WHEN GODS SLEEP - DRACO M.

THREE.

WHEN GODS SLEEP
Chapter Three

The Grimaldi's had only three girls.

          Though their father, albeit enchanted by his daughters, would have preferred an heir, their mother was perceptibly joyous. Three beautiful women she could conveniently constrain within pale dancing shoes, a carefully outlined agenda; the rigor of a violin, a piano and a cello. The wisdom of ancient libraries, the pride of the noble house.

          The Grimaldi's had three quintessential, faultless girls.

        Amidst artistic and intellectual practices, the middle child had met Draco Malfoy. His light hair contrasted hers, comically resembling the keys they played. He was a little project in the making as well, perhaps even serving similar purposes. 

        'Is it a wig?' He had asked once, feet dangling off a worn bench.

        She held up her chubby fingers. 'I'm four. Old ladies wear wigs.'

        Draco observed inquisitively, only to grab a handful of jet black locks, and pull it down with a strong grip. She yelped, pushing his chest reflexively. He fell with a loud thud, alarming his prying mother, who rushed to her son's aid.

        The boy stood and brushed the dust off himself, his grey shorts revealing the grazed knee.

        'You're mean!' Epione slid off, bawling, her little fists firmly shut by her sides.

        Narcissa stared, wide-eyed, as her son reached forward with his own pudgy hands, resting on the top of her head. The child opened her eyes slowly, crying ceasing as he awkwardly patted her.

         She dried her tears just in time to see his grin. He retreated his hand. 'I really really thought it was a wig.'

* * * * *

Epione reached for her scalp, gazing distractedly at Pansy running her fingers through Draco's hair. Their childhood memories, presumably tucked away somewhere irrelevant in his mind. He showed her no hint of hoping to rekindle an old friendship, and she was partly at fault.

          Not that I had ever told him why.

          The sixth year Slytherins were lounging on the common room after lunch. They were only about ten, usually randomly spread across the many seats around the spacious place. Friday afternoon's always began like that - Potions afterwards meant little to no walking.

          This particular time, they gathered together for meticulous planning. Only the next day, they'd be going to Hogsmeade, and it was quite the tradition to have at least a drink together - no excuses.

           Draco, without lifting his head from Pansy's lap, commented dryly. 'Do we really have to do this again?'

           Guess the job is taking a toll on him.

          'You think you can't save an hour for us? I'm sure Pansy won't mind.' Blaise chimed, stretching his legs until they hit the table.

           'Actually...' He began, sitting up to reveal his pale face. Epione hadn't gotten a proper look at him for weeks, - his eyes seemed heavier, distressed features. Her heart reluctantly skipped a beat. He continued, focusing on the floor. 'I have detention with Mcgonagall.'

           His girlfriend instantly tensed, and her brown eyes fell upon Epione,  as if she was at fault. No one seemed to pay much attention though, as the bell rang and the Slytherins quickly began gathering their belonging. Pansy hadn't passed Potions, so she'd surely be late to whatever other class she'd replaced it with. Fashioning one last foul look, she rushed through the door. Only Draco stayed behind, his gaze still trained on the floor.