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Chapter 28 —
The final exam results were out, which meant the school year was truly coming to an end.
In the Slytherin common room, the wall-side fireplace had been cold for weeks. Summer was approaching, and the air was already getting warm. Crabbe and Goyle (the two blockheads trailing after him, as always) were trying to flatter Malfoy because he had ranked first in their year—but it was clear he wasn't enjoying it.
"Crabbe, Goyle—enough." Draco raised a hand, signaling them to stop. "These exams don't mean much. You don't need to waste your time flattering me." He paused, then shot Goyle a look. "And your results? Probably because Professor Snape marked kindly. Don't expect the same luck next time."
Goyle nodded obediently. Whether he understood or not was a mystery only the heavens could answer.
"What's the point of being first anyway? We still lost the House Cup," Pansy muttered sharply. She was clearly still sulking over it.
"Look on the bright side. Even if I earned twenty points for ranking first, Dumbledore would still have found a way to give Gryffindor more," Draco said dryly.
"Scheming old man," Pansy grumbled.
"Alright, enough about that. It's over. You should all be thinking about how to enjoy the holiday." Draco steered the topic away.
"Isn't that something you should be thinking about?" Pansy asked, genuinely surprised.
"Ah… well." Draco realized, too late, that he'd chosen the wrong subject. "I've got a lot of practical work to do this summer. Magic and… life, both." He shrugged casually. "You know how strict my father is. And I'm planning to sponsor some new brooms for the team next year, so maybe I should prove myself over the holiday."
Complete nonsense—yet entirely reasonable-sounding.
"Then… does that mean I won't see you over the summer?" Pansy's voice wavered, though she tried to hide it.
"Of course you will. Even adults get time off—so a child laborer like me definitely does," Draco said quickly. Though inwardly he thought, I may not give myself a holiday at all.
"Alright…" Pansy nodded reluctantly. "Bring me a gift, then," she whispered.
"Of course." Draco agreed without hesitation.
---
The next day, the students boarded the Hogwarts Express. Their trunks were packed, and each had received the usual reminder—not to use magic outside of school during the holidays. Draco and his friends sat in an ordinary compartment. In his previous life, he had once heard a great man say, 'We come from the people; we return to the people.' He didn't like sitting alone. A lively ride home was far better.
A few seats away sat the Golden Trio.
"You must come to our place this summer," Ron said earnestly. "Both of you—I'll send an owl."
"Thanks," Harry replied. "I really need something to look forward to."
"That family of yours is awful," Ron muttered, bristling with indignation.
"I'm used to it," Harry said. "Maybe this summer won't be too bad."
"What, did they suddenly change?" Ron snorted.
"I swear, Ron," Hermione said, finally looking up, "sometimes Muggle logic fits you surprisingly well. Harry—don't tell me you didn't mention that students aren't allowed to use magic outside of school?"
Harry blinked. "Well… no."
"Brilliant!" Ron cheered. "Your cousin won't dare bully you now!" Then he turned to Hermione. "And relax a bit—we're number one!"
He glanced at the magazine in her hands—Transfiguration Today. "Honestly, I can't believe you're still studying on the way home. So what if that snuffbox had a few hairs left on it? Even if someone's perfect at Transfiguration, it doesn't win the House Cup, right? Harry?" He nudged Harry meaningfully.
"Ron, keep your voice down," Harry hissed.
Hermione closed her magazine slowly and looked up. "The House Cup is a collective honor. But that doesn't mean I should stop improving myself. And we earned those points because others helped us."
"Alright, alright. The Headmaster helped, Professor McGonagall helped, even that greasy old bat helped—fine. They're teachers; that's their job. It's not like a Slytherin helped us or something." Ron burst into laughter at his own joke.
Hermione's expression dulled immediately. She lowered her head and resumed reading without a word.
"Oh, Ron," Harry sighed, "maybe think before you speak?"
Ron clapped a hand over his mouth. "Yeah… I think I messed up again. I just don't know how."
---
Meanwhile, Draco, Pansy, and the others were trying to pass the slow trip by playing cards. It was… underwhelming. A game was boring when you won every round—and if they were gambling, Crabbe and Goyle would have lost their trousers by now.
"I finally understand why you keep your distance from the two of them. They're unbelievably dull," Pansy declared as she tossed down a King of Hearts.
"I think we should switch games." Draco snapped his fingers. The deck vanished, replaced by a pile of small rectangular tiles.
"What's this?" Pansy asked.
"A game from a rather mysterious Eastern country. Rules are simple," Draco said lightly.
"Again with the East… You really like that culture, don't you? Even the stories you told before were from there. Now it's games too."
There was a slight sourness to her tone—so slight Draco would've missed it if he weren't him.
Her next words clarified everything.
"So what—are you interested in that Ravenclaw girl because she's from the East? Was that why you rescued her last time? I knew the two of you would have so much in common…"
Draco exhaled helplessly. "Never underestimate a woman's ability to connect unrelated dots." Then he said, "Come on—let's just play. The rules are…"
It must be said: this ancient game had survived for a reason. Within minutes, even Crabbe and Goyle were laughing and invested. Pansy forgot her jealousy completely, absorbed by the tiny tiles spread across the table.
"This game of yours is awful," she complained after losing several rounds, cheeks puffed in frustration.
"You always say it's boring when you're losing," Draco sighed. "And when they get lucky, you say the game isn't fun."
"Well then—you'll help me next round," Pansy declared fiercely.
And just like that, the table turned into a one-sided massacre.
"I win again!" Pansy cheered, sweeping her tiles aside—only to realize they'd vanished.
"Dear Pansy," Draco said, clapping his hands lightly, "sorry to spoil your fun, but we've arrived."
"Oh…" Pansy pressed her lips together, obviously unwilling to let the game end.
"I'll bring something even more fun next time." Draco ruffled her hair affectionately.
"Stop—people are watching!" Pansy swatted his hand away, cheeks pink. She still wasn't used to public displays of affection.
Draco helped her carry her luggage off the train. Though she didn't say a thing, he could see the reluctance in her eyes.
I really am busy this summer, he thought, conflicted.
Forget it. One step at a time.
---
The moment he stepped onto the platform, he saw Lucius and Narcissa waiting. They waved him over, elegant as ever.
"Pansy, darling, I haven't seen you in a year—you've grown so much," Narcissa said warmly, focusing immediately on the girl beside Draco. "Did little Draco bully you at school? If he did, tell me—I'll sort him out."
Narcissa, as always, was enthusiastically matchmaking. Pansy fit every criterion: pure-blood, well-mannered, familiar family… and obedient enough.
"He treats me very well," Pansy whispered, blushing.
"Of course. Being a gentleman runs in the family," Lucius added smoothly.
"Why don't you come visit us this summer, Pansy?" Narcissa offered.
"No—thank you very much, but my father is here," Pansy said, pointing at Hector Parkinson, who was scanning the crowd for her.
"Then I won't insist. There's plenty of time over the holiday," Narcissa said kindly. "Go on—don't make your father wait. If he waits any longer, he might think someone has kidnapped his daughter." She winked teasingly.
Afterward, Hector and Lucius exchanged polite greetings, and the families separated, heading to their respective homes.
---
The Malfoys stepped through their fireplace into the familiar manor. The opulent carpets, the polished marble, the gilded frames—it was unmistakably home.
Which meant Draco's summer plans had officially begun.
"The first task," Draco whispered, fingers closing around the small vial in his pocket, "is you."
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