"Urrghhh."
Ah yes, the biting wit of the Malfoys. Draco lay still, nerving himself to open his eyes, trying to decide if he felt more sixteen or more dead. He always knew Pansy made a mean margarita, but last night she had really surpassed herself. And then Blaise had had some kind of potion…
"Urrghhh," Draco reiterated, and managed to pry his eyes open. To his grateful surprise, his head did not explode with new pain. The grinding ache with which he had woken was quite enough to deal with, he felt.
After another brief period of recuperation, he clambered arthritically out of bed and headed for the bathroom. A shower, a hangover potion, and a brushing of his teeth brightened his morning beyond all measure, and he dressed in some of his new clothes feeling the full return of his birthday mood.
"Good morning, Draco," his mother said with a small smile when he arrived at the breakfast table. "I rather expected you to sleep a little longer."
"Good morning, mother." Draco stretched. "No, it's too nice a day. I'm going riding."
"Your father wants to speak to you this morning," she told him, and returned to her breakfast. Draco finished his own in a haze of speculation.
Firebolt? Access to another family vault? A new horse? Or is he angry about something…did he find out about Blaise's potions book -- !
Lucius Malfoy was waiting for Draco in his study. He smiled as Draco came in and motioned him to the couch before the fire. This was a relief to Draco; it usually meant his father was not displeased with him. Displeased meant the unforgiving chair in front of the desk.
"I trust you enjoyed your delayed birthday celebration," Lucius said, coming to sit in the plush armchair to Draco's right.
"Very much," said Draco, not necessarily wanting to discuss the details of the party his friends had thrown for him.
"Good. You're becoming a man, and an acceptable Malfoy," said Lucius. Draco winced internally. "This summer you will be receiving some advanced tutoring in certain Arts which are shamefully neglected at that school. If you do well, you shall receive a reward before the start of the new term."
"Thank you, Father," Draco murmured, seething with curiosity. He liked his rewards clearly defined, but his father did not believe in unnecessary details before time.
"Certain…associates of mine will be watching your progress with great attention," said Lucius.
"I see," said Draco. "Thank you, Father."
"Make me proud," said Lucius. He smiled coolly at his son. "Your tutor will be here Monday next. You may have the week to prepare yourself."
"Thank you, Father," Draco repeated. His father nodded and waved him out of the study.
Draco went out to the stables and saddled his horse, then rode out into the grounds behind the manor, his mind churning.
Wonderful. School during the holidays. Still, it could be good…I could come back and finally have the best of Potter.
Oh, yes, Draco. That was what, three hours you went without thinking about him? This is not healthy. You're getting obsessed. How dare Potter absorb my focus like that! I'm a Malfoy! He's dust beneath my feet!
Well, okay, not really. More like the thorn in my side. Or possibly the crashing migraine that refuses to go away! I'd better learn something this summer to squash that Muggle-loving Golden Boy. This is too aggravating.
As he continued his ride, Draco occupied his very vivid imagination with scenes of Potter finally in his proper place, thoroughly beaten and under the thumb of one Draco Malfoy.
I could put him under Imperious and make him lick my shoes…or tell the Mudbloods how pathetic they are…or snog the Weasel…no, wait. That annoyed him for some reason.
I could zap him with butterfingers every time he came near a snitch! Or – or make him quit Quidditch – no, that would be boring. Hmmm. I could send invisible boggarts to follow him everywhere…"
It was a very enjoyable ride.