Chapter 2: Dying of Boredom
Evening came quicker than Damara expected, and she left the gardens reluctantly as the sky took on the serene hues of sunset. She returned to her room to freshen up and was barely finished brushing her hair when a knock on her door interrupted her thoughts. Ginger appeared.
"Your parents are requesting your presence downstairs, Miss Damara. Master Adrian and the other guests are due to arrive shortly."
"Thank you, Ginger. I will be right down."
Ginger nodded and left quietly. Some time later, Damara was downstairs in the parlor waiting with her mother and father. Her parents were dressed in nice, formal wear, though not overly nice. Her father, Brent Pucey, was clothed in a pressed black suit while her mother, Celeste Pucey, was dressed in a shimmering violet gown. Damara herself was wearing a crisp white blouse and a dark blue skirt.
Just as she thought about asking her mother to renew the silencing charm on her leg brace, there was a knock at the front door. It was followed by the melodic ring of the doorbell, and the somber-faced butler went to answer it. Moments later Lucius Malfoy, his wife, and his son were escorted into the parlor. The Puceys stood respectfully as Mr. Pucey greeted the guests and introduced his family.
"This is my wife, Celeste," he presented. "This is my daughter, Damara."
Damara took the cue and moved forward, stretching out her hand. "A pleasure to meet you, Mister Malfoy."
Lucius Malfoy, a tall, imposing figure in black, took her hand lightly and raised it to his lips. His eyes seemed to pierce into Damara's, dark and cold like an endless pit. "The pleasure," he drawled in a cold, whisper of a voice, "is all mine."
The tone of his voice gave Damara had the impression of a line so well-rehearsed that it had lost all of its original meaning. Then he straightened, released her hand, and Damara moved back to her mother's side.
Mister Malfoy continued: "You must know family, Brent. My wife, Narcissa, and my son, Draco."
Draco had grown taller over the summer, Damara noticed as the boy shook hands with her father. His blond hair was sleeked back in a similar style to Mr. Malfoy's, and his nice clothes were black as well. His cheek twitched as he glanced in Damara's direction. She did not understand the meaning behind his glance. Was it a smirk? A nervous twitch? She was relieved when the butler led in the last guest.
Adrian Pucey was tall, well built, and handsome with his quick smile. His tawny hair had a reddish sheen to it in the soft light. He greeted the Malfoys with proper respect and dignity before turning to greet his own family. He and Mr. Pucey shook hands, and Mrs. Pucey gave him a quick hug. He stepped next to Damara and smiled down at her.
"Good evening, Mara," he greeted as he took her hand and repeated the gesture Mr. Malfoy had done prior to his arrival. Only his gesture was filled with playful sincerity. "It has been awhile, eh? My, you are prettier now than at Christmas, I tell you. You better watch yourself at Hogwarts this term or you will have all of the Slytherin chaps falling off their broomsticks for you."
The twinkle in his eyes told Damara he was teasing her, but he was also teasing Draco, who shifted uneasily by his father's side. Damara laughed politely but did not reply as a maidservant appeared at the parlor entrance.
"Dinner is served," she spoke with a bow and vanished.
"Shall we eat?" Mr. Pucey asked.
He led the way to the grand dining room, talking with Mr. Malfoy and Adrian. Mrs. Malfoy and Mrs. Pucey, who apparently attended the same spa in Wales, followed them. Damara was left in the rear with Draco. Neither looked at each other as they quietly followed the adults down the hall.
Once in the dining room, the servants helped the guests into their seats, and Draco was seated next to Damara at the farthest end of the table so that the adults could hold conversations without interruption. The servants, dressed in parched white uniforms, prompty brought the first course and they began to eat.
It was not until the second course when the heavy silence between them spurred Damara to attempt a conversation with Draco.
"Have you practiced Quidditch over the summer holidays?" she asked as casually as she could manage.
"A little. Father has kept me busy learning his business," Draco spoke indifferently.
"Oh."
Damara had no intention of inquiring after the nature of the Malfoy's family business, as she was certain it was something dark and sinister. She gazed down at her green beans and corn, but she had no appetite.
Draco shifted nervously and glanced at her. He seemed to be struggling with something and then finally muttered a half-hearted, "What about you?"
"I have been practicing quite a bit, actually," Damara replied. "Perhaps I will make the actual team this year and not the reserves. There is an open Chaser position."
"Hmmm. Yes," the blond boy drawled hesitantly. There was a long, unease pause between the two of them. Then, finally, Draco leaned forward and whispered menacingly: "Look, Pucey. The only thing we have in common is that we both come from old wizarding families and we both are in Slytherin. I don't want this little dining party known around school."
"Don't worry, Malfoy," Damara responded in the same, harsh tone Draco had used. "I don't wish for this to be known either."
"Good. Now that that's settled, I can eat in peace."
The rest of the dinner went by slowly. Finally the adults stood up. Damara's father, Adrian, and Mr. Malfoy adjourned to the study to discuss "business matters." (Damara was curious what matters would be discussed, as she saw that all three men, underneath their friendly exteriors, seemed rather tense.) Mrs. Pucey and Mrs. Malfoy went to the parlor for a cup of tea, and Draco and Damara were left in the dining room alone as the servants began to clear away the dishes.
"Do you not have house elves?" Draco sneered.
"Of course we do. Maggie is our cook, and we have a few others that help around the manor," Damara stated firmly.
It was quite rude in polite society for someone to imply an old wizarding family did not have house elves—it was bordering on an insult—but as it came from Draco Malfoy, Damara was not overly concerned.
"Ah, so these servants must be squibs. Father has employed one or two." Draco glanced at Damara. "Is there anything to do here? I'm dying of boredom."
"There is plenty. You can try the library for a good book or chess…"
"I am not a stiff, Pucey," Draco interrupted derisively. "I meant something lively and fun. Only bores such as yourself would find pleasure in those activities. After all, with a bum leg you can't do much else, can you?"
Damara stood up in a fit a rage, slamming her fists on the table and startling the servants. Her eyes blazed with anger, but her braced leg seemed to buckle under the sudden movement.
"I will not be insulted in such a manner in my own house, Draco Malfoy. You—"
"Ah, watch what you say, or I might, just might, convince my father to drop your father like a rock," Draco retorted. He gave her a cold grin and lifted his wand. "Besides, I came prepared."
"So did I," Damara said shortly through clenched teeth.
She pulled her own wand from her belt, and the two stood pointing their wands at each other. Draco remained calmly seated, while Damara's weaker leg seemed to shake uncontrollably. Their eyes were locked in a contest of glaring, and neither one was inclined to back down. Though she stubbornly refused to give in, Damara knew her leg would not hold out forever, and it was inevitable that she would have to break eye contact and sit or risk collapsing. This battle of the wills was lost long before it was even begun... and Draco, as always, would be the victor. How she loathed him!
Her leg trembled dangerously beneath her, and just as she was going to swallow her pride and admit defeat, a small figure jumped on to the table between them.
"That is enough! Master Malfoy, you leave my mistress alone or you will pay for your insolence. Students are not allowed to do magic away from school, but we elves can do magic whenever we feel like it," the small house elf named Maggie warned.
Her tone was menacing, and her finger was lifted in warning at the boy's face. Draco relented, knowing how strong elf magic was, and his wand quickly disappeared into his robe.
Maggie nodded curtly. "Good. Now go outside or something, you troublemaker."
Without a word, Draco pushed his chair away and stalked from the room. Maggie turned to Damara just as the girl collapsed back into her own chair.
"Now what was that all about, Mistress Damara?"
"Oh, nothing really. Draco was being his usual, arrogant self. That is all."
The house elf made a "humph" sound and disappeared, most likely back to the kitchens. Damara stood, straightened her dress, and decided to go upstairs to her room. The little exchange had worn her out. She climbed the back stairs wearily, her left leg aching slightly. Pushing open the door to her room, she nearly stumbled at what she found.
Draco standing by the window, a hand holding back the draperies so he could look out into the darkness.