And She Was Golden

and an entente (to sign his ruin)

THE MALFOY FAMILY SLIPS BACK INTO TRADITIONS

The Annual Malfoy Winter Gala reinstated!

....make a splash in society as they.....and a heartfelt speech....Draco Lucius Malfoy has officially ascended... begs the question, where is his Lady Malfoy?...

THE MALFOY WINTER GALA: A DEATH EATER'S PLOY FOR SYMPATHY?

....The Malfoy Family shamelessly flaunts wealth amidst trying times as they host... freedom as proof that the Ministry is as incompetent...

DRACO LUCIUS MALFOY CLAIMS HIS RIGHT AS HEIR

...but this reporter would like to ask, where is the ring? It was notably absent from...All noble houses are... many regular attendees were missing, some of the notable family names being Crabbe, Rosier, and ......

o.o.o

Draco leans back in his chair, fiddling with a little black box. The serpent ring gleams, cold emerald eyes staring at him in accusation. Not many people knew the intricacies laced within Pureblood traditions, and the old families preferred it that way. It helped keep intact the invisible lines between us and everyone else.

He places the open box atop the stack of Septimius' journals.

Sure enough, the skull and slithering viper was interspersed throughout confessions and correspondence. Who could it be? Even he hadn't known much about the symbol, so it had to be someone close, someone within his acquaintance.

Unfortunately, this doesn't do much to narrow his circle of suspicion. The Malfoy family had become a symbol of unorthodox values now, traitors to their own tradition with an unwed head of house. Blaise gleefully informed him of hushed whispers surrounding his scandalous ascension. Draco's favorite was the one claiming a rendez-vous in Paris with some American socialite he had never even heard of before. Apparently it had been a beautiful elopement, albeit rushed due to the triplets he was supposedly expecting.

Draco sighs, running a hand through his hair, glancing out his window. The sky was a mess of pastels with the first rays of the morning sun breaking above the horizon. He hopes they still have some Pepper-up in stock, he isn't keen on having to make a run to Diagon first thing in the morning. It has been an exhausting couple of days, to say the least.

He's reminded of his position as a glorified secretary as the Ministry slows down, preparing for the arrival of a new year. Urgency regarding casework has been replaced by merriment as people make plans for parties and gatherings. An excessive amount of paperwork and memos has found their way onto his desk, even Potter has sheepishly handed over some of his files as he rushed out of the office.

Draco does not have the luxury to do the same. He doesn't mind it for the most part, happy to work on anything that would help him forget the way Granger's eyes seemed to sparkle under the moonlight. Or the sweet vanilla scent that wafted into his dreams, making his stomach twist with a hunger he didn't want to name. He tries not to linger on the way the dress hugged her figure and to pretend that green wasn't particularly suited to her. The intoxication of her proximity proved to be an unexpected high, and that made the fall to reality that much more painful.

She used to be everywhere he looked. Lingering in the corner or at Potter's desk; A memo or two addressed from her scattered throughout his day. Running into her at the cafeteria once or twice; bumping into her in the corridors. He fancied that he was finally used to the click-click of those damned heels only for the sound to disappear entirely from his realm.