𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓖𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓻𝓷𝓮𝓼𝓼 || 𝐋𝐮𝐜𝐢𝐮𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐥𝐟𝐨𝐲

Chapter 2 - Dead Man's Whiskey

Tap. Tap. Tap.

            "Will you cease and desist, Draco? That tapping is terribly agitating." Ophelia sighed as she closed the history of magic book closed. Draco Malfoys fingers instantly stopped drumming on the mahogany table, his nose scrunching distastefully, the boy was not used to being told what to do in such a manner, well... other than by his father of course.

            "No, I think I won't actually," The boy smiled devilishly as he fingers drummed on the table once again, more furiously this time. "Annoying you is one of my favourite past times of late."

            Ophelia leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest, she cocked an eyebrow and stared down at the nine-year-old seated opposite her. She told herself he's just a child, he's just a terribly annoying privileged snotty child. She could never lower herself by being goaded by a nine-year-old. She would not bite.

            "I think you will." Ophelia bit, crossing her legs and narrowing her eyes on the boy.

            "What are you gonna do if I don't?" The boy challenged.

            "Set you some super boring assignments, tell your mother when they're not completed, whoops no watching the quidditch tomorrow for you..." Ophelia said smugly.

            "You wouldn't!" Draco sneered staring daggers into his governess.

            "Oh, I would," Ophelia smiled. "But all you've got to do is complete that comprehension with minimal annoyingness... c'mon Draco, thirty more minutes and then we can have a chill afternoon." The boy pondered it for a second, but his stubbornness won out in the end, he would not bargain with the governess.

            "I'll tell my father," Draco threatened with a wicked grin.

            "You'll tell me what?" A smooth velvety voice asked from the archway into the study room. Ophelia's head whipped around to meet the owner of the voice, and set her eyes on the man, the myth, the legend. At least that's what he liked to think of himself. His long poker straight hair fell neatly down passed his shoulders, sitting over his elaborate black velvet robes. His blue steely eyes pierced the governess's forest green ones. "Just who is this, Draco?" Mr Malfoy added, pointing the snake head that sat upon the top of his cane towards the young woman.

            "My new governess... Miss Oakham." Draco swallowed; his voice hitched.

            "What happened to Ms Peppershore?" Mr Malfoys brows furrowed as he looked the young witch up and down. She wore a brown plaid pleated skirt, brown loafers, with a gold buckle. A white turtleneck jumper, layered with a burgundy cable-knit cardigan. He noticed her green eyes first of all, jumping off her sweet tanned face like shining emeralds. Her thick honey curls were pulled back into a bun, a few stray ringlet curls falling forward, framing her face. She was awfully young to be a governess, he thought to himself.

            "She died... a month ago father..." Draco rolled his lips together as he awaited his father's response.

            "Right, yes... of course." Mr Malfoy nodded as he clasped his cane with both hands and pressed it into the wooden floor. "And how long have you been Draco's new governess Miss Oakham?"

            "Two weeks and one day." The governess answered.

            "And I trust Draco has been a most.... Studious, well-mannered, well-behaved boy?" Mr Malfoy's right eyebrow creeped up as he looked over his son's pale face, the boys' eyes were wide and pleading as he stared across the table at his young governess.