What Do A Lion And A Wolf Share?

Important Conversations

"Draco, darling, what are you wearing?" His mother asked him impatiently, tapping her foot as she stood next to the empty dining table. Draco looked down at his flying gear, confused by her question. She was dressed in silk robes with her blonde hair pinned up, a look she usually reserved for society lunches, which put him on edge. When he didn't respond, Narcissa sighed. "Well, aren't you coming?"

"What?" Draco asked, his voice hoarse from sleep. He'd gone to bed after telling his mother about the fight with Theo and slept for nearly 18 hours. Draco planned to grab a quick breakfast with his mother at Malfoy Manor before flying for a good chunk of the morning. That was his usual ritual for the morning before an event, that way he didn't feel like he'd wasted the entire day. Though the ball he'd been planning for months didn't seem to have that same looming effect as other social obligations did.

"We discussed this yesterday, don't you remember?" Draco did not, but kept his mouth shut. "You promised you would take me out for breakfast at the new cafe in Diagon Alley as a treat before tonight. Come now, let's get a spot of breakfast." Draco sighed, but nodded. After a quick trip home, he reappeared in black robes to escort his mother to Narcissa to Diagon Alley. Apperating to the alley, he followed his mother to a cheery looking cafe and opened the bright yellow door for her.

"Narcissa, hello." He heard Hermione's voice say, igniting a jolt of nervous energy in him. Yesterday's lunch had been uncomfortable at best and he'd planned to avoid her as much as possible during the ball tonight. As he walked in, Hermione looked surprised, but quickly smiled at him from her seat at a small window table. "And Malfoy, I didn't realize you'd be joining us."

"I didn't either," he said, giving his mother a pointed look. Narcissa glanced at the menu she'd picked up off the table, pretending to be blissfully unaware of Draco's glare.

"Since we were going to talk about the ball tonight and finalize last minute details, I thought we could all chat together and give our owls a well deserved break," Narcissa explained as she took a seat across from Hermione. Draco begrudgingly sat next to the older witch, eyeing her suspiciously. Hermione took the change in stride, producing a parchment from her bag and rattling off questions, all of which Narcissa answered in great detail. He nodded along, making note of Hermione's request that he and she go to the venue early to finalize things. His mother however reassigned the task to Draco, citing the coveted preparation time witches needed prior to an event. He felt his lips twitch slightly as he watched Hermione suppress an eye roll, but soon the conversation grew dull again. Draco sighed, looking out the window they were seated next to and wishing he'd skipped breakfast; he'd be flying right now if he hadn't gone to the manor.

"Narcissa!" A familiar voice called from the door, breaking Draco out of his thoughts. Pansy Parkinson's mother, dressed head to toe in a particularly loud shade of fuschia, leered at them hungrily. "Oh and who do we have here?" His mother's close friend and a favorite source of Rita Skeeter, she walked closer and smiled pleasantly as she looked between the three of them.

"Oh, apologies, you two. I'll be right back," Narcissa said quietly, standing with urgency, as though she didn't arrange for her friend to appear. "Maybe you could talk about saving a dance for each other tonight. Hello dear, how are you?" Narcissa practically floated towards her friend, a picture of unperturbed elegance despite the interruption, before pulling her away to the counter to look at the pastries on display.

Draco groaned audibly. " Subtle, Mother, " he thought as he watched her glide away.

"Have you spoken to Theo yet?" Hermione leaned across the table immediately, asking in hushed tones. Draco was thankful she had no comment on his mother's conspicuous matchmaking efforts, but still wished he'd burned the damned plant before he set foot in the manor.