At least Voldemort hugged me. It's more than my father ever did. — Draco Malfoy
Hermione stumbled from the Floo and it was Draco that kept her upright, despite her obvious ire. He was thankful they arrived in an empty Travelling Room, but he knew it would only be a few moments before his parents sent an elf to retrieve them. He clutched her to his chest and avoided the mark that shimmered in the reflection behind them.
"Please don't make a scene, not here, not now." Draco murmured against her cheek, "you can shout at me all you like afterwards."
The logical portion of Hermione realised he was absolutely right. It wouldn't do to cause a scene in his parent's home, especially under the current circumstances. They needed to present a united front, however, the idea of pretending to be in love with the wizard that drove her barmy was going to prove difficult. At least that was her belief on the matter until he kissed her.
Hermione was startled by the warm lips that covered hers and more so by the firm hand between her shoulder blades and the other, low on her back. Her first instinct was to struggle, but he held her so tightly, it was near impossible. The stiffness in her shoulders retreated and her soft, unfettered breasts pressed against his chest, eliciting a low moan.
Narcissa Malfoy took it upon herself to retrieve her son and managed to curtail her excitement. It would never do to present the couple with showy smiles and gay laughter. She schooled her features and inhaled deeply.
She paused near the entrance to the Travelling Room as she caught their reflection in the ornate gold mirror above the Floo. Narcissa was unable to see the witch's face, but she was quite aware of the fact her son's hand was stroking bare thigh just before he cupped the witch's bottom through the risqué slit of the green gown.
"We can't, not here, not now." The words were spoken in a strangled whisper, yet Narcissa noted the witch did nothing to cease her son's attentions. "What are you doing to me?" It seemed the poor girl was distressed by her body's reactions, and Narcissa had no desire to see her son ravish the girl.
She retreated as silently as she arrived and bumped into her husband. Lucius glared over his wife's shoulder, displeased with Draco's inability to control himself. He had to admit he was also proud of the boy for securing a lovely woman. From his vantage point, the witch had a firm, round derrière, and he knew his son's affinity for such things. Lucius smothered his disdain however when he heard the tell-tale sounds of moans.
"He hasn't the slightest modicum of propriety." Lucius hissed as he latched onto his wife's elbow and led her a safe distance from the Travelling Room.
"Lucius, don't be such a prude. You weren't much better when we were young. In fact, if I recall correctly, you marked me and shagged me against the wall of my parent's sitting room." Narcissa patted her husband's cheek as the fond memory brought a smile to her rose lips.
"It couldn't be helped. The Veela tendencies cause an uncontrollable need to have relations with your chosen until she's rounded with child." Lucius scoffed with indifference, yet his grey eyes narrowed in understanding. "He's marked the witch, obviously. He said, resolutely no less, the woman in question was not Hermione Granger, and he's gone off and—" Narcissa pressed her forefinger against her husband's parted lips with a small shake of her head and kept her knowledge to herself.
"It's his life. Come along, we'll allow them a few more moments of privacy, and then we'll simply send Sméagol to retrieve our libidinous son and his witch." Narcissa smoothed her hands down the front of her silver robes and led Lucius to a small sitting room down the corridor.
Hermione's knees were quaking and it was Draco's strong arms that kept her aloft. Draco had stroked her arse cheeks before he caressed the damp fabric of her silk knickers. It was a simple matter to shove them aside and tease her sodden nether lips. The feather-light touch was maddening, which was exactly Draco's goal.
"I need you to touch me, kitten." His teeth grazed the stark white mark and Hermione shuddered.
He grasped the hand at his neck and drew it slowly between them, while he suckled at her throat. He wrapped her small hand around his achingly hard cock and rocked to and fro, as he sought to relieve the tension. The feel of her hand against him, her palm rubbing the head of his cock nearly brought him to his end.
"I need to be in you." Draco pulled his witch toward the small settee in the corner and hastily shoved her gown over her hips.
Hermione was long passed the ability to argue with him. The magic humming in her mark made her feel reckless. She straddled his bare thighs and with his guidance, sunk onto his throbbing cock. She bit her lip and gasped at the sensation of feeling him so deeply within her. Draco's insistent hands aided her rise and fall against him.
He freed her breasts carefully, so as not to tear the delicate ties on her shoulder, hidden beneath the wide draped chiffon of her gown. He was mesmerized by the sight of Hermione's pink flushed breasts bouncing near his face and quickly caught a dusky nipple between his teeth. Hermione's strangled moan against his ear nearly set him over the edge, but it was she who was sent careening off the edge of the cliff first.
"I can't—" She gasped, and he could feel her legs trembling against his thighs. Draco held her hips and thrust upwards hard and fast until he spilt into her with a great groan of relief.
Hermione was incredibly conflicted by their encounter and the simple fact Draco held her against his chest for a few moments only aided in the cloudiness muddling her thoughts. He kissed the tender skin between her shoulder and neck, just before he held her face in his hands.
"You are going to look marvellous when you're round with my child, kitten." Draco wasn't absolutely certain why he had uttered such words, but the thought pleased him immensely.
"You're ridiculous, that's not happening. We're simply going to petition the Minister for Magic and considering our relationship with Shacklebolt, he won't waste any time in vacating this accidental engagement." Hermione sounded quite sure of herself as she climbed off Draco's naked thighs and adjusted her gown. She flicked her wand and a simple Scourgify cleaned them right up.
"For being an utterly brilliant woman, you're not particularly bright when it comes to Pureblood Traditions. I'd explain them to you, but we're already late. There's actually a book in the main library, I'll ask Sméagol to fetch it after dinner. Suffice it to say, it's not merely our so-called accidental engagement that's the issue, my blood has chosen you and the sooner you accept it, the better." Draco slid on his black trousers and counted to ten in Latin, Italian, and French, while Hermione righted her gown.
"Sméagol? Seriously, Malfoy?" Hermione hated the way her body naturally leant toward his, yet further thought was interrupted by the appearance of a terribly grey house elf.
"Mistress wishes Sméagol to direct Master Draco and guest to dinner." The elderly house elf coughed a few times but managed to bow low and deep.
"Thank you. Don't even start, Granger." Draco grasped Hermione's hand, kissed her cheek, and led her to the formal dining room of the Malfoy Cottage.
The silence was deafening. The subtle, polite conversations ebbed the moment Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger stepped into the grand dining room. Hermione's large brown eyes lightly touched each guest and her heart quickened with every realisation.
Draco entwined their fingers and carefully obscured the glaringly obvious jewel-encrusted ring on her finger. Hermione felt the ring shift and was thankful for his manoeuvres. They hesitated as they neared the dining table.
The places were set impeccably as always, yet that wasn't the issue. It seemed the Patriarch of the Greengrass family decreed it was in his family's best interest to have their daughters in attendance as well. The young Astoria Greengrass sneered nastily at Hermione, but Daphne offered a small, friendly smile.
Draco knew his father and knew him well. The last two empty seats were a test. The seat he normally occupied near his father's right hand was vacant, yet beside that space was Astoria. The only empty chair was placed between Mr Greengrass and his wife, which would never do.
"Father. Mother." Draco nodded in deference to his parents and escorted Hermione around the oblong table with a hand at her waist and another holding her left. She glanced at him questioningly, but his lips were pressed in a firm line, which begged silence.
"Draco, darling, you remember the Greengrasses, don't you?" Narcissa's bright blue eyes were dancing with amusement, though she maintained her sophistication with an elegant gesture toward her guests.
"Of course Mother. Marguerite, lovely to see you. Johnathan, hope you're well." Draco offered a tight smile that did not reach his eyes. "I'm sure you're well acquainted with Hermione Granger."
"Pleasure." Hermione semi-curtsied, which Draco found adorable, strangely, yet he quickly returned to the task at hand.
"Astoria, it would be rude of me to ask Ms Granger to sit wedged between your parents. I'd hate to make my guest comfortable. You wouldn't mind, would you?" Draco held the irate gaze of the blonde witch and refused to yield.
Astoria Greengrass tossed her light hair over her shoulder and stood with a glower. She marched her way around the table and flounced between her parents without the slightest bit of finesse. She crossed her arms beneath her bosom, much like a petulant child, and her father was quick to soothe her ire with muted whispers.
Draco brushed the invisible dust or what have you from the pinstriped cushion and sat Hermione in silence. The tension was palpable when he kissed her knuckles and took his place beside her. He lifted his water goblet in a silent salute to his father and took a small sip.
"Fashionably late does not apply when one is summoned by their father." Lucius Malfoy sniffed haughtily and calmly sipped from the crystal tumbler filled with Ogden's Finest.
"My apologies." Draco casually dropped his arm across the back of Hermione's chair and shrugged.
As for Narcissa, she ignored the banter between her husband and son, in order to summon the house elves. The delightful creatures carried silver platters and paused beside their Mistress while they waited for her approval. Once they received the nod, the platters were delicately floated to the centre of the table.
Hermione studied the little brown creatures with their ridiculously sized ears and bulbous eyes. She was pleased to note the elves wore freshly starched linens and smiled when consommé was ladled into her bowl. The female elf faltered when she dared to look up.
"Miss Mimi!" The elf gasped and nearly dropped the serving bowl in her excitement.
"Jillie?" Hermione peered at the elf with a furrow to her brow.
"Miss Mimi, remembers Jillie!" The elf squeaked with delight, yet dutifully lowered her head when Lucius grunted in displeasure.
"I'm sorry." Hermione carefully addressed Lucius as Draco gently squeezed her shoulder.
"Ms Granger, I shall make allowances for you, as it is obvious from your upbringing you were not instructed it was uncouth to address the help." Lucius smiled, yet it was filled with derision.
Astoria tittered into her linen napkin and sipped her white wine in amusement. She had faith in her father. She knew he would fix this mess. It aided her ease to know Lucius Malfoy detested the Muggle-born witch as well.
"I don't know about the rest of you, but I am insanely curious to know how you're acquainted with Draco's elf. Would you care to share, Ms Granger?" Narcissa tented her fingers over her soup bowl. Her blue eyes flicked toward her husband and there was warning in them, which was the only reason he remained silent.
"She's yours?" Hermione turned to Draco, and he offered a small half smile just before he dipped his head to kiss her cheek.
"I'm quite interested as well." Daphne Greengrass fluffed her long dark red strands and toyed with the blue velvet draped across her knees.
"It's lovely to see you, Daphne, it's been awhile. I always enjoyed our lunches." Hermione blinked slowly and took a moment to compose herself.
"Yes, well, Daddy has been an absolute irritant in his quest to find his daughters an acceptable match. It's been quite a bore really, you should see the trolls he's pranced before me. Apparently, the idea of marrying for love is for others, but never for us. I'd absolutely adore a lunch. I must apologise for not responding to your owls. My sister nicked them for ages. We're not speaking at the moment, I'm sure you understand, especially after we were ensconced in Grimmauld Place." Daphne wiggled her fingers in her sister's direction and even Hermione smiled.
"Daphne, that is quite enough." Johnathan Greengrass hefted his large form forward and slammed his meaty fist onto the mahogany. His reddish blond hair fell into his eyes and his wife was quick to stroke his arm.
"Granger here worked in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures for a bit before she became an Auror. Fresh out of Hogwarts, sunshine and rainbows dancing in her eyes, and uhm Jillie here was an abused elf. No one else would have her after Granger filled her little head with thoughts of payment and proper clothes." Draco patted Jillie's lumpy head affectionately, and she preened under the attention.
"I thought I was helping her, Malfoy."
"I know, love." Draco rolled his eyes and turned his attention back toward his mother. "I might not be a bleeding heart Gryffindor or anything, but Jillie was a bit pathetic, so I brought her home and that's that. Now, perhaps you'd like to explain to me why we're here dining with the Greengrasses, no offence, Daphne."
"You are being absolutely ridiculous, Draco Malfoy! This was supposed to be it! This was supposed to be our evening! Tomorrow the Prophet was going to be decorated with our pictures and the news of our wedding, but you've gone and ruined it all!" Astoria allowed her cutlery to fall through her fingers and the sound of it clattering against the china was excruciating. "Daddy, fix it. The Mudblood stole him from me." She burst into faux tears and Johnathan was quick to wrap his arms around his little girl.
Draco ignored the theatrics and attended to his consommé. He plucked a delectable soft roll from a passing elf and slathered it with butter. He pointed his butter knife at Astoria and chewed thoughtfully.
"First, don't use that word in my presence ever again. Second, she didn't steal anything from you. I was never yours in the first place. Third, even if I did choose you, which was never going to happen, I never would have given you my grandmother's ring. It's a bloody binding ring and you annoy me by doing simple things, like breathing. The idea of being bound to you is nearly worse than the year the Dark Lord lived in my home." Draco dropped his butter knife and poured Hermione a glass of white and thrust it into her hands. "Granger, have some wine, you look a bit shaky."
Astoria's lips firmly clamped together. Her cheeks blossomed into a lovely shade of pink. Her fingernails dug into her fleshy thighs beneath the table and for a singular moment, she wished Draco Malfoy would drop dead. He had ruined her hopes and dreams. At one time, they had been friends, quite close friends, and she closed her eyes as she felt it all wash away into nothingness.
"Johnathan, the Ministry has already recorded the Betrothal, though they were most unwilling to reveal the witch's identity. Considering the fact my son bequeathed a family heirloom, there is nothing more to be done. I'm sure Lucius will compensate you for your imagined losses, and we'll simply move on with our lives. It's all for the best really." Narcissa pursed her lips in some semblance of a faux smile in the face of her lie and sipped her wine.
Draco paused with a spoon hovering near his lips in order to arch an eyebrow toward his mother. He appreciated her accepting attitude, as far as he knew, it was her fault they were in the midst of such a conundrum in the first place. He managed to school his features when she easily lied to the Greengrasses. He wasn't the sort of man to confront his parents in front of guests. It would have been ridiculously uncouth.
"I think it would be best if we took our leave. Our apologies for interrupting a…family occasion."
Johnathan Greengrass stood and Marguerite followed suit. Marguerite grasped her younger daughter by the elbow and forced the poor girl to stand under protest. Astoria attempted to throw her linen napkin at Draco, but it simply landed in her bowl of consommé.
"Daphne." Marguerite patted her faux blonde coif and soft-spoken words were a relief when faced with Johnathan's ire.
"I'd rather like to stay; if that's all right with Mrs Malfoy." Daphne's shy smile melted most of the tension in the room.
"Of course my dear." Narcissa airily waved her hand in easy acceptance.
"I won't ask again." Johnathan's jowls jiggled as his fist clenched.
"I'm so glad. It would be a shame if I were to let a few well-kept family secrets spout from my lips as I was dragged ahem most unwillingly from Malfoy Cottage. I suppose the Daily Prophet would be forced to print them, as we know Astoria couldn't resist sending her good friend Rita Skeeter an owl. I suppose the best recourse would be for me to remain behind as I have imbibed quite a few glasses of wine. I would hate to bring my family to its knees." Daphne tsked lightly, but her gaze never wavered.
"Well done." Hermione murmured as she suddenly found herself intrigued by the wine glass desperately clutched in her trembling hands.
As for Johnathan and Marguerite, they dragged their younger daughter toward the Travelling Room without another word, which was probably for the best. The silence upon their departure was only broken by the sound of Lucius Malfoy swirling the ice cubes in his empty tumbler.
"Wedding planning!" Narcissa Malfoy squealed in such a way it was reminiscent of a teenage girl.
"I'm not nearly intoxicated enough for this, Sweetheart." Lucius Malfoy drawled in the way only a Malfoy could, as an exceedingly tiny house elf popped to his side. She took his empty tumbler and refilled it without a word.
"Wedding plans?" Draco was utterly aghast at his father's easy acceptance, "you're not angry with me? I expected a bit of a row if I'm being honest."
"Hmm yes, a row sounds decidedly vulgar. Draco, listen to your mother. I suppose this is where I'm supposed to welcome Ms Granger to the family. Instead, I'm going to retire. Sweetheart!" Lucius stumbled to his feet and zigzagged his way from the dining room with the tiny elf in a pink tutu, trailing close behind.
"Draco, you're an adult. If you wish to marry Ms Granger, who am I to stand in your way?" Narcissa's clear blue eyes twinkled with mirth and knowledge.
"Y-you think I did this to myself?! I know you did this! I want you to admit it!" Draco shoved away from the table as quickly as humanly possible and didn't even flinch when his chair clattered to the wayside. "She's—she's—" he sputtered as he righted his chair before he finally segued into silence.
"She's your fiancée. Now," Narcissa clapped her hands together and completely ignored Hermione's gaping lips. "I've always dreamt of a society wedding, but such things take time, and we haven't really much to spare."
Hermione simply stared at the Matriarch in utter and complete disbelief. She shook her head and blinked heavily, yet the scene had not changed. Narcissa Malfoy was still looking at her expectantly, and Hermione hadn't the slightest idea how to respond.
"I-I," Hermione took a cleansing breath and channelled that elusive bit of calm, which was hidden away in the recesses of her thoughts. "I hadn't given it much thought honestly. I suppose I had assumed the Betrothal would be annulled once it was discovered that it was not solidified with Astoria Greengrass."
Draco snarled angrily and squeezed Hermione's shoulder in warning. He knew better than to manhandle a witch in front of his mother, or at all, but that didn't mean he wasn't sorely tempted. The idea of being forced to marry Hermione Granger of all witches was enough to drive a man to drink. His stubbornness refused to allow him to accept the simple fact he wanted her. He always wanted her. She belonged to him, with him, but damned if he was going to admit that to his mother.
"Draco, perhaps it would be best if you retired to the study with your father." Narcissa gestured with a quick hand flutter. He offered a curt nod, but his mother's voice was quickly calling him back. "It is rude to leave the presence of your fiancée without acknowledging her. You were raised better than that."
Despite his poor temperament, Draco bent and kissed Hermione's cheek. Inadvertently, his thumb stroked across the white sliver on the side of her neck. The simultaneous gasps were easily ignored by Narcissa and Daphne, as they suddenly found their wine incredibly interesting.
Hermione's head lulled to the side and her eyes fluttered shut as the feel of his thumb against her skin awakened need. Draco concentrated on the sliver of shimmering white as the jolt of magic shared between them forced him to act. He hated his newfound inability to resist her and knew she felt much the same.
While it wasn't necessarily proper to drag his accidental fiancée into his arms and snog her senseless at the dinner table, it couldn't be helped. Hermione attempted to resist. Her palms were flat on his chest, and she pushed against him silently. Draco's grey eyes narrowed and it was then she realised his eyes had darkened to a dangerous hue, reminiscent of obsidian.
"Mrs…Malfoy?" Hermione squirmed in his arms, yet she was unable to evade the insistent and soft lips.
"Oh for Merlin's sake. Manners, Draco! Manners! Absolutely no sense of propriety." Narcissa slapped her palms on the table. "At least have the decency to take her to your bedroom. I do not wish to witness my son deflower his fiancée on the table. We eat here, Draco!"
Draco snorted against Hermione's throat, as he vaguely wondered when he had segued from her lips. The lure was strong and it was only with difficulty that he managed to lift his head. Hermione looked downright drunk on the magic being exchanged between them. He quite decided he liked the sultry look in her eyes, but he managed to look over her head and lock eyes with his mother.
"I don't even like her," Draco spat, even as his body betrayed him when Hermione wilted against his chest. "And yet, I can't stop myself from wanting to clear the table and fuck her until she can't move. You've-you've got to fix this. I can't spend the rest of my life wanting her this way."
It was then, of course, it was then, Hermione managed to free herself from the haze clouding her vision and her judgement. She wrenched the smooth, gentle hands from her hips and pushed away from the sinewy muscles against her cheek. Hermione stood and stared up into her partner's eyes just before she shoved him as she wavered on her heels.
"You bastard," Hermione hissed. "Do you think I wanted this? Are you truly so arrogant you believe I should be tossing my knickers at your feet in thanks? Don't you think I would do anything …anything at all in order to rip this bloody ring from my finger? I've tried, believe you me, I've tried, and it won't budge." Hermione stalked forward and repeatedly stabbed Draco with her forefinger. "Do you think I'm proud of the fact I lost my virginity, the one gift I had planned to present to a man that actually loved me, to you, a man that is surly, unkind and downright disparaging of my very existence? Do you really think it was easy for me to come here tonight, Malfoy? I know what your father thinks of me, he's never pretended, but you have, haven't you? I know your mother doesn't think particularly highly of me either, despite the invitation for tea and her exuberance in planning a wedding I for one wish didn't exist."
"Granger—"
"Hermione—"
"Ms Granger," Narcissa interrupted. "I accept full responsibility. I schemed and this is the result."
Hermione angrily wiped the furious tears from the corner of her eyes as she took in the people staring at her with their mouths agape. She wanted to apologise, but she wasn't sorry. The tumultuousness of the entire situation had reared its ugly head, and she no longer wished to be silent.
"No." Hermione Granger snarled and even Narcissa blinked in surprise. "I curse the day I ever let my curiosity get the best of me. I've learnt my lesson. I almost wish, no, I do wish that the ring in that stupid little box had been Ron's. I wish he had stupidly given me a family heirloom that could never be removed, not because I want to marry him, I don't. Gods, I so don't, but I don't want to marry you either and these antiquated Pureblood Rituals or-or Blood Magicks, whatever they're called, are horrid actually. They're cruel, but that's not the point. The point is, I don't want to marry you. You obviously don't want to marry me. It isn't supposed to be like this. Ron might be an idiot. He might be selfish, lazy, and an utter and complete slob, but at least he's my friend. At least, he cares about my feelings, and when he says something mean, he apologises for it, and he means it. He would—he would shrug his shoulders and say well Mione, guess we'll make the best of it. I would hate it because I hate it when he calls me Mione, but at least—at least I wouldn't feel like this."
It was Daphne Greengrass who approached the weeping brunette witch. It was Daphne who held the shorter woman against her and patted Hermione's back. It was Daphne who glowered at Draco until his eyes dipped toward the floor in remorse.
"I thought you liked her enough to be polite." Daphne's voice was low and smooth like honey, even over the sound of Hermione's sobs. "I put up with your arrogance, when we were children, when I didn't know better. She doesn't deserve to be treated like this, Draco. I had such high hopes when I learned you had finally stopped shagging my sister. I heard of your distraction antics as far as Hermione was concerned. I mean honestly Draco, you are protesting quite loudly for someone who has taken nearly every opportunity to snog her. She's your partner and while I don't understand her need to prove herself, I thought you would." Daphne placed her hands on Hermione's shoulder and created a modicum of space between them.
"Mrs Malfoy," Hermione cleared her throat and looked at the tall blonde witch. "I apologise for my outburst. Contrary to popular belief, I was raised with manners. As for the wedding, I'm sure whatever you wish would be wonderful, as you are known for your impeccable taste. Thank you for your hospitality, and good evening." Hermione slowly turned on her heel and brushed passed Draco.
"Granger—" Draco reached for her, yet only managed to graze her fingers as she pulled away.
"Don't touch me."
"I'll see her home." Daphne waggled her fingers toward Narcissa and pretended Draco didn't exist as she followed Hermione's hasty exit.
Slowly, Draco sunk onto the cushioned high back chair and finished the contents of his wine glass in a single gulp. He detested the idea of having to face Hermione Granger at work after her explosive display of emotion. For a nanosecond, he almost wished he had given the ring to Astoria, but then the thoughts of spending a lifetime listening to her incessant whining quickly quashed such ideas.
"You didn't tell her." Narcissa's fingernails tapped against the side of her goblet as she studied the pattern that decorated her china. "I'm simply going to assume you fibbed as well. You Malfoy men really are a manipulative lot. I have to admit I was pleased when the Ministry informed us you had solidified a match. I never pretended to be fond of Astoria Greengrass. Your father was of the idea if we pushed you toward her, you would make your own choice, but that's not what happened is it?"
"No," Draco answered sulkily, "I didn't have anything to do with it. Weasley did it. Hell, you did it as well. I was—I was going to tell her, eventually. I don't know what happened." He sighed and squashed his cheek against his open palm.
"You bit her, that's what happened," Narcissa's blue eyes flicked heavenward. "If you had paid the slightest bit of attention to your Specialities Tutor, none of this would be happening."
"It was an issue before I ever bit her! Is that what you wish to hear?! I struggled with it long before the situation that landed me, landed us in St. Mungo's." Draco was well aware of the fact he was shouting at his mother, but propriety be damned. "There wasn't anything to be done about it. She was supposed to marry Weasley and I would spend the rest of my existence in misery, shackled to a witch of my parent's choosing. I didn't mean to bite her. I was, I was—" Draco faltered and swallowed hard.
"Tell me." His mother walked the short distance to her son and placed her hand on his shoulder.
"I was locked in a memory. I simply kept replaying Aunt Bella torturing her, and I just, I wanted to protect her and I couldn't then. I couldn't do anything then. It was an accident." Draco wilted under the soothing hand of his mother, and Narcissa's posture relaxed in silent acceptance.
Lucius Malfoy stumbled into the dining room and scoffed at his son's emotional outburst. He teetered on his feet slightly, but remained upright and was quite pleased to discover he hadn't spilt his tumbler of firewhiskey. Lucius flounced onto the chair at the head of the table, as was his right, and smirked at his son.
"Accident," He scoffed. "You don't honestly believe that, do you Cissa? He's been downright obsessed with the little Mudblood from his first year at Hogwarts. I told you we should have sent him to Durmstrang. Look what it has got us, a Mudblood daughter-in-law, and Half-Blood grandchildren. The Pureblood Malfoys, the legacy of my ancestors has ended, bravo Draco, bravo." Lucius Malfoy tittered and clapped his hands in facetious applause.
He didn't see the way his son's eyes dangerously darkened. He didn't see his son's clenched fist and the pink hue of the boy's cheeks. He definitely didn't see the firm knuckled fist aimed for his nose, but he surely felt it.