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DRACO SHOULD HAVE KNOWN THERE WERE ULTERIOR MOTIVES. A bloody ball, his mother had said, for your birthday. He was too old for balls. His parents had never showed interest in celebrating his birthday before. Draco should have known Mother had something else up her sleeve. She was Slytherin, a Malfoy.
Draco refused to think that somewhere, deep inside, the tiny pale haired boy had thought that maybe, just maybe, his parents had cared. Even for a fleeting second, they'd cared enough to honor his coming into the world. He was their child. Their only child. He'd pursued their dreams for him relentlessly, the kind of ambitious behavior only a Slytherin, a Malfoy could possess. He'd thrown aside happiness and an easy life the day he'd chosen to bear the weight of the Malfoy name.
But Draco was clever. He had squashed the idea down as quickly as it came.
Draco shouldn't have been surprised to see the Greengrass family. His mother was true to her house name; ambitiously pushing the stupid brunette girl, Astoria (bloody hell, another pair of blue eyes) and him together. Her tactics were clear— she wanted him to marry the girl.
But Draco had no intentions to do so.
"Oh my dear, you look absolutely ravishing tonight," Mother beamed, a rare feat, at Astoria. The young girl and her parents had spent the entire night with them, much to Draco's annoyance. He'd made conversation with Arabelle and Doreen Greengrass, who he found tolerable enough. He'd ignored Astoria completely in silent anger. But not for her. For his mother. She turned to him, "Don't you think, Draco?"
Draco lazily gave Astoria a once over, his lips curling into a smirk when he caught sight of the blush on her neck. She was dressed in a ridiculous frilly green dress, and her hair was pinned up. She was pretty, he supposed, in a dull kind of way. Nothing special. "You have a good eye, Mother," Draco responded nevertheless. Astoria's blush deepened.
"Draco, where are your manners? Go, dance." Mother took his drink from him, smile strained. Arabelle smiled encouragingly at him. Draco knew he had no choice. He smiled tensely. You play a hard game, Mother.
"Take care of her," Doreen nodded at him.
Draco only sighed a little through his nose before gently taking the young girl's hand and steering her through the ballroom. He chose a spot to dance and took her waist. He pointedly stared over her head, quite moodily. They danced silently through songs, each mulling over their thoughts.
The ball was in full swing. Music flittered in the air and the guests drank and danced. Witches and wizards had discarded everyday robes and wands for polished suits and slimming attire. They'd given him gifts and birthday wishes with hints of a smile before fluttering away. Draco didn't know any of them very well— he knew their gifts were meaningless spellbooks and tricks, and their birthday wishes were simply words off the tongue. Draco knew his Mother would think it was a success. Everyone seemed to enjoying themselves quite nicely. A grand affair to chatter over breakfast before the next came along.
Draco was the only one who thought of it as a dull celebration. His mood worsened when Astoria attempted to make conversation.
"Twenty one, aren't you?" Astoria smiled a little. Her teeth were slightly crooked, and it was clear she hadn't used magic to apply her lipstick. "You look a lot older."
"It's lucky for you I'm not," Draco said dryly, glancing away from her face. "Any older and people might think you only want me for my wealth."
"What?" Astoria tried to jerk away in shock, but Draco tightened his grip on her to keep her from causing a scene. He laughed loudly to keep the couples nearby from looking too long. He didn't need his mother to return, ready to handle any damage he inflicted.
For sake of appearances, he smiled tensely and hissed between his teeth, "You stupid girl. Shut up before anywhere hears you."
When Astoria seemed to settle in a tense posture, she turned to head to the side and murmured, "I do like you, Draco. I do. Not for your wealth."
Oh, you stupid, stupid girl. How devastating for you.
"It doesn't matter if you do," Draco said slowly, closing his eyes. You are a Malfoy. Then he snapped them open and wiped his face clear of any sympathy, looking over her head again. "My mother will see us married before long."
Astoria didn't reply. Draco didn't bother to comfort her. The music ended, and they drew away. Astoria and Mother spent the evening whispering away, and Draco tucked himself into a corner, unwilling to speak or look at anyone. He kept an impassive composure and remained emotionless. Just as a Malfoy should be.
It wasn't until he caught sight of a mop of unruly black hair did Draco feel his breath hitch.
