Draco stood in front of his floor-length mirror, appraising his appearance as he tied a Full Windsor. He wore a slim-fit stand-up collar black suit with a matching vest and a dress shirt, and his tie was black silk. He ran his fingers through his hair, smoothing it back, and gave his reflection a satisfied nod.
As he moved to the door, he saw the silver box glinting on his dresser and hesitated only a second before he left his room. The guests had already begun arriving and, the moment he stepped into the drawing room, he was greeted by the sight of Theodore Nott talking to Crabbe and Goyle. He crossed over to them, quickly scanning the room for Grey, but she wasn't there.
"Draco," Theo greeted him. "You're looking sharp."
Draco eyed his friend's dark suit, not nearly as stylish or pressed as his own, and shrugged. Theo didn't share his sense for fashion, but there was nothing wrong with looking good. Draco liked to look good. When he walked into a room, people noticed him. People respected him.
As the usual suspects slowly arrived, the four boys hung off to the side, chatting casually about their Christmas holiday. All but Draco, who barely commented, nervousness mounting as he waited for Grey to make her entrance. Where was she? Why wasn't she there yet? His mother hadn't really uninvited her, had she?
"Are you all right?" Theo asked, yanking him back into the moment. "You're awfully quiet, mate."
Draco inhaled deeply through his nostrils. "Grey is coming," he said tightly.
"Grey?" Theo's confusion immediately gave way to shock. "Amaris Grey?" he blurted just as Draco heard his mother's exuberant voice.
"Amaris!" she cried happily. "You're a vision, darling."
All of the boys looked up, staring at where his parents were standing. His mother held Grey's delicate hands in hers but Mr. Selwyn was blocking the view of his niece.
"Amaris Grey," his father said, smiling. "The last time I saw you, you were only this tall." He motioned to his waist. "But I see Narcissa did not exaggerate your loveliness. You are the mirror image of Seles." He reached out and took her hand. "Welcome to our home."
And as Mr. Selwyn moved to the side, Draco held his breath. Grey wore a red dress that molded to her body, the off-the-shoulder collar once again high enough to hide cleavage, but there were no sleeves this time, leaving her slim wrists bare. The dress cut a harsh line just above her knees, but a slit over her left leg climbed halfway up her thigh. Her blond hair was pinned up, leaving her neck exposed, and Draco immediately swallowed at the sight. Where she had seemingly foregone make-up during the summer, now it was stark and elegant on her face.
"Holy—" Goyle began as Crabbe made an unintelligible sound.
"Merlin's balls," Theo whispered. "Is that…?"
"Yes," he snapped, unable to take his eyes off her. His gaze skimmed down her shapely legs to see that she wore simple red heels that, once again, added four inches to her height.
"What the actual fuck," his friend muttered in shock. "When did she start looking like that?"
Draco didn't answer, only stared. When Grey's blue eyes met his, his entire body tensed, but he held her gaze, refused to even blink until she looked away.
"What the hell is she doing here?" Theo asked.
"Mother is trying to match us."
"Match you?" he echoed dumbly. "Doesn't she know that—"
"No," Draco cut him off.
"You haven't told her?"
"Obviously not."
"And why the bloody hell not?" Theo demanded just as Draco's father turned toward them.
"Draco," he called, waving him over.
"Because I'm not done with her," he answered then immediately crossed the room.
"You remember Mr. Selwyn," his father said, and Mr. Selwyn immediately thrust out his palm. Draco shook his hand.
"Of course," Draco said, putting on the show they expected from him. "Merry Christmas, sir."
"And Amaris, of course," his father continued.
Grey looked at him again.
"Amaris," he said, pretending for their audience that they were closer than they were. When he offered her his hand, she did not keep him waiting like last time. She placed her fingers in his and let him draw her hand up to his lips to kiss her knuckles. He hesitated only a second, breathing in that perfume he liked so much, before he murmured, "Merry Christmas," and lowered her hand.
"Merry Christmas, Draco," she replied evenly.
Draco wished he could see beneath that mask of make-up she was wearing, but her face had become a vault of secrets.
"You look stunning," he said. It was the second time he had said those words to her, and he had meant them both times, but speaking them for an audience sounded false. She smiled and it looked different with her lips painted red and eyes ringed with dark colors—less sweet and more sensual.
"Thank you," she said softly.
He nodded to his mother, who was beaming at them, and drew Grey forward. He placed her hand on his arm and they took slow steps towards Theo, Crabbe, and Goyle while his mother murmured happily to his father and Mr. Selwyn.
Draco glanced down at her, noting her bare wrists, fingers, and neck. She was unadorned, not wearing even a pair of earrings. It was a wizard's job to ornament his witch, a token of his affection. Of course, witches could wear their own jewelry, but for a young, single witch like Grey, her uncle was showing her availability. It reminded him of the summer party and the last time he publicly took her on his arm.
He leaned closer, whispering against her temple. "Have I made this worse for you yet?" he teased.
Her head tilted toward him ever so slightly. "I'm afraid so."
All amusement dropped from his expression and he immediately stopped them in the middle of the room. "You've had offers?" he balked, speaking soft enough that only she could hear.
"Nothing official, but my uncle was sure to mention how other families have made inquiries," she replied.
A beat of uncomfortable silence stretched between them, during which Draco grappled for a response but found only anger. How dare others inquire after her? He, of course, had no real intention of matching with her, but not even his parents knew that! As far as they should be concerned, she was off-limits! Yet she wasn't, clearly, unadorned as she was…
"But if you keep up your performance," she said, the tiniest tilt at the corner of her mouth, "you might be stuck with me."
Draco thought she sounded amused. All of his abrupt ire leaked out of him and he snorted. As he resumed their walk toward his Slytherin friends, he felt Grey's fingers tighten on his arm.
"Nervous, Grey?" he mocked. She didn't answer, her expression grave and her chin tilted up, like she was walking into battle. Perhaps she was.
Draco eyed his friends, whose faces were possessed of anything but aggression. Their clear appreciation of Grey's new look was utterly evident by their round eyes and open mouths and in the tracking of their gazes. Maybe she had been right when she said others might try to make a match first. Before tonight, he would have been sure there was no way that would happen, but that look on Theo's face gave him doubt.
"Grey," Theo said, but Draco noticed it was without its usual bite.
"Theodore," she said, nodding politely. "Gregory. Vincent. Merry Christmas."
Crabbe and Goyle murmured "Merry Christmas" back to her, but Theo was just smirking.
"Should I take your hand and kiss it all proper-like?" he asked, shooting a sly glance at Draco before his eyes roved over her figure. "Or maybe I could kiss you somewhere else…?"
Grey stiffened beside him and Draco felt annoyance bubbling beneath his skin. Crabbe and Goyle were goons, but Theo was just crass. Not even Draco found his humor amusing. Not out of respect for Grey, of course, but because it was vacuous and offended his sense of decorum.
Draco slid his hand along Grey's back and placed it possessively on her hip, drawing her an inch closer. "Don't be a prat, Theo," he muttered, bored.
"Oh, staking your claim are you, Draco?" Theo challenged. "I think we know better than that." He looked pointedly at Grey. "Don't we?"
Grey's face was like stone.
"Can't say I don't see why—shocked as I am to see you all dressed up. You look like a different person," Theo continued, and Draco had to agree. "It suits you. Donno why you insist on looking so grim at school." He grinned. "Though I can't imagine you walking through Hogwarts dressed like that, either."
Draco rolled his eyes at his friend's idiotic sense of humor and was on the verge of telling him to shut up when Goyle spoke first.
"At the Yule Ball," Goyle said, drawing everyone's gaze, "you looked nice."
They all gaped at him as though he had sprouted a second head. It was such a bumbling compliment that it had been embarrassing for everyone present. But Draco found himself focusing on a crucial piece of information: Grey had looked good at the Yule Ball and he hadn't noticed, yet somehow Goyle had and, in a mortifying twist of fate, Draco found himself envious that Goyle had this memory and he did not.
"Thank you," she replied quietly, and the awkwardness of the exchange doubled with the ensuing silence. Until Theo broke it, of course.
"Well, that was unexpected," he declared with a smile. Just then, the dinner bell chimed. He pointed his finger toward the ceiling. "Thank goodness for that, eh?"
Without another word, they went into the dining room where Draco sat Grey in her chair before claiming his across from her. Normally, he would've sat beside his father at the head of the table, across from his mother, but she was clearly angling for something by grouping the teenagers together, and so Draco found himself wedged between Mr. Crabbe and Theo while Grey was between her uncle and Goyle, who seemed to be avoiding physical contact in a way that could almost be considered…shy. Draco grimaced.
After his father announced the feast, the first course appeared on their plates, water filled their glasses, and wine poured into the stemware. The adults did most of the conversing as everyone sipped at their soup. Occasionally a question was posed to one of the children—How are you finding the school year, Theodore? What's your favorite subject, Amaris? Are you finding it difficult to manage your prefect duties with your classwork, Draco? Gregory, you and Vincent are Beaters for Slytherin this year, aren't you? How's the season going?—but otherwise, the five teenagers remained silent. Even Theo, which made Draco suspicious.
During the main course, Draco had loosened up somewhat. As the adults discussed Dumbledore's removal from Hogwarts and the Ministry's amendments to the school's operations, he found himself engaged in Quidditch talk with Crabbe and Goyle. For a moment, he was entirely comfortable with Grey sitting across from him, who so quiet that he almost forgot about her.
"Practicing during the holiday?" Theo balked when Crabbe explained how he had spent his vacation. "Really, don't you have anything better to do than something for school? Didn't anyone do anything fun this past week?" He glanced around the table. "Amaris?"
Draco paused his with fork halfway to his mouth, dread washing over him at the tone in Theo's voice. He looked up just in time to see his friend smirk.
"No? Well, how about all of your friends? I've never seen a muggle Christmas. Do they celebrate like us?"
Silence fell over the table as, one by one, forks and knives stilled over their plates. All but Amaris, who continued to slowly cut into her beef.
"I wouldn't know how muggles celebrate Christmas," she said casually.
"No?" Theo feigned surprise. "Not even with all the Mudblood friends you have?"
The entire table bristled at the word. Every person present had, of course, used it before, but it wasn't appropriate dinner language. Theo might as well have jumped onto the table and shouted, "Merlin's sweaty balls." Not to mention the thundering implication that Amaris was, in fact, a blood traitor.
Draco felt frozen to the spot. Without moving an inch, his eyes found Amaris, who took a small bite of food, seemingly unbothered by the accusation.
"Theodore," she said gently, like a mother scolding a child. "Not all of us are blessed with a talent for brute strength." She began cutting into an asparagus. "My mother used to tell me that you catch more flies with honey, so you must think that anyone I smile for is a friend, but I would bet you one hundred galleons that you have no idea who my enemies are." She stabbed the piece of vegetable with her fork and looked up at Theo. "And I would bet you one thousand galleons, right now, that neither do they."
As Draco's mouth opened in shock, she popped the bite of food into her mouth, chewed, and swallowed. It took a moment for the table to react, but the moment Mr. Goyle chuckled, "It's a wonder she wasn't sorted into Slytherin," the atmosphere immediately relaxed.
Draco looked at his mother, who was smiling proudly. His father and Mr. Selwyn both seemed pleased. Crabbe and Goyle appeared confused. Theo, whom Draco expected to be put-out, looked aroused.
Draco looked at Grey again. It's a lie, he thought, but when her gaze lifted to his, he wasn't sure anymore. Her voice had been steady, her movements controlled, her attitude exuding superiority, and that mask of make-up concealed too much. She just looked at him, expression unreadable, and then cast her gaze back down at her plate.
Draco swallowed the lump in his throat.
For the rest of dinner, he studied her, trying to catch a glimpse at a crack in her armor, but he never found it. She seemed perfectly at ease. Powerful, even. When dessert came, Goyle struck up a conversation with her, and about Quidditch, no less—did she like the sport? Had she ever played? What was her favorite position? Did she have a favorite team? Had she ever been to a match? The questions were endless, but she answered them politely and asked him questions in return, which he answered eagerly and almost nervously. Even Theo joined in, and Grey spoke to him comfortably, as though he hadn't tried to sabotage her during dinner.
At one point, she hesitated and looked at him, as though silently asking for confirmation, and he frowned, wondering what had been said. He hadn't been paying attention, too distracted watching her, at how she would spoon tiny bites of her dessert and eat as prettily as his mother did, holding the utensil in such a dainty grip. His own dessert remained untouched, and he wound up passing it off to Crabbe before the meal had officially ended.
When his father announced drinks would soon be served, everyone got up from the table, slowly working their way toward the sitting room. Draco watched as his mother intercepted Grey and the two women began chatting in the foyer. They were both smiling. His mother even laughed. And then he lost sight of them as he went into the sitting room and stood near the tree with Crabbe, Goyle, and Theo.
"Wait until Pansy hears about this," Theo muttered, amused. "Lady Gravefoot, my arse."
Draco cringed. The last thing he wanted to deal with was Pansy's jealousy—though it would likely be aimed at Grey more than him. Still, he was liable to suffer an increase in her affections, and that would just be unbearable at this point. They already spent a ridiculous amount of time together…
"Who knew she was hiding that under her robes all this time, eh?" Theo continued and Crabbe snorted in laughter. "I mean, aside from Goyle, obviously."
The big man actually blushed, and Draco wanted to bark at him not to swoon too hard or else he'd be disappointed, but he knew Theo would have a field day with such a remark.
"You think she meant what she said?" Theo asked. "About enemies?"
"Of course not," Draco snapped.
Theo shrugged. "I couldn't decide if she was talking about us or if she's just a damn good actress. But, Salazar, she made a pretty Pureblood witch sitting there in that dress with those girlish manners and that icy response." He pretended to shiver. "She was so cold, it made my blood run hot." He smacked Goyle's arm. "Isn't that right, Goyle?"
"Piss off," the big man muttered, swatting his hand away.
When his mother and Grey did not come into the sitting room, Draco muttered a lie about needing the toilet and excused himself. He almost immediately ran into his mother in the hall, saw Grey wasn't with her, and looked at her in question.
"She went into the garden for some air," his mother told him.
Draco nodded and hurried down the hall toward the garden entry. He could see Grey through the glass walls moving down the stone steps and sneaked out after her. it was dark outside, but lamps littered the pathways and braziers provided enough light to navigate. The evening's enchantments over the Malfoy property ensured the exterior was a pleasant temperature for their guests and Draco inhaled the cool air, clearing his distracted mind.
Draco smoothed back his hair then shoved his hands into his pockets and followed her. He waited until he was only a few feet away before intentionally scraping his shoe to announce his presence. She turned, startled, and eyed him warily.
He didn't speak until he was right beside her. "Getting some air?"
She glanced back at the house. "Maybe we should go back…"
Draco scoffed. "Why? So Goyle can drool on you and Theo can harass you some more?"
He knew she was concerned about how it looked, them being alone, but he couldn't care less. Grey hesitated only a moment longer before turning away from the door. They started walking down the path.
"You didn't mean that," he began. "What you said at dinner."
She smiled and, for the first time all night, he could see the Grey he knew beneath the mask of make-up. Draco snorted.
"That was very Slytherin of you," he murmured, and the realization suddenly doubled his attraction to her.
"I'm a sheep in the wolves' den," she said playfully. "I wasn't being clever. I'm just not stupid."
But it was clever, and it was a move he never anticipated she would make—could make.
"Besides," she continued, "I didn't lie. My mother did teach me that, and I think it's worked well so far." She glanced at him. "Do you know how many people I consider my enemy?"
Draco touched the small of her back, guiding her into the high hedges and out of view of the main house. He didn't want Theo to come looking for him and interrupt sooner than he planned.
"Everyone inside?" he guessed as they entered a small alcove lit by a hanging brazier.
She held up her fingers in the shape of a circle. "None."
"None," he repeated in disbelief. She smiled again and he thought she seemed pleased with herself. That just wouldn't do… Draco took a step closer to her. "But I thought wolves were the natural enemy of sheep."
Her smile faltered and he smirked victoriously.
Draco stepped back and looked around the small alcove, which was one of his mother's favorite garden reading spots. There was a bench and a large, stone garden bed filled with flowers that, assisted by magic, did not wilt even in the winter. He motioned to the bench in offering and she took a seat, but he remained standing. They were silent for a moment, the quiet disturbed only by distant tinkling fountains and the occasional call of a night bird.
"You and my mother are getting on well," he observed.
"Does that bother you?"
He wasn't sure, but he said, "Don't you resent her?"
She seemed surprised. "Why would I?"
"For abandoning you?"
"I…" Her expression became sad. "I never thought that. She was so kind. She tried so hard to help me. I thought I drove her away." She shook her head. "While I wasn't excited about the summer party because I knew what it meant for me, I was really happy that she had invited me."
Draco found himself feeling relieved. He hadn't liked that sad look on his mother's face or that she had been carrying around such guilt for so long. She didn't deserve to feel that way. Knowing that there never had been any ill will toward his mother softened his disposition toward Grey just a little. He eyed her on the bench.
"Are they bothering you?" he asked, glancing down at her feet.
"Hm?" She followed his gaze. "Oh. No, not this time." She peered up at him through long lashes and he shifted uncomfortably, not liking that assessing look. "Thank you."
"For what?" he balked, ready to be offended.
Her red lips quirked into a cheeky little grin. "For being concerned."
He scoffed and looked away. "I'm not concerned," he snapped, and he was glad it was dark to hide the way his face felt warmer. "I just don't want you bleeding all over the place."
"Neither do I," she agreed with a soft chuckle.
Silence descended again, filling up the seconds as he thought of what to talk about. Goyle's questions about Quidditch popped into his head and, though he had largely been too distracted to pay attention, there was one answer she had given that had made him curious.
"You're favorite Quidditch position is really Seeker?" he asked and she nodded. "I thought it was Keeper. You always played it that summer."
Grey's eyebrows shot up. "You made me play Keeper."
"I made you?"
"Yes! You always wanted to be the Seeker but said it was imperative that every team had a strong defense, and that was my job," she said.
Draco narrowed his eyes, thinking back. He could vaguely remember making a speech like that. "You should have just told me off."
"Pfft, I'm an only child. I was just happy to have someone to play with," she admitted. "You know how that is. We couldn't both be Seeker, and you were always so excited about it."
He shook his head. "We could've, I don't know, taken turns or something, at least."
Grey shrugged. "We could've, but I didn't really mind playing Keeper since you made it sound so important." She smiled. "You were a Slytherin even back then."
Draco burst out laughing and briefly turned away. "And you were always a Hufflepuff," he decided. "Ever the team player."
"I like supporting the team," she agreed. "And Keeper is fun. Although, I'm not so good at it anymore. Everyone else got taller but I'm still the same size."
Draco grinned. "Maybe not the exact same size." He held out his hand, pretending to measure her height. "You grew, what, two inches?"
She tsked in mock offense and smacked his hand down.
"Is that why you wear those shoes?" he asked. "A form of wish fulfillment?"
"I don't have to answer that question," she huffed playfully, sticking her nose in the air.
"Oh, you don't, do you?" He shoved his hand back in his pocket. "But isn't that why you like playing Seeker? The ball's your size?"
She laughed so suddenly that she covered her mouth. "That's mean," she complained. "I'm actually decent at it."
"Are you? And where do you play Quidditch that suddenly you're such an expert?"
She opened her mouth to answer but hesitated, and he realized the answer was one he wouldn't approve of. She shook her head and stood up.
"Well I don't play anymore," she told him, some of the mirth gone from her tone. "Not since Uncle hired my tutor." She learned toward him and whispered conspiratorially, "Ladies don't play Quidditch, apparently."
He scoffed. It was true there was a precedent. Slytherin was comprised of the most Pureblood families who upheld the old tenets, and their team never recruited female players. Yet in spite of knowing how he should agree with it because it was proper or, at least, in support of Slytherin House rules, he actually didn't care at all if women played Quidditch or not.
"Tell that to half the people playing at Hogwarts," he muttered, feeling slightly guilty for his diverging opinion. "Is that why you didn't go out for the team?" Not that he had an easy time imagining her playing Quidditch…
"How do you know I didn't?" she asked, slowly walking around the small space, examining the bed of flowers.
He quirked one brow. "Did you?"
"No," she replied, lightly touching a white flower. "I prefer to cheer from the stands."
"Not for Jamie Addams, I hope," he snorted, thinking of the new Hufflepuff Seeker. "He couldn't catch the Snitch if it was handed to him."
She turned toward him, a smile threatening to break out on her mouth. "Well he is on the House team… It wouldn't be very good form to cheer against him."
Draco took a single step toward her. "He should be booed off the pitch, never mind cheering against him." He wasn't sure what came over him, but he withdrew a single hand from his pockets to smooth back his hair and said, "You should cheer for me, instead."
"For you?"
Draco was vaguely aware of the garden doors opening and Theo calling his name as he said, "C'mon, Grey. You know I'm good, and leagues worthier than that lost cause on your team."
"Well, you are good," she agreed, and he liked the way it sounded. "I'll make you a deal. I'll cheer for you whenever you aren't playing against Hufflepuff."
"You'll cheer for me every game," he said, and he was unable to keep the command out of his tone.
The amusement faded from her face as she gazed up at him. Draco only realized he had stepped toward her when Theo shouted again, this time much closer, startling them both. Shit… Draco could hear his friend's footsteps drawing near. He looked at Grey and remembered his friends' sudden interest in her, her warning that her Uncle was receiving inquiries about her eligibility, and he made an impulse decision.
Draco cupped her cheek and used his thumb to smear her lipstick at the corner of her mouth. She jerked back in surprise as he wiped the excess off on his lips. Theo appeared just as Grey was reaching up to her mouth and he was lowering his hand. Theo's eyes widened in shock, bouncing between Grey's smeared lipstick, her blushing cheeks, Draco's scowl, and the red stain on his lip. A sly smirk split his features as he put two-and-two together.
"Mummy's looking for you," Theo said. "Something about family photos. Might, uh," he motioned to his mouth, "want to do something about this first."
Draco continued to scowl as he took Grey by the elbow and ushered her back toward the house while she tried to clean away the smeared lipstick. Theo followed behind them, whistling. His mother met them at the door and he chose that precise moment to start wiping his mouth. Her eyes instantly found the stain of red before bouncing to Grey as she hurried toward the bathroom.
"Is everything all right?" she asked with a smile.
Draco stepped around her. "Fine."
"Did something happen?"
He shrugged. "I don't know what you mean."
Draco immediately went to his room to survey his appearance in the mirror. He cleaned the lipstick off his mouth, straightened his tie, and smoothed down his hair. He was about to leave when he again saw Grey's present sitting on his dresser.
Draco crossed to it, ripped off the silver paper, and opened the top of a jewelry box. A white-gold necklace glinted up at him with a delicate, scrolling pendent surrounding a pale opal. Three diamonds glittered like stars along the scrollwork. It was beautiful…
Inside the lid of the jewelry box was a picture of a woman who could only be Grey's mother when she was not much older than Grey herself, and she was wearing the necklace. So, it was a family heirloom… Why did his mother have it? He would have to ask her later. But now he understood why his mother wanted him to give her that necklace… It belonged to Grey in the first place but coming from him would muddy the waters of her eligibility.
Draco snapped the box closed and stuffed it into his top drawer. There was no way he could give her such a sentimental present. His mother was asking too much. She may nurse private hopes to join their houses, but she didn't know that this was all just a game for him. Grey had surprised him over the summer with how gorgeous she had become, but she was still Grey—a friend to Mudbloods and, worse, Harry Potter. Even if he was attracted to her, which he was, and even if he enjoyed spending time with her, which he did, there was no way it could go any further. She was a blood traitor. And once his mother knew it, too, she would agree.
Draco left his room and found his family gathered with their guests by the Christmas tree in the foyer, taking pictures. Grey stood with the others, her make-up once again pristine, that red dress complimenting her slim figure in all of the right ways.
Yes, his mother would agree Amaris Grey was not a suitable match once she knew the truth, but until then, Draco would have his fun.
He joined the crowd already grouped together for a photo. Next, his mother insisted on getting one of each family together, and then she wanted one of the children. The men stood in a line with Draco in the center and Grey was positioned in front of him. He found himself with his arm around her waist, as though they were a couple.
"One more!" his mother declared as the photographer prepared the shot. The other boys took new poses, but Draco was enjoying the feel of Grey's waist beneath his palm.
"I am not Snitch-size," she whispered, drawing his gaze. "You're just too tall."
She peeked up at him and Draco grinned. He didn't even notice the flash.
After the photographs were taken, the guests began saying their farewells. Crabbe was the first of his friends to go. Goyle went shortly after. When Mr. Nott headed for the door, Theo clapped Draco on the shoulder.
"See you at school, mate. Merry Christmas." He faced Grey. "Amaris," he drawled with a wink. And then he left.
The rest filed out until only Mr. Selwyn remained. While his parents said goodbye at the door, Draco found himself alone with Grey. As he grasped for some kind of snarky send-off, he wondered why it seemed so much easier when they were at school.
"So," he began, "you survived."
"I did," she agreed. "I wasn't sure I would."
He rolled his eyes. "A bit dramatic, don't you think?"
She shrugged one slender shoulder, gaze locked on the floor. He was about to snap at her for being rude when she spoke.
"We didn't fight," she observed.
Draco stiffened. "Disappointed?"
"Not at all." Her mouth twisted at the corner as she looked up at him. "It felt a little like old times."
He scoffed. "Don't get sentimental on me, Grey."
Suddenly her uncle called for her and Draco was surprised to see she offered her hand first.
"Merry Christmas, Draco. I hope you have a lovely holiday."
For a moment, Draco considered not taking her hand, just to spoil her good mood. But before his brain could make a decision, his body was acting on its own. He cleared his throat and took her hand.
"Merry Christmas, Grey," he said and squeezed her fingers. She smiled and walked away. He stuffed his hands into his pockets as he watched her and her uncle leave.
"What a lovely evening," his mother declared.
"Wonderfully done, dearest," his father said to her, drawing her in for a kiss. She smiled when they parted and spied Draco over her husband's shoulder. She leaned into his father's affectionate touch as he put his arm around her and turned to face his son.
"Did you have a nice evening, my love?" his mother asked him, mischief sparkling in her eyes.
Draco shrugged and started to walk out when a last-minute thought stilled his steps. He glanced back at his parents. "She never thought you abandoned her," he said. His mother's smile warped into surprise. "Not once did she blame you."
His mother pursed her lips as tears rushed to her eyes. His father seemed to immediately understand because he pulled her in even tighter.
"There, there," he murmured, stroking her hair. "It's all right. It's what you always hoped, and it's true."
Not wanting to intrude on their tender moment, Draco quietly slipped out of the foyer and went to his room.
Author's Note: Sorry this chapter took so long to get out. I had the scene in my head for awhile, though I feel like the execution turned out differently than I had planned. I actually thought I would enjoy writing the school scenes more but I find the ones at his home way more enjoyable.
