The Malfoy Project

𝟗 - 𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐬

     It is Draco who opens the front doors to the Manor.

     He seems taller than ever; platinum hair grazing his lids, his shirt is rumpled as if he had been tipped upside down and shaken roughly.

     We stare at each other, and my lips part to ask what he is doing here when a hand clamps down on his shoulder from the darkness behind. Lucius emerges, and then Narcissa - three spots of sun the shadows have missed.

     "Gabriella." Narcissa doesn't smile, but there is a weightlessness to my name now, a tickle of familiarity.

     "Good afternoon, Mr and Mrs Malfoy!" I say, unable to help myself from glancing at Draco in curiosity. Lucius sees this.

     "We have decided Draco will come home on the weekends, so we can be sure everything goes smoothly." He speaks as though his son isn't standing there at all. "Unfortunately this means you might have to stay a little longer than before."

     I nod - because what else can I do? - and they allow me in. Today, we take a different route, but everywhere I look is the same snaking carpet and staring portraits with pinched expressions. The painted figures turn up their noses at the sight of me, some walking right out of their frames. Bust after bust we pass, one chandelier to the next, a solemn procession of three black cloaks and one white summer dress in tow. It's a whole three minute walk before we finally arrive.

     The drawing room is more cramped than the library but still larger than the first, wallpapered a warm dark blue and stamped with columns of gold Fleur-de-lis. Black curtains hang heavily around the windows, barely leaving any visible pane. Plush couches, armchairs, and single seats litter the parquet flooring, their gold threads still gleaming duller than the Malfoys' hair. A grand piano stands shiny and unused in front of the windows, and finally, to tie everything together, a black marble fireplace presses itself against the far wall.

     Narcissa draws her wand and waves it towards the curtains. They lift instantly and sunlight drenches the room. The black upholstery drinks in every bit of it, like the room had been parched and is now granted water.

     "You'll go first, Darling," says Narcissa to Draco. Lucius takes his son's arm. "See to it you give her everything she needs." There is an unspoken threat in his hiss as they exchange glares, and Draco's chest compresses.

     "Yes, Father."

     They shut the door after them, leaving me alone with Draco in the oppressive silence. I set the recorder down on the tea table and kneel to configure its settings. Draco follows hesitantly and takes the seat across me.

     He does everything to avoid my gaze. One might have thought me capable of casting the Avada Kedavra curse with just my eyes alone.

     "This will only take an hour," I say.

     "That's an hour of Quidditch practice. I had to come home for this."

     "There's no practice today."

     He looks startled, stops breathing for a second, as if he had just revealed something he hadn't intended to. "I write for the sports column, remember?" I remind him. "Besides, my boyfriend's on the team."

     He doesn't ask who or which team, so I don't tell him. I suppose he doesn't care. Besides, Monty and I made an agreement to refrain from telling people we're dating, just to avoid sparking any discussion about conflict-of-interest.

     "My... accident. It wasn't in Monday's papers," he mutters through the muzzle of his fingers.

     I twist the volume level control. "There was no need for it to be."