Draco Malfoy's Perspective

Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Violet opened her eyes to sunlight glinting off the metallic hinges on the wardrobe in the corner. "Ugh," she groaned, turning over. Where did that come from? She didn't own a wardrobe like that.

Suddenly she bolted upright and looked around. She was in Malfoy Manor. She had actually come. Draco was actually on the other side of that wall. Her parents were actually Death Eaters.

The Malfoy's were too, that was obvious, but they had never lied to her about it. Her parents had lied to her.

About the time she was making the bed there was a knock at the door. She sighed; what could Draco want this early in the day? Straightening her clothes, she called, "Come in."

The door opened, but it was Narcissa who stood on the other side. "Did I wake you?" she asked.

"No, I'd already woken up." Violet smiled politely.

"We're going to Diagon Alley today to collect Draco's school books. Would you like to join us?"

"I've already bought mine, but I wouldn't mind purchasing a few pleasure books."

"We will leave after breakfast." Narcissa walked out and closed the door behind herself; Violet's smile dropped and she pulled her school clothes from her trunk. It was the only thing she had to wear after all. Maybe she would invest in a set of casual day-robes instead of pleasure books.

When she walked downstairs for breakfast in her school robes, Draco scowled. "Well it isn't as if I've got another choice for today, have I?" she snarked.

"Those are very unflattering," he replied. "I'd ask if they were your mother's–" He abruptly cut off, remembering that to end that sentence would be to reveal her "true" blood status.

"If my mother wasn't smaller than me," she finished. "I'm surprised you know that."

"Pansy knows your parents."

"That explains it." She nodded. "And it isn't your business if my clothes are flattering or not."

"Draco's right, dear. Those robes are two sizes too big and tight in all the wrong places," Narcissa said. Violet's face flushed with aggravation, but she kept silent. It wasn't her fault she had hit a growth spurt and hadn't the spare money to buy new ones. She had taken some money from her parents before leaving though...

Just after breakfast, the two Malfoy's and Violet flooed into Diagon Alley. "I'm going to go to Madam Milkin's," Violet said.

"To purchase better robes?" Draco asked. Her face flushed again.

"No. I need some casual robes for the next week; all of mine are at my parents' house." She turned and stalked off. Draco grimaced; he'd done it again.

~

It took six days for them to warm up to each other. They'd been in the same house for a year, but they had never been in such constant contact with each other before.

So on the sixth day of Violet's stay, when she woke up to a harsh shaking of her shoulder, she shoved him off the edge of the bed. He fell with a yelp.

"What in Merlin's name are you doing in here?" she shouted as well as she could in a hoarse voice.

"Get dressed and come with me."

"Finally dragging me off to kill me, are you?" she asked, glaring at him.

"I prefer torture. Ten minutes."

"Twenty or I go back to sleep."

"Fifteen."

"Deal. Now get out." She glared as he walked to the door, looked back at her, smiled, and left, closing the door behind himself. Then she groaned and flopped back on her bed. What on earth could he possibly want to do with her?

Draco sat in his room for fifteen minutes exactly, equally dreading and looking forward to what he was about to do. When the fifteen minutes were up, he walked out of his room and knocked on her door. She opened it, having brushed her hair and dressed in casual robes. They were much more complementary on her than her other ones. His mother was currently fixing her school robes to fit her better.

"So what are you doing then? I assume you weren't serious about the torture."

"Never make that assumption." He led her downstairs and out the back door, which opened onto a small field surrounded by thick woods.

"A murder looks pretty good right now," Violet said as they walked.

"I won't murder you."

"Ah, the lies of murderers." She smiled at him.

He smiled back.

They went for a walk; the morning air was clear and fresh, and Violet took many long deep breaths. It was a nice morning. They were almost to the woods when Violet spoke again. "I doubt you woke me up just to come out for a walk."

"Let's get a little farther from my house," he said, picking up the pace. She frowned and matched pace with him, lithely stepping over roots and around small shrubs like she had grown up in the forest, when in fact she had only stepped inside them before for a detention.

When Draco was satisfied with their distance, he stopped. "I didn't want any of the servants to overhear."

"Overhear what?" she asked, still not totally convinced he wasn't going to kill her.

"I'm going to say something that would get me disowned, and I do not want my mother to find out."

"Reasonable."

He blurted, "I don't care that you're Muggleborn. I've been trying really hard not to call you M–the other term, because I know it's offensive. But I don't care that your parents are Muggles, alright? I don't want to make you hate me just because of something so stupid as our parents."

Violet smiled. "Draco, I think you've hit a milestone today. So I'm going to let you in on a little secret here."

He raised a brow, and she clasped her hands together in front of herself. "I'm not Muggleborn. Ramsey is an obscure name, but it is a Pureblood's name."

He looked appalled. "What are you talking about?"

"Well my mother's family has all been Pureblood, and so has my father's, which makes me a Pureblood."

"Why would you lie to me?" he frowned.

"Because you were being a jerk, and because blood status doesn't matter, so it didn't matter what my blood status was."

He chuckled. "You're something else, Violet."

"Well I meant to keep the peace between us, and I didn't do a very good job; I still made you hate me."

"I'm quite sure I just said I didn't hate you."

"You said you didn't care who my parents were. You never said you didn't hate me." She smiled at him.

He smiled back.

And then...well, neither hated the other anymore. Every bit of contempt faded into the abyss. And Draco hadn't anything to fear from getting close to her anymore. There was no risk at all.

Because Narcissa knew the Ramsey's not from blood, but from the Death Eaters. However, she was not aware that they had backed out.