After receiving her acceptance letter, Draca quickly wrote to Hogwarts.
She asked Severus, who had been close to her family since she was little, whether there were any books on Potions she could read besides the assigned textbook.
Though she couldn’t quite explain why, the young girl had always vaguely regarded Potions as the subject she liked most.
Perhaps it was simply because Severus, who taught Potions and was almost like a godfather to her, had made her fond of the subject by association.
Every textbook listed in the acceptance letter could already be found in the library at Malfoy Manor.
While this made things considerably more convenient for Draca, it also left her with less reason to rush off to Diagon Alley.
Through their correspondence, she learned that Pansy and Daphne had already visited Diagon Alley separately, and that both of them now had their own wands.
Naturally, that made Draca somewhat impatient.
Fortunately, the contents of her textbooks soon occupied most of her attention.
There was no shortage of magical plants in the manor’s greenhouses, while the cellars beneath the main residence contained cauldrons and potion ingredients.
She spent her days immersed in reading and curious practical experiments, while her correspondence with Severus almost turned into a small course conducted by letter.
Even without a wand of her own yet, the girl eagerly awaiting the start of term kept herself thoroughly occupied.
Watching her, Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy couldn’t help being reminded of their own childhoods, so many years ago.
And so, the final day of July arrived.
By then, Draca had read through her textbooks so many times that she’d grown tired of them and was impatient to learn more about the principles behind spells and potions.
She pestered Severus until he finally recommended The Book of Potions, and only then did the somewhat difficult text manage to slow her down.
Over the past few days, she had developed a habit of entering the library after breakfast, taking the hardcover volume with her, and hiding away somewhere in the garden Narcissa so carefully tended to read.
Today was no different.
It was nearly noon, and the height of summer had made the sunlight even fiercer.
The water in the square pool before her glittered so brightly that it was almost dazzling.
Draca closed the book and glanced around.
Finding no one else in the garden, she raised both arms high above her head and stretched out her body.
It was hardly proper behavior, but it felt wonderfully comfortable, and she gave herself a long, luxurious stretch.
The hem of her blouse lifted slightly, revealing a strip of pale waist.
A warm breeze brushed past, bringing with it a trace of coolness.
She left the rose-covered wall surrounding the square pool and crossed the broad lawn.
By the time she was making her way back toward the main residence, a faint sheen of perspiration had formed across her forehead.
After another five minutes, she reached the small patch of shade in front of the manor’s main entrance.
There, she spotted one of her father’s beloved snow-white peacocks standing proudly on a tree branch, looking as magnificent as ever.
A childish impulse suddenly struck her.
Ignoring the book she was awkwardly holding beneath one arm, Draca rose onto her toes, puffed out her cheeks, and made a soft cooing sound in imitation of the peacock’s call.
The peacock merely shook its head with obvious impatience and ignored her.
Finding no amusement in the one-sided exchange, Draca turned away.
Just as she was about to leave, a series of loud, resonant cries suddenly erupted directly above her.
The unexpected noise startled Draca badly enough that she let out a small “Ah!” The book slipped from her hands and landed on the grass, while she herself nearly fell backward onto the ground.
Pouting, she turned and glared at the smug-looking peacock.
Then she bent down, picked up her book, and brushed the bits of grass from it, her cheeks coloring slightly in embarrassment at her own loss of composure.
Fortunately, after walking beneath the blazing summer sun, her face had already taken on a healthy flush, making the blush impossible to notice.
At last, she climbed the manor’s long marble steps and lightly tapped the heels of her shoes against the stone slabs, knocking the dust from their soles.
The two heavy black doors seemed to recognize their mistress returning home.
Before Draca even touched them, they slowly opened outward on their own.
Before stepping inside, she parted her lips and softly called the house-elf’s name.
“Dobby?”
A soft crack sounded.
The house-elf appeared and looked at his young mistress, who was breathing slightly faster than usual and still radiating traces of summer heat.
Without needing to be told anything, he extended one long, thin finger and pointed it at Draca.
A magical breeze swept around her.
In an instant, Draca felt as though her entire body had been rinsed clean by a fresh spring.
The oppressive heat vanished, leaving her cool and refreshed.
Before she could thank him, Dobby spoke in his shrill voice.
“Young mistress will want to know that Professor Snape has come to visit Master!”
Draca’s clear silver-gray eyes immediately lit up.
The moment she heard Dobby’s words, she quickened her pace with small, hurried steps.
She turned into the corridor in the northeastern wing of the manor.
As she passed the study door, which had only been left slightly ajar, she heard her father’s displeased voice from within.
“Quirrell?
Of all people, it shouldn’t have been him taking over the position.
What did he teach before this?
Muggle Studies?
A ridiculous subject.”
“I tried, Severus.
The school governors agreed with me as well, but it made no difference.”
“That old man was unusually insistent.
You should have heard what he said—”
“‘I greatly appreciate the concern shown by the Board of Governors, but the appointment of professors remains the Headmaster’s sole authority.'”
“‘I believe that, until the proper time comes, Potions will remain the most suitable arrangement for him.'”
Hearing her father imitate an old man’s voice, Draca couldn’t help frowning.
Eavesdropping on a private conversation was an extreme breach of aristocratic etiquette.
And yet, she couldn’t deny that there was something strangely intriguing about it.
She lightly bit her lip and forced herself to move on.
Slowly, she headed toward the drawing room in the southeastern part of the manor, intending to wait there until her father and Severus had finished discussing official matters and could relax.
“Don’t concern yourself with it.”
Severus’s lazy voice drifted from behind her, making Draca unconsciously slow her steps.
“No one ever lasts more than a year in that position.
There will always be another opportunity.
Besides, you know—”
“This year is different.”
“Hmph.
The Boy Who Lived?”
Those final two lines from her father and Severus made Draca’s heartbeat stumble.
So even Severus was paying attention to that boy named Harry Potter.
Draca shook her head.
Her right hand unconsciously tightened around the folding fan she kept at her waist.
It was a habit she’d developed to settle herself whenever her thoughts became unsettled.
Ever since Draca had been old enough to understand such things, Narcissa had repeatedly reminded her that a young lady from a distinguished family shouldn’t reveal her emotions too easily.
For that reason, it was best to cultivate a few small habits that could help calm one’s mood.
Whenever she noticed her temper worsening, such gestures could effectively shift her attention elsewhere.
In the past, the habit had always helped her regain control of her emotions.
Yet for some reason, this time the irritation in her heart refused to settle.
The entrance of the young heiress of the Malfoy family into Hogwarts should have been a major event in the wizarding world.
But Draca secretly worried that Harry Potter would steal the attention that rightfully should have belonged to her.
Perhaps that was also why she’d been so eager to familiarize herself with the curriculum in advance.
She was afraid that even the slightest carelessness might leave her far behind the Boy Who Lived.
After all, according to the stories, he was a wizard of extraordinary talent.
While still an infant, he’d successfully driven back the Dark Lord whom even Dumbledore had been unable to deal with.
As those thoughts passed through her mind, Draca quickened her pace, afraid that Severus might realize she had been standing outside the study.
She had known since childhood that Severus somehow always seemed capable of seeing straight through her thoughts.
She was certainly still curious about the conversation between him and her father.
But the dignity of a daughter of the Malfoy family wouldn’t allow her to be caught eavesdropping.
She hurried away on quiet, careful steps and slipped into the drawing room.
She had only been seated for a short while when footsteps approached from outside.
Lucius and Severus pushed open the drawing room’s wooden door.
“Good afternoon, Father, Severus.”
Draca hurriedly rose to her feet, resting her right hand lightly against the back of the armchair as she gave a small curtsy.
“Were you out in the garden again this morning?”
Lucius stepped forward and affectionately stroked Draca’s smooth, long hair.
Then he turned toward the figure behind him, whose glossy black hair fell to his shoulders beneath a long black robe.
“Will you stay, Severus?
We’re just about to have lunch.”
“No.
I still have matters to attend to.
Good afternoon, Draca.”
Severus spoke in his usual languid tone.
But when he greeted Draca, his dark eyes narrowed.
The corner of his mouth curled into a meaningful smile.
Draca suddenly had the uncomfortable feeling that the entire process of her accidentally overhearing their conversation had been laid bare before his eyes.
Before she could even try to defend herself, Severus looked away.
“Don’t work yourself too hard.
First-year coursework isn’t as difficult as you imagine.”
His tone was casual and indifferent.
But Draca couldn’t shake the feeling that Severus already knew she’d overheard part of his conversation with her father.
Especially after what he said before leaving.
“Don’t overthink things.
Fame doesn’t always come with matching ability.”
Lucius looked completely baffled.
Draca, however, lowered her head, hiding the pink flush spreading across her cheeks after having her thoughts seen through.
It really helps the fic grow!