Chapter the Fourth: In Which Severus Gains an Apprentice…

Disclaimer: Don’t own the characters. Don’t own the approximate plot. Only the insanity is mine.

Warning: Multitaskers need to consider whether their secondary activity of choice is compatible with giggling. Just sayin’.

Little Draco spent the next seven years being spoiled to the point of extreme rottenness by his mother and a group of harried house-elves. His father looked in periodically to adjure Narcissa to teach the boy the sort of things that would make him a fit ornament for a royal drawing room and tacitly wonder if he oughtn’t check to see if the prissy child actually was a girl, after all.

Draco was a rather pretty child, it must be said; his eyes were silver, touched by a soft breath of blue, and all of his features were quite as dainty as if they were sculpted from finest alabaster. His crowning glory was his hair, a river of moon-pale silk—implausibly soft to the touch and warmed with only the faintest kiss of gold. And it was prone to grow very, very quickly. The house-elves trimmed a great length of it every second month and span it into embroidery floss for Narcissa. With it she worked intricate patterns on the blue robes that so flattered her son’s coloring and hers.

Sadly, he was not what one could justifiably call an attractive child, as those features were too often pinched into a pout or frown, except when he was sleeping. If anyone happened to suspect the frazzled house-elves of spiking little Draco’s warm milk to ensure that he remained at his best as long as possible, they refrained from mentioning it. They also refrained from mentioning that Draco was not destined to remain at home with Mummy much longer. This may well have been an error on someone’s part.

And so it came to pass, at the end of his seventh birthday party, while little Draco was busily picking over his toys to calculate which ones he would tire of first, in swooped Severus in all of his black-cloaked glory. Or at least as much glory as he could muster, having once again been spirited away only semi-willingly by a house-elf.

“Bloody elves,” he muttered, looking over his person to ensure that everything he began with was still there. “At least it was only the gardening they interrupted this time. If they ever catch me in the loo, it’s clothes.”

Narcissa clasped her hands together and almost began to wring them before she remembered wrinkles. “Oh dear. Has it been seven years already?” Draco hid behind her skirts, one silver eye peeking out at the imposing figure of their neighboring Potions-genius.

“My thoughts precisely,” Severus said. “Frankly, madam, I am in no particular rus—”

“Ah, there you are Severus!” Lucius breezed into the room, land-shark smile gleaming as if fresh polishing charms had just been applied. “Not a moment too soon, either.”

“I still fail to recall when we got on first name terms,” Severus groused. “Truly, if this moment is inconvenient for you, I can wait. It’s certainly inconvenient for me.”

“Nonsense! Dilly! Pack Draco’s things and take them over to Severus’ tower,” Lucius ordered the nearest house-elf.

“Hold your Thestrals, Malfoy—I haven’t prepared the top floor yet,” Severus protested.

“Dilly and your elf will see to that.” Lucius turned his rather unfortunate smile on Draco. “Go on, son—you’re to join Severus in his tower and become his apprentice. Won’t that be advantageous?” Lucius said this all quite merrily, as one might expect a sane person to tout the fun to be had at an amusement park.

Draco, being perhaps inoculated somewhat by exposure, was unconvinced by Lucius’ bullshit. He buried his face in the skirts of his mummy’s robes.

“Mummy, I don’t want to go with the big, bad man,” little Draco whimpered.

“I am NOT bad. I am simply misunderstood,” Severus said. He made a face that looked every bit as sulky and pinched as the best (or one might argue, worst) efforts of his would-be ward.

“Draco… precious…” Narcissa knelt and placed a dainty finger under her son’s chin to tilt his head up. “Remember all the stories I told you about the prince only coming to play with a good little student who lives in a tall tower defended by many obstacles?”

“Yes,” Draco wibbled.

“Well, you must go to live in Severus’ tower—” Narcissa began.

“—and bl-better well pay attention and learn something,” Severus interrupted.

“—if you are to be part of one of those stories. Your father knows about these things and has arranged it all. Go on.” Narcissa kissed him soundly on the forehead and allowed him to cling to her a moment longer, stifling his whimpers in her robes, before she handed him over to Severus. Little Draco reluctantly took hold of Severus’ hand. Severus reluctantly refrained from slapping Draco’s small hand away.

“Take good care of him,” she said. Severus couldn’t tell who was more shaken by the steel in her voice—himself or little Draco. At least, he couldn’t tell which of the two of them had shuddered slightly.

Still, Severus’ waspishness won out. “Of course—what do you take me for?”

“Someone with no experience raising children,” Narcissa said.

“His robes smell oddly,” Draco whined.

Severus ignored this in favor of seething at Narcissa. “Pot, cauldron,” he hissed out of the corner of his mouth.

Narcissa fortunately did not hear him over Draco’s protests. “If you need any aid, our elves—”

“—Will not be wandering about my property without my express invitation, as per the blo—bothersome contract. Wormy is more than able in matters of child care,” Severus said, with perfect veracity. After all, they’d never lost a kitten or Thestral foal yet. He gripped the tiny hand of his charge somewhat gingerly. The child appeared no more substantial than a moonblossom, an appearance that was belied by his surprisingly forceful attempts to pull away.

“None of that, Draco,” Lucius admonished. Narcissa, more practically, pushed a new plush dragon into his arms to distract him.

“Come on, then,” Severus said gruffly. “Wormy! Where the devil is that—”

Before Severus could say something to which Narcissa would almost certainly object, Wormy arrived. Without further ado (in the elder Malfoys’ presence, at least) little Draco was spirited away by Severus to live in his tower and train as the Potion master’s apprentice.

At least, that was the plan.