The Malfoy Yule Gala
Chapter 9: The Malfoy Yule Gala
When Draco arrived home, he marveled at the grandeur his mother had put together. The Manor was always kept up with impeccable taste, but Narcissa had truly outdone herself this season.
White and silver glistening baubles hung from a large flocked Christmas tree, towering over the rest of the furniture and decor. Snowflakes and real icicles under stasis charms dripped from every edge like crystals. Strands of real diamonds and pearls draped across branches and weaved through garlands wrapped around the bannister and hung above the mantle.
She had even re-created the same atmospheric charms Hogwarts uses to make it snow slowly and softly from the ceiling.
It was truly magnificent, and Draco was in awe of his mother’s Charm work again. The only time she allowed herself to show off a bit was at the winter holidays, if only for the annual Malfoy Yule Gala.
The Malfoys hosted the gala every year at their home. The House Elves would be cooking and cleaning nonstop from now until the party. His mother and father would be in a strange, but endearing state of bliss until New Years, when Lucius would inevitably leave on a business trip.
The gala was the event of the season, hosted at Malfoy Manor annually on December 28th—Lucius and Narcissa’s anniversary. It served as the socialite Christmas and New Years celebration of the year—everyone who was anyone would be there. This year the list included not only close family and friends, but all of the high class families from across Europe. Invitations were also extended to the Minister for Magic and many higher-ups from the Ministry, politicians, fashion designers, famed authors, and a musical favorite, Celestina Warbeck.
After unpacking his things in his room, Draco descended the large, white marble staircase and strode into the dining room for dinner. He was nearly seventeen minutes early, but Lucius and Narcissa were both seated at the long table, waiting for him.
As he approached his seat, Lucius beamed up at him. It was unnerving to say the least. Narcissa smiled softly at her son and he took that as his cue to sit. Mippy announced that they would be having Boeuf Bourguignon for the main course and it would be ready soon. Draco noted she looked rather pleased with her choice of dish for the evening and he was excited to taste it.
“Draco, my boy, how have your studies been?”
Draco stared in shock at his father’s cheeriness, but played along, hoping it would last.
“It seems I am second in ranking for most classes, first in Potions, of course.” He eyed his father warily, but the older man’s face betrayed nothing aside from a cocked eyebrow.
“And is it Miss Granger who is the top of your class then, dear?” Narcissa sipped her wine with a playful smile and a knowing twinkle in her eye.
“Yes, mother,” Draco strained. Granger. He had hoped his hols would be void of her to clear his thoughts, but his mother seems to have other ideas.
“Ah, and who is this Granger girl?” His father waggled his eyebrows at him.
“Just some Gryffindor know-it-all.” Draco rolled his eyes with a huff.
Lucius’s eyes tightened around the edges but a smile still lingered on his face. Narcissa reached under the table, patting her husband’s hand.
Draco could tell they had clearly discussed this. His mother had insisted his growing obsession over Granger was infatuation. He, on the other hand, had told her in nearly every letter it was simply a classroom rivalry, and he would no doubt best her next term. Both his parents were clearly aware of her blood status considering they were well acquainted with all of pureblood society, and he was very surprised by his mother’s insistence and his father’s seeming indifference.
“Well, son, allies come often in unexpected packages,” Lucius stated with finality in his tone. He would discuss her no more, and Draco was beyond grateful. He’d never stand a chance at being friends with her after all he’d said and done to Potter and Weasley.
“So, darling, who did you invite to the gala?” Narcissa questioned, brightening the mood a bit.
“Well, Greg, Vince, and Pansy were already invited, but I offered for Theo, Blaise, Daphne, and Tracey to come.”
“Wonderful!” His mother clapped her hands together in excitement and Lucius nodded in approval at his son. Their dinner plates then floated in and delicately landed in front of each of them.
Without another word, the Malfoys tucked in. Dinner was exquisite and Draco savored every bite of Mippy’s cooking. While he loved the food at Hogwarts, it just wasn’t the same.
As their meal was coming to an end, the young Malfoy knew this would be one of only a few chances he would get while home on holiday to ask his parents for the information Snape was looking for. He chanced a quick glance at Lucius who was sipping from his glass of red Bordeaux.
“Father, I was hoping I could speak to you about something,” Draco began.
Lucius’s interest peaked and he set down his glass, turning his full attention to his son. “Go on.”
“Theo, Blaise, and I came across something of interest while at school this term,” he began starting to lose his muster but tried to choose his words carefully, “Professor Snape is helping us with it and I know you have had business with him, and—“
“Business?” Lucius startled. “I haven’t seen that man in ages, Draco. What exactly is it that you’ve found?” Lucius’s temper and intrigue were melding together and Draco was even more nervous to continue—unsure of how his father would react, but it was too late to backtrack now.
“There’s-a-three-headed-dog-in-the-castle-that’s-guarding-a-trap-door-and-Professor-Snape-thinks-Professor-Quirrell-is-trying-to-steal-something-from-it-and-Potter-knows-about-it-too-and-are-you-working-with-Theo’s-dad-to-steal-the-Philosopher’s-Stone?!” Draco blurted out so quickly it was barely a sentence. Narcissa gave him a stern look from across the table reminding him to mind his manners.
Draco’s eyes dropped to his hands in his lap in a silent apology. Lucius drummed his fingers on the table for a few tension-laden moments.
“Draco, I think it’s time you learn some of the family businesses.”
Draco’s head shot up and his silver eyes met a hard, dark gray. He searched them for a moment, but found no hint of malice or deceit. Draco stiffly nodded in response and Narcissa politely excused herself from the table.
His father had explained to him, after his mother left the dining room, that many of the pureblood families had been devoted to Voldemort by their parents before any of their children were born. Most of the heirs complied and were grateful to do so. As a younger man, Lucius too had been somewhat eager to impress the Dark Lord.
However, it was Draco’s mother who kept him from getting in too deep. She had seen what all the blood purity fanaticism had done to her own family—her sister being hunted by her own parents. She was also a naturally skilled Legilimens and had seen the Dark Lord’s intentions. She had taken her husband aside and begged him to break ranks—to run away and restart their life together somewhere new.
Lucius admitted to his son, in that moment, that he had been a coward. He couldn’t just leave. While he did not do the killing, he didn’t stop it either. Finally, his wife had had enough. She had seen the latest plan hatch in the Dark Lord’ mind—to kill an infant—and her heart broke.
When Voldemort left for Godric’s Hollow that night, his mother cast a silvery swan to find her cousin and warn him but she was too late. After that night, both of Draco’s parents had vowed to never allow Voldemort to return. Lucius turned to Dumbledore and gave as much information over as possible, and it was decided that in exchange for the information he provided, the Malfoys would stay out of Azkaban and retain their status, but they would have to keep up pretenses in case Voldemort would ever return.
“But he can’t return, he’s dead right?” Draco had interrupted quietly.
Lucius stared at his son for a long moment, then fixed his gaze down on his hands, “Unfortunately, son, no. There are many ways the Dark Lord can return, and if there is something strange going on inside of Hogwarts, we need to be very cautious in how we approach this. I must maintain my rank as the Dark Lord’s right hand man, and you must follow in my footsteps.”
Draco froze. He had never considered what part he would have to play in all this, he was only eleven after all. “What do I have to do?”
“Play along. For now, you will be my eyes and ears in the school—be the pureblood heir you are. I don’t know anything about this Professor Quirrell of yours, but I have a guess as to what lies under that trap door…”
Draco nodded solemnly, “The Philosopher’s Stone.”
…
Later that evening, Draco found himself laying on top of his bed staring at the ceiling. His brain was whirring at top speed trying to process what he had learned. He felt as though he had nearly all the puzzle pieces, but the ones that were missing were the keys to linking it all together. If only he could pick her brain. She was brilliant, though he hated to admit it. If anyone could put the puzzle together, it was her.
In a moment of inspiration, Draco leapt out of bed excitedly. If he couldn’t outright ask Granger, then I’ll have to give her the pieces I already have for her to figure it out herself. Grabbing Alchemy: Ancient Art and Science, he called for Mippy.
“Master has called for Mippy?” The small elf squeaked.
“Mippy, please bring me some wrapping paper and a red ribbon.”
“Master is sure he is wanting red?”
Draco rolled his eyes, “Yes, Mippy, red ribbon.”
The elf squealed in excitement, “Oh Mistress was right, she is always being right!”
With a devilish grin, she disappeared with a soft pop, and moments later reappeared just the same.
She left the wrapping supplies on the nightstand and left with a tinkling giggle.
Mother and that damn elf are so meddlesome.
…
Draco dutifully stood at the entrance to the Manor, looking rather dashing—smooth, custom tailored, black dress robes paired with a shiny pair of black Oxfords. He wore a crisp, white button down shirt underneath, paired with a satin, emerald green bow tie wrapped smartly around his neck. His platinum blonde hair was slicked back flawlessly in what had become his signature look.
Narcissa had placed a warming charm along the walkway from the gates to the front doors, and as they entered, Draco was to welcome each guest and send them to receive refreshments. It was a rather boring job, to be honest, but he waited patiently for his friends to begin arriving.
Finally, as if he could hear Draco’s thoughts, Theo and his father, Nott Sr. appeared at the gates with a CRACK! of Apparition. Once they reached the doors, Nott Sr. left to mingle with the politicians leaving Theo to fend for himself.
Once his father’s back was turned, Theo tossed a casual arm over Draco’s shoulders and gave him a lopsided grin. The blonde couldn’t help but smile back, but quickly they were interrupted by a scowling Pansy Parkinson.
“What ever could it be now that’s put you in such a sour mood, Pansy?” Theo playfully jibbed.
“Daphne’s family is letting Tracey stay with them for the holidays while her parents are off visiting her older brother in Cairo,” she snapped as if it explained her foul mood.
Draco and Theo just shrugged and exchanged confused looks.
“Well obviously, that means that Tracey like Daphne better than me! I offered for her to come stay at our house, too!”
“Uh oh, girl drama in paradise?” Theo teased, earning a snort from Draco.
“No!” Pansy shrieked back, “They don’t even have a clue that I’m upset about it…” she slumped down on the top step to the Manor’s entrance.
Draco knew what would come next—inconsolable sobbing. Why do girls cry so much? He grabbed at Theo’s elbow and towed him inside to escape the onslaught of tears sure to arrive any minute.
“That was a close one,” Theo mimed wiping his brow exaggeratedly. He then looked around, checking they wouldn’t be overheard. “Have you found anything out yet? Like Snape asked?”
Draco threw a hand over Theo’s mouth and gave him a warning look—this was not the place to discuss that.
He dragged the tall, shaggy brunette up the marble staircase towards his room. Once inside, Draco sent a locking spell toward the door—colloportus.
The two boys fell into a pair of large green plush reading chairs and spoke in hushed tones.
“My dad was a Death Eater!” Theo whisper-yelled. “I was always afraid to be alone with him before, but now—well now it’s a matter of life and death isn’t it?”
“Theo, calm down. Your dad’s not just going to up and murder his only son. Why exactly would he be trying to kill you anyway?” Draco attempted to rationalize.
“Fine. What did you find out?” Theo clearly wasn’t convinced, but he would drop it for now.
“I think my father was a Death Eater too, but sort of like a double agent. He said it’s possible for Voldemort to come back and that he thinks something is definitely going on at Hogwarts. I’m supposed to relay any information we come up with back to him.” Draco looked at his friend expectantly.
“So both our dads are murderers and we’re just supposed to—to what? Sit here and give them a heads up on what we find out?!” Theo started to raise his voice in indignation.
“No—no, Theo. My father never killed anyone. He didn’t stop them from killing anyone, but he’s not a murderer. And he’s going to help us with whatever is under that trap door,”
Theo’s face fell. “So just my dad then, an admitted murderer.” He hugged his arms around himself, “He wants me to join them when I’m of age—the Death Eaters. He says the Dark Lord will rise again…that there’s been whispers of it from his old contacts. Whispers that they can feel something big is coming.” Theo shivered involuntarily and pushed himself tighter into his oversized chair.
Draco didn’t know how to console his friend. If his dad was truly a murderer, and Theo was helping him to stop Voldemort from coming back, was he really safe going back home?
Knock, knock, knock
Both Theo and Draco nearly jumped out of their skins at the sound. Draco had leapt to his feet, wand aimed at the door, while Theo on the other hand had clumsily fallen out of his chair, landing on the floor haphazardly.
“It’s me,” a familiar voice came through the door.
Draco quickly unlocked the door and let Blaise into the room. The boys took no time filling him in on their recent discoveries. And to their surprise, he didn’t look the least bit shocked.
“My mother has decided to stay abroad—indefinitely. She’s been hearing things as well, and this time she doesn’t want to get caught up in the mess. The Zabini family has never taken sides from what I understand. While that was a good thing during the War, if Voldemort does return, he won’t look too kindly on those who didn’t stand with him.”
The trio sat quietly for a few more moments before deciding it was time to rejoin the party and make their rounds. They also agreed to keep their eyes and ears open for any new secrets to be shared.
…
Draco spent the evening trying to avoid not only a clingy and upset Pansy, but a distraught Daphne and Tracey as well. From what he could gather, the latter two of the girls had shown up shortly after he and Theo had disappeared. They had seen Pansy crying and asked what was wrong. In typical Pansy fashion, she lashed out at her two friends—leaving all three of the girls in a terrible mood—leaving the rest of their friends to try and figure out what was going on.
The young Malfoy wanted nothing to do with the girl drama surrounding him, so he chose instead to fulfill his duty as host and mingle with his parents’ friends as best he could. It was also the only way he would get any new information.
So far, Draco had managed to lobby for lowering the age for Quidditch players at Hogwarts to a few of the board members to no avail (something about safety and parents being concerned), shaken hands with the Minister briefly, and charmed Celestina into devoting a song to his mother later in the evening. However, he had not heard any more rumblings of secretive kind.
Occasionally making eye contact with Theo and Blaise from around the ballroom, Draco continued his venture. After another hour or so, his father called him to the front of the room, along with his mother, for a toast.
“Welcome, everyone! What an honor it is to have all those dear to us in one place, at a most magical time of the year! We thank each and every one of you for attending tonight.
So let’s raise a toast to a new year full of new beginnings, new partnerships, and new conquests, while savoring our traditions, our families, and our purity.” Lucius raised his own champagne flute high into the air and the rest of the party did so as well.
Draco looked out at the crowd of prominent figures before him, watching as nearly all of them sipped from their glasses then resumed the party in full swing. What he thought odd, though, was a smattering of faces that ignored the party striking up around them as they stared solemnly at the Malfoys.
A shiver ran up his spine and tiny hairs prickled on the nape of his neck. He looked to his father for clarity, but found Lucius had already left his post. Draco scanned the room for a familiar head of white-blonde hair but found none aside from his mother next to him.
Turning back toward the room, the faces that had stood out to him were now gone as well. Bile rose in the back of his throat. Draco wasn’t sure what was going on, but he knew it wasn’t going to be good.