The Agreement | Draco Malfoy

5.

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I tried my absolute hardest, but could not stop the mad laugh that I barked out.

"What could Draco Malfoy possibly need my help for?" I snorted, putting emphasis on his name. The look he gave me suggested that he was in no mood for neither jokes nor arguing. He eyed the crowds around us, making sure no one had heard my exclamation.

"I'd rather discuss this somewhere more private, without any prying ears. And please, keep that cutting voice of yours quieter. Thomasine." He said my name in the exact same tone I had said his. He straightened back up from his previous position - with his mouth close to my ear - and ignored the insulted look on my face. "If you'd follow me."

He didn't give me the opportunity to decline. He just turned on his heel, dropped his half-drunken glass of whisky on a waiter's tray, and started zigzagging his way through the crowds of people. His stance was elegant, yet casual, with both hands now in his pockets. He looked like he owned the place.

Well. Technically he did.

I had no other options besides following him or possibly facing public humiliation. At least he was easy to keep track of in the crowd, with that almost-white hair that worked as a beacon. I put my barely touched glass of wine on a table with a large flower arrangement and set off after him.

"Don't you think the ladies will get jealous of me if they see me leaving with you?" I asked, half-jokingly, half not. I would be lying if I said that the wrath of an envious woman on my throat didn't intimidate me.

Draco let out a short, breathy laugh. Almost like the laughter I'd hear so often in the Slytherin common rooms in the evenings, many years ago. "You'll have to watch your back."

We exited the grand ballroom and walked through the entrance hall, in which a few people stood, talking in the quieter and calmer atmosphere. I now walked a good few feet behind him as we strode for the grand staircase, trying not to make the whole thing look so suspicious. I had to lift up my gown a bit as we climbed up one floor, and then another, to avoid stepping on its hem.

"How far up are we going?" I huffed, tired from holding up the heavy fabrics, and the staircases that were quite steep due to the high ceilings of the manor.

"The third floor is entirely mine. It's warded to repel anyone but those I permit through," Draco didn't turn to look at me as he spoke. His voice echoed in the hallway that was completely void of other people, the sound bouncing off of the wooden panel walls.

The manor was sparsely, but exquisitely, decorated. Most of the paintings I had seen inside looked to be ancient, and many of them were portraits. Assumably depicting some old ancestor. The furniture had a matching colour scheme with what looked like the darkest of oak mixed with the occasional grey granite and silver detail.

When we finally reached what I had counted to be the third floor, I was already a bit breathless.

"Seems like someone needs to do some cardio," Draco's tone was mocking.

"I'm absolutely fine, thank you," I retorted. "You try climbing three flights of steep stairs with a large and heavy gown on and see how it goes."

Draco did not answer but walked up to a large, round, stained glass window at the wall opposite the staircase. I joined him there but kept a healthy distance from him. Out from the inner breast pocket of his suit jacket, he fished out his wand.

"Muffliato."

"Not taking any risks, are we?" I remarked with a smirk. No answer. Again. "Well? What's all this about, then?"