open / 21 june 2004
The night was just starting, and Draco was already ready to go home. He couldn’t, but he could dream of being under his covers rather than under the scrutiny of his peers, eyes glued to him no matter how subtle they tried to be about their gossip. It had been this way for years now, but the disgrace his family suffered seemed to follow him wherever he went.
He would change that, one day. It would take time and effort, but Draco would restore the Malfoy name to where it once was. It was why he was at St. Mungo’s in the first place; donating was a good cause, yes, but more importantly, people would see a Malfoy being charitable. Good press, his mother said once when she sent him to his first charity gala. As the Malfoy heir, it was his duty to not only marry, but lead the family with pride -- the exact opposite of his father.
It was hard to do so when people kept staring, though, and getting on his nerves. Draco sighed loudly and turned around, giving whoever it was a plastic smile. “Can you ask your question already? I can feel your stare from over here.”