Chapter Text
The snow crunched beneath Draco’s feet as he approached Malfoy Manor. The cold air bit at his cheeks, but he was too lost in thought to notice. He knew why his mother had invited him to join the dinner on this day. It was the yearly Christmas Gala, she was holding.
They had worked hard to make sure that the Malfoy name after the war was no longer immediately partnered up with The Dark Lord, and it was now five years that Narcissa Malfoy could hold her highly sought after Christmas Gala.
And as much as Narcissa loved it, Draco… wasn’t a fan. Not really, at least.
It was just a night of people pretending to get along, showcasing their wealth and happiness. Behind the scene, everyone was sad and annoyed, at least Draco thought so.
As he stepped through the grand doors, he was greeted by the familiar scent of pine needles and cinnamon. His mother, Narcissa, was standing by the fireplace, a warm smile on her face. She was unusally dressed up for a random day where she had asked him to arrive. She was dressed in a flowing emerald green gown, the fabric shimmering under the soft glow of the firelight. A delicate silver necklace adorned her neck, and her hair, usually tied up in an elegant bun, was now loose, cascading down her shoulders in soft waves.
“Draco, my dear” she said, her voice filled with genuine surprise, as if she hadn’t expected him to show up. Or maybe it was because for once he was early. “It's good to have you home.”
Draco returned her smile, although it felt a little forced. “Mother” he began, looking around. She had already started decoration, even if it wasn’t excessive yet, he could see the boxes in the corners. As soon as he would leave, she’d continue, most likely. “You wanted to speak with me.”
Narcissa laughed softly and nodded. “Yes, I thought it would be nice to celebrate the holidays with a few of our friends. You know, the kind of people who have always been loyal to us.”
Almost… Draco almost asked whether the Ministry people had always been loyal to them, but he didn’t, keeping her in her pretence.
“Sure” he said instead. “So, why did you call me here then?”
Narcissa gestured towards the imposing round table that dominated the centre of the party room. It was a relic, crafted from ancient, gnarled wood, rumoured to have once graced the very halls of Merlin himself. Though the veracity of such tales was questionable, the table's grandeur was undeniable.
“A centrepiece worthy of such a legendary table” Narcissa mused, her gaze sweeping over the ornate decorations that adorned the room. “But what could possibly be grand enough?”
Draco sighed. “Oh please no. Mother!”
She smiled at him innocently. “Yes, dear?”
“Last year, I brought about a thousand people and you told me that we only hand the work to the Christmas tree decorator, because you were desperate. I can’t redo this again!”
“Then don’t, Dragon.” She said it, as if it was the clearest thing to say or do.
Draco raised his eyebrows. “Please… at least give me some kind of information…”
“I don’t know what this room needs, however, dear, I know that you can find something worthy of praise. I’ll give you three days to find something. If you haven’t” she sighed at that thought, “I will cancel the Gala.”
“What?!” Draco stared at her in shock and confusion. “But you love the Gala?! Why would you do that?”
Narcissa didn’t say anything, simply looked at him, a mask of no emotions on. Draco wouldn’t read if she would really do this or if it was an empty threat. “You have three days.”
Okay, that sounded less like an empty threat and more like a promise. Shit.
“I’ll find something.”
“You better, Dragon. I was looking forward to that Gala.”