Chapter 57
Eventually, the kids were carted off for supper, bathtime and bed. Even Bill and Fleur’s eldest, Victoire, as well as Molly and Lucy were sent off to do whatever proper young ladies do when not allowed to join the adults for dinner.
The adults were led off to yet another room. The unfortunate yellow one Draco was not partial to. The wallpaper featured a repeat pattern of sunflowers, the shade somehow too bright and off putting. The furniture strived for classic elegance but always reminded Draco of an overripe banana.
It did have a key redeeming feature: the mustard painted table was holding quite an array of beverages. Draco beelined for it. One other person had the same idea.
“Hand me that one, would you?” Charlie Weasley asked. Draco glanced over and got caught looking at Charlie’s freckles. Without a mask they were even more stark. Dark red dots making Charlie look younger than he was. “C’mon, the one right there,” Charlie interrupted Draco’s staring.
“Right,” Draco said, grabbing the wine bottle in question. He paused to glance at the label. Charlie had a very good eye. “This is… very good.” He looked around the room, but there were no servants. “Shouldn’t someone, I don’t know, decant it?”
With a smirk, Charlie took the bottle from Draco’s hand. He picked up the corkscrew on the table and opened the bottle himself. He didn’t so much as hesitate before pouring himself a glass.
Draco couldn’t help making a small noise of protest. “That’s a rare vintage. My father-" Draco halted abruptly. He couldn't remember the last time he’d acknowledged his father.
Charlie smirked at Draco before tossing back the glass and gulping his wine. He carelessly rubbed a sleeve over his mouth after and smacked his lips, before following the action with a too-smug, “What about your father?”
That broke Draco out of his stupor. He snapped out, “It’s practically a crime that you aren’t bothering to appreciate it.”
The older man settled his hip against the table before taking a relaxed sip this time. “Is that what your father would say?” Charlie asked.
Maybe it was the amused smile Charlie sported, or how he genuinely seemed curious on the matter, but Draco chose to give up his defensiveness. Still, he huffed a little so Charlie wouldn’t think he approved of the question. “No,” Draco said resolutely. Then, almost off hand, “He’d say something intelligent about tannins and mouthfeel, followed up with a lecture on why he selected the specific vineyard for the wine, before comparing this year to at least three others.”
A deep chuckle rolled out from Charlie. “You’re telling me this is Lucius's wine?”
“Obviously,” said Draco, since it would be obvious to anyone who’d been around during King Voldermort’s reign. The King had relied on Lucius’ exceptional taste… well, exceptional taste in things, not people.
Charlie was smiling as he shook his head. He put his glass on the table so he could pick up and fill a second one, speaking as he did so. “I’m going to appreciate it when Harry’s late ass shows up and finds the bottle empty.” The glass was far too full before Charlie stopped pouring. Still, he pushed it forward into Draco’s empty hand. Draco took it before the wine could spill. Charlie picked up his own glass, and with a mischievous grin to rival George, he tapped his glass against Draco’s. “Cheers.”
Not knowing what to do, Draco drank. It was exceptional. Draco’s father had died before Lucius had the chance to teach Draco what he’d meant when he talked about tannins. Draco savored it anyway, thinking of the unsophisticated way he might describe the pleasure of drinking this particular wine to his father. Only, Charlie was gulping again. “I can’t believe I’m finally tasting the castle’s private reserves and you’re treating it like it’s from the bargain barrel.”
There was that chuckle again. “It’s Harry’s favorite,” Charlie admitted. He stared at his glass for a long moment. “Serves Harry right for getting mum to invite me to his bloody engagement party.” His words were only a little bitter.
Draco’s own lips tilted into a frown. Honestly, Draco hardly knew anything about the king and Charlie’s past relationship. Even if the king was right, and the two had never truly been a pair, Draco could still imagine the discomfort of watching someone you’d hoped to have a future with start a future with someone else. You know, hypothetically. Draco cleared his throat and said what he hoped was a comforting thought. “I don’t think his majesty planned to engage himself to anyone when the weekend was arranged. Likely, your mother was inviting you because she wanted time with her entire family.”
“You know Harry well, then?” was Charlie’s takeaway from Draco’s comments. He jumped on Draco’s implied proximity to the king just as quickly now as he had at the ball. The older man tried to look uncaring, but his shoulders were tense. Draco tried not to look awkward as he shrugged. Charlie sighed. “Lord knows why I’m even here.”
Draco shrugged again before dryly suggesting, “You were coerced to attend?”
The offhand joke lingered between them. Charlie stilled, evening pausing his efforts to get wastefully drunk. He glanced at Draco again, actually looking at him from his well worn dress shoes to his self designed top, still mirroring Percy’s preferred style but with subtle changes to modernize it and add flair. Draco was a blend of hand me downs and couture. Like no one and nothing else. “Do I know you from somewhere?” Charlie asked.
Draco’s skin prickled. His first and second instinct was to lie. He was skilled in brushing over awkward moments. He could make light of any potential recollection. That is what he did. That’s how he stayed safe.
Well, that’s how he avoided the risk of rejection.
“Draco, darling, would you mind terribly stepping aside so I can take a look at the drink offerings?” Came the most unwelcome voice of Colton Slughorn.
Draco closed his eyes and heaved in a breath in order to otherwise hold his nerves. He managed the thinnest smile that could still be deemed polite before stepping aside. “Certainly,” was his crisp answer. Colton stepped between Draco and Charlie. Charlie didn’t bother to conceal his scornful glare.
“Ooh, what is this,” Colton murmured, reaching for the private reserve. Charlie nabbed the bottle first, pulling it out of reach. Colton’s eyes narrowed. His lips twitched down. “No need to be uncivil.”
“What, like kicking someone down a flight of stairs?” asked Charlie.
Colton’s frown was a full on scowl. “Bitterness is a foul trait. I’d think twice before blaming others for your own clumsiness.”
Charlie was having none of it. He nabbed an extra glass to go with what was left of the bottle of wine. He nodded farewell to Draco and left. Not once had he acknowledged Colton in the process.
“I say,” Colton said, softly, so only Draco could hear, “what a heathen.”
Draco’s skin prickled, but in a very different way than before. More like he wanted to crawl out of his skin. Draco licked his lips, unsure of how to respond. Truth, perhaps. “I quite admire his restraint.”
“Restraint?” said Colton, aghast. “Did you see him guzzling his wine?” Colton just then seemed to notice how full Draco’s glass of wine was. “Tell me you haven’t fallen as low as to quaff along with him.”
Draco stood under the weight of Colton’s judgment for a moment. It had the familiar old blood feel that Draco knew so well from his childhood. That well known demand to do everything precisely as it ought to be done. So different from the judgment he’d carried these last few years. Draco had weathered scorn for his family’s misdeeds, his own ignorance, the way he had thoughtlessly been cruel to others.
Draco smiled to think the Weasleys must have rubbed off on him at some point. He didn’t much care anymore whether Colton, or anyone else, thought he’d fallen low. Just so much as Draco could live with his choices. Which, right now, was choosing to tip back his glass and gulp down the rare wine his father had painstakingly chosen to prove his taste was the best in the kingdom and his opinion should always be sought after. Draco drank half the cup. Afterwards, he thoughtlessly rubbed his mouth with the back of his sleeve.
Colton had to pull himself out of shock. “Are you trying to make a fool of yourself?”
“You and I will just have to disagree on what makes one foolish,” replied Draco.
Colton puffed himself up to compensate for his frustration. “There’s no need to be combative, Draco. We were friends once, weren’t we?” Colton took half a step towards Draco. He spared a glance to the rest of the room to make sure no one had approached before saying in a low tone, “Neither of us expected to be beholden to King Harry Potter,” he said the king’s name as if it were a bad word, “but there’s no reason not to make the best of it. I will soon be in a position of authority. Somehow, you have earned the good will of these… people,” again, Colton had a skill for ensuring you understood his insults. “We could work together, you and I. Towards mutual success.”
Draco tried to remember Ron’s advice about learning to let his pride go. He focused on how Charlie chose to just walk away. It proved it was possible to hold one’s tongue. Draco could feel the most cutting response ready to blurt out of his mouth but to what end? This wasn’t real. It was a scheme that he had to trust would be fulfilled and then Colton would be out of his life for good. As long as Draco let it go, now.
He growled out a curt, “No thank you.”
Disgust actually rolled over Colton’s face. “You have a better plan?” he scoffed. Colton glanced across the room towards Charlie. “Are you seriously aiming for the cast off stable boy?” his astonishment could only be outdone by his ridicule.
Draco knew he should bite his tongue. There was no winning. Nothing to say. Only there was so much he was bursting to say. “It’s hard to know exactly what part of your snobbery is worse. Charlie is not a stable boy. He manages the stables and trains horses for the entire castle and royal guard. What he does for the castle is more important than anything you could ever manage. And there’s nothing wrong with honest work. I worked in the stables, when our house needed it. I’m not ashamed to have done it. I would be ashamed to hold have the judgment you manage for those you mistakenly think are beneath you.” He kept his voice down but his hissed words couldn’t help but draw attention.
Colton was, in comparison, the picture of civility. Even if the words no one could hear were far from it. “It’s for the best you’ve set your sights on the servants. It’ll be a suitable match. For you,” he sneered.
What rankled Draco was there was no way to correct Colton without Colton reading into it an insult against Charlie. Draco wanted to say how Charlie was a fine and honorable man, but Draco couldn’t see anything between the two of them working out. He reminded himself he didn’t need to justify himself. He didn’t need to explain. In fact, now would be the time to take the high road and walk away. Wouldn’t that preserve his pride better than an immature spat with a man who meant nothing to him? Well, nothing good, in any case.
Draco’s frustration and anger was splashed across his face and Colton revealed it. Worse, it was likely he understood the source of Draco’s frustration. He’d known Draco a long, long time, and could read too much on Draco’s face. Colton smiled cruelly, knowing it would make Draco seeth. “If you’re not interested in the stable boy…” Colton chuckled as if at a joke. “I’m worried, Draco, you might still think you have a chance with the king.”
Draco actually flinched at that one. “I’m not interested in the king,” he said too forcefully.
“Hmm,” an unconvinced Colton hummed. “It doesn’t matter, in any case. You may be pretty and clever, but what does that offer a king? I, on the other hand, have what his majesty needs. Something he needs badly enough that he’ll choose to be faithful to me.”
“Did you have to pay extra for the faithful part?” asked Draco, the high road abandoned.
Rage burned in Colton’s eyes. Fierce enough to make Draco’s accusation true. Colton was having to fight his own expression to keep it neutral for their audience. “I will bury you so low that there won’t be a noble in the kingdom who’d dare marry you. You’ll have to settle for the servants. Unless your nonsensical friendship with Percy,” the most derisive tone yet, “is another clever back up plan. I suppose his daughters will be so desperate in a decade or so, one of them would settle for you.”
Draco very nearly hit him. He would have, if Ron hadn’t shown up just then. Too late to hear Colton’s words, too early for Draco to make Colton pay for them. Spilled wine at their feet.
“I say, control yourself,” Colton’s voice carried quite fine when he wanted it to. Draco did look out of control, wrestling against Ron’s grasp on his arm. “It was just an offer to mend fences, but I can see you’re not amenable.” Colton lied so smoothly and it just made Draco look even more unhinged.
Draco stopped struggling. He breathed deep and tried to remember what he had meant to do. He looked to the room and saw all the people staring back. Judging. Disappointed. Worried. All three of those might just have been Hermione, who’s wide eyes tried to catch his without her body actually moving one bit. “Calm down,” her eyes begged. “Don’t give the scheme away.”
Draco couldn’t look at her. He turned to where he knew there’d be support. Only, Percy’s eyes were frantic. He kept glancing between Draco and Colton, uncertain of whether there was any role he could play to support his friend when there was a greater purpose at stake. Draco looked away before Percy could see too much on Draco’s face and be persuaded to make a bad decision.
Draco threw himself backwards, away from Colton and out of Ron’s restraint. Ron let him go, but hovered. God, he was a fool. All the times he hadn’t minded being an idiot were made shameful by this one time he should have known better.
Worst still, the king chose that moment to arrive. Just in time to witness Draco’s shame.