Blood & Bind

{ CHAPTER SIX }

– Draco – 

Granger. 

Draco closed the door to the compartment, reveling in the grimace that appeared on her face as if on cue. She looked utterly displeased to see him. He expected nothing less. 

Well, she looks different , he noted. It was striking how different she looked like this. Her hair was pulled back for once, though small tendrils stuck out on their own, and she wasn’t in her school robes (but neither was he); she was instead wearing a beige knit jumper with small flecks of color strewn in, and denim pants that didn’t look comfortable to him. 

He had intended for a leisurely stroll through the train’s compartments, with no particular direction in mind when he discovered her sitting alone, unsurprisingly nose deep in a book almost twice her size. The book in her hands was the only thing he truly recognized. 

His intentions for wandering were purely to preoccupy himself, also alone, on the long ride back to London since the others had stayed behind for the holidays; unlike him, most of his peers in House Slytherin did not have families nor fond memories to return to this time of year. 

Draco knew upon his arrival, his mother would have the Manor elegantly decorated with suspended fresh hollies, evergreen winter spruces and shimmering silver ornaments; the house elves would have sweets prepared, and warm butterbeer garnished with ginger on top upon request. Draco’s father would be in his study, owling out the invitations to colleagues at the Ministry in preparation for the extravagant holiday gala his mother threw every year. The winter holidays at Malfoy Manor were always memorable and magical… 

So, there were hardly any questions he had as to why Blaise and Theo remained behind at Hogwarts; they did not share the same experiences. Where Blaise had only his mother, she often took off on lavish holidays abroad with her countless new beaus for months at a time. When she did return home, Blaise usually seemed to prefer it if she hadn’t at all. 

While Zabini was not one to voluntarily express his more resentful thoughts out loud very often, Draco had been around long enough to recognize the sentiments and not ask questions. 

Theo, on the other hand, only had his father – and just barely at that. 

Nott Sr. wasn’t a kind man by any stretch of the imagination, and rarely did he care for his son as his own unless it were socially beneficial to him. It was almost as if Theo were more of a son to Lucius and Narcissa, since they often tended to treat him as their own flesh and blood when he did stay at the Manor for extended periods of time; Theo had spent nearly entire summers at Malfoy Manor over the years, so Draco was a little put out that he was not returning to the Manor with him this time. 

Nott was strange like that, though – he did not want the Malfoys to have to take him in for the holidays, because it reminded him of what he didn’t have and didn’t belong to; and because of that , Draco never pressed him on it. 

Crabbe and Goyle never talked much about their holidays; Draco knew their fathers well, and they always attended the galas at the Manor. Unless they were off causing trouble, the two boys found the galas to be uptight and boring; and they cared more about food than anything else, opting for all the sweets Hogwarts could offer so they stayed behind this year. Draco was rather grateful for that. 

So, he was travelling back home by himself. Which brought him back to the present moment, grinning at the scowling girl across from him.

“Had to pay me one more visit before you’re left to your own devices for two weeks, did you?” She asked, attempting to sound scathing but instead she sounded tired. He smirked. 

“Well, seeing as Potter and Weasley are staying back at Hogwarts,” Draco said, settling into the seat across from her, “and so are my lot, it seems we’ve got all the time in the world to ourselves till this train stops.” 

“So, you’re subjecting yourself to my presence, and I to yours?” Her face was scrunched up as if it were the worst idea she’d ever heard. It amused Draco that she couldn’t ever seem to gauge his intentions, and the fact that it confused and disgruntled her was simply an added benefit. “Why?”

“You said it yourself. Two weeks is a long time, consider it a parting gift.” 

“How generous,” Hermione remarked sullenly, returning her attention back to the book in her hands. Draco rolled his eyes. Does she really think she can ignore me?  

They sat in silence for a few moments, with nothing but the sound of the tracks beneath the train and the snowy scenery outside blurring by. Like their moments in the library, she huffed in annoyance and Draco found it ridiculous, yet fascinating, whenever she’d peer up through her lashes as if he’d simply just disappear. I bet she wishes she knew a spell for that, too . 

“I’m not sure what’s colder, Granger, the frozen grounds outside or your lack of hospitality,” He commented, earning a fierce glare in return. 

“Forgive me when there’s unwanted company,” she rebuked frostily, setting her book down on the seat next to her with a thud. Her fingers pressed into her temples, and when she opened her eyes they were still narrowed at him. This is too easy . “I was minding my business, something you could learn to do, you know.”

“But where’s the fun in that?” He drawled.

Silence. She was unamused. Given our record, she can’t ignore me for very long if I keep prodding . 

“Looking forward to the holiday?” Draco asked, feigning innocent curiosity. He was right, of course – this only seemed to poke her irritability more, as he knew it would. However, she seemed to consider the question with only mild suspicion. He watched her careful movements, tucking her bookmark back into the pages and calmly closing the covers before meeting his eyes. Draco couldn’t help the swell of satisfaction at having her full attention. 

“Do you even care, Malfoy?” She asked with a sigh, setting her book down on the seat next to her. “Do you only ask so you can remind me that you’ll have a better one?” 

“Well, I’m sure my mother has the manor exquisitely decorated, just in time to host one of her spectacular holiday parties, and of course that’s followed by the Christmas dinner laid out by the elves—,”

“— I didn’t ask for details .” Hermione snapped through her teeth, effectively silencing him. Malfoy blew out a low whistle, giving her a lazily amused raise of his brow. She looked thoroughly vexed. 

“What about you, then?” Draco asked.

“What about me?” 

He gave her a look as if it were obvious, “What are your holidays like in the Muggle world?” 

“Why would I tell you that?” Hermione scoffed, “you’ve made it glaringly obvious that nobody else lives up to your posh standards, so why should I even tell you what a traditional muggle’s holiday is like?” 

The way she venomously spit the word muggles back at him didn’t go unnoticed; it was the reason for her attitude, and he supposed he should have seen that coming. Well, she is returning to her muggle parents… it’s not like it wasn’t obvious. I was merely asking a valid question. 

“Humor me,” he said with a roll of his eyes. 

She was looking back at him with utter distrust, and while he knew why, he found it unexplainable to himself why his curiosity took over when it came to her. He briefly thought back to Theo’s comments at dinner a few nights ago… 

“ …after the way she confronted you during flying lessons Malfoy, you've taken an interest in scowling in her direction, or taunting her in classes. You know she's Muggleborn, yeah? ”

He had believed then that she fit the descriptions his father always instilled in him, but perhaps his curiosity peaked around her because she seemed different from the muggleborns his father had always described? He couldn’t be sure. Muggleborns were supposed to be daft and boorish – and while her temper bordered on uncouth, she was nowhere near witless. 

If anything, he found sparring with her to be quite stimulating, and she came off very different from the Muggleborns he’d been warned about. Draco thought back Theo’s comment the night they left the library, heading down to the pitch to watch the match between Slytherin and Gryffindor ( Theo has been raising a lot of comments as of late )…

{ flashback }

He had only been trying to intimidate her to spill her secrets the way Slytherins knew best: by prodding the information you already know out of somebody who thinks you don't . She's trying to play it off like she's not just been caught in the Restricted Section, like I couldn't see the books she'd pulled off the shelves!

Draco didn't really care she had snuck into the Restricted Section, per se; the Slytherin in him admired her exceptional rule breaking (and simultaneously loathed it, because despite her foolhardy actions, she's always preaching the bloody rules – the same rules that she accepts as fact for everyone else but blatantly ignores for her own benefit. And Potter and Weasley’s as well, it seems, now that they’re inseparable… not to mention Dumbledore’s lack of discipline where Gryffindors are concerned… ), but there was a bigger part of him that solely wanted to hear her admit that she knew was doing it intentionally; he already knew why - it's too tempting not to seek all that controversial knowledge, of course. ‘Restricted’ doesn’t exactly mean ‘inaccessible’, and what with becoming the school’s biggest bloody know-it-all, how could she ever resist? 

"Why else does one sneak into the Restricted Section?" Draco smirked, staring down his nose at her. It was the scrunch of her own and the dip in her brows that told him she would somehow challenge him on this or work her way around the real answer. I’m finding that she always does .

“— Malfoy! There you are!" A loud voice echoed through the library then, snapping Hermione's gaze away from him to find the source. His eyes cut over to Nott, who was still speaking too loudly about the upcoming Quidditch match and garnering far more attention to them than Draco preferred. He gave Theo a look that warned him to shut up , and Madam Pince was quick to silence them with a shush and a harsh look of her own between the three. Theo didn’t look even the slightest bit remorseful. Great timing, Theo...

Draco turned back to see her expression grow blank, but her eyes held a roguish glint. He was growing impatient.

"Don't you have a Quidditch game to watch?" Hermione countered ruefully. She's trying to act innocent now, as if she didn’t just interrogate me for personal gain. Well, I'm not fooled...and Theo is just a nosy prat with poor timing. If he hadn't shown up, I wouldn't let this conversation be over just yet. She’s lucky I don’t want to make it a spectacle.

"Nice deflection, Granger." Draco scoffed. Her stare back was almost daring, but Draco simply plucked his bag off the desk without looking away. If she wanted a challenge, he could keep up (and would). She won't tell me anything while there are others around, but I bet if we had had more time she would have. I’ve gotten her to talk before. This isn’t over. "Have it your way, but don't think I'll forget this."

He could feel her eyes on him as he left the library with Theo in tow. 

Draco was dragging him by the back of his robes, ignoring the other Slytherin’s exaggerated protests as they headed for the pitch, feeling immensely disgruntled by Nott's impeccable timing, as well as his friend's ability to be unbearably keen when something caught his attention. Theo tried to sound casual as he fixed the collar of his robes back into place, and asked with a raised brow, “Seeking her out in the library now, Malfoy?” Draco shot him a bored scowl, despite expecting this sort of assumption. Theo simply shrugged and added, “Though I suppose she’s not that hard to find in the one place she’s always at.”

“Well, I’m pleased to tell you that you're wrong, Nott, because she sought me out,” Draco dismissed with the roll of his eyes. He didn’t miss the way Theo’s brows rose higher, but before he could comment, Draco turned to give him a questioning look of his own. “And I hardly see you in the library enough to know that, so what are you even getting at?”

“Please,” Theo snorted, amused, yet making it look unconvinced. “You already know I prefer my studying in solitude unless my participation is required elsewhere, and I'm not quiet enough for that stuffy librarian." That’s an understatement. .. "But we're not talking about me, we’re talking about Granger, and when it comes to her all leads point back to… the library! Her moniker as ‘bookworm’ is an obvious deduction, and when she’s not in the library she’s carrying around books she’s just checked out of the library, so everyone knows she doesn't stray for very long. Including you.”

“And so, you assumed that meant I must be in the library, too?” Draco retorted, nonplussed. He hadn’t been looking for her, but finding her amongst the Restricted Section was rather interesting; it certainly raised some questions. He couldn’t help his curiosity – she had been researching something dark that led her to breaking the rules, and he wanted to know just what… and then of course, she couldn’t leave him alone, asking questions of her own. Why doesn’t he just ask Granger himself what her motives are, if he’s so curious? Instead he badgers me about mine. 

“You’re almost as bad as her when it comes to the books, mate.” Theo smirked, “But I figured if I could find Granger, I’d probably find you not too far. Watching you two bicker is interesting to say the least…”

{ end of flashback }

Shaking the thought from his head, Draco’s focus turned back to the frazzled, still bushy-haired girl across from him. Her chin was lifted in that defiant tilt he knew quite well already, and she was looking down her nose at him while she calculated his words. He didn’t look away while he waited for her to speak. 

“Perhaps you’d like to tell me what it was you were in the Restricted Section for then, instead?” He contended. “Since we’ve got all this time.”

Her glare turned icy, and she opened her mouth to answer, heavily contemplating what she should say. Draco watched her thoughts battle with themselves, before she settled on, “Fine. If you must know about my holidays… my parents will likely have the tree decorated, without magic, and my mum will get up early to have breakfast ready on Christmas morning. She loves to cook when they’re home. As for my father, he’ll probably sit in his favorite chair and read the newspaper before we sit down by the tree and exchange gifts. My mum likes to get a little carried away with the Christmas shopping… She's always spoiling us, and I’m certain we’ll see a show at the theatre on Shaftesbury Avenue, in London, sometime after Boxing Day…”

Draco noticed her expression grew rather fond as she drifted off, and for a moment he didn’t have anything to say; he didn’t expect her to actually tell him anything at all, let alone all that. She really isn’t going to answer the latter, is she? 

She seemed to be gauging his reaction, probably waiting for his snark in return. 

“What’s it like without magic?” He asked dumbly. Stupid question . 

Her lips curved up the tiniest bit and she avoided his gaze suddenly. She said, “Christmas is still magical, without real magic, you know.” 

“I don’t.” Draco shook his head. “It doesn’t sound real.” 

“Well, that’s because you’ve always known about it,” she stated matter-of-factly, meeting his eyes once more with a level gaze. “My parents always made Christmas feel like magic, before I ever even knew about my own… The excitement of putting up the tree, stringing the decorations up one by one, my mum playing Christmas carols around the house…

“My father always detested candy, because of their profession, but he sneaks a few pieces into my hands on Christmas Day,” she said with a small laugh, “My parents create the magic of Christmas, they’ve always made it what it is.”

Draco watched her play with the hem of her sleeve as she spoke, her words echoing in his mind, and lingering between them. That’s because you’ve always known about it. 

She was right.

How strange, or boring, it must be to return to a world with no magic... Of course, she possesses magic, so she isn’t entirely without ; Draco found it unfathomable, whereas she seemed to simply accept it. 

He knew he was staring at her again, at a loss for what to say next. Though he had plenty of questions he didn’t intend to ask… 

“I suppose it’s only fair to ask you then,” Hermione said, pulling his focus back, “you said your mother will have decorated, but I imagine that’s not without magic. What are the Christmas galas like?”

Draco chuckled, resisting the urge to roll his eyes now that she was suddenly interested. I didn’t ask for details! She’d snapped at him previously. Though he supposed he could humor her in return, since there was still a long stretch of tracks before the train reached London, and he had no intentions of leaving her alone in the meantime. 

“They’re charity galas, mostly for my father’s benefit, but to support the Ministry as well,” Draco started. “My mother loves to host events just as much as she loves shopping in Paris, and she would probably host one every other night if there weren't so much traffic in and out of the Manor. It’s to seal powerful connections and generate the many generous contributions to aid Ministry funding. My father donates a lot of money to Ministry projects and policies that go into effect. Holds a very influential position amongst many seats in the Wizengamot and the Minister himself because of that.”

Her face displayed a look of unease, with a slight crinkle of her nose as she said, “that doesn’t exactly sound like a quiet Christmas at all.”

“It’s not,” Draco agreed, “but the dinner the elves put together on Boxing Day is just for my parents and me. It’s a much more relaxed evening in contrast.”

“The elves?” She asked with a curious look. Draco nodded his head. 

“The house elves that belong to Malfoy Manor,” he informed her. “They work for us; they cook and clean, they tend to the grounds inside and out, amongst other tasks they’re given. I was even raised by some of them.”

“Like servants?”

“Exactly,” he shrugged. She gasped, horrified by the thought. Her eyes practically bugged out of her skull, while Draco couldn’t understand why she cared so much. “They serve the noble House of Malfoy, of course. Hogwarts has elves of their own, how else do you expect our food and clothes to be taken care of? Magic can only do so much for that many students.”

This only seemed to upset her more, however. 

“But they’re… do they rest? I mean surely, they must get tired of working all the time–”

“–Don’t let them hear you say that,” he warned her. “I can’t imagine why you think that. They live to serve; every Pureblood household has elves to take care of menial things. Besides, they prefer the work.”

“How can you say that?” Hermione cried, her knuckles practically white and curled into fists at her sides. Draco crossed his arms, sitting up straight as she went off on a tangent about magical creatures and humane treatment; she’s having a crisis about bloody elves … 

“Merlin, Granger shut it!” He snapped. Her words were lost on her tongue at his tone, and her expression soured further, “believe me when I say the elves prefer it this way. It’s all they’ve ever known, you won’t change their minds any more than you’d change the society they work for.”

“That’s wrong!” She argued with a furious huff. 

“That’s across generations of Pureblood families; it’s tradition if anything.” Draco couldn’t suppress the roll of his eyes. Just because she thinks it's wrong, doesn't make it so. While this didn’t placate her, she had eventually calmed down a bit and was no longer ranting about unfair treatment and rights and other hogwash at least. The silence in the compartment amplified the crackle of tension around them, and Draco couldn’t help but study her while she glared out the window. 

In relation to the other absurd things that require no effort to upset her, of course she’d take a virtuous stance on the treatment of creatures such as the elves . He briefly pondered this as undoubtedly another reason why the Sorting Hat had taken so long to place her – while Ravenclaw should have been the obvious placement, Gryffindor was the proper one. 

The thought that always plagued him though was her blood. It immediately negated any realistic chance of Slytherin, which he found to be quite tragic considering how premeditated she could be when it wasn’t sabotaged by her reckless bravery. Chasing danger head on , he had grumbled to himself after their spat in the Restricted Section. 

Though he would never admit it out loud, he often imagined the possibility of her in green and silver robes, instead of red and gold. Her bloodlust for knowledge would certainly thrive in the snake’s den, with the ability to forge powerful connections and advance her magical prowess, she could have been an unstoppable asset to Slytherin House. If she had even merely been a half-blood, that would give her more credibility amongst magical society.

And if that had been the case, he would have made it a point to befriend her first, before anyone else had had the chance. With her sharp wit, articulate vocabulary, and keen attention to detail, and perhaps if she had even a partial understanding of Pureblood doctrines, she could have been a respectable contender for courtship in his parents’ eyes one day. Sure, they would express their displeasure of a half-blood daughter-in-law, but they would come around; his parents had plenty of half-blood acquaintances.

While Draco was still years off from such planning, his parents had always reminded him of the duties he would eventually step into, and thinking ahead was simply staying proactive. That included being cognizant of the potential wife that would represent him and the estate someday. 

Not that Hermione Granger held that potential in any regard. 

Her blood status being the obvious reason, but also her lack of refinement and penchant for spiteful disobedience. Draco couldn’t help but feel bad for the man who ever attempted to reign her in if her attitude was any indication of the strong-willed woman she would become. He was willing to admit that her ability with magic was well practiced already, in years time it would certainly be powerful. Granger scorned and wielding a wand should send even a halfwit running in the opposite direction … 

With her tendency to display a ruthless and cunning need to be first where intellect was involved, he almost laughed to himself at the thought of her in Hufflepuff; I’d bet galleons thatblood be damned,the Snakes would sort her before the ‘Puffs ever did, he thought. She isn’t kind nor humble enough for them, and they would certainly only quash her capabilities trying to reform her. 

“Earth to Malfoy!” She was standing in front of him now, waving a hand before his eyes and scowling down at him when his focus returned. Draco blinked at her, schooling his features as she tsked at his disassociation. “I asked you a question. The least you could do is give me your full attention if you’re subjecting me to your company.”

“Come again?” He asked amused, nonchalantly obliging her demand. She gave him a look as he reigned his attention in to conceal his previous thoughts, and Hermione rested her hands on her hips like his mother often did whenever she was delivering a proper scolding. 

“Since you brought up the Restricted Section before, I asked if it was you who snitched to Madam Pince because I suspected you had something to do with it! But at the time I couldn't be certain when you yourself admitted you use its references…” Hermione trailed off, and the demanding tone she started with lost its vigor while she thought out loud. She was still expectantly awaiting his answer, however. Draco scoffed. 

First, she snaps at me for getting comfortable in the same quarters, only to try and give me the silent treatment (and undoubtedly wishing for my disappearance the entire time)… then she's convinced enough (well, more deflecting again) to actually tell me about her holidays… next she's suddenly ranting about house elves and Purebloods taking advantage of magical creatures (rudely admonishing my family’s inclusion), and now she's rounded back to accuse me of tattling on her over books (that she had no problem accessing prior) I've already looked into before ever stepping foot in Hogwarts... Mental! She's really all over the place … and up until I found her there, I hadn’t had a reason to go into the Restricted Section. Not to mention, I don’t intend to tell Madam Pince that either of us were in there. Did she really consider that I would snitch without having to explain myself, too? I could lie my way out of it, of course, but I’m not losing my chance of finding her there again… besides, after the holidays Madam Pince will have other things to focus on, I’m sure. She worries too much…

“It wasn’t me.” He answered simply. Her next argument immediately deflated, and Draco enjoyed watching her shoulders sink with the growing pout on her lips. 

“Somebody had to have told her,” She stated, looking unconvinced. “But she hasn’t let on if she knows it was me… it’s just that she’s been hovering around the entrance for the last week or so since, stopping any students from getting within even five feet.”

“Trying to sneak another look at the restricted materials again, are you?” Draco smirked. She’s always telling on herself . All he had were bits and pieces, but it was only a matter of time; he would figure it out soon enough, he just had to convince her to let her guard down again. Despite how often she reminds me I’m a nuisance (and the feeling is mutual), Granger loves to talk just as much as she loves to be right (and unlucky for her, that feeling is also mutual) . “Think about it, Granger. If I had wanted to snitch on you, I would have told Madam Pince it was you in the first place. Except then I would have also had to explain how I knew that and as much as I’d love to see you score a detention or two for it, how would I inevitably catch you in the act again when we return?”

Hermione sighed loudly. 

“I had thought of that… I just thought for sure somehow you were the reason.”

Draco couldn’t explain why her words sent an exciting thrill through him; he didn’t dare explore the reason, either. He could admit that it was entertaining though, knowing her thoughts automatically pointed to him.

“Unsurprisingly, you thought of me.” He remarked with a grin. She glared at him.

“For the record, you won’t catch me again,” Hermione snapped, crossing her arms. Oh, but I know I will. 

“Are you willing to bet that?” Draco challenged with a derisive snort. He was certain she was about to counter his snark with a haughty rebuke when the train began to lose steam, cutting their conversation short as they both turned to see the station come into view. The train slowly came to a full stop at the platform, and all too soon it seemed that time had passed in a blur. 

They exchanged a look as if they both had more to say, and for once it seemed they both wished for more time; Draco stood up from the seat then, and made to exit the compartment, stopping just before the door to turn back with one last look over his shoulder at her. He offered a parting, “Happy Christmas, Granger. I shall look forward to hearing your swot again on the next train ride back in two weeks' time.”

He couldn't see it, but Draco was certain she shot him a nasty look given the sound of her offended huff, and he smirked to himself as he left her behind. His steps felt lighter with the image in mind, and with his belongings already shrunk down, he wasted no time as he made his way off the train. 

Stepping off of the platform, Draco spotted his mother immediately; her dark and silver hair was pulled back from her face, exposing the elegant and strikingly recognizable noble Black features. His father was not in attendance like he had been when Draco left for Hogwarts – this was to be expected though; Lucius Malfoy was a busy man.

Dark green, emerald robes cloaked his mother’s tall figure, and she enveloped him in a warm hug that rivaled the crisp aura she gave off standing amongst the other families waiting around her. 

"My dragon!" She hummed quietly, resting her cheek atop his head. "I've missed you."

"I've missed you, mother," Draco affirmed, letting her whisk him away from the crowd as they made their way to the apparition point outside King's Cross Station. 

She grabbed his arm tight, wasting no time and he felt the familiar pull tugging at his body, before they were met with the encasing wards surrounding the Manor.

xXx

It had only been one day since his arrival home. 

It was Christmas eve. The Manor was bustling with elves in preparation for the charity gala, and Draco had been advised by his father to stay out of the way until he had to be present. So, he had spent the majority of his time practicing his flying around the frozen grounds or holed up in the family library staying ahead of his schoolwork (that could surely wait until classes resumed, however, he was determined to show Granger that she wasn't the only one invested in her studies). The thought made him smirk to himself. 

Draco was currently flying above the frozen lake that sat on the outskirts of the estate. The bitter cold nipped at the tip of his nose and the peaks of his cheeks, tinging his usually pale skin with a shade of pink as he circled lazily above the ground. The snow blanketed the vast expanse, with untouched, glistening frost and ice that stretched for miles as far as he could see. 

Winters at the Manor were his favorite, though the warmer months called for better Quidditch and flying practice conditions, Draco admired how pristine the Manor looked shrouded in a snowy calm. One day this would all be his; it was a rather daunting thought in some parts, but his father was always preparing him to step into the role as head of household - from growing their powers through extensive business dealings, to increasing financial gains and exchanges in the Malfoy accounts, to protecting the family reputation and beliefs, to boundlessly strengthening the estate wards and ancestral protections, there was very little Draco was not aware of when it came to his father's responsibilities that would someday be his own. His father was very thorough in his lessons.

“Master Draco!” Dobby, one of the Manor elves, was calling him from the ground below, “Your presence is requested in the drawing room. It is requested that I bring you there.”

Draco descended without delay. He grabbed a hold of the elf’s waiting hand and they disapparated with a loud crack, before Draco found himself standing in the middle of the ancestral drawing room. He turned his broom over to Dobby, and his mother, who was sitting in one of the armchairs at their arrival, spoke up, “Thank you, Dobby. Please, fetch us some tea. I want to catch up with my son.” She dismissed the elf with a nod. Bowing, Dobby disappeared with a snap of his fingers at once. 

“You requested to see me, mother?” Draco asked, taking the seat across from her. Narcissa smiled. He had missed his mother dearly; growing up, tea and sweets out by her lavish rose garden was how they spent their afternoons, when Lucius was not teaching him to be the Malfoy heir. 

“I did. With the final preparations in place for the gala tonight, and the elves managing the rest of the festivities, I have some time to myself while your father is out on business. He will return later but for now, I want to hear about your experiences at school. I appreciate your letters, but they’re not the same as having you in front of me, Draco. So, tell me, how are you settling in?”

“Slytherin is the best House, of course,” Draco drawled with a boyish smirk, just as Dobby returned with a tray of warm tea and fresh pastries. He disappeared without a word, and Draco continued, “You’re aware of my friends, of course. Crabbe and Goyle are no different,” Narcissa rolled her eyes with a knowing nod, “Theo is a bit of a prat at times, he likes to pester me about things, but he mostly keeps to himself. Blaise is Blaise… I’ve been doing well with my studies, Outstandings and Exceeds Expectations . I spend a lot of time in the library between classes…” His mother nodded along, and Draco tried to keep his thoughts off the library and a certain Gryffindor.

“Yes, Snape has told your father you are exceptionally talented in Potions already – just like your father.” She hummed appreciatively. “You mentioned your classmate, Harry Potter, in a few of the letters you sent to your father. I heard you’ve been having a difficult time because of him.”

Draco scowled at the mention of Harry Potter, tilting his chin ever so slightly as he said, “Yes, Potter has been troublesome. His friends, too… another Weasley, and a muggleborn…”

“That would be the Granger girl you wrote to your father about, yes? I believe you said she claims to know better than you about magic?” His mother asked with a short, incredulous laugh. Hearing her name caused Draco to sit up straighter, nodding in affirmation. 

“Yes, that’s her. Father once said there was a possibility that Potter was bestowed with Dark magic, and I didn’t believe that after he denied my hand at friendship and was then sorted into Gryffindor, but he’s got Granger looking up Dark magic for him. They think they’re above the rules, mother.”

“From your letter, it sounds like you have to deal with them a lot.”

“Mostly Granger,” Draco admitted. For once, he felt compelled to lie to his mother; that while he and Granger shared most, if not all, of their classes together, he often sought ways to interact with her outside of their classes as well. He could feel his mother’s eyes boring into him, as if looking for more information he wasn’t sharing; he explained, “She’s always in the library.”

“Yes, you mentioned that in your letter as well,” She nodded again, taking a sip from her tea as she collected her thoughts. “Tell me, Draco, are there any girls in your House that you’ve made the acquaintance of? Anyone that father and I would like to meet perhaps?” 

Draco knew what she was asking – have you met and spent time with any respectable witches who aren’t muggleborn? He had only ever mentioned Granger. 

Draco thought back to his classmates, trying to come up with a few names he could remember; there was Millicent Bulstrode, a half-blood, who was regrettably unforgettable due to her bullish looks and rather dumpty nature. Draco shivered, banishing her from mind entirely. 

There was Daphne Greengrass, the eldest daughter of the respectable, pureblooded , Greengrass family; also one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, though because of that, his parents were already aware of her acceptance to Hogwarts with him this year. 

Pansy Parkinson was another girl in his year that his parents were familiar with; the Parkinsons being another pureblooded family within the Sacred Twenty-Eight. She was a bit puggish-looking, but not unbearable. Though her ability to talk one’s head off about nonsense was quite undesirable. 

“Well, you know of Daphne Greengrass, and Pansy Parkinson I’m sure, mother.” Draco began, “They spend a lot of time around Blaise and Goyle, and therefore me, as well.”

“They sound lovely,” Narcissa affirmed. “In fact, I have invited both their families to attend tonight’s gala, so you may see them in passing. I suggest you get to know them better, and I’m sure your father would advise the same.”

Though he knew it was his responsibility as the heir, the thought of entertaining one, if not both, of his classmates was particularly harrowing. It was a thought he tried to hide away in the wake of tonight’s events. Biting back his discomfort, Draco willed himself to see the reason. 

Forge strong connections. Represent the reputable Malfoy name. Secure the future responsibilities. Step into the role of the confident and respectable heir . Draco nodded. 

“Of course, mother.”

xXx

The gala was in full swing by the time Draco came down from his rooms to make his appearance. He was dressed in a stark, black suit and trousers, with a matching expensive cloak donned across his shoulders, offset by his platinum locks slicked back into place.

The first half of his evening was spent prioritizing introductions to his father’s acquaintances at the Ministry; firm handshakes and unwavering attention as they droned on about pleasantries and politics; some asked him about school, some asked him of his plans after. Draco was thoroughly bored by the end of it all, and he was only thankful when his mother interrupted them upon the Greengrasses arrival, suggesting he show Daphne around some of the estate. 

Daphne was a pretty girl, he couldn’t deny that. She was dressed in a silver gown with her dark, pin straight hair cascading down her back. She was quiet, which Draco did not expect, given her known friendship to Pansy, who was likely to be in attendance soon. 

He showed her around the rose garden, ignoring the stiff feeling that clung to him as he attempted to keep up their small talk. She spoke about school, and of her family, recounting summers spent in Paris (which Draco was all too familiar with, since her mother and his took many regular, indulgent shopping trips to the city).

“Do you suppose we should head back to the party?” Daphne asked after a long pause, “I know you probably want to be rid of me. I’m not a fool, Draco. I appreciate the tour, but I know you’re just doing what you’ve been told to.”

“It’s that obvious?” Draco asked, feeling a bit relieved that she didn’t seem upset by the truth. Daphne smiled, shaking her head. 

“Not really,” she replied with a sly smirk, “You’ve been a wonderful gentleman and host. The grounds are well-kept, and your mother’s rose garden is beautiful. It is a lovely estate and your family is grand, but I don’t think we’ll make a habit of this arrangement, truthfully. Pansy is my best friend, and she talks about you a lot, you know. It feels like I am overstepping in a way, when I'm just fulfilling my parents' request, as well.”

Draco raised a brow, and Daphne laughed at his silent inquisition. Fair enough.

“Friends, Malfoy?” She asked, holding a hand out. He supposed it couldn’t hurt remaining friends; his mother would be pleased that the connection was forged one way or another, and befriending Daphne could certainly boost both their standings. Draco nodded, grasping her hand in a firm shake. 

“Friends, Greengrass.”

They walked back to the drawing room in comfortable companionship; Draco found that conversation was much easier now that they both had come to a mutual understanding with each other. Daphne was rather exceptional at Charms it turned out, and so Draco made a mental note to formally introduce her to Theo when they returned to school. Despite having little to no interest in the sport, she was knowledgeable in Quidditch verbiage and vowed to join him and his friends for the next match, with Pansy in tow to keep Draco's parents at bay. 

"I believe Pansy is here somewhere," Daphne said upon their return, glancing around the drawing room for a glimpse of her. Draco suppressed the small sense of dread that arose at the thought of entertaining yet another potential suitor before the night was over. Daphne was absentmindedly talking about her friend in her search, adding, "I think I saw her mother talking to yours not even a moment ago, so she must be around. I'll find her."

Draco released her with a cordial kiss to the back of her hand, thanking her for allowing him to escort her around, and he turned to see his parents eyeing the interaction with avid interest as Daphne headed off. He swallowed back the feeling of unease, knowing there would be many questions following the evening. It wasn't long before Daphne returned with Pansy at her side, giving Draco a knowing look as he introduced her friend, "Malfoy, this is Pansy. I think she would love a tour of the rose gardens."

Draco bit back a rueful smile; she was simply having fun at his expense. 

"Hello, Draco." Pansy said sweetly.

"Hello, Pansy. It's a pleasure to meet you. I'd be happy to show you them if you'll come with me," Draco replied, extending his arm for her. Without an ounce of hesitation, Pansy draped her fingers over the sleeve of his cloak and Draco led the way.

He noted that Pansy had a similar build to Daphne, only a few inches shorter, and her dark hair was shoulder length in comparison. She wore a silk green dress that touched the floor, with a thick, black fur cloak that draped off her shoulders and rested at her elbows. Daphne gave her friend a dazzling smile and stepped back to give them space, disappearing into the throng of attendees as Draco escorted them out, once again heading for the gardens. 

He was grateful for the warming charm his mother placed over the greenhouses; he could still see the thick blanket of snow covering the grounds outside, and after tonight he vowed to steer clear of the gardens for the remainder of his time at home.

Pansy was not shy to talk about herself, as Daphne had forewarned. Though she talked about almost anything, Draco was grateful he did not have to participate much. She asked questions and he replied where he felt obligated, but for the most part he found it easy to just listen and observe. He found it a bit tedious to keep up with Pansy's ever-changing range on topics, most of which consisted of shopping, the hierarchy of various girls in Slytherin House that she was befriending (or attempting to befriend), complaining about her studies and assignments upon their return from the holidays, and how oppressive the school uniforms were.

Draco eventually tuned her out when they returned to the drawing room after some time, however, Pansy did not leave his side in the similar fashion of Daphne's departure. It took Draco seeking the aid of Daphne to collect her friend and distract her so that he could 'chat with his father' (alternatively, to have a moment's peace). He effectively avoided his parents' extensive questions, promising to tell them all about the evening's events over breakfast the next morning.

The gala lasted well into the early morning, and by the time Draco returned to his rooms he was exhausted. He knew his responsibilities would require a stronger social stamina one day, but he was relieved that was years away. 

However, the mere thought of recounting the course of the entire evening to his parents in a few short hours left him feeling indisposed. He got ready for bed without delay. Slipping under the covers, Draco closed his eyes and willed sleep to take him quickly. 

-x-

Christmas morning arrived quietly. 

Draco opened his eyes slowly, adjusting to the bright light filtering in through his windows as he sat up. Stretching the sleep from his bones, he pulled himself up and out of bed to dress for breakfast. He surmised that his parents were already in their usual seats, with his father at the head of the table and his mother sitting at the other end directly across from him. His mother was likely already on her second cup of tea, while his father had barely touched his to peruse the Daily Prophet. He momentarily thought of Granger, and how she expressed a similar image of her parents on Christmas morning - he shook the thought from his mind. He couldn't think of her now, knowing that his parents would be asking about Daphne and Pansy, and the previous night's excursions. 

Draco let out a yawn as he descended the stairs to the first-floor breakfast room. He passed a few house elves on his way, still cleaning up and mopping the floors of the Manor after the gala. They greeted him and informed him that the Lord and Lady were already seated. Draco nodded, rolling his eyes at his own deduction when they were out of sight; as I knew they would be. 

He entered the veranda, drawing their attention upon his arrival. 

"Happy Christmas, my dragon," Narcissa greeted warmly, setting her cup down. "We were beginning to wonder when you would rise."

"Happy Christmas, mother," Draco replied, taking his seat in the center of the long table. He turned to his father, "Happy Christmas, father."

"I must say the events of last night looked promising, Draco," Lucius replied, closing the Daily Prophet. A nearby elf removed the paper, and their breakfast appeared on the plates, fresh and warm. Draco felt less hungry at the mention of the previous night so suddenly, but he nodded in acknowledgement.

"What are your thoughts on Miss Greengrass, Draco?" His mother asked curiously, looking up from her plate to study his expression. Draco met her eyes with a calm expression; he felt relieved to start with Daphne at least. 

"Well, Daphne was lovely," he replied easily. "But we felt it best to be friends."

"Friends." Narcissa said coolly, pursing her lips slightly. I said something wrong. "You both decided that?"

"It was actually Daphne that suggested it," he said carefully. She shot a look across the table to his father, an unspoken conversation between them while Draco waited to hear their rebuttal. He was familiar with the glances his parents often shared; it was one of the reasons they so powerful together. His parents never made a move without being on the same page, it was something he admired about their relationship - even when they tended to use it against him. 

"Did she?" Lucius spoke up then, "Did something transpire that upset her?"

Draco shook his head, thinking back to their conversation. "Not that I can recall, father. She spoke mostly of Paris, and shopping," Lucius sent a knowing look back to her, and they seemed to be laughing about the infamous trips to Paris. Draco felt less anxious, recognizing the humor on their faces. He continued, "and she mentioned that Pansy Parkinson speaks of me often. She's a very loyal friend to Pansy, so she introduced us."

Lucius nodded, pleased by this response, and Draco peered a glance to his mother, who was wearing a similar expression. He breathed an inaudible sigh.

"So, what did you think of Miss Parkinson, then?" Narcissa queried curiously, watching him over the rim of her teacup once more. 

"Pansy is sociable," Draco answered, "I learned more about her than Daphne. Pansy can talk just about anything; it was a little exhaustive." 

His mother laughed and his father smirked appreciatively, and Lucius added, "Then I think it would be beneficial for you to get to know Miss Parkinson a little more, Draco. Seeing as you've already befriended Miss Greengrass with ease, and with her help it should be no trouble getting more acquainted with Miss Parkinson. Perhaps we should invite them over for a couple of dinners this summer when you both are home to solidify this relationship. The Greengrasses, too."

His mother gave an affirming nod and Draco ignored the feeling of his stomach plummeting at the thought. He didn't dislike Pansy, but he certainly didn't want to move things along that quickly either. He was barely a boy of twelve, and while most pureblooded marriages were contracted at seventeen or eighteen, Draco couldn't currently picture promising himself to Pansy for the next six or seven years.

While he knew this idea of him and Pansy wasn't yet set in stone, it certainly felt close to it. Draco bit back his protest, suppressing the dread that was rising once again. 

"Of course, father."