"They changed the marriage laws, don't you know."

"Yes, Narcissa, I have been in informed."

The children didn't look up from where they sat neatly on the floor as the dark-haired woman with the unusually masculine face patronised the elegant Lady Malfoy. Each child was eight years old and had been trained by experts to behave perfectly, and neither of them would move until Pansy's mother stood up to leave. And this was fine by Draco; for as far as he could tell, Pansy Parkinson was a vile brat who didn't deserve the respect granted by the Malfoys. That he wasn't technically supposed to talk to her was just another reason he was so proud of the Malfoy name. It saved him from awful things, like not being the first to read a new book or to own a new toy. He turned a page in the book he was pretending to read, trying not to look as though he was eavesdropping on his mother's words.

"I suppose this means the Parkinson and Malfoy lines will never cross."

"Such a shame," Narcissa murmured. Even Pansy, silly, ignorant Pansy, rise her eyebrows when she heard the obvious mockery in the woman's tone. "But of course. We could never defy the Ministry."

"I seem to remember you doing exactly that in the past." Mrs Parkinson's tone was sickly sweet, and Draco felt his loose tooth throb as he grimaced at his book. "Or have you forgotten Lucius' crimes?"

"My husband was cleared, Prudence. Yours was not, however unfortunate that may be for your charming daughters."

The Parkinsons' didn't remain at the Manor for long after that. Draco and Narcissa watched them go from the doorway, both silent for a long while before the mother placed her hand on her beloved sons' shoulder. "Draco," she began.

"Yes, mother?" The boy's voice was still practically a squeak, though this was because he didn't try to sound more mature. He never did, not when only Narcissa was around to hear him.

"Tomorrow there is an important meeting. There will be a collection of muggle-born and half-blood girls there for you to meet. One of these girls will be your wife in the future."

"I thought that was Pansy." He hadn't yet learned to keep the disgust from his voice when he spoke of the girl he was supposed to wed. Narcissa fixed him with a disapproving stare. "Besides, father says that muggle-borns are filthy."

"Don't be rude, Draco!" She paused for a moment, taking a deep breath in an attempt to steady herself before kneeling, her dark eyes now level with his pale ones. "I'm sure they'll be charming."

"But mother, what if I don't like the one you choose?"

"I'm not going to be choosing, Draco."

He stamped his foot, crying out in an attempt to voice his own disappointment. "Father, then? He'll choose someone evil, I know he will!"

"Don't speak of your father like that!" The sharp tone startled the child, who flinched in response to the order. Narcissa instantly felt terrible, and she reached for him, caressing his face between her hands. "My little dragon. Your father isn't to choose your partner. You are to select the young lady yourself."

Surprised by the responsibility, he stared at her for almost a full minute before loosening the tight fists he'd curled his hands into. "What if someone picks the same one as me?" He was picturing greedy Gregory Goyle and selfish Theodore Nott, boys that always wanted what he had. "They're bigger than me. They'll take her instead."

"No, Draco, no they won't. Only you get to choose. Only you will be there to see the mu-young ladies. I expect the other boys don't yet know what they're in for."

"What does that mean?"

She looked at him, surprised, as she often was, by his curious nature and desire to understand everything. She dreaded the day a proper upbringing would force that out of him, make him into the perfect little pureblood heir. "It doesn't matter what it means, not today, and not tomorrow. Draco, my little dragon, you will look at the girls and you will choose one. I expect they won't behave as well as Pansy," something Draco privately thought was a rather brilliant thing, actually, because Pansy was rather boring, "and they won't have nearly the level of education you've had," which meant they might be thick and he might look better for being a know-it-all, "and of course they won't have the same pedigree as our family, the Malfoys and Blacks and all the purebloods."

"Won't that make father mad?"

"Your father," Narcissa said slowly, "must learn that he cannot always have his way. Now go upstairs, Draco, dinner must nearly be ready. Dobby!"

Off Draco went, leaving the beautiful woman to the house elf, skipping over the trick step half-way up the staircase. His head was full of toys and books and girls who weren't quite as good as him, but had to be more interesting than Pansy Parkinson, with her squashed nose and coal black eyes. They just had to be.

✦

They weren't interesting at all, Draco learned at noon the next day. They ate like pigs at a trough, their voices were crudely accented, and none of them held themselves with any sort of self-respect. He couldn't pin the cause of his instinctive rejection at the time, but he held himself separate from them nonetheless.

As the only boy, Draco was the elephant in the room. Struck by sudden shyness, he wanted to keep close to Narcissa, who was trying to make small talk with some of the parents of the children. The woman was avoiding a select group, though, refusing to move any closer. He thought they must be extremely far beneath her, for the usually sociable lady to ignore them so completely. And yet, he kept peering at them curiously.

"Look, Draco, the Bulstrode girl is here."

"Father says that Mister Bulstrode is a disappointment," he recited. The girl's mother had dressed her plump daughter in a lavender dress that made her look larger than she was, and made her face appear washed out and ugly. Narcissa silently approved of Draco's decision, despite how poorly worded it had been- the poor girl's mother, after all, was almost as much of an eyesore as Prudence Parkinson, and an unremarkable muggle-born as well. There was no benefit to the Malfoy family there, not even anything to brag over.

"This is Tracey Davis, isn't she lovely?"

He shot one look at the blonde girl, her short hair in her freckled face and her nervous expression obvious enough for all the room to see. He shook his head. "No way." Tracey looked like she might cry, though no one could tell if that was from relief or from misery.

"Susan Bones?" Narcissa prodded hopefully. "Cassandra Runcorn?"

"Cassie!" the bespectacled girl corrected quickly. She was pretty enough, but she seemed rather dull, at least to Draco. And her tone was the same arrogant one Pansy always fell into out of habit. Beside her, a girl with a long red plait looked like a Weasley, but must have been the Bones girl. At any rate, she flinched and shook her head at Draco, as if pleading him not to encourage her companion.

Surprised by her confidence but still not interested, he found his attention wandering back to the group at the other side of the room. It was quite small, a dozeb people in all. A small blond clutched her mother's hand, fiddling with the hem of her spotted shirt while she chattered away to some other girl. The parents all looked terrified, though, and completely lost.

"Hermione," called an exasperated voice. Draco almost laughed; it was the same tone Narcissa used when he wasn't paying attention to her. "Darling, you should have something to eat."

"I'm almost finished my chapter, mum," called the girl that must've been her daughter, her voice muffled. He knew that didn't make sense unless she had something in her mouth- but the woman had called for her to eat, so she couldn't have. Stepping away from Narcissa for the first time, he looked more closely at the group. That was when he realised that they weren't as close as he had thought.

Oh, they were mostly a tight-knit group, brought closer by unfamiliarity. The parents were in the main cluster, most of the girls with them. But there was an outsider he hadn't noticed before, a girl with a mess of brown hair sitting away from the edge of the group. He couldn't see her clearly behind the book in her hands, which had to be about the size of her head. A minute later, she turned the page, slipped something into the pages and gently closed it, revealing a wistful smile as she lowered the tome, the words 'Jane Eyre' written in gold across the cover.

"Hermione!"

"I'm coming, mum," she chirped, jumping to her feet. The girl wasn't dressed like the others in dresses and pretty skirts-no, she wore a dark jumper over a shirt with a yellow collar, and a tartan skirt with black school shoes.

With a jolt he realised what was different: she wasn't trying to play pretend at being someone she wasn't, and she wasn't trying to hide from sight. The other girls in the corner were muggles and their children, then, weren't they? And this 'Hermione' wasn't trying to pretend that she was anything better dressed or more important than she usually was. Unlike everyone else in the room, she actually seemed comfortable in her own skin. Grinning to himself, Draco moved back to Narcissa's side, patting her arm to get her attention. She turned to him, relieved by any excuse to end the inane chatter with the muggle-born dull-as-a-rock Magda Bulstrode. "What is it, Draco? Have you made up your mind?"

He nodded eagerly, pointing towards the muggles and their children. Narcissa felt her stomach drop, and she wondered if she might lose her lunch over this. She hadn't expected that he'd look at the other group, nor that he'd actually be interested in any of them. Hesitantly, she followed the direction he was pointing. Bushy brown hair was all she saw, a girl in a plain dark uniform. She looked dull and unpretentious, no hint of anything attractive in her future. And she wasn't even interacting with anyone else! Oh, Merlin. Draco, don't say it.

"I want that one."