In My Dreams [Draco Malfoy]

chapter twenty-seven: something wicked

A/N

YOU KNOW WE'RE FINALLY GETTING TO THE JUICY STUFF WHEN THE CHAPTER IS ALMOST 32 PAGES LONG. I'M SORRY ABOUT THIS, IT WAS JUST TOO AWKWARD TO SPLIT, BUT BUCKLE IN AND GET YOUR SNACKS GUYS, IT'S GONNA BE A BUMPY RIDE!!!

—MYA

INDIGO

The next morning, Draco and Theo readied to leave for Malfoy Manor. It was Christmas Eve, so, naturally, Draco wanted to visit with his mother and none of us could blame him. I certainly couldn't. Not when I knew how badly I wanted to see my own mother, even though I wanted her to be happy and enjoy her time with Alex in Ireland. Not to mention, Alex was a muggle, so breaking the whole 'magic' situation to him was a bridge we hadn't crossed yet. We couldn't even see each other without raising an ungodly amount of questions, considering all the magical methods of transportation that could totally disintegrate a muggle's normality. Sending each other letters by owl was weird as it is...

With all that in mind, I was all too happy to send Draco and Theo off. They would be back in a few hours, at most, anyway. But watching Draco go up in flames in the fireplace, reignited a thought in my head that I had been trying not to think about all day.

The fact was: if Draco and I ever stopped doing... whatever it is that we're doing and became... something else (whatever that means)... no one would be able to know.

He was from two of the oldest and proudest pureblood families in the country—his mother from the aristocratic House of Black, and his Malfoy father, whose line has been one of the most influential propagandists of blood purity philosophy since the Dark Ages. Rumor had it that the House of Black decapitated and mounted their house elves' heads on the wall when they grew too old to carry tea trays. Years ago, Draco himself had even boasted about his paternal grandfather being one of the first Death Eaters to join Voldemort.

He was from a long line of cruelty, brutality and hate, and had been raised to treat everyone and everything but purebloods with exactly that. So, if we were to ever become anything remotely romantic and his parents get wind of it, he could be disowned and I...

Well.

My family's opinion would be the least of my concerns...

"What's wrong?" Blaise asked, bringing me back to the moment. "You look a little... out of it."

I shook my head. "Nothing," I said.

"Really?" he asked. "Don't think I've ever seen you look so disappointed."

"I just... need a shower," I said. I turned toward the stairs and looked over my shoulder at my brother. "See you in a bit."

Blaise didn't press the matter any further, and I headed up the stairs.

It wasn't as if my family was perfect. The Zabinis were one of the wealthiest pureblood lines in the country, having lived in this baroque manor house and tittered along on their blood purity high horses for centuries. Nowadays, the very name 'Zabini' was sensational, with a diva black widow and her lavish lifestyle, who continued to marry over and over again, and get away with each murder.

Considering all of this, anyone who wanted to be around a Zabini was either incredibly naïve, incredibly suspicious or had nothing to lose by doing so. Draco, I knew, fell into two of these categories but I admittedly knew very little about Theo's circumstances and could only say he fell into one with complete certainty.

But even thinking of Draco as a friend was toeing the line for someone like me. In his world, merely associating with me was frowned upon, though not nearly as much as associating with a muggleborn. The only reason he got a pass for spending as much time with me as he did was because I was the daughter of another respected family and the sister of one of his best mates. If anyone ever got nosy, he could easily say that we weren't friends at all and he only knew me through Blaise. He probably would, if he had to, and I hated that I could imagine a day where he might have no choice but to do just that...