Dragged Out Of The Dark
“I think you’re handling this well, all things considered.” Blaise drawled, a wide smirk on his face. Theo snorted as the two of them continued to watch their blonde friend levitate the plates from his kitchen into the air and then shoot them down with a variety of spells from his wand, akin to muggle clay pigeon shooting.
“It’s a Skeeter article, mate. You know she makes everything up.” Theo called, trying to placate Draco slightly.
Draco whirled on him, crunching over the smashed plates on the ground, and pointed an aggressive finger at the photo accompanying the article that had made the front page of the Prophet that morning.
“You cannot fake a photo like that. The way she’s looking at him.” He hissed, barely glancing at the photo that had ruined his day. His month. His entire life.
“It might not be what it looks like. You should at least let them explain before you destroy any more china.” Blaise said. “But if it is what it looks like, then you’re going to have to try and be happy for them, mate.” He added, smiling sadly.
Draco sighed heavily, nodding. He did know that. That was what hurt the most. It wasn’t his stupid, unrequited crush that was the source of his pain. It was that he knew he didn’t want to lose either of his friends, and so he was going to have to work out a way to be pleased for the two of them. Even if he wanted to punch Greg in his fat, ridiculous face.
“It’s just…a shock.” He said, running a hand through his hair before vanishing the mess he’d made with a grimace. “I didn’t know they even knew each other that well.”
“How on earth would our friend Granger meet our other friend Goyle? I simply cannot fathom how that could have happened.” Theo replied sarcastically, and Draco flipped him off before slumping into an armchair. Burying his face in his hands, he groaned. It was only Theo and Blaise that knew of his feelings for Granger, and he wondered for a moment if he should have told Goyle. Hell, if he’d told Granger herself sooner he wouldn’t have had to watch her waltz off into the sunset with one of his oldest friends. The photo in the Prophet of her beaming up at him as they left the restaurant made him feel something ugly. Jealousy, longing, rage, any of the above. All of the above.
“Do you think Potter knows?” Blaise asked Theo, who shrugged.
“If she’s told anyone, then it would have been Harry, but the man is very serious about keeping secrets. He hasn’t said a word to me if he does know.”
“We’re training tomorrow.” Draco said darkly, and Theo shot him a warning glance.
“I want his face to remain in perfect condition. You can’t break his nose just because he didn’t tell you about Granger and Greg. He might not even know.” He said, and Draco hummed thoughtfully. “If I get either of you bleeding in my department tomorrow, I’ll never forgive you.” He threatened, even as both of them knew he didn’t really mean it.
It was at that moment that his owl, Aquila, dropped a letter in his lap. The familiar deep blue wax seal told him who it was from, and he opened his mother’s letter quickly, scanning the contents. He sighed.
“What is it?” Blaise asked, glancing between the letter and Draco’s face.
“Mother’s invited a load of pureblood families to the ball. Apparently, I’ve got to dance with their daughters.” He replied, sneering slightly. “She’s relentless in her search for a mother for Scorp.”
“It doesn’t feel like Stori’s been gone that long.” Theo said, and they were quiet for a moment. Her blood curse had come as a surprise to everyone, and it had taken her quickly. Their relationship might not have been a usual one, as they were friends rather than lovers, but he had loved her anyway and her death had shaken him to his core. His greatest fear was letting his son down, and without Astoria, he’d been lost for a long time. Blaise had then started working at Granger’s apothecary in Diagon Alley, and shortly after that, Theo had begun dating the Chosen One, and so Draco had been dragged out of the dark by two gryffindors. Objectively, the two people that should have been the last to want to help him, after everything he’d done, but working with Potter and spending time with Granger fixed him. Both of them were excellent with his son, and his life had been ticking along nicely until Goyle had stolen his witch out from under him.
“You’re going to say no, right? You don’t have to dance with a single one of them if you don’t want to.” Blaise pointed out, but Draco shrugged.
“Why shouldn’t I? I’ve got no other options.” He replied bitterly, standing up suddenly and striding towards his study, not before taking another glance at the Prophet lying on the coffee table. He’d been holding off because of Granger, but if she was in the midst of something with Greg, then there was no reason to refuse his mother any longer. He’d smile and politely dance with the vapid socialites at the Christmas ball, picking the least annoying one before the night was over. Maybe she’d be one of Granger’s bridesmaids one day. Her initials wouldn’t change when she became a Goyle, or perhaps she’d hyphenate. Granger-Goyle did have a certain ring to it, the alliteration giving it some charm. He slumped in his desk chair and composed a reply to his mother, ignoring the way his heart was telling him that this was a very bad idea.