Chapter Text
"Mate!" Blaise’s deep, groggy voice boomed from the bedroom door. "Turn your fucking phone off! I can hear it from here, and I'm not ready to leave my bed yet."
Draco begrudgingly opened his eyes, flinching and pinching them close as bright, searing sunlight beat against his retinas. He fumbled blindly, smacking the top of the coffee table until his hand landed on a vibrating phone.
9.04 a.m. stared back at him from the ungodly bright screen of his cell phone as he cracked his eyes.
“Fuck!” Draco exclaimed, stretching on the slightly uncomfortable couch in Blaise's living quarters.
“What?” Blaise's growl echoed from the bedroom.
“Father has called seven times.”
“Well. Fuck indeed,” came the groggy voice from the bedroom before Draco heard shuffle and clatter from the adjacent room. “Even I have two missed calls from the great and powerful Lucius Malfoy.”
“Oh, just great,” Draco sighed. “He's even sent a message.”
“Lucius Malfoy, Earl of Wiltshire, sent a text?” A ruffle of sheets and a few groans sounded before Blaise Zabini shuffled from his room, followed by the two conquests of the previous night. “You’re fucked, mate.”
Draco sat slowly, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he read the message from his father.
Draco, where are you? I expect you home promptly. We are due to welcome the Greengrass family into our home prior to the Royal Entrance. It is vital we impress the Greengrass’s if we truly strive to reach a Dukedom, in the near future.
LM
Blaise must’ve spotted the sour expression on Draco’s face. “What’s wrong?”
Draco glanced over to the pair of unfamiliar faces now relaxing on the couch opposite him and back to his best friend. The insinuation seemed to dawn on the Italian, who nodded, pacing to his callers.
“Zach, Fay,” he addressed the pair with a slight question in his tone. Draco wondered if those were even their names. “Last night was fun, but I need you out now. It seems Draco and I need to have a chat in private.” He ushered the two up off the couch, a hand slipping to both of their backs as he led them to the door. “Henry should be in the hall. He can order you both a taxi. It was a pleasure, as always. Don't call me.”
“Spill,” Blaise demanded, as soon as his conquests left the room utterly bewildered.
“Just the usual. Arranged marriages to climb the social ladder,” Draco sighed, running a firm hand down his face, pausing at his eyes to rub the residue sleep from his tired eyes. “Not everyone meets the love of their life in prep school.”
Blaise laughed gruffly before questioning, “Still wants to boost the family up to a Dukedom?”
“Father so graciously gave me until my 23rd birthday to find the ‘love of my life,’” Draco scoffed with an eye roll. “Have you seen the girls we met during our time at Eton? No particular marriage material there.”
"And if I don't get home now, Mother won't be able to hold him back from approving a contract," he bemoaned, rising from the couch a bit stiffly and gathering his belongings. “See you at the Royal Gloucestershire Horse Show this afternoon?”
“I’ll try to bail you out, mate,” Blaise winked. “Or at least supply you with enough booze to forget.”
Draco used the drive back to the Malfoy Estate in his Aston Martin to help clear his mind and suppress his anger. When he drove up the path to the Country Estate, he was almost sure he could fully compose himself before he came face to face with his father.
Rushing through the hidden back entrance in the hopes of not being seen, did him no good. His mother was already waiting impatiently at the top of the stairs, tapping her foot on the bespoke carpet and her lips pursed.
“Draco,” Narcissa Malfoy intoned, looking ethereal in a long, pale green dress, paired with a tastefully elaborate hat meant for the event later in the day.
“Mother,” he greeted back with a short nod of his head.
“Where were you?” She sought, barring his ascent to his quarters.
“I had one too many drinks at Blaise’s last night,” he shrugged. “I drove there myself so I couldn’t drive back while under the influence, Mother.”
“Draco, dear,” Narcissa started with snark in her tone. “We contract a 24-hour car service, which I imagine you were not drunk enough to forget. Though, it is possible, seeing as you did not pick up your Father’s numerous calls this morning.”
“Yes, Mother, I am aware I could've called a car, but that didn’t happen. May I please just go to my room now and freshen up?” He asked with a groan attempting to step around his mother. “I wouldn't want to anger Father any further,” he added, and could nearly taste the condescension of his statement on his tongue.
“Hurry now. Brunch is in half an hour,” Narcissa demanded as she quickly brushed her lips against his cheek.
After a brief shower, Draco dressed in his navy morning dress suit, damn he hated that thing normal suits were much more comfortable. The waistcoat felt a little too constricting for his current hungover state. It was supposed to be a tight fit to show off his svelte figure, but it was pressed a little too firmly against his stomach which left him feeling incredibly nauseous.
He ran a hand through his hair, glancing at the accessory on his bathroom counter. He didn’t want to don the utterly ridiculous top hat. It would ruin his hair, and he wasn’t in the mood to look like a 19th-century gentleman. Not until he had to.
Every fibre of his being begged him to rush out the back door, hop in his car and drive until the tank ran dry, but with his Mother on the warpath he did the only thing he could and that was to shuffle into the drawing-room striving to not anger his father any further. However, based on the look of utter disappointment written on Lucius' face, he was too late. The last time his father had sneered so deeply, Draco had ruined the Estate’s ballroom partying with his Eton friends the day before the annual Malfoy Charity Event.
“So, you finally surface, where is your hat?” Lucius demanded from his seat in the drawing-room.
Of course, he would find the one thing wrong with Draco’s attire.
“Father, I did not want to ruin my hair,” Draco remarked. “There is ample time before the event to don it. And I am sure Astoria would appreciate the ability to look me in the eye.”
Draco knew his father wouldn’t be able to argue with this logic.
“Fine,” Lucius huffed. “Just behave, will you? This is an important deal.”
Narcissa tutted, setting a soft hand on her husband's shoulder. “Dear, do not make it sound so clinical. There are feelings involved.”
“No, Mother, it’s all business," Draco growled. "If there was even a minute chance that I didn't have to do this, I wouldn’t. I’m certain of that.”
“Let’s not discuss this now. The Greengrass’s are nearly here,” Lucius stated, ending the discussion with a derisive sneer.
“Fine by me,” Draco said as he turned towards the sideboard and poured himself a glass of brandy much to his Mother’s disappointed glare.
Narcissa tried to start a casual conversation several times to fill the quiet, but both men sat stone-faced. Draco nursed the glass delicately, wishing that he had thought to take a few painkillers before leaving Blaise’s house. After a deafening awkward silence, a distinct knock rang through the house.
All three Malfoys stood as Charles, the butler, opened the door, pronouncing, “The Greengrass’s, Duke and Duchess of Gloucester. And their daughters: Lady Daphne and Lady Astoria.”
“Good morning,” Lucius greeted their visitors as Charles led them into the drawing-room. “How was the drive down?”
“We could have hosted at our Country Estate, Lucius. It is much closer to the event grounds,” Lord Nicolas Greengrass remarked, eyes glancing around with a measure of distaste. The surroundings of the Malfoy Estate clearly not up to par with his usual environment.
“I wanted to show that even though our estate might not be as grand as yours, we are very capable of hosting on the highest level,” Lucius defended, raising a cup of tea to his lips.
“Your estate is beautiful, and your hosting skills are impeccable,” Lady Meliae Greengrass offered, seeking to relieve the awkward tension in the drawing-room.
“Father, is it possible for me to give Lady Astoria a tour of the estate?” Draco asked with false politeness, desperate for any escape from the tension-filled room.
“I think that is a lovely idea, darling. Don't you agree, Lucius?” Narcissa pitched in.
“I can chaperone them,” Daphne offered eagerly, jumping in at the chance to leave the room.
“A wonderful idea Daphne,” Lady Greengrass appraised her daughter. “That’s something we simply can’t refuse, can we, Lucius?”
“No, I think that’s acceptable,” Lucius begrudgingly answered. “If Lord Greengrass is accommodating?” he looked over to the Duke, who only replied with a curt nod.
Draco rose from his chair, quickly walked around the table to help Astoria and Daphne out of theirs. The three of them tried to hurry out of the room in the most proper way possible without revealing that they rather were anywhere else than in the company of their parents.
“Draco, dear,” Narcissa’s voice made him turn around just as he was about to reach the door. “Don’t be too long, we’ve still got an event to attend.”
“Damn, I’m glad we are out of there,” Daphne sighed heavily the moment the door to the drawing-room closed.
“I’m way too hungover for this family business shit,” Draco groaned in agreement, flinching slightly at the volume of Daphne’s voice.
“You’re hungover?” she asked at an equally painful decibel. “Damn, I feel for you,” Daphne said.
“What do you guys want to see?” Draco queried, thoughts of each magnificent aspect of the estate floating through his mind. “Or we could just head to the kitchens and grab some comfort food? If you ladies are okay with that?”
“That’s totally fine, Draco,” Astoria finally pitched in, voice only slightly more bearable as her sisters.
On his walk to the kitchen, he happened to walk next to the youngest Greengrass sister. “So, I gather that you don’t want to do this either?” She asked him as they passed the grand hall.
“No,” he said with finality, turning to face her. “No offence. I'm sure you are lovely. However, I’d rather not marry just for my father to further his political agenda.”
“None taken,” Astoria assured him. “I’m not particularly happy about this arrangement either,”
“Ouch,” Daphne cackled from behind them. Was this woman constantly at full volume? “You could expand that a bit more Tori. His ego is huge, and that would certainly bruise it.”
“I, uh, am seeing someone,” Astoria explained. “Their social standing and gender aren’t up to par with what my parents want for me, however.”
“We’ll think of something,” Draco uttered, unsure if it was actually true but still somehow wanting to console the girl.
The drive up to the event grounds was a lot less relaxing than his drive home that morning, even though he rested in the passenger seat and his personal chauffeur, Harry, drove his Aston Martin skilfully. The implications of what would happen when he’d step out of the car with Astoria on his side had him shifting nervously in his seat. The atmosphere in the back of the car wasn’t much better. Astoria’s gaze was set on the passing landscape on the outside of the car and after just a couple minutes in Daphne had stopped trying to make conversation with the other people in the car, resigning to gazing out at the passing landscape herself.
“Must we truly ‘come out’ as a couple?” Draco asked finally cutting the silence when he recognized they were mere miles from their destination. He sighed deeply, rubbing his forehead to try to relieve the building stress. “Why did we leave our parents alone to plot?”
“Don’t stress, Draco,” Daphne responded. “I’ll try and find something that’s enough for our parents but won’t ruin your precious reputation too much. If you insist on fishing in Blaise’s usual pond of conquests, however, you wouldn’t need to have any reputation to find your future wife.”
The event grounds were fast approaching. There were already photographers a mile out from the car park, hoping to catch a candid scene from the cars without tinted windows.
“Wait in the car, I’ll get your door,” Draco intoned before he stepped out to the flashes of the paparazzi. Guiding Daphne and Astoria out of the car as smoothly as the impractical car would allow, he gave a small smirk to the nearest camera as he usually did at events. These pictures would be on the gossip sites within a couple of hours. And It was better to keep the paparazzi happy, otherwise, you’d never know where they’d show up next.
Draco felt the tension in his jaw growing as he ascended the steps leading to their box. Luckily, when he walked into the Royal Enclosure, Blaise was already standing against the railing holding two glasses of Gin-Tonic, sipping one casually.
“To the new couple,” Blaise laughed, raising one glass in cheers with a shit-eating grin before handing it to Draco.
"Piss off," Draco growled but greedily accepted the proffered drink as he sank into a plush seat.
The first event of the day was the dressage, which was not at all spectacular. Draco and Blaise spent the time simply drinking and mingling with the other guests in the box. Draco spotted Astoria talking to a redheaded girl from the catering staff, rather a lot, actually. And he was certain he had witnessed them sneak off for a bit.
The jumping event started sometime later, and Draco couldn't help but focus as action finally echoed in the stadium. One by one, riders flowed through the course with skill, though none were too impressive. However, when the seventh participant displayed expert mastery, racing through the course in record time with no faults, he found himself mildly impressed.
His eyes followed her closely around the pit, lingering as she paused before exiting the ring. The cascade of brown curls billowing down her back as she removed her cap and released her ponytail, nearly took Draco's breath away. It seemed like his eyes were glued to the mesmerizing sight, and it wasn't until Blaise spoke that he realized his mouth hung slightly open.
“Mate, you’re staring,” Blaise cut through his haze. “And watch your drink,” he said, gesturing to the glass in Draco’s hand that was leaning precariously in his hand.
“Uh, what?” Draco stammered.
“You are staring at the gorgeous brunette down there so much it looks like you’ll catch flies,” Blaise elaborated.
“Uhm,” Draco shook his head trying to regain focus, standing quickly. “Do you want another drink? I think I’ll get us a scotch.”
“Hermione Jean Granger, 25, best rider in England,” Blaise winked as Draco returned with the drinks.
“What?” Draco sought.
“The brunette. Her name is Hermione Granger,” Blaise explained. “Keep up, will you?"
Hermione Jean Granger. Draco repeated the name in his mind and couldn't deny its beauty. She was stunning, just like the syllables of her name. Was it a fluke to see the girl of his dreams the day his father had practically signed his life away? Or was it simply more cursed luck?