What Do A Lion And A Wolf Share?

An Inquisition Over Brunch

Draco Malfoy laid in bed, staring at the ceiling as still, pale, and unblinking as a cadaver. While he was typically an early riser, today he allowed the sun to fill his room, his only response pulling the green comforter higher. Draco was not one to avoid a problem. Usually he would analyze it, strategize around it, and attack it carefully with several backup options. This was a learned skill, as his base nature was reactive and impulsive, a blond volcano of anger constantly on the verge of eruption. If his father did one positive thing for Draco, it was to ensure he understood the benefit of patience. Today's opponents, however, were far more resolute in their mission than Draco was willing to endure.

The crack of apparition echoed in his bare room. "Good morning Tippy," he greeted the house elf without moving.

"Good morning Lord Malfoy. The Mistress is being requesting you at breakfast." He internally cursed the cheer in the elf's voice. "Does the Cottage need any cleaning this morning?"

"Please tell her that I'll be over to the manor shortly, Tippy. Thank you for asking, but I think yesterday's deep clean did the trick. Perhaps Mother needs help with the linens?" Draco suppressed the urge to roll his eyes at the overindulgent elf, who still thought of him as the little boy she helped raise. His mother's incessant need to fret over him wore his patience thin, but having his house elf mirror the sentiments in other areas of his life was driving him barmy. But he loved them both, in their own ways, and tolerated their excessive affection.

"Yes, Lord Malfoy." The second crack signaled he was alone again. He sighed and swung his feet onto the cold wooden floor, counting to three to force himself up. It was time to leave the safety of his home and face his mother for their daily standoff. Following his trial and acquittal, Draco had moved to the Acton-Malfoy Cottage, a small house usually reserved for the Malfoy dowager. His mother was devastated he moved out, giving extra protest since he'd taken on the mantle of Lord Malfoy when his father was sentenced to 20 years in Azkaban. He, however, couldn't stand to be in the Manor after hosting the world's worst houseguest and imprisoning his classmates in his basement. His mother did not seem to share his sentiments, hosting parties and fundraisers for charitable causes as soon as her light sentence, a three month magic ban courtesy of Saint Potter's testimony, was lifted.

When he apperated into the dining room, he expected his mother to bombard him with questions, most of which he would ignore, as was their usual morning routine. In fact, he expected her nagging and mothering to reach an all time high given today's lunch plans.

"Draco, my love, come look at this letter from your father," was Narcissa's only greeting. The poised ice blonde didn't move from her seat to hug Draco, or even look up from the parchment in her hands. Draco sighed, never eager to read anything from his father, but compelled his feet to move down to the head of the long table. His mother handed him the parchment, which he read three times, the first two in shock and the third wishing more information would spring from the page.

"Theo didn't tell me anything," Draco's voice was flat and emotionless, but his throat grew tight with hurt. His best friend since birth, the man he considered a brother, didn't trust him enough to alert him to this massive life changing event. Draco had no doubt in his mind that the subject of said massive life changing event was the reason.; she was likely dripping poison into Theo's ear about Draco at this moment. He couldn't blame her entirely for that; Draco was aware of what a prat he was as a child. Fighting as a pawn in someone else's war quickly stamped out his outspoken pretension, replacing it with a quiet resourcefulness. Regardless, Draco was angry that out of the world of witches, his best friend's newfound sister was none other than the know-it-all Golden Girl, Hermione Granger. Perhaps this was some sort of karmic retribution for being a git to her for their six years of school together.

"It happened two days ago, my sweet boy. I'm sure he will tell you soon."

"I suppose," he muttered, taking his seat at the table. As he ate his eggs silently, his mind was focused on creating and discarding options for approaching Theo with the news that he knew. He had to find a way to help protect Theo while also safeguarding their friendship against whatever trouble Hermione Granger was sure to be brewing. Narcissa watched him across the table, quietly observing the familiar flint in his grey eyes.

"Hermione Granger is now a Nott," his mother's statement broke through his thoughts, still studying him. He schooled his features into a mask of indifference while he internally begged she would drop the subject. "A famous and brilliant war heroine who holds a position in the Ministry and is friends with Harry Potter could be an advantageous alliance for our family Dra-"

"No, Mother, don't allow your mind to wander there," he scolded her harshly, irritated both that his mother brought up her beloved Saint Potter and that she was, yet again, working on Draco's future without his input or interest at heart. "She is still Hermione Granger, regardless of her parentage." And I am still Draco Malfoy, he added silently, remembering the unrestrained hatred that defined their relationship in school.

"With a little guidance Hermione Granger could be an acceptable Lady Nott-Malfoy," she pushed again, firmer this time, as she smoothed her emerald robes with an air of authority.

"Mother, that is not an option," Draco groaned. "Nor will it ever be. I beg you, stop this."

"Draco, you've dismissed every match. At your age, I was already married and trying for an heir. Doing my duty," Narcissa insisted, the pleasantness of her tone wearing thin. "If I recall correctly, you spoke of her all the time when you were in school. Much more than any girl I've tried to arrange a formal courting agreement with."

"I simply talked about how annoyed I was that she beat my marks in nearly all my classes, which Father made clear was unacceptable. Several times. No scheming regarding Granger."

"Perhaps I could just owl her and invite her for tea. Not for you, but to strengthen our partnership with the Notts and forge a new ally with Miss Granger. I'm sure even her friendship could play a pivotal role in our family regaining some of our political footing."

Draco pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled deeply. Rather than discuss with his mother how he doubted Granger would want to take tea in the house she was tortured in, he took a deep breath and smiled softly at her. "I'm seeing Theo after the luncheon. Could you please hold off until tomorrow? We have no idea if he wants to claim her as a relative nor if she is interested in being a Nott."

"Very well," Narcissa nodded in agreement. "What will you wear for our lunch today?"

"Are you insistent that I join you for this? I'd rather not attend another Greengrass luncheon," Draco suppressed a shudder, reflecting on the campaign Lady Greengrass mounted to pair him with her younger daughter. At multiple events this season, Astoria Greengrass had been presented to him as no more than a broodmare by her own mother, desperate to marry off her teenage daughter to a wealthier family as quickly as possible. Astoria had clearly been coached and worked hard at the last luncheon, from hanging off his every word to laughing at nearly every sentence he uttered to finding ways for her fingers to flint across any exposed skin. While Narcissa hadn't been receptive to the witch's attempts for a betrothal while the children were at Hogwarts, she was now beginning to grow anxious for her only son. In turn, she'd been forcing the conversation towards Astoria's positive qualities each morning for the past three weeks.

"Lady Greengrass is rather aggressive in her pursuits for her daughters," Draco felt gracious in how he decided to address the harpy's efforts. Narcissa's glacial glare answered his question. "Right, I'll meet you by the floo at quarter till noon. I'd planned on the black robes, but can switch if that would clash with your outfit," he folded, standing and giving her a kiss on the cheek. As he walked away, flashes of a bushy haired, angry Gryffindor filled his mind and wouldn't shake loose. Suddenly, the dreaded lunch with the desperate hag and his would-be teen bride didn't sound nearly as bad as dealing with a certain lioness.