Fool

Daphne was sitting in the Cauldron, glaring at her drink. She had been doing that for a while now, yet the liquid in her glass was still untouched. She hadn't come here to drink, she'd come here to glare, and glaring was much easier while being sober.

She'd also come here to meet her friend Millicent, who arrived fashionably late and in considerably better spirits. Daphne did not look up as she took a seat at the table, calling out a greeting. It didn't take Millicent much time to appraise the situation, and she waited silently until her own drink arrived. Then she took a sip of it, and remarked,

"I suggest that you commence with the ranting. Otherwise I might decide you'd much rather be left to glare on alone."

Daphne glanced up at her friend, considering the words that had been spoken. She then pushed her glass a little away, resting her elbows on the table and her chin upon her palms, exchanging the glare for deep pouting.

"That bad, huh?" Millicent prompted.

"Have you read the paper today?" Daphne eventually asked.

"Skimmed it, yes. You could be a little more specific, though."

"Can't you guess?" Daphne said, sounding annoyed that Millicent hadn't.

"If you're referring to a certain piece of news concerning a propo…"

"Argh!" Daphne groaned. "Must you always speak like that?"

"Like what?" Millicent asked, mainly amused.

"You know what I mean," she said. "I have no patience for your pretty speeches."

"No, I suppose not," Millicent spoke, narrowing her eyes. She could comment about her own patience pertaining to Daphne's foul mood, but she decided to be generous. For now.

"Alright," she said flatly, "Could this possibly… I mean… is this about Astoria and Draco?"

Daphne replied with a possibly affirmative growl.

"I take it you're not happy about their upcoming nuptials?"

"Do I look happy to you?"

Millicent sat back on the chair, proceeding to consume her drink. She'd need another soon enough. After a while she shrugged,

"Some people might think you'd be happy for them. Some people might think you should be happy for them."

"Screw them," Daphne said.

"You're more peeved about this than I'd have thought," Millicent said, frowning. She searched for a possible explanation for Daphne's reaction to what one might call good news, and went with the first that came to her mind, however unlikely.

"If you want him for yourself, you can always break them apart."

One look at Daphne and Millicent knew she had guessed right. Well, well, think about that. Millicent sipped her drink and thought about it. For years Daphne and Draco had been friends. Just friends. She wasn't aware of them being anything more than that, and she was pretty sure that nothing of the kind had happened, or else she would have heard something of it from Daphne. Being friends, the two had spent some time together, paying each other visits, and being her sister, Astoria had often joined their company, and it wasn't long before meetings of an entirely different kind had started to take place between the Malfoy heir and the younger Greengrass.

During their very public courtship, Millicent had never got an impression from Daphne of her disliking the match. She had regarded it as a bit of an annoyance, because Draco had abandoned her for her sister, and didn't have much time for Daphne. But she had never guessed that Daphne's indignation went any deeper than that, or that she was bothered by anything else than a temporary loss of a friend.

"I had no idea you've harboured feelings of such kind," Millicent remarked. "Or is this a recent development?"

"You mean, am I coveting him now just because I cannot have him?" Daphne shrugged. "No, I don't think so. I always thought we would end up together. I failed to recognize Tori as my rival."

"You cannot really wonder about his choice. She is the younger, prettier, livelier version of yourself, as you have often told me."

Daphne only glared at her in reply, possibly acknowledging the truth in this.

"Of course, you thought he had sweeter feelings for you," Millicent continued ruthlessly. "You thought that he was getting to know you, and falling in love with you in the course of it. But instead he caught a glimpse of your sister, and took a fancy for her, and though you never suspected it at the time, he might have used you as an excuse for seeing your sister."

"If you keep talking like that," Daphne growled, "I'm going to take this drink and throw it to your face."

Millicent shrugged. "You may do as you like. But I was simply reading your mind and I am done now. Besides, I'm not the one that stole Draco Malfoy from you."

"Stupid, stupid, stupid," Daphne berated herself. "I should have seen the threat that Tori posed to me. I should have snatched him for myself when there was no agreement between them."

"Why didn't you?"

"Because she was clever. She told me there was nothing serious between them, that they were merely friends, and she made me believe that he was using her to get closer to me, while in truth it was exactly the other way around."

"So she knew that you liked him?" Millicent asked.

"She knew I was flattered by the thought of him liking me," Daphne replied. "I don't think she knew any more than that."

"But is there really any more than that?"

"Would I be here, glaring daggers at my drink, if there weren't?" Daphne retorted.

"It may be indignation at being ill-used by him," Millicent offered. "Think about it, Daphne. Do you really wish to be the Malfoy bride, with all the weight that is attached to such a position?"

Daphne shook her head, "Not particularly. But I do want to become Draco's wife."

"Alas, you cannot have one without the other. And is the delight of one really worth suffering the other?"

"You make it sound like a great evil."

"Isn't it?" Millicent asked. "It's worse than having to marry Harry Potter."

Daphne stared at her, absently reaching for her drink, "How so?"

"The way I see it," Millicent explained, leaning into a comfortable position, "Draco Malfoy is to old dignified families what Harry Potter is to the rest. He's a kind of celebrity, a role model. He has to be perfect in everything he does, and since he naturally is perfect in everything he does, his wife must be completely faultless, and even then she might get all the blame. Obviously, no one is good enough to the Malfoy heir, and I'm sure they all make sure that the bride knows it."

She paused, both for the effect and to see how her recipient was taking in the story; on the other side of the table Daphne was frowning and drinking, but not yet arguing.

"And then there's the subject of ultimate importance, bloodline continuation. The whole purpose of a Malfoy wife, other than to appear indisputably impeccable, is to produce a male heir. Until she does that, she is worthless, and when she does have a child, gods help her if it's a girl. After that, she's Mrs Malfoy, the mother of the new heir, the wife of the previous one. She'll never be anything more than that. And all the time, there are people watching her every step and waiting like vultures for her to misbehave, so that they could then condemn her and feel better about their own shortcomings."

Daphne finished her drink in silence, and ordered another.

"If what you speak is true," she said quietly, "I should break up the match to save my sister from this awful fate."

"Tori's not a fool. She knows very well what she's getting into."

"So I'm the fool?" Daphne asked, playing with her empty glass.

"Yes," Millicent replied. "You are the fool. You were too much of a fool to snatch up Malfoy when he was all yours, and you're a bigger fool to want him now that he's betrothed to your sister. You had your chance and you missed it."

"I can—" Daphne started.

"Break them up? If you really believed that you could do it, you wouldn't be sitting here glaring at your drink and ranting about it, you'd be out there doing it. You are a fool, but not so big a fool to actually consider doing it, because you know it would cost you dear – you'd either lose your sister, or both of them, the affections of your family, and the respect of the polite society. But the main reason, I think, why you wouldn't do it in a million years, is that you love them both and want them to be happy."

Daphne glanced at her friend, then picked up her new drink, and emptied it in one go. Millicent followed the example, and ordered them both a refill.

"I do want them to be happy," she confessed in the middle of her third drink. "But I want me to be happy, as well."

"Who knows," Millicent remarked. "Perhaps it won't work between them. They might end up hating each other, and then you'll have your chance of swooping in and taking what you want. It's no fun being a Malfoy wife, but it might be better being a second Malfoy wife. I really wouldn't put it past him, he seems that sort of type."

Daphne nodded, and stared moodily at the table.

"That's really bad advice," she finally spoke, fixing Millicent with a half-drunken gaze.

"Yes," Millicent agreed, smirking, "It is."