I awoke the next morning later than usual, having become accustomed to an
interrupted sleep. Sunlight fell through my window onto my bed, causing me
to think on Draco's palely golden hair. Pushing such thoughts from my mind,
I hurriedly dressed and made my way to the dining room for breakfast.
"Good morning, Mister Potter," Lucius said, already seated with his breakfast. Narcissa nodded to me.
"Good morning, Mister Malfoy. Good morning, Mistress Malfoy," I replied.
I sat down and asked the nearby house slave to bring me griddle cakes and a cup of coffee. As I began to eat, Draco walked into the room, still yawning. He nodded greeting to his parents and myself and sat down, across from me, to the meal awaiting him.
I tried not to notice how delicately Draco consumed his breakfast. The silence of the dining room felt stifling. I finished breakfast as quickly as could be polite, excused myself, and walked back up to my room. There, I assembled my lessons, regretting having brought along books better suited to a young boy. Deliberately, taking even breaths, I braced myself for the day's lessons and walked into Draco's bedchamber.
The chamber was luxurious, with an opulence that reminded me of my cousin Dudley's bedroom. Concerning aesthetics, Draco seemed considerably more suited to this sort of lavishness as he reclined on an overstuffed chair facing a desk.
"You expected a small boy, Mister Potter, did you not?" he questioned languidly.
"The tone of your father in his correspondence with me implied a student of younger age, yes. As such, I am afraid my lessons are intended for someone of lesser years than yourself," I replied shakily.
"Well, lessons matter little to me, at any rate. I already know my mathematics, Greek and history. My father only desired that I have a tutor so that I would not spend my emptier hours indulging in eccentricities," Draco said.
My voice grew more unsteady. "What eccentricities may those be, Draco?" I asked.
"Oh, you shall have plenty of time to learn about me," Draco replied. "But I would like very much to learn a little more about you."
"About me?" I inquired in disbelief.
"Who else is in the room, Mister Potter? Now, if you would be so polite as to sit down, we may begin," Draco replied.
I sat in the chair opposite Draco.
"So, Mister Potter. What and with whom are your origins?" Draco began.
"My parents were killed in an accident when I was a small infant. I was somehow spared, left only with this scar," I replied, indicating the lightning-bolt-shaped scar on my forehead. "I was left to the care of my mother's sister, Petunia Dursley, and her husband, Vernon, in the town of New Surry, in Delaware. They doted on their only child, Dudley, but treated me poorly. My godfather, Sirius Black, who had been close friends with my father, provided me with a safe haven and an education in his library. After I could be deemed proficient in my studies, I sought out a tutoring position, and came here," I responded.
"Satisfactory. Are you or do you intend upon becoming romantically entangled with any young ladies?" Draco continued innocently.
"Oh, no, I am not, nor do I believe I shall be," I admitted with hesitation.
"And why ever not, Mr. Potter? Unless something I have been uninformed of lurks beneath your appearance, you seem to be handsome, intelligent, and even-tempered enough to already be happily wed," he said, averting his eyes from mine.
"I, I have yet to be acquainted with a young lady whom I would wish to wed," I replied.
"I understand. I am intended for a Miss Parkinson, and I have no desire to marry her," he said.
I wondered at what young lady could have such luck as to soon possess that form. "What is it in Miss Parkinson's disposition that you find such displeasure?" I asked.
"She is empty-headed, simpering, and coy. Her appearance is cheap, hardly worthy of the Malfoy name. I feel ashamed before my very soul whenever I must be near her," Draco replied painfully.
"And who would you rather be intended for?" I inquired.
"I, I have yet to meet a young lady I would gladly be intended for," he replied.
The conversation stayed suspended in the air for a few silent minutes. Draco gazed out the window upon the budding rose bushes surrounding the house. I allowed myself the luxury of looking upon him, feeling my hands shake as I did so.
"Of course, you shall meet Miss Parkinson yourself, next week," Draco mentioned suddenly.
"Why is that?" I asked in confusion.
"She will be coming out next Saturday evening, at the Parkinson Manor near Durmstrang. My father will no doubt want to bring you along to keep me in line, as he trusts Snape to watch over the manor on his own," he replied.
"Who else will be in attendance?" I asked.
"Oh, no one of great interest. The Crabbes, the Bulstrodes, the Goyles, all of whom have sons and a daughter my age whom I find loathsome. They are well-suited to the likes of Miss Parkinson," he replied.
"It is a shame that there are none that would match the caliber of the Malfoy name," I mentioned with sarcasm. Draco did not seem to notice.
"Oh, I nearly forgot. Mister Voldemort was also invited. He is the congressman for this area and owns a incredible expanse of land and hundreds of slaves. He and Father are close friends," he said nonchalantly.
I could now not decide whether I disliked Draco or not. His choice of words betrayed a rather blasé arrogance. Yet there was something very trapped, pleading within him.
Draco brought out a chess board complete with imported pieces. We played chess until the bell rang for lunch.
At the bell's sounding, Draco cleared the chess board and put it away. The room became as it had been.
"Well, Master Draco, you are an excellent chess player," I admitted, he having won the majority of the games.
"And you are a poor one, Mister Potter," he replied, smiling.
"I am a better player at baseball. When I was in school, I played the sport constantly," I responded.
"By contrast, I am terrible at any endeavor requiring one to be more than minimally masculine," Draco said. He closed his eyes as though stricken with a headache or some other personal suffering.
"Ah, let us go down then..." I said.
"Go...down?" Draco inquired. I swallowed hard and suppressed my blush.
"To lunch," I replied naturally.
"Yes, down to lunch. Of course," he said, his pale skin slightly flushed.
Draco exited the room first, and I followed, watching the form of his backside through his light green trousers.
We sat down at the formidable dining table where Lucius and Narcissa were already seated. The ubiquitous house slave served us our meal. After a few bites, I settled upon a decisive dislike of the cooking of the deep South but continued eating for the sake of politeness.
"Mister Potter, how went this morning's lesson?" Lucius asked between mouthfuls of fried chicken.
"Oh, very well, Mister Malfoy. Your son has an apt and willing mind for knowledge. I intend upon a lesson in Greek history and language tomorrow, and I am confident in his willingness and performance to such," I replied, realizing my innuendoes too late. Lucius seemed neither to notice this, nor his son laughing softly and blushing.
"So our Draco had proven so far to be a.normal pupil for you?" Narcissa asked.
"Oh, yes. Completely normal from what I can tell. Nothing I would classify as unusual, Mrs. Malfoy," I replied.
Narcissa and Lucius nodded their approval. Draco raised his eyebrows at me. I looked away and concentrated on my plate. Several minutes of silence passed.
"Miss Parkinson will be coming out next Saturday, Mister Potter," Lucius commented.
"Ah, yes, Draco informed me of the event this morning. Her parents must be considerably proud of her," I responded.
"They would be rightfully. Pansy is a well-mannered and lovely young lady. We wait eagerly for her and Draco to become officially engaged," Narcissa said.
"If she is indeed as alluring as you say, then any alliance between her family and yours is sure to be a happy one," I replied courteously.
"Well, Mister Potter, you shall meet her yourself at her coming out ball. The high society of Durmstrang is always delighted to meet someone associated with the Malfoy name. You shall come along with us," Lucius said.
I nodded my consent. All was again silent. When the slave took away my plate, I retired to my room for the afternoon.
"Good morning, Mister Potter," Lucius said, already seated with his breakfast. Narcissa nodded to me.
"Good morning, Mister Malfoy. Good morning, Mistress Malfoy," I replied.
I sat down and asked the nearby house slave to bring me griddle cakes and a cup of coffee. As I began to eat, Draco walked into the room, still yawning. He nodded greeting to his parents and myself and sat down, across from me, to the meal awaiting him.
I tried not to notice how delicately Draco consumed his breakfast. The silence of the dining room felt stifling. I finished breakfast as quickly as could be polite, excused myself, and walked back up to my room. There, I assembled my lessons, regretting having brought along books better suited to a young boy. Deliberately, taking even breaths, I braced myself for the day's lessons and walked into Draco's bedchamber.
The chamber was luxurious, with an opulence that reminded me of my cousin Dudley's bedroom. Concerning aesthetics, Draco seemed considerably more suited to this sort of lavishness as he reclined on an overstuffed chair facing a desk.
"You expected a small boy, Mister Potter, did you not?" he questioned languidly.
"The tone of your father in his correspondence with me implied a student of younger age, yes. As such, I am afraid my lessons are intended for someone of lesser years than yourself," I replied shakily.
"Well, lessons matter little to me, at any rate. I already know my mathematics, Greek and history. My father only desired that I have a tutor so that I would not spend my emptier hours indulging in eccentricities," Draco said.
My voice grew more unsteady. "What eccentricities may those be, Draco?" I asked.
"Oh, you shall have plenty of time to learn about me," Draco replied. "But I would like very much to learn a little more about you."
"About me?" I inquired in disbelief.
"Who else is in the room, Mister Potter? Now, if you would be so polite as to sit down, we may begin," Draco replied.
I sat in the chair opposite Draco.
"So, Mister Potter. What and with whom are your origins?" Draco began.
"My parents were killed in an accident when I was a small infant. I was somehow spared, left only with this scar," I replied, indicating the lightning-bolt-shaped scar on my forehead. "I was left to the care of my mother's sister, Petunia Dursley, and her husband, Vernon, in the town of New Surry, in Delaware. They doted on their only child, Dudley, but treated me poorly. My godfather, Sirius Black, who had been close friends with my father, provided me with a safe haven and an education in his library. After I could be deemed proficient in my studies, I sought out a tutoring position, and came here," I responded.
"Satisfactory. Are you or do you intend upon becoming romantically entangled with any young ladies?" Draco continued innocently.
"Oh, no, I am not, nor do I believe I shall be," I admitted with hesitation.
"And why ever not, Mr. Potter? Unless something I have been uninformed of lurks beneath your appearance, you seem to be handsome, intelligent, and even-tempered enough to already be happily wed," he said, averting his eyes from mine.
"I, I have yet to be acquainted with a young lady whom I would wish to wed," I replied.
"I understand. I am intended for a Miss Parkinson, and I have no desire to marry her," he said.
I wondered at what young lady could have such luck as to soon possess that form. "What is it in Miss Parkinson's disposition that you find such displeasure?" I asked.
"She is empty-headed, simpering, and coy. Her appearance is cheap, hardly worthy of the Malfoy name. I feel ashamed before my very soul whenever I must be near her," Draco replied painfully.
"And who would you rather be intended for?" I inquired.
"I, I have yet to meet a young lady I would gladly be intended for," he replied.
The conversation stayed suspended in the air for a few silent minutes. Draco gazed out the window upon the budding rose bushes surrounding the house. I allowed myself the luxury of looking upon him, feeling my hands shake as I did so.
"Of course, you shall meet Miss Parkinson yourself, next week," Draco mentioned suddenly.
"Why is that?" I asked in confusion.
"She will be coming out next Saturday evening, at the Parkinson Manor near Durmstrang. My father will no doubt want to bring you along to keep me in line, as he trusts Snape to watch over the manor on his own," he replied.
"Who else will be in attendance?" I asked.
"Oh, no one of great interest. The Crabbes, the Bulstrodes, the Goyles, all of whom have sons and a daughter my age whom I find loathsome. They are well-suited to the likes of Miss Parkinson," he replied.
"It is a shame that there are none that would match the caliber of the Malfoy name," I mentioned with sarcasm. Draco did not seem to notice.
"Oh, I nearly forgot. Mister Voldemort was also invited. He is the congressman for this area and owns a incredible expanse of land and hundreds of slaves. He and Father are close friends," he said nonchalantly.
I could now not decide whether I disliked Draco or not. His choice of words betrayed a rather blasé arrogance. Yet there was something very trapped, pleading within him.
Draco brought out a chess board complete with imported pieces. We played chess until the bell rang for lunch.
At the bell's sounding, Draco cleared the chess board and put it away. The room became as it had been.
"Well, Master Draco, you are an excellent chess player," I admitted, he having won the majority of the games.
"And you are a poor one, Mister Potter," he replied, smiling.
"I am a better player at baseball. When I was in school, I played the sport constantly," I responded.
"By contrast, I am terrible at any endeavor requiring one to be more than minimally masculine," Draco said. He closed his eyes as though stricken with a headache or some other personal suffering.
"Ah, let us go down then..." I said.
"Go...down?" Draco inquired. I swallowed hard and suppressed my blush.
"To lunch," I replied naturally.
"Yes, down to lunch. Of course," he said, his pale skin slightly flushed.
Draco exited the room first, and I followed, watching the form of his backside through his light green trousers.
We sat down at the formidable dining table where Lucius and Narcissa were already seated. The ubiquitous house slave served us our meal. After a few bites, I settled upon a decisive dislike of the cooking of the deep South but continued eating for the sake of politeness.
"Mister Potter, how went this morning's lesson?" Lucius asked between mouthfuls of fried chicken.
"Oh, very well, Mister Malfoy. Your son has an apt and willing mind for knowledge. I intend upon a lesson in Greek history and language tomorrow, and I am confident in his willingness and performance to such," I replied, realizing my innuendoes too late. Lucius seemed neither to notice this, nor his son laughing softly and blushing.
"So our Draco had proven so far to be a.normal pupil for you?" Narcissa asked.
"Oh, yes. Completely normal from what I can tell. Nothing I would classify as unusual, Mrs. Malfoy," I replied.
Narcissa and Lucius nodded their approval. Draco raised his eyebrows at me. I looked away and concentrated on my plate. Several minutes of silence passed.
"Miss Parkinson will be coming out next Saturday, Mister Potter," Lucius commented.
"Ah, yes, Draco informed me of the event this morning. Her parents must be considerably proud of her," I responded.
"They would be rightfully. Pansy is a well-mannered and lovely young lady. We wait eagerly for her and Draco to become officially engaged," Narcissa said.
"If she is indeed as alluring as you say, then any alliance between her family and yours is sure to be a happy one," I replied courteously.
"Well, Mister Potter, you shall meet her yourself at her coming out ball. The high society of Durmstrang is always delighted to meet someone associated with the Malfoy name. You shall come along with us," Lucius said.
I nodded my consent. All was again silent. When the slave took away my plate, I retired to my room for the afternoon.