Marriage Law (d.m)

~ chapter 16 ~

"Draco," Narcissa called from the kitchen. Draco tossed his book on the coffee table next to him and slowly sat up on the couch. "Draco," was called out once more before he got off and yelled back, "I'm coming, mother." He walked into the kitchen, seeing his mother washing her hands at the sink with Madelyn standing behind, waiting her turn. The two women looked over but Madelyn quickly looked at the sink as Narcissa finished and dried her hands. 

"Can you make pumpkin soup, dear? I thought it would be a good choice for a late lunch or early dinner since you guys have to leave today," Narcissa said as she folded the towel and placed it back down on the counter, then turning to face Draco once again. Before Draco had a chance to answer, Narcissa came over, tapped him on the arm, and said, "Perfect! I have to finish a couple of things on my to-do list so I'll be back in a bit." Draco groaned but Narcissa chose not to hear it as she left the room. 

Draco stumbled around the room, gathering all the ingredients as Madelyn leaned against the counter watching. His eyes wandered over to her when placing the last ingredient on the counter, noticing how well the blue dress complimented her skin tone. He snapped his head back as he realized how long he was staring, making the anger rise in him, not only because of the length of the gaze but for enjoying the outfit on the woman that stood steps away. 

"Is there anything I can help you with?" Madelyn asked, shooting tingles down his spine.

"Yes, I'm not your slave," Draco said, seriously, even though he was pleased to hear that she wanted to help. She rolled her eyes at his response then leaned on the counter containing the ingredients. "These need to be thinly sliced. Not thick, thin," he spat, speaking to her like she was a child. He slid the onions in front of her, then started his task. 

"So thick?" Madelyn asked sarcastically as she began to slice. He slightly looked up to meet eyes, then back down, smirking to himself while resuming. The two worked in silence, allowing for subtle adjustments of their eyes to watch the other but then shifting back before they noticed. Draco finished one of his tasks before Madelyn was done, so he moved his eyes to watch as she sliced the onion carefully, making sure no errors occur. Her eyes met his in concern.

"Am I doing this wrong?" 

"No," Draco snapped due to being caught staring, then quickly got started on the next step. 

"This is my mother's favorite soup," he said, after clearing his throat. 

"Oh, really? I've never had it," Madelyn said as sliced the last part of the onion then pushing the excess of the knife with her finger. 

"There is no way that you have never had this, Jones," Draco lightly laughed, then met eyes with her. She smirked and shrugged in response. "I bet you'll like it. I haven't met anyone who hasn't."

The two continued cooking with occasional small talk to fill the room.

"Now just stir this for a minute," Draco said, handing Madelyn the ladle. After taking the utensil, she did as told and stirred the mixture in the pot. While she was, he began cleaning up a spill that was on another counter, and when he turned around to go to the sink, he saw the girl that was in his arms this morning, helping cook his favorite meal. Something about the view made him feel a lightness, like fluttering, in his stomach that he hadn't felt in a while, and he hated it. She stood, in socks, and a little on her tiptoes, which wasn't necessary since her height wasn't a problem, looking intensely into the pot, watching to make sure there were no inaccuracies. He watched as she bit her lip, smiling to herself as the delightful scent of the soup hit her nose, then looking over to him for approval. Once again, he was caught staring.

"What are you looking at?" Madelyn asked, wondering why his stare was so intense. 

"Mind your fucking business," he spat as he walked to the sink to rinse off a towel he used to clean. He only kept getting angrier with himself for his constant interest in her but he refused to admit it was an interest, especially an interest to a half-blood.