Late, late, late.
It wasn't exactly the best day, Draco decided angrily to himself, to have one's Apparating Test sprung on oneself. Especially, he mentally grumbled, with it being due to the fact that his stupid personal house-elf, Adora, had forgotten to remind him about it the night before.
Opening his wardrobe, his silver eyes scanned the contents. Past shelves of robes, hanging cloaks and numerous other items of usual wizard's attire, his gaze came to rest on his somewhat depleted collection of muggle clothing.
Draco barely ever wore muggle clothes at home; they were strictly for weekend trips into Hogsmeade during the school term. His father had always made it perfectly clear that The Malfoy Manner was strictly anti-muggle, and Draco couldn't see his father being too approving if he sauntered downstairs each day of the school holidays wearing the garments of mudbloods.
However, today it was necessary to look like a muggle. Draco shuddered. It was not a pleasant thought. It was just that if he ended up materialising in the wrong place, a place full of muggles, he would at least 'fit in' visually.
Putting his father out of his mind for a moment, Draco grabbed the first items of clothing he could see. White t-shirt with 'Calvin Klein' splashed across the front, black jeans with a label screaming the same name on the back pocket (Lucius Malfoy has always insisted that if Draco was going to dress as scum, he should dress as the best kind of scum did), and his favourite item of clothing, despite extreme disapproval from his family, a black leather jacket. Draco never could understand how muggles could take such ugly animals as cows and convert them into such an attractive jacket, but he rarely dwelled on it anyway.
Slipping his feet into a pair of black shoes he took a deep breath and crossed his fingers. This was his last chance to practise before the test. Closing his eyes and contorting his face in concentration, he disappeared with a small "POP".
***
"Good morning Draco, so glad you could finally join us." Lucius Malfoy shot his son a cold stare across the family dining table, which could have easily passed for a banqueting table for its immense length.
"Apologies father," Draco quickly responded, nervously. He then shot an angry look at Adora, who was refilling Lucius's wine goblet. "Adora didn't wake me this morning."
Lucius's cold stare redirected to the quivering house-elf by his side.
"Stupid creature," he hissed, swiping at her head with a rolled up copy of The Daily Prophet. "Get out of my sight!"
"S-s-sorry Master," Adora scuttled back into the kitchen, frightened tears trickling down her cheeks.
"Draco, you'll be late for your test." Draco's mother Narcissa said, rather absent-mindedly, Draco thought.
"Noah Baron-Williams [that was Draco's Apparating Instructor] will be meeting you at the gate of the Manor at ten to eleven," Lucius casually commented.
Draco darted a glance at his watch. It was five to eleven. With no time for a sit-down breakfast, Draco whipped out his wand.
"Accio!" He pointed it at the table. A piece of toast came whizzing towards his face. Catching it deftly in-between his teeth, Draco muttered something of a goodbye and ran for the front door, held open by a subdued Adora.
It wasn't exactly the best day, Draco decided angrily to himself, to have one's Apparating Test sprung on oneself. Especially, he mentally grumbled, with it being due to the fact that his stupid personal house-elf, Adora, had forgotten to remind him about it the night before.
Opening his wardrobe, his silver eyes scanned the contents. Past shelves of robes, hanging cloaks and numerous other items of usual wizard's attire, his gaze came to rest on his somewhat depleted collection of muggle clothing.
Draco barely ever wore muggle clothes at home; they were strictly for weekend trips into Hogsmeade during the school term. His father had always made it perfectly clear that The Malfoy Manner was strictly anti-muggle, and Draco couldn't see his father being too approving if he sauntered downstairs each day of the school holidays wearing the garments of mudbloods.
However, today it was necessary to look like a muggle. Draco shuddered. It was not a pleasant thought. It was just that if he ended up materialising in the wrong place, a place full of muggles, he would at least 'fit in' visually.
Putting his father out of his mind for a moment, Draco grabbed the first items of clothing he could see. White t-shirt with 'Calvin Klein' splashed across the front, black jeans with a label screaming the same name on the back pocket (Lucius Malfoy has always insisted that if Draco was going to dress as scum, he should dress as the best kind of scum did), and his favourite item of clothing, despite extreme disapproval from his family, a black leather jacket. Draco never could understand how muggles could take such ugly animals as cows and convert them into such an attractive jacket, but he rarely dwelled on it anyway.
Slipping his feet into a pair of black shoes he took a deep breath and crossed his fingers. This was his last chance to practise before the test. Closing his eyes and contorting his face in concentration, he disappeared with a small "POP".
***
"Good morning Draco, so glad you could finally join us." Lucius Malfoy shot his son a cold stare across the family dining table, which could have easily passed for a banqueting table for its immense length.
"Apologies father," Draco quickly responded, nervously. He then shot an angry look at Adora, who was refilling Lucius's wine goblet. "Adora didn't wake me this morning."
Lucius's cold stare redirected to the quivering house-elf by his side.
"Stupid creature," he hissed, swiping at her head with a rolled up copy of The Daily Prophet. "Get out of my sight!"
"S-s-sorry Master," Adora scuttled back into the kitchen, frightened tears trickling down her cheeks.
"Draco, you'll be late for your test." Draco's mother Narcissa said, rather absent-mindedly, Draco thought.
"Noah Baron-Williams [that was Draco's Apparating Instructor] will be meeting you at the gate of the Manor at ten to eleven," Lucius casually commented.
Draco darted a glance at his watch. It was five to eleven. With no time for a sit-down breakfast, Draco whipped out his wand.
"Accio!" He pointed it at the table. A piece of toast came whizzing towards his face. Catching it deftly in-between his teeth, Draco muttered something of a goodbye and ran for the front door, held open by a subdued Adora.