(no subject)
Who: Draco and Narcissa Malfoy
What: Draco returns, flustered, from Diagon Alley and meets his mother.
When: evening of Wednesday, November 5, 1997 (backdated to just after this thread)
Where: Malfoy Manor
Status: complete.
To keep him from having to carry all of his purchases home, Draco had them sent. He had new robes from Madam Malkins, a new cauldron, new quills and parchment for his classes, and a few random things he'd bought simply to give him something else to do: some darker potions ingredients from Knockturn Alley that he'd likely never need, and a book on historical Quidditch players to read for fun.
Finally, as evening approached and the shops brightened to attract the last shoppers of the day, Draco had to accept that he was done and it was time to go home. His chin still smarted from the impact of the Weasley's fist, and he was looking forward to getting it properly healed. What he was going to tell his mother, he still wasn't sure.
He took the Floo home and landed in the parlour. There were no signs of his packages nor the owls that had delivered them, but they had likely been sent up to his room already. He sat down in one of the parlour chairs and called for the house elf, ordering a cup of herbal tea. When it left, he tentatively touched his chin and instinctively smoothed his hair and robes before leaning back in his chair to wait for his tea, still stewing over the day's events.
What: Draco returns, flustered, from Diagon Alley and meets his mother.
When: evening of Wednesday, November 5, 1997 (backdated to just after this thread)
Where: Malfoy Manor
Status: complete.
To keep him from having to carry all of his purchases home, Draco had them sent. He had new robes from Madam Malkins, a new cauldron, new quills and parchment for his classes, and a few random things he'd bought simply to give him something else to do: some darker potions ingredients from Knockturn Alley that he'd likely never need, and a book on historical Quidditch players to read for fun.
Finally, as evening approached and the shops brightened to attract the last shoppers of the day, Draco had to accept that he was done and it was time to go home. His chin still smarted from the impact of the Weasley's fist, and he was looking forward to getting it properly healed. What he was going to tell his mother, he still wasn't sure.
He took the Floo home and landed in the parlour. There were no signs of his packages nor the owls that had delivered them, but they had likely been sent up to his room already. He sat down in one of the parlour chairs and called for the house elf, ordering a cup of herbal tea. When it left, he tentatively touched his chin and instinctively smoothed his hair and robes before leaning back in his chair to wait for his tea, still stewing over the day's events.