Draco Malfoy in : Princess Protection Program

4: Katarina's Boiled Potato & Girl's Night

There were few reasons why Draco didn't spend much time in his home.

First being: It was way too bloody big.

Second: He was busy, duh.

Third:

"Have you heard of Alana Windsor, Draco? I heard she's quite the lady, inventor of the golden parchment—smart lady."

Draco sighed.

Third being: His mother's endless tries of finding him a wife.

He looked up from his plate and brought his eyes to his mother who was sitting at the head of the table.

"No, I have not."

His mother smiled. "Would you like me to set a meeting? I'm sure you two would have plenty to discuss."

Draco tried not to roll his eyes. "About golden parchment paper?"

"That and some other things too."

"And what shall I say about golden parchments?"

"You are a pretty opiniated man."

"Not when it comes to golden parchments. And why would someone invent one? I see no use of—"

"It's at least pretty to look at."

His bell rang.

Saved by the bell.

His mother eyed the bell that in his hand and shot him a look. "We'll continue our conversation some other time then."

Draco summoned his robes before heading to the hearth. Once he stepped out, he saw the room was empty. He raised a brow.

Then, his nostrils smelled something burning.

Draco started cursing mentally.

Bloody hell, did Parksinson taught the Princess fire charms? Or was it Weasley? No, definitely Parksinson. That bitch.

What should he say to his aunt? That the Princess had set something on fire? Or was she the one on fire? Oh he could almost hear the woman's high shriek.

He made his way towards the kitchen and saw the Princess standing just in front of the stove tops, hands crossed and head tilted.

Today the Princess took the liberty of dressing in normal clothes, a black top and black skirt with black Mary-Janes.

"You called?" he said, announcing his presence.

The Princess turned around slowly and she had this face that he couldn't understand. Was it.. curiosity?

"Yes, um.. I had a question."

"A question." he said, starting to regret his job.

"How do you turn the stoves, Mr. Malfoy?"

Yes, he definitely regretted his job.

Draco blinked.

The Princess blinked.

"You rang the bell just to ask me how to.. turn on the stoves?"

"You caught up well."

Draco narrowed his eyes, surprisingly the Princess did the same. He walked towards the stoves and turned it to the left.

Viola, it was lit.

"Just like that, Your Highness." he maintained his professionalism by folding his arms behind his back and kept a steady face when in reality he wanted to grab the nearest plates and smash it to the wall, respectfully— of course.