To say that Lucius had been surprised to get Pierre's missive, would've been a huge understatement. He'd read the letter with a feeling of silent trepidation, and then handed it over to his wife, who'd perused it and then has given it back to him without so much as a solitary comment.
And as for his own Son?
Draco hadn't spoken to him since their last conversation three nights ago.
A conversation he didn't want to dwell on too much at present.
Perhaps that was why Narcissa had decided to make herself scarce this afternoon, and had left him to deal with Pierre on his own.
Which was why he was currently pacing in his study, with a glass of his finest firewhiskey in hand, staring at the stately grandfather clock in the corner, as the tick tick tick, of the infernal contraption only served to grate on his already overwrought nerves.
He hated that old clock.
An engagement gift from his Mother to his Father…
The irony wasn't lost on him, hadn't been since he'd been a fifth year at Hogwarts and his Mother had passed away that Yule. His Father had neither lamented her loss, nor seemed to be too concerned with how his only child might react to it.
No, Abraxas Malfoy had always been a heartless bastard, which was probably why he'd been the right hand to the Dark Lord for all those years.
Taking another heathy swallow of his drink, he winced when his floo sounded, signaling his guest had finally arrived.
Bugger!
Waving his wand, Lucius watched as Pierre came through the floo, looking impeccable in his bespoke Wizarding robes, of the finest silk that galleons could buy. For all the Malfoy wealth, the Alphonse vaults in Wizarding Paris were just as impressive and filled with artifacts, both questionable and not.
Pierre Alphonse might like to play like he was a champion of the people, but Lucius Malfoy wasn't fooled in the least.
The wizard could be just as treacherous as the Dark Lord ever was, if properly provoked.
"Pierre."
"Lucius."
"Might I offer you a drink before we get down to business?"
"A glass of firewhiskey would not go remiss, Lucius."
Pierre watched the blonde wizard moving gracefully over to an antique oak drink cart, and he smirked as Lucius poured him two fingers of what looked to be his best firewhiskey. As the younger wizard handed him the tumbler, Pierre nodded his thanks, before taking a sip of the amber liquid, his eyes closing in bliss at the pleasing burn.
"Very nice." He drawled politely.
"Thank you, although I'm fairly certain you didn't come visit just to compliment me on my choice of liquor, Pierre."
"No, Lucius—I did come here to discuss our children."
"Oh?" Lucius gestured to the left large winged back chair near the hearth, as he took his seat in the right one, "And what about our children, do you feel requires such immediate attention. Draco has been attending to his betrothed quite frequently in recent days, and seems to be making progress. Has something happened?"
"Of a sort," Pierre offered, setting his glass down on the coaster next to his seat, "Hermione shared with me that she's invited your son to the ballet in Paris for his birthday."
Lucius lifted an eyebrow, as he took another sip of his drink, trying to piece together the reasoning why such an event would require this conversation, but it would seem that Pierre was quick to educate him as to the whys and wherefores.
"The Muggle ballet, Lucius." The sneer that fell over the blonde wizard's face couldn't be helped, and Pierre found himself smirking in spite of the awkward situation. "You might not agree with the plan, and Merlin only knows what a thin skin you have for all things Muggle even after everything you've suffered, Lucius. I'm curious, have you learned nothing from your fall from grace?"
"I see that your penchant for double entendres and misdirection is taking a holiday today, Pierre."
"Well, I can't be a politician every waking moment of the day." Based on Lucius not so subtle eye roll, Pierre was fairly certain the Malfoy Lord wasn't exactly buying that supposition. "Come now, Lucius—you must've known that we'd need to have this conversation at some point. Hermione is the Lady Alphonse, and she is quite well known within both the Magical and Muggle world, in particular due to her place within the French Aristocracy."
"Muggle aristocracy."
"And Magical," Pierre quickly pointed out, his voice holding a warning edge, "you do know that it is my desire to see my family reinstated to the French Throne, and you know that by virtue of that truth, your son will need to make peace with his own dislike for all things Muggle. Do you truly suppose that my daughter will allow your son, to remain so entrenched in his own prejudices, that it will become a hindrance to her plans for her future and that of her children?"
"Her children will be heirs to the Malfoy name!" Lucius spat out, but Pierre chucked deeply.
"We both know that infernal blood contract stipulates that both houses, Lucius…will benefit from this union, which means that the Alphonse line will live on."
"Don't remind me," Lucius scoffed, waving his hand in disgust, "besides, if it's an heir you're so interested in, why not just allow your daughter to bear the Potter boy's child?" Pierre sat back and steepled his hands together, his smirk deepening noticeably, which caused Lucius gaze to narrow, before he hissed out, "You manipulative bastard!"
"What?" Pierre hummed with mild amusement, "Didn't you think I hadn't already considered that possibility? Do you think that your lovely wife, who is quite devious and clever, didn't make that connection the moment we discussed the Ardante in earnest? She's a Black, Lucius—and from what I've been led to believe, the sole reason you were spared the indignity of another stay in Azkaban. I'm here to let you know that as much as it pains me to have this conversation, it needed to be done. Draco and Hermione will be married, and once it comes out about their connection with Mr. Potter—those within the European Pureblood Aristocracy will fully understand the ramifications. However, the Muggle world is another issue, as triads aren't practiced there…"
"This is intolerable, Pierre!"
"Get over it, Lucius," he bit back, "I'm here as a courtesy, nothing more. You have some time to make the concession, but understand, that you will make the concession."
Lucius stood up enraged at being spoken to thusly within his own home, and was about to reply a scathing retort, when his son's voice spoke up from the now open doorway.
"He's right, Father."
Pierre turned and glanced over his left shoulder at the young wizard standing there, his expression utterly devoid of any emotion.
"I didn't realize you were a part of this conversation, Draco." Lucius sneered haughtily.
Draco's gaze shifted to Hermione's father, and the veiled amusement was so clear to see in that moment, he suddenly remembered his intended's own words when it came to her father.
Pierre Alphonse was not a wizard to be trifled with, and he enjoyed manipulation a bit too much.
"Since the bearing of this conversation has to do with me, I respectfully disagree with your assertion, Father. Mother shared with me that Lord Alphonse was here, and I'd assumed for myself as to the likely why…"
"How fortuitous, Son—but I'm afraid it does little to change my opinion on the issue at hand."
"You don't get to have an opinion, Father—not about myself, nor my intended. I'm not unaware of the message this will send, hence why my diabolical betrothed decided to make the offer."
Pierre chuckled and nodded at that comment, while Lucius expression fell into something more pinched and sour looking.
"My daughter is quite clever and cunning, when properly motivated, young Draco," Pierre was quick to point out, "it does not however, change the genuine sentiment behind the invitation."
"I do know this, Lord Alphonse—hence why I'm trying to keep an open mind."
Lucius scoffed, but a singular quelling look from his own son had him backtracking a bit.
"And Mother agrees." Draco felt compelled to share, and watched his father's face pale at that reality.
"Your Mother would never…"
"But she did," he interrupted, his voice firm and resolved, "and as much as I'm not exactly thrilled with the idea, I've already told Hermione that I will be attending her that evening, Father. I have no doubt that the press, both Muggle and Wizarding, will report on us, and I don't intend to allow my future wife to be seen on anyone else's arm, but my own."
"Quite a mature compromise, Draco." Pierre offered sincerely, "However, I have to wonder at your entire motivation."
"There's nothing to wonder about, Lord Alphonse. I'm not a dolt, and I don't expect that this scenario will be changing anytime now, nor in the future. I'm also not a simpleton, and I do know that it's likely that there is more to all of this, than you've willingly shared, am I right?"
Pierre smirked, and sat back—his expression one of supreme enjoyment—which only served to heighten Lucius irritation.
"I should've known you were being less than forthcoming, Pierre!"
"As if you wouldn't do the same, Lucius. You're a Slytherin to the core, and it would seem that some of your questionable traits have rubbed off on you son, but thankfully, not all of them, yes?"
Pierre then stood and walked over to Draco, his bright eyes clearly calculating as he considered the young Malfoy Heir.
After a moment, he stated, "For what's it's worth, Draco—I respect your willingness to try with my daughter—but be warned now, that my first and only concern is with Hermione's safety and happiness, and I will not allow you to harm her again."
"Hence why you allowed your Heir to attend Hogwarts as a Muggle-born, Pierre?" Lucius piped up, drawling out each word spitefully.
Pierre's lips quirked, and his lifted eyebrow belied his own internal exasperation with how petty and bigoted Lucius Malfoy could be (and still was) on a good day…
But all he said was, "Do we have an accord, young Draco?"
He nodded, and replied, "We do, and for the record, Lord Alphonse—I can be just as motivated and cunning as your daughter. A fact you'd do well to remember."
"Touché." Pierre chuckled deeply, clapping the young wizard on the shoulder before he turned and said to the boy's father, "You have one week, Lucius."
"As if I have a choice."
"Happy we see eye to eye on that."
Both Malfoy's watched Pierre Alphonse leave through the floo, and when he was gone, Lucius turned to his son and gritted out, "You're lucky your Mother sided with you, or else I'd…"
"You'd what, Father? Sell me into indentured servitude to a raving half-blood lunatic with daddy issues? Oh wait! You already did that!"
"Why you little, arrogant…"
But Draco didn't wait to hear his father's venomous tirade, as he turned and left the study without looking back.
As he headed down the hallway, he noticed his Mother standing there, her expression tinged with concern. He walked over, kissed her cheek in parting and decided it might be a good idea to make himself scarce for a while.
Heading up into his room, he closed his door and called for Bibi, who brought him something to eat and a bottle of firewhiskey. About ten minutes later, as he sat down to do just that, his floo activated.
Glancing over, he waved his wand and was surprised to hear a voice he hadn't heard in a while.
"Draco, are you there?"
Sighing, he moved over and knelt in front of the grate, and noted the delicate features of his former classmate, Daphne Greengrass.
"Hey, Daph."
"Hi, I got your owl the other day, but I've been rather busy and honestly, it slipped my mind. What can I do for you?"
He sat down on the floor, before running a hand through his hair in frustration. He didn't want to have this conversation with Daphne through the floo, but if he took the chance and met with her somewhere public, it would likely get back to Hermione, and he didn't want that to happen either.
"I wanted to ask you a question?"
"Okay, about what?"
"Astoria."
Daphne sighed and Draco could see her mouth pursing in what looked like irritation.
"Draco, I don't think this is a good idea..."
He put up his had to stop his former classmate from saying something awkward and completely unnecessary, and she thankfully complied, so he forged on, "No, this isn't what you're thinking it is."
"Oh, and what am I supposed to think, Draco? Was I imagining the fact that you and my sister were headed for a betrothal? Or that she was crazy about you?"
"Daph…"
"What?" She bit back, "Tell me you didn't feel the same way for her, Draco."
He sighed, then admitted lowly, "I cared for Astoria. Salazar, Daph…I still do which is why I needed to speak with you."
"About?"
Taking a deep breath, he decided in for a sickle—
Because as much as he didn't want to know, he couldn't pretend that he didn't know…
"I spoke with one of my family portraits, it was the one who set up the betrothal with Louis Alphonse…"
"And?"
"And," he snarked, "he told me about the maledictus curse, Daph…he told me about your family's blood curse."
Draco watched Daphne's mouth pop open in shock, and then his stomach swooped with horror, when her eyes glistened with tears…
It was all the confirmation he needed.
"Astoria is afflicted?"
"We don't know yet, Draco—we won't know for sure until she comes of age."
"But?"
Daphne sighed softly, and then whispered, "She hasn't been herself lately. Tired, and her Magic has been off."
Draco bit his lip hard, suppressing the growl that so wanted to break free, but there was only one question he needed to know…
"How long has she known?" Daphne averted her gaze, and this time the strangled sound fell from his lips as he cried out, "She knew?"
"Draco…"
"Don't, Daph! Don't! She should've told me!"
"And would it have changed anything?"
"No!" He spat out forcefully, and watched as Daphne's eyes fell shut, almost as if she were in tremendous pain.
"I told her it wouldn't have mattered to you, but she didn't want to say anything until we knew for certain."
"And now?"
"I don't know, Draco. I just know that my baby sister's heart is broken, and she won't talk to me about it at all."
He nodded, and didn't immediately reply, because what could he offer at this juncture that would make this situation better, and then his thoughts traveled to a place he knew they shouldn't have, and before he could stop himself, he offered, "I might be able to help, Daph."
"What?"
"Look, I can't discuss it yet, but keep me in the loop, okay…especially if the worst comes to pass?"
"I can do that, but, Draco—how?"
"Just give me some time, and keep this to yourself for now."
"Of course."
He signed off with a promise to check in soon, and felt his emotions spiking and body tightening physically at the thought that Astoria might be afflicted with such a horrendous condition. He knew no matter what, he needed to help her, not realizing the conundrum he'd just created for himself as a consequence.