The note that accompanied the box had said,
To be shared. Love, Mother.
And the moment Draco saw the lion-shaped chocolates in the box that Mother sent him, he knew that he should talk to her properly about his relation with Potter.
He knew that she knew something. He hadn't written to her about his emerging...friendship with Potter, but he had read about it in the Prophet. There had to be student spies at the school, ones obsessed with Potter and everything he did. That Draco being seen around with Potter made the news was hardly surprising, and sometimes Draco wondered why there weren't articles like "Harry Potter, attending Potions class!", or "Harry Potter eats pancakes for breakfast!", or other such rot.
Draco placed the letters and other packages to the side, and presented the box to Potter. Potter did his amusing talking thing, and Draco picked out a dragon, and Potter his lion (Gryffindor). They shared minutes of pleasant silence as they consumed their chocolates. Draco found himself unwillingly smiling a little at Potter's wide grin.
"Thank your mum for me, Malfoy," Potter said easily, licking off his fingers. "Alright."
Draco allowed himself to roll his eyes, somewhat at Potter's answer for him, but also because he will thank his mother.
Potter stretched luxuriously, and after flicking Draco another grin, settled back to his work. Draco blinked at the sudden warmth that filled him. He shook his head clear his mind, and tried not to smirk when Potter dripped ink all over his parchment on accident and cursed to himself.
*
That night, Draco set the letters and packages around in a circle on his bed. He picked up Mother's letter's first, the scent of flowers clinging to the paper. Mother's letter did not include any explicit reference to Potter. Instead, she reminded him to visit the Manor during the upcoming Hogsmeade weekend and to write to Father. Even Father had written to Draco but the lightness of the entire letter—a bland and thorough rendition of the renovation works at the Manor—left Draco no doubt that Mother had been looking over Father's shoulder as he wrote it.
Draco swallowed as he unravelled the package that Father had sent. Perhaps Father isn't as inattentive of me as I thought. A small silver pendant was revealed, nestled in dark blue velvet. The chain was white silver, made of tiny delicate links, and when Draco touched the pendent with a tentative finger, a shiver of magic curled up his arm.
The pendant was infused with defence magic. It was old, and layers and layers of interlocking spells lay just at the surface of the metal, sliding along the chain links. Slowly, Draco undid the clasp and put the pendent around his neck. The moment the chain was clasped, the pendent hummed and the tingle of magic flowed over his skin.
Draco closed his eyes. There was a newer spell he could sense. Father's magic. It did not have the same safe feeling of Mother's, but there was a sense of stoicism and that...Father cared. Draco was able to undo some of his own personal defence spells, and he sighed the strain of maintaining spells decreased.
Pansy's and Blaise's joint package was a much lighter tone; they had given him some French hair potions. Pansy assured him that they were at least as good as Sleakeezy's, darling. Think how utterly amazing French fashion is, Draco! Pansy's and Blaise's banter across the letter—different sections in different handwriting and the occasional blot as they fought over the quill—had Draco nostalgic. He decided then to write to Mother to see if Pansy, Blaise, and Greg would be able to come over to the Manor during the Hogsmeade weekend as well.
YOU ARE READING
The Standard You Walk Past
FanfictionOn returning to Hogwarts for their Eighth Year, Headmistress McGonagall decided to room Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter together. She may have hoped for a leading example of house unity; the other students fully expected insults and fights. But nothin...