2/6

He returned the greeting with a nod. After all, there was no call to be rude to someone who had essentially always been courteous to him, if a tad uncouth when requesting he be her pet (as a fluffy, somewhat anthropomorphic, tanuki, granted).

"Are you going home for Christmas, Gaara?"

He shook his head.

"Oh," She dropped her smile for a second, "then you must be going to stay with Draco Malfoy for the holiday. I'm going home to see my father. I miss him when I'm at school; he can see the same things I can see. I wonder why the other people Hogwarts can't see the Nargles and Wrackspurts. But, then, you can't see them either, can you? That's a shame." One trait Gaara enjoyed about when conversing with Luna was that she didn't insist on making eye contact when talking to him. He'd never particularly liked looking people in the eyes, except maybe when he was brutally murdering them. That might be somehow related to his aversion now.

"Of course, when you're staying with at the Malfoys, you might encounter some of the Heliopaths that Minister Fudge has been hiding all around Britain. If you see any there, will you tell me about them?" Luna looked at him and he couldn't see the harm in nodding. After all, if he did indeed see some of these things, why not tell the one person in the world who would care.

"Oh, I forgot to say, I'm sorry about what happened with Ginny the night we all had that sleepover in the Great Hall. Apparently she was upset for some reason. I don't think she likes you very much. Do you know why?" Luna tilted her head like an owl, wide eyes included.

Gaara shook his head. He had a good idea of why the youngest of the Weasley's litter had attacked him but he didn't feel the need to share that information.

"Oh well. I'm sure once she gets to know you she won't be scared anymore."

Gaara raised his eyebrow. This girl was hopelessly oblivious. Her father must worry constantly about her walking off cliffs or petting Manticores.

"After all, Draco and I are the only people in the whole world that know you and we like you. Everyone else just doesn't know you yet, but I'm sure they will eventually. One day they'll all smile when you walk down the hallway, rather than all of that cowering that they do now."

Gaara appreciated the sentiment with which she was saying these optimistic but impossible things. He had paused when she mentioned the 'whole world' part, but it was presumably just hyperbole rather than some knowledge of his extraterrestrial origins. And although he couldn't believe a word of what she had said, he had to admit it was funny that all four of the people he had repeatedly interacted with, Sirius, Remus, Draco and her; they had all come to be his friends. Well, the former three were; Luna was someone whom he encountered more often than might be mistaken for coincidental. But she was nice enough, wasn't particularly annoying (when he was in human form), and seemed to enjoy his company so he supposed maybe they were indeed friends.

Still, his past in his home world had taught him that he was not a sociable creature. He was a monster, whether in practice or just in existence, and he couldn't count on more than a few people overlooking his glaring defects.

But Luna was kind to say it.

Soon after that, Luna began to shift in her spot and then an idea seemed to pop into her head and she said, in a moment of clarity, "I was on the way to the bathroom. I'm afraid I'll have to excuse myself. Have a nice Christmas, Gaara. Say hello to Draco for me. Or don't, whichever you think he'd prefer." She skipped past him to the end of the carriage where the toilets were located and Gaara walked onwards.

It seemed quite a few students were going home for the holidays. Apparently they would rather risk another attack on the train than spend the break in the castle surrounded by dementors. Plus the castle was being targeted by a mass-murderer, which Gaara often forgot. Draco had mentioned that almost everyone that had a home to go to was going there for Christmas because of the threat to the school.

What Draco hadn't mentioned was that Gaara was one of the reasons that the students were fleeing the school in terror. Draco was kind that way.

Two of the people who were going home, that Gaara subtly glanced along his path, were Ron Weasely and Hermione Granger, along with Ron's little sister and probably Luna when she returned from the privy. He didn't pass this compartment, but instead warily stayed back to listen in on what was being said inside. If he could steal the rat here then it would save him a lot of hassle in the long run, even if having to explain his taking of the Weasley family pet would be a pain in the short term.

Sadly, one of the first things discussed in the train compartment was that Hermione's cat was a monster and that it had eaten Ron's rat. Gaara panicked until Hermione complained that Ron had been repeatedly claiming that Crookshanks (presumably her cat) had eaten Scabbers for months and they still kept finding him. She assured him and, unbeknownst to them, Gaara, that Scabbers would be waiting for him when he got back to the school. Gaara sure hoped so.

They soon got over what was assuredly a rehashed gripe and moved on to lamenting that Harry had to stay in Hogwarts alone when they had been called home by their parents. Apparently Hermione had been filling her muggle parents in on the situation at school and was somehow surprised to find they didn't want her spending any time there that she didn't absolutely have to.

As he was leaving he heard them mention his name. He supposed they, like almost everyone else, talked about him behind his back at every opportunity. It would be narcissism if the student body didn't part like the Red Sea when he walked amongst them. Ron and Hermione were discussing having met him in the Leaky Cauldron before they went to Hogwarts. He continued walking away, he didn't need to hear gossip. That was what Draco was for.

He returned to his own carriage and seat after that, having seen enough of the train and its paranoid occupants to satisfy his wanderlust. Draco had apparently gone to speak to his own friends, either his old bigoted ones or the new moderate ones. Gaara was in no doubt that he preferred the latter group, or rather, since he didn't actually like associating with either, he preferred Draco hanging around the latter group. They were a better influence and they held a healthier respect for leaving Gaara alone.

Draco came back and they changed out of their school uniforms shortly shortly before hitting the outskirts of London. Draco put on an expensive-looking black suit that Gaara had never seen him wear before, and Gaara put on his casual robes that he had been given along with his uniform when Remus had taken him to Diagon Alley. He had thought about putting on his own clothes, but his ninja apparel would have drawn even more attention to him, and besides that was the fact that Draco's parents were wizarding xenophiles and would probably not appreciate him displaying his culture at their first meeting.

Gaara could see that Draco was incredibly tense as the train slowed to a stop and he searched out the window for his parents on the platform. Draco collected his trunk and had Gaara do the same so they could depart as soon as the train came to a stop. He said it was so they wouldn't have to wade through the crowds but Gaara thought it was probably more to do with not keeping Draco's father waiting.

Ironic that Draco's boggart would be about as revealing as his own. Some of their classmate's fears had been simple phobias or common aversions, but some clearly had deeper roots.

It turned out that almost every other student had opted to disembark quickly, to avoid the rush, and so everyone ended up shuffling around in a huddle until they had squeezed out of the train's doors and onto Platform 9 ¾.

Lucius and Narcissa watched the train pull up and the rabble pour out of the side with a bored detachment until Narcissa spotted a dearly familiar shiny platinum-blond head pushing through the throngs to where they always met to pick him up. Both Narcissa and her husband noticed immediately that Draco's companion, obviously this Gaara person they had heard so much about, had no such need to force his way through the rabble because the other children seemed to jump out of his way when they saw him.

He was shorter than they would have imagined, shorter than most of his classmates, in fact, but he walked confidently, though sadly without the proper bearing of a nobleman. He was dressed acceptably, if a little shabbily for meeting them, but then he was a foreigner so they would have to make some small exceptions. His face was calm and almost expressionless, not even holding their family's patented bored-contempt look. It was eerie to see such a look on a child's face when all of his peers were running around with insipid smiles and laughing all the way. Even Draco, as much as he tried, couldn't properly hide his thoughts from his expression. The poor child was obviously nervous.

Gaara and Draco approached and stopped to greet the two regal adults.

"Hello father, mother. This is Gaara." Draco turned to him so Gaara bowed a little and hoped he wouldn't accidentally offend someone. He'd always been uncomfortable in these sorts of formal situations since his father had (rightfully) gone to some lengths to keep him and his homicidal tendencies away from any visiting nobles, especially the Daimyo, when he was younger.

The two adults looked at him with undisguised contempt and they curtly nodded their heads to him and turned away towards the platform's floo terminals. It seemed they had concluded their greetings, which suited Gaara perfectly. He was, in many ways, a man of few words; though it was surprising that they were so cold to their son. Maybe they actually disliked him.

After the adults had walked through fire, a questionable mode of travel if ever Gaara had seen one, the red-head realised that the reason he had avoided using this method of travel before was because he was unable to vocalise his destination, hence why Remus had had to drag him out of the school wards to teleport them to Diagon Alley. Apparently Draco was smarter than a venerated war veteran and professor at Hogwarts, or else he had been thinking about the problem for a while, as he devised a solution to the problem immediately.

Although, as Draco called out "Malfoy Manor" and grabbed Gaara's hand, Gaara wondered if this idea had occurred to Lupin after all and the older man had simply not wanted to risk trying to hold Gaara's hand. As it was, Draco was on thin ice.

They walked out of the floo into a drafty stone chamber to find Draco's mother and father waiting for them, looking at them with all of the interest their all-too brief meeting had lacked.

As expected, the hall was ostentatious and dark and showed off the Malfoy family's elegant aesthetic blaringly, but not garishly. Though it did straddle a thin line between tasteful and over the top.

Another thought about the interior occurred to Gaara as he approached mister and missus Malfoy, that their decorating scheme was surprisingly minimalist. He'd half expected there to be cabinets filled to the brim with cursed relics and torture equipment hanging from the ceiling.

What the boy from another world didn't know was that such things had been found in abundance in the Malfoy abode until their house was raided by the Ministry a little while ago and the patriarch was forced to dispose of their wealth of obviously dark objects to avoid being arrested.

"Welcome home, Draco, dear, and welcome to Malfoy manor, Gaara." Narcissa was the first to break the silence, offering an economical smile to her son and an appraising look to Gaara. "I am Narcissa Malfoy and this is my husband Lucius."

She proffered her hand to him but obviously not to be shaken. He'd seen Rock Lee take that pink-haired girl's hand in this position and kiss it, but that was an overture for romance so perhaps it would be inappropriate to do the same. A second passed and he was clearly expected to do something so he did the only thing that he could think of and kissed her ring. It was an awkward movement but clearly not a wholly inappropriate one, earning him the thinnest smile from her.

Lucius didn't look all too interested in exchanging pleasantries with him but offered his own hand, this time in the more familiar position that invited a handshake. His hand was smooth and soft and clearly had never worked a day in its life. "I've been hearing some interesting things about you, Gaara. Quite unusual for someone so new to our country, still in school, to become so talked about. I hope you can live up to your reputation."

Gaara thought for a second and then sent up his sand, 'I have more than a few reputations. People like to talk.'

Both the adults were wide-eyed but once they had finished reading they calmed and schooled their features, and Narcissa spoke, "Well, Draco has told us about your lost voice and your peculiar affinity with sand spells, but it is quite the sight to see. You really must tell us how you came upon such an ability sometime."

"Yes, you really must." Lucius chipped in, smirking. "Draco, show your guest around the manor before dinner, your mother and I have some matters to discuss in private." He swiftly turned and marched out of the cavernous foyer into what looked like a luxurious drawing room, followed immediately by Narcissa who, like her husband, didn't spare a backwards glance to her son and guest.

Draco stood still for a few moments, presumably still processing the last few minutes with his parents and what they might have meant, before he snapped out of his daze and hurriedly beckoned Gaara to follow him. He led Gaara through the multitude of hallways and rooms that seemed utterly superfluous to the military man in Gaara, especially the empty guest rooms that numbered in the double digits.

Draco explained that his family used to have a house elf that did all the cleaning and cooking but Potter had freed it and now they had to pay squibs to do it. Very inconvenient and expensive compared to having Dobby do all the work, but that meddlesome Gryffindor had forced their hands.

Draco would never admit it but he missed Dobby a little. The family slave had known how he liked things and had been... nice, in his stupid, simple, idiotic way.

Draco briefly showed Gaara outside into the gardens for a look in the frigid December cold. All the bushes and trees were neatly trimmed and maintained despite the inhospitable weather. Gaara spotted a peculiar shed in the distance and pointed it out and Draco said, "Oh, that's where the groundskeeper puts the peacocks in the winter when it gets too cold out." Draco turned to see that Gaara was staring at him, "What?"

Gaara wasn't even sure he should be surprised anymore. Peacocks...

Both the teens soon grew cold and returned inside and continued the tour, the platinum-blond showing Gaara around to the expansive dining rooms (multiple), to the enormous ball room with covered furniture and immaculately polished stone floor, and to the library where Gaara wanted to spend the majority of his time over the coming weeks. After a little prompting, Draco also showed him around to the kitchens and to nearby bathrooms, and to where Draco and his parents slept in case of emergencies. They walked quickly past Lucius's study but Draco warned him not to go in there, especially not if his father was in the house.

It was already late when they had arrived at the manor, so by the time Gaara and Draco concluded their wandering it was time to sit down for dinner with mister and missus Malfoy. The dinner table was long and heavy and made out of a dark wood that Gaara didn't want to risk marking. The Malfoy parents sat at opposite ends of the expansive table while Gaara and Draco sat across from one another in the middle. The seating configuration made it tricky for Gaara as he had to pretend not to struggle to hear whenever either adult spoke in their elegantly soft dining voices from the considerable distance. He didn't want to look simple.

Gaara noticed that Lucius spoke almost entirely to him over dinner, sparing his son only fleeting comments or pleasantries and, only talking to his wife to add to what she had said or to include her in the conversation. He chalked Lucius's attitude to his wife up to the actual physical distance between them at the dinner table (and internally tried to work out how they heard each other speaking), but the way he spoke to and looked at Draco was troubling. He had feared that Lucius was physically abusive to his friend after seeing Draco's boggart attack him, and had planned to put an abrupt stop to it if he needed to over the holidays. But now Gaara understood it was something else, something perhaps more damaging, Lucius was just a cold man who starved his son of love. A couple of assassination attempts and a dead wife and he would be a dead ringer for Gaara's father.

Worst yet, unlike physical attacks that he could easily stop in a heartbeat (stopping the heartbeat would probably do the trick, though) but emotional abuse wasn't something he could stop so easily. And he sure as hell wasn't mentally stable or healthy enough to be a crutch for a similarly messed up boy.

All through this deliberation, small talk abounded and Gaara sedately ate his meal, which he was surprised to find was even more sumptuous than Hogwarts' banquets.

"I apologise, Gaara, if Draco's proclivity towards showing off left you feeling uncomfortable. I'm sure you are somewhat unused to such surroundings; Draco can forget, sometimes, that others who weren't raised in such splendour can feel unsettled in our home."

Gaara didn't know which to be more upset about: the barely veiled insult, or how upset Draco looked as he stared down at his food.

'It is certainly different. My home is somewhat larger than your house, but my mansion doesn't have any gardens.' Gaara's expression didn't shift at all as he spelt the words out, purposefully pausing his eating to mimic dinnertime conversation. Some people seemed to find it rude when he completely ignored them as he talked to them. 'Though it did have some greenhouses.' Gaara sand finished as an afterthought.

Lucius stared blankly at him for a few moments, as did Draco and Narcissa, before turning back to his meal.

Gaara didn't usually like to brag, but when it was for a good cause he was willing to make an exception. He had only actually moved into the Kazekage mansion recently, with the expectation being that he would become the next village leader when he was ready. Baki, as interim leader, had been counting the days until Gaara was able to take up his position.

After Lucius had stumbled at his parried barb, Narcissa took up the reigns of the conversation and continued the small talk around the table, asking Draco and Gaara about their studies and favourite subjects (Potions for Draco, anything other than Potions for Gaara), any other friends they had socialised with in Slytherin. Eventually Narcissa took up a subject that Lucius had been waiting to come up, if his quick interjection was any indication.

"Gaara, how has your spellcasting come along? Draco has told us that you initially had a little difficulty with performing spells." Narcissa was nursing her wine, having finished with her starter course already.

"Yes, we were quite concerned for you. You come from an entirely magical family so it must have been very upsetting when you arrived at Hogwarts and weren't able to keep up with the classes there. I suppose in your country, they move at a slower pace. Or perhaps they just don't teach the same range that Hogwarts offers their students." Lucius seemed to be back up to full speed again after his little stumble.

Gaara paused, as Draco noticed he did whenever the red-head considered speaking about his home. 'My spellwork is improving, thank you.' Draco hid a derrisive snort in his goblet.

'In my home country, we are taught more specific skills from an early age. Though we do not call it magic there, it amounts to the same thing. My family has been able to use what you call magic since before the formation of my country.' Gaara figured his answer should satisfy Lucius's fanatical, pureblood curiosity for the moment.

Lucius dutifully rattled off the appropriate compliments for Gaara's ancestry, secretly wondering if Gaara was telling the truth, followed by Narcissa asking some polite questions about his immediate family. He took his sweet time to answer them, finishing off his starter (a tasteful selection of pâtés and spreads) before he deigned to respond. He acted as if he was leisurely finishing his course whilst he debated what to share now.

'I have a brother and sister back at home.'

"Oh really? Older or younger?" Narcissa asked without a moment's hesitation, unknowingly stumbling into Gaara's bubble of strict privacy. Draco, meanwhile, kicked himself for never having the guts to ask Gaara about his family directly.

'I am the youngest and my sister is the oldest. Both of them are very accomplished.'

"What are their names?" Lucius chipped in, clicking his fingers loudly and summoning the half-blood maid to clear the table and bring out their main courses.

'My sister is called Temari and my brother is Kankurō.'

"Interesting names; are all the people where you are from given similar names?" Narcissa said.

'Somewhat.'

"What about your surname?" Everyone at the table turned to look at Draco as he spoke up abruptly after having lapsed into silence for the majority of the meal. He had been bursting to answer one of a myriad of mysteries surrounding Gaara, and now seemed like the best opportunity.

'I don't have one.' Gaara didn't blink or look at all concerned by his lack of a second name, in fact he looked like he was waiting for Draco to make his point."You... you don't have surname? Do people in your homeland not usually use a second name?" Narcissa couldn't imagine a world where one's lineage wasn't vital to be established upon introducing oneself to someone, neither could Draco or Lucius.

'Typically, no. In my village, they aren't used. Most other places in the surrounding lands use some form of family name.' Gaara had had a similar conversation with his blonde friend in Konoha about Suna's ostensible lack of surnames amongst its citizens and that airhead had been just as flummoxed.

"Doesn't that make identifying the right sort all the harder?"

'Right sort?'

"Yes, wizards, purebloods. Magic users." Lucius pressed on, concerned that Gaara might be from an entire culture of blood traitors.

'Typically the clothing gives it away, as well as the social circles they travel in. But you can't always know, even when they possess family names, unless they come from a well known clan.'

"Interesting. There is something that I feel many have neglected to ask, but where exactly do you come from, Gaara? I thought I was well versed with most magical cultures around the world and yet you might as well me a muggle for all I know about you and your culture." Lucius smiled as he said it, but from the sweat beading on Draco's brow, Gaara guessed he had just been dealt a harsh insult (by pureblood standards).

'My home is called Sunagakure, which means village hidden by sand. My homeland is shrouded by secrecy so it's no wonder you've never heard of the hidden villages.' Gaara was quite enjoying the veal he'd been served, and the conversation was entertaining. It would serve as good practice for when he had political sit-downs with ally nations, except for Konoha, their current Hokage (and the probable successor) was not one for mincing words.

"Really, how mysterious." The way Narcissa drawled the line made Gaara wonder if even she knew whether she was being sincere. "That's far away, I suppose?"

'Yes.'

"You had no problem travelling so far to go to school, so far away from your home and your family?" She continued.

'I came to England because of another matter, and since I couldn't get home immediately, I saw no reason not to enjoy the benefits of a first-rate magical education in the meantime.'

"It was suggested by some that Draco should have gone to the Durmstrang Institute because of its more liberal views the on magics that they teach, but we decided that it was simply too far to send him." The cool composure Narcissa displayed completely belied the fact that the 'some people' who had wanted Draco sent away had been Lucius and the 'we' that had decided to keep him close by had been her. It was hard enough sending her precious son to the other end of the country.

'He wouldn't have fared very well there, I don't imagine.' Gaara said, ignoring the startled and incredulous looks he received around the table. Draco, in particular, looked quite offended, and a little upset, by the apparent lack of faith Gaara had in him. 'I've read a little about the institute and it sounds far too cold. No sane person could learn in a freezing school.'

The conversation lapsed for a few moments longer than a properly hosted dinner should as the Malfoys tried to process Gaara's logic.

Eventually they moved on to the Quidditch game that had almost seen Draco lose his life, for which the Malfoy males were very begrudgingly thankful to Dumbledore for saving. They discussed the dementors posted at the school and Lucius gave no indication that he had been talking to the Minister for Magic that very afternoon about that subject.

"Gaara, do you know why Sirius Black was sent to Azkaban?" Draco blushing furiously after his mother had, with all the proper deportment and manners expected of her standing, risen from her chair, walked over to Draco and wiped his cheek with her napkin to rid it of the speck of gravy no one else had seen. Her face didn't show compassion or even interest, but Gaara smirked imperceptibly at the sign that at least one of the Malfoy adults cared about Draco. Perhaps both of Draco's parents truly did love him like any good parent should, and they both just held onto their masks of indifference and hostility because a guest was present. He hoped so.

But he doubted it in Lucius' case.

Nonetheless, it was very funny watching his friend being embarrassed by his mother.

Dessert that night was treacle tarts, which Gaara was ashamed to see Draco eat with such vigour as he knew the only reason that the Malfoy child would never partake of his apparently favourite sweet at Hogwarts was because it was also Harry Potter's preferred pudding. Behind all of the politics and bigotry, Draco really was still a child.

After dinner, they all retired to the drawing room and quietly read for an hour before bed. Gaara was tempted to turn in early so that he could give Draco and his parents some time to themselves, but he'd found a very interesting book about obscure runic array theory that held a little promise regarding his ongoing search and didn't want to put it down. Sadly, near the middle the author finally wrote that most of his work had subsequently proven false or had been discredited.

It was Lucius who unilaterally decided they were all tired enough to go to bed, and Narcissa ushered he and Draco out to the grand staircase. Gaara spelled out a 'thank you' and 'good night' before walking up his set of stairs to the wing of the mansion that housed the guest rooms, but he lingered at the top for a moment.

He hid in the shadows and watched as Narcissa checked the coast was clear and then pulled Draco into a hug and kissed him repeatedly, as if waiting had made her even more frantic. They exchanged a few hushed words that Gaara believed were heartfelt and emotional, until Lucius approached and both straightened up and then all three passed around some officious looking sentiments, then all three trudged up the stars to their bedrooms in silence.

OXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

A few days into the holiday, Draco rapped lightly on his father's study door and waited for permission to enter.

Things had been slow to start with, his parents and Gaara being unsure of how to act around each other, but eventually things had eased and Gaara had felt free enough to do his own thing, as he was wont to do wherever he was staying, it seemed.

That very morning, Gaara had walked in from his morning exercises and whilst Lucius and Narcissa had privately derided their houseguest for performing such plebeian/muggle activities, Draco incredulously asked "Don't you ever sweat?" Looking at Gaara's pristine appearance after spending over an hour performing feats that Draco wouldn't stand a chance doing.

To which Gaara answered, in the most deadpan manner a person who cannot speak could manage, 'In this weather?'

The desert dweller was far from overheating in the frosty south-western winter.

"Come." His father beckoned from inside.

His father was completing the final preparations for the Malfoy Christmas party and Draco had a complication he had been avoiding giving to his father that couldn't feasibly wait any longer.

"What do you need, Draco?" His father disliked the social side of his obligations, being a die-hard businessman and politician through and through, so these party functions were usually left to his dutiful wife, except when they required his personal touch. Such as now when he needed to invite everyone of note to the party and even his well-connected wife couldn't be expected to know or remember the countless names of his co-workers.

"It's about the guest list, father..." Draco had spent the better part of an hour in the library silently practicing how he would word his request in his head but it had all suddenly left him.

"What about it?" Lucius turned to look at his son and heir, mention of what he was working on garnering his attention.

"Well, I want to invite a few more guests."

Draco had floated this idea past Gaara earlier and his friend had, with all his oblivious lack of fear or social grace, told Draco to do it if it was what he wanted.

Lucius raised his eyebrow at his son's request. All of Draco's friends (their families) had already been invited, when it was polite to send such invitations. Draco knew just as well as he that any invitation sent out a week before the party could only been seen as an insult to any upstanding family.

"Whom would you like to invite?"

"Some friends from school, father."

"I've already invited all of your school friends; long since."

"Not them, I mean my other friends."

"Other friends? Surely you haven't been fraternising with the other houses or mudbloods." There was no question in Lucius' glare.

"O-of course not, father. I meant some of the moderates from Slytherin, sir. I've come to know a few of them this year, oh, and Luna Lovegood, from Ravenclaw. Her father owns the Quibbler."

His piercing stare not letting up, Lucius continued, "Who from Slytherin?"

"Roy Norbel, Tracey Davis, and Miles Bletchley."

"The Bletchley boy is on the Quidditch team so I suppose I can make an exception for his parents, but I won't be inviting the Norbels. And as for the Davis's, I can only wonder what could have inspired you to want to invite that blood-traitor family into this house. It's one thing to have moderates here, that I can explain away as your youthful indiscretion, but to have a Davis come would be an insult to every one of our guests." Lucius didn't even deign to mention Tracey's 'mudblood' mother personally.

"And the Quibbler is a rag; you shouldn't be associating with other houses in the first place. Though at least you had the sense not to go near a Hufflepuff or, god forbid, a Gryffindor."

Draco took a breath, "Of course we couldn't invite a muggle or someone married to one, but..." Draco cursed in his head, he had been practicing this, "but the moderates are an untapped resource in Slytherin. None of the pureblood families will associate with them, so no one is exploiting any power or financial resources they hold, yet. It might not look too good in the short term, but eventually we will be even more prosperous, and we will still be above those lower families who we can monopolise. And even though the Quibbler is filled with nonsense, it is the fourth largest weekly publication in Britain and can you ever really control enough media?" None of this Draco believed, but it sounded believable.

...right?

Lucius regarded Draco for a long time, neither moving an inch until Lucius sighed and turned back around to his desk.

"I sometimes forget how impetuous the younger generation can be. I suppose it will serve as enough of a message that we sent out the invitations this close to the event. I will invite the Bletchleys, the Norbels, the..." Lucius sighed, "the Lovegoods, and miss Davis. I expect them to behave properly and to understand their place at the party, Draco. I will have to explain to our other guests why they are there on the night."

"Oh, thank you, father." Draco understood that in other, less prestigious families, this would have been the time for a son to hug his father, but Draco held no such peculiar notions and settled for a hybrid nod/bow and backed out of the room and left his father to finishing the arrangements, and now the guest list.

Sweating buckets, he went back to the library to sink into a chair and breathe into a paper bag. Gaara gave him a small smile from behind his huge book.

That had been terrifying for Draco, so much so that he was simply glad not to need a change of trousers. It seemed like a small victory in hindsight, but any stand made against his father was a monumental one in Draco's eyes. It would be great to have friends at the party that he himself had picked, and Luna.