Nine
Under the safety of blankets and bedsheets, two kids lay, heads together. It was the eve of Draco's eleventh birthday and Lorelei had snuck into his room and they'd promise to stay up until the sun rose. They were waiting for something. A bird. An owl. Anything that would appear with Draco's acceptance letter. He was going to Hogwarts. They both knew it.
Lorelei's birthday had passed a few months prior and on that day, they found out that she wasn't going to be coming with him. No owl. No Hogwarts stamp. Nothing.
Vivian and Leland were more disappointed than surprised. Deep down, they had a gut feeling, perhaps they had already known since she was born. Lorelei's eleventh birthday only solidified the fact that she was unmistakably, a Squib. There were no tears that day, only whispers, only congratulating Lorelei's older twin sister: Daphne, for her own letter.
The secret of Lorelei's situation was hidden within the Greengrass Family, not even any of their close friends knew about it. Why should they? It was no one's business but their own.
Lorelei looked to her side and found herself met with Draco's wonderful side profile. Barely eleven, Lorelei thought, and he already seemed like a Greek god. He was made of the same stuff she read about in books.
"What do you want to do when you get older?" Lorelei hummed the question as she twiddled with the loose sheets, thinking of her own answer. She didn't need to think for long. "I want to work in St Mungo's,"
Draco knew this. He knew everything about her.
He debated on whether to tell her what he wanted to do. He knew it'd make her blush so, he did. He wanted to see her cheeks glow red.
"When I get older, I wanna get married,"
Lorelei shifts. "You wanna get married? With who?" You couldn't blame a girl for being curious, could you?
Draco's proud grin – the size of the world – said it all.
"I think you know her,"
"Do I?" Lorelei answered, absolutely clueless. "Oh, if you say Daph, just know that she doesn't have a crush. She never talks about love, I'm convinced she wants absolutely nothing to do with it. No? Is it Astoria then? She's so little–!"
"Lorrie!" Draco laughs. He's clutching his stomach and kicking his feet.
"What!" Lorelei laughs back, exasperated. She searches his eyes behind the laughter and slowly, a blush creeps up her cheeks. "Ha ha, very funny. You're a dog, you know that?" Mission accomplished. Lorelei tried to sound as uninterested and unaffected as possible, despite the redness biting her features. Under the covers, Draco shined the flashlight into Lorelei's face and the blush creeps up to her ears. She shoves it away and Draco laughs even more.
"Oh, I'll marry you alright," Draco chuckled, collecting himself. He sounded like a salesman, determined, overly confident. "And we'll have children. Of course, you can decide how many we'll have, but I'll be happy with anything, even if you don't want a single one,"
Lorelei brought her hands up to hide her face as Draco laughed under the sheets. It was too easy.
"Well, that's impossible!" Lorelei huffed, it was stuffy all of a sudden and Lorelei wouldn't have been surprised if she looked like a tomato. She covered her face with her hands. Draco stopped laughing, a serious expression gracing his features.
"Impossible?" He asked. Lorelei uncovers her face and nods. It's a sad thing, tragic. Her eyebrows upturned and her head tilted like she was about to tell him one of the peafowls had passed away or that Dobby had fallen ill again.
"I'm a Squib, Draco," she said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Draco was confused, he knew what a Squib was, and he knew that they would never be the same. But, he didn't understand why that mattered. "Your parents would never let you marry me, especially your father. Not in a gazillion years,"
There was silence and finally, Draco sighed. The world was a stupid place, always telling children what they should and shouldn't do.
"I would still marry you, though. If you'd let me,"
"You don't need to lie for me,"
Draco furrows his eyebrows. "I'm not. You want me to promise?"
Lorelei huffed, shoving his shoulders as Draco erupted into a burst of laughter. It dies down quickly and Lorelei sees that the expression on his face is still serious. He has his pinky out, ready.
Lorelei shook her head, a grin settling on her face. "What happens if you break the promise?" She asks.
Draco could only smile as their pinkies intertwined. "I don't break my promises,"
The minute everyone had returned to the Manor, Narcissa ushered them into the dining room for dinner. Lorelei does not touch the food in front of her. Neither she nor Draco does. They simply watch, clinking their cutlery against porcelain, tricking their mothers into thinking they're eating when they're not. Daphne and Astoria are chewing away, but all Lorelei can think about is how her stomach has disappeared. It's as if Voldemort has stolen it, and the Dark Mark on her hand will not allow her to look for it. From across the table, Lorelei notices Draco missing his stomach too.
They have been sharing glances for the entire night. Consuming only each other's shared fears; the awkwardness does not leave the room, only it has been cemented right in the centre.
When someone kicks Lorelei's foot, she is brought back to reality. She notices the conversation around her and finally hears its words. Narcissa is talking.
"Have the both of you had an opportunity to communicate with one another about your plans for the mission?" She inquires, noticing that Lorelei's attention is on her. Lorelei stops fiddling with the fork in her hand and raises her head to Draco. He doesn't look at her, as he takes a sip of his drink, eyes shut. Traitor. He expects her to answer.
"I, we–" Lorelei fumbles. Her tongue decides that now is the perfect moment it should stop working. Fortunately, Vivian's gentle voice from the other end of the table captures everyone's attention.
"Narcissa," She says in the tone Lorelei has heard her use with her father. Stern, warning, yet still gentle enough to have class. "Not during dinner," The order masks itself as a plea.
"Thank you, Mrs Greengrass," Draco says, not skipping a beat. Lorelei eyes him carefully, the way his ears perk, the way he plays with the glass in his hand. He's up to something. "I feel I speak for all of us when I say that we really ought to discuss something else,"
His plate is still full, touched but uneaten.
The clatter of metal on plates twists everyone's attention onto Astoria. She has stopped eating and sends her mother a sheepish look before fluttering her eyes in Draco's direction. "Ask them about the arrangement thing," she suggests, giving Draco a knowing smirk. He returns it. Oh, so those two have been conspiring behind our backs.
"Arrangement?" Narcissa asks, there's a waver to her voice. She and Vivian share a look, one all the children take note of. It makes Lorelei wonder, how many arrangements does her mother not tell them about, that she hides behind her back?
"Draco? Darling, care to explain?" Vivian asks, tilting her head ever so slightly. She sets her cutlery down.
"From what I understand, Mrs Greengrass… you're well aware of what we're implying," Draco answers.
"I am afraid not–"
"The one about Daphne and Draco!" Astoria cries gently, her impatience getting the best of her. Lorelei's eyes snap towards Daphne who looks at nothing but the plate in front of her. Look up. Look at me! All she does is continue eating silently, choosing ignorance instead of engagement. Discomfort colonises her limbs.
"What about them?" Vivian asks, turning her attention onto Astoria. She looks back and forth between the two teenagers, eyes occasionally sliding in Lorelei's direction – she pretends not to notice.
"The arranged marriage," Narcissa says casually and continues eating her steak in miniature-sized chunks.
"Ah," Vivian sighs, leaning back into the chair. "I suppose you are all aware of the conversation Narcissa and I have had, then? Which one of you was it?"
"Me," Draco says without hesitation. His facade doesn't waver and Lorelei wonders how long it took him to learn how to lie properly. He was always so shit at keeping secrets when they were little. "I was wondering when you were going to discuss it with us."
"As soon as Daphne's father tells us that he's agreed to follow through with it," Narcissa answers. The world shifts off its axis.
"What!" Daphne yells. She slams her cutlery against the table. "Mother, you cannot allow this! What you're talking about is absolutely bloody outrageous! To hell with an arranged marriage, what you're putting us into is a forced marriage!"
Draco hums. His eyebrows are twitching to furrow. "I must admit, I do not support this idea myself,"
"At least let them choose if they want to marry each other, Mother," Lorelei pipes up. Vivian sends her a questioning glance. Her eyelashes batting in the way of someone knowing something you don't. "It's restricting when you're planning without even considering where they stand in the first place,"
"I'm not agreeing to this–" Daphne adds but Narcissa cuts her off.
"It is not restricting whatsoever, Lucius and I were an arranged marriage ourselves," Narcissa stares, a sourness lingering in her expression. "I can't see how this arrangement won't work the same for Daphne and Draco,"
Because she can't.
"Mrs Malfoy," Lorelei begins slowly. She pulls her sleeves up and the snake makes an appearance. It stains her, a distraction, a reminder, a threat. It's all anyone can look at. Draco's mark tingles at the sight of the black ink on her skin. Lorelei leans as if she's about to tell a story. "Just because you and Mr Malfoy love each other, and just because you happened to be married by arrangement, doesn't mean that the same thing will happen here. I mean no disrespect, but sometimes people don't want to force love for the sake of maintaining a pure bloodline."
As soon as Lorelei finishes her sentence, Draco gets up. The sound of his chair scraping against the floor reverberates throughout the entire room. It travels up the ceiling and rings endlessly in Lorelei's ears. It sends goosebumps down her spine and her attention shifts towards him. He's seething, burning from an invisible rage only she can see.
Narcissa is speechless. Lorelei has stolen her voice. She has taken her whole life, everything she has ever known and deconstructed and rebuilt it into something she no longer recognises. Maybe she never really recognised it in the first place. Maybe she was still trying to convince herself of the lie.
"Excuse us, Mother, Mrs Greengrass," Draco says, nodding to everyone at the table. Narcissa doesn't respond. No one does. Draco turns his eyes to Lorelei's figure. She tenses, unmoving because she feels like his gaze is holding her, tight in an accusing grasp she cannot escape. He looks like her father when he's mad.
"Lorelei," he calls, his voice low. When she reads his eyes she understands that she needs to get up and follow him. Without hesitation, it is exactly what she does.