Chapter Text
The first time you formally met Draco Malfoy was the summer before your first year at Hogwarts. Sure, you’d seen him around at galas and functions of the sort before- how could you miss the white of his gelled hair? However, you were now to know him as your potential husband and father of your hypothetical pureblood heirs.
The thought of it made your lip curl in disgust and bile rise in your throat, leaving a horrid taste lingering in the back of your throat.
Being 10 years of age, you knew very little about arranged marriages. However, all you needed to know was that you absolutely, positively did not want to have one- especially to the pasty blonde boy who could not recognise what too much hair gel looked like.
“So I trust that the two of you take this responsibility seriously and are just as happy with this arrangement as we are,” Your father concluded his explanation of the arrangement to the both of you with firm authority, nodding towards his dear friend, Lucius Malfoy, from his stance at your manor's grand fireplace.
Your mothers were seated together on your elegant day room furniture, speaking distantly in hushed whispers of earnest delight. You spared a glance at their happy figures from your father’s study.
“Of course, Father, Mr Malfoy,” You nodded politely, bowing with a slight curtsey- exactly as you had been trained. Draco’s gaze watched your movements before repeating the sentiment in manners similar to yours- exactly as he’d been trained.
“You are both dismissed,” Mr Malfoy commanded as he waved the both of you off to the sound of your father’s instructions, “Why don’t you take Draco on a tour of the manor, Darling?”
You nodded before turning swiftly to meet your mothers in the day room, plotting a way to avoid following your father’s orders. Draco followed you silently without an ounce of protest, which irritated you. But you’d rather not complain, knowing the sound of his voice would probably infuriate you more.
“I think this summer will be such a great opportunity for our little angels to get to know each other,” Narcissa Malfoy gushed to your mother from her seat on the chaise beside her.
The little Malfoy puffed his chest with a boastful smirk and an animated nod of approval at his mother’s words before casting his gaze towards you. From his pompous attitude to the sneer of his chubby cheeks, it all gave your little figure the urge to stomp around in rage.
You refused to meet his eyes.
“I completely agree, Narcissa,” Your mother’s eyes crinkled around the edges in the way you recognised as joy. You decided against voicing your true thoughts on the matter to her later on as you wanted.
“What do you think, Y/N, Darling?” All eyes fell to you at your mother’s inquiry.
“I don’t see any angels here,” You mumbled under your breath.
“What was that, darling?”
“What’s summer without forming new attachments?” You were mischievous, sure- but you had to be, especially if you wanted to make Slytherin in your upcoming year of Hogwarts like your family had planned.
All you needed to do was find a way to get rid of the trailing significant other-to-be.
Your mothers seemed satisfied with your answer, allowing a well-practised chuckle to fall from their lips, all poise and grace.
“If you’ll excuse us, I was instructed to give Draco a tour,” You smiled politely; your mothers thought it was a splendid idea for the two of you kids, dismissing you both with nods.
-
When the both of you were out of parental sight, you stalked off with so much vigour Draco certainly got whiplash.
“Hey!” He called from behind you, tone hushed as he watched your furious figure speed down the hallways. “Stop at once!” He called, louder this time, “Where do you think you’re going?”
Like he had any authority , you scoffed at the distant sound of his complaints.
Despite the rage, your movements were graceful, much to your disapproval- if you were going to make a scene, you much preferred for your actions not to undermine you.
Soon the blonde managed to catch up with your fast steps, grabbing your arm and causing you to stop in your tracks.
You pulled your arm forcefully from his grip, disgusted at the contact. “Don’t touch me!” Your voice inherited your father’s authority, despite not having turned 11 yet, like the blonde standing in front of you.
Your outburst briefly stunned the boy beside you, his mouth falling agape in confusion. You huffed in annoyance, brushing the loose strands of hair behind your ear.
He instantly stepped back, no etiquette lesson properly trained him to appropriately respond to all this . His hands were pressed firmly by his sides as he watched you with careful contemplation before composing himself. With his nose aimed firmly at the sky, he started to talk.
“For the sake of formal introductions, and the fact that you are to one day be my wife -” Merlin , the sound of that word leaving the mouth of this little child made your cheeks flare red with rage and your palms form tense fists. You suppressed a scoff.
“-I’ll look past your little tantrum,” The little Malfoy so generously declared. Your pristine nails dug crescents into your palms. “And allow you to start over.” He nodded as if it was all decided at his command- you hated that.
When your battle to remain in composure left the boy with no response, he extended his right arm towards you, brow raised in expectancy, “I’m Malfoy, Draco Malfoy.”
He waited for you to take it. You didn’t.
Instead, it took less than a few seconds for the blonde’s hand to lay limp against your manor’s fine carpet- along with the rest of his body.
He clutched his stomach in agony.
It all happened so fast that your fist was only now feeling the repercussions of punching the Malfoy boy in the gut. You shook your hand frantically in an attempt to shake away the pain.
Oops .
“Oi! Why you little twat!” He exclaimed from his posture on the ground, scrambling to stand back up to regain somewhat of the authority. His face contorted into a scowl, his nose scrunched in rage and utter disapproval.
His cheeks were flushed pink in both being absolutely winded by the sheer strength of your blow and the embarrassment of having to pick himself up off the floor.
The paintings of your ancestry decorating your hallway had their share of commentary, most of which made your mouth twitch up in a prideful smirk.
Were you proud of your actions that day? No. Did you behave in the way in which you were raised? Definitely not. Did he deserve to get punched? After much contemplation, no (but yes). Would you do it again? Absolutely.
“I’ll say this once, Malfoy: I will never be your wife,” You were slightly taller than him, making the threat of your words ooze with seriousness.
Point, L/N!
With your fear-producing scowl, you backed off his figure and hoped this would not get back to your parents.
-
You were wrong.
Oh were you so, so wrong.
After your small outburst- punching crybaby Malfoy, threatening him, the lot- the little git tattled on you to his father, making the following conversation with the assembly of parents an awkward one.
You should’ve seen this coming- of course, he’d come crying to his father. That crybaby .
“I apologise for my brief lapse in conduct,” You kept your gaze from crybaby Malfoy’s boastful expression.
He was standing between his parents’ towering stances as his gleeful little smirk watched the scorn of his parents linger thickly in the air.
Point, Malfoy!
“I’m afraid I don’t know what came over me,” Your well-practised veil of innocence looked up at your father, to Mr Malfoy, your mother, to Narcissa.
Your father nodded in acknowledgement. However, you knew this would not come without repercussions. Your mother’s head tilted in feigned empathy, the intensity of her eyes could be recognised as irritation and they were burning daggers into your small frame. To your luck, she went away with Narcissa to further apologise on your behalf.
Lucius Malfoy was the last to react, his face stoic as his lips parted to speak, “I will forgive this little outburst,” He addressed your father, “However, such behaviour does put the family on the fence about the direction of this agreement,”
This could work , your eyes sparkled in mischief. Maybe your tantrum , in the crybaby’s words, could be ammunition enough to shoot down your parents’ fantasy of some future wedding between the two of you.
The glint didn’t go unnoticed by the Malfoy heir, causing him to frown deeply. He wouldn’t let you win that easily.
“No worries, Father,” The Malfoy heir speaks at once, “She has proven to be quite effective in combat and a fierce partner. One brief lapse in conduct can surely be resolved in the opportunities to come,”
He was grinning now, watching your playful expression fade as your brows furrowed.
You took the opportunity to look at him; how badly you wished to go for a second round. His smug smirk looked particularly desirable for your next target- how you wished to punch it right off.
“As you wish, Draco.” Lucius curtly nods as Draco feigns his best impression of a victim’s forgiveness before Lucius turned to your father with a look of agreement.
That pesky little git!