Saccharine, a Draco Malfoy Fanfic

Chapter Seven

Draco Malfoy

I felt speechless. Awestruck. Angry. Strange, how quickly I let my emotions shift.

"Well? Don't we have… Like two minutes?" She snips at me, and I'm snapped back to reality. She isn't some goddess, she's a fucking Weasley. But why is it so easy to forget that?

I ignore Willow's snarky statement. Despite their mother shagging with a filthy American, their family is still considered close, so I must remain civil. Even if they're rather odd.

I lock my arm in hers before we dissipate, and try to ignore the slight tenseness of her body as we shift. I follow close behind her up the stairs to our mansion, hand hovering above the dip of her waist. Why am I escorting her as if we're courting?

I feel her energy shift to completely neutral, and try to hide how taken aback I am by the strange nothingness of her aura.

I ignore my house elves and follow her to our great hall, watching her inspect every aspect of it. I wish I was able to read her mind.

"Draco. Ms.Weasley," and I feel her energy shift once again. Unreadable. I myself tense, and watch as Reagan turns to greet my father, collected and poised as if she had been trained her whole life to behave like a pureblood.

"Ah, Mr. Malfoy. Pleasure to meet you formally, sir," And how did she know just what to say to avoid my father's extra disrespect. And then she held out her hand. I struggled between trying to get her to stop, or laughing at the pure pain that seemed to radiate from my father's face as he took her hand and shook it.

"Yes. I suppose," My father said coldly, and she let her hand fall to her side, and she turned to me, yet I could read nothing on her face.

~
"So, Reagan." I tense while chewing a bite of my food, looking across the table to Reagan, watching her tense.

"Yes, sir?" And somehow, I wished she were being more disrespectful. She's feeding into his ego, his ability to say anything to her because he's comfortable.

"I'm sure you're wondering why you're here. Well, it's quite the story." I slowly keep eating, sensing the off vibes about my father's words, "Well, your biological parents left you quite the fortune, and entrusted me to give it to you when you reached sixteen years old. Now, while I insisted they let me raise you, they refused and well-"

"Excuse me what?" I freeze and tighten up, looking at her like she's insane. Something about her demeanor had shifted, a red hot anger lying beneath the surface of her carefully put together expression.

"Your biological parents. You have a large fortune and manor to your name. I've signed it over to you, as that was what I was bound to do." I look at my father in disbelief, and she stands.

"Excuse me, sir. I need a moment." She says before leaving the room. I let my mind wander to how I would have felt and allow myself to feel some sympathy for her.

The light clicking of her heels indicates her return, and I look at my father for a moment, and am disgusted to see how pleased with himself he looks.

She walks in and I can tell nothing. She seems just as composed as she did when we arrived, if not more blank than before.

"My apologies, sir. Thank you." She says, voice empty as well.

"How's school going, Draco?" My father asks, taking a sip of his wine. All I wanted was a shot.

"Alright," I answered before taking a bite of my food.

"How's the tournament looking?" I appease him with a list of the contestants, despite knowing he knows from the paper.