Capítulo 31: 3/6
He had asked Gaara if there was anybody he would like to invite, purely as a courtesy seeing as Gaara was as far from sociable as Draco suspected it was possible of being, shy of becoming a full blown Dark Lord, but Gaara had taken the question seriously and thought about it. A day later, Gaara had supplied Draco with Luna Lovegood and Draco couldn't see any reason, offhand, to deny Gaara. An airhead Ravenclaw certainly wasn't going to get him in any more trouble than Tracey Davis. That was for sure.
Meanwhile, Lucius was quietly glad that his son was becoming so ambitious and cunning. It was an interesting gambit, one that Lucius wasn't entirely convinced would be as effective as Draco had said, but he could allow Draco a few liberties here and there, as a teaching aid.
However, as essential as ambition was to prosperity, it could often hinder a family's wealth and status if one of their sons became overly ambitious, overstretched and exposed weakness. One such weakness was Gaara, which Lucius had told Draco only a few days before.
He didn't know all that much about Gaara, even after the boy had come to stay in his home, but no matter who (or what) his son had grown attached to, he was duty bound to offer these sage words of advice, as he had been given by his own father: 'don't put all of your eggs in one basket.'
If Lucius could gain the Dark Lord's utmost confidence and then survive Voldemort's downfall, Draco could climb and feed his hungry ambition and then cast aside Gaara if he ever came to undermine their family's beliefs or success.
...maybe these moderates wouldn't even come...
...then again, like hell was the prestigious Malfoy Christmas party going to be turned down by such lowly people!
OXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO
The boys were relaxing in Draco's room, as the Malfoy heir tried in vain to catch his breath and warm back up after he had been unceremoniously dragged out into the grounds that morning by Gaara for 'training' again. Gaara had even known to avoid Lucius and Narcissa's attention as he literally dragged their son kicking and screaming into the winter cold for rigorous and unwanted exercise.
On the bright side, if there even was one, Draco had managed to substitute a few circuits of the manor with a little illegal, under-aged spell practice that he successfully convinced Gaara he needed more than Draco needed the physical training. The very real risk of accidental spell damage was more than worth it, to watch the superior red head struggling with spells that even Longbottom had mastered at the beginning of the year.
That being said, his good cheer wouldn't go very fair to thawing out his poor toes which he was convinced were frostbitten despite all the evidence to the contrary.
Evidence such as no signs of frostbite.
To further lift his mood, Draco indulged in the greatest British pastime (other than tea-drinking and commenting on the weather): complaining.
"And I told mother that I needed the Firebolt for school, but she wouldn't listen. Would you believe it; she said that the old Nimbus 2001's were 'fine' for Quidditch? Can you imagine? She would rather buy me an old model."
Gaara was vaguely aware that Draco was talking about kinds of brooms.
"And when I went to father after that, I tried explaining how important it was, but it was like he didn't care. He acted like I just wanted it for fun, but you know that I need it to win. It's for Slytherin, really."
Gaara was reading a vaguely interesting book that described something called 'Homing Magycs' that he figured could help him find a way home, though he knew this one was a tenuous link. Still, it wasn't going to be anything obvious so he would have to try with these lesser known spells.
"And mother had the gall to suggest pulling me out of Quidditch altogether, as if I'm so delicate that a single dementor attack could stop me."
Gaara thought it was funny how dramatically Draco's attitude to danger had changed. The spoilt blond was still a long way off from being a headstrong Gryffindor, but he was no longer slithering along on his belly so shamefully.
"Oh, mother said she wanted to speak to you later today. Something to do with the party tomorrow, I think. It's probably just a last minute alteration to your dress robes or something." Draco had been speaking for minutes uninterrupted but he only now remembered to inform Gaara something he had likely been told hours earlier at breakfast. Typical.
The episode of Gaara being fitted for his dress robes was one he would rather forget and one that would best left unsaid. Gaara was a scary person, and Narcissa was scary enough to force him.
A littler later, Gaara put down his book and wandered down to the drawing room where Narcissa had asked him to meet her, alone. He might have been wary of such a clandestine meeting if it had involved Lucius, but Draco had mentioned the man was in his study currently. Narcissa had been nothing but kind to him, except during the fitting, so he didn't walk to the drawing room with any real sort of trepidation.
He knocked lightly and walked in to see Narcissa standing before a small dining table with an elaborate table setting, along with a variety of useless utensils and superfluous plates that Gaara felt were woefully inefficient compared to his beloved chopsticks and small bowl.
He looked at the curious set up and wondered whether Draco's mother was eating on her own tonight, in the wrong room...
"Good evening Gaara. I hope you're well." She looked him over as if she did actually care, which was strange because her taut face appeared anything but concerned. Gaara wasn't adept at reading emotions, so he tended to doubt his interpretations in these situations.
"Now, I know you come from a prominent family in your homeland, but you do not know the proper etiquette of Britain," She wasn't brokering an argument, she was making a statement of fact. "So I have decided to run you through the basics you should have learned years ago. Draco received elocution lessons when he was six, so there's no reason you shouldn't be able to learn enough to get by tomorrow night."
Gaara exhaled, which would have sounded like a loud groan if he had a functioning voice box, at the prospect of being taught table manners. Yashamaru had taught him what little he knew of manners, and that had more involved how to hold chopsticks, and that it wasn't alright to try and kill a cook because they hadn't made a dish right.
Gaara figured the latter would still apply here.
"Firstly I suppose we can forgo correcting your posture since you hold yourself very well, considering your lack of training. Just don't slouch at all. Now, when you sit at the table, you must first wait for any nearby ladies to be sat first. When you sit, immediately pull out your napkin and lay it across your lap. Now, show me how you sit at the table and we'll see what we can do."
Thus began the longest two hours in Gaara's life since he had fallen off of the hippogriff and had to limp through the Forbidden Forrest with broken bones and bruises all over his body. And at least then he hadn't been so bored.
Draco's mother fussed over every fastidious detail of what he thought was a fairly simple affair. He was glad to see that some manners spanned dimensions, like the rule that said one shouldn't eat with their mouth open. The array of knives and forks, however, was entirely alien to him. The range of cutlery would have surely put most of his village's weapon stores to shame and he couldn't help but lament the brain capacity now occupied by knowledge of the correct forks to use for fish, cheese, meat and the half dozen other uses he couldn't have imagined previously.
Narcissa never lost patience when she could tell (somehow) that Gaara's mind had begun to wander or his less than abundant enthusiasm had begun to flag. It was odd being around a woman who was, by all accounts, cold and distant and yet getting the distinct impression that she not only cared, but that she was actually a warm, kind person.
It was just something about her, something he couldn't consciously discern. And after all those pictures Temari had showed him to explain what different faces meant...
Wasted.
Gaara regularly ran for miles, could jump over tall walls, could kill dozens and read for hours on end without the slightest fatigue, but at the end of those lesson he was so utterly glad Narcissa wasn't going to insist on dancing lessons. After all, there was only so much that could be achieved in one evening.
Narcissa was happy with how receptive Gaara had been to the whole lesson, as she had been prepared to deal with an obstinate child like her darling Draco had been when he was little. He had learned enough that tomorrow night he would at least appear civilised, if perhaps a little rough around the edges.
She liked Gaara, and she liked what he had done for her beloved son. He was sweet, too, and more sensitive than he wanted to let on. She had grown up as a Black, and could see through even the most stoic sociopaths, and Gaara was no different.
Like everyone else, she knew precious little about Gaara, even after multiple dinner conversations where Lucius and she interrogated him for details, but what she did know was troubling. And nothing more than the infamous tale of the boggart that Draco had confided in her because it had upset him so. Gaara's greatest fear had apparently been his own mother, and he had then proceeded to kill the boggart, brutally if Draco's tall tales were to be believed. She hadn't managed to wheedle out what Draco's had been.
She saw something in Gaara that it seemed Severus, Lucius, Dumbledore and even Draco couldn't see: a vulnerable child. Or maybe she was becoming soft in her later years...
She'd have to go and visit Bella to see if she was losing her edge. Her incarcerated sister had never been one to shy away from telling it like she saw it, especially when it came to family.
Gaara excused himself with a bow and she found herself gifting him with a short smile before he swept out of the room, probably in fear of more lessons, and Narcissa decided to fix herself a stiff drink before she went down to meet Lucius. He had been resolving an issue with the caterers all day and was bound to be in a foul mood. She had her work cut out for her this evening, to alleviate her husband's bad mood in time for dinner.
OXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO
"You look fine; like a gentleman, even. If you'd like, I have a potion that could smooth your hair down a bit." Draco said as he finished fussing over Gaara's new dress robes, making sure they were all draping and flat in the right places. The shinobi had to swat his friend's hands away in the end because Draco's nervous, obsessive badgering was bugging him.
Gaara refused the hair concoction and stepped down from the dressing podium. It was about time for them to join the Malfoy elders downstairs and start receiving the guests. The adults had explained earlier that Gaara and Draco would only be expected to greet the first few parties to arrive before they could adjourn to the ballroom and socialise.
Gaara had been told, by each member of the household separately at one point or another, that he wasn't allowed to sneak off during the middle of the party to read or hide. Draco had finished this admonishment with the foreboding statement that he would not be letting Gaara out of his sight all evening.
Both of the finely dressed young men descended to the entrance hall, where they found the equally well adorned Malfoy parents waiting by the floo without so much as a word passing between them. They didn't spare a comment for the boys when they joined them at the fireplace, though Narcissa did take the quiet moment as an opportunity to henpeck Draco one last time, which he looked mortified by.
Gaara got his own turn, though, as Narcissa tried in vain to flatten down his hair a little. Still, he was better off than Draco, but he still wished he had been allowed to carry more than a handful of sand this evening, as his ultimate defence was definitely called for here.
The green fire flared, signalling the first arrival and an abrupt end to Narcissa's attempts to flatten Gaara's unruly crimson hair. The Crabbe family were the first to arrive, unfashionably early, and unfashionably dressed as it happened.
Crabbe senior, a stocky and dull looking man had a greasy smile spread on his face as he materialised amongst the flames, obviously having had to muster the expression before he even entered the floo network. His wife was similarly large, but more muscular than fat, and sporting the same insincere smile on her painted lips. And following close behind was Crabbe junior, who tried his hardest to maintain his sickeningly unconvincing smile even when he spotted Gaara (who was now even scarier as he was amongst the dreaded Malfoys and dressed like a pureblood).
The entire Crabbe clan took turns to give Gaara suspicious, fearful and condemning looks; giving him the impression that Crabbe had told his family about their unfortunate encounter on the first night in castle.
Any proliferation of that story would have been very damaging a few months ago, but he figured now it would either be considered as another myth surrounding him or it would be taken seriously, and it wasn't like Draco would care anymore, and the opinions of the others in the castle weren't at all important.
Lucius and Narcissa did their duty as hosts and greeted their guests, but Lucius let it be known in his usual subtle manner that he didn't think much of them and that arriving early was anything but endearing.
Vincent Crabbe senior pulled a tiny, brightly wrapped package out of his robes and magically re-enlarged it and handed it to the host, with a "Merry Christmas," that was sedately returned, though without a reciprocal gift. Narcissa had been shopping for months and they would be sending out their gifts on Christmas day as they always had. They even hired a small fleet of owls to do the delivering promptly in the morning.
Small talk was exchanged between the adults whilst the children awkwardly stood apart. Even before the great Slytherin schism of this year, Draco had precious little to say to his two henchmen, and now that they weren't even 'friends', he really didn't know what to say, so settled on a indifferent silence. Gaara made it look cool so Draco figured he'd give it a try.
Only a minute or two after the first family arrived, the second came out of the fireplace in something of a rush. The Goyles had an identical set of smiles plastered on their faces when they arrived, though they slipped a mite when they spotted that the Crabbes had beaten them to the punch.
It was obvious to Draco that the two families knew that Lucius no longer had any real need for them, since their sons no longer protected Draco, and they were desperate to regain favour with the most prominent pureblood in Britain. Luckily, Lucius had made it clear recently that his initial insistence that Draco make up with Crabbe and Goyle had long since faded and the Malfoy lord was glad to be rid of the odious connection to those families.
It now just pained them all that they still had to interact with them at these functions. Especially with their sad attempts as winning the Malfoy's favour once again.
They were a step above blood-traitors and moderates, a small one.
Next to the party came the Norbels, dressed to the nines and looking a little nervous. Draco figured that they hadn't had cause to wear their finest dress robes in quite some time, and their early arrival was a (forgivable) faux pas as a result of their removal from high society functions. It was typically unfashionable of pariahs to try to arrive 'on time' to a party, but since no one thought anything of the Norbel family to begin with, they weren't treated harshly for their misstep.
The parents went to greet the Malfoy elders and thank them for the kind invitation and were treated to thinly veiled insults and contempt, which no one was surprised by. Lucius had an image to keep in polite society and it was expected that he treat families like the Norbels, guests or not, like trash.
Draco took the opportunity of his parents' distraction to approach Roy and say hello, forgoing the obvious apologies that were due since such sentiments would betray the divergence of his beliefs from those of his family. He also took the precaution of pulling Gaara forward with him, not willing to let him slip off with those dastardly 'shinobi' skills of his whilst everyone was distracted.
The tug Draco felt told him that Gaara had just been about to slip off, though looking at his face gave nothing away.
"Good evening, and welcome." Draco said, and with a nudge he encouraged Gaara to nod to Roy too.
"Merry Christmas Draco, merry Christmas Gaara. Thank you so much for inviting us. I don't think I've seen my mother so excited since I got my Hogwarts letter." He said with a beaming smile.
Draco smiled back and then dropped it before someone saw him looking so happy around a moderate. He could get away with such behaviour at school but here it could damage his father's reputation. What also made him frown was telling Roy, in whispers and hushed tones, how the evening had to be played out. They couldn't spend too long together; he shouldn't act friendly with any of the other purebloods there; his parents should keep their distance from pretty much anyone; and they should stick to safe topics that couldn't conceivably elicit reproach if they were addressed by another party-goer.
Draco was afraid that these rules, over which he had poured for hours, would offend Roy (and his other moderate guests) but to the contrary, his friend nodded with a solemnity the young Malfoy wouldn't have expected from his usually upbeat companion. It seemed that Roy, and even his parents, understood that their place at this party was one of novelty and that it was a privilege to even be invited.
Truthfully, one of the biggest reasons Draco had decided to ask for his friends to come, other than for their limited company, was because overall it would probably benefit their respective businesses greatly to be seen at the social event of the season. Even the Lovegoods might see a rise in Quibbler sales, if only as a sign of deference from lesser families towing the Malfoy line after it was seen that they were respectable enough to receive a (late) invitation to the party.
Draco would have taken his friend and his friend's family and spirited them away to the ballroom but he didn't want to risk the others arriving in his absence, nor did he want to leave the Norbels on their own in the hall where an 'accident' might befall them. These things did tend to happen at these parties.
Thank goodness Aunt Bellatrix was still safely in Azkaban. Accidents had sharply declined in her absence, not that Lucius or Narcissa cared to keep track of such things.
A few more eager guests arrived, including a few politicians Draco insisted Gaara should know, for some reason or another. Finally, a single young woman arrived, which was almost unheard of for such an event. Tracey was wearing an expensive looking gown, and Roy not-so-subtly pondered whether the quality of her finery was the happy benefit of her parents not having to update their own wardrobes for the night. Luckily she didn't hear as she was going through a shortened greeting from the Malfoy adults, who all but shooed her towards the Norbel family.
After all, a young woman couldn't stand on her own all evening and no one else there would want to be seen with a member of the Davis family. The only ones who could stomach it, other than the children, were a few of the secretly liberal politicians, and they were too afraid for their careers.
As more families and prominent individuals came in through the floo, Lucius told Draco to lead the bustling entry hall full of guests to the main function room.
Draco panicked but Gaara, with an exaggerated sigh, motioned Draco onwards and moved to stand near the Malfoy adults. He intended to stay put and watch out for anyone else Draco had invited. Lucius and Narcissa paid their silent guest little heed as they continued to chatter away with the guests. They assumed he was waiting for his Ravenclaw friend, or planning to sneak away.
Narcissa gently brought Gaara closer to them and introduced him to the head of... and Gaara zoned out as the head of one of the purest families in Yorkshire (he didn't know where that country was located) began to prattle on about his days in Slytherin when he was a lad.
Apparently the first thing adults liked to talk to kids about was their school days. Gaara was lucky that he had a good excuse for not joining the conversation.
Narcissa's presence at his side kept him from totally zoning out and risking the honourable Lord Someone from discovering his deep and unending disinterest. It was at times like these, and certainly at that damned robe-fitting, that Draco's mother reminded Gaara of his sister. Temari was one of the few strong women he came into regular contact with at home, and he had come to respect (read:fear) that strength. He often wondered if his mother might have been like that too. He'd asked his uncle when he was a child, but other than factual information and that she loved him...
He had never really known what his mother was like, but considering Temari's personality, and knowing that his mother had had to deal with his father, he liked to think she could have given Narcissa a run for her money.
A few dozen more witches and wizards strolled through the floo before someone he was remotely interested in came through. Luna popped in first, backwards, and then followed her surprisingly normal looking parent. The senior Lovegood was blonde like his daughter but did not observe his surroundings with the same... curiosity that had led to Luna's colourful nickname.
Xenophillius brazenly marched up to Lucius and stuck his hand out to shake, totally ignoring the grimace on Lucius's face and the glares surrounding them. Tense as could be, Lucius shook the hand presented to him but sneered the whole time. When it was broken off, Gaara imagined the pureblood had considered taking a moment to clean his hands off but had reconsidered since the Lovegoods were still technically invited guests. Mr Lovegood was also greeted by Narcissa who plastered on the same false smile that she had used to greet every newly arrived guest. Gaara liked that.
Since Draco was elsewhere, Gaara figured it was up to him to welcome Luna to the Malfoy mansion. Plus, there was a good chance that she might wander off into a dangerous area if she wasn't watched like a hawk. Though, by the way that Luna's father kept glancing at her, he guessed she was more than used to it by now. Xenophillius reminded Gaara of toned-down version of his daughter.
"Hello Gaara. It's nice to see you again. Thank you very much for inviting me a party." Luna was dressed in a fancy little dress and was smiling widely. For some reason, she kept looking Gaara in the eyes tonight.
Xenophillius leaned over to his daughter, aware of the Malfoy's watching, "No, dear, it was the Malfoy family who invited us their party."
Luna just looked up at her father with a blank stare before smiling and turning back to Gaara. "I saw a dead cat yesterday."
Bizarre as it was, Gaara couldn't deny that Luna's conversations were much more engaging than the drivel he had had to endure so far that evening. Luckily, it appeared that Lucius was so bewildered by Luna's eccentricities that he was choosing to ignore her presence altogether, rather than scorn her for remaining near Gaara and the greeting party. The adult Lovegood stood back a little and waited patiently, clearly understanding his place in all of this.
With Gaara otherwise engaged, the Malfoys moved to ignore the blemishes on their party. But Gaara noticed that Lucius only truly scowled when he saw the Minister for Magic, Cornelius Fudge, arrive, before wiping away the look and smiling like he was greeting an old friend.
He was a short man, Gaara hypocritically noted, and not at all what he imagined the leader of such a powerful country as this. Clearly he was more like the Daimyō than the Kage of this land, though he was given to believe that this man had actually been elected.
A curious state of affairs, but then, perhaps there was more to Fudge than met the eye. Logically, there had to be.
The Minister had an entourage with him who flocked about him in a very hindering sort of way, but that did nothing to dim the red-faced smile from Fudge's person. Assuming he had come straight from his office, Gaara couldn't imagine why he was looking so red and out of breath. Were all wizards so uniformly out of shape even by civilian standards?
Hell, according to most wizards, Draco could be classed as an athlete for his involvement in the House Quidditch cup. Gaara would have called him a lunatic long before a sportsman, or anything approaching it, for his broom-riding activities.
But then, Draco had often called him similar names for his physical fitness so Gaara supposed he shouldn't be too quick to judge.
Contrary to the visage presented to him, Gaara had to marvel at the atmosphere that the unassuming politician's presence had on the room. Conversations quieted, people turned, some looked eager whilst other looked ill. Fascinating.
Obviously the politics of this world were even more subtle and complex than those of his own.
...Which was a given in any world where the main requisite for leadership wasn't decided primarily on one's fighting ability.
Luna seemed content to ignore the atmosphere in the room, as Gaara believed she always had, and continued to chat away to him. She asked how he had liked it at the Malfoy's home and if any of the peacocks had tried to escape recently. He answered honestly to all of the questions directed at him, used to this strange manner of his... acquaintance's...friend's... of Luna's.
A problem presented itself when a couple of Draco's old friends appeared with their parents and Draco had yet to return from showing the other guests to the ballroom. He probably got caught in a boring conversation. Those traps were all around this night.
As expected, the children were all lumped together, these events only supposed to attract those of like-mind and thus their children should naturally get along famously. And this was one of the issues with trying to stir things up.
The Slytherins had always held a cool arrogance around Gaara as long as they held him at a significant distance, but now that they were forced into close quarters they found themselves a little more indifferent than their hostile natures might otherwise have dictated. Still, it did absolutely nothing to quell Luna's chattyness. Gaara couldn't imagine anything that could, and he had been trying since she arrived.
He was just thinking of alternative methods of escaping when he noticed the looks the Slytherin teens were throwing at Luna, who had moved on to something about a conspiracy of Spanish wizards to monopolise all of the bees in the world. They were too afraid to openly scorn Gaara despite his many shortcomings in their eyes, but Luna was an outsider and was, even by Gaara's admittance, annoying, so they did nothing to hide their hatred.
Gaara might have been convinced that Luna truly didn't notice her schoolmates' looks were it not for the fact that she was looking everywhere but in their direction, and she was getting even chattier, if that was possible.
He found Luna annoying, and he still wasn't sure what constituted a friend but he didn't she qualified, but even so, he found himself glaring directly at the Slytherins and then he growled.
He didn't often growl at people, even when he was in the habit of causing spontaneous bouts of incontinence in his home village when he was younger. Evidently something has upset him, but what?
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