Thirteen. Attending Pureblood Weddings.

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You have the right to kill me, guys. I am serious. I am hating not being able to write.

Sometimes Draco wished he wasn't so nice to his mother. Being nice and polite to her just meant being trapped in whatever plan she was currently occupied with.

On a nice Saturday, he had thought of checking up on his mother since she had not written to him ever since she had come back from her vacation. He headed to the Manor right after his breakfast and now, he was regretting his visit so bloody much. His mother was bothering him to attend a wedding of a 'beloved' friend's son the next day and asking him to bring a date, as if doing one was not enough. He shuddered at the thought of being in a room full of purebloods.

"Mother, how many times do I have to tell you that I am not interested in socializing with all of those people? Why don't you ever understand?" he reasoned for the millionth time.

"Draco, I don't care about your interests, you've got to do your duties," she said blankly.

"Oh yes, thanks for reminding me, I think my duty is to be a good student right now, and not attend pureblood weddings," he said.

"You also have certain duties as the Malfoy heir, Draco. Moreover, there will be other people in attendance," she replied.

"Like who, mother? All our old pureblood friends?" he said with contempt.

"I think Hermione is going to be there." His mother now looked at him with some interest.

"Um, okay, good for her, I suppose," he muttered.

"Draco, you have to attend this wedding, even if I have to hex you for that."

"Thanks for the love, mother," he replied and sat down on an armchair. "I don't care who's going to be there, okay? I won't fucking go to the fucking wedding." She looked positively murderous at that.

"How many times do I have to tell you to not abuse in front of me? You are coming to the wedding and bringing a date."

"I am not getting a date, mother, I don't have anyone I can bring," he said. He had given up on the previous argument since there seemed no point in arguing with his stubborn mother.

"Why don't you ask Hermione?" his mother said casually.

"What! Mother, I just can't ask Hermione. Are you out of your mind?"

"Why, what's wrong with her?"

"Nothing's, well, nothing's wrong with her, but I bloody well can't just ask Hermione, can I?" he said sounding like a fool.

"Why not? I thought you liked her," she said with a smile.

"What! I, um, who even told you that?"

"No one has to tell me, Draco, I am your mother, I can figure it out. Why can't you ask her?"

"Well, for one, she's Hermione Granger, and two, she might have a date," he replied.

"I know for a fact that she does not have a date to the wedding," his mother said with a sly smile.

"How do you know that? Actually, sod it, I don't want to know."

"A little bird told me," she smiled. Draco just shook his head and left the room. If he was going to do this, he might as well avoid his mother by staying locked up in his room all day. After all, two could play at this game.



Next day.

Draco was bored out of his mind. Sure, he had Blaise to keep him company throughout the wedding ceremony, but now his best friend was too busy dancing with one of the bridesmaids. God, he hated weddings. He maintained a collected look despite being irritated because his mother had already noticed him scowling more than two times. Honestly, that woman is like a hawk, he thought sipping on his third (or was it fourth?) glass of champagne.

"Hey, there!" he heard Hermione say as she sat on the barstool next to his. "Why are you sulking?"

"Well, because I'd rather die than be here," he replied before downing his drink. "What about you? You look like you are having fun," he smirked. She had been dancing with a young French Quidditch player.

"I am! However, you look like you need a dance. Come on, Draco, we are dancing," she said tugging on his jacket sleeve.

"No, Grangie, I am not a dance person," he protested but letting her drag him to the dance floor. A fast song was playing and most of the wedding party was gathered on the floor, so he didn't mind dancing with her. He even had fun making up silly moves, just so that he could make her laugh. After a couple of dances, both of them retired to a corner table along with Blaise.
"You are such a good dancer, Draco, and a liar," Hermione said grinning.

"Grangie, don't flatter me, I know how bad I looked out there," he replied.

"Boohoo, Draco, all of us know you took dancing lessons as a kid," Blaise said making Hermione laugh.

"Shut it, Blaise, before I tell everyone everything you did as a child," he said throwing a napkin at his best friend. "So, what's the plan now, Hermione?"

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"Where are you headed after the party?"


"Oh, I don't know, home, I guess. Why?"

"We were thinking of going to Hogsmeade for some late night shenanigans. You can join in," he said sounding hopeful.

"I don't think I have the energy to do anything now," she replied.

"Alright, the Weasleys are going to join us, and Harry."

"It does sound fun but I don't think I will join. I feel like I am dying," she said resting her feet on the opposite chair.

"Oh, Hermione, how we long to spend some time with you and you just keep breaking our hearts!" he said dramatically.

"You know me, Draco, I am such a heartbreaker. You can ask all the Quidditch player I have dated," she smirked.

"Don't I know that?" he muttered making Blaise laugh. Hermione soon left the two of them, leaving Draco's beat friend to discuss how pathetically in love he was with the witch. Unfortunately, for Blaise, Draco put a silencing spell on them for the rest of the night. Fortunately, for him, there were no reporters around this late into the wedding party or else he was sure there would have been an article in the Prophet the next morning. But throughout the night he had one constant thought going through his mind, and that was that he needed to do something about (or to) Blaise Zabini, his so-called best friend.

Hope you liked this and hate me less after this. It's a long weekend here so I might another chapter. Or for All That Jazz. Have a good day/night!

Love,
M.

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