A/N Written for the Russian Roulette game.
Prompt: Learning Something
Draco Malfoy was always learning something new about the various people in his life. Aged twenty-eight, his life revolved around going to-and-from work, holding lavish dinner parties, and doing press interviews. It wasn't a typical life for a wizard, but for the Malfoy family, it was absolutely the norm. He had been raised around the glamour and arrogance of the "higher calibre of wizard" and so it was the only thing he knew. That was his life. That was until the eve of July third.
It was a humid night, well, humid enough for England which was a country that rarely experienced weather that could be considered hot. There was a crisp breeze blowing, which significantly cooled down the platinum-haired man who donned a white button-down and black slacks. His shoes laid in pristine condition in the hallway of Malfoy Manor on the second floor beside his bedroom. He was stood on the balcony, taking a drag of a cigarette; he had come to the conclusion that Muggles one hundred percent had better means of de-stressing than they had in the wizarding world. It wasn't as if anything was particularly stressful. Ten years had passed since the Battle of Hogwarts, and in all honesty, Draco was loving life. He was Wizarding Britain's most sought after bachelor, and had the easy job of going to parties and looking pretty.
His mother was adamant that he get married right from the end of the Battle, but he had other ideas. He didn't want his life to be planned for him after all he and his family had been through with the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters. Draco wanted to take hold of his own destiny, and if that meant the feeble activity of fooling around with whoever he wanted, well so be it. His stubbornness was a trait he had pondered over many years; he didn't think it was a trait particularly inherited from either of his parents, his father was a push-over, and his mother was drowning in a mixture of bravery and self-pity. Some days he thought it was just a trait he had acquired over years and years of spending too much time with people who rubbed him the wrong way.
He rubbed his cigarette into an ash tray, exhaled deeply, and walked back into his room, closing the balcony doors behind him. He walked in strides over to his wardrobe with his hands in his pockets, stared at the array of suits and fancy shirts, and sighed heavily. He was exasperated with the sheer amount of decisions for a simple outfit choice for the evening ahead. But this evening wasn't his usual dinner party. No. This party was going to decide whether he makes it, or breaks it. And he couldn't afford to break it. This party was the talk of the town for the weeks leading up to it. Witches and wizards were visiting all of the fancy robes shops in hopes of finding the perfect attire to be the star of the show. But of course, they never would be the star, because the spotlight always made its way back to Draco Malfoy, he made sure of it.
At seven o'clock, the first guest arrived. Well, guests. Pansy Parkinson waltzed into Malfoy Manor with her latest beau strapped onto her right arm. She wore a mid-length, emerald dress, and her partner matched his tie to the colour of Pansy's attire. Draco chuckled quietly to himself, making the snide remark in his mind that some people just never grow out of high school. This was a fact that he had learned long ago, a few years after they had both graduated from Hogwarts. She was stood outside of a restaurant in Hogsmede village, donning her boyfriend at the time, making snide remarks about almost everyone who passed by. He remembered approaching her, with the intention of starting a civil conversation, and it was then that the attention shifted to him.
"Oh, look who it is," she had said, smirking. "I hear this one is a real goody-two-shoes now. Very Gryffindor."
The memory made him laugh a little bit, and pity her. If she continued that for the rest of her life, she was just going to repulse everybody she met. But if there was something Draco had learned over the years, it was that some people just never grow up. He greeted them both and led them to the dining room. Draco knew that Pansy at least could make her own way to the dining room, but it was just his courteous nature and impeccable hosting skills that forced him to make the effort.
The dining room was nicely decorated: it wasn't overly lavish but at the same time, one could tell that time and effort went into the decorations. The lighting was slightly dim, giving the room an air of slight romance, and the usual light shade had been switched out for an extravagant diamond-studded e table was covered by a silken, charcoal-grey tablecloth, which draped beautifully off the side of it. The finest Malfoy silverware laid at each place mat.
Draco had strategically placed name cards at different chairs. He knew exactly what layout he wanted for his dinner party, and he wanted to make sure that the layout had the desired effect and shocked as many people as possible. Draco had seated himself at the far end of the rectangular table, and he had seated Pansy and her romantic interest halfway down. Once he had settled down the two early guests with their choice of alcoholic beverage, the doorbell rang once again. This time it was Blaise Zabini.
He and Blaise had been friends from a very young age, and Draco considered him possibly the only person he will ever be able to open up fully to. Anything Draco had on his mind, Blaise knew about, and vice versa. A tall, tanned woman stood to the side of Blaise. Draco led them to the dining room, and seated them opposite Pansy.
"Excuse me, Draco," Pansy whispered. "I was reading the name-cards and I couldn't help but notice 'Mrs Malfoy', so I assume our dearest Narcissa is joining us for dinner?"
Draco smirked at the young woman. "Actually, my mother cannot join us tonight. She sends her regards. Alas, Mrs Malfoy is not my mother's seat."
Pansy's face then featured a cocktail mixture of surprise and confusion. Her brown eyes filled up with questions, completely bewildered with the mystery behind the place-mat of the strange woman who would be joining them that night. Her questions, however, remained unanswered as a large group of young witches and wizards had arrived at the door.
Everybody was seated at the table with wine and champagne by half past the hour. Everybody, that is, except for the mystery of Mrs Malfoy. Draco relished in the confusion of his guests. He had once again succeeded in ensuring the spotlight remained on him and his swept back silver cuff links reflected the light pouring down from the chandelier, and laughter and chatting filled the room almost as much as the sweet aroma of the entrées. And it was then that there was a single, light knock on the door.
"Excuse me." Draco nodded to his guests.
Pansy's head craned around to try and get a glimpse at the door. Finally her questions were going to be answered. Once her eyes came into contact with the mystery guest, she felt her mouth hit the ground. Pansy caught sight of the large diamond resting on her finger, and the hands of Mr and Mrs Malfoy entwined together.
"You're Mrs Malfoy?" she scoffed.
"Yes, yes I am," Ginny said.
And in that moment, it wasn't just Draco learning things about other people anymore.