Now

"How many times did I tell you, Draco?! 7pm, Friday night!" Narcissa Malfoy's hands flew up in exasperation as she glared at her son, undressed, unprepared, and staring at her from across his bowl of reheated soup. The regal woman had appeared suddenly, apparating in a plume of the black smoke she was so fond of charming herself with. At least the woman still had a flair for dramatics. "Honestly, you're 25 years old! I shouldn't have to even dirty my shoes walking to a place to apparate just so I can come and remind you of things you committed to." Her voice that had almost always remained level was borderline shrill as she paced the small living room, dark green robes sweeping around her feet with a soft swish. Stunned, Draco swallowed the lukewarm soup, pushing it aside and waving his wand so that the half-eaten bowl was dumped haphazardly in the sink. Narcissa crossed her arms, scowling and waiting for some sort of answer.

"I got swamped with work, must have slipped my mind," he lied smoothly, running his hands through his hair and stretching almost lazily. "They would understand. Seem to be obsessed with my job anyway, I'm sure they're fawning in their seats." The smug grin Draco shot to his mother was enough to make her expression darken, and he could see she was bursting at the seams to truly explode. "Draco Malfoy, you will get up those stairs and change right now. You're not 13 years old and you promised me and that is final." Her arms crossed, and for a moment, it was a standoff between the two of them. Both held an expression of contempt, full of arrogance, a stubbornness that would make a bull cower. Narcissa, however, had always been a master of patience and resilience. With a sigh, Draco rolled his head back to look at the popcorn ceiling, blinking a few times. "Fine. But can I just wear this?"

Indeed, he was not able to just wear the wrinkled white shirt and black slacks. No, his mother flitted to his bedroom to sort through his closet, mumbling in distaste at the pile of laundry that sat at the back of his closet. He knew he had to clean it eventually, maybe tomorrow, though that was what he always said. Once satisfied with what she had arranged, she shoved the piles of robes into his hands and ushered him to change, slamming the door on her way with a hmph. Instead of dressing immediately, Draco sat on the edge of the bed, the pile of clothing wadded in his lap. It was easy to allow his vision to slide out of focus, to hyperfixate on one point in the room and let his mind go blank. Recently, that was all he seemed to be able to do in between case loads. Even when he was having the occasional beer with Blaise and Pansy, conversation would be difficult enough that shutting down was the moment of peace he needed most.

He wasn't sure how long he sat there. Maybe minutes, maybe seconds. The sharp rap of knuckles against his door frame jolted him from his dissociative state, a chill running down his spine. Was it anxiety that was keeping him from having urgency? He had seen the Greengrasses a handful of times in the last few months, it wasn't anything new. For some reason though, this felt different, like he was urgent to leave before he even got there. It almost slipped his mind that he had rebooked with Granger at that damned venue. Fantastic. Blood fantastic. He stripped quickly, and for a moment, could swear he saw deep bruising on his wrists where the shackles had once rested. There was nothing there except unmarred skin. Shoving on the emerald robes, Draco slipped his feet into a pair of his worn work shoes, prying open the door to a disgruntled Narcissa. Her eyes surveyed him, straightening the collar of his undershirt, looking for any imperfections. Once satisfied though, they were gone in a second.

He would never get over that feeling of falling, of disappearing into nothingness before being dropped to his feet like a ragdoll. Draco never possessed that grace that his mother had- maybe it was the bend of the knees? Floo was much easier at this point, albeit more expensive. Dropped at the steps of the Greengrass manor, he felt his stomach launch up into his throat as he gasped in surprise, the panic of the initial drop ebbing. Narcissa broke her stubborn facade, hand reaching to rub the tops of his shoulders as he leaned forward to catch his breath. "Oh, love, are you alright?" Draco weakly raised his hand to swat away his mother's worry, standing upright and squaring his shoulders. "Mother, I'm fine, can we just get this over with? I have plans with Blaise tonight." Another easy lie; it didn't feel great to lie to the person who probably loved him the most, but it was all he could think of on the spot.

The Greengrass manor was almost as elegant as the Malfoy manor had been, maybe even more so given their status following the war. Upgrades came easy for those who were never touched by the Dark Mark, the ones who feigned innocence whenever the subject was broached. The rolling lawns were expertly manicured, a pathway leading up to the front portion of the mansion. Ivory columns held up a balcony overlooking the property, hedges fashioned in various creatures from all across the globe, moving like they were alive. The Hippogriff next to the front door was the one who startled him the most, moving similar to the beast that had left a nasty scar a decade ago. It gave him a chill, and his eyes remained locked on the looming oak door even as it lunged and flapped towards them.

Before they could even knock, light pooled in the frame of manor's entrance, illuminating the darkened doorway with warm rays. The form of Alessandra Greengrass filled the space, her tall figure looming over Narcissa and only a few hairs shorter than Draco. The woman had aged just as well as her friend had over the years, though she hadn't fully embraced any greying hair yet, hair still a rich brown color that had to be the result of dye. The embrace she lurched to give his mother was genuine though, and Draco couldn't fault her for that. The smile she shot him though, that was another story. First it was the flash of white teeth, the feigned interest in her gaze. It didn't escape his notice that it shot down to his forearm, down to where the mark was. The grimace that was on his face remained even when she leaned to hug him as well, stiffening like a cat that had just been picked up before giving her an uncomfortable pat on the shoulder.

"Oh it is so lovely to see you! The girls have been dying to see you again, it's been what, 4 or 5 months? Come in, we've changed some things around," Alessandra chided, turning with a swish of her black dress robes to nearly prance into her house. Any opportunity to brag, to flaunt the wealth they were allowed to keep, to maintain. It didn't take a trained eye to see that the house was beautiful though. Every inch of it had some reference to the richness in life; marble counters, jade art atop ivory podiums. The entirety of the manor felt more like an art gallery than a home. Devoid of any character, a personality other than "money". It was so full, yet so hollow, an all too familiar feeling when Draco focused too hard on his surroundings. A throb behind his eyes signalled the dull pain of a headache beginning to press on, and he gritted his teeth as his footsteps almost echoed throughout the room. Traces of Narcissa and Alessandra's chatter caught his attention, small things: "working so very hard in the office; did I mention he got a promotion last fall?" and "Don't mention anything about the engagement, Daphne hasn't really recovered from it." It peaked his interest, not enough to interject but simply enough to absorb.

Following the older woman's trail towards the central point of the house, it dawned on Draco just how empty it felt here. So full of trinkets and pieces of art but so desolate of personality. Even the barren walls of his own flat had some sort of charm to them; maybe it was the familiarity in the mess, or even simply the size of the space, but it was almost eerie how the Greengrass manor was more like a museum than it was a home. He wondered what their summer home in Greece was like; they had moved there 6 months after the war and did not return until the coast was declared "clear" and the majority of death eaters had been questioned. Deep pockets kept their own family from being investigated, though the secrets that lie below the foundation of a family unit best not be dug up in his experience. Daphne had stayed behind in Greece to the best of his knowledge, though her return was something of recent news. It almost brought a grin to his face; such a proud, arrogant woman returning back to her family as soon as shit hits the fan. So typical. So predictable.

The air in the room seemed to change as soon as his feet passed the threshold into the main dining area, as if the spices from the nearby kitchen were only able to be contained within these walls. Draco couldn't deny the hunger that hollowed out his stomach; when was the last time he had a meal that wasn't scarfed down over the sink, or warmed with the flick of a wand? It had never even occurred to him how much he missed the high falutin cuisine that came with wealth, the kind that served portions made for an adult and not for some trendy tasting. He had to give it to the Greengrass's though, nobody could ever state that they didn't prepare a proper meal. The hard oak table could have seated dozens of ranking officials, both from England and across the globe. Instead, it's seats were only occupied by Astoria and Daphne, sitting across from one another and in a heated discussion. As soon as their eyes caught Alessandra and her companions, the conversation fell to a hush, faces becoming neutral. How many times has this been drilled into them? To silence their voices in the presence of company, or their parents? Pity prickled at his skin as he took a seat to the left of Astoria, his mother finding her own seat beside Daphne.

Astoria's gaze drifted to Draco, fascination in her expression. Brown locks cascaded down her shoulders, though he could tell instantly that the curls had been intentional, likely designed by whatever unfortunate soul had been hired to dote on the girls head to toe. Despite the shine, they bored him; so uniform, not a frizzy hair in sight. It was something he had never noticed in them, never been a bother until now. Alessandra, seated at the head of the table, did not let up the hushed gossip that was exchanged between her and Narcissa, and she did not acknowledge either of her daughters as she spoke. "How nice of you to make your appearance," drawled the cool voice of Daphne, who almost looked bored at the whole event. He couldn't exactly blame her, though the hair on the back of his neck rose as her blue eyes scanned for any trace of the tattoo beneath his robes, judgement bearing through the fabric. It both unnerved and irritated him, and his hands dropped to clasp together in his lap. "Likewise." Was all that he responded, shoulders stiff as he implored her to focus her line of sight anywhere else but his arm.

Something about her changed since he had last seen her face; it was more hollow, hiding what almost felt like sorrow behind a mask of disdain. Like she was above him, above this, like at any minute she was going to try to send him over the edge. Nothing had changed in that respect, at least since their time in Hogwarts; having families that fraternized together did not mean that they were going to automatically be close, and in fact, just the opposite. Always did they compete for grades, with Astoria more content to follow in his shadow than her sister's. He knew it infuriated the older of the two, and even now it gave him a twinge of pleasure to know how much he got under her skin. The animosity that hung in the air was oblivious to Astoria though, who's expression lit up as she tilted her head to get a better view of him. "It is nice that you made an appearance tonight," she corrected her sister, straight teeth visible through the fondness in her smile, "We have missed seeing you, what with work and all." Her hands reached to rest on her own cheek, and he could have sworn that she was batting her lashes at him. "I've seen a few of the cases you've worked in the papers, you know! Absolutely brilliant, your defense of Wilson last spring. Like watching a soap opera!"

Fantastic; she compared a legal case that must have taken months off of his life to a dramatized representation of the media. Bloody brilliant. Ignoring the urge to grit his teeth, he simply nodded, fiddling with a stray strand of his robes. "It certainly was an interesting one," was all that he offered. That case was still a hot topic in the wizarding world, of course it would be dinner conversation. Anybody who was wrongly accused of using an unforgivable curse would make the headlines. Astoria did not seem to register his lack of enthusiasm though, and continued on with her line of questioning. "What was it like? Did you get hired privately? Was he actually innocent? You know, you can never be too sure nowadays." Gritting his teeth in frustration, Draco tilted to ever so slightly to give her the acknowledgement she so desperately wanted. "I do apologize, those are details I'm not at liberty to discuss in...this sort of setting".

While her expression fell slightly, it didn't seem to damper her mood in the slightest, particularly given the approach of a waiter in fine green cloaks. He was precise in where and how he set out each tray of food, Draco's mouth beginning to water at just the sight of the Bolognese immediately to his left. It wasn't even a forethought to wait for his mother's nod of approval before he began placing food on his plate, and it wasn't until he caught the incredulous look from Alessandra that he hesitated. They were guests though, and this was not life of death, and she could get over her damn manners etiquette after she insisted that he be dragged here. Despite the hushed apologies from his mother, Draco silently began tasting each of the items from his plate. There was no denying that they were good, and there was no denying that the Barbera d'asti provided from a seemingly endless source was excellent, but everything about it set his teeth on edge. Like there were lingering questions in the air so desperate to be revealed, one's that he would attempt to avoid at all costs.

For moments though, the table was a lull of eating, a comfortable silence between the tinkling of silverware on fine china and sips of the wine. The Greengrass matriarch was the first to speak though, clearing her throat before addressing Draco directly. "So, Draco, I'm curious as to when you will be bringing a...partner along with you, to one of our family dinners." Draco's chewing slowly, and his stomach dropped slightly. Of course. Nevermind that she wanted to consider this a "family dinner" instead of a contest between herself and his mother, but to interrogate him without escape. Narcissa's expression was almost apologetic, though he could see her fascination in the question as well. Swallowing the bite that sat in his mouth too long, he chose his words carefully; anything could be used against him.

A sip of wine from the impromptu interviewer, the smirk on her face wrinkling the corners of her eyes crinkle. "I'm not really focused on dating, right now." His fork stabbed at a piece of sausage, though his appetite was dwindling, hoping that was the last of her line of questioning.

"Well, I'm sure for the right girl it wouldn't be too difficult. Maybe even one who works the same hours! Oh that'd just be perfect, right, Narcissa?"

The glare Draco shot his mother could kill, though she seemingly ignored it. He knew her well enough to sense her discomfort, but ultimately, she knew what she was getting herself into early on. These questions were routine in the manor, Alessandra hinting at dating Astoria (or previously Daphne), making snide remarks when he ignored her feeble attempts. His eyes closed and it took two to three breaths before he had gotten his composure back. Dinners like this had happened so many times before, it was almost always the same thing. A macabre routine, if you will. With each faux giggle and sharp smile, the clock seemed to drag further and further along, nearly taunting him.

By the time dessert had rolled around, a truly marvelous flan if he was being honest, the clock was beginning to chime at the 8:30 mark. It was almost time for them to be wrapping up, so why hadn't his mother given him acknowledgement that he could leave? Astoria's prattling was grating at best, and trying to dodge the disgruntled expressions her sister was throwing at him was damn near painstaking. Draco glanced at his sleek Rolex, beginning to push his chair back. "Well this has been lovely, but I really must-" Alessandra cut him off with a smile that could cut diamonds, bordering on a sneer. "Oh but we have one more thing to discuss…"

Draco's head snapped in Narcissa's direction, who looked just as lost as he did. His mother wouldn't fling him into a predicament in which Alessandra would be making grand gestures about "discussions'' without fair warning, and she instead folded her palms in her lap and lowered her gaze to them. He didn't miss the whiteness in them, nor the clench of her jaw that he had inherited. "Yes, Mrs. Greengrass?" He said with as much mock enthusiasm as he could muster, reveling at the twitch in her eye.

"I'm going to be honest with both of you. I think it's time to start...joining out family's status, if you understand what I am saying".

One blink. No, two. Draco's chest began to tighten as anger pooled in it, and he knew a vein was beginning to jump in his temple. "What," the low, controlled voice left his throat, "are you referring to, exactly?" Narcissa began to protest his combatance, though through her own shock at the realization, all she could put out was an "oh". He knew what was coming next, and could see Astoria preening from behind her sly mother. How could someone so conniving, so intelligent and cunning, have two dolts for children? "An engagement, that is. The Malfoy family has been, well, out of the news for a while" His mother began to protest, but Alessandra continued. "The good part of the news, Cissa. As it seems Daphne is no longer...interested, I think it would be in your best interest as what is left of the pure blood's to really think about what this marriage could do for you. For your mother, too".

The room was caving in, tightening. He had known one day she would make this declaration but didn't anticipate it as soon as this, let alone on the night he was set to go meet with "Jade". Her name echoed in his head, her real name, and he wanted more than anything to shout it. The anger he felt in room 13 was nothing like this. That held appeal, made him rock hard and eager. This just made him feel like exploding. The sneer began to creep onto his features, and Alessandra's began to fall. His first instinct was to turn on Astoria, old habits urging him to go after the more docile of the women. She didn't deserve that. She was only a product of her fucked up circumstance, didn't know better. No, instead he opened his mouth.

"Alessandra. Fuck. You."

She recoiled, and that only fueled him. "You are a shit person, a shit mother, and an absolute shit friend. My mother can and has done better than some washed up, peaked during Hogwarts has-been clutching to her archaic bullshit. I mean, do you truly believe any of the shit that comes out of your mouth?"

Before she could even protest, he was off in a flurry of colors, disapparating towards the only place he knew: Diagon Alley. Just a few blocks from where he would begin his meeting at 10pm sharp.