The last track of the CD ended. I sat straight up before I started to put away all my things as quick as I possibly could. I had been sitting there far too long. I had forgotten about the time and now I was late for dinner. I carefully closed the wardrobe before I rushed out of my room and down the stairs. Though midway down I stopped dead, and ran upwards again. I had to change clothes. Into my room again. Open the wardrobe and pull out a clean shirt, clean trousers and clean robes. I pulled off my old clothes and hurriedly put on the new ones. I pulled on my robes as I ran down the stairs the second time and then I stopped in front of the dining room doors. I took a couple of deep breathes and pulled my fingers through my hair before I carefully opened the door and entered. My stomach took a leap when I realized that my parents weren’t the only ones in the room. I swore to myself. I had forgotten that we expected guests for dinner, and now I had been both late, and had forgotten to dress up.
“Ah, but there he is, Lucius. No harm done, he must just have forgotten about the time.”
“Indeed he must have had.”
My father’s cold voice, made very clear what I could expect when the guests had left. I dared one glance at him and his cold eyes confirmed my worries.
“So Draco, tell me, what is it that makes you forget your obligation as a host?” The Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, smiled at me, and I made my very best to imitate my father’s manners, though I was still shaken by my father’s quiet promise and didn’t quite succeed.
“I was reading, sir.”
“Ah, an ambitious son you have Lucius. Excellent, excellent, so I suppose you’re doing well at Hogwarts?”
“Not as good as I would have hoped.”
My father answered before I got a chance. I felt the blood rush towards my face, and I lowered my head. I hated it when he humiliated me in front of other people. I was going to show him that he could be proud of me. I was going to make it into the Slytherin house-team and I was going to become one of the best students in my year. I would be at least as good as Granger if I had too.
“Ah, Lucius, surely, if he’s studying this much he must have good grades?”
“One would think so, but obviously it is not true in his case.”
I was happy to hear that the Minister changed the subject after that and I walked away and stood in a corner until it was time for dinner. During dinner my father and the Minister and the other men talked politics while my mother spoke with the women about dresses and similar things. It was disgustingly stereotypical. I ate under silence, since I was the only child at the table. I never understood these dinners. I had no chance of being involved in the conversations, yet I had to be there. And this was worse than other times, because all I could think of was what would happen to me when the dinner was over. As the dessert entered my stomach hurt because of the tension, and I could barely get it down. Unluckily the Minister noticed.
“Draco, are you feeling very well? You’re looking a bit pale.”
“Oh no minister, I’m fine. Just a bit tired, I was out playing Quidditch earlier.”
I felt my father’s eyes upon me, but I didn’t look his way.
“Ah, Qudditch. Of course. I suppose you will try for the house-team?”
“Yes I will, sir.”
“At what position do you wish to play?”
Once again my father was quicker than me.
“He’s trying for Seeker. All summer he’s been talking about how easy it seems, and how good he would be.”
I bit my tongue. Of course, I should have known this would happen. I had been so busy to show my pretended dislike for the golden trio, that I hadn’t thought about the consequences, and now I couldn’t be a chaser. Once again my father ruined it all for me. Or was it I who did?
“Ah, a Seeker. That is an important position. Then you’re competing with Mr Potter, aren’t you? I’ve heard he’s very talented.”
At that moment I could have given almost anything to make my father stay quiet.
“Well, Mr Potter is the one my son is so clearly unimpressed by.”
“Oh, really? Well then I’m looking forward to hear about your battles.”
The Minister gave me a meant-to-be-encouraging-smile, though my heart was like a stone in my stomach. I knew I couldn’t defeat Potter as a Seeker. Because he was talented. He was the best Seeker I’ve ever seen, and yet we were so young. And the thought of being a Seeker didn’t thrill me at all. I wanted to be in the middle of the game, not soaring high above, watching and waiting.
After four further minutes my mother was kind enough to tell me to go to bed.
“It’s obvious you’re not feeling well, dear.”
There was an agreeing murmur and I left the table, with polite excuses.
“Ah, but there he is, Lucius. No harm done, he must just have forgotten about the time.”
“Indeed he must have had.”
My father’s cold voice, made very clear what I could expect when the guests had left. I dared one glance at him and his cold eyes confirmed my worries.
“So Draco, tell me, what is it that makes you forget your obligation as a host?” The Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, smiled at me, and I made my very best to imitate my father’s manners, though I was still shaken by my father’s quiet promise and didn’t quite succeed.
“I was reading, sir.”
“Ah, an ambitious son you have Lucius. Excellent, excellent, so I suppose you’re doing well at Hogwarts?”
“Not as good as I would have hoped.”
My father answered before I got a chance. I felt the blood rush towards my face, and I lowered my head. I hated it when he humiliated me in front of other people. I was going to show him that he could be proud of me. I was going to make it into the Slytherin house-team and I was going to become one of the best students in my year. I would be at least as good as Granger if I had too.
“Ah, Lucius, surely, if he’s studying this much he must have good grades?”
“One would think so, but obviously it is not true in his case.”
I was happy to hear that the Minister changed the subject after that and I walked away and stood in a corner until it was time for dinner. During dinner my father and the Minister and the other men talked politics while my mother spoke with the women about dresses and similar things. It was disgustingly stereotypical. I ate under silence, since I was the only child at the table. I never understood these dinners. I had no chance of being involved in the conversations, yet I had to be there. And this was worse than other times, because all I could think of was what would happen to me when the dinner was over. As the dessert entered my stomach hurt because of the tension, and I could barely get it down. Unluckily the Minister noticed.
“Draco, are you feeling very well? You’re looking a bit pale.”
“Oh no minister, I’m fine. Just a bit tired, I was out playing Quidditch earlier.”
I felt my father’s eyes upon me, but I didn’t look his way.
“Ah, Qudditch. Of course. I suppose you will try for the house-team?”
“Yes I will, sir.”
“At what position do you wish to play?”
Once again my father was quicker than me.
“He’s trying for Seeker. All summer he’s been talking about how easy it seems, and how good he would be.”
I bit my tongue. Of course, I should have known this would happen. I had been so busy to show my pretended dislike for the golden trio, that I hadn’t thought about the consequences, and now I couldn’t be a chaser. Once again my father ruined it all for me. Or was it I who did?
“Ah, a Seeker. That is an important position. Then you’re competing with Mr Potter, aren’t you? I’ve heard he’s very talented.”
At that moment I could have given almost anything to make my father stay quiet.
“Well, Mr Potter is the one my son is so clearly unimpressed by.”
“Oh, really? Well then I’m looking forward to hear about your battles.”
The Minister gave me a meant-to-be-encouraging-smile, though my heart was like a stone in my stomach. I knew I couldn’t defeat Potter as a Seeker. Because he was talented. He was the best Seeker I’ve ever seen, and yet we were so young. And the thought of being a Seeker didn’t thrill me at all. I wanted to be in the middle of the game, not soaring high above, watching and waiting.
After four further minutes my mother was kind enough to tell me to go to bed.
“It’s obvious you’re not feeling well, dear.”
There was an agreeing murmur and I left the table, with polite excuses.
