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Enveloppé dans un joli nœud

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Little Draco was not the most social of people, not by a long shot. Rich, spoilt, loved and protected by his parents. What was the use of friends when you had all that. So his parents throwing a Summer Solstice ball wasn’t exactly “entertaining” for this 8-year-old. All these important French people were all talking and laughing and Draco was definitely not having any “fun”.

 

So, of course, he escaped from the cooing adults and the bratty kids.

 

He found comfort on his own, just him and his books. What else was there in life? He knew if his family were to know he was alone again, they’d give out to him. They always wanted Draco to make ‘friends’ but Draco didn’t see the point.

 

Nope. Draco would never, ever have a friend.

 

Ever.

 

So he stayed under his favourite tree and read his book, ‘Annabethe Evergarden and the Ancient Village’.It was reaching its climax; Annabeth was just about to stop the Evil Sir Snobworth from stealing the Villager’s gold. All she had to do was say  ‘Stupefy’ and it’ll all be done, but Draco’s question was would she do it or would she let the fact that Snobworth knew her late father affect her decision.

 

‘So Annabeth, is this really the path you want to take?’ Snobworth said, still cocky even with his hands up in the air in surrender.

 

Annabeth’s grip tightened on her wand as she stared down the man in front of her, ‘You already know my answer.’ Annabeth had the spell on the tip of her tong-

 

“STUPEFY!”

 

Draco jumped in fright at the yell. It was only then that Draco noticed a person was standing behind him. He turned his head so quickly to the invader that he almost gave himself whiplash. He was met with the grinning face of a girl with short chestnut hair and bronze skin. Her oddly golden eyes twinkled with amusement as she studied Draco’s face.

 

“Hi,” was all this snooper could say.

 

Draco arched a pale eyebrow, “Do you mind?” He asked this rhetorically, of course.

 

She did not get the message, “Not at all,” she replied before dumping herself quite unceremoniously onto the ground near Draco.

 

Draco was flabbergasted. Most times it just took only those cold words to leave his mouth to make other kids leave him alone. But not only was this random girl not doing that, she was smiling at him and was clearly talking but Draco was not registering a single word she said.

 

“-onestly, I like Annabeth’s healer, Alex, she’s much cooler and deserves waayy more than she gets and is so much more than Annabeth’s love-interest. What do you think?”

 

Draco was still speechless but he quickly snapped out of it when he realized he was asked a question, “umm, yeah—” Malfoys never say ‘umm’, only when they’re truly shocked and this was Draco's first time experience with the word, “—she’s so cool. I want to be a healer when I’m older because of her.”

 

“Really?” The girl actually sounded genuinely impressed.

 

This encouraged Draco to nod proudly with such speed, it ruffled his perfectly combed hair.

 

“Well, I want to be a quidditch player,” she boasted with such surety that Draco himself was impressed.

 

“Really?” He asked, mimicking her own words and manner. And she matched up, nodding similar in enthusiasm to Draco.

 

They talked for what seemed like hours, and Draco actually enjoyed her talking. It took 2 hours for one of them to realize that they should ask each other for their names.

 

“Chantelle Devere.” She stuck out her hand which Draco happily accepted.

 

“Draco Malfoy.”

 

Draco didn’t think Chantelle’s grin could get ANY bigger, “Draco, I think we’re gonna get along fine.”

 

Draco found himself agreeing.




“So you're telling me that you have no recollection of a book that practically forged our friendship.”

 

Draco looks up from his study table to his best friend of 8 years in utter disbelief, who is slackly lied down on his bed with a Quidditch mag in her hands. She flips a page  lazily before flatly replying with a simple, “Nope.”

 

“It’s Annabeth fucking Evergarden you illiterate fuck.” Draco’s words sound harsh but they literally bounce off Chantelle. They are so used to each other's equally snarky company to think these insults were spoken with malice.

 

“It was 8 years ago you nostalgic weirdo,” She shoots back without even getting up, “you know damn well I’ve never read another book since then.”

 

Draco can’t argue with that point and gets up to lie down next to where Chantelle draped herself. “Still, it’s sentimental and stuff,”  Draco murmurs into a silver pillow he cradled in his arms.

 

Sighing, Chantelle folds a page in her magazine before turning to face her best friend.  She can see the disappointment in his grey eyes and concedes, “If I say I’m fucking with you, how will you react?”

 

A pillow in the face is the only answer Chantelle receives.

 

Before she can abuse the boy back, a house-elf pops in, interrupting the two from staging a war. The house-elf—whose name was Toffy—looks in horror, at the scene of his Master Draco in mid-block from the rolled up magazine that Chantelle was about to hit him with.

 

“Hi,” they both say awkwardly to the shocked creature.

 

“Master Lucius be calling both of you,” it squeals before popping away.

 

Noticing that Chantelle is still paused mid-attack, Draco kicks her in the gut causing her to crumble up in pain before slipping out the room and away from the most likely pissed off girl.





Lucius hears the approaching footsteps getting closer to his office, and rubs his temple in preparation for the chaos he knows will be crashing into his office.

 

Just in time, the oak doors shoot open as two figures come running through. One of those figures, being his beloved son, Draco Malfoy, immediately goes behind his chair to hide. Probably from his best friend, Chantelle Devere, who has her wand drawn with a pissed expression.

 

“Daddy! Help!” Draco squeals. Lucius didn’t even try to hide his rolling eyes. His son hasn’t called him ‘Daddy’ in 8 years, except for the occasional Christmas’ and Birthdays.

 

“Chantelle put the wand down,” Lucius orders calmly but the brunette looked royally pissed off. Lucius wonders what his little Draco did to get the normally calm girl this pissed. “You're a minor and one spell from that and it’s expulsion. And with your record, even I couldn’t save you.”

 

Chantelle holds a challenging glare—clearly about to argue about being told what to do—and with his son’s constant squealing and whines for him to save him... Lucius can feel a migraine growing.

 

It took Lucius 15 minutes to settle the situation. Sure the results lost him a perfectly good vase and gave him two sulking teenagers, but Lucius had seen worse.

 

“You wanted us?” Draco asks coldly, clearly hurt by his dad giving out to him. Even though technically he started it.

 

“Oh yes,” Lucius remembers, stalking towards his desk producing a light blue envelope that was clearly from Draco and Chantelle’s infamous school, Beauxbaton. Draco looks smugly at his best friend whose eyes were as big as dinner plates—blue envelopes are never a good sign for troublemakers— e.g: Chantelle — in Beauxbaton.

 

“It’s for the both of you,” Lucius states and it is now Draco’s turn to be shocked.

 

Chantelle takes on Draco’s smug expression. If she is going down, she will definitely take him with her.

 

“Daddy whatever it was, I didn’t mean it, I was probably trying to stop Chantel-”

 

“Stop me! You probably planned it in the first place. Also, no one can stop me!”

 

“You're not helping either of our cases!”

 

Lucius pinches the bridge of his nose, having enough of the two’s arguments. “Quiet!” He bellows, which Draco and Chantelle follow immediately, not used to him raising his voice.

 

“Good,” he compliments as he watches the two teenagers actually settle down for once since this Saturday started. “Now, this letter is an invitation —” He pauses to study the surprised expression on the teens' faces, assuming they’d say something but they didn’t, so he continues, “—an invitation specially sent for you two, to accompany the rest of a selected 50 from your year to Hogwarts to participate or support Beauxbaton in the newly reinstated Triwizard competition.”

 

For a second there is just silence in the office. Lucius guessed they were simply processing the information. He’s having difficulty dealing with this new information too.

 

He had not noticed the ‘Hogwarts’ part when he’d simply skimmed the letter. Who knew that one word would take him back to long-forgotten memories.

 

Only just 15 years ago, he had run from England.

 

After generations of Malfoys serving the Dark side, Lucius broke this simple custom. All it took was him holding his only son and he immediately gave up the Dark Lord. On with an assurance that he, his wife and son would safely flee Britain and go somewhere far from the Dark vs Light war. Far fro-

 

“Father? Are you listening?” Lucius is pulled out of his dark memories by his son. Looking down at his boy, he can’t help but smile. All of that work was for the beautiful boy sitting in front of him.

 

His son is his pride and joy.

 

A splitting image of prized Malfoy beauty, he bloomed from his adorable little boy to his beautiful, older (still his little) boy.

 

He can't possibly lie and say his son’s natural beauty was all because of the pureblood in his veins. Malfoys were rooted from a long line of Veela heritages’ that give them their infamous blond beauty. His glowing blond hair had started to grow longer due to his Veela inheritance only 3 years ago—almost reaching past his mid-back.

 

Lucius notices that his eyes oddly never changed—still large and doll-like. Pools of silver, which is sadly a Black gene—beautiful on his wife, but he still wishes they were his icy blue, besides, Lucius can see the specks of blue popping up here and there.

 

But his son is not just a pretty face; in between those stunning eyes lies a brain that is a prodigy in the making. Physically Draco is not strong—not with that delicate body—but with his powerful magical ability accompanied by his brilliant mind, he was a powerful enemy.

 

“Uncle? You alright?” turning to the only other person in the room, Lucius smiles proudly at her too.

 

Chantelle Devere. Lucius never thought he could love a child that was not his but Chantelle proved him wrong. Chantelle has changed a lot since Lucius first met her, growing from that awkward, lanky little girl that stiffly stood behind Draco as the boy tried to convince him to let her sleepover. Let’s just say that “one” sleepover turned into the girl practically moving in—but Lucius wouldn’t lie and say he hated the girls quite permanent home in their family.

 

She used to be all bone and no meat but she’d finally grown and developed well with pure muscle like the quidditch players she so admired. Lucius knows from experience that this girl could bench press him if she so chooses too, which she hasn’t….yet. Lucius will never admit it, but he can’t help but be a bit scared of the girl. In his defence, her staggering height—she towers over many males that would typically boast at their height—and her incredible strength; she is a ferocious enemy.

 

Even with the raw strength that oozes off her, she is still attractive—in a butch sort of way—her hair is long but always in a ponytail and she has an athletes’ muscled body while also having the endurance of a brick wall.

 

Both of them together make an amazing pair. Strength and brilliance is always an amazing tag team.

 

Lucius wasn’t sure why he is recalling all this information now. But, he knew it was somehow rooted to his long forgotten and well-hidden fear. Lucius would not admit it, but he is wary of sending these two, who he considered his ‘children’—ironic because only one of them is his actual legitimate child— to a place he fled so long ago because of the dangers that harboured in that little community.  Would they be able to handle the shadows’ Lucius left there or would the-

 

“Hellooo!?” “Father!” “Uncle Lucius!”

 

Lucius snaps out of his anxious thoughts due to the two teenagers who are now standing up and waving their hands frantically in front of him.

 

“Were you saying something?” Lucius wondered, quite dopey-like, which is unorthodox considering his character.

 

Sighing, Draco restates, “I said, can we deny going?”

 

“Why would you deny?” Lucius questions, shocked but relieved.

 

“Father have you listened to a thing I’ve said all summer?? What about our N.E.W.T.S, our’s is in 6th year, I was planning to spend my free 7th year volunteering at St.Mungo's. Father, what shall I do? I need the experience, I must become the youngest licensed healer so I must be licensed by 24, this is my life goal so...”

 

“Er-”  Before Lucius can answer any of those questions, it turned to Chantelle’s turn to rant.

 

“My quidditch training, Uncle, I’m being scouted by the   Ballycastle bats, the Holyhead Harpies and the Montrose Magpies! These are TOP quidditch team, I can’t give this up because of some dumb Triwizard competition, this is ridiculous. I-wait a second…” Chantelle pauses as if in thought before turning to Draco and whispering, “Draco, what's a tri wizarding competition?”

 

Draco pauses at that question before shrugging and turning to his Father for guidance—who had been trying to slink away from the onslaught of questions and rants being directed at him.

 

He pauses when he realizes they are now focused on him. Coughing awkwardly, he straightens up, “Well children, the Triwizard competition was an old wizarding tradition that goes back to the 13th-century, it's a competition for those of mighty courage and incredible magical abilities—” honestly Lucius was exaggerating a bit, he is 50% sure of what he is saying but it's keeping both Draco and Chantelle quiet so he continues, “—and err, brilliant wit. The selected champions go on and compete in dangerous challenges to win extraordinary prizes and Eternal Glory !”

 

Lucius looks back down on the two faces of each teenager and saw two completely different expressions.

 

On overzealous Chantelle, is an expression of shock and excitement. It didn't take a psychic to know whether or not she’d participate.

 

On cold Draco, is, in fact, the exact opposite. He has a single pale eyebrow raised in disbelief while keeping a stoic expression which meant he is not impressed by the tournaments description.

 

They open their mouths at the same time to say, “That sounds…”

 

Lucius feels sweat form at what their decision is going to be. He himself, unsure of his stand on the trip.

 

“....AWESOME!!”

 

Lucius is shocked at that reply. He knew Chantelle would love this idea but Draco’s compliance was unexpected.

 

“Pardon me?” is the only thing he could ask, directing this question to Draco.

 

Draco chuckles at his dad’s confused expression, “Think of it Father, a competition that was cancelled due to it’s dangerousness...its healer experience goldmine!” Draco pauses as in thinking of something before beginning to murmur to nobody, “I wonder if the headmistress would let me be a trainee for the competition? She trusts me, right? I’ll write to her and tell her that…..”

 

Lucius turns from the distracted boy and looks toward his son’s best friend who has her usual huge grin with a dreamy expression.

 

Lucius would bet his entire fortune that the girl is imagining participating in that competition, “You just want to be a champion don’t you?” He asks even though he knew the reply.

 

She nods frantically, so distracted by her own fantasy that she could only say, “I want eternal glory.”

 

“Of course you do,” Lucius turns from both distracted teenagers to try to collect his thoughts. He can’t possibly refuse now that both of them are so interested in attending. He had no choice, “I guess I should sign the  permission slip, huh?”

 

The two nod like bobble-heads.

 

Picking up a quill and after dipping it in ink, he brings it towards the consent form. The tip is almost touching the paper but Lucius’ hands shaking so much, it causes him to be unable to finish his action.

 

His mind flares with memories of the burning of the dark mark into his skin, the pain of the crucio curse from the end of that evil mans—no, monster’s wand. No,  England is no good for Malfoys, nothing good ever happens in England, not for him and definitely not for his childre-

 

Lucius is once again pulled from his thoughts, two different hands being placed on his own. One pale and slender, and the other bronze and rough. Lucius does not even have to look up to see who’s appendage was whose.

 

“Father, if you don’t want to send us you don’t have too,” Draco says softly.

 

“Yeah, it’s up to you. Honestly, it’s a win-win either way.” Chantelle adds with a jest in her voice.

 

Lucius knows that they are only trying to cheer him up and they truly want to go. He can’t let them sacrifice their newly found excitement for his petty fears from the past.

 

They seem like they are going to speak again but Lucius cuts them off by signing the paper with his exaggeratedly fancy signature before stuffing it back into the envelope to be sent back.

 

Looking up, he sees that both teenagers have a surprised face. Lucius is shocked when he is embraced by the two in a bone-crushing hug; in public, Lucius would never let this happen, but this isn’t public and what was 5 more seconds.

 

Well, until he started to see black spots and is tapping on both arms in surrender.

 

The two release him, and they give him one more bright smile before bouncing on their way—probably to pack.

 

Lucius massages his neck and shoulders in recovery from the hug and wondering— hoping —he made the right decision.

 

Because for now, that’s all he can do.