And She Was Golden

and her presence (on a moonlit night)

Draco grew up on large social events. This isn't a secret or a hidden fact. It simply is how things are done, a consequence of his birth and position. The family has obligations and alliances, these events are how they keep them.

He can remember how he stayed up late as a child, straining to hear the light notes of music as his parents entertained. He was fascinated by the whole ordeal, often begging his parents to join them. Draco loved seeing his father and mother all done up, ready to conduct important business. He used to make Knipsy help him get dressed as well. He would wear his best dress robes and pose in the mirror, mimicking his father's posture and pretending he was a host as well.

Draco was ecstatic when his parents finally deemed him old enough to attend. It was hard work, learning all the traditional dances and perfecting his manners. Draco was determined to be perfect. He attended for half of the night before he was ushered back up for bedtime. Draco talked about it for weeks afterward. Recounting the magical night to his parents as if they hadn't been there; painting a vivid picture for his friends. It was so exciting.

He sighs. Over the years that charm has been lost. It's transformed into a chore rather than a privilege. As he grew up he came to prefer the company of his friends, hidden away in some corner or other.

Tonight, however, is special.

Tonight, the Malfoy family will reacquaint themselves with the Wizarding world. An elegant affair to remind everyone that the Malfoys haven't relinquished their status. Hence, formal invitations were sent weeks ago, describing the green-and-black-themed affair that his mother devised.

Draco stands in front of the mirror, giving himself a final once-over. He fiddles with the buttons on his waistcoat, making sure everything is in place. Decked out in his finery, he could almost pretend the last few years were a horrible nightmare.

The prisoner number peeking out from underneath his collar is the only crack in the pristine image. A quick glamour takes care of it and observing his reflection is like looking back through time. He may as well be a different Draco altogether; this is the version of him he was supposed to be. It feels at odds. It's almost improper how easily he could remake himself. This reflection of him, a well-spoken, confident and well-mannered son of a rich house with a richer legacy, doesn't feel right. This is everything he was born to be.

He isn't sure he likes it.

With one final look at his black ensemble, Draco starts to make his way down towards the receiving rooms. He finds his parents already there waiting for him, looking positively regal.

His mother is speaking quietly to some of the hired help. It was harder than usual to find individuals to hire. People weren't exactly keen on entering the manor, even now that his mother has redone most of it. Much of the manor was broken down and built anew, just like the family it held.

Many rooms and corridors are unrecognisable and Draco is glad for it. His own memories are reminder enough of the Manor's history—he isn't keen on keeping tangible proof.

Narcissa Malfoy is adorned in a stygian gown that shimmers faintly at her slightest movement. As he gets closer, Draco realizes the shimmer is a result of glittering constellations flickering slowly in and out of existence. The delicate charm work cascades down her bodice to the tail end of her train. She looks like the night sky come to life.

Father walks up to her, a box in his hand. If tonight his mother is the dazzling stars, then his father is the stoic moon within their black expanse. He's adorned in inky black traditional wizard's robes, in contrast to Draco's more modern cut. The dark attire stands out strikingly against his long, silvery hair. The only speck of color comes from the gleaming silver clasps of his intimidating cloak.