cheery smile Professor Burbage wore, and holding out his hand, he said heartily. "There he is! Welcome, Draco! I'm your uncle, Ted Tonks."

Draco tensed slightly, glancing at his aunt and Professor Burbage, and stiffly reached forward to briefly shake the man's hand.

"Sir", he said faintly, pulling his hand back, just managing to forego wiping his hand clean. Aunt Andromeda stepped toward him, her hands folded primly in front of her, reminiscent of how Mother held hers, and gazed at Draco a moment, almost as if she were studying him. He swallowed hard, her scrutiny making him nervous, and he forced himself not to flinch away.

"You resemble your father," she said quietly. "But I can see my sister in you too. I'm your Aunt Andromeda, Draco. It's a pleasure to finally meet you."

She was soft spoken, like Mother, and her voice made Draco miss her very much.

"Aunt Andromeda," he said, sketching a small bow to her, out of respect for Mother. He knew that she would expect that of him, regardless of whether or not they were speaking.

"Come in," she said, gesturing toward the open door. "We’ll have tea, and chat a bit."

His aunt and uncle lead the way, with Professor Burbage bringing up the rear. They all trooped in through a small entryway, levitating his belongings inside with a flick of her wand. They entered directly into what might pass for a parlour, where another surprise awaited Draco, in the form of the girl Auror who had witnessed his embarrassing intake at the Ministry. She had one leg sprawled out before her and the other hiked into the chair with her chin resting on her knee.

"You!" he blurted out before he could stop himself, making the adults frown, and the crup that sat at her feet bark.

"Oi, stuff it, you bloody mongrel," she told the crup with an affectionate scratch to its head. "His name’s Big Tony, cousin. Don't worry, barks worse 'n his bite."

"Draco, this is our daughter, Nymphadora, your cousin," Aunt Andromeda said as she pushed against the girl’s leg with an irate glare at her. "She's an Auror in training."

"Call me Nymphadora and see what happens," his cousin, the Auror, said cheerily. She was smiling, but Draco heard the threat.

"Have a seat, Draco," his uncle said gesturing to a cloth covered sofa with a garish, multicoloured blanket made of yarn draped over the back. Draco was loath to sit there, he was sure they let the crup lounge there. Gingerly he sat on the edge, his posture straight, his hands clasped. Professor Burbage took a seat next to him. Aunt Andromeda spelled a tea tray to the table in front of the sofa.
No house elves here, Draco thought despairingly, as she began pouring, asking Draco how he took his tea.

“Black is fine.” His aunt poured for him into a china cup that had obviously seen better days. He accepted it with a murmured thanks, not really hoping that the tea would be more than swill. He waited until all were served to take a tiny sip. It was better than he expected, fragrant with notes of floral that didn’t overtake the woodsier notes, but not up to Malfoy standards, obviously. She offered him a plate filled with unfamiliar biscuits. They were perfectly round, and obviously made by machine. He demurred. He would not be eating those Muggle atrocities, no matter how nice they smelled.

Conversation around him was stilted with his uncle alternately jouncing his knee and stirring his overly sweetened drink. The Auror–he refused to admit that creature was related to him–resumed her laconic pose and fussed with the dog whilst shooting speaking glares at Draco.

Just when Draco thought he could bear no more tension, Miss Burbage said, “Oh, look at the time! I must be going. Why don’t you show Draco his room, Mr Tonks, while I go over some final details with your wife and daughter.”

Draco nearly apparated to his feet. Not that he wanted to be anywhere near the vicinity of his aunt’s husband, but would bear anything to escape the tension.

The man took him through a neatly kept kitchen that had a window over the sink and a view to the rest of the garden. With just a glance, Draco could identify several plants that were used in potions production. They passed under a heavily beamed lintel into a small hallway, the ceiling so low that his uncle’s head nearly brushed it. Off to one side Draco could see a sitting room that looked even more worn than the parlour. The furniture was seemingly well-made, but obviously Muggle in design. It reminded him of the time his parents took him to Sweden and they’d had to stay in a Muggle hotel because the area had no wizarding accommodations.

His uncle turned to a set of ancient, worn stairs that led above. He motioned for Draco to follow him. “Let’s get you settled. I’ll bring up your things, and once you stow them, you can spend your evening as you wish until dinner.”

Draco nodded, not quite trusting his ability to answer neutrally. He did not want to be here. He wanted to be at home where things weren’t new and surprising. He wanted a house elf to put away his things, to bring him properly made tea and cakes. He wanted Mother and Father and not these people who he didn’t care to know, no matter how nice they were initially.

They came to a room at the end of a dimly lit hallway. The door was scarred from age, made of dark wood that had a sheen of some type of polish or lacquer. His uncle opened it, revealing a cramped room that seemed to be stuffed with a smallish bed and a desk.

“This is your room. I know it’s a little cramped, but I hope you can make it homey.” He laughed, a brittle sound that grated on Draco’s already taut nerves.

“I’m sure it will be fine.” Draco answered with a tight smile. This was only going to be temporary. His parents would be able to retrieve him once the Ministry realised their mistake.

“Okay, well I’ll leave you to it then,” his uncle said. “I’ll just go fetch your things.”

Draco waited for the man’s footfalls to recede before he sank to the bed and covered his eyes. Malfoys did not cry. He would not cry.

He hated it here.