Draco, part two
Draco felt an unfamiliar sense of calm and stability as he crossed the threshold into a place he grew to know better than his own home, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. His mind wandered back. Back before the Mark, before Ina. Ina. His wife. His. Compulsively, he put a possessive arm around her shoulders, drawing her closer to him. Despite all of the doubts and technical errors that were running through his mind about her plan, the touch of her body gave him a certain maternal reassurance. She made him feel empowered, as though, for her, he could do anything in the world. Even unseating the greatest, most horrific wizard of all time.
"You went to school here, didn't you?" Ina asked.
"Yeah. Yeah, I almost miss it."
The two walked through the corridors in silence, Draco's arm still holding fast to the one thing he felt was worth the amount of energy and money that went into keeping her there. "What is she thinking right now? Is she thinking about me?" Despite Draco's cool exterior, he felt constant insecurity concerning his wife's fidelity, even in her thoughts.
"Ah, here we are," Draco said as the pair approached the old headmaster.
Albus smiled a warm greeting. "Welcome back to Hogwarts, Mr. Malfoy. And it is a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Malfoy."
Ina gave the old man a friendly smile. "Call me Ina [pronounced EE-na]," she insisted.
Draco's right eye twitched, though otherwise his composure remained steady. His wife was smiling at another man! "He's just an old man, it doesn't mean anything," he kept telling himself, but his jealousy began to flare as his wife slipped from his grip, took the headmaster's arm, and chatted with him congenialy about pleasantries that neither party truly cared about. Draco stood for a moment, stunned at his wife friendliness to a man she hated, enraged that she had left him standing in the hallway. With a sneer, Draco scuffed his feet behind the lividly conversational pair, his hand thrust deep into his pockets, and began to think of how he would avenge this dire action.
Draco felt an unfamiliar sense of calm and stability as he crossed the threshold into a place he grew to know better than his own home, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. His mind wandered back. Back before the Mark, before Ina. Ina. His wife. His. Compulsively, he put a possessive arm around her shoulders, drawing her closer to him. Despite all of the doubts and technical errors that were running through his mind about her plan, the touch of her body gave him a certain maternal reassurance. She made him feel empowered, as though, for her, he could do anything in the world. Even unseating the greatest, most horrific wizard of all time.
"You went to school here, didn't you?" Ina asked.
"Yeah. Yeah, I almost miss it."
The two walked through the corridors in silence, Draco's arm still holding fast to the one thing he felt was worth the amount of energy and money that went into keeping her there. "What is she thinking right now? Is she thinking about me?" Despite Draco's cool exterior, he felt constant insecurity concerning his wife's fidelity, even in her thoughts.
"Ah, here we are," Draco said as the pair approached the old headmaster.
Albus smiled a warm greeting. "Welcome back to Hogwarts, Mr. Malfoy. And it is a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Malfoy."
Ina gave the old man a friendly smile. "Call me Ina [pronounced EE-na]," she insisted.
Draco's right eye twitched, though otherwise his composure remained steady. His wife was smiling at another man! "He's just an old man, it doesn't mean anything," he kept telling himself, but his jealousy began to flare as his wife slipped from his grip, took the headmaster's arm, and chatted with him congenialy about pleasantries that neither party truly cared about. Draco stood for a moment, stunned at his wife friendliness to a man she hated, enraged that she had left him standing in the hallway. With a sneer, Draco scuffed his feet behind the lividly conversational pair, his hand thrust deep into his pockets, and began to think of how he would avenge this dire action.