Victor Starbrook is the youngest son of a pureblooded family, meaning that he's about to be put into an unwanted but not unexpected marriage. Now, he's got to figure out how to fall back into his place in the messy puzzle that is pureblooded culture...
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➴ 𝓢ummer became a blur soon after that conversation, leaving a lot of time for my thoughts to boil.
"Victor." My father starts.
It's the first time he's spoken since we left our home. He's kept a bank face and a stern disposition since leaving the family car. His robes, unlike mine, are perfect and he looks out of place here, in a muggle train station.
He reaches forward to undo my tie, before retying it and fixing it completely. Every other year, he hasn't cared.
"Why is your uniform so scruffy?" He asks in his crisp, perfect voice.
I raise my eyebrow at him and he scowls before explaining. "Lucius Malfoy is stood on the platform waiting for you with his son. He remains adamant that, even if you are not to marry, you are to be close friends - or at least allies."
My body becomes stiff as a shiver of fear ripples through me and my arms move on their own, shifting to fix my shirt and unroll my sleeves. By the end of it, my jumper is straightened, I have an orderly amount of rings, my hair is neat, and my shirt is tucked into my belt.
Taking a deep breath, I reply in a strained voice. "He's...serious about this. Isn't he?"
My father nods slowly. "It'll be good for you, Victor. It'll put you in a good place."
Letting out a slow breath, I bid my father farewell, picking up my trunk and walking through the wall.
The warm light hits my eyes harshly. It's quieter on this side of the wall but still rowdy and hazy, the light smell of dust wafting gently through the air. Still, it's familiar and comforting and unchanged...until I hear the crisp, formal voice of Lucius Malfoy.
I couldn't see him until he called my name.
"Mr Starbrook! Come over here, my boy!"
My limbs feel alien and heavy. My mouth is dry.
And my body moves without command.
"Mr Malfoy," I say with a respectful smile. "It's nice to meet you."
Draco is stood next to him, looking as if he doesn't want to be here. As if he has somewhere to be or somewhere he'd rather be...I suppose he probably does. I'm not the only one being forced into this.
His smile grows, as if he knows he's chosen the right unfortunate child to marry his equally unfortunate chil. "How polite. It's a pleasure. This is my son Draco, as you should well know - he's in your year, I believe?"
I nod. "Yes, sir."
Draco's eyes meet mine and we begin our awkward dance of politeness by gracefully nodding 'hello'.
The air is thick with our relentless teenage awkwardness. At least there's an adult who seems just as relentless...maybe more so.
"I presume your father has explained our plans for what is supposed to happen between you two?"
I dip my head into a nod. "Yes, sir. We are to become friends, or at least allies, and possibly something more."
Lucius smiles down at me, bowing his head slowly into a nod. "Yes. Perfect. I hope you understand that it is preferred that you fall into the 'something more' category."
My mouth is dry. "Yes, of course. I understand, sir."
The crisp whistle of the Hogwarts Express echoes through the platform, a blur of red filling my vision and the smell of steam filling my lungs. Saving me...us.
"Well, you best be off. I'll see you at Christmas, Draco." Then, he turns to me with the expected perfect decorum. "I hope to see you again, Mr Starbrook."
Smiling politely, I reply. "Yes...Goodbye, Mr Malfoy."
And it is with a polite smile and an awkward nod that I find myself briskly walking onto the Hogwarts Express. Looking into the compartment windows, I search for an empty compartment to sit in.
"Starbrook!" A familiar voice calls. I turn to the voice, finding that it's Draco Malfoy - walking faster past the compartments than I've ever seen him walk in order to catch up with me. "Would you ride in the same compartment as me? I'd like to discuss some things with you."
I stifle a sigh. "Will your friends be there?"
He shakes his head, slowing now that he's reached my side. "No. This is should remain a private conversation for now."
I nod in agreement, finally finding an empty compartment and sliding the door open. "After you."
"Thank you."
We dance on glass, as we were taught to. We dance on glass, using awkward politeness and unbroken pride to avoid shattering it and revealing what we really think. We have learnt we can't get out. We are aware that the relentless cycle has begun again. This is our fate.
Malfoy walks into the compartment, somehow managing to make even putting his trunk on the shelves delicate and perfectly calculated. "Help?"
"Pardon?"
"Do you need help...With your trunk?"
I walk into the compartment, shaking my head as I lift my trunk over my head. "No, thank you."
When I turn back around, I find that he's sat perfectly folded on the seat opposite me and the compartment door is shut with the blind pulled down. I perch myself on the seat opposite him with my hand laid delicately in my lap as we sit in uncomfortable silence for what seems like years. I find myself picking at my nail polish...I'll have to repaint them later.
"So," He starts. "from this point on we're allies, correct?"
I nod slowly. "Yes."
His face hardens. "So everything we do, from this point on, not only reflects on our own family but each other's, alright?"
"Yes. I suppose that was a given...especially if-"
"Exactly." He interrupts. "Especially as my father has made it clear that it may as well be an arranged marriage with more flexibility."
I sigh. "Yes. It seems that way."
And that's where we leave it to avoid shattering the glass.
We have no choice; we knew that. This was inevitable.
