Men are more moral than they think
and far more immoral than they can imagine.
~ Sigmund Freud
Sunday, August 20th ~ Evening
Izabel was thankful everyone had returned in one piece - more or less. The frostbite, cuts and scrapes from ice and nasty bite marks could be easily dealt with. The first thing she did was to move toward the kitchen. Harry had asked Dobby to forgo his normal day off and she wanted to see if he would get some hot soup ready for them if nothing else was wanted. She heard the pop of Apparantion and glanced over her shoulder at the motley crew that was appearing.
I am surprised Harry would allow Malfoy senior to come here, but he did his part and Draco is still unconscious.
Minerva hadn't wanted to accompany them, but had headed back toward the school saying now that all the professors were accounted for, she needed to get other things lined up for the new term. Izabel hadn't missed the hugs she'd given Vera and Adrian upon their return nor the slight chuckle that escaped her lips when she'd inquired if Draco was badly injured and found out the reason he was - silent.
The Prodigal Son Returns
They say that blood is thicker than water. Maybe that's why we battle our own with more energy and gusto than we would ever expend on strangers.
August 20, Evening
Aches and pains began to feel his body. The were welcoming pains, the pain of battle, of victory; the lord and the prince had returned. The lights of the manor beckoned them as they approached the door.
Lucius placed his hand on Draco's shoulder as they entered the manor, a barrage of house elves appearing, inquiring to take cloaks, offer refreshements. "Tell Mrs. Malfoy that we have returned," he commanded. "And bring the best wine from the cellar. Tonight, we celebrate."