Malfoy Manor
7:30pm on Sunday, the 4th of December

The white pebbles of the long walk leading from the road to the manor almost glowed, an eerie moonlit illumination leading the great bear of a wizard from the dark to the darker-yet house. He could see only one light on within. As he approached, his yellow ochre-colored robes sweeping the ground, and the mist gathering a wetness in his black hair and beard, he whistled. It was an old tune learned him by his aunties. By the time he reached the door, he was humming the last words.

"...killers, thieves, and lawyers."

KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK.

Knox Greyfriar listened to the giant knocker drop and echo in the looming empty halls.

He was half asleep in his study with a glass of whiskey in his hand.  He had thought, back when he bought the bottle, of how furious his father would of been that he had brought something muggle made into the manor. But he felt that the drink was smoother and with less kick than firewhiskey, it would do for an evening drink.  He had just sat his hand down from where he was slouched in the large armchair by the fire when he first heard the knock on the door, then his over-bearing and sometimes seemed sarcastic house-elf entered the room and told him that someone was knocking on the front door. 

He swore the creature was smirking when he said it and disappeared.  No, it wouldn't be going to open the door, out of all the house-elves, Draco had to find the one that thought menial things like opening the door were beneath him.

So with a deep breath, Draco hoisted himself out of his very relaxed state and with his whiskey in hand towards the front door.  Once he got there he stood up straight and attempted to bring himself into at least what would resemble someone being ready to accept company, but really all it was was a half-attempt to flatten the wrinkles from his shirt, straighten the simple brown vest he was wearing over it (although he didn't bother to button it back up), and ran his hand through his hair, which only served to make it looser and to have a few strands hanging into his face. 

Grasping the handle to the door, he opened it slowly, as if adding to the already creepy atmosphere of it being dark, and almost no lighting in the house at the moment.  Stepping out from behind the door he looked to see who it was.  As the person came into view, he bit back the retort that usually came to mind when he had unwanted visitors and cleared his throat with a small cough,

"Welcome to Malfoy Manor Headmaster, I see you received my owl."

The Headmaster strolled in and took in the foyer before he pivoted round to his host with a wide smile.

"You've no idea how much I welcomed it," Greyfriar said.

To be in the Malfoy house, to be standing before Draco Malfoy himself, it was an encounter with modern Wizarding history Knox had yet to experience. Back in the '90s, Knox Greyfriar had just been beginning his scholarship in the study of the past. He and his old friend Arthfael Oglesbee had, also at that time, run pittance guerrilla sorties against Snatchers in the north, far far away from the drama that unfolded here. Tribulations that would take years to become fully common knowledge, by which time young Draco became an orphan of Azkaban and the world moved earnestly towards some recovery.

The books written about those times never ceased to speculate on Draco Malfoy - and that's all it ever was. Speculation.

"What a grand house. A person could be swallowed up," he wondered.

Draco stood to the side as the Headmaster strolled into the home.  He grimaced a bit when the man said he welcomed being invited to his home.  He really didn't like the Manor anymore.  Being stuck here though, as he was the Malfoy head of house now and he couldn't get rid of the place if he wanted to.  Draco wanted to try and keep the manor for his son should he ever want it.

Taking a sip from the glass he still held in his hand, he commented, "Yes, I suppose so.  I often did when I was a young boy."

Then he remembered his manners, the ones drummed into his head while he was growing up, "Shall I offer you a drink or shall we get straight to business." he said as he closed the door.  The lights brightening as the door closed, the manor no longer looking gloomy in low light anymore.

Knox hadn't noticed the glass in Draco's hand until his host mentioned it, and Knox's face lit up. Among old Greyfriar's inborn abilities was being able to be comfortable with just about anyone and anywhere, to make merry at the drop of an owl. He was a man who'd lived a life, a man used to the privilege of his status, and a man of formidable figure - he played each like pieces on a chess board to his advantage and often to procure libations and hospitality.

"I've never arrived at business via anything other than a meandering odyssey, Mr. Malfoy. Lead us, lead us to thy liqueur cabinet," he said, his voice too loud for the echoing space. He began to walk away from the front door as if to search himself for where the two wizards might get to know each other.

"Have you any children, Mr. Malfoy?" he asked absently. Draco was of age when many got down to that particular business.

Draco smiled a bit when the man seemed to perk up and the mention of something to drink.  Well, he had plenty to choose from.  His current habit being to drink himself to sleep a few nights a week had led him to stock up on quite a selection of both muggle and wizarding drinks alike.  Although lately Draco had taken to the muggle stuff better, for some odd reason it left him with less symptoms the next morning than the magical stuff did.

"Right this way." Draco said and led the man to the sitting room right off the entrance to the manor.  He had moved everything there after realizing he didn't want to walk up two floors when he got home just to get a drink and then walk back down to get to his study to go over whatever post that he'd gotten and go over what needed to be done.  As his son didn't live with him, he didn't need to hide things away.  The rooms could of stayed where they were, but Lucius, idiotic man he was, had placed anti-apparition charms in the foundation of the manor when he moved in, therefore no one could apparate inside the manor. 

While Draco was enjoying the man's exuberance slightly, he couldn't help but wince at how loud it was in his near empty home.

They reached the sitting room and Draco didn't know what Greyfriar would be up to drinking so just pointed out his vast selection and sat down across from the fireplace, two couches and an end table away from the alcohol.  It wouldn't do for him to drink more right before giving the man half his library.

"Yes, a boy." Draco said shortly, "Lives with his mom in France."

Greyfriar savored the selection, taking his time to look at each bottle occasionally laying a hand to gently tip or turn one or the other for a better evaluation. He was mostly entranced by the variety; he was no connoisseur and was content with just about anything in the middle of the road.

"A son," Knox echoed thoughtfully. Known to only a few, Knox was a father and recently a grandfather. The former was a truth he found out seventeen years after the fact leaving little time to properly play the role. As to the latter, the complexities of family politics rendered his kinship to mere trivia. There was only cursory tragedy in this, for Knox, as he'd never esteemed to fatherhood anyway. He'd done a service to Devlin when needed and would again if asked, but the opportunity seemed unlikely to occur again.

He was probably silent too long. Maybe Draco would attribute it to Knox's inability to make a selection. In the absence of an opinion, Knox chose a familiar label, a gin. He helped himself.

"Is it concern for his future that you find yourself," he paused, amused with himself, "so biblio-philanthropic?"

Finishing the last of his whiskey, his house-elf came and refilled his glass without even being asked too, probably because he found working for Draco when he was drunk was a lot easier than working for him sober, Draco watched Greyfriar look carefully at the selection of alcohol before eventually picking something and pouring himself a drink.

Draco was momentarily lost in thought as his mind drifted to what his son could be doing at the moment.  He knew that he was going to have the boy here in a couple weeks and lasting until after the new year, he was still mostly dreading it because he had no idea what to do with his son now that he was older and was developing his own tastes.

"Not really, no. Most of the books I'm donating are of a darker nature, I've kept everything that has to do with Potions, Herbology, and the like.  Even though I know most of it, sometimes it's just easier to look it up.  Basically I'm donating my father's books.  I'm still working on building up my stock of books, but I have no desire for anything of that man's belongings in my home anymore." And with that he took a huge swallow from his glass, coughing slightly after swallowing.

Knox nodded along as he took his time joining Draco in having a seat.

"As yes. I know a thing or two about scrubbing away the past. It's always been interesting to me to find out what remains after, don't you?"

He settled into the chair and lifted the glass in a cursory toast.  Gin always tasted cold no matter its actual temperature. Somehow cold and warming at the same time.  He rested the glass on his knee.

"You'll forgive an old man's spite, but I can't help but take a bit of selfish pleasure in populating the shelves of Hogwarts library with any knowledge that Lucius Malfoy thought should be withheld from the majority of our students. Though what you've saved for yourself - the potions, herbology- I might try to convince you to let me take those as well."

He chuckled, "now that I mention it, I don't get quite enough post from angry parents. Perhaps I could tempt you with a dedicated shelf or few. The Draco Malfoy Herbology Reference Endowment... We could put up a lovely plaque."

The Headmaster was truly joking, but did find amusement in a bit of chaos in a magical education.

Draco couldn't help himself but chuckle at the Headmaster's idea to have a shelf in the library named after him.  Now that he thought about it, it would be downright hilarious.  He could practically see Granger's hair frizzing up at the sight of something like that, him  having a plaque in the library and not her.

"While I'm sure that would be interesting to say the least, I am pretty sure there would be a first time for vandalism in the library should you choose to do so."

He looked at the man, "I won't be willing to give up my Potions and Herbology related texts, but I might be willing to let you copy some."

He was a business man at heart, he wouldn't let them go for just anything.... or anyone.

"Of course, anything really dark, I am afraid I've had destroyed.  It was a good night, I had a nice drink, and a bonfire lit up the night. " The mere thought of setting fire to those books Lucius had kept hidden in his private study had him grinning.

"Ooof...!" Greyfriar shook his head and tsked in personal lament. "Book burning. That's not a little too dystopian for you? Terrible, terrible waste," he rumbled without any trace of anger. Just the same presumptive air that his opinion was always wanted.

"At least it seems to have brought some color to you," Knox had to admit. "Me, I can't seem to discard anything - even things I might want to forget. I'll hide them away and vainly hope I'll never find them again. Make every effort to stow them away in some prison I could never again stumble upon or that I'm assured will become rat food. But the inverse is always true, you know? Anything sought is never found, and yet a bare foot will find a single lost jack."

He sipped his drink, not feeling at all rushed to measure his welcome here.

"Why might that be, do you think?"

"Um.. I don't know." Draco answered, he wasn't sure what the man was talking about and sure, burning the books probably wasn't the best idea in the world, but it had been so cathartic to burn things that his father had spent years and money on collecting. 

Mmm. He'd been rude, Knox realized to late, forgetting that not everyone would hang on his every word. He simultaneously heard both Hannah Bombay (his most honest friend) and Meredith (his most wise ex-wife) admonishing him for being a bloviate.

"Forgive me, Mr. Malfoy! Please, allow me to release you from my imposition on your hospitality and - how did you say it? Get down to business. I'm eager to see books, unsinged and unwanted."

He stood from the chair and put a hand in his pocket and did all he could with his posture to indicate he'd follow meekly onward.

Draco shook himself out of his momentary stupor and stood up as he drained his glass and left it on the side table to the right of where he'd been sitting.  "No imposition, I just do not have many social graces anymore. No need for them when you rarely have guests."

He walked out of the sitting room and slowly led the Headmaster up one floor to the library.  As a child he would frequently lose himself in how big the room was, but as an adult, he had long realized that even though his library was pretty sizable, it wasn't the biggest library he'd ever been in.

He opened the double doors and flicked his wand to make the fireplace roar to life and the sconces on the wall to bring light into the room.  "Well, here it is. The shelves on the bottom are the ones you can look through and take as many as you want, I've separated what I want and they are on the top shelves.  You can look though, and copy any one of those books you like."  Draco paused by the door and just relished the sight of the library.

As much as he hated this house and how he felt living in it, this room was still his favorite.

Knox was awed, truly not prepared for the extravagance of the Malfoy's personal library - both the space and the volume of books. He clasped his hands behind his back and walked the room in a wide circle. He navigated between leather chairs and green-glass shaded lamps on beautiful desks.  The windows, open to the dark of the evening, were dressed in luxurious curtains, covered in dust as they were. Overhead, stoic chandeliers of course. And everywhere, both subtly and plain-to-see, the Malfoy family crest.

Awed that he was, he Headmaster of Hogwarts was not short of things to say.

"Marvelous. I'd like to say that in my youth, had I access to a collection like this in my home, I would have nourished my mind driven by curiosity, but, truthfully I was a layabout. Look at this, first edition."

He'd slid out a treatise on Transfiguration from the 1450s. He replaced it and continued on. In another section, all grouped together, were dozens of more current (well, 1990s) volumes on the American wizarding courts system. Knox straightened up from his leanings and raised his wand.

"Do you mind? Accio books on history."

The sound of sliding leather preceded a flock of books sweeping through the air obediently, all to land in neat stacks in front of him. However, a certain tome seemed to struggle in its trajector. When it arrived, it careened into pile of previously summoned books and began to shout at him.

"Mudblood! Mudblood! Mudblood!" came its raspy voice. "Lucius! Narcissa! Mudblood in the library!"