Narcissa Malfoy Apparated to the foyer, grumbling husband in tow, to search out her elusive son. She was determined to make an appearance today and nothing would stop her. Having contemplated all week with Molly, they had finally come up with a plan. Phase one would begin today and she sure as certain would not disappoint on her end of the bargain.
Draco was situated in his study, a glass of Ogden’s best on the edge of the desk. Lillian and Asher had departed moments before with his former least favorite Weasley and his snippy, overbearing wife, Mrs. Weasley nee Granger. For the life of him, he never understood what Weasley saw in her. She could drive a saint to drink. Draco had never considered himself a saint, far from it actually. For that reason alone he felt fully justified in his half-noon foray into the land of whiskey and wallowing. However, his somewhat induced bliss was interrupted with a loud and quite familiar…
“Draco Lucius Malfoy! How could you?”
Now the headache began. He looked down at the tumbler in his hand and instantly regretted his decision to make his home accessible to all family members. “It will be wonderful,” she had said. “For the children’s safety,” she had said. Apparently, the children’s safety consisted of random and unwarranted visits from one overbearing Narcissa Malfoy.
Here he was again, another Weasley family gathering. Lord how these took their toll. How people could breed so rapidly was beyond him. It seemed every year the number of redheads grew exponentially. He had thought to send the children along with one of their many aunts or uncles so that he might side-step another Weasley family fiasco; however, his mother had thought differently. His own mother, a traitor.
Looking around at the chaos before him, Draco immediately began to search out a head of blond amongst the crowd. Asher was not that hard to misplace seeing as he stood out in any situation, whether it was for his trademark Malfoy locks or his rapid change of moods. He could be quiet and subtle or loud and obnoxious depending on which way the wind was blowing at that moment; a lovely trait passed down by his lovely mother.
He spotted his son almost instantly sitting in the lap of a tall, blonde woman he had yet to recognize. He was contemplating whether to venture over to his children or hide in a corner when his decision was made for him as he was unceremoniously hauled forth by the “traitor” (formerly known as Mother) to the awaiting blonde.
“Draco, close your mouth,” his mother commanded in her most dignified and superior tone. “This is Ms. Lovegood.”
Draco stared in utter amazement. How could this be “Loony Lovegood”? He hadn’t seen her in years. All he remembered of her was the friendship she had shared with his Ginevra during her Hogwarts years. She had become an attractive women, he’d give her that, but no more.
She eyed him curiously as Asher prattled on about this and that. Mrs. Weasley had graciously invited her to this Sunday’s family dinner for some nefarious reason of her own of which she wasn’t quite sure. Ten years had passed since she had seen Ginny, or Draco for that matter. Luna had never intended to stay away for so long. Circumstance, and a bit of luck, had given her the excuse she needed to leave the war-torn country.
Asher began to demand more attention from his new acquaintance; he commanded an audience wherever he was. It wasn’t until this point that Draco finally realized the topic of their conversation. She had been speaking of Ginevra. This one subject was never discussed in the Malfoy home. In the beginning he’d tried to speak of her, but the thought of losing his famed control in front of the children had always resulted in a change of topic.
Mrs. Malfoy and her partner-in-crime, Mrs. Weasley, sat patiently in a corner waiting for phase two of their master plan to begin. They had both been good on their end of the deal and anxiously anticipated the fruits of their labor. However, the fruits soon spoiled as a very discrete “ahem” could be heard behind them.
Lillian Malfoy was too smart for her own good. Every inch of her screamed Weasley, but in truth she was a Malfoy, right down to that infamous smirk that now graced her dainty features. She had a way of laying the guilt on anyone she deemed deserving. Severus himself wouldn’t go near her for fear of apologizing for something he considered to be absolutely nothing. This skill, Narcissa was loath to admit, came directly from her side of the family, and never had she imagined in all her “ahem” forty-five years of living that her perfect granddaughter would use it against her.
“I do hope you aren’t trying to replace my mummy with someone so wholly undeserving as that.”
There it was, that sinking feeling one gets in the pit of their stomach after having been caught in the act of treachery. Lillian knew she had succeeded in thwarting their efforts for the time being. Her father didn’t need the world's most infamous busybodies playing matchmaker. She made her graceful exit and continued on her way to the kitchen knowing that her small victory would be short-lived.
Draco had finally closed his mouth and excused himself, making his way towards the back of the house. He contemplated the possibility of making an unnoticed attempt to leave. They would surely hunt him down if he tried. Between the two of them, his mother and Molly Weasley were a force to be reckoned with. He finally decided the upstairs would be his best bet. He made his way up the old rickety steps, careful not to make a sound. With a silent prayer to every deity he could think of, he held his breath and opened the first door he came to.
Sod the deities, sod them all. He had stepped into a room adorned from ceiling to floor in nothing but pink frills. His breath caught in his throat and his stomach immediately began to revolt. Try as he might to hold it in, the famous Malfoy control was about to fall. The world was surely against him, he realized that now. As he sat down on the four-poster bed complete with pink lace and little red roses, memories began to flood his mind. They were horribly happy memories of a time long past, a time he was loath to remember now.
~*~
It was twilight and her parents had retired for the evening. The day boasted happiness and celebration for The Dark Lord had been killed and Harry “Sodding” Potter had saved the day just as everyone knew he would. After the parties and reuniting with loved ones, everyone was exhausted. The war had dealt a heavy blow to the side of Light and they were only just recovering.
They had quietly slipped up to her room, unnoticed by the many throngs of family and friends. He remembered her embarrassment at the childish features of her tiny room. The pink in no way described her character. He had been nervous at first, though he never showed it. The thought of her six brothers walking in on them would have sent a lesser wizard running. She looked radiant in a plain cotton sundress. Her hair had been swept up in a messy pile atop her head. He couldn’t remember her ever looking as lovely as she did at that moment. There wasn’t an ounce of fear in her eyes even though most girls, he knew, would be afraid at the prospect of their first time. She trusted him completely and the warmth that filled him entirely from knowing this was a feeling he longed to recapture.
Draco was situated in his study, a glass of Ogden’s best on the edge of the desk. Lillian and Asher had departed moments before with his former least favorite Weasley and his snippy, overbearing wife, Mrs. Weasley nee Granger. For the life of him, he never understood what Weasley saw in her. She could drive a saint to drink. Draco had never considered himself a saint, far from it actually. For that reason alone he felt fully justified in his half-noon foray into the land of whiskey and wallowing. However, his somewhat induced bliss was interrupted with a loud and quite familiar…
“Draco Lucius Malfoy! How could you?”
Now the headache began. He looked down at the tumbler in his hand and instantly regretted his decision to make his home accessible to all family members. “It will be wonderful,” she had said. “For the children’s safety,” she had said. Apparently, the children’s safety consisted of random and unwarranted visits from one overbearing Narcissa Malfoy.
Here he was again, another Weasley family gathering. Lord how these took their toll. How people could breed so rapidly was beyond him. It seemed every year the number of redheads grew exponentially. He had thought to send the children along with one of their many aunts or uncles so that he might side-step another Weasley family fiasco; however, his mother had thought differently. His own mother, a traitor.
Looking around at the chaos before him, Draco immediately began to search out a head of blond amongst the crowd. Asher was not that hard to misplace seeing as he stood out in any situation, whether it was for his trademark Malfoy locks or his rapid change of moods. He could be quiet and subtle or loud and obnoxious depending on which way the wind was blowing at that moment; a lovely trait passed down by his lovely mother.
He spotted his son almost instantly sitting in the lap of a tall, blonde woman he had yet to recognize. He was contemplating whether to venture over to his children or hide in a corner when his decision was made for him as he was unceremoniously hauled forth by the “traitor” (formerly known as Mother) to the awaiting blonde.
“Draco, close your mouth,” his mother commanded in her most dignified and superior tone. “This is Ms. Lovegood.”
Draco stared in utter amazement. How could this be “Loony Lovegood”? He hadn’t seen her in years. All he remembered of her was the friendship she had shared with his Ginevra during her Hogwarts years. She had become an attractive women, he’d give her that, but no more.
She eyed him curiously as Asher prattled on about this and that. Mrs. Weasley had graciously invited her to this Sunday’s family dinner for some nefarious reason of her own of which she wasn’t quite sure. Ten years had passed since she had seen Ginny, or Draco for that matter. Luna had never intended to stay away for so long. Circumstance, and a bit of luck, had given her the excuse she needed to leave the war-torn country.
Asher began to demand more attention from his new acquaintance; he commanded an audience wherever he was. It wasn’t until this point that Draco finally realized the topic of their conversation. She had been speaking of Ginevra. This one subject was never discussed in the Malfoy home. In the beginning he’d tried to speak of her, but the thought of losing his famed control in front of the children had always resulted in a change of topic.
Mrs. Malfoy and her partner-in-crime, Mrs. Weasley, sat patiently in a corner waiting for phase two of their master plan to begin. They had both been good on their end of the deal and anxiously anticipated the fruits of their labor. However, the fruits soon spoiled as a very discrete “ahem” could be heard behind them.
Lillian Malfoy was too smart for her own good. Every inch of her screamed Weasley, but in truth she was a Malfoy, right down to that infamous smirk that now graced her dainty features. She had a way of laying the guilt on anyone she deemed deserving. Severus himself wouldn’t go near her for fear of apologizing for something he considered to be absolutely nothing. This skill, Narcissa was loath to admit, came directly from her side of the family, and never had she imagined in all her “ahem” forty-five years of living that her perfect granddaughter would use it against her.
“I do hope you aren’t trying to replace my mummy with someone so wholly undeserving as that.”
There it was, that sinking feeling one gets in the pit of their stomach after having been caught in the act of treachery. Lillian knew she had succeeded in thwarting their efforts for the time being. Her father didn’t need the world's most infamous busybodies playing matchmaker. She made her graceful exit and continued on her way to the kitchen knowing that her small victory would be short-lived.
Draco had finally closed his mouth and excused himself, making his way towards the back of the house. He contemplated the possibility of making an unnoticed attempt to leave. They would surely hunt him down if he tried. Between the two of them, his mother and Molly Weasley were a force to be reckoned with. He finally decided the upstairs would be his best bet. He made his way up the old rickety steps, careful not to make a sound. With a silent prayer to every deity he could think of, he held his breath and opened the first door he came to.
Sod the deities, sod them all. He had stepped into a room adorned from ceiling to floor in nothing but pink frills. His breath caught in his throat and his stomach immediately began to revolt. Try as he might to hold it in, the famous Malfoy control was about to fall. The world was surely against him, he realized that now. As he sat down on the four-poster bed complete with pink lace and little red roses, memories began to flood his mind. They were horribly happy memories of a time long past, a time he was loath to remember now.
~*~
It was twilight and her parents had retired for the evening. The day boasted happiness and celebration for The Dark Lord had been killed and Harry “Sodding” Potter had saved the day just as everyone knew he would. After the parties and reuniting with loved ones, everyone was exhausted. The war had dealt a heavy blow to the side of Light and they were only just recovering.
They had quietly slipped up to her room, unnoticed by the many throngs of family and friends. He remembered her embarrassment at the childish features of her tiny room. The pink in no way described her character. He had been nervous at first, though he never showed it. The thought of her six brothers walking in on them would have sent a lesser wizard running. She looked radiant in a plain cotton sundress. Her hair had been swept up in a messy pile atop her head. He couldn’t remember her ever looking as lovely as she did at that moment. There wasn’t an ounce of fear in her eyes even though most girls, he knew, would be afraid at the prospect of their first time. She trusted him completely and the warmth that filled him entirely from knowing this was a feeling he longed to recapture.
Author notes: Hoped you liked it so far. The next chapter will be up this weekend if all goes well. Please review.
To Be Continued.
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