A/N: Thank you SO MUCH for my two reviewers, honestly, you guys rock. Here's another, oh, 5,500? words for you. Short, I know, but I can't give away all of my pre-written work, now can I? This is, unfortunately, unbetaed, but I'm open to grammatical suggestions and the like. Actually, any suggestions will be considered greatly. Tell me if Draco is too out of character...I was hesitant about introducing the knowledge of Veelas so early in the story, but I want to focus on their reactions, not the mystery.

Thank you!

(5597 words)

Wednesday

12:00 PM

Lunch at Gino's Deli

Draco leaned back in his dark wooden chair, resisting the urge to put his feet up on the circular lunch table like a villain. A picture of the Malfoy Heir behaving badly in public would not do, especially as Draco was sure the excited lady at the table to his left was taking pictures with her phone.

Yes, he knew what a phone was. He wasn't clueless. He paid some witless Muggleborn to educate him about the Muggle world the second the war ended with Pothead coming out on top. He preferred not to use Muggle things, just because the majority of his business contacts disapproved.

Sighing to himself, Draco took a sip of water, the ice clinking as he set the glass down on the table. Daphne and Theo were to meet him at Gino's in five minutes, and he needed to get his head on straight. Ever since Theo's message, he'd been distracted with thoughts of a woman he hadn't seen in five years: his mother.

Narcissa Malfoy, torn up about her husband's (Draco refused to call Lucius his father) arrest and subsequent madness at the hands of vengeful dementors, had fled the country with its endless gossip, jeering, hissing and spitting, leaving her seventeen-year old son alone in England. She'd gone to Italy, where her mother's family originated. Both her and her son had always felt at home in the beautiful country; it was no surprise Narcissa had hid there after the horrors of the war.

Draco picked up his napkin, curling it in his fist even as he smiled pleasantly for the cameras. He hadn't seen or heard from her since, and he had no desire to meet his mother anytime soon. Why should he? It wasn't like she cared for him. This was made evident by her abandonment.

Inhaling deeply, Draco smoothed his napkin over his lap. He was dressed smartly, in a silver-blue button down silk shirt that Daphne had picked out for him, as well as a nice jacket and trousers. The press hadn't yet picked up on his mother's return, and he wasn't about to fuel rumors with pictures appearing of him looking less than perfect.

You don't need her, he reminded herself, lips curving up as he thought of his success. What did you do when she left? Did you sulk? No. You rose to the top.

It was true. Though Sleeping Dragon had begun in a seedy office building, with Draco furiously managing everything and trying to get business contacts, it had taken merely five years for the name to become internationally known – known, that is, for something besides his involvement in the war. He was sure his mother had heard of his success. Take that, he thought, this time the smirk real. I did it alone. Well, with Daph and Theo.

Since the end of the war, the public smearing of the Malfoy name had mostly stopped. Draco Malfoy was a respected name, and most regarded his efforts to distance himself from his father with a smidgen of courtesy. Most.

"What has you so serious, Draco?" A voice interrupted his reverie.

Draco blinked, letting the front legs of his chair touch the sun-warmed floor. "Daphne. When did you get here?"

"Minutes ago," the brunette answered, taking a seat. She observed him, taking in the carefully mussed hair and shirt. "Nice outfit."

"I could say the same for you," he replied truthfully. She was dressed in a nice green dress that, Draco noticed, was a similar shade to her eyes. Noticing his look, she blushed faintly, and Draco continued before any reporters could speculate as to why (he filed her reaction away for later contemplation). "Where's Theo?"

"No 'how-do-you-do' or 'hello,' Draco?" Daphne said, sipping her own water and leaving the slightest imprint of lipstick on the rim. "He's held up. He'll be here shortly. How are you?"

"Hello, how do you do, Daphne?" Draco said, avoiding the question.

She rolled her eyes. "Fantastic."

"Wonderful." Draco took another sip of his water, slipping his hand under the table. He flicked his wrist and his wand fell out of its holder and into his hand. With a muttered spell, he ensured that any eavesdroppers would be thwarted. "Is what Theo said true?"

"Did you…"

"Yes, it has been cast," he said, smirking. "Such faith you have in me. Now, answer the question."

Daphne sighed in irritation at his words. "Yes, it's true. Your mother has returned."

"Bloody wonderful," he groaned, dropping the spell as a waiter approached. Glancing at his menu, he ordered a chicken-pesto panini sandwich while his companion ordered a salad. As the waiter bowed and walked away, he reinstated the spell. "How do you know?"

"She sent you an owl," Daph said. At his quizzical look, she elaborated: "She sent it to your house, but your wards didn't let the owl in. It flew to Theo instead, who received the letter."

He frowned. Owls weren't supposed to have two recipients. Thankfully, the letter hadn't reached him. Merlin knows how he would have reacted. "Do you have the letter?"

"Theo is bringing it." Daphne regarded him carefully. He saw how her eyes lingered on the concealed sleep circles, as if she could see through the spell. "Draco, it had something about your…condition."

"What condition?" He played the obtuse fool.

Sharply, "Your addiction."

Draco raised a pale eyebrow. He'd only told Daphne and Theo about his strange pull to the woman. How did his mother find out about his addiction to a Muggle woman? "Who told, Daphne?

"We don't know, I assure you," she hurried to say. "I'll discuss it with you when Theo arrives—look, there he is now."

He turned in his seat to spot the once-nerdy boy navigating his way through the tables. Minutes later, Theo had joined the two and Draco had expanded the spell to fit his friend as well. "Hello, Theo."

"Hello, Draco. What did Daph tell you so far?" Theo asked, leaning back much as Draco had moments before.

Draco summarized what he knew, trying to maintain a pleasant expression. He'd been doing it all his life, and it was almost second nature, but speaking of his mother upset even him. "…and, she knew about my condition. How?"

He eyed his friend carefully. Theo didn't blink, didn't fidget or wince or blush or anything that would make Draco suspect him of telling his mother. The thought was ridiculous, anyway; Theo distrusted Mrs. Malfoy just as much as Draco now did, and hadn't contacted her in the years she was gone. He was sure of that. "I do not know."

"Do you have the letter?"

"It's here." Theo rummaged in his jacket pocket, coming up with a folded letter. Draco took it, opened it, and scanned it:

My Dearest Son, Draco, it began, and Draco clenched his fist at seeing her perfect handwriting tracing the letters of his name.

I know you must be shocked to receive a letter from me ('You don't know anything,' Draco thought angrily) but please do not make any hasty decisions. It has been five years since I've seen you last; how are you, my son? I hope you are well, wherever you are in your life. Do you have a girlfriend, wife, children?

You are angry at me, Draco, and are probably thinking it is not my place to ask you these things – not after I left you. I apologize for that, son. You do not know how much I regret leaving you after your father's arrest and madness. I could not handle being in England, and fled without a second thought. Why, you must be thinking, am I writing now?

As I am writing this, my house elf is packing my bags. I'm to leave my lovely Italian villa and come to England. This may come as a shock, but there are important things we must discuss. After that, I hope to be a permanent part of your life once more.

One example of these 'things' we must talk about is this: I'm afraid that there is a…curse upon our family. Some may call it a blessing, but we know better, don't we? I imagine that after your twenty-second birthday, things began to change. Am I right? I suspect so. You might have felt a pull, or draw, towards someone or something. You are likely worried and scared. Do not fear. It is normal for the Blacks. You must have noticed that everyone coming out of my family was, at one point, extraordinarily handsome – I remember you asking me that every thing when you were young. "Why do they look so good?" you asked me as you looked at family portraits and I replied, "It's in the family." This is true. You see, the Black bloodline stretches far back to France and Italy.

You know this very well. What I am about to tell you will come as a great surprise, but I will return and explain it all. We are Veelas, Draco, and the person you are feeling a pull to is your mate.

Eagerly awaiting the sight of your beautiful face,

Your mother.

Draco stared at the letter, before he desperately fixed his eyes on first Daphne, then Theo. "Is…" he trailed off, clenching his fist, fingers digging into his smooth skin. "This woman! How dare she? This is nonsense! She knows nothing!" Though he protested, doubts surfaced; the pull she described, the inhumane beauty of his family before the Dark Arts infected them, the family roots to France and Italy. But how dare that woman write him now, assuming she knew everything about his life when, Draco thought angrily, she didn't know shit?

Theo rested a hand on his shoulder, and Draco tensed but didn't shrug it off. "I researched it, Draco. It's entirely plausible."

Draco stood, the chair scraping the floor roughly. "That's a lie, Theo!"

"You're making a scene, Draco," Daphne said quietly, but Draco laughed coldly. His head was spinning, he was sweating, the letter was crumpled in his palm. He couldn't think, his heart beat pounding in his head, and he had to leave, he couldn't stay here.

"That's not my bloody problem," he replied, his mouth forming the words clumsily. He darted his eyes around the room, feeling as if the walls were closing in on him. He was a Veela, a bloody half-breed, no better than the damn werewolf Lupin! How could his family do this to him? He blinked, suddenly his mother's refusal to his engagement to Pansy Parkinson making perfect sense. Of course she didn't want him married off; he already had someone "made" for him. His whole life was useless, he a pawn, his very existence only formed so he could be forced to fall in love with his mate.

Draco removed the spell with a flick of his wand. "Thank you for your time, Theo, Daphne," he said, attempting to maintain an image of normality. "I have a very important meeting – I'll owl you two later with any news."

Daphne hurried to say something, but Draco didn't hear it. His ears were roaring, and he was so damn effing mad, he needed to hurt something, so he Disapparated roughly away.

He appeared in his kitchen, landing with a crash on a wooden chair that buckled under his weight. He ignored the pain in his leg, turning around and crashing his fist into the wall. "Goddammit!" Draco screamed, his voice harsh. "My whole fucking life, gone!"

He passed a hand roughly over his face, sinking to the floor. Though Draco Malfoy never cried, that is exactly what he did now.

He was useless. His life was gone. There was nothing more for him, only endless love for a Muggle woman, love that was fabricated and induced. "Don't I deserve a real life?"

No, you don't, he thought, sinking deeper and deeper down. No. You're useless, you're worthless. Nobody would ever love you of your own accord – that's; why you have a mate. How does it feel, do know you've ruined a woman's life? To be tied to you forever, without a choice…

Thursday

11:49 PM

He wouldn't go to her. It wasn't fair. She didn't deserve this life. If he had to remain his entire life in nothingness, so be it.

Friday

12:30 AM

He took a swig of firewhiskey, his eyes blurry. "Are you happy now, mother?" he asked, slurring the words. "Thi' is jus' what you wanted, innit?"

He laughed, sounding insane, the snickers loud in the empty house. He cradled the bottle to his chest after pouring more down his throat, the fiery liquor burning down his throat. Maybe he'd just die here. Yes, that sounded nice.

Saturday

Sometime in the morning

(Daphne's P.O.V)

Draco was passed out on his bed when she Apparated in his house. He'd been absent from work since Wednesday afternoon, and she'd explained away his absence and strange behavior at the restaurant by excuses of a sickness. As far as his employees knew, Draco was suffering a bad case of Dragon Pox, desperately wishing to return the work. The truth was anything but, she thought with a growl. The bloody git's suffering a bad case of 'I've-Drunk-Too-Much-But-I-Can't-Sleep.'

She'd won the rights to wake up Draco by losing a coin toss. Both Theo and Daphne loved their friend in their own way, but neither wanted to rouse a hung-over, depressed Draco. She wasn't sure what was going on his head; being a Veela couldn't be all that bad, could it? And anyway, he was only half-Veela, and a male one at that. Surely that wasn't cause for missing work? Daphne rather liked the idea of being irresistible to any guy. It had been so long since she'd been on a date…

She shook her head. Now was not the time to act so…girly, something she detested. She withdrew her wand, pointing it squarely at Draco's head. Decisions, decisions, she thought sardonically, Shall I douse him in water first, cast a Sobering charm, or set off his alarm?

She deliberated for a second, before a muttered, "Aguamenti," escaped her lips and a jet of water flooded Draco's bed. With a yell, he awoke, his head rising before he could stop himself. Daphne smirked as he spluttered, looking up, shaking his head before his eyes fixed on hers.

"Daphne! What the hell—ow, my head bloody hurts."

She winked, pointing her wand at him and casting a Sobering charm. He blinked and looked relieved, but even the charm didn't fix his lank appearance. "Gods, Draco, you look ghastly," she said, eyeing the same clothes he'd worn to the Wednesday lunch that were stained with firewhiskey. "I'll have to pick out a new outfit, now – this is awful."

Draco looked down and scowled. She smiled at him, feeling her cheeks heat up as he pouted. He was quite adorable sometimes, she thought embarrassedly. "I love you too, Daph," he growled, and she concealed the emotions that evoked in her when he said "I love you."

"You know it," she chirped instead. "Now, care to explain…this?"

He fidgeted. "Is it true?"

"Yes." Theo had confirmed it yesterday, having snitched some of Draco's hair to send it to a analyzer. He was ninety-three percent Veela, an extremely high rate.

Draco's nose crinkled. "So it is. Well, that's bloody great. Anyway, Daphne, you can go ahead and leave – I have something to do before I write my mother back."

She took a step back at the abrupt change of subject that she felt was out of character for Draco. "You're meeting her? And writing her?"

He laughed fakely. "Yes, I am. She's a liar and I don't want anything to do with her, but I have questions for her."

"Don't you want help?" Daphne questioned, brushing aside the hurt she felt at his dismissal.

"I'm perfectly capable of writing my mother," he replied, stretching. "Thank you for awakening me."

"You're…welcome," she said, taking another step back. "Er, Theo and I are here—"

"—if I need you, I am well aware of that," he said. "Now go, let me freshen myself up."

Feeling affronted, she Disapparated from his flat, appearing in her own house. What was up with him? He was so cool, so uncaring, as if he hadn't spent days drinking and ditching work. She ran her tongue against her teeth, wondering as to the cause of his behavior – of course! It was obvious!

He was planning on doing something stupid, she decided, and was distancing himself from her. He thought they would abandon him.

As if!

(Draco's POV)

As soon as his friend left, he collapsed back into bed. He felt bad about being so abrupt with her, he did, but he didn't feel up to probing questions. He needed to clear his head, and he couldn't do that with another in the area with him. After going without a sight of his beauty – mate, he corrected himself with a shudder - since Tuesday night, his head wasn't on straight. She didn't understand; Draco thought Daphne was probably jealous of his Veela genes. As if being forced into this life was a gift!

Shaking his head to clear the melancholy thoughts, Draco called out, "Tipsy!"

A house elf immediately appeared, bowing. "Yes?"

"Get me writing things, will you?" Draco ordered. The house elf bowed and disappeared, and he groaned. What was he supposed to say to his mother? "Hello, nice to hear from you after your abandonment. What's this about me being a Veela? Oh, and stay far away from me. Draco." Like that would go over well.

By the time Tipsy returned, he'd cast a Cleansing charm and had glamoured his appearance so he looked perfectly presentable. He took the parchment and quill, sitting at his desk.

Mother, he began, before crossing that out and starting again. She was no mother of his.

So you've finally returned, he wrote instead, forgoing any traditional greeting completely intentionally. It's about time, isn't it? He continued writing, scratching many things out and starting over and over until he had a short, curt message that conveyed everything he wanted his mother to know:

I have received your message. I'm doing perfectly fine here in England. I have two friends whom I am very close to. I am the head of an internationally famous company that is doing quite well. The only glitch, so to speak, in my perfect life is this curse you speak of – and your return. The first I am searching to rid myself of as soon as possible. The second grievance is more easily remediable. Apart from meetings to discuss this problem, I ask you stay far away from me. I have no mother anymore, nor am I in any need of one.

-Draco

Quite pleased with his message, he called for Tipsy once more. When she appeared, he instructed her to send this message to wherever his mother was and to bring back any reply. She disappeared to do his bidding, and he cracked his knuckles.

After nights of brooding, he'd come to one conclusion: he'd get rid of the Veela problem. There must be a way. He'd resort to removing the genes carrying the curse if he must, but he thought it didn't have to come to that. There were processes to bind magic, and who was to say there weren't spells to bind other aspects as well? His life was perfect, and he needed no pesky woman screwing it up.

Yes, this shall work quite well, he thought, and celebrated with a smile.

7:00 PM

Groaning loudly, Draco shoved the pile of books away from him. He'd been researching all day, something he detested but was necessary, and had yet to find something useful. It's not possible Veela bonds can't be broken, he reassured himself. There's no way Mother's mate was Lucius Malfoy. They weren't attracted to each other. She must've found a way.

He rubbed ink stains from his immaculate hands, frowning in dissatisfaction. He'd let himself go to rot, wearing the same clothes for days and skipping work. Luckily, the French Minister was tolerant of "diseases," and his team wasn't completely useless without him, or he'd be losing quite a large deal when he returned to work on Monday. How had he been so careless? He'd been a total workaholic after the war, he knew, but he loved his work so he didn't mind. The state he'd sunken to recently was disgraceful.

The clock in his flat over the front door chimed seven and Draco rose from his place at the library table and walked to the living room, sinking in an armchair. He'd been expecting a visit from Theo. Theo had been his friend longer than Daphne had, and the boy wasn't about to leave him alone. He wasn't looking forward to seeing Theo, but Draco knew from experience that a visit was in order.

He was right. At seven-oh-two exactly, a knock came at the door. He waved his wand to let Theo in, and heard his front door open with the slightest creak. "Draco?"

"In here," he replied. "Why are you here? You don't have to."

"Ending a sentence with a preposition? Lucius would be displeased." The man appeared in the living room doorway.

Draco hummed in defeat, making a face, though the action was childish. Theo laughed. He sat in the armchair next to Draco and asked, "Well?"

Though Draco was hesitant to share his mother's letter, he had the strange urge to confide in someone. His emotions were everywhere, and he was barely resisting the urge to visit the park, and he wanted to share his feelings? He was going insane, but was powerless to stop it. That haunting beauty of his had bewitched him without any words or indication as to her identity, and he was feeling the effects hard. "She wrote me back," he said instead of saying the thirty-three things he wanted to, handing him the letter. Theo scanned it, and Draco knew what he was reading:

Darling Dragon,

You don't know how pleased I was to receive a letter from you. I know you are furious, but may we talk tomorrow at noon at Malfoy Manor? I love you greatly, and miss you very much. I hope tomorrow we can sort things out, darling son.

Your Loving Mother.

It was even shorter than his, but the sickening opening and closing ("Darling Dragon" and "Your Loving Mother") nauseated him. Theo raised an eyebrow as he finished reading and looked up. "This is it?"

"Yeah," Draco sighed, "Tomorrow's the Big Day."

Theo paused, assessing his friend with shrewd eyes. "You're going?"

"Should I not?" Draco asked. "Do I have a choice?" The answer was no. He didn't have a choice, not if he wanted to get his life back.

"Your mother would never let you go back on a promise," Theo said, smiling slightly, taking a risk by mentioning Narcissa. "Remember?"

"I try not to," he sighed, banishing thoughts of his mother and him from his mind. He hated this, this uncertainty, the knowledge that with one little letter his life was turned around and stuffed through a tiny hole. All he wanted was his mother and his girl to disappear forever – though the thought of the latter caused him to clench his fist – and leave him to his business. He was happy, damn it, and didn't need this drama.

"Want me to come?" Theo asked, reclining in the armchair. He summoned a bottle of Butterbeer and took a sip, groaning loudly. "I'll lock Daph up, the bloody girl. She was pestering me all day: Go see Draco. Is he all right? Did he write to his mother? Why'd he kick me out? Does he not like me? Is he mad at me?'" Draco chuckled at Theo's impersonation, though it was certainly false.

"I doubt that," he replied, knowing Daph wasn't the type of person to openly worry about anyone. "But perhaps she wanted an excuse to be near you?"

Theo spluttered and wiped his mouth, grinning widely. Draco knew there was no way his rather pathetic insult had caused the older man to choke on a drink, but he appreciated Theo's attempt to lighten the mood. "Daph, and me? Are you insane, Draco?"

"Some do say so," he sighed, dropping the topic for the moment. He thought they would make quite a good couple – but who was he to lecture about love? The thought of love only pulled him back into his gloominess. "Ah, Theo," he groaned loudly, "This isn't bloody fair." Theo regarded his friend carefully, unsure what to make of this new mood. Draco saw him staring and shrugged. "I'm never to fall in love."

"Don't get mushy on me, now," he said with false scathing. "You don't know that."

Draco took a sip of brandy, feeling it slither down his throat. "Oh, but I do, Theodore."

"No, you don't." Draco caught him eyeing his brandy glass, as if to tear it from his pale hands, so he gripped it tighter. "Stop looking at me like that, Theo."

"You're acting odd, Draco, and this letter from your mother isn't helping."

Draco gulped the rest of his brandy and poured himself some more. It was a bad idea to get drunk, again, but he'd cast a Sobering charm before drinking so he hoped he wouldn't repeat the experience. "I'm a bloody Veela, Theo. I was researching all day. You can't break the Veela bond."

"Is that such a bad thing? Now you know someone will take you. God bless her," he teased, lifting his glass in the air.

Theo's attempt to cheer Draco didn't work. "Yes, but she's with me because she was born to be with me, and I her. It's not like there's a choice involved." He kept quiet about his hopes to break the bond, as he didn't wish to be disappointed. Theo wouldn't hesitate to shoot down those ideas if they weren't to work, and he thought he could at least entertain such thoughts for a little while.

"Well, it's true love then, isn't it?" Theo said, his brow furrowing. Looking at him, Draco could almost see him hunched over stacks of books in the library, pushing up his glasses with one finger and scanning the thick tomes. Back when Draco shunned him for his unpopularity, he'd often joked Theodore and Granger ought to become a couple, so they could live among books together.

"Hardly. It's more like forced love," he said despondently. It was stupid to get worked up about this, but he'd always thought he had the option to fall in love or not. He had no choice, now. Veelas couldn't live without their mates (although my mother managed it, he reminded himself) so it wasn't like he could ignore his genes and go about his life like before.

Theo shrugged. "Not to be callous, Draco, but I can hardly suggest anything now. Though, I do have an idea." Draco waved his hand, indicating the older boy to continue. "Hire a Ministry Researcher, pay him tons of money, and find out more."

"They have Ministry Researchers?" Draco asked, not bothering to conceal a conceited smirk. Why would anyone want to sit around all day and research things, even for money?

"Yes, don't make fun, Draco," he huffed. "I was considering the job."

Draco's eyebrow rose. "But you enjoy working as a whatever-you-do for Sleeping Dragon better, correct?"

"Yes, I PR for you – do you know what that means?" Theo said sarcastically, rolling his eyes. "Public Relations, which contributed largely to your success."

"PR," Draco snorted. "I swear I hired you as a message-boy for a galleon an hour."

"You did."

"Why are you 'PRing' now, then?"

"You also promoted me, or at least signed the contract of my promotion," Theo said with a smirk, knowing perfectly well Daphne had gotten the contract signed one night when Draco was drunk and sleep deprived.

"Bloody conspiracy." Draco huffed, running a finger along his glass. He looked at the brandy bottle, wrinkled his nose in distaste, and stood to rummage through his drink cabinet for something a little more fruity, to sweeten his mood, as Daphne would say.

"Yes," Theo replied, watching Draco pull out a few bottles and a metal cylinder. "A margarita, this early? Have you had dinner?"

"Not planning on it," he replied, not hungry in the slightest, "And margaritas are magnificent. Shut up. Do you want one?"

"I'm planning on dinner, thanks," Theo said, standing as well. "Do you have anything to eat?"

"Are you planning on staying here tonight?" Draco snorted. "Don't."

"Yes, I am," he said anyway, opening the living room door. "Daph insisted she stayed, but I rather thought you wouldn't appreciate that. So you're stuck with me."

"Damn," he groaned, pointing his wand at his margarita maker. He said, "On, bloody thing," and the metal container began to shake vigorously. Theo slipped from the room and Draco poured himself the icy drink, going back to his armchair. It froze his teeth and his brain, but the taste also made him think of happier times on the beach, sitting in the sand. Well, not actually in the sand (he hated being covered with the stuff) but close enough.

"What are you planning to do tomorrow?" Theo walked back in, a tray of dinner in his hands.

"Hex the old lady once for good measure, then listen to what she has to say," he answered, completely truthfully.

"That's not funny."

"I rather thought it was," he said, and ended the discussion before it even began.

8:49

Draco was drunk. Theo was not.

At least, that was what Draco claimed when he failed to hear somebody dismantling his wards. Theo, who was half asleep, tensed and withdrew his wand but said nothing. He had a suspicion as to who it was, and he didn't want to rouse Draco from his plight of self pity.

Now, Draco was a fast draw. He could beat Theo and Daphne at any fight, even without a wand and two-against-one, and all three knew it. Living with the Dark Lord germinated those types of reflexes and magic ability. However, he had a very low tolerance for alcohol, and so the buzz in his head was pleasantly drowning off all other noises. So, when Daphne Greengrass appeared in his living room brandishing a wand, it took him nearly five seconds to respond with a Stupefy.

She dropped to the floor, but Theo revived her immediately. "Bloody hell, Draco," he started, before Daphne stood over him.

"What the bloody hell is your problem, you paranoid bastard?" Daphne cursed at him, making him wince. His head was pounding. She cast a Sobering charm, grimacing, as it didn't work. "You've been drinking to much…Soberis. Soberis!"

Theo's eyebrows went up as it took three more Sobering charms to revive Draco from his drunken daze. "You were that out of it, and you still dropped Daphne?" Theo snickered, slapping his friend on the back. "My kind of man."

Draco waited for the inevitable comment from Daphne – a rather weak "A madman, more like!" – and groaned. "What are you doing here?"

"Rescuing you from the pits of hell and self-pity," Daphne said sharply. "Let me guess, you whined about lost love and drunk yourself into a stupor."

"Leave," he said grouchily, ignoring her accurate prediction, "Nobody wants you here."

"You sound like a disgruntled first year," Daphne scolded. Draco opened his mouth to protest, but she held up one hand. "I'll leave as soon as we plan what you are saying when you meet with your mother. It's Sunday, correct?"

"Yes, tomorrow; what do you suggest?" Draco shoved aside his annoyance at his friend in favor of doing some good Slytherin planning.

"Make it a business meeting," Theo said instantly. He might appear anti-social and more interested in books than people, but he was observant, and he knew a lot about interactions. "She'll try to make it sentimental; don't let her."

"Theo told me about the Ministry Researcher idea, and I procured a list of the top researchers and their profiles – here you are." Daphne produced the list out of somewhere and handed it to Draco, and the three got down to various scheming and plotting: what they did best.