A/N: This is the first in a series of scenes written from Draco's POV that run parallel to my novel length fic Harry Potter and the Sect of the Serpent.

I wrote these scenes to try to get a better handle on who Draco Malfoy is (in my incarnation of him) and to try to better figure out his motivation. It is an exercise in characterization, and I found it extremely helpful. If you read it and have anything constructive to say, please do -- especially if you are someone who writes (or reads) from Draco's POV on a regular basis.

There will be more scenes from Draco to come... Thanks for reading!

Draco Malfoy stood sulking near the cloak check room in the elaborately decorated baroque ballroom on the top floor of the Ministry of Magic. This was not how he had pictured his first Ministry function. He had been eager for the chance to attend the function with his father, imagining himself being introduced to all manner of important wizards and witches that his father knew, making small talk with Ministry officials, and generally impressing everyone he met and doing his father proud. He had pictured it in his mind as almost a kind of elaborate coming out ceremony for himself, paving the way for his introduction into politics and power through his family's good name.

He had not, however, pictured the look of utter disgust on his father's face when he had learned that the function was a "family" affair and that wives and even children were invited to attend. Draco hadn't counted on not being the only young protégé to appear in the ballroom on a father's cloak tails, and the disappointment of realizing that his father had not only not wanted to include him, but therefore had no intention of introducing him to anyone had, in fact sent Draco off into a darkened corner, no longer willing to silently trail his parents around the room like a trained pet.

A waiter passed his corner with a tray of cocktails, and Draco snatched one, daring the boy -- barely older than himself -- to say anything about it with a vicious glare. The waiter obviously decided it wasn't worth the effort, and passed without a word. Grinning, Draco took a huge gulp of the drink and nearly choked. He felt the hot burning sensation of Firewhiskey sliding down his throat and tried to cough with dignity.

The room was filled with all manner of witches and wizards in dress robes dragging their immaculately scrubbed and pressed and curled children along behind them. Draco recognized a few of the sprogs as students at Hogwarts, but there were none he wanted to associate with. He realized, as he swallowed the rest of his drink, that it was far more dangerous for him to be off on his own than trailing around with his parents listening to their small talk. One wrong move, one misstep, one word to the wrong sort of person, and he might embarrass his father. Draco swallowed hard, willing himself not to cough again. This party was important for his father to reestablish his reputation as a Ministry insider after the debacle at the beginning of the summer. Draco knew that his father was showing supreme confidence in his associations with the Minister and other officials by even showing his face here tonight. Embarrassing his father was simply not to be done, a lesson Draco had learned as a very small child.

So, instead, he stayed by himself, not willing to risk the ignominy of speaking to the wrong person, and watched the swirling mass of people filling the ballroom. A nasal laugh caught his attention, and he caught a glimpse of a bright red head following the Minister from one group of people to another. Malfoy ground his teeth. How blood traitors like Percy Weasley could be given such high ranking positions was beyond him. He wondered if his father's trust in Minister Fudge wasn't slightly misplaced, but he dismissed the thought as quickly as it had come. Father knew what he was doing. He always did.

Draco continued scanning the room, keeping a watch out for another passing waiter from whom he might steal another drink, when he saw his father and mother approaching him and straightened himself up. Lucius Malfoy looked positively regal as he strode across the ballroom floor leading his wife Narcissa, one hand in the small of her back, guiding her, the other clamped possessively and firmly on her elbow. Draco surreptitiously dropped his empty glass onto a table behind him and took a few steps forward.

"Draco," Lucius drawled cooly, "what are you doing?" Draco curbed his impulse to hang his head and instead looked his father directly in the eye.

"Nothing, Father," he said firmly. He thought he saw his father's eyes glint dangerously.

"Well come here, there is someone we would like you to meet." Draco's heart missed a beat in excitement as he fell into step behind his parents. They approached a small knot of people laughing genially at joke that a tall man in the center of the group had been telling. He had sandy blonde hair and a friendly face with deep set blue eyes that twinkled with laughter, even when his face was serious. His skin was deeply tanned, and he wore a very expensive set of black dress robes over a black suit with a royal blue shirt and black tie. Draco found his clothes and his manner very odd.

"Ah Lucius!" Minister Fudge said as the Malfoy's approached. "We were just talking about you! Let me introduce you to our guest of honor, Mr. John Griffiths, Special Envoy from the American Warlock Senate. He's representing our ally's interests in the whole unfortunate business with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. John, this is Lucius Malfoy." The tall man held out his hand and smiled broadly, showing off his perfectly straight white teeth. Lucius took the hand and immediately had his arm pumped enthusiastically.

"It's a pleasure, sir, a pleasure!" John said loudly. His accent was distinctly American, with the slightest hint of a southern drawl. "Minister Fudge has been speaking very highly of you." Lucius gave him a coldly indulgent smile.

"The pleasure is all mine, I assure you, Mr. Griffiths."

"John! Call me John, everyone does."

Lucius inclined his head slightly in acquiescence. "My wife, Narcissa," he said, gently tugging the beautiful woman on his arm forward. Mr. Griffiths bowed and kissed her hand. "And our son, Draco," Lucius continued, stepping aside so that, for the first time, Draco could look the other man in the face.

Draco had a moment of panic, wondering if he was meant to shake Mr. Griffiths' hand or bow, or if he would be expected to say anything. He was saved from having to decide when Mr. Griffiths grinned toothily at him and stuck out his hand. Draco shook it. The other man's grip was very firm.

"Pleased to meet you!" Mr. Griffiths bellowed. "You look about the same age as my Gwyn. I should introduce you -- Gwyn!" He turned and shouted over his shoulder. Draco tried to follow his gaze over to a group of women chatting nearby. One young woman disengaged herself from the group and began walking towards them. She was also quite tall and slender, like her father, and like him, her skin was darkly tanned. Her hair was the color of corn silk and shone prettily in the glinting lights of the ballroom. She wore it in a rather old fashioned, but never the less very becoming wave, with curls falling seamlessly over her bare shoulders. She was wearing a strapless pale pink cocktail dress and impossibly tall high heeled shoes.

Draco was vaguely aware that the adults around him were speaking, but he couldn't have focused on what they were saying if he had tried. He was completely fixated with the girl walking towards them.

"Gwyn, honey, I'd like you to meet Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy and their son, Draco. My daughter, Gwendolyn." Gwendolyn's face began to glow as she smiled warmly at each of them in turn, shaking his mother's hand, allowing her hand to be kissed by his father. When she got to him, she smiled even more brightly and said, "Hello," as she held out her hand. Draco grasped her hand firmly and inclined his head as he bent to kiss it, never taking his eyes off of hers. She seemed surprised by the gesture, probably unused to such refined manners, he thought. The adults were once again talking around them, and Draco realized that he ought to say something. Frantically, he cast about in his mind for a topic.

"It's a nice party," Gwendolyn said finally.

"Oh, it's all right I suppose," Draco replied. "I always think the Ministry over does the decorations for these sorts of things." He slipped into the lie with ease, hoping to impress her. She simply said "Mmm..." and nodded vaguely.

"Gwyn's going to be attending Hogwarts while we're here," Mr. Griffiths was saying. "I hear you're on the Board of Governors, Lucius?"

"You seem to be very well informed... John. I am indeed."

"Excellent! I know it's hard on Gwyn leaving all her friends behind, but I told her I'd heard there was no finer school of magic across the pond than Hogwarts."

"You go to Hogwarts, then?" Gwendolyn asked him. Draco gave her a haughty smile.

"Oh yes, of course."

She smiled back. "Well, then I'll at least recognize one friendly face when I go."

"Oh indeed! And I'll be happy to introduce you to all the best people there," Draco replied. "All the oldest families are represented at Hogwarts right now." Gwendolyn's smile seemed to falter slightly as a look of confusion passed over her lovely eyes.

"Mrs. Malfoy," Mr. Griffiths was saying, "I don't suppose I could persuade you to do me the honor of a dance?" Draco looked over sharply at his mother who was smiling prettily at the American politician. His father had moved away slightly to speak to Minister Fudge. Draco frowned and she caught his eye. She gave a high shrill little laugh.

"Oh, Mr. Griffiths, you flatter me. But I think that sort of thing ought to be left to the young people!" She glanced significantly over at Draco as the orchestra struck up a new song. Taking his cue, he turned back to Gwendolyn.

"Would you like to dance?" he asked, offering her his hand. Hesitantly, she glanced over at her father, who nodded encouragingly before she accepted his outstretched hand. Draco smiled. He liked obedience in a girl.

He led her out to the dance floor area and placed his other hand on her hip. Her dress was made from a soft chiffon type material and made him shiver slightly to touch it. Draco took a moment to go back in his mind to his dancing lessons with his private tutor before quickly turning her across the floor. She followed gracefully and he was pleased.

As they twirled and spun across the floor, Draco held his head high, proudly. Obviously, his father had chosen to introduce him to Mr. Griffiths because he had known there was a Miss Griffiths. Obviously Lucius had wanted Draco to make a good impression on the young woman and, subsequently, her father. Draco felt quite confident that he was doing just that. He glanced down and tried to catch Gwendolyn's eye, but she was looking resolutely out over his shoulder. Those high heels made her a bit tall. Taller than him actually, by a hair. He'd have to ensure that she didn't wear them again when they were out together...

The dance was over far too quickly for Draco's taste, and unfortunately, the orchestra chose that precise moment to pause to take a break. He and Gwendolyn separated reluctantly to applaud the orchestra.

"Thank you for the dance," he said, bowing to her once again, and once again, never letting his eyes leave hers.

"Thank you," she replied, "you're a very good dancer." Draco gave her his most humbly charming smile.

"Gwyn!" It was Mr. Griffiths' voice. She turned and nodded at her father who was calling her from across the room.

"Well, it was nice meeting you," she said with a small smile. He thought she looked reluctant to go. "I'll see you at school."

"Perhaps we could have another dance when the orchestra comes back," he suggested, taking a step forward to take her hand again. She obviously didn't hear him, because she was already hurrying off to join her father. Definitely an obedient young lady.