Underneath the Mistletoe

ChapterFortySix

Draco's POV
FifthYear-DaySeven

Draco woke to a slight headache. It's not as if he'd had anything to drink the night before, only that at Malfoy Manor 'sleeping in' was not a thing. Of course when he made it down to breakfast his Mother and Father looked as pristine as ever. Cora and Meave looked a little more rumpled, which satisfied Draco. When his parents were not looking Cora gave him a death glare, he only dead panned. He would not pleasure her by glaring back, after all that's what she wanted.

"Good morning, Draco. Happy Christmas." His Father greeted him, sitting stiffly, from his usual spot at the head of the table.

"Good morning Father." Draco pulled out a chair at the dining room table and lowered himself into it. "Good morning Mother. Happy Christmas." He knew he was supposed to say the same to Cora and Meave however he couldn't bring himself to address them directly. Draco also knew that he would pay for it latter. His parents, more specifically his Father, would give him a verbal lashing. He'd take it, it felt worth it. He realized that perhaps that choice was been a tad impulsive, he'd acted with his heart and not his head. Jassy brought him his usual breakfast within seconds of him asking for it. He thought of trying to sneak her a small smile, a bit of hope. Upon thinking this he clamped down hard on his rash thought patterns. Impulsive thoughts and ideas would only lead to more impulsive actions. Draco was not ready to think of even half the consequences that might come from the actions he was itching to take.

Draco pushed away his urges and pressed his lips into an absent minded smile, put a serene look in his eyes. He began to eat his eggs which were done easy over with beacon sprinkled on top. Heat rose up from the centre when he cut it open with his gleaming fork and knife. A warm english muffin that was sliced in two halves sat beside his main plate. After finishing his egg he used a second, clean, knife to carve a piece of butter from the slab and smooth it across the surface of the warm bread.

The five of them sat in near silence, the only sounds coming from clinking silverware and nearly inaudible eating noises. A soft morning glow peered in on them through the long dining room windows. The glow felt out of place, in the manor, in such unpleasant company. However, perhaps it wasn't so out of place. He glanced outside, to the rest of the world beyond, Draco saw large icicles hanging from the top of the windowsill. They were slowly melting under the heat of the sun. He felt lighter, all because of a letter that Harry had sent him the night before. His thoughts began to drift, slowly, farther and farther away. Draco felt buoyant, like he was floating almost. Like his feet weren't touching the floor. Like he was above the sodding bullshit the people here at the Manor put him through. But of course that couldn't be true. It wasn't over. Not quite.

"You look tiered, Draco." Cora felt the need to comment.

He told himself that getting angry wasn't worth it. "The party ran late last night."

"Yes, but you don't look good."

"I can assure you I'm fine."

"You have large eye bags and-"

Draco cut her off. "I said I'm fine."

"There's no need to be rude." Cora said haughtily as she dabbed at her mouth with a napkin.

Draco's temper began to boil.

"Anyway, did you see Chia's dress last night? It looked rather tacky. I also don't think it went very well with her body type."

He hated his parents for letting her stay with them. It was Christmas morning and all she could talk about was how tiered he looked and how the guests last night had been dressed.

"Did you get to talk to her?" His Mother asked Cora as if the woman hadn't said a thing about Chia's appearance.

"Oh, yes, we talked." She didn't mention their spat. Or perhaps Cora had gotten too tipsy to remember it now. "Last time I talked to her was about the same time last year at a convention organized around the-"