Chapter Text
Family Legacy.
July 31th, 1991.
“Sit.”
Father was used to issuing commands. It came to him smoothly and naturally, shaped and reinforced by a lifetime, or rather the inheritance of lifetimes. Draco entered the room, her pace measured carefully. Not too slowly, nor too quickly, not casually, nor overly stiff. Precisely, just as expected. She took a seat across from Lucius Malfoy. He stared intently at the glass of brandy in his hands, as if expecting her to begin.
Her mind raced, trying to dismantle this latest test quickly. Everything done by her Father was deliberate. He was dressed for work at the Ministry, yet this was a day he had set aside for her preparations for Hogwarts. He called her to this particular parlor in their manor, something ordinarily reserved for business meetings and hosting those who owed Lucius a favor, or who he had to gain from. His eyes lifted from the drink and studied her closely. She stared back, matching the intensity of his gaze with some difficulty, her hands tightening along the hem of her brand-new robes, pale hands straining to snow-white. Still, he didn’t speak.
She realized her mistake too late. The tense silence was a trap. She still had much to learn. “You called for me, Father?” She kept her voice respectful, an even tone she reserved for his little tests. His lips quirked into a smirk as he drank from the glass and leaned back. “Indeed. It’s time you receive your instructions for your first year at Hogwarts.”
That...admittedly threw her for a loop. Instructions? Was he finally trusting her with family business?
“Of course, what would you have me do?” He gestured to the side; the portraits of Malfoys past arranged to the heights of individual glories and personal achievement. Draco often studied them when she was young, eager to compare herself and earn a place on the walls. The animated portrait of Lucius himself watched her as intently as the real one across the carpet. Immaculate dress robes, a polished silver cane, shaking hands with Minister Fudge. Lucius had pulled strings to secure just enough support to lift Fudge into the office of Minister of Magic, and in turn, Cornelius had owed him ever since that fateful day. Few wizards could claim to have someone so influential in their pockets.
“This will be your first year at Hogwarts, my dear. Your classes will challenge you, and you will emerge the stronger for it. You are a Malfoy, after all. Excellence is the hallmark of our blood. But,” he paused for dramatic effect. His voice hypnotic by long practice, “classes will not be your only task. See to it that you conduct yourself to the utmost degree and hold yourself to our high standards.”
She nodded intently, his message already crystalline clear. “Of course Father, I won’t disappoint you and Mother. I’ll get top marks in every class, just you-” She stopped, his hand raised in objection.
“See to it that you acquire friends, Draco.”
Again, he threw her for a loop.
“Friends?” She asked, not quite understanding.
“Allies. Acquaintances. Partners, if you will. I have faith that you will shine as expected, but your classes are not merely a means to demonstrate knowledge and skill.” He leaned in, his tone conspiratorial and eyes set firmly.
“Our kind excel not merely through competence, but by establishing connections.” Again, he gestured to the portraits. Portrait Lucius smirked proudly as the lesson was conveyed to his living heir.
“I expect weekly letters. See to it you turn others to your banner. Charm them, get them to your debt. I’ll see to it your purse is well-sated if it becomes necessary for this task.”
Draco remained silent for a time, letting the orders ring through her mind. It made sense. It was certainly within her capabilities. She was a charming girl, a noble pure-blooded Witch of a wealthy and well-connected house. It would be trivial, certainly,
“And be mindful. There will be others acting in the same fashion. If your education is as mired in politics and petty noble dramas as mine was, your attention will be pulled in many directions. Speak to me should you need advice.” Draco felt a weight lift from her shoulders. Father was offering her help with this task. She stiffened and forced herself to relax, already considering the myriad ways to approach her new family duties.
“Of course, Father. I’ll make you proud.” She smiled. An inheritance from her mother. Lucius hid his own behind the glass of brandy, draining the drink before he set it aside on the trembling plate held by a silent house-elf, waiting beside his chair. He snapped, and the creature stole away on bandaged feet, leaving the pair alone.
A silence returned, Lucius had conveyed his instructions, but Draco noticed he had not yet given her leave to exit. Thus...
“Furthermore, there will be someone in attendance this year. Watch them closely. Earn their good grace and make them your accomplice, if possible.”
Draco looked quizzically at him. A final order for her, secret enough to dismiss the house-help?
“The Boy-Who-Lived is expected this year. I have nothing on him beyond what is public already. Dumbledore hid him well. I suspect he has been raised among Muggles, sadly.”
“Muggles? Him!? You want me to degrade myself to that?”
His voice hardened with his gaze. “I suggest nothing of the sort.
I am ordering you to watch him.
I am ordering you to make him one of us, by hook or by crook.”
The flare of indignation was smothered as quickly as it rose in Draco, cowed by the weight of voice and intent in her Father. She could suffer embarrassment and pride for as long as it took. She was a Malfoy, after all. They had a reputation to uphold, and a legacy to keep.
“I...understand.”
He rose quietly, laying a cold hand on her shoulder, a rare affection.
“You’ll do us proud, my dear Draco. I know it.”