He couldn't approve of Granger either; she was too brash and shrewish. Although, Draco mused, if they had to sponsor a muggleborn, sponsoring the most intelligent in their year was probably acceptable. And it seemed from his last interactions with her that Granger had learned some manners from Andromeda. Simeon's wife Anna though was, like his Uncle Ted, decent enough for a muggleborn; a little too Hufflepuffish but she was attractive and also well-mannered. Simeon's manners were perfect. Evidently Marius Black had taught his son well even if Marius had himself been a squib. Simeon moved with a contained power not unlike Sirius.
A shiver ran down Draco's spine at the thought of the Head of the House of Black. Sirius Black was every bit as menacing as the Daily Prophet had made him out to be. His power was only just contained; it shimmered on his skin. Draco remembered what his mother had said when he had questioned her about him…
"Sirius was the best and the worst of us." His mother picked up the tea-cup and blew on it gently before taking a sip. Her blue eyes took on a far-away gaze, directed at the past and her memory. "I remember the Summer before Sirius started Hogwarts, we had a Summer Ball at the country estate and Bella ruined my dress robes to get me into trouble with my mother – they never believed Bella was anything but innocent because she was their favourite. Sirius found me in tears and…and he took the blame for it. My father hit him and would have beaten him further, but Lord Arcturus stepped in and said that he would punish Sirius. Sirius protected us all that way."
She took another sip of tea.
"That protection though when you crossed someone he loved especially Regulus…" his mother sighed, "Bella was often bored. One day, she pushed Regulus down a few steps. He was eight years old and mostly he was bruised with a grazed elbow at the end of it. Andy patched him up but he clung to Sirius afterwards. The next day, Sirius taunted Bella at the top of the main stairs and when she sprang for him…he waited until the last moment and suddenly moved. She fell down the stairs badly. We all rushed down after her. She was lying there, blood around her head and both her arms were all twisted, her leg broken, and I remember instead of helping her like he'd immediately done with Regulus, Sirius stooped and whispered in her ear that the next time she hurt Regulus he would kill her. Our parents came and Sirius as a cool as a cucumber said Bella had slipped. She was in St Mungo's for a week."
Draco swallowed hard.
"It's hard to imagine that Regulus ended up betraying Sirius but he did. He attacked Sirius once at Hogwarts just before Sirius graduated trying to impress the Dark Lord, maybe trying to prove that his mother was right and he was the new Black Heir since Sirius had left home. Sirius put down four of Regulus's little friends before James Potter arrived to help him. Only Sirius and James were standing at the end of it with Regulus out cold on the ground. Regulus told me Sirius visited him in the infirmary in the middle of the night and told him that he'd gone easy on him because he was his brother, but the next time Regulus tried to kill him, Sirius wouldn't be so merciful."
His mother finally looked at him. "So you see, it would be best not to anger Lord Black. If you hurt one hair on Potter's head…well, I doubt you'll have hair left when he's finished with you. Do you understand?"
Draco nodded.
A loud peacock cry from the grounds snapped Draco's attention back to the present. Yes, he didn't want to anger Lord Black or have his attention. It had been bad enough during the family meeting. He flushed remembering the biting tone and derisive eyes that had dismissed Draco as unimportant and lacking. No, he feared and respected Sirius Black. He was a powerful wizard; a true Lord Black – worthy of the title. Draco didn't wish to cross him.
There were material benefits in being in the House of the Black, Draco considered thoughtfully: Sirius had promised him rewards for good behaviour and he'd already had the awful arrangement with Pansy dismissed. He and Pansy had been friendly since they were children but he wasn't attracted to her and couldn't see himself marrying her. She was smarter than she was pretty; opinionated rather than biddable; fawning instead of truly affectionate…no, Pansy wasn't the wife he had in mind. He wanted someone who really liked him for himself not because he was Draco Malfoy and they wanted to use him as a step up the social ladder. Pansy would be a good practice girlfriend but something more? Well, he didn't have to worry about that anymore because the House of Black would let him choose his own wife.
The key was his relationship with Potter. His father had made himself indispensable to Black by being the liaison between the House of Black and the rest of the pureblood Houses. He could provide the same service to Potter.
The problem was building a relationship with someone he hated. He frowned heavily. Hate was a strong word but it worked. He had hated Potter since he'd refused Draco's hand on the Hogwarts Express because of a Weasley. Just the memory of it had the power to make his blood boil. He had never been so humiliated or rejected; he was a Malfoy – nobody refused him.
Except Potter.
Draco took a deep breath and forced himself to view his enmity with Potter logically, objectively, dispassionately.
There was the initial rejection; Potter had been defending his friend. Draco rolled his eyes. He could understand why even if he didn't see that Weasley was worth defending. If he and Weasley had swapped roles in the train, Draco would have been horrified if Potter had taken Weasley's hand. So…so maybe he understood why Potter had rejected him.
Then there had just been an endless stream of confrontations, although in hindsight Draco could acknowledge that he had provoked most of them, Weasley the rest, and Potter was mostly just there. He glared out into the gardens. Why had he confronted Potter so much?
He'd wanted to prove he was better than Potter. He'd wanted to get the other boy in trouble as revenge for not accepting him as a friend, for being a Gryffindor, for being the Golden Boy. He'd wanted Potter's attention.
Draco stared moodily out into the gardens.
Just before going to Hogwarts, his father had pulled him into his study…
"I am reliably informed that the Boy Who Lived will be on the train to Hogwarts." His father eyed him speculatively across the desk. "I trust that you will not fall into the adoring masses like so many of your school friends."
"Of course not, Father." Draco replied promptly. The thought of being a sycophantic fan horrified him.
"There is, however, some benefit in cultivating a relationship." His father mused, leaning back in his chair. "This boy will wield a lot of power in our society in years to come not only the Boy Who Lived nonsense but he is the last Potter. He has been away from the wizarding world for many years hidden away by Dumbledore. He will have need of guidance; you may wish to provide it."
"I understand." Draco said eagerly.
His father smiled coldly. "It is likely that he will be sorted to Gryffindor, Draco, but try not to let that alter your course." He paused, his expression turning contemplative. "He may also be warned against us due to my past association with the Dark Lord. If that is the case, I will not be disappointed should you fail to gain his regard."
And obviously Draco had failed spectacularly and on his own account. But he'd used the excuse his father had given him when he had written and told him Potter had refused his hand. He hadn't wanted to admit his failure; hadn't wanted to disappoint his father.
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