Hi! Thank you all for the responses! You all are so kind, and I absolutely adore you.
Little bit of Dramione in this, if you squint and compare it to the rest of the fic.
Disclaimer: Nada
"Damnit," Draco muttered when the smell of oranges assaulted him. He looked up from the order book at the unwelcome guest standing just below the 'Welcome' sign. And because he was a good employee, he greeted, "Granger."
A wide smile broke out across her face, and Draco sent a sidelong glance at Maude who was filing her nails in the corner. He hadn't seen Granger since he left her at the café three days ago, and they had been a pleasantly calm three days. It was only right Granger decide to ruin his week. She pushed the hood of her cloak off her head as she poked through the potions Maude had on display. The old woman hated when customers manhandled her displays. Draco assumed Maude let her do so, because Granger kept her gloves on. Or because she was Hermione bloody Granger and could ruin the new spike in Maude's business with a sneer.
Ginny and the old man were on a supply run today; and even though it should have only taken a few hours, Draco and Maude knew the two of them would make a day of it. Their regular supplier was going through a bitter divorce or some other personal drama and had claimed he was too upset to make the rounds that week. So the old man volunteered to round all their supplies up, and Maude sent Ginny with him. The two of them left hours ago, bouncing around like it was some school trip to Hogsmeade. Maude had watched them go with a scowl, commenting to Draco that the others were far too chirpy far too early.
So their day had been easy. Maude preferred working with the potions to the front room, so she and Draco took turns manning the register and order book. When Granger had walked in, Maude was waiting for two different cauldrons to cool down and another one to finish washing itself. When customers realized Ginny and the funny old man weren't about, they typically were in and out without bothering Draco and Maude.
Except for Hermione Granger who had taken it upon herself to be Draco's personal nightmare.
"Are you looking for anything in particular?" Maude asked without taking her attention off her nails.
Draco fidgeted with the quill in his fingers, tapping it against the top of the order book.
Granger shook her head, "Just looking."
Maude looked Draco up and down, scrutinizing his posture in a way she hadn't done in the past, and then tucked away her file.
"I'll be in the back if you need anything," Maude said with a pointed glance at the artifact from Borgin's which alerted her to any theft. "Black, take your break."
"You're insufferable," Draco snapped after Maude had disappeared. It only made Granger laugh lightly. "Let's do this, yeah?" he added, motioning to the door. He grabbed his cloak from the chair and followed Granger into the cold November afternoon.
"How are you liking the book?" she asked, hiding her hands under her cloak.
"It's all right," Draco lied. He loved it. Finished it in a day and was working on a second read through. "Muggles don't have the same way with words as wizards do."
"Naturally," she replied sarcastically.
Granger looked happy, Draco thought. Happier than most people he knew and certainly more expressive than anyone he knew. He wondered how she had coped with the war since the dust settled. People like Nott and, as he understood, Ron Weasley threw themselves into their work. Long days and even longer nights, pouring over whatever they could to book their time. Longbottom was apparently learning about being a business owner. He had heard a few people he knew in passing were now residents at St. Mungos, more still were gone, and others were just getting by. But Granger was happy.
And Merlin almighty was she a talker. Had Hermione Granger ever been someone so chatty? Not that he would know, he supposed. What annoyed him more than her prattling, though, was that he was listening to her. Not actively by any definition, but he heard everything she was saying and could probably recite it back if someone asked him to.
She had been offered some position within the Ministry after leaving Hogwarts, he gathered, but she turned it down as she didn't think she had any formal training for the job. Draco didn't ask what the career was, but he knew she was happy about where she was now—a paid intern for some sector in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Her preference were the cases where she got to work with House Elves, which wasn't really surprising to Draco. Granger told him that the hours were a little too lax for her liking, but she made up by tutoring muggle and magical children during the summer months or when she could on weekends.
The upcoming weekend was one she usually allotted to tutoring muggle children, but an event at the Ministry would take up her time. Draco groaned internally. It was a charity event for orphans of the war, the first of its kind. He had known about it for months, and Draco and Pansy had argued over it extensively. Were they required to attend? Nott had told them that he was told by Millicent Bulstrode who was told by Blaise Zabini that there was high expectations for anyone associated with the Death Eaters to attend. Pansy ardently refused to go the entire first month after they found out. She hadn't been a Death Eater. Her parents hadn't marred their forearms for the Dark Lord. She felt no necessity to go. It took Draco a good three and a half weeks to convince her to come with him. Pansy wasn't innocent, and he reminded her of the fire of gossip she would be under if she didn't show. All it would take was one person who thought she ought to be there.
The whole situation was unpleasant, and he found it even more so knowing Granger would definitely be there.
He didn't comment on his own attendance, though, and Grander didn't inquire.
When they walked into the café, she was updating him on Winky, who he was interested in. The worker raised a hand to greet them and said he'd bring their normal order to Draco's table.
"She has been itching," Granger told Draco after he asked. "But the ointment seems to be helping? At least, according to Kreacher."
"What is Kreacher?" Draco asked despite himself. Though, he thought he may have heard his mother mention the name on several occasions years ago, before he met Granger who did mention it from time to time.
"Kreacher is Harry's House Elf," she said, pulling her hair back with a band. Draco noticed she couldn't even wrap it twice. The world around them was changing, but Granger's hair seemed it never would. "Well, he was the Black's House Elf, but Harry inherited him when Sirius died—Sirius was Harry's godfather. Winky's Kreacher's mate. She used to work in the Kitchen at Hogwarts, but her drinking got too bad."
He hummed in acknowledgement, thinking on the House Elf who used to work for his parents. Granger attempt to steer the conversation towards his own experience with House Elves, and, truly, he thought about telling her about that Elf; but when he mulled over the words in his mind, the experience just seemed too personal. The Malfoys were hardly kind to their help, notoriously so, and he didn't feel like letting Hermione bloody Granger into that part of his life. She had somehow managed to weasel her way into his current reality: she could remain there, but not his past. So he shut her inquiry down with a look that he had hoped was withering. Granger just gave him a small grin, which irked him more than it should have.
Something in him wanted to say something just to get a rise out of Granger—to see if he could still do it. Draco didn't think calling her a mudblood would get her to leave, though, and he didn't even think he could bring himself to say it.
So Draco pulled his book out his cloak when Granger dug through her handbag for something (her own book). But he had trouble focusing on his book for too long. He would read a couple pages and then find himself glancing at Granger to see what she was doing. Each time, she was engrossed in her book. A thick tome with no title on the spine or cover, just finely bound pages protected by a deep purple cover. Granger's brow was furrowed slightly in concentration. Her jaw was clenched the same way Pansy's did when she was reading the social pages of the Daily Prophet. Draco noted how Granger's eyes darted over the pages quickly, but he didn't think she had flipped the page since pulling it out. It was probably a reference book, he surmised.
He startled when the worker put their tea on the table.
"Thank you," Granger chimed, setting her book on her lap momentarily.
"What are you reading?" Draco asked her, though he swore he had meant to tell her they were splitting the bill.
"A History of Wizarding Law," she supplied while giving her tea a splash of milk.
"It sounds awful."
"Oh, it's incredibly dry," Granger replied, "but I suppose not every book can be A History of Magic."
He frowned at her.
"I'm kidding!" she laughed. "I don't love everything I read. Although, I do find Merlin's era pretty fascinating."
"Everyone finds Merlin's era fascinating." Draco took a sip of his tea and started, "Well, Pansy," but cut himself off. He cleared his throat, throwing a unnecessary look about, before focusing his attention back on his book.
Granger began spitting out some of her favorite tidbits about Merlin's Age of Magic, the last of his books she had read. Draco half paid attention to his book as he nodded along to what the witch across from him was saying. He corrected her when she interpreted something Merlin wrote to mean he was an open, welcoming person. In any work Draco had ever read of Merlin's, the impression was that Merlin was content to live alongside muggles; but he was in no way open to bridging links between the wizarding world and the muggle world. Ten minutes into their back-and-forth, Draco had a feeling she brought up the subject to purposefully draw him in. He wasn't about the concede to defeat, though, so he kept arguing with her.
The rest of his hour passed by quicker than he accounted for after the debate began. He almost missed the quarter of the hour, merely catching sight of the time by chance when a nearby wizard checked his pocket watch. Draco passed Granger some coins, apologizing before quickly ducking out the café. He clutched his cloak tight around his neck and doubled pace to get back to Mulpepper's on time.
Maude was behind the counter with a dumb smirk on her face when he nearly broke through the front door. His timecard behind the counter slid back into place easily, a green checkmark appearing beside today's date before it did. Draco had never been late for a shift, and he wasn't particularly interested in finding out the punishment for tardiness.
"Are you dating Hermione Granger, Mr. Black?" Maude asked, teasingly.
Draco gave his employer a side eye before he passed into the backroom.
"I wouldn't judge you if you were, love," she said, following him. "It's quite cute, isn't it? Although, I do wonder how your friendship with our darling Ginny would fare."
"Has someone spiked your coffee, Maude?" He frowned as he tied his apron. "You're sounding mad."
"You're a good worker, lad, but I will fire you if your social life interferes with your work here."
Draco stared back at her blank face for a moment before nodding. He rolled his eyes when she turned away from him. A social life? What social life? He was here from sunrise to sunset, and Maude knew he went immediately to Borgin's. And she also knew neither location paid him well enough for anything outside living. He snatched the braid of garlic from nearby. Draco wondered if Maude thought he was getting too comfortable. He didn't always take so long on his breaks, so perhaps she thought he was on track to slack.
Later on in the week, the day of the Ministry's even, Maude's comments floated around his mind as he and Nott stood in front of a large washroom mirror, adjusting their appearance. This wasn't a social life: it was a duty. Consequences for his actions. A small price to pay for the horrors he committed and allowed others to commit.
"You all right, mate?" Nott asked, patting his shoulder.
"I'm fine," Draco responded, running a hand over his blonde locks. They felt heavy with the product. Even the potion he used to darken his hair in Knockturn Alley didn't weigh it down. Maybe he was being ridiculous. Perhaps his anxiety was going to his head. He looked fine. He looked like Draco Malfoy. "Thanks for the robes," he added.
"Course. Shall we?"
One of the finer wings of the Ministry had been well decorated for this event. They had passed the main hall in their search for the washroom, and Draco was rather interested in seeing the more intricate decorations. The main hall of the wing was done up with fine colors. Deep purples and teals, complemented by silver finishes and a splash of white opal. The hall had two high chandeliers illuminating the colors so that the room wasn't too heavy with the darker colors. Sheer curtains covered the windows and let in what little light was left of the day. His mother used the same technique when she used to host parties at the Manor. Both of his parents had always preferred darker tones, but the lighting added an element to their rooms that lighter accents wouldn't do.
On their way to the main hall, he and Nott passed a few other rooms that were part of the event's display. Different charities and organizations that helped orphans or housed them. Each room was devoted to informing guests of the struggled orphans faced, but also what the charities were accomplishing through volunteers and philanthropy. Draco figured he and Pansy would peruse the rooms together just before leaving. Then they could go back to the Wyvern and drink themselves silly with the images fresh in their mind.
Draco felt eyes on him as he walked beside Nott. When was the last time he made a public appearance? Had it been so long? He supposed it had been long enough to drum up gossip. People were absolutely bonkers that night at Nott's when they saw Pansy. He heard people talking about her all night long until she gave them something else to talk about. Draco imagined he was a little more exciting than Pansy was for people. The Malfoys had been in the spotlight his entire life—and long before—and it was a bit of an adjustment for the wizarding world to go completely without hearing of them and from them.
Pansy was chatting with one of the Healers from St. Mungo's when Draco and Nott walked in. She looked absolutely stunning, Draco thought. She had spent the entire morning with her grandmother, getting her hair and makeup done and being properly primped for her dress. Pansy had done a fine job herself of cleaning up before departing for her grandmother's, but the people her grandmother paid really added that socialite shine to her appearance. Despite her glitzy look, though, Draco could tell she felt miserable. It was the slight tension in her shoulders and the way the fingers of her left hand twitched.
"This is bizarre," Draco commented quietly.
"I'm afraid it's relatively normal for me," Nott replied. "I feel I spend more time cozying up to potential donors than doing medical work."
"I do nothing but work."
"And take tea with Granger, I hear."
Draco fixed Nott with a glare. The latter held up his hands and grabbed two champagnes from a passing server.
"Drink up and find your parents, yeah? I'll save that Healer from Pansy," Nott added and left Draco alone.
He had barely been alone for half a minute before some of his old acquaintances assaulted him. Where had he been? Was he alone? Had he seen Pansy Parkinson? Was he here with Pansy? Didn't he miss the good old days where he wasn't guilt-tripped into attending an event? Had he heard Daphne Greengrass' elderly husband recently passed? Questions on questions of trivial gossip, thinly veiled comments on the good old days, and one or two propositions. Honestly, he felt a little off his game. He and Pansy should have practiced idle prattle in the week leading up to this. Though, he guessed not talking to some of these idiots is something he would have done in the past anyway. Add in a sneer or two, and he was good.
Draco reached the bar after a half an hour speaking with the Carrow twins, Flora and Hestia. Talking with them was less painful than he anticipated. He mostly stumbled into their own conversation about Flora's apprenticeship with a respectable Potions Master in Belfast. He had barely spoken with either of them at Hogwarts, but they didn't seem to mind him discussing potion-making with them. The bartender nodded to him when he asked for a Firewhiskey neat.
Lucius and Narcissa were easy enough to find. The deeper he got into the room, the more familiar with people he was. Their murmurs and quick looks lead him right to his parents. Seemingly unaffected by the storm of whispers around them, the Malfoys stood by the large windows in conversation with Andromeda Tonks. An aunt he knew in name only. He thought he had seen her once when he was a child, but his mother always reminded him that no Tonks were welcomed at the Manor. He wondered what she would even be doing here. From the way his mother and Bellatrix talked, it sounded like Andromeda had sworn off wizard events. Something turned in his gut, though, when he heard someone nearby mention Lupin's name. Of course. The war had made an orphan of Andromeda's grandson. Naturally she'd attend.
"Oh, my darling," Narcissa cut Lucius off mid-sentence when she spotted Draco. She passed her drink off to Lucius and wrapped Draco in possibly the tightest embrace he had ever experienced. "You feel underweight: are you eating?"
Narcissa let him go after a socially acceptable amount of time. His parents may have turned recluse, but they weren't uncivilized. It didn't matter if his mother was an emotional wreck right now, she wouldn't look it.
"I'm eating fine, mother," Draco replied, kissing both of her cheeks. He gave his father a grin and handshake, but he couldn't shake the overwhelming feeling of wanting to hug both of his parents. Draco had never been particularly affectionate, but seeing them brought out something he would rather keep buried.
His mother latched onto his left arm, situating him between herself and Lucius as if she were afraid he would make a run for it.
"Draco, darling," Narcissa started, "this is my sister Andromeda."
"Lovely to meet you, Draco," Andromeda smiled. He noted that she looked awfully similar to Bellatrix. Perhaps a little less rough, though a little worn. Probably from living well below the society the Blacks and Malfoys were accustomed to. "Your parents rarely talk about anything other than you."
"Oh, that's not true," Lucius said.
"Yes," Narcissa added, "we frequently comment on the weather."
"It's a pleasure," Draco nodded to Andromeda. "I hope your grandson is doing well."
Andromeda's smile widened. She had the same smile as his mother and Bellatrix. "He's quite well, thank you." She clasped her hands in front of her and glanced around. "He's here somewhere. Wherever his godfather has gone off to."
Lucius gave Draco a pointed look, but Draco wasn't quite sure what his father was trying to communicate.
His parents and Andromeda seemed to pick back up the conversation they had been having before he arrived, discussing some cocktail party Andromeda and Narcissa had both attended the other weekend. From what he understood of their conversation, it seemed to Draco that his parents had not kept up the same hermit lifestyle as when he had left them. He wouldn't say they were the same 'new gala every weekend' Malfoys, but Narcissa certainly seemed to take tea with Andromeda frequently. And from the inside jokes that went well over his head, even his father seemed to have indulged. He was even more surprised when both of his parents laughed at a reference Andromeda made to bloody Harry Potter.
Draco stared at his parents when Andromeda excused herself.
"Well, don't stand there gawking, darling," Narcissa lightly chastised. She detached herself from Draco, adjusting his tie before taking Lucius' proffered hand.
"It's a general reaction to an odd situation," he replied.
"What's odd is that none of the Flints decided to attend."
"I am in my twenties, and this is the first time I've ever met Andromeda."
Narcissa leveled him with a look. That look.
"Yeah, yeah, I know," Draco grunted and followed his parents as they made their rounds.
He felt like a child again at times, standing quietly beside them while they mingled with all the respectable people. The faces and positions may have changed, but the routine never would. They would laugh at poor jokes told by old men. They would coo over bad photos of ugly babies. They would turn an expression when required. The war may have thinned out the mites in the woodwork, but it did little to change anything else.
Draco found himself paying closer attention to his parents this time. They played the same people they always were in society, but he noticed small changes in their conversations and their overall body language. When they spoke to people who had been deeply situated in similar circles before the war, the conversation was quick. Barely anything between the greeting and farewell. A couple times they didn't even draw Draco into the conversation—which was fine by him—before they were moving on to another part of the room. Those his parents tended to stay in conversation with longer were people who hadn't been ardent supporters of the Dark Lord and those who vocally opposed him. He didn't really understand if Narcissa and Lucius were sticking closer to them because that was the new image they wanted people to associate with Malfoy or if they were partly hoping to dampen their own elitist positions by exposing themselves to more moderate and progressive opinions. A bit of both, he concluded.
There was more than their interactions with others, though. Draco noted his parents were far more affectionate with each other. For as far back as he could remember, his parents upheld a strict code for public displays of affection. They always stood close to each other but never touched, unless it was Narcissa's hand in the crook of Lucius's elbow. And if it was a more casual public appearance, Lucius would let his hand rest on Narcissa's mid-back while they stood about. Today, though, they were holding hands, smiling at each other, and exchanging glances like they were two smitten seventh years. Draco even saw his father kiss the back of his mother's hand when they thought he wasn't watching.
It was bizarre. He felt like he had entered into a different world.
After nearly two hours of making conversation with various people at the event, his parents finally began to relax. They took a seat at their table while Draco found a server who would bring them three glasses of finer champagne than they were serving.
"How is Pansy, darling?" Narcissa asked when Draco settled down beside her. "We saw her arrive with her grandmother earlier."
"She seems to be harassing every Healer from St. Mungo's in attendance," Draco said, glancing around to see if she was anywhere nearby. "Theodore Nott is with her to make sure she doesn't assault them."
"Everyone's so curious to know what you two have been up to," Lucius told Draco, nodding to someone who passed them. "I have to say, I'm usually at a loss for words," he added and received a sharp look from Narcissa.
"Nothing you'd find too exciting," Draco laughed and hoped he sounded casual. "Exploring London. Helping people when we can. I think Pansy's writing a book. I won't see her for days on end sometimes," he lied easily.
"Six months is a long time to be doing nothing exciting," Lucius responded, eyeing Draco critically. It took all his willpower not to squirm under his father's stare.
"We're all coping, Lucius," Narcissa said quietly. The three of them remained silent for a moment as Lucius's gaze flittered between his son and wife.
"You can't live like that forever, Draco."
Draco barked out an involuntary laugh, thinking on his real situation.
"I know, I promise. It's a reprieve right now. You're more than welcome to visit us, if you'd like. Pansy's family has been especially gracious with the living situation."
"We'll come soon," Narcissa assured him like they always told Pansy.
He wondered how much his parents questioned. They clearly didn't believe him to some extent. But Draco wasn't sure how much of his lie they truly believed and how much they were just indulging him. He had no real responsibilities as Draco Malfoy. He could waste his early twenties. If the war hadn't happened, if things had been like they were when he was born, he would have spent his early twenties testing the strength of his liver and libido. As his mid-twenties approached, he would have been introduced to a handful of women looking to be the future Mrs. Malfoy. And he would continue to test his liver and libido. In his late twenties, he would work alongside his mother for Malfoy Apothecary, behind the scenes work, doing next to nothing for a ridiculous amount of money. He would marry one of the paraded women. And he would continue to test his liver and libido.
Perhaps his parents saw this year as part of his wasted twenties.
But they didn't give any indication they knew what he was really doing. Sure, they seemed skeptical, but Draco did not imagine they would venture into Knockturn Alley looking for him.
Draco looked on as his parents cackled over something Narcissa said that he completely missed. Maybe they would have discouraged him from testing his libido. As far as he knew, both of them skipped that part of elite youth culture.
Lucius was telling him about some dinner Andromeda was hosting in a couple weeks when Draco caught sight of Pansy making her way towards them. She was scowling as much as she could in a public setting, but Draco knew her well enough to see it. It was something in her jaw. The reason for her expression was just behind her.
Granger. Because of course it was.
His parents' cocked their head to the side, almost comically, when they noticed Draco stiffen.
"Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy," Pansy greeted with a wide smile. "It's so good to see you. You remember Hermione Granger, I'm sure." Pansy glanced warily at Draco as she presented Granger to his parents. "We were just discussing magical artifacts, and I thought she would love to pick your brain, Mr. Malfoy, seeing as they're a hobby of yours."
Narcissa's brow furrowed in confusion, and Draco assumed Granger had been talking Pansy's ear off. She was pawning the witch off on them. Lucius, though, remained impassive. He gazed blankly back at Pansy, who frowned under the attention.
"Well, I'm off," Pansy said instead. "There are several champagnes I have not tried."
"You look well," Granger told them, fidgeting with the fabric at the waist of her dress. Draco got more satisfaction out of her discomfort than he probably should have.
"We are well," Narcissa replied, openly taking in Granger's appearance. "You have a snag in your dress."
Granger looked down at her sleeve and toyed with it as she said, "Oh, yes. There was a mishap in one of the charity rooms, and my dress was collateral damage." She laughed at herself and then cleared her throat when none of the Malfoys joined in.
"Are you not an adept witch? Can you not fix it?" Lucius asked.
"It's just a dress," Granger chuckled lightly, albeit slightly uncomfortably.
"So you've taken up a new hobby, Granger?" Draco said to deter his parents critique of Granger's dress.
Granger sat down beside Draco and began prattling on about the books she had been reading on magical artifacts from early 20th century Tunisia. She threw both of his parents off, but he didn't really find that surprising. She came on like a storm, and Narcissa and Lucius hadn't really processed her rapid fire speech. What did surprise Draco, though, was that Lucius seemed to indulge her first. He was absolutely still guarded and suspicious of Granger's presence, but he was engaged in her sermon. Lucius even nodded along a couple times when Granger said something astute.
His mother, on the other hand, kept her cool composure. She sat with her hands folded in her lap; her chin held high and haughtily; and her expression bordered between carefully blank and disparaging. Draco even caught Narcissa sending a look in Lucius's direction that he assumed was her way of being disapproving.
"You have some fascinating ideas," Lucius commented while Draco was flagging over a server.
"Firewhiskey neat," Draco requested from the waiter as Granger told Lucius about a trip she was hoping to take to see the newest relic that recently surfaced in Gabès.
"Make it two," Narcissa added.
Ten minutes into Granger's conversation with his father, Draco grew utterly paranoid. They had ventured into discussing Borgin and Burkes, and he worried that one of them would suggest a trip. Which was a laughable image itself. To her credit, Draco thought Granger was attempting to steer the conversation away from Knockturn Alley. She mentioned other shops around England that collected artifacts, but Lucius swore that Borgin's was the only shop worth the price. Draco didn't think Granger knew he spent most nights at Borgin's, but he assumed she thought that Lucius would happen upon him at Mulpepper's. It was kind of her, and Draco didn't particularly know how to feel about being on the receiving end of Hermione Granger's kindness like this.
"I should get going," Granger said after another ten minutes. "I promised to show someone around the displays."
"It was a pleasant surprise talking to you, Miss Granger," Lucius replied, and Granger visibly preened.
Narcissa lightly scoffed, but Draco was sure he was the only one who heard her.
"Likewise, Mr. Malfoy. I hope you enjoy the rest of your evening. Mrs. Malfoy, Draco." And she left them to their own company.
"Who knew," Lucius muttered to himself.
"Indeed, love," Narcissa hummed shrewdly.
His parents stayed another hour before deciding the night was getting late. The first quarter of the hour was spent in silence while Lucius and Draco drank, and Narcissa silently glared at her husband after he mentioned something he should have told Granger. Draco didn't think his mother's reaction to Granger was that out of place. Draco had spent nearly all of his school years complaining about Granger, claiming she was the reason he would never be top of the class. Any little thing that went wrong in his academic career, his teenage-self rationalized was Granger's fault. His mother owed no family allegiance to Granger as she did with Andromeda—who she had always considered a blood traitor. Narcissa wasn't an unreasonable woman, but she was deeply entrenched in their blood superiority upbringing and affected by Draco's experience. Even if his mother recognized Granger's adeptness and intelligence, she would most likely always be the girl who one-upped her son.
Narcissa had significantly cooled down by the time she and Lucius were ready to leave, though. She even held his hand as Draco walked them towards the exit.
"Don't let so much time pass before we see you again, darling," Narcissa demanded of Draco. "And make sure you're eating balanced meals."
"Of course, mother," Draco laughed as he kissed her cheeks.
"I can recommend an excellent kitchen staff."
"There's no need, mother."
"Well, at least come by for a meal every once in a while."
"We have a new cook, who makes the most delicious bread pudding," Lucius informed him.
"I'll send you an owl, I promise," Draco assured them.
Pansy showed up beside Draco as he watched his parents walk down the hall towards the room where several Floo networks were located.
"Traitor," he murmured.
"Merlin's beard, she was talking my ear off. You'd think we were mates once upon a time," Pansy grunted. "She and Nott were talking about some bloody volunteer organization they both participate with, and then he left me with her."
"Do you want to leave?" Draco sighed, feeling quite done with the day.
"I kind of want to drink until they kick us out."
Draco glanced at her. "Are you all right?"
"Are you really going to pass up free alcohol, Draco Malfoy?" she asked. "Come on, we'll drink until our liver can take no more and then sob obscenely over the displays. It'll be fun."
Ehhh?
I love the Malfoys as much as the next Malfoy fan, but I don't want to sugarcoat their glaring elitism. So bear with me (and them) over their next several appearances.
Reviews are cool. You're cool. J.K. Rowling is cool.
