Chapter 159
Apparition was not a pleasant experience.
It felt like being squeezed through a narrow rubber tube, pressure crushing from every direction. Still, Draco preferred it. Floo powder left soot in the throat and nose, and travelling by car was slow and uncomfortable.
He also needed the practice.
After steadying his breathing and clearing the dizziness, Draco looked around.
He stood in a small square. The grass at the center was dry and untended. Most nearby houses had their curtains tightly drawn. The buildings were old, many doors covered in graffiti and piled with rubbish.
"Desolate," Draco muttered, scanning the street. "Where is Dobby? I told him to wait here."
As he walked forward, a light pink parasol suddenly appeared in front of him.
Pansy stood beneath it, smiling.
She wore a white pleated summer dress and a pale pink hat embroidered with a small flower—very different from her usual school robes.
Draco understood immediately.
Mother.
No wonder Narcissa had insisted he stay one extra day.
"Oh," Draco said flatly, glancing past her. "Wrong place."
He turned and walked the other way.
"Draco, where are you going?!" Pansy panicked and hurried after him—forgetting she stood at the top of the steps.
Her foot slipped.
She pitched forward, suitcase in one hand, parasol in the other.
Before she could fall, an invisible force steadied her. Her feet touched the ground safely.
"I knew you wouldn't ignore me," she said sweetly.
"I'm not here on holiday," Draco replied sternly.
Her eyes immediately filled with mist.
"I ran away from home," she said pitifully. "You'll take me in, right?"
Draco gave her a long look.
Just then, an owl swooped down.
He glanced at it. "This is your family's breed."
It carried only a letter.
Pansy jumped. "Don't read it!"
Too late.
Draco skimmed the contents, expression unreadable.
"So," he said calmly, "you ran away?"
"Half," Pansy admitted, looking at the ground. "If I didn't say it dramatically, you wouldn't agree."
The letter, written by her father, politely asked Draco to look after her.
Draco sighed. "Your father has a lot of confidence in me."
---
A sudden thump hit his heel.
Dobby stood there, trembling, holding another letter.
"Dobby is late! Please forgive Master Malfoy!"
"This is from Madam."
Draco didn't even open it.
He set it on fire.
The letter burned to ash in seconds.
Pansy's hopeful expression collapsed.
"Master burned Madam's letter!" Dobby wailed. "Dobby must punish himself!"
"I order you to stop self-harm immediately," Draco said.
Dobby froze mid-charge.
"I burned it because I already know what she wrote," Draco added calmly. "It's not your fault."
Then he turned to Pansy.
She stood there like a defendant awaiting judgment.
After a moment, Draco sighed.
"You win."
Her sad expression vanished instantly, replaced by a radiant smile.
"But," Draco continued, "once we go inside, you are not to touch anything."
He began listing precautions.
Pansy nodded eagerly.
---
They climbed the steps together toward Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place.
"What's in the suitcase?" Draco asked, noticing its weight.
"Food. And necessities," she replied.
The black door was old and scratched. The silver knocker was shaped like a coiled serpent. There was no keyhole.
Draco raised his wand.
Before he could force it open, chains clanked inside.
The door creaked open.
A house-elf stood there.
Even compared to Dobby, it was unsettling—bald, with sparse white hair on bat-like ears, bloodshot eyes, and grey, sagging skin. Only a filthy rag covered its waist.
"For the first time," Pansy whispered, "I think Dobby is handsome."
Dobby immediately began rolling on the ground in delight.
Draco ignored him.
This could only be Kreacher.
"Guests," the old elf croaked, bowing stiffly. "Honorable pure-blood guests. May I know your names?"
"My name is Draco Malfoy," Draco said, crouching to his level. "My mother is a member of the Black family. I am not a guest."
Kreacher's eyes widened.
"Miss Cissy's son?"
"Yes."
Kreacher trembled with excitement.
"She is the only one Kreacher still respects! A true noble! If only she had inherited the House of Black—rather than that ungrateful traitor who should be nailed to the wall of shame!"
His voice rose, growing shrill.
"Master Black broke his mother's heart! Ungrateful scum—"
Pansy quietly stepped back, staring at the elf as if he were mad.