Appearance (Draco-centric)
Title: Appearance
Author: Tonya (tigerlily1998@hotmail.com)
Disclaimer: No own, no sue.
Rating: Gish
Summary: In the Malfoy home, it’s all about appearances.
A/N: This was written for blaar_rosir for the Draco Malfoy Ficathon. She wanted a pre-Hogwarts character study of life as a Malfoy. And no mention of the Golden Trio.
********
Draco Malfoy sat at the dining table, absently poking at his plate as he tried not to slip into what could have become a rather entertaining coma at this rate.
The Malfoy home was no stranger to dinners, Lucius and Narcissa taking joy in opening their manor up to the other well-established families in the area. Not that they enjoyed the actual company of their guests; Draco had overheard them on many an occasion discussing their so-called welcomed guests with much displeasure and disdain after their dinners. It wasn’t the idea of mingling with these people that enticed his parents to keep inviting them back. Rather, they had these dinners to keep themselves established as the most noble, most powerful--not to mention, one of the richest--of the wizarding families. Dinners were not about good-hearted laughter and conversation with friends. They were about showing people the prestige the Malfoy name brought to those lucky enough to bear it.
Tonight the families in attendance were the Parkinsons and the Zabinis.
Draco looked up from his plate to see what the others on his silent end of the table were doing. Pansy was stirring her soup hypnotically, her gaze following the silver spoon’s path through the fluid. She heaved a quiet sigh and began to stir in the opposite direction. Beside her, Blaise appeared to be paying attention to the conversation that the adults were having. He sat perfectly upright, his eyes never leaving their general direction as he lifted his fork to his mouth. To the untrained eye, he appeared the perfect son--listening and nodding slightly--when his father made some declaration….
To the untrained eye.
Draco smirked as he watched Blaise’s eyes glaze over more with each passing second, his façade crumbling away into absolute and utter boredom. Draco gave him another five minutes of looking attentive and nodding before he’d give up trying to impress the elders and let the boredom of it all truly sink in.
Draco sighed, turning his attention back to his uneaten veal as he faintly registered a discussion starting about Hogwarts.
He had received his letter of invitation in the post two days before, as had every other of age wizard and witch in the town. Upon its arrival, he had regarded the letter with indifference.
What was the point of becoming excited by something he knew was to happen?
He expected the letter in much the same manner he expected to be sorted into the Slytherin house on his first day. In the history of Malfoys, there had not been one that had not been sorted into that house, and Draco knew he was no exception. Not that he ever wanted to be in those other houses, especially after hearing about each of them from his father. Gryffindors were nothing more than attention-whores. Ravenclaws were geniuses who had no clue how to use their intelligence to their personal benefit and gain. And the Hufflepuffs? Well, there was nothing to say about them that was worth wasting precious breath and energy.
Slytherin was a step above all of them. Slytherin was where he rightfully belonged.
“I had hopes that Albus Dumbledore would be duly expelled from his position by the time Draco entered.”
At his name, Draco became instantly attentive, his inner dwellings coming to a screeching halt. Imitating Blaise’s previous stance, Draco sat straighter in his chair, his gaze focused in the direction of his father. It was one thing to be inattentive when the adults were lost amongst their discussion of Ministry issues and other affairs, but it was another to be glassy-eyed when his father spoke to or of him.
“No matter,” Lucius continued, throwing a glance in Draco’s general direction. “His time will come soon enough.”
Draco nodded slightly as if he had been listening the entire time. He watched as his father’s gaze turned back to their guests, and he relaxed a bit in his chair.
Mr. Zabini nodded in agreement, raising his wine glass to his lips. He chuckled against the rim of his glass before speaking. “He’ll probably keep an intrusive eye on them much like he did us during our days in the halls.”
Lucius scowled deeply. “He’d do best to leave all Slytherins, past and present, to their own devices.”
The conversation gradually shifted from Hogwarts to new happenings within the Ministry, and Draco returned to his previous catatonic state.
Time seemed to drag on endlessly, the main course being replaced by dessert and the dessert being replaced by nothing but empty plates. Only when he heard the familiar sounds of chairs pushing back from the dining table did Draco finally acknowledge his surroundings with something more than a dull stare.
All parties stood, Draco included, as the three families bid their goodnights. His father shook the hands of Mr. Zabini and Mr. Parkinson while his mother exchanged simple cheek kisses with their wives. Draco smirked slightly as he looked on, knowing that once their guests were gone, those friendly gestures would be nothing but a distant, bitter memory for his parents.
“We’re going riding tomorrow,” Blaise said as their parents made plans for another dinner. “You can join if you like.”
Draco nodded indifferently.
Blaise seemed pleased by this noncommittal response and went to stand at his mother’s side. Pansy simply rolled her eyes and moved to join her parents as well. The two families departed the dining hall, escorted to the Manor door by father’s most loyal house-elf.
“You’ll be riding with the Zabini boy tomorrow, Draco,” Lucius turned to his son as soon as the guests were gone. “We must keep up appearances after all.”
“Of course, Father,” he replied, reeling in the frown he could feel twitching on his lips.
He wasn’t a big fan of Blaise. He was an annoying prat most of the time, and Draco would have been quite happy never having to associate with the other boy ever again. But that, as much as Draco would have liked, was not an option. As his father had just reminded him, they had to keep up appearances. And if his parents had to interact with people they loathed to keep themselves established as the alpha family of the wizarding world, then so did their son.
“Perhaps you should head to bed, dear,” Narcissa said in what Draco believed was supposed to be a sweet tone. “You have a full day tomorrow, and your father and I have things to discuss.”
Draco nodded, knowing that his mother was simply shooing him away so that she could discuss their guests with his father. “Night, Mother. Father.”
His father nodded in acknowledgement, and Narcissa smiled at Draco, a genuine smile that she only reserved for him. Draco often wondered if she were the only Malfoy who had all the proper muscles and knowledge for the simple gesture. When any other Malfoy took on the expression, it was never genuine. It was always cunning, manipulative. It was the type of smile all Malfoys were known for.
Narcissa Malfoy wouldn’t be caught dead giving anyone a pure, genuine smile. Anyone but him.
But Draco didn’t return the smile; he rarely did in the presence of his father. He simply nodded to his parents and exited the hall.
As he made his way to his room, he found himself welcoming a year at Hogwarts since it would mean fewer of these insistent dinners and their annoying guests.
Until then, however, he’d have to keep up appearances.
It was his father’s motto in life, after all.
Author: Tonya (tigerlily1998@hotmail.com)
Disclaimer: No own, no sue.
Rating: Gish
Summary: In the Malfoy home, it’s all about appearances.
A/N: This was written for blaar_rosir for the Draco Malfoy Ficathon. She wanted a pre-Hogwarts character study of life as a Malfoy. And no mention of the Golden Trio.
********
Draco Malfoy sat at the dining table, absently poking at his plate as he tried not to slip into what could have become a rather entertaining coma at this rate.
The Malfoy home was no stranger to dinners, Lucius and Narcissa taking joy in opening their manor up to the other well-established families in the area. Not that they enjoyed the actual company of their guests; Draco had overheard them on many an occasion discussing their so-called welcomed guests with much displeasure and disdain after their dinners. It wasn’t the idea of mingling with these people that enticed his parents to keep inviting them back. Rather, they had these dinners to keep themselves established as the most noble, most powerful--not to mention, one of the richest--of the wizarding families. Dinners were not about good-hearted laughter and conversation with friends. They were about showing people the prestige the Malfoy name brought to those lucky enough to bear it.
Tonight the families in attendance were the Parkinsons and the Zabinis.
Draco looked up from his plate to see what the others on his silent end of the table were doing. Pansy was stirring her soup hypnotically, her gaze following the silver spoon’s path through the fluid. She heaved a quiet sigh and began to stir in the opposite direction. Beside her, Blaise appeared to be paying attention to the conversation that the adults were having. He sat perfectly upright, his eyes never leaving their general direction as he lifted his fork to his mouth. To the untrained eye, he appeared the perfect son--listening and nodding slightly--when his father made some declaration….
To the untrained eye.
Draco smirked as he watched Blaise’s eyes glaze over more with each passing second, his façade crumbling away into absolute and utter boredom. Draco gave him another five minutes of looking attentive and nodding before he’d give up trying to impress the elders and let the boredom of it all truly sink in.
Draco sighed, turning his attention back to his uneaten veal as he faintly registered a discussion starting about Hogwarts.
He had received his letter of invitation in the post two days before, as had every other of age wizard and witch in the town. Upon its arrival, he had regarded the letter with indifference.
What was the point of becoming excited by something he knew was to happen?
He expected the letter in much the same manner he expected to be sorted into the Slytherin house on his first day. In the history of Malfoys, there had not been one that had not been sorted into that house, and Draco knew he was no exception. Not that he ever wanted to be in those other houses, especially after hearing about each of them from his father. Gryffindors were nothing more than attention-whores. Ravenclaws were geniuses who had no clue how to use their intelligence to their personal benefit and gain. And the Hufflepuffs? Well, there was nothing to say about them that was worth wasting precious breath and energy.
Slytherin was a step above all of them. Slytherin was where he rightfully belonged.
“I had hopes that Albus Dumbledore would be duly expelled from his position by the time Draco entered.”
At his name, Draco became instantly attentive, his inner dwellings coming to a screeching halt. Imitating Blaise’s previous stance, Draco sat straighter in his chair, his gaze focused in the direction of his father. It was one thing to be inattentive when the adults were lost amongst their discussion of Ministry issues and other affairs, but it was another to be glassy-eyed when his father spoke to or of him.
“No matter,” Lucius continued, throwing a glance in Draco’s general direction. “His time will come soon enough.”
Draco nodded slightly as if he had been listening the entire time. He watched as his father’s gaze turned back to their guests, and he relaxed a bit in his chair.
Mr. Zabini nodded in agreement, raising his wine glass to his lips. He chuckled against the rim of his glass before speaking. “He’ll probably keep an intrusive eye on them much like he did us during our days in the halls.”
Lucius scowled deeply. “He’d do best to leave all Slytherins, past and present, to their own devices.”
The conversation gradually shifted from Hogwarts to new happenings within the Ministry, and Draco returned to his previous catatonic state.
Time seemed to drag on endlessly, the main course being replaced by dessert and the dessert being replaced by nothing but empty plates. Only when he heard the familiar sounds of chairs pushing back from the dining table did Draco finally acknowledge his surroundings with something more than a dull stare.
All parties stood, Draco included, as the three families bid their goodnights. His father shook the hands of Mr. Zabini and Mr. Parkinson while his mother exchanged simple cheek kisses with their wives. Draco smirked slightly as he looked on, knowing that once their guests were gone, those friendly gestures would be nothing but a distant, bitter memory for his parents.
“We’re going riding tomorrow,” Blaise said as their parents made plans for another dinner. “You can join if you like.”
Draco nodded indifferently.
Blaise seemed pleased by this noncommittal response and went to stand at his mother’s side. Pansy simply rolled her eyes and moved to join her parents as well. The two families departed the dining hall, escorted to the Manor door by father’s most loyal house-elf.
“You’ll be riding with the Zabini boy tomorrow, Draco,” Lucius turned to his son as soon as the guests were gone. “We must keep up appearances after all.”
“Of course, Father,” he replied, reeling in the frown he could feel twitching on his lips.
He wasn’t a big fan of Blaise. He was an annoying prat most of the time, and Draco would have been quite happy never having to associate with the other boy ever again. But that, as much as Draco would have liked, was not an option. As his father had just reminded him, they had to keep up appearances. And if his parents had to interact with people they loathed to keep themselves established as the alpha family of the wizarding world, then so did their son.
“Perhaps you should head to bed, dear,” Narcissa said in what Draco believed was supposed to be a sweet tone. “You have a full day tomorrow, and your father and I have things to discuss.”
Draco nodded, knowing that his mother was simply shooing him away so that she could discuss their guests with his father. “Night, Mother. Father.”
His father nodded in acknowledgement, and Narcissa smiled at Draco, a genuine smile that she only reserved for him. Draco often wondered if she were the only Malfoy who had all the proper muscles and knowledge for the simple gesture. When any other Malfoy took on the expression, it was never genuine. It was always cunning, manipulative. It was the type of smile all Malfoys were known for.
Narcissa Malfoy wouldn’t be caught dead giving anyone a pure, genuine smile. Anyone but him.
But Draco didn’t return the smile; he rarely did in the presence of his father. He simply nodded to his parents and exited the hall.
As he made his way to his room, he found himself welcoming a year at Hogwarts since it would mean fewer of these insistent dinners and their annoying guests.
Until then, however, he’d have to keep up appearances.
It was his father’s motto in life, after all.