Chapter 3: A Doubtful Alliance

Draco stood like a statue at the window looking out at the darkened grounds of the large manor, and if he heard Damara enter the room, he gave no indication of it. She stood in the doorway, hand still on the door handle, trying to keep her anger in check. She was too tired to want to deal with him right now.

Finally, the blond boy nonchalantly looked over his shoulder at her.

"Nice view you have," he remarked.

"What are you doing here?" Damara demanded. "This is my room, and I want you out of it now."

"Hasty. Hasty. You are not being a good hostess, Pucey," Draco snickered as he turned to face her.

Damara crossed her arms over her chest. "My mother is the hostess, not me. Now I want you out of here before I scream."

"Why do you hate me so much?" Draco inquired.

"What?"

"Why do you hate me?" he repeated slightly slower.

"I will tell you why, Draco Malfoy," Damara snapped. "Because I am tired and wish to lie down, but you are being a pompous, irritating... Argh! Leave right this minute!"

Draco ignored the frustrated shout as he spied something beside the dresser. He picked up a sleek broomstick and turned it over in his hands. "Nice Firebolt. When did you get it?"

"Draco… please. Just go away." But the blond boy was ignoring her as he studied the broomstick. Damara gave an exasperated sigh and finally gave in. "Father bought it for me about a month ago."

"Hm," Draco responded. "I've had mine for almost a year now. Shame last year's Quidditch was canceled, eh? The Triwizard Tournament wasn't that exciting, anyway, without a Syltherin champion to compete."

Damara's eyes narrowed slightly. "I found the tournament thrilling enough until the last challenge, and it was terrible... what happened to Cedric."

"You sound like a sniveling Hufflepuff," Draco chortled. He set the Firebolt aside. "Why are you in Syltherin anyhow? You certainly do not seem the type to me. You're a book worm, goodie goodie, and you never seem to remember the oath of our House. I bet you don't even know the meaning of Syltherin Solidarity."

"My family has always been in Slytherin," Damara stated matter-of-factly. "Perhaps it is because we are purebloods, or we are ambitious, or we have quick tempers—I do not know which. I do know that the Sorting Hat placed me there, so there is where I'm supposed to be."

"Could the stupid old hat be wrong? I doubt it has a perfect record over hundreds of years and millions of students."

"I have never heard of a student being sorted wrong."

"Curious because I, for one, never thought a cripple could ever become a Slytherin." Draco stepped closer as Damara's jaw clenched. "You are always wearing ankle length skirts. Can I have a look see at your bum leg?"

"Absolutely not. That is indecent, Malfoy," Damara almost growled in indignant anger. "Not to mention rude."

Draco seemed slightly disappointed. "Well, disability or no, I believe you should wear the exact same uniform as everyone else."

The boy was speaking of Damara's special exception to the dress code. The uniform at Hogwarts was a white blouse, House tie, gray blazer, and—for boys—gray slacks and—for girls—gray knee length skirts. Over the uniform was to be worn their black school robes. Damara was allowed to wear an ankle-length gray skirt to hide the braced leg. She found the exemption to the rule quite relieving, preferring not to let anyone see. Only a few Slytherins of her class knew of her disability, and absolutely no one outside Slytherin, beside teachers, knew of it.

"Think as you will, Draco, my uniform was approved by Headmaster Dumbledore. Now will you please leave me alone?"

Damara's leg was beginning to shake again, which was a hint for her to sit down. However, with Draco occupying her room, she was not about to sit on the bed. That would be quite awkward.

"Oh, alright."

Draco crossed the room and passed Damara. She moved to the edge bed and slowly sat down, the pressure on her leg vanishing immediately. The boy halted at the door and turned around, eyes flashing mischievously.

"You know why my parents brought me along tonight?"

"No, and I really don't care."

"I will tell you anyway, Pucey," Draco replied with a sly smile. "My father wants to unite your family and our family. A Malfoy-Pucey alliance would be the greatest wizarding line ever. Not that I care any, but I thought you might be interested."

"You're lying," Damara snapped.

Draco just smiled. "Good night, Damara."