Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, hence, I am not famous.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: A huge thank you to all of my reviewers, who gave me an insane amount of reviews, I love you all. However, if I replied to all of you this time, I wouldn't get to post the chapter 'til next week, so for now, thank you. Next time, I'll start replying to reviews straight off to fit you all in. Thanks again!
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Chapter 2
Meetings
Draco easily made his way through the crowded streets of London. With his natural grace and the way he walked, as if he expected people to get out of his way, most people did unconsciously step away from his path and so he made surprisingly good time to the Leaky Cauldron.
It was a warm summer day and he was wearing baggy jeans slung low around his hips and a tighter, olive green t-shirt. A pair of ordinary black sneakers was on his feet and the necklace Bill had given him was still around his neck. His wand was shoved into his deep back pocket so he wouldn't get odd glances and his reflective sunglasses hid his gaze from the other pedestrians. Even though he was in the middle of Muggle London, he still kept alert for anyone who might not be on the best of terms with him. He had arrived in England on a plane and had gone straight to his flat, and he had yet to venture into the magical world, but it was only common sense to be on his guard after angering Voldemort as he had done.
He veered off from the rest of the Muggle crowd and entered the Leaky Cauldron. He could see the owner squint at him, as if trying to make out who he was, but Draco had changed since he had been gone.
He was a couple of inches taller, so that he was now on the taller side of average as opposed to the shorter side, and his frame had filled out a bit with muscle so that he wasn't quite the stick figure he had been before. His hair was still the tell-tale white-blond, but it was cut shorter, though it still hit the back of his neck and his bangs often fell into his eyes. He was also wearing Muggle clothes, and that was something a Malfoy just didn't do.
He pulled off his sunglasses, because the room was already dim making the shades a hindrance instead of useful, and the owner immediately knew who he was because his cold, grey stare had not changed.
"Mr. Malfoy, sir," he said with a slight smile.
"Tom," said Draco nodding politely. He glanced at his watch and saw that he had time to spare before meeting Bill and Dumbledore so he sat at the counter. "A coffee," he said, knowing that the Leaky Caldron had one excellent Columbian bean. Besides, it was still morning and much too early for anything stronger, though he suspected he might need one later tonight.
Tom efficiently fixed his coffee, sliding the mug over with a small pitcher of cream and a tray of sugar. Draco avoided both of them. Tom was always in bartender mode, and so he moved his glasses over to Draco and spoke while working.
"Haven't seen you in a while, Mr. Malfoy," he said. "Seen your father around quite a bit though, catching the Portkey to France and what not, but never you."
Tom was one of those people who noticed things. When Draco was younger, Lucius often took him with him to France on business trips because Narcissa wasn't exactly mother material. They would often pass through the Leaky Caldron, which was one of the few places that had direct Floo to the Manor, because it was conveniently located by Diagon Alley and the International Portkey platform.
Sometimes, before or after the trip, they would sit at the counter while Tom spoke meaningless small talk with Lucius. Draco would listen in, noticing how Tom could read the slight inflections in Lucius' tone and body language. Then Tom would fix a drink for Lucius, varying the amount of alcohol by how tense Lucius seemed, and then he would look over to Draco and study him as well, and then would either give him a hot chocolate or butterbeer.
That, Lucius would say afterwards, is a smart man.
"I've been away," said Draco, deciding from the heat of the cup that the coffee was too hot to drink, and while he could have cooled it with a charm or asked for an ice cube, he merely waited.
"Where abouts?" asked Tom, his brown eyes sweeping over him.
"The States," said Draco, frowning into his cup.
"Work?" asked Tom, knowing that they had no family over there.
"No," said Draco. "Just felt like getting away."
He had to consciously tell himself to relax; his muscles were tensed in the knowledge of today's meeting, and he took a breath and then a sip of coffee. The Floo flared to life in the fireplace a few feet behind him and he turned, more out of a self-preservation instinct than an actual desire to see who it was. He shouldn't have looked behind him. Lucius Malfoy stepped out of the flames along with another associate, and as Draco was turned, his father locked eyes on him.
Draco froze for a split second. He could see his father's grey eyes widen marginally, but that was it. The grey eyes than slid past him and over the rest of the costumers without acknowledging his presence. He turned back to the counter, feeling a spike of terror, and grasped the tabletop to hide the faint trembling in his hands. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, calming himself down, but the next instant he froze again when his father stepped up right next to him.
"I'll have a drink, Tom," Lucius said, completely calm.
Draco's hand slid unobtrusively to his back pocket and he pulled out his wand, then held it under the table in a loose dueling grip just in case his father did try something.
"Of course," said Tom. "Pull up a chair and it will be right up."
No, don't, thought Draco urgently, but his father sat down gracefully in the stool left to him. They were only inches apart, and Draco's entire body was tensed, his right hand curled in a fist so that his nails dug painfully into his skin, and yet his father seemed completely unaffected.
"Off to France again, then?" asked Tom idly to Lucius, while he pulled out a few bottles of this and that.
"Unfortunately, yes," said Lucius, and although Draco strained to hear anything that might show that his father was at least a little bit affected by his son's presence, he gave none.
He suddenly realized what he was doing, sitting next to his father, a Death Eater, who had no qualms killing innocents, so why would it be different with his son? He got to his feet, only barely hiding the fact that he wanted to bolt out the door. He pulled a few coins from his pocket and placed them on the table.
"Thank you, Tom," he said, keeping his voice steady and cool, much to his surprise and relief. "I'll be leaving then."
He started to turn, but Lucius' hand shot out, clamping about his forearm in a painful vise, halting Draco's escape. Lucius plucked the wand from unresisting fingers and placed it on the counter.
"Sit," he commanded, and although his voice was quiet, it was still as hard as steel. Years of obeying his father to the letter kicked in and Draco sat back down, his father not releasing his arm. If anything, the grip tightened, as if Lucius could read his son's mind and knew that he wanted to run.
"Fa-," Draco started, and then he cut off, because Lucius was disowning him and he had no idea what to call him.
It was only a slight consolation that Lucius tensed ever-so-slightly at Draco's blunder as well, though, whether it was from the fact that Draco started to call him 'father' or stopped himself, was impossible to tell.
"Give me one reason why I shouldn't have you killed right now," Lucius said harshly and Draco started a moment, wondering why Lucius had said that so everyone could hear, but then he realized Lucius had spoken in French, so he reverted to his native language as well.
"Parce qu'il y a des témoins," Draco said calmly back. (Because there are witnesses.)
For a moment, Lucius' grey eyes bored into his own, searching for something but Draco didn't know what he was looking for.
"Pourquoi?" asked Lucius, an urgency in his voice that Draco had never heard before, but it was only one word, one question 'Why?', and so Draco may have misheard. Either way, he was unable to answer.
The next moment he was sure he had misheard the inflection, because Lucius pulled himself straighter and stared down at him with that unreadable expression in his eyes. The transformation was so smooth, Draco began to doubt that he had ever heard the inflection, and he was left to wonder if Lucius really did feel nothing for his only son, but then Tom placed Lucius' drink in front of his father. Draco could tell by the color that the majority of the drink was made from Ogden's strongest firewhiskey. He couldn't tell if his father was affected by his presence or not, but Tom knew that Lucius was.
He felt his lips twitch slightly at the sight of the drink, and he couldn't help but look up at his father. Lucius glared and let go of his arm, and although his father's grip had been painful, Draco found himself missing the connection.
His father drained the glass in one long swallow and avoided looking at him again, placing the empty tumbler on the table and then motioning for his associate should follow him out the back door into Diagon Alley. Draco watched them leave, hoping his father would look back at him, even just once, but Lucius didn't even glance his way.
Draco watched the door slam shut, and then turned back to his coffee, wishing that he had ordered something stronger, even though he wasn't much of a drinker, not after Narcissa. Tom seemed to know what he was thinking, because he took Draco's cup and added a shot of whiskey and then a bit of sweetened cream, stirred it and warmed it with a charm, and then set back in front of Draco.
"Thanks," said Draco softly, picking up the cup and taking a long swallow. It was just at the right temperature and he could feel his muscles starting to relax. A glance at the clock showed him that he should be leaving now, so he drank the rest of the coffee and added a few more coins onto those he had already left.
"See you, Tom," he said, pocketing his wand again.
"Good-day, Mr. Malfoy," said the bartender.
Draco crossed to the fireplace, taking a pinch of the green powder in a box on the mantle and throwing it in the flames. "The Hogs Head!" he ordered and stepped in.
While he could have just Flooed straight to the Three Broomsticks, he didn't feel like stepping blind into a place that was so busy. The Hogs Head, while a shady and not quite legitimate establishment, was a place where no Death Eaters would gather. Yes, it was an area where illegal business ventures and trades took place, but the people who operated them were simply after money and power. They liked to keep their endeavors off Ministry radar, and so they kept hate crimes and Death Eaters far away.
He stepped out into the grimy pub and ignored all of the glances turned his way and headed for the door, stepping out once again into the bright sunlight and the warm breeze of mid-morning. He pulled his sunglasses back on and joined the crowds of wizards and witches out shopping or just enjoying the sun. Even though he was in Muggle clothes, he blended in with the other magical teenagers, who often wore Muggle clothing in the summer or on vacation.
He entered the Three Broomsticks at exactly ten o'clock, after having spent a few minutes watching the store. There were only a few people inside, as the breakfast rush had just already cleared out, and so Draco immediately spotted Bill Weasley talking with Madame Rosemerta at the counter. Bill's head jerked up when he entered, and Draco found his lips twitching up in his familiar smirk at his former-teacher's large grin.
He pulled off his sunglasses even as Bill came over, pulling him into a half hug and then letting him go, knowing that Draco disliked physical proximity.
"Look at you!" he said, checking him over to make sure he was alright. "You've got your hair cut and you're wearing colors, will wonders ever cease?"
Draco shrugged, trying to keep his lips from smiling. It was good to see Bill again.
"So, this is a 'yes', then?" asked Bill.
Draco shot him a look that said 'what else am I doing here?' and Bill laughed.
"'Course," he said. "Well then, come on in the back. Madame Rosemerta, we'll like those drinks in about half an hour."
"They'll be ready," said Rosmerta and Bill guided Draco towards the back room.
"Just so you know, there's an Auror in there too, and they'll have to do preliminary questions and all that, alright?"
"I thought there might be," said Draco. "I assume he's on the Order than?"
"Maybe," said Bill, but he was smiling, which told Draco his assumption was correct. "He'll be the one that you send your decoded letters to."
"You mean, assuming they let me join," said Draco, who knew that much more than just an ability to break codes would be judged.
"They'll be idiots if they don't," said Bill, and then they reached the door, and Bill opened it, guiding Draco in first.
Draco made sure to note the exact layout of the room. There was a large table, behind which Dumbledore and a large black Auror sat. Draco instantly identified him as Kingsley Shacklebolt. There were a few windows, but they were covered with curtains, and the only exit was through the door that Bill had just shut behind him. The former professor was now warding it as well.
"Come in, Draco," said Dumbledore kindly, his blue eyes twinkling up at him.
Draco hesitantly walked forward, keeping his eyes on the Auror, not really trusting the man. He pulled out the chair across from the two and sat, sprawling out slightly to show he was unaffected, but in a way that would allow him to jump to his feet at a moments notice.
This was bad. He was basically picking sides right now in a conflict that may not be resolved for another ten to twenty years, perhaps longer. If he was only looking out for himself right now, he would be staying far away, but there was Bill to consider as well. He eased his mind by reminding himself that in being a decoder he would be privy to information that might be useful in keeping himself informed. He was making it his business to know what was going on.
Bill took the seat next to Draco and Dumbledore leaned forward, obviously ready to start this meeting.
"I am very glad that you accepted Bill's offer, Draco," said Dumbledore. "I must say I was surprised when he cited you as his code breaker, but now that he has explained things, I must give you an apology. I never thought you would turn out as well as you did. You are quite a surprising young man."
Draco merely raised an eyebrow and Dumbledore continued.
"That aside, I assume you understand the position you are undertaking?"
"Yes," said Draco.
"Good," said Dumbledore. "I realize that you are uniquely suited to this sort of job, but there are still things we need to discuss, and some questions we need to ask. That is why Kingsley is here. Draco, meet-,"
"Kingsley Shacklebolt," said Draco, turning his eyes on the large Auror. "Graduated second in his class, and became the youngest Auror to ever become an Auror first class, which he achieved nine years ago. He is on the Auror Retrieval Squad, and, until recently, was in charge of protecting the Muggle Minister. Now he is in charge of the logistical aspect of the new operation the Ministry is calling 'Code Recon'. He joined the Order," here Draco broke off, studying the man, "oh, anywhere from two to one and a half years ago along with one Nymphadora Tonks."
Kingsley raised his eyebrows, his neutral expression still in place and Dumbledore's eyes twinkled even more. Bill was grinning at Kingsley in an 'I told you so' manner.
"I don't know," said the Auror to Bill, in a slow, deep voice. "He didn't tell me my middle name."
"You don't have a middle name," said Draco, turning back to Dumbledore. "I assume this involves Veritaserum?"
"It does," said Dumbledore, "but I assure you, we will only ask the necessities."
"Let's get it over with then," said Draco.
"Your wand," said Dumbledore, and Draco pulled it out and set it on the table, though every instinct told him not to.
Kingsley pulled out a vial of clear liquid and went to walk around the table, standing next to Draco and measuring out three drops. Draco's fingers tightened around the armrests on the chair, but he opened his mouth and the Veritaserum was placed on his tongue. He swallowed, the potion leaving a slight aftertaste that wasn't unpleasant, just disconcerting.
Dumbledore waited a moment, something that Draco was extremely grateful for, so he could calm himself and then Dumbledore asked the first question.
"Fawkes isn't the first phoenix you've seen, is he?"
Draco had to give Dumbledore props for the question. Not only was he checking to be sure that the potion was working, he was also seeing if Draco had the ability to fool the truth detectors.
"No," he said, allowing the potion to work since there was no sense in fighting it. "I saw one in the zoo in Paris when I was younger."
Dumbledore smiled at that and then the real questions began. "What is your full name?"
"Draco Lucius Malfoy."
"Are you in the service of Lord Voldemort?"
"No."
"Have you ever been in the service of Lord Voldemort?"
"No."
"Have you ever attended a Death Eater meeting?"
"Yes."
He noticed the slight flicker in both Dumbledore's and Shacklebolt's eyes.
"Have you ever participated in a Death Eater meeting?"
"No."
Dumbledore relaxed marginally.
"Have you ever wished to join the Death Eaters?"
"Yes."
"Have you ever been offered a position as a Death Eater?"
"Yes."
"What was the offer?"
Draco hesitated a split second, wondering if they knew, and for a minute he struggled with the potion, but then his mouth was talking. "The Dark Lord wished me to be his heir."
There were no shocked looks so Draco figured they already knew.
"Did you accept the position?"
"No."
"Why not?"
Draco paused again, but this time because he didn't know how to answer.
"I don't believe that following a Half-blood in order to purify the bloodlines is exactly sound doctrine. I don't believe that innocents should be killed for sport. I don't really believe that Purebloods have anything over Mudbloods, and I don't wish to be a servant to a power-crazed madman."
"But you were to be his heir. Didn't you want that sort of power?"
"I did. That's why I said no."
Dumbledore nodded at that, not thrown off by the twisted logic. "What do you mean 'I don't really believe that Purebloods have anything over Muggle-borns'?"
"I know that facts," said Draco. "Probably better than anyone else, but don't expect me to change a life time of beliefs in the space of a day."
"Fair enough," said Dumbledore. "One more question. Do you have the Dark Mark?"
"No," said Draco.
"May I examine your arms then?"
Draco put his arms on the table and Dumbledore cast a revealing charm, but nothing happened. Draco started to pull his arms back, but Dumbledore gently latched onto his left wrist and peered at his forearm.
"Are you alright, my boy?" asked Dumbledore in concern.
Draco looked down to see bruises where his father had grabbed his arm and the blue marks were in the shape of Lucius' hand.
"I'm fine," he said quickly, and truthfully, but then Bill was there as well, looking at the marks.
"Who did that?" he asked.
Draco battled with the Veritaserum, knowing that the potion was almost worn off, but it was still potent enough so that he answered honestly.
"Lucius," he said, and then silently cursed as both Bill and Dumbledore looked up at him in alarm and Kingsley sat forward a little.
"I passed him when I was coming here," said Draco. "He wanted to talk, I didn't, so he stopped me. That's all."
"I thought you said," began Bill but Draco cut him off.
"He doesn't," he said. "It's the first time he ever hurt me, and he didn't even mean to, alright?"
Bill searched his eyes but decided that he was telling the truth.
"Alright," he said.
Draco sat back, crossing his arms loosely over his chest to hide the bruises from sight. There was a knock on the door and Bill went to open it. It was Madame Rosmerta and Bill took the tray from her, and then shut and re-warded the door. He came over and set the tray down on the table and handed out the butterbeers.
Draco took the offered bottle; Veritaserum was not an easy thing to go through.
"Now then," said Dumbledore, once he had taken a sip of his own drink, "this brings us to the next topic we need to discuss, your safety, Draco. Since you will be attending school, and because you are a Slytherin, you are in grave danger from your housemates, who no doubt know of your refusal to join the Death Eaters."
"I am quite capable of handling myself around Slytherins," said Draco. "Even if they may be wishing to cause me bodily harm."
"I don't doubt it," said Dumbledore. "Why, I remember a time just last year when six Slytherins were found in the Charms room with no memory on how they had gotten there, and then a few months later, three more Slytherins were hospitalized with rather dark curses, however, a school is not a place where you should have to constantly be on your guard, especially not at night. That being said, I wish to congratulate you."
"On what?" asked Draco, suspiciously.
"On becoming this year's Head Boy," said Dumbledore.
Draco blinked, and Dumbledore continued to speak.
"Of course, it won't be official until you get your letter in the mail, but best of wishes ahead of time."
Draco finally found his voice. "You're joking, right?" he asked.
"Is something the matter?" asked Dumbledore.
"Everything's the matter!" said Draco. "What the hell are you thinking giving me Head Boy? I'm not Head Boy material, I-I don't even…," he found himself at a loss for words, turning in Bill's direction and hoping that his former professor would speak up in his behalf, but Bill was grinning at him excitedly.
"You'll do great," he said encouragingly.
"What?" asked Draco in disbelief. He turned back to Dumbledore with one last appeal. "Give it to Potter," he said. "He actually cares about things like that and he'll be an excellent example to the other students. I honestly don't give a shit about it."
"I think you will find," said Dumbledore, "that I am rarely wrong on my choice for Head students. Besides, you were a Prefect, you saved Ginny Weasley's life last year, and you receive steady, acceptable grades."
"I frequently use my position as Prefect to achieve my own goals that are always detrimental to the school, I have had more detentions than any other three students combined, I don't interact well with others, I am not on good terms with any professor in this school, and I have instigated or participated in every single one of the thirty-eight fights these past six years, save two. I am the worst candidate you have for Head Boy!"
"Why are you afraid of taking the Head Boy position?" asked Dumbledore simply, once his tirade had ended.
"I'm not afraid," said Draco.
The blue eyes were unconvinced and Draco leaned back in his chair, glaring at the Headmaster.
"I'm not Potter," he said finally. "Just because I have not joined Voldemort does not mean you should expect great or good things from me. If given the opportunity, I will use my power as Head Boy to further my own gain and ensure my own safety first and foremost. Now, with that in mind, if you still wish me to be Head Boy, I will accept."
Dumbledore did not look daunted. "I suppose I will just have to keep a close eye on you then," he said. "Make no mistake, Mr. Malfoy, I am aware that you are not an innocent, however, at this time, you are the closest thing to a neutral party we have, and I think that your presence as Head Boy may help this school stick together longer. Besides, this way you will not have to charm your curtains at night. The Head Boy has his own room and you will be quite safe from any one who wishes you ill."
"Very well," said Draco, inclining his head but not thanking him for the position.
"I am looking forward to the school year," said Dumbledore, with a slight, challenging smile on his lips, but it was gone the next instant. "There is another thing we must discuss and that is the job you will be doing for the Ministry. There are seven other code breakers, besides yourself, and there will be a mandatory meeting early next week so that the basic code breaking techniques can be taught."
"Unnecessary," said Draco.
"Is that so?" asked Dumbledore.
"I broke Bill's code without any instructions," said Draco. "I think I can handle his letters."
"These codes will be longer," said Dumbledore, "more intricate. And besides, it will give you a chance to meet the other code breakers. You will be in attendance."
His voice meant that there was no room for arguments, Draco had heard it from his father many times, and so he merely nodded. "Is that all?" he asked.
"One more thing," said Dumbledore. "I would like to offer you an invitation into the Order of the Phoenix."
Draco started to speak up, shaking his head, but Dumbledore held a hand up, stopping him.
"I know that at this time you probably have no wish to join the Order, and I respect that. However, the invitation is standing. If you ever change your mind, or if you need help for any reason, we will be there. Remember that Draco."
Draco was surprised by the show of generosity, not expecting such quick acceptance and it must have showed on his face because Dumbledore smiled kindly down at him.
"I will," Draco said, regaining his cold mask.
"Not at all," said Dumbledore, "thank you for accepting this role. I will owl you about the particulars of the code breaker meeting once we have all of the details finalized."
The meeting was over and Draco was relieved. He stood, placing his empty bottle on the table and pocketing his wand.
"Thank you, Headmaster," he said, inclining his head an inch.
"I'll walk you back," said Bill, getting up as well.
They exited the shop, back into the bright sunlight that made Draco's eyes water and he pulled his sunglasses back on.
"Where you headed?" asked Bill.
"The Hogs Head," said Draco. "Catching the Floo to the Leaky Caldron and then to my flat."
"You've got a place to stay already?" asked Bill surprised.
"I've had it for a while now," said Draco. "It's in Muggle London."
"Really," said Bill. "You're living as a Muggle?"
Draco shrugged. "I figured it was the safest place to be. Besides, I'm going to buy a car I think."
Bill laughed and then grew serious again.
"You don't have to answer this if you don't want to, Draco," he said, "but if you weren't going to join Voldemort, why on earth did you go to the initiation?"
Draco paused, but then answered. "The next day was my birthday," he said. "Because I was still a child, my bank accounts were joint vaults with my father. If he had known I was going to turn traitor, he would have pulled all the money out. If I turned seventeen without him pulling the money out, all of it would be mine."
"So what happened?"
"Well, that's the cool thing about birthdays," said Draco. "As soon as it is midnight day of, you're officially your new age."
"So, you stalled for time," said Bill. "To get the money."
"You sound disappointed," said Draco.
"A million galleons isn't worth your soul, Draco."
"How about ten million?" asked Draco.
Bill stopped and looked at him incredulous. "Ten million?" he asked.
"Cash," said Draco. "I've got another ten million in investments, and a chateau in France worth five."
"Twenty-five million," said Bill, in tones of one who can't really believe what he is hearing.
Draco smirked at him. "I'm a Malfoy, Bill," he said. "At least, I am for a little longer, and we like to keep financially secure."
"Financially secure meaning enough galleons to buy a new car whenever the fancy hits you?"
"Actually, I'll be paying in pounds," said Draco. "I did rather well when I was out of the country."
"Do I even want to know?" asked Bill. "It wasn't illegal, was it?"
"'Course not," said Draco. "I wrote a paper on physics and it's become required reading at a few colleges and then I composed a symphony."
"Magician's Symphony," said Bill suddenly. "That's the one, isn't it? It's been playing non-stop over the wizard's radio."
"That's the one," said Draco. They arrived at the Hogs Head and Draco gave Bill a slight smile. "It's good to see you again, Bill."
"You too, kid," said Bill. "But just so you know, next time, I'd rather you safe, than twenty-five million, alright?"
"Alright," said Draco.
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Bill walked back to the Three Broomsticks and entered the back room once more. Dumbledore and Kingsley were waiting for him.
"Well?" Bill asked, raising his eyebrows and taking his seat again.
"He's not what I expected," said Kingsley carefully. "So, he really is a genius then?" Dumbledore had told the Auror, just because he was the one controlling the logistics of the operation and he needed to know.
"Yeah," said Bill.
Kingsley shook his head. "Can you imagine what Lucius would have done if he knew? I can just see an anti-Muggleborn campaign under the reason that once you're inbred enough you can become a genius."
"I actually think that's why Draco kept it a secret," said Bill.
"It is Lucius' loss that he was not enough of a father to Draco to realize how smart he is," said Dumbledore. "Though I was always under the impression that they were close."
Bill shook his head. "From what I gather, Lucius isn't around a whole lot and is extremely manipulating, but there are…moments when he does behave as a father should. Draco is more confused on what he should feel, and he dislikes that feeling, which is why it's best not to mention Lucius around Draco. He can be quite defensive."
"What of his mother?" asked Kingsley. "Surely she would know."
Bill hesitated, than noticed that Dumbledore looked grave as well.
"Narcissa isn't mother material," said Dumbledore. "She was very self-centered, even as a child, and she has only grown worse. She also took up whiskey at a very young age. It really is tragic. She had such great potential."
The three fell silent. If there is one thing a child needs, it is the love of the mother.
"Well," said Dumbledore, "I have many things to do before the end of the school year, namely breaking it to the staff that Draco Malfoy will be Head Boy."
Bill grimaced. "They're sure to have conniptions."
"Without a doubt," said Dumbledore, "and I am afraid that Minerva won't speak to me after this. Alas, I do so enjoy talking to that woman."
He sighed, but got up, and the other two followed.
"Fleur wants to pick out baby names," said Bill.
"And the Ministry no doubt wishes me back," said Kingsley.
They said their farewells at the door and went their separate ways.
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Well, what do you think? Leave a review and let me know. Next chapter, we see Draco in action after an attempted kidnapping.
