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Prologue | Week One | Week Two | Week Three | Week Four | Week Five | Week Six | Week Seven | Week Eight | Epilogue | Timeline
Draco woke up as the sunlight streamed through the pale blue curtains and landed softly on his eyelids. Opening his eyes carefully, he squinted and looked around the room cautiously. It was quite large and airy, decorated in pale blues and yellows. A desk stood opposite the bed, and had a pile of what Draco assumed was Muggle writing equipment on it, and a strange contraption with a rectangular shiny surface, and a flat panel covered in lettered buttons. The boy wasn't quite sure what it did, but Heather had called it a `laptop', whatever that was. Sitting up, Draco eyed the wardrobe and hoped he could find something in it to wear. He didn't feel like wearing yesterday's clothes. Thoughts of his clothes left the young Slytherin contemplating everything that had happened the day before...
Draco Malfoy, pleased to make your acquaintance.
The woman smiled slightly and took the hand, shaking it slightly. There's hope for the young Malfoy heir yet, she thought.
Heather Evans, at your service.
Draco stared at the woman in astonishment, shaking his head slightly in denial.
You can't be!
You've heard of me, then? Heather responded with a smirk. Draco nodded his head slowly.
You can't be Heather Evans. Heather Evans is dead!
Are you sure?
How do you know?
My father told me.
Can he prove it?
Draco looked at the young woman in front of him, a frown appearing on his face. He thought hard for a few moments before reluctantly shaking his head.
I can't think of a way to prove it. From what my father's told me, though, you were an Order of the Phoenix member who was put under Imperius by the Dark Lord. You were supposed to have been killed at a battle in 1976.
I was supposed to have been, but I wasn't. My nephew saved me.
But You were the sister of Lily Evans, which would make your nephew
Potter! Draco spat, That bastard has ruined my life! I challenged him to a duel, and he sent a spell at me in parseltongue, and now I've ended up a Muggle! Then what does he do? He sends me to his aunt! When I get back, I'll
Hey! Stop that. That's my nephew you're insulting. Now that we've established who I am and who you are, would you mind telling me why you're here?
In response, Draco sneered at Heather and handed her the letter he had still been clutching. Taking it from him, she unfolded the parchment and started to read aloud.
Dear Aunt Heather. Thank you for the letter, it was wonderful to hear from you and I promise to visit you soon. I have a small favour to ask of you, I hope you don't mind. I have sent a fifth year Slytherin student, Draco Malfoy, to your house, using this letter as a portkey. As a result of a duel he had with me, he has lost the use of his magic for a full two months. I ask that you let him stay with you for the duration of his incapacitation, as it would be unsuitable for him to stay at Hogwarts. Show him a little of the Muggle world he hates so much, and see if the loss of his magic makes him appreciate Muggles any more than he does now. Normally I wouldn't ask anyone for such a favour, especially having to put up with a Malfoy for two months, but I feel it is the best option available. If this arrangement is inconvenient, please send him back to me via portkey and I will send him to Aunt Petunia. Hope to see you soon, love Harry.
Two months! Two months! the Slytherin exploded after Heather finished reading out the letter, And who's this Petunia person? I don't like being shunted from one person to the other! Why can't I stay at Hogwarts? Or go back to Malfoy Manor?
Shut up, Heather snapped irritably, Let me think. Petunia is my Muggle sister, the one Harry grew up with. She and her husband hate everything to do with magic, seeing witches and wizards as freaks. You can't stay at Hogwarts, because of the anti-Muggle charms. You also can't go to Malfoy Manor.
Why not? Draco said, petulantly.
Do you know what happened to your great grandfather Tiberius Malfoy?
Draco nodded his head, and as comprehension began to dawn his eyes widened in horror.
He lost his magic, and was cast out of the Malfoy family forever.
Exactly. If you tell your father you've lost your magic, even temporarily, he will disown you. Then what would you do?
The blond sat down heavily in a kitchen chair, a look of defeat on his face. His mask of indifference had slipped at some point during the conversation when he had begun to realise the predicament he was in. Now that all the cards had been laid on the table, and as he realised he was stuck in the Muggle world for the next two months, the young aristocrat was starting to despair. Heather saw the rare glimpse of emotions, knowing that Malfoys were known for their self control. She softened instantly, realising that for all his posturing and ego, Draco was still just a fifteen year old boy who had been thrown into a situation totally alien to him. Sitting in the chair next to him, Heather placed her arm comfortingly around his shoulders and gave him a squeeze. Once he had composed himself, she stood and headed for the door, looking back over her shoulder at him and smiling.
Well, come on. I have to show you where you will be staying.
You're letting me stay? he asked incredulously.
Of course! You don't think I'd subject you to Petunia do you?
I Thank you, Miss Evans.
You're welcome Draco. And call me Heather.
With that, she turned and left the room, the young Slytherin following behind her.
The rest of the day was spent exploring Heather's house. Despite his contempt for Muggles, the many contraptions he found in the small cottage fascinated the boy. The fridge was one of the things that Draco found amazing. The fact that Muggles had come up with a method of preserving their food without a cooling charm had shocked the boy. He had always thought of Muggles as primitive and helpless, having never really been in their world before. After exploring the kitchen, Draco had moved into the living room, where he was awed by the gas fire and the television. The latter had almost scared him to death when Heather sat down in her favourite chair and switched it on. The idea of seeing the news with pictures rather that hearing it on the Wizarding Wireless was a novelty, and Draco was soon engrossed in the afternoon cartoons on BBC2. He couldn't wrap his mind around the fact that Muggles could make drawings move to tell a story. The fact that cartoons were aimed at younger children didn't bother the boy.
In the evening, Draco got his biggest shock yet. Light bulbs.
What the Draco exclaimed what it started to turn gloomy and Heather switched on the light.
It's just a light, Draco, Heather said.
But where did it come from?
The light bulb. Up there, she said, pointing at the ceiling. The boy stared at the lampshade and gasped.
Amazing! How does it work?
Heather let out a light laugh, a small smile on her face.
Electricity. It's the power that Muggles use, sort of like a controlled form of magic generated by machines. It's what most of the things in the house run off, including the fridge. You may think Muggles are helpless without magic, but that fact that they don't have it means that they have learned to adapt their lives to live comfortably without it.
So, how does the light come out of the light bulb?
Well, it has something to do with electricity and filaments, but I don't know exactly. I'll take you to the library later in the week and you can look it up if you want.
Muggles have libraries?
Draco played with the light switch for a while, fascinated with how a single switch could make the room light up instantly. And it never burned out like a candle did, and didn't dim after time like a lumos spell. In fact, it was far more efficient than the wizarding method.
Later that evening, Heather called for a takeaway, letting Draco taste his first ever pizza. At first he had been a little skeptical about eating Muggle food in case it was poisonous, but he soon got over it when he saw Heather taking big bites out of the pepperoni slice. Tentatively trying a forkful, he closed his eyes and moaned in pleasure as he tasted the melted cheese and tomato. Heather sent him a worried look before the boy opened his eyes and smiled slightly at her.
Not bad for Muggles.
I'm glad you like it. Not everything Muggle is bad.
Draco didn't respond, instead taking another bite of the pizza. Once the meal was finished and Heather had placed the dishes in the dishwasher, the pair sat down in front of the TV and watched Coronation Street. Eventually, during the adverts, Draco turned to his host and asked her something that had been bothering him.
What's going to happen to me? For the next two months I mean.
Well, if you want to stay here, I don't mind. I have the space, and to be honest I'm glad of the company. I don't have many friends, as there's always the danger of someone from the wizarding world finding out that I'm still alive. If, when you get back to Hogwarts, you take the information to Voldemort, there's nothing I will do to stop you. But for now, I'd like us to get on as best we can. We've already established that you can't stay in the wizarding world, and I doubt Petunia would be able to abate your hatred for Muggles any, so for now I think this is the safest place for you. Obviously, if you want to leave, I won't stand in your way.
I have little choice, then. I'll stay here. What will I do, though? I have two months here and nothing to do. I can't study magic if I can't practice the spells, and I can't read up on topics that don't need magic, because all of my books are at Hogwarts.
I'll see what I can do about getting your things. For the meantime, though, I think a trip to Canterbury would be appropriate.
It's the nearest city. Ten minutes in the car. We'll go tomorrow, and I'll show you around and we can get you some things for while you are here.
I thank you.
You're welcome, Draco.
Draco stood up and made his way over to the wardrobe and pulled it open. He was dismayed to find nothing but empty hangars and shelves. Sighing in frustration, he headed for a shower, taking with him the towels he had found on his bed the night before. When he had finished, he headed downstairs with the towel wrapped around his waist and went in search of Heather. He found her on the kitchen, cooking breakfast.
Um Heather, he said, grabbing her attention.
What is it, Draco?
What am I supposed to wear?
Heather pointed to the kitchen table, which had a pile of laundered and neatly folded clothes on it. Picking them up, Draco headed back upstairs to get ready. Twenty minutes later he was sitting opposite Heather eating a pile of hot buttered crumpets.
How are we getting to Canterbury, he asked as he finished off his tea. Heather set down the crumpet she was buttering and looked him in the eyes.
We'll be going in the car. I don't think you're quite ready to try the bus yet.
What's a car? Draco asked in confusion.
A car is a form of Muggle transportation. You'll see it after breakfast.
The blond nodded his head and worked at finishing off his crumpets. Once he was done, he made his way upstairs to get ready for the trip out. Once he was back downstairs, he pulled his cloak on and the pair headed outside. Draco hadn't seen the outside of the cottage yet, and he was awed by the garden full of multicoloured flowers. He wandered off immediately, investigating the pond area and herb garden, which was full of useful potions ingredients. Even though Heather lived as a Muggle, it was obvious she still kept some connections to her past. After a few moments, Draco heard his host clearing her throat, and he turned to follow her to the garage, where he assumed the car was kept. As Heather opened the door, he stared in confusion at the contraption inside.
What is that?
It's a car.
But it's so small!
It's called a Mini. They're supposed to be small. Most Muggles have larger cars, but I don't normally need one. This size is enough for my needs.
Going around to one side, Heather pulled open a door and held it for Draco. The blond looked at it skeptically before moving towards it.
Get in then, she said.
Draco did as asked, sitting in the small, uncomfortable seat. Heather got in the other side and pulled on her seatbelt. Draco stared at her in confusion until she explained what they were for. The wizard looked a little afraid at the idea of having an accident in a Muggle contraption, and it took the pair a good five minutes to get his seatbelt done up properly.
As Heather put the car in gear and pulled out of the garage, Draco let out a small scream. When he got used to the motions of the car, though, he started to enjoy himself.
It's not as fun as flying, or as quick as apparating, but it's not bad, he commented as they pulled into the car park in Canterbury.
See? Muggles solve problems differently than wizards, but no less effectively. I mean, have you ever heard of an aeroplane?
No, what's that? Draco asked as the pair got out of the car and Heather grabbed a small ticket from a machine.
It's a Muggle flying machine. You may have seen one in the sky and never known what it was. They are hundreds of times bigger than brooms, and have seats for Muggles to sit in. They aren't as maneuverable as brooms are, but they carry a lot more people, are more comfortable, and take you long distances in a short amount of time.
Draco was fascinated by this idea. He had never before considered the possibility that Muggles could fly.
But how do they get then to fly without the use of magic?
As I say, they don't have the use of magic, so they find a way around it. It's all based on physics. You can look up some physics books in the library when I take you on Friday.
I'll look forward to that.
By this time, the pair had made their way to the shops, and Draco noticed something immediately.
These are Muggle shops.
Of course they are, Heather said, patiently, Canterbury's wizarding district is one of the oldest, but also one of the smallest in the country. We would have to go to Diagon Alley if you wanted to get all wizarding things, and that's a risk I'm not prepared to take. I come here, because the local wizards are friendly and discreet. The few that did recognise me know how to keep their mouths shut. I sometimes venture into Hogsmeade, if I absolutely have to, but always under a disguise. Diagon Alley's a bit too public, even if I am disguised. I mean, if someone is seen walking in wizarding London with the Malfoy heir during term time, questions are going to be asked, and your father would find out. That would be bad for both of us.
I can see that, Heather, but this place is full of filthy Muggles!
Draco! she said in a warning tone.
No, I mean it. I may have seen that some Muggle creations are rather effective, Heather snorted at this, thinking of the light bulb incident. Draco continued, though, his tone becoming defencive.
I may now admit that Muggles aren't as weak as wizards think, but that doesn't mean I am prepared to spend too much time in their company. I mean, they're Muggles!
So were my parents, Draco, and that were good people. Strength doesn't matter. The use of magic doesn't matter. What matters, is if you know the difference between right and wrong, love and hate, prejudice and acceptance. Draco, Muggles are the same as us. They are the same species, as we are all human beings. They have the same drives and emotions; they just go about things differently.
As she was saying this, Heather had quietly been leading the pair into a quiet alley, where their conversation wouldn't be overheard. As a precaution, she threw up a quick privacy spell with her concealed wand. Draco, I full rant, didn't notice.
Tell me how, then. If we are so alike, show me the similarities and differences. Show me ways in which Muggles resist when wizards attack them. They can't! Because we have the power. We have the gift that they don't, and we should use it to show them who is greater.
Draco, just listen to yourself for a minute. You want examples? Fine! Think about it like this. Wizards have families, who they love and care for. Muggles are the same. Wizards have homes, which they maintain and are proud of. Muggles are the same. Wizards find jobs, to earn money to feed and clothe their families. Muggles do the same thing. Wizards have aristocrats, who are spoiled and think they own the world. Muggles do too. Some wizards kill, whether for sport, or pleasure, or war. Muggles do as well. The only differences are the ways they go about it. A wizard will kill with Avada Kedavra; a Muggle will shoot you with a gun, or stab you with a blade, use biological or chemical weapons, and even blow you up with a bomb. Draco, the end results are the same, it's just the methods that are different.
If that's so, then how come the Dark Lord has killed so many Muggles without any of the Death Eaters being killed? Draco asked, his voice starting to waiver. Heather smiled inwardly as she realised she was starting to get through to him. It would just take her a few days or weeks, and she would show Draco the wonders of the Muggle world.
What makes you think that? Have you ever been on a Death Eater raid?
Well then, I have. I have seen Muggles protect their families the same way wizarding victims do. They stand in front of their children to shield them, and try to fight back as best they can. The wizards and witches use wands, the Muggles use whatever they have available. Did your father never tell you that over the years of the Dark Reign in the 1960s and `70s, fourteen Death Eaters were killed by Muggles.
That's impossible! Draco yelped.
Is it? I've seen two myself. One was killed while raping a Muggle woman on the kitchen cabinets. She managed to reach over and grab a carving knife. She stabbed him in the back. Literally. He was dead in an instant. The other I saw was shot with a gun, right through the head, by a retired RAF officer.
If that's true, why have I never heard about it? Draco asked, his voice definitely threatening to break.
Do you really think the Death Eaters are proud of the fact that some of their victims were able to turn the tables on them? Do you really think they'd broadcast their shortcomings to those they are trying to entice into their ranks. Draco, if you think being a Death Eater is all Muggle torturing and parties, you are gravely mistaken. I know you have fifteen years of your father's influence, and have grown to hate Muggles, but I'm asking you to spend the next eight weeks with an open mind. You might discover for yourself that we are not so different. Please, just tell me that you'll try.
Draco mulled over her words for what seemed like an eternity. The idea that the Death Eaters were not all powerful was a little unsettling to the Malfoy heir, but he knew he could trust her words. After all, she had been there and seen it, even though she was an unwilling participant. It also made him realise that he was currently no more powerful than a Muggle himself. If he faced the Death Eaters now, he wouldn't stand a chance. With that thought, he made up his mind.
Heather gave him a broad grin, and dropped the secrecy spell, leading him out of the alley and into the bustling street.
That's good. Now, are you up for some shopping?
Good. Let's get cracking then.
The rest of the shopping trip went reasonably well after that. The pair headed down the main street and looked in the more modern clothes shops, finding things for Draco that the average Muggle teen would wear. Draco, unsurprisingly, rather enjoyed this part of the day trip, as he got to spend hours posing in front of the full length mirrors and parading up and down in different combinations of clothes. At first, the young Slytherin didn't have any idea of how to combine Muggle clothes, as most purebloods didn't. He wasn't as bad as the wizard at the Quidditch World Cup who had been wandering around in a kilt and a poncho, but he still managed to put together a football shirt and a sarong. Heather stood in the corner of the shops most of the time, giggling to herself like a teenager and shouting out tips for him. Eventually, by one o'clock, Draco had a whole new wardrobe. Despite his misgivings about anything Muggle, Draco had thoroughly enjoyed himself.
After eating in a small café down the road, the pair made a stop at the car to drop off the multitude of bags they had acquired before heading back out to spend some more money. Next, Draco was collecting a variety of knick-knacks he felt he couldn't live without. A quick trip to Boots took care of his toiletries, but after that he wanted to go in every shop that grabbed his fancy. He spent a good hour in the video shop before eventually leaving clutching three new videos. After a while, though, the pair became exhausted, and started to head back to the car. As they were strapping themselves in, Draco looked at the witch next to him and smiled faintly.
I really enjoyed myself today. Thank you.
You're welcome. Just don't expect this too often, I don't think my bank balance could take it!
For the next three days, Draco stayed at the small cottage and amused himself. Heather worked three days a week, so she couldn't take him out anywhere. By Friday, he was getting bored, though. He had watched The Lion King three times, and his other two videos were equally used. He had been for a walk around the small village he was staying in, going to the park and looking through the windows of the shops. As he didn't have any Muggle money, he didn't actually go in the shops, as he knew he would undoubtedly find things in there that he wanted and couldn't have.
Eventually, Friday came, and with it the much anticipated trip to the library. Draco hadn't slept much last night; he was so excited about it. When he examined the feelings, though, he was quite disturbed by his eagerness to experience new Muggle things. A week ago, when he was still at Hogwarts tormenting Potter, he would never have thought he would be enjoying the Muggle world. Now, though, he had been thrust into it with little choice for eight weeks, and he had to make the most of it. He was coping surprisingly well, considering he was a pureblood with no prior knowledge of anything Muggle.
That thought inevitably led to the reason for his relatively problem free transition from aristocratic pureblood wizard to penniless Muggle teenager. Heather. Heather, Draco thought, was a marvel. She had taken him into her home, clothed him, fed him, and explained things to him. She was under no obligation to do so, as she wasn't getting anything out of it. Draco also knew she had had bad experiences with his family from her time in the Death Eaters. When she had been a captive, both Caligula and Lucius had been actively supporting the Dark Lord, and she would have inevitably run into them frequently. Her younger sister, Lily, had also suffered insults and attacks from Draco's father while at school. Now, though, she had given him the benefit of the doubt, and helped him even though she knew he was to follow in his father's footsteps after he turned sixteen. When he thought about it, it was the same compassion and kindness that he had hated Potter for for all these years. Now, he appreciated it more than anything else.
Friday morning, Draco was hyperactive all throughout breakfast. He talked constantly about inane subjects, while Heather just looked on in amusement. Eventually, once the dishes were washed and put away, Draco helping by drying them, the pair left the house and started to walk into the village. Draco had been curious as the where the library was, as he had been all over the small village without seeing it once. The mystery was solved, though, when Heather came to stop outside of the local primary school.
Why are we at a school? Draco asked her in confusion.
Because the library is in the school. The village is that small, they didn't see the point in making a separate library, so the whole thing is in one building. That's not a problem, is it?
No, it's fine. I've been wondering all week where the library was, and this explains why I never found it.
The pair headed through the iron gates and up the driveway into the school. The library was at the far end, and to get there the two had to pass a multitude of Muggle children. Despite his promise earlier in the week, Draco still turned his nose up at the youngsters running around him. Eventually, they made it to the library, and Draco looked around in interest. It wasn't as big as the Hogwarts school library, but it did have quite a good selection of books.
Why don't you go and have a look around, Draco? If you want to take any out, let me know and I'll put it on my library card.
Sure, Draco answered before wandering off to look at the books.