CHAPTER III
CHAPTER III
Draco opened his eyes once again to the ceiling of his bedroom, but it was dark instead of the white that burned at his eyes. It’s night now. He felt so numb, and so out of place.
Now what? He’s back in the past, now what?
What can he even do? Could he even do anything to change the future? What if he did everything he could, and it changed nothing? What if he changed something and things turn for the worse, he’d be useless and much more hopeless than he was last time—
He couldn’t think any further than that, he just had to observe everything in close lenses from now on. He can do that. He should do that—
A knock sounded at his door, he tensed for a second but relaxed slightly when he heard his mother’s soft voice come through.
“Draco, may I come in?” She asked.
“Yes, of course mother.” Draco replied, sitting up on his couch.
Narcissa came in as gently and as gracefully as Draco had always remembered. The effortless grace and elegance in her steps are something he greatly admired when he was alive…now as well, he supposed. She sat down beside him, holding his hands in hers.
“I don’t know what is happening to you right now, but I hope you’ll tell me.”
She looked at Draco with tender eyes, and at this moment, Draco hated everything. He hated how he felt so vulnerable, like he’s about to cry like a 3-year-old. He hated how he missed the loving looks he had when he was younger, before everything went to shit. And he absolutely hated how he and his family would have to go through everything again, just because the world decided to be cruel.
He looked down at their intertwined hands.
“But, I’m not here to talk about that.” She paused, looking down. “Happy birthday, my dear Draco.”
She took out a flat shaped box wrapped with expensive, deep green gift wrap. He looked at her for a moment, and down at the carefully wrapped box, it looked to be the size of a book. He silently took it in his hands, and stared at it some more. For a few seconds, they were in a comfortable silence. Then a quiet “thank you” was heard from his lips, Narcissa smiled,
“You can open it to see if you like it.”
He carefully teared the papers apart, and took out the gift out of its wrappers, revealing a beautiful ornamented book, just like he had predicted. The book was a deep night blue, lined with gold and silver swirls. The title printed in gold; it was a book about potions.
It was the same book he had received when he was nine in his last life, he remembered suddenly. He really is in the past, Draco thought absently. He looked at it with complicated eyes.
“I loved it.”
It may have come out a bit flat, but Narcissa saw the way Draco’s hands caressed the book with a gentle care. And that is good enough for her.
“I’m glad.” She put her hand on her son’s head and caressed gently.
Narcissa may not know what is happening for her son’s change in demeanor, but she would do anything to make him happy.
The next morning Draco came down to the dining room, father was present as well. He greeted them with a strange taste in his mouth, especially with his father. It was as if a heavy boulder had been set on his shoulder, he walked stiffly to his spot in the dining table and started with his breakfast.
“How do you like your gifts, Draco?” Lucius asked.
“It was wonderful, thank you father.” Draco answered curtly, ignoring the looks his parents made with each other, he missed them so.
Even if a part of his garbled mess of emotions was spitting rage at his father for believing and following a deranged master. He’ll have to find a way to convince his father of why he should avoid joining the death eaters again. He is not looking forward to that.
“Draco, are you ready for the party later?” Narcissa asked suddenly.
Draco looked up at her blankly, “Party?”
“Yes, Draco. Party, for your birthday.” Narcissa helpfully added which jogged his memory. Ah, the party for his ninth-year birthday, where he had met Pansy, and got stuck with her ever since. Don’t get him wrong, they became good friends and she came to be quite endearing to him, eventually. But she was still an annoying bint first then a sister second.
“…Yes mother…I am ready.” He replied, he winced. Narcissa looked at him with narrow eyes, really?
“…But…if you would assist me with my wardrobe, it would be delightful.” Draco added.
“Excellent, we will do just that.” Mother agreed, appeased, he let out a breath. Draco looked to his father; he was smiling softly at his wife’s antique.
Lucius may have been a prideful and arrogant man, short-sighted and delusional to the future they have. But he is by no means a bad husband nor father, though negligent in some places, as all parents are, he was loving and doting to his wife and son. Maybe if it’s him, he might just be able to convince his father, but not without some…extreme measures…
But, first, the party. Well, one thing at a time…
The party was set in the afternoon, and families are starting to arrive one by one. Narcissa, being the host of the party, greeted each one pleasantly with her natural elegance. Draco is currently in the designated parlor, on one of the many posh sofas of the Malfoy manor. He hadn’t been in one of these lavish gatherings in such a long time, he had forgotten how tedious it was. The long hours of planning, the longer hours in preparing it, and all the boring hours of socializing. He used to be a fish in water in these gatherings, as an attention seeker such as himself. He almost cringed outwardly when he remembered the times where he would flaunt his family’s wealth like one of the peacocks in their garden.
After everything that happened, he no longer has any interest with anything social. He gulped, his back straight as a rod, and throat as dry as a scorching desert. Pale white fingers with long sharp nails tapping on the Malfoy family’s dining table. Tap. Tap. Tap… The room was silent with dread. And Draco shivered.
Though, he would admit to the many advantages of having a good social network. And if he wanted to change anything this time around, he would need connections, and build his own rapports. He knows just the place to start, Pansy Parkinson.
She may not look like much, but she was the rumor mill of Hogwarts. Anything Draco would’ve missed; he would have full confidence that she would get her sticky hands on the information. She always had a knack of squeezing information out of people, even though her interests weren’t in the area he needed, she is quite the vain girl. Draco thought of the girl who had stuck to him like leech, the girl who was fierce with her protectiveness, something that he had pushed away in misplaced paranoia. But he would not repeat his past.
The first guest arrived, and Draco smiled, think of the devil and she will arrive. Pansy Parkinson is walking towards him with a standard pureblood smile, which is to say, fake. He smiled even more.
They curtsied and bowed to each other, Draco noticed how Parkinson was looking him up and down discreetly. He raised a brow, and her face was flushed slightly. 9 years old, and already she had the habit of evaluating people like clothing on a rack. Draco remembered how Pansy always wanted to have a business in fashion.
“Interested in my clothes, Lady Parkinson?” He started.
Her eyes glimmered, “Yes, well, I suppose it is quite an interesting combination.”
“Ah, then I will surely relay that to my mother, as she was the one who helped pick out my outfit. But I must say, you look fantastic.” Draco ignored the snobby attitude.
“Of course, I picked it myself.” Pansy declared proudly.
“I have no doubt you did.” Draco said with slight mirth in his eyes. Along with her social skills, Pansy had an impeccable fashion sense. Still a snobby bint though.
I made her cry again… He thought as he stared at the crying girl in front of him. Her eyes were filled with bitter tears and fiery anguish, and she turned and walked away. He didn’t dare call out to her.
Draco blinked. Pansy is still in front of him. By now, guests are arriving in swarms, and it is time to change the setting.
“Shall we go to the garden, Lady Parkinson?” He held out his arm for Pansy to take, and they walked out to the Malfoy garden where tables and chairs are meticulously placed, along with the different refreshments on the table.
Considering this is a social gathering, he needs to interact with other guests. So, he bid farewell to Pansy, promising to come back later. And proceeded to talk with other adults who introduced their children, hoping they could rouse his interest to be playmates, and tried to shower him with empty praises hoping he would remember enough to tell his father.
…Ha…
Some time passed, and Draco felt like he talked to a hundred people, which he most certainly did. He might’ve enjoyed this when he was a child, who wouldn’t? A party where everyone dotes on you, compliments you, and give you flashy presents. But he’s just tired, and weary of the watching eyes. He’s dead, he shouldn’t be wasting his time on talking to people he wouldn’t remember. who even are these people? Kinda counterproductive to his point of gaining rapport, but can you blame him?
He would rather be alone…
He was walking close to the fountain when he saw a group of girls, though they were smiling like flowers, their eyes are anything but beautiful. It was full of petty jealousy. He followed their gaze to its target, Pansy. Suddenly he remembered, when they were little, Pansy was once pushed into a fountain. He picked up his pace.
The girls didn’t notice him, and one of them sneakily pushed Pansy behind her back with the others covering. Pansy was, of course, surprised and caught off guard. Although her dress was beautiful, it was not built for dexterity and she was falling forward into the fountain.
Well, that’s what would’ve happened if Draco didn’t grasp her hand and spun her like they were dancing, steadying her.
“You should be more careful of where you stand, my lady.” He said smoothly.
…Did he sound a bit pompous? Why does he care? Draco looked down at Pansy, unknowingly disinterested.
“Oh! Of course, silly me.” She giggled. How fake, he laughed inside.
The girl who pushed her was so surprised, she turned away with colors on her face.
“Care to continue our conversation, Lady Parkinson?” He asked, knowing she would agree. And of course, she did. He’d be at a lost for word if she didn’t.
He led her to the inner gardens, slightly farther away from the action of the party. It was peaceful.
“Thank you, by the way, for saving me.” Pansy started this time, hesitantly.
He raised a brow at the familiar change of formality, but Pansy refused to acknowledge it. Choosing to look forward stubbornly instead.
“Of course.” He conceded.
At that, Pansy turned to smile at him, a genuine one. Draco was surprised, was it always this easy? How did they become friends in the first place? She fell into the fountain, and Draco took pity on her and helped her. Easy, simple. And he got stuck with her. Is it really that…effortless? He looked back at her and caught her staring, she looked away hurriedly. Draco felt like an idiot, of course, they’re no longer teenagers who have had plenty of experience of parties of the traditional pureblood families. He’s not dealing with Death-Eaters who need to shield their mind and camouflage their emotions. He’s looking at a child who is easily impressed by anything. Then at the corner of his eyes he saw something, jogging a memory so faint and inconsequential, but something he had found amusing.
He smiled at Pansy, “Would you like to see magic?” He asked with a grin.
“But we don’t have wands yet.” She said confused.
“Oh, it’s a different magic, better one. Do you want to see me predict the future?” He continued. And Pansy looked at him suspiciously.
“Do you see the boy over there?” He pointed at the young Vincent Crabbe across the lawn, and she nodded. “In the next…10 seconds or so, he would fall into that bush full of thorns and start crying.”
Crabbe is currently hunched over a bush looking at something Draco couldn’t see, but he remembered during his party, Crabbe was crying loudly with his face stuck with thorns. Pansy looked on doubtfully, but she waited expectantly. And sure enough, Crabbe fell over like some kind of invisible force pushed him a little bit too hard and he fell face first into the bush. Then he frantically tried to pull his face away but couldn’t, and proceeded to start bawling out in pain.
Pansy looked back at him, surprise and disbelief on her face. Draco was grinning sharply, and she felt a giddy smile on her face
“You can predict the future!” She exclaimed.
“Oh yes, and that will be our little secret. Alright, Pansy?” Draco raised his finger to his mouth, indicating secrecy, and Pansy nodded her head. Quite comically, might Draco add. Of course, he didn’t predict the future, he just had an idea inspired by something from the past and did some wand-less and wordless magic…but Pansy needn’t know that.
Crabbe is still crying in the bush and Draco decided to be merciful and help him get out of the bush. And Vincent’s face is as full of thorns as he had remembered, all in all, not a bad party.
Roaring fire everywhere, things and objects long forgotten crumbled down and burned into ashes in the sea of fiery red. Vincent falling, down and down, getting farther from his desperately outstretched hand. And he disappeared in the mouth of the serpent created by his own wand.
Draco froze in silent shock, his breath stopped, he blinked. He was still in the Malfoy Garden, Vincent with his youthful face still crying with thorns stuck on it. Pansy was trying to pluck them out with her nails. None of them noticed his stagger, nor his sickly pale face.
He exhaled shakily, and he was reminded of the sick reality that the universe decided to throw him in. He has so many things to prepare, and so little time. He looked back at the party and saw his mother; she was smiling, talking with the other adults. He stared at them, and he feel his resolve set heavily like a stone slowly sinking into a lake.
He will not make any mistakes this time, he will get through this, and he will not let his family go down in ruins. He doesn’t care that the universe hates him. And if the world is cruel, let it be. He will come out of it better than last time.
And he hoped desperately, that his promises will come true.