Glasses stacked themselves and clanked out the open door and down the hall, startling the house elf cleaning Suite 912. Bedclothes shook out and tucked themselves in, somewhat unevenly. Trousers and jumpers whizzed through the air, jamming themselves into a chest of drawers. His pipe and weed buried themselves in his nightstand, the half-empty decanter of scotch disappearing quietly behind a curtain.
Draco contemplated a shave but decided there wasn't time; he would have to settle for washing his face and brushing his teeth. How utterly, thoroughly, completely like his father to announce he would be arriving in ten minutes with something urgent to discuss.
"I'm coming for dinner tonight," Draco had protested. "Can't we talk then?"
"This can't wait."
"Fine - I'll meet you downstairs for breakfast. I can be there in a half hour."
"Your mother and I breakfasted hours ago. I'll see you in ten minutes."
The Floo connection died as suddenly as it had begun, and Draco had launched into a frenzy of activity. He had only been staying at the Avalon for a month, and neither of his parents had dropped in yet for tea as they had mentioned they might. He would have preferred it to remain that way, but his father was not a man who heard the word "no" and believed it applied to him.
He was just buzzing down to the kitchens to request tea service when the front desk bell rang, announcing his father was in the lobby. As the elf was bringing up the tea a few moments later, the Floo roared back to life. Confused, he turned and saw Astoria in the fire, looking frantic.
"Darling, I'm so sorry - "
"Astoria, I'm sorry, this will have to wait, my father's coming up now. I'll Floo you after he leaves."
She looked horrified. "Oh God. You haven't seen the paper?"
"Paper?"
The lift chimed down the hall.
"I made a mistake, darling, I'm so sorry - I submitted an announcement yesterday to the Prophet." She glanced around swiftly, as if to be sure she was alone, and lowered her voice. "I was so angry at Daphne I wasn't thinking straight."
"What sort of announcement?" he demanded sharply.
There was a crisp knock at the door.
"Just a moment!" he called, wincing, then turned back to Astoria, who was in tears.
"I'm so sorry," she whispered. "It's about - you know - the engagement. Daphne was just being so nasty to me after the gallery opening Friday night, I wanted to shut her up. I sent in an announcement to the Prophet that night and I forgot all about it until Mamma Flooed me this morning, crying."
He stared at her, mute.
"Well, I'll let you… you know." She looked miserable.
"I'll Floo you after," he managed to say, as his father used alohomora to let himself in. He swept in imperiously, his long black cloak pristine despite the falling snow outside.
"I don't appreciate being kept waiting in the hallway," he snapped, holding out his cloak and scarf, which Draco accepted. "Although it's little wonder you weren't in a hurry to see me after your stunt this morning."
"That's really - "
"Your mother is beside herself. What on earth made you think this was a fitting way to announce an engagement to your family? What were you thinking? This shows a shocking lack of regard for our feelings and priorities."
Watching distastefully as the elf began laying out the tea service in the sitting room area of Draco's suite, he added, "Still, I suppose it's not all that much of a surprise, given the long line of terrible judgment calls you've made the past few years."
"It wasn't me," Draco snapped. "Astoria submitted the announcement. I didn't know anything about it. She was angry at her sister, she said, she wanted to get back at her."
His father raised his eyebrows. "Very mature," he remarked. "Still, I admit this is a relief. Perhaps you might take this moment to re-evaluate this relationship."
"You told me you liked Astoria," Draco protested.
"She's a charming girl, Draco, but I'm sure you'll see that in the long term you want a wife who's a bit more substantial. Parties and art galleries are all fine entertainment for a youthful companion, but considering the utter shambles you've made of your own reputation in recent years, it's of the utmost importance to choose a wife who can show that you're someone to be taken seriously."
The elf bowed low to them to indicate tea was ready to be served, and Draco settled into one of the armchairs. His father remained standing, looking down at his nose at the elegant spread before him as if the elf had offered them last week's moldering filet of sole.
"Astoria is entirely serious!" Draco said, flustered and hastily getting back to his feet. "She's on the junior board at the Lourenço Modern Art Museum and she's run several very successful - "
"Oh come now, Draco, really!" His father dismissed the elf with a single curt glance. The creature bowed low again to both of them and left. "She's a socialite. I'm sure she's a very entertaining girl to spend your time with right now, and I won't begrudge you being young and having a bit of fun, but when it's time to settle down, you'll find she's simply not equipped to the task. I met dozens of girls like Astoria when I was a young man, and I had a very enjoyable time, but I chose to marry your mother."
"And I'm glad, obviously, but I think you've got a very limited picture of the sort of witch Astoria is. I know all the society pages in the Prophet show about her life are parties and charity events, but she's got much more going on than that. I'd hoped you could see that."
"I had hoped many things for you, but we both know how that turned out," his father said coldly. "Dally with this girl as you like. She's certainly preferable to much of the female company you've kept in the past."
The fact that the Prophet and various tabloids loved printing pictures of Draco entangled with actresses, singers, models, and occasionally dancers was entirely out of his control - not that his father bothered to make that distinction.
"But when it comes time to choose a wife, I trust you won't disappoint your mother and me, yet again."
Infuriated, Draco spread his arms wide.
"Well then, by all means, consider yourself disappointed!" he snapped. "Astoria and I are engaged. I had hoped to share this with you and Mother in a rather different fashion, but I suppose if the news is going to be such a letdown, it hardly matters."
There was a long, thick silence. Lucius stared at Draco, his jaw set hard. Neither of them moved.
After several long minutes, Draco offered, "Some tea?"
"Thank you, no," his father said, his voice expressionless. "Not that you're owed this measure of courtesy, but I'll let you break the news to your mother yourself. She deserves to hear this from you."
"Thank you," Draco managed, watching somewhat meekly as his father recalled his cloak and scarf with a twitch of his wand, then swept from the room.
As soon as the door shut and locked behind him Draco gestured with his own wand, calling forth a tumbler, ice, and a few fingers of scotch, glancing down at his watch mechanically as he did so. Close enough to noon.