CHAPTER 12: - Confirmed Suspicions
Narcissa woke the next morning and sat up in bed. Lucius’ absence from the covers didn’t phase her one bit, for after many years of sleeping by herself she never missed him upon waking. It had been Narcissa’s hope as a young woman to fill the manor with children. Under the circumstances, however, it was a wonder that they even had Draco. The intimacy between them died shortly after their marriage, but Narcissa’s vigilance always kept up the appearance in public that they were still close. She loved him and she felt that he loved her, but something had been holding them back from each other for years. He could never be free of what he was, the power hungry supporter of the Dark Lord. He was always throwing away their money on bribes to the Ministry to move his position further and further ahead, only to have his efforts come crashing down again and land him in prison. Yet, Narcissa remained the submissive wife to her husband, ever charming and supportive.
She sighed and stepped out of bed, knowing full well that she must speak with Lucius today. She hoped that his mood had improved – though he was in hiding, at least he was no longer in Azkaban. His escape had been quick, well planned by the Dark Lord and carried out by Peter and Bellatrix. She knew of his whereabouts, but told no one. If Draco were ever questioned he could honestly give testament to not knowing his father’s location.
Crossing the room, she picked up a brush and began to run it through her long silky hair. She pinned it atop her head and pinched color into her cheeks. A small flask sat atop her bureau. Narcissa uncorked it and realized the liquid in the bottom sat very low. She’d need to summon Blinka to make her some more. Entering her large closet, she pulled out a few simple ingredients from an antique spice cabinet. She seemed to have enough of everything except…the essence of barmillow bottle felt very light, as though it were empty. She looked inside and panicked - a few traces remained at the bottom and that was all.
She walked briskly to the rope that hung next to her bed and pulled rather anxiously. Blinka appeared with a “pop,” just seconds later. “Yes, Mistress Malfoy? You rang for me?” Blinka’s gaze fell to the near empty bottle Narcissa held in her hand and her eyes showed guilt…and then fear.
“Blinka, where on earth has all of the barmillow gone?” Narcissa had her suspicions without being told, but needed it confirmed by her house-elf.
Blinka’s eyes fell to her feet. Narcissa had to admit that it must be difficult for Blinka to inform on Draco having been his nursemaid since he was a baby. Yet, his safety depended on what it was she needed to know. “M-master Draco, Mistress. Master Draco needed it. He was most insistent and said that you would not mind. I honored his request and have been providing him with the barmillow for the past several weeks.”
Narcissa felt the color drain from her face. The events began to unfold in her mind and she now fully understood. It all seemed to fit together.
“Shall I punish myself, Mistress?” Blinka’s eyes were on the verge of tears and Narcissa actually felt remorse.
“No, Blinka. You did nothing wrong. Master Draco gave you a direct order and you followed it. I will take care of this.” Blinka started to take her leave and Narcissa spoke again. “Have you any more barmillow in the house?”
Blinka shook her head and replied, “No, Mistress. That is all there is. I can send Neezle and Toshy out to find more bar weed and millow root to make you some more.”
“Yes Blinka, have them go out and find more. It’s imperative that I speak with Draco’s father as soon as possible.”
Blinka nodded and was gone in an instant. Narcissa sat down weakly on the bed. The sleepless nights he was having, the change in his personality, she now assumed the reason he was constantly out on his broom was to look for potion ingredients…and now his hesitation. Hesitation at what he must do to help free Lucius. She was no fool. Narcissa knew that Draco was seeing someone that he shouldn’t. She needed to dress and wait for him to return home, all the while praying that it wasn’t too late.
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Draco appeared on the stone steps of Malfoy Manor. It was good to be able to just Apparate home after the long trip he’d made to the Ministry earlier that morning. He held his Apparition license in his hand and smiled. It was a job well done. He told his mother that he’d find her upon his return, but, opening the door to the foyer, he decided to change out of his traveling cloak first and then he would look for her.
He ran up the steps to his room and entered. Blinka had cleaned this morning and everything was spotless and in order. He opened his wardrobe and glanced downward at the small bottle of essence while he took off his cloak. A small “pop” told him that Blinka had entered his room.
“Hey Blinka, I see you’ve left me more barmil….” he stopped mid-sentence and a wave of shock hit him square in the chest. His mother was standing near his bed with a look of fear on her face. In all of his years at the Manor, she’d never Apparated into his room.
“Mother, what’s wrong?” he asked with a note of panic on his voice. He didn’t know whether he or his mother had the greater look of alarm. “Is Father all right? Has something happened?” Draco had no idea why she was here but from the look on her face, he knew it couldn’t be good.
Her eyes began to well up with tears. After a closer look, Draco realized she had been crying earlier, as well. His first thought was that the Order had found his father.
He was about to ask how it had happened when his mother stepped near him, placed both of her hands on his shoulders and spoke. “Draco, you need to tell me who it is you’ve been seeing.”
He stammered. He couldn’t think straight. Had she found Ginny’s badge? Why had she asked him that? Surely she wouldn’t have invaded his privacy had something not happened to his father. What if he had been killed? Instead of giving his mother an answer he just stared at her, unable to comprehend what she was saying.
“I know that you’ve been using the essence of barmillow. I called Blinka into my room this morning and she told me that she’d been bringing it to you.” Draco started to protest, but his mother continued. “I want to know who it is you’ve been seeing at night.”
Draco plastered his best confused expression across his face. He had to lie. “You want to know who it is I’ve been seeing? I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He could feel the sweat beading up on his forehead. He turned and threw his cloak on the bed as casually as he could. “I needed the barmillow for an assignment Professor Snape gave us prior to end of term. I haven’t been seeing anyone.”
His mother’s look of fear turned to outrage. He’d seldom seen her this way. “HOW MANY TIMES MUST I TELL YOU? I am your mother and I know when you are lying to me. Not only do I see it written across your face, but you are obviously not familiar with the use of essence of barmillow.” He began to object for the second time, but his mother held up her hand to silence him as she continued. “Its only use is for dream travel. I am assuming that you found the parchment in your father’s library?” Draco started to nod but his mother didn’t wait for an answer. “I have no doubt you stumbled onto it during your studies of the Dark Arts when you were younger - and leave it to Lucius for not giving you any detail on it at the time.” She glared at her son and quickly turned toward the window.
Draco knew he was defeated and sat down in the wing-backed chair near his wardrobe. He allowed his mother to continue without a fight. When she spoke again her voice was very hollow, unlike the gentle tone that she always used when speaking with him.
“She’s not in Slytherin, is she?”
Had Draco been standing he would’ve needed to sit down upon hearing his mother’s question. Was he that transparent? Could it be that his mother was an accomplished Legilimens and he was not aware of it? He could see that there was no use in continuing with the lie. She had asked him a direct question and he needed to be honest.
He shook his head ever so slightly, glancing at his feet. “No. She’s not in Slytherin.”
She turned toward him again. Her hand was shaky as she wiped away a tear and took several breaths to regain some of her composure.
Draco felt angry with himself. His entire conversation with Blinka came flooding back. She had been hesitant with him for a reason. She’d tried to talk him out of using the essence and he would have none of it. And now…here he was…stripped bare of his secret.
He decided to speak out of turn. Getting to his feet, he said, “Before you say another word, you should know that I don’t care. I don’t care that she isn’t in Slytherin. I’m sorry that I haven’t been honest with you, but I’ve been so confused. There are so many things that I’ve had to try to sort out in my head and I was afraid for her safety. I was afraid of what you or Father might think…and the other Slytherins, for that matter. But aside from her safety, I honestly DON’T CARE anymore,” Draco yelled. He drew a long breath before continuing.
“Mother…I don’t think I can do what you have asked me to do. I can’t be that person you need me to be. I want father to come home as much as you, but I love her. I love her more than I ever thought I could love anyone. For once…for once I just wish I weren’t in Slytherin, either.”
He felt drained…as though it had taken every ounce of energy he had to say those words to his mother. He took his place in the chair again and looked up at her. Her eyes were sad behind a somewhat evident smile. She sat limply down in the chair next to him.
“Draco…” She sighed. “You are more like me than I ever knew. I sensed a change in you and I was right. I had a feeling that someone had caused you to rethink your priorities for your heart has been somewhere else this summer. But…when I found the essence gone, I was sure.” She hung her head and began to cry softly, again.
Draco felt so ashamed for doing this to his family. His voice was barely audible when he spoke. “Mother, are you terribly disappointed in me?”
Her crying increased and he felt assured that he had let her down, yet her next sentence gave him hope. “No Draco. I’m quite proud of you.”
He was astounded. What did she mean? How could she be proud when he’d failed her? Failed his father? Gone against everything he’d been raised to believe? She lovingly placed her hand on his knee and began to explain.
“Draco I’ve seen you grow up in your father’s shadow. You’ve been so eager to please him and step into what you were destined to become - but somewhere along the line you developed your own identity. And if I’m not mistaken, this young girl has…helped you find your way. You mustn’t think that everything your father has taught you is the only way. You need to do what you think is right. But…” her voice trailed off and she seemed to be struggling with herself as to whether or not she should continue. “My son, there is something that you need to know. I only pray that we aren’t too late.” He felt his face go pale as one look into her eyes told him Ginny was in trouble.
“Dream travel was perfected by the Dark Lord, Draco. It isn’t widely used. Few wizards other than Death Eaters use this method of communication. With that being said…it is also monitored by the Dark Lord.”
The silence lasted but a moment before Draco jumped out of his chair and paced the floor. He knew what this meant – his mother need not continue. He felt sick. Ginny’s smiling face swam through his head like an endless kaleidoscope of colors. Then it seemed to be getting further and further away, as though she were already drowning below the surface of evil. He kneeled down into the wardrobe and clutched the barmillow bottle with his fist. Hurling it across the room as hard as he could, it shattered into pieces behind the head of his four-poster. His voice cracked as he yelled as loudly as he could. He knew it would do no good, but he was bordering on insanity and needed to release the tension.
His mother let his outburst continue until she felt sure that he was done. Tears were streaming down his cheeks. He felt her hands upon his back and she gently turned him to face her.
“We don’t know that he’s seen you, Draco. Very few of us are still using this method of communication and it’s doubtful that you were discovered. But you need to be aware of the possibility and put an end to it right now. You mustn’t see her in this way again. Both your safety and hers are at risk if you do.” He nodded. “Besides,” his mother continued, “if he had seen you behaving in such a manner I’m sure he would’ve done something before now.” He could tell in his mother’s eyes that she was unsure of this, but was trying to make him feel better.
Draco didn’t feel comforted by her comment. He knew that the Dark Lord could very easily be planning something. His stomach wrenched at the thought of putting Ginny in danger. This was entirely his fault and if anything happened to her he would be to blame. How he wished he could return to the end of his third week at home. He had been so lost without her…had taken matters into his own hands and thought that what he was doing had been in their best interests. He’d just wanted to be with her.
His thoughts were so far away that, when she spoke again, her voice seemed to be off in the distance. “Who is she, Draco?”
He felt himself blush. The secret was out this was true, yet he suddenly felt shy discussing it with her. Narcissa’s expression was soft again; her familiar smile lighting the shadows on her face…he knew he couldn’t deny his mother an answer. Glancing at his feet again, he mumbled ever so quietly, “Ginny. Ginny Weasley.” He paused, wondering if he should continue. “She’s Arthur Weasley’s daughter.”
His mother raised her eyebrows. “Goodness. Well, your father will most certainly be against this.” She paused…almost as if she were looking for something positive to say to her son. “I’m assuming she has striking red hair?” Draco looked up at his mother again and she was smiling.
“Yes. Beautiful red hair.” He blushed even more. Draco was now clearly afraid to continue this conversation for fear of his face becoming the color of a tomato sandwich.
“I suppose you need to warn her, Draco. She needs to know.”
Draco looked exasperated. “How am I going to do that? I can’t send her an owl. Her family doesn’t know.” His thoughts were working quickly. He did need to speak to her. He felt as though he needed to grab her and run. Run someplace where the Dark Lord couldn’t find them. But where would they go?
Narcissa pointed to a piece of paper crumpled into a ball within his fist. “If I’m not mistaken,” she said, “that’s your Apparition license, is it not?”
Draco looked down. His license had been a neat sheet of paper in his hands until his fit of rage took over. Now it looked as though he’d rummaged through the bin and pulled out the first thing he could find. “Reparo!” His mother had pulled out her wand and made the license as good as new.
Draco looked at her and gave a slight smile. “Right, but how am I going to get there? I’ve never even seen the place?”
“Well…” his mother hesitated. “I suppose Ginny has talked to you about where she lives?”
“Yes. Loads of times. She calls it The Burrow.” Draco wondered what his mother was getting it.
“Alright, this is what you need to do.” She sat down again and began to tell him her plan.
Narcissa woke the next morning and sat up in bed. Lucius’ absence from the covers didn’t phase her one bit, for after many years of sleeping by herself she never missed him upon waking. It had been Narcissa’s hope as a young woman to fill the manor with children. Under the circumstances, however, it was a wonder that they even had Draco. The intimacy between them died shortly after their marriage, but Narcissa’s vigilance always kept up the appearance in public that they were still close. She loved him and she felt that he loved her, but something had been holding them back from each other for years. He could never be free of what he was, the power hungry supporter of the Dark Lord. He was always throwing away their money on bribes to the Ministry to move his position further and further ahead, only to have his efforts come crashing down again and land him in prison. Yet, Narcissa remained the submissive wife to her husband, ever charming and supportive.
She sighed and stepped out of bed, knowing full well that she must speak with Lucius today. She hoped that his mood had improved – though he was in hiding, at least he was no longer in Azkaban. His escape had been quick, well planned by the Dark Lord and carried out by Peter and Bellatrix. She knew of his whereabouts, but told no one. If Draco were ever questioned he could honestly give testament to not knowing his father’s location.
Crossing the room, she picked up a brush and began to run it through her long silky hair. She pinned it atop her head and pinched color into her cheeks. A small flask sat atop her bureau. Narcissa uncorked it and realized the liquid in the bottom sat very low. She’d need to summon Blinka to make her some more. Entering her large closet, she pulled out a few simple ingredients from an antique spice cabinet. She seemed to have enough of everything except…the essence of barmillow bottle felt very light, as though it were empty. She looked inside and panicked - a few traces remained at the bottom and that was all.
She walked briskly to the rope that hung next to her bed and pulled rather anxiously. Blinka appeared with a “pop,” just seconds later. “Yes, Mistress Malfoy? You rang for me?” Blinka’s gaze fell to the near empty bottle Narcissa held in her hand and her eyes showed guilt…and then fear.
“Blinka, where on earth has all of the barmillow gone?” Narcissa had her suspicions without being told, but needed it confirmed by her house-elf.
Blinka’s eyes fell to her feet. Narcissa had to admit that it must be difficult for Blinka to inform on Draco having been his nursemaid since he was a baby. Yet, his safety depended on what it was she needed to know. “M-master Draco, Mistress. Master Draco needed it. He was most insistent and said that you would not mind. I honored his request and have been providing him with the barmillow for the past several weeks.”
Narcissa felt the color drain from her face. The events began to unfold in her mind and she now fully understood. It all seemed to fit together.
“Shall I punish myself, Mistress?” Blinka’s eyes were on the verge of tears and Narcissa actually felt remorse.
“No, Blinka. You did nothing wrong. Master Draco gave you a direct order and you followed it. I will take care of this.” Blinka started to take her leave and Narcissa spoke again. “Have you any more barmillow in the house?”
Blinka shook her head and replied, “No, Mistress. That is all there is. I can send Neezle and Toshy out to find more bar weed and millow root to make you some more.”
“Yes Blinka, have them go out and find more. It’s imperative that I speak with Draco’s father as soon as possible.”
Blinka nodded and was gone in an instant. Narcissa sat down weakly on the bed. The sleepless nights he was having, the change in his personality, she now assumed the reason he was constantly out on his broom was to look for potion ingredients…and now his hesitation. Hesitation at what he must do to help free Lucius. She was no fool. Narcissa knew that Draco was seeing someone that he shouldn’t. She needed to dress and wait for him to return home, all the while praying that it wasn’t too late.
Draco appeared on the stone steps of Malfoy Manor. It was good to be able to just Apparate home after the long trip he’d made to the Ministry earlier that morning. He held his Apparition license in his hand and smiled. It was a job well done. He told his mother that he’d find her upon his return, but, opening the door to the foyer, he decided to change out of his traveling cloak first and then he would look for her.
He ran up the steps to his room and entered. Blinka had cleaned this morning and everything was spotless and in order. He opened his wardrobe and glanced downward at the small bottle of essence while he took off his cloak. A small “pop” told him that Blinka had entered his room.
“Hey Blinka, I see you’ve left me more barmil….” he stopped mid-sentence and a wave of shock hit him square in the chest. His mother was standing near his bed with a look of fear on her face. In all of his years at the Manor, she’d never Apparated into his room.
“Mother, what’s wrong?” he asked with a note of panic on his voice. He didn’t know whether he or his mother had the greater look of alarm. “Is Father all right? Has something happened?” Draco had no idea why she was here but from the look on her face, he knew it couldn’t be good.
Her eyes began to well up with tears. After a closer look, Draco realized she had been crying earlier, as well. His first thought was that the Order had found his father.
He was about to ask how it had happened when his mother stepped near him, placed both of her hands on his shoulders and spoke. “Draco, you need to tell me who it is you’ve been seeing.”
He stammered. He couldn’t think straight. Had she found Ginny’s badge? Why had she asked him that? Surely she wouldn’t have invaded his privacy had something not happened to his father. What if he had been killed? Instead of giving his mother an answer he just stared at her, unable to comprehend what she was saying.
“I know that you’ve been using the essence of barmillow. I called Blinka into my room this morning and she told me that she’d been bringing it to you.” Draco started to protest, but his mother continued. “I want to know who it is you’ve been seeing at night.”
Draco plastered his best confused expression across his face. He had to lie. “You want to know who it is I’ve been seeing? I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He could feel the sweat beading up on his forehead. He turned and threw his cloak on the bed as casually as he could. “I needed the barmillow for an assignment Professor Snape gave us prior to end of term. I haven’t been seeing anyone.”
His mother’s look of fear turned to outrage. He’d seldom seen her this way. “HOW MANY TIMES MUST I TELL YOU? I am your mother and I know when you are lying to me. Not only do I see it written across your face, but you are obviously not familiar with the use of essence of barmillow.” He began to object for the second time, but his mother held up her hand to silence him as she continued. “Its only use is for dream travel. I am assuming that you found the parchment in your father’s library?” Draco started to nod but his mother didn’t wait for an answer. “I have no doubt you stumbled onto it during your studies of the Dark Arts when you were younger - and leave it to Lucius for not giving you any detail on it at the time.” She glared at her son and quickly turned toward the window.
Draco knew he was defeated and sat down in the wing-backed chair near his wardrobe. He allowed his mother to continue without a fight. When she spoke again her voice was very hollow, unlike the gentle tone that she always used when speaking with him.
“She’s not in Slytherin, is she?”
Had Draco been standing he would’ve needed to sit down upon hearing his mother’s question. Was he that transparent? Could it be that his mother was an accomplished Legilimens and he was not aware of it? He could see that there was no use in continuing with the lie. She had asked him a direct question and he needed to be honest.
He shook his head ever so slightly, glancing at his feet. “No. She’s not in Slytherin.”
She turned toward him again. Her hand was shaky as she wiped away a tear and took several breaths to regain some of her composure.
Draco felt angry with himself. His entire conversation with Blinka came flooding back. She had been hesitant with him for a reason. She’d tried to talk him out of using the essence and he would have none of it. And now…here he was…stripped bare of his secret.
He decided to speak out of turn. Getting to his feet, he said, “Before you say another word, you should know that I don’t care. I don’t care that she isn’t in Slytherin. I’m sorry that I haven’t been honest with you, but I’ve been so confused. There are so many things that I’ve had to try to sort out in my head and I was afraid for her safety. I was afraid of what you or Father might think…and the other Slytherins, for that matter. But aside from her safety, I honestly DON’T CARE anymore,” Draco yelled. He drew a long breath before continuing.
“Mother…I don’t think I can do what you have asked me to do. I can’t be that person you need me to be. I want father to come home as much as you, but I love her. I love her more than I ever thought I could love anyone. For once…for once I just wish I weren’t in Slytherin, either.”
He felt drained…as though it had taken every ounce of energy he had to say those words to his mother. He took his place in the chair again and looked up at her. Her eyes were sad behind a somewhat evident smile. She sat limply down in the chair next to him.
“Draco…” She sighed. “You are more like me than I ever knew. I sensed a change in you and I was right. I had a feeling that someone had caused you to rethink your priorities for your heart has been somewhere else this summer. But…when I found the essence gone, I was sure.” She hung her head and began to cry softly, again.
Draco felt so ashamed for doing this to his family. His voice was barely audible when he spoke. “Mother, are you terribly disappointed in me?”
Her crying increased and he felt assured that he had let her down, yet her next sentence gave him hope. “No Draco. I’m quite proud of you.”
He was astounded. What did she mean? How could she be proud when he’d failed her? Failed his father? Gone against everything he’d been raised to believe? She lovingly placed her hand on his knee and began to explain.
“Draco I’ve seen you grow up in your father’s shadow. You’ve been so eager to please him and step into what you were destined to become - but somewhere along the line you developed your own identity. And if I’m not mistaken, this young girl has…helped you find your way. You mustn’t think that everything your father has taught you is the only way. You need to do what you think is right. But…” her voice trailed off and she seemed to be struggling with herself as to whether or not she should continue. “My son, there is something that you need to know. I only pray that we aren’t too late.” He felt his face go pale as one look into her eyes told him Ginny was in trouble.
“Dream travel was perfected by the Dark Lord, Draco. It isn’t widely used. Few wizards other than Death Eaters use this method of communication. With that being said…it is also monitored by the Dark Lord.”
The silence lasted but a moment before Draco jumped out of his chair and paced the floor. He knew what this meant – his mother need not continue. He felt sick. Ginny’s smiling face swam through his head like an endless kaleidoscope of colors. Then it seemed to be getting further and further away, as though she were already drowning below the surface of evil. He kneeled down into the wardrobe and clutched the barmillow bottle with his fist. Hurling it across the room as hard as he could, it shattered into pieces behind the head of his four-poster. His voice cracked as he yelled as loudly as he could. He knew it would do no good, but he was bordering on insanity and needed to release the tension.
His mother let his outburst continue until she felt sure that he was done. Tears were streaming down his cheeks. He felt her hands upon his back and she gently turned him to face her.
“We don’t know that he’s seen you, Draco. Very few of us are still using this method of communication and it’s doubtful that you were discovered. But you need to be aware of the possibility and put an end to it right now. You mustn’t see her in this way again. Both your safety and hers are at risk if you do.” He nodded. “Besides,” his mother continued, “if he had seen you behaving in such a manner I’m sure he would’ve done something before now.” He could tell in his mother’s eyes that she was unsure of this, but was trying to make him feel better.
Draco didn’t feel comforted by her comment. He knew that the Dark Lord could very easily be planning something. His stomach wrenched at the thought of putting Ginny in danger. This was entirely his fault and if anything happened to her he would be to blame. How he wished he could return to the end of his third week at home. He had been so lost without her…had taken matters into his own hands and thought that what he was doing had been in their best interests. He’d just wanted to be with her.
His thoughts were so far away that, when she spoke again, her voice seemed to be off in the distance. “Who is she, Draco?”
He felt himself blush. The secret was out this was true, yet he suddenly felt shy discussing it with her. Narcissa’s expression was soft again; her familiar smile lighting the shadows on her face…he knew he couldn’t deny his mother an answer. Glancing at his feet again, he mumbled ever so quietly, “Ginny. Ginny Weasley.” He paused, wondering if he should continue. “She’s Arthur Weasley’s daughter.”
His mother raised her eyebrows. “Goodness. Well, your father will most certainly be against this.” She paused…almost as if she were looking for something positive to say to her son. “I’m assuming she has striking red hair?” Draco looked up at his mother again and she was smiling.
“Yes. Beautiful red hair.” He blushed even more. Draco was now clearly afraid to continue this conversation for fear of his face becoming the color of a tomato sandwich.
“I suppose you need to warn her, Draco. She needs to know.”
Draco looked exasperated. “How am I going to do that? I can’t send her an owl. Her family doesn’t know.” His thoughts were working quickly. He did need to speak to her. He felt as though he needed to grab her and run. Run someplace where the Dark Lord couldn’t find them. But where would they go?
Narcissa pointed to a piece of paper crumpled into a ball within his fist. “If I’m not mistaken,” she said, “that’s your Apparition license, is it not?”
Draco looked down. His license had been a neat sheet of paper in his hands until his fit of rage took over. Now it looked as though he’d rummaged through the bin and pulled out the first thing he could find. “Reparo!” His mother had pulled out her wand and made the license as good as new.
Draco looked at her and gave a slight smile. “Right, but how am I going to get there? I’ve never even seen the place?”
“Well…” his mother hesitated. “I suppose Ginny has talked to you about where she lives?”
“Yes. Loads of times. She calls it The Burrow.” Draco wondered what his mother was getting it.
“Alright, this is what you need to do.” She sat down again and began to tell him her plan.
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