Under the Stars

Hot Summer Days

When Draco returned from the Seven Swans, he simply announced, slightly haughtily, that Harry might be coming over in a few days for a Seekers Game.

She smiled fondly and said, 'of course dear,' as if it were no matter and perfectly normal.

The following day there was an owl. A funny little fluffy ball of feathers that didn't look capable of flying, let alone carrying a letter. Draco neglected to tidy the messy note away as he charged off to do something highly important – he didn't say what. Narcissa really couldn't help reading it. It said: Been paid a stupid amount of money by Witch Weekly for a ridiculous interview – I could imagine you making sarcastic comments the whole way through – had to stop myself from giggling at one point. Anyway, going to spend the money completely frivolously. Nimbus or Firebolt? What make and model have you got? Maybe we ought to be evenly matched on identical brooms, then there's no excuses when you lose other than I'm undeniably better!!!!

Narcissa smiled to herself and quietly tidied away the breakfast things. Then she collected up the stack of home interior decoration magazines that lay on the dresser. She had ideas for the Manor, she'd have to run them past Draco first because really it was his now, but the old Malfoy décor really was depressingly atrocious and Lucius had always been so stuck in the traditional ways.

The following day, Narcissa watched her son pacing the hall. She made herself busy as she vanished the ghastly old wooden carver chairs with carved skulls adorning the legs and decided to replace the overbearing dark-green velvet curtains with a more delicate shade of duck-egg blue with a pretty flower and bird pattern.

Eventually, Harry Potter stepped through the Floo carrying two Firebolts.

'Your Nimbus is so old it's practically a collector's item,' Harry said, pushing one of the broomsticks into Draco's hand. 'Happy birthday, or something,' he added, looking slightly embarrassed. 'I'm only a few days early, aren't I...?'

'A Firebolt... really?' Draco said with barely concealed excitement. 'Sweet Merlin! Thank you.'

Harry smiled and nudged him with his elbow, 'you seem more relaxed, perhaps it's not wearing those stiff black suits.'

Indeed, both men were in Quidditch trousers and boots and t-shirts.

'It's not having a Dark Lord breathing down my neck and Azkaban looming over my head, Potter.'

'You're welcome,' Harry rolled his eyes. 'At least something good came out of it all then.' His face had fallen, the mirth clearly swept away by some recent occurrence.

'Oh, is your terrible heroism making you a grouchy Potty today,' Draco teased. 'What sob story have you got to tell me now?'

Narcissa smiled to herself again as she contemplated the carpet that ran up the stairs because there was no spite in Draco's tone. Once, that would have been the case, possibly followed by a jinx.

'Bloody Daily Prophet and their bullshit...' muttered Harry.

'Come on! Let's fly now and then have a good laugh about what they've written later.'

Draco led Harry through the front door out into the gardens. He left the door wide open. She mused that it was purely because he was utterly distracted.

Not long after, she heard a wild 'whoop!', followed by a 'woohoo!' and she looked out of the window to see the two soaring skywards and charge off in the direction of the parkland. She pointed her wand in the direction of the door to shut it, and then changed her mind. It was, after all, a glorious early-June morning and the Manor was always so shut up and stuffy. Instead, she flung open the huge sash windows and breathed deeply as she listened to the birds singing outside and the distant shouts of two young men enjoying themselves with carefree abandon.