Book Club: Red Rising

Prompt:

(colour) gold

Word Count: 1194

After he was released from Azkaban, Draco realised he didn't want to return to Malfoy Manor, a place that had brought him nothing but trouble. He explained his reasonings to Narcissa, who understood and supported him wholeheartedly.

Draco began looking for a flat in London to be close to Diagon Alley, where he owned an apothecary. Of course, he couldn't shift into a small flat—he was a Malfoy—so he bought one of the finer penthouses in Mayfair.

As he didn't have any experience in interior design, he decided to ask his mother for help. Narcissa was overjoyed at the opportunity to do something new, and she began her work immediately.

By the time Draco moved into his new flat, it was ready.

Narcissa had used Slytherin colours as a theme, and Draco was amazed to see how comfortable his house looked. In the living room, dark-green sofas were positioned near the fireplace, and a metallic-silver table stood on the large green wool carpet. Tall mahogany bookshelves, filled to the brim with books, stood against the left wall. Directly across from them were beautiful grey vases that were potted with lush green plants. The silk curtains were white and green, allowing the sunlight to stream in through the windows.

When Draco entered the bedroom, he gasped. It resembled his childhood bedroom, but there was one huge difference. The walls weren't painted dark-green; these walls were painted off-white. The bed in the middle of the room was large and spacious, its green duvet perfectly folded. A large silver-hued ornate mirror stood next to the ceiling-high cupboard, its glass spotless as ever.

"Wow… this is wonderful!" Draco admitted, swivelling around to face Narcissa. "Thank you, Mother. I love what you've done to the place."

"It was my pleasure, darling," Narcissa said, sounding proud of herself. "In fact, I think the Manor requires some redecorating, too. I was thinking we could finally get rid of your grandfather's old cabinet. Merlin, the sight still gives me shivers even after all these years…"

While Narcissa talked about the things she wanted to get rid of, Draco smiled and looked into the bathroom. It had a minimalistic design, as well; everything was dark yet comforting in its green and silver tones.

Draco couldn't imagine changing anything about his house. It was perfect.

Over the next few years, Draco's life began to change for the better. People could see Draco had matured a lot in his time at Azkaban. It showed in his demeanour. Long ago, his overconfidence was seen in the way he used to strut around with his nose in the air, call people names, and threaten them by dropping his father's name. But now, he had developed an air of confidence. He walked through the throngs of people without a sneer on his face, even politely nodding at people he recognised.

Draco did his best to improve his relationships with his friends, and he even managed to apologize to the Golden Trio about his actions. And it was his heartfelt apology that caused Hermione to see him as more than just an old rival.

Soon, he asked her out on a date, which turned into more pleasurable outings. In the course of half a year, Draco was sure he wanted Hermione to move into his flat with him.

At first, Hermione was hesitant, thinking it was too soon. But Draco said, "The only reason I'm not asking you to marry me right now is that I still believe you're going to come to your senses and leave me. Move in with me, and if you change your mind about it, you can easily move out. I won't ask you to give up your flat."

Hermione agreed to his compromise. A few days later, she showed up at Draco's doorstep with her suitcase in hand, and Draco pulled her swiftly into his arms. Dipping her backwards, he slanted his lips over hers and kissed her fiercely. The suitcase lay forgotten near the fireplace as the amorous couple retreated to the bedroom.

After moving in with him, Hermione subtly began hinting at changing a few things. Draco heard her loud and clear; he knew she didn't like the entire flat decorated with Slytherin colours. But he was hesitant. His mother had done her best to make him feel comfortable in the flat, and Draco didn't think the flat needed any refurbishing. He thought it was perfect the way it was.

But he loved Hermione, too, and he wanted her to feel comfortable in their house—because it was theirs and not his anymore. Reluctantly, he told her she could start redecorating. The excitement visible in her eyes worried him, but he remained silent.

He assumed he would come home and find all of his belongings thrown out and the penthouse filled with Gryffindor-themed items—she was a proud Gryffindor, after all. But he was wrong. When Draco entered their flat after a gruelling day of brewing potions, he didn't notice the changes in the living room until he plopped down on the couch.

The green couch his mother had chosen had been replaced by a more comfortable grey sofa with black-and-white striped throw cushions. The metallic-silver table that had been placed beside it was gone! In its place stood a round gold-plated table with a black tabletop. Another white porcelain table stood in between the couch and the fireplace, with three small golden vases and a white centrepiece with a gold rim placed on top. A small white armchair had been added to the mix.

Draco looked around the living room and found more changes in the decor. The grey vases had been replaced with three metallic-gold plant pots which stood on black stands. The large carpet beneath his feet had been replaced with a smaller rectangular green rug with gold edges. Looking up, Draco realised there was a beautiful cream-coloured chandelier hanging overhead.

"So… what do you think?" Hermione asked from the doorway of their bedroom, and Draco turned to look at her.

Truthfully, he didn't know what to say. If he said he loved what she had done to the place, his mother would be disappointed because it would get back to her one way or the other. But if he told Hermione he didn't like her designs, it would break her heart. There was no way he could say anything without looking like the villain to either woman in his life.

Instead, he stood up and strode over to her, his intent written clearly on his face. Hermione's cheeks reddened when he bent down to pick her up. She promptly placed her hands on his shoulders, and he pressed her up against the wall before distracting her with a passionate kiss that made her toes curl.

As he carried her into the bedroom, Draco barely noticed the gold-plated frames on the coffee table beside the bed. He did notice the picture of the two of them laughing on the beach in the frame, and his heart melted at the sight.

Draco swore to himself he would never admit out loud that Hermione's decoration skills were way better than his mother's.