Chapter 12 The Malfoys
Draco purposely signed the first initial of his name instead of signing Daniel. He didn't favor the concealment, but he wasn't a friendly Hufflepuff, who would gladly reveal his name in an effort of finding favor, or a practical Ravenclaw who would choose the most logical, direct path. He especially wasn't a Gryffindor with his heart on his sleeve willing to bare all without considering the consequences. He was a Slytherin. He would expose himself when he had secured her affections, when he was guaranteed victory.
He had watched the owl fly away and wondered if his flirtatious letter would cross the line with Granger. His connections in the MLE informed him that she rarely dated, and even those were short lived. But he couldn't help his desire to be around her. During the war and up until now, Draco had been in a penitent limbo. Every attempt he had made to move forward was always denied by a remnant from his past, be it seeing Katie Bell on his first day of work at the Ministry, or running into Granger and accidently exposing his true emotions. However, his charm and successful elevations within the Ministry of Magic served their purpose as a veneer to his inner struggles. No one suspected Draco went to bed overcome with guilt more nights than not because he never showed it. Granger was the opposite. Her passion for life which she openly displayed was infectious. He did not even need to speak to her, proximity alone rescued him from melancholy. He longed to know what kissing infectious passion felt like. He hoped she would respond in the positive to his owline message.
Saturday brunch with his parents happened once a month. The gardens at Malfoy Manor were unparalleled, but few were privileged to its beauty. Narcissa Malfoy was a changed witch following the war. Before the war, she invited guest after guest in an ostentatious showing of her immaculate landscaping. Now, she had little desire for the frivolities she once sought out and coveted. With her pompousness corroded away, she gardened for her own peace of mind, and because she was a Malfoy, that peace of mind was a vulnerability, thus a secret. No Malfoy was weak.
On the outside, Lucius Malfoy struggled the most of the three post-war. His exemption from Azkaban garnered ill-favor and resentment from his "collegues" that had served. He wasn't "only a child" like Draco, or "the witch that lied to Voldemort" like Narcissa. He was simply the father and husband of the two-an identity that was truthful but not how he defined himself. The first post-war year was a struggle for redefining himself and the Malfoy name. In the process, he discovered his business savvy and had a newfound pleasure in controlling others from an investment perspective, rather than threatening lives. Although successful, even three years later, he was the least liked Malfoy.
This Saturday brunch found all three Malfoys in high spirits as Lucius and Narcissa praised Draco's swift promotion to Head of the Office of Magical Cultural Affairs. He absorbed their praise and answered their questions with alacrity, even when Lucius questioned the unconventional campaign. Draco was able to deflect suspicion of Muggle influence over the ideas of owline dating and Polyjuice Speed Dating. Satisfied, his father directed his new line of inquiry towards profiting by outsourcing the owline dating to a new, private company.
"Father, the whole concept of the owline dating is to rebuild and improve relationships."
"Funny, I thought the objective was to find your perfect match through anonymity. It's genius actually, being able to be openly deceptive about who you are," Lucius stated as he flicked his wand to remove the purple sprouting broccoli from the bed of his poached egg. He would have a word with Booky, the house-elf chef, later. "However, as the Head of Magical Cultural Affairs, you can control the regulations of any company or companies that spring up."
Draco paused in awareness. He had been so engrossed in Granger that he had failed to combat her Gryffindor perspective with a Slytherin one. It took only one month of conversing for him to lose himself. The realization frightened him.
A Southern White-faced Ministry Owl swooped down to their table and quickly snacked on a piece of purple sprouting broccoli before delivering the letter in her talons to Draco's lap. "Is that one of the owline messenger owls?" Narcissa asked her son.
"Yes Mother," Draco answered, apprehensive of the line of questioning soon to follow.
"Why did you not purchase Eagle Owls, Son? They are the far superior messengers. Further proof lies on the plate of half eaten purple sprouting broccoli. Such poor taste in a bird." Lucius sneered condescendingly.
"We had to mass order, Father, and a messenger owl company in Uganda was the only place that could fill my order promptly."
"Have you been corresponding with an eligible witch, Draco?" Narcissa inquired, her curiosity peaked. "I didn't realize you were looking." She took a sip of a beverage Draco could not identify. "Do you need a private moment to read your letter?"
"No, Mother, it's nothing."
"If it is nothing, then you may read it aloud to us," Lucius challenged.
"I do not know the contents, nor the sender. It may have words ill-suited for a family brunch." Although Draco had learned to lie convincingly at an early age, his mother always saw through it. Narcissa eyed him suspiciously. She had tried to match her son through the pure-blood traditional ways. He refused her every attempt. She was intrigued by what kind of witch could attract her precious son.
Lucius chuckled, misunderstanding the situation. "I had not considered the promiscuity anonymity permitted as well, since I am happily married." He put his hand on his wife's. "Perhaps you should filter letters so such atrocious behavior cannot be allowed."
Draco spoke without thought. "No need, Father, Granger craftily charmed all owline dating parchments." He ceased speaking immediately, quickly glancing at his parents before finding interest in his scrambled eggs and in an attempt to cover his behavior, redirected the conversation. "The revenue from the –"
"Draco, did you say Granger? The Mudblood tortured in our Manor, Granger?' Although cautious against airing his prejudice in public, war did little to change his father's ideology.
"She is Undersecretary to the Head of MLE, Father. It is nearly impossible to not have to work with her in some aspect. Besides, with the changes in public opinion, I think it wise to be on diplomatic terms with the only competent third of the Golden Trio. I have ambitious plans, as you know. She might be useful in the future." He wondered if his father could sift through his lies.
"I see… Well, continue the contact but keep your distance. Public opinion is fickle." Lucius commanded his son and accepted Draco's nod in response.
Narcissa observed in quiet reflection. As much as she loved Lucius, Draco was her pride and joy. She saw the minute change in his eyes and heard the slight decibel shift in his voice as he talked about her. But she had learned, in the hardest way possible, that anything other than knowing he was safe and alive was a luxury. As tempted as she was to uncover the truth between her son and the Muggle-born, she reminded herself that she was gifted with a healthy, live child—a gift so many of her former friends could not boast of having. She would wait before uncovering the whole truth, for now. She allowed the conversation to ebb and flow without her, basking in the sun that warmed her gardens while her wizards' discussions warmed her heart.
Two hours later, Draco apparated home, all too impatient to tear open the letter. It read,
Dear Daniel,
I enjoyed our date last night. Tell me what you look like. I am a 19-year-old witch that is great at divination. I have a fit body and pretty face too. I can read your future some time, if you like.
OM,
Yancy
A deluge of disappointment could not aptly describe his emotional state. He sunk on a plush office chair as an insecurity snuck into his thoughts. Did he not see Ron kiss her cheek as they left work on Friday? As a peck on the cheek, he had thought nothing of it until now. Perhaps his connection in the MLE was not so trustworthy.
