Chapter 1
Blaise and Draco had been engaged since they could speak. It was a fact of their lives, that they would marry each other, and one of the few they could take comfort in.
When the Dark Lord returned, Draco almost feared Dymphna would call it off, thankfully however, the political climate of wizarding Britain had little effect on the international reputation of the Malfoy family. At the end of 5th year, when Draco had done little else but walk, study, and write, he saw Ms. Zabini at the train station.
The old families were usually the first on the train and the last off. It was indecorous to rush anywhere, and undignified to been seen giving sentimental words in public, so they always waited for the rush of excited first years and other assorted riffraff to leave, while those that remained, (mostly the purebloods) collected their things and left in peace, without jostling. Draco had spent most of the ride buried in a book about advanced warding techniques he had gotten from the forbidden section, and ignoring Pansy's increasingly desperate attempts at conversation. Eventually Blaise distracted her, and they had one of their special 'Let Draco be strange in peace' eye conversations. Honestly, if he wasn't one of the best legilimens in their generation, he would assume they were actually having a mental conversation. The train jerked to a stop, and they let everyone else trickle out before collecting their things and making thier leave.
Draco remembers hesitating, caught in some thought or another, just standing in the middle of the train car, before Pansy noticed and bodily dragged him to the exit. He had followed in a haze, making his way off the steps when he saw her. Ms. Zabini was beautiful, as always, and looked much younger than her age, even for a witch. It wasn't her looks that struck him through the heart however, but the look in her eyes.
Dymphna Zabini's opinion mattered to him almost as much as his own parents did, and he suddenly couldn't bear knowing if she was disappointed in him. The Zabini's stayed out of Wars, they were simply too old and too rich to care, but Draco didn't have that luxury. The Zabini's weren't liberals, or even very progressive at all by wizarding standards, but they did not believe in blood purity. Not like the Malfoy's did. If Dymphna wanted to distance herself and her family, or worse, sever ties completely, Draco wouldn't stop her. It was her duty to protect her family. Draco himself would open his veins and bleed himself dry if his family needed it, if they simply asked.
He walked mechanically to his mothers side, giving her a polite kiss on the cheek, and offering her his arm. He was making polite, if distracted, small talk when he felt the presence behind him.
The Zabini family magic had a very specific feel, like orange zest and ice, that Draco could recognize from literal miles away, let alone standing right behind him. Draco turned, smile already fixed, more wooden than his mother probably would have liked, and bent to kiss Ms. Zabini's hand.
"Dymphna, you look even lovelier than when I last saw you, wine wishes it would age so well." Ms. Zabini looked distinctly amused, as she had every time he greeted her, but Draco could see the steel behind her eyes. She was a tall woman, almost the same height as he was, with long black locs pulled into a complicated updo. She wore simple, but very expensive robes, probably enough to buy King's Cross several times over, which only highlighted her stunning figure.
"Narcissa, Draco. You just keep growing, maybe one day you'll finally be tall enough for your words to mean something." His smile grew a small bit less strained, her rebuff washing over him like a tidal wave.
"I've just come to see if Draco would like to come visit this summer, we're staying at the villa in Italy, and I know how he loves it."
Draco and his mother stiffened at the same moment, and his mother made some reply. He couldn't, they all knew that. Not right now, possibly not ever again, depending on whether or not he survived the next few years. Draco couldn't hear his mother's reply over the sudden ringing in his ears. He looked up from the distant spot he was staring at, accidentally meeting Blasie's eyes, and he nearly collapsed under their weight.
Blaise was sad, his face pleading with him to take the offer. But worse than that, there was understanding. Blaise knew what Draco had to do, what his family needed from him. He tried smiling, tried to reassure Blaise that it would be fine, they would all live to see the wedding, and Pansy would be his witch of honor, and Blaise would have Theo as his best wizard. That Mr. Robberts would officiate, just like he had for Draco's parents. That they would honeymoon in France, exploring the catacombs like they had as children and eating pastry for every meal of the day.
But he couldn't. Instead he felt his mother pull his arm gently, and let himself be turned away. He turned his head over his shoulder, trying for the cocky arrogance he usually oozed so effortlessly, "Have a grand time in Italy, don't miss me too much." Blaise lifted his arm in a wave, but him and his mother both could have been carved of stone in that moment, and it wouldn't have made a single difference.