wc: 1205

careful what you ask for

Draco swallows hard, swinging his legs nervously beneath the dinner table. He glances quickly between the plate of untouched food in front of him, then across the table to his father, who's too busy eating to even glance up.

Draco turns to his mother, seated at his left, and she smiles gently, giving her seven-year-old son an encouraging nod.

Draco clears his throat, twirling his fork around in his fingers.

His father finally looks up from his plate, silver-grey eyes fixing on his son. "Yes, Draco? Is there something you need?"

Draco takes a deep breath. "Father, I want a pet."

His father blinks, running a hand through his platinum-blond hair. "Excuse me?"

"I want a pet, please," Draco repeats, more slowly this time. His voice is shaking. "I—I already talked to Mother about it, and—"

His father's jaw tightens and that steely gaze whirls on Draco's mother. "You went behind my back, Narcissa?" he hisses. "Now, for the rest of his life, our son is going to believe that—"

"Let him finish," she interrupts, quiet but firm, her dark eyes narrowing. "He's been preparing this speech for a while now, Lucius. The least you could do is listen to him."

Draco chews on his bottom lip anxiously, trying to gauge his father's reaction.

"Fine," Lucius says stiffly, turning back to Draco. "Continue."

Draco exhales a sigh of relief. He sets his fork down carefully on his plate and braces his small hands on the edge of the table.

"Father," Draco begins, "since I'm not going to Hogwarts yet, I spend my days at home. And since I have no other siblings, I'm alone most of the time."

Lucius frowns. "Ask the house elf to entertain you. And you should be focusing on studying in preparation for school, not frolicking around with a pet."

Draco licks his lips. "I would ask the house elf to play with me, but I wouldn't want to stop him from doing the chores you assigned him around the house."

Lucius stares at him for a moment before nodding slowly. "That… makes sense."

Draco smiles proudly. Mother had helped him come up with that reasoning, and he had even remembered the exact way she had wanted him to say it!

He sneaks a look at her and she's practically glowing with encouragement.

"I promise I'll keep up with my work, Father," Draco swears. "And I'll do such a good job taking care of the pet that you wouldn't even know it's there!"

With that, Draco sits back slowly, releasing a breath. That's it. He's finished. He has no more reasons to offer, no more fancy words to prove his point.

He hopes it's enough.

There's a long, long moment of silence.

"You've thought about this a lot," Lucius notes.

Draco nods eagerly.

"All right," Lucius concedes finally. "Fine. You may have a pet, but I don't want to see a single trace of it in this house. Understood?"

"Yes, thank you!" Draco cries happily. "When can we go to get it? Can we go tomorrow? Can we go now?"

"We?" Lucius echoes sharply. "No. I'll send the house elf to get it for you first thing in the morning."

Draco deflates slightly, but he tries his best not to let his disappointment show. He'll still be getting a pet! What does it matter if he picks it out or not?

Draco wakes the next morning unable to breathe.

His grey eyes fly open, darting frantically around his bedroom. But his view of the walls and floor and wide windows is blocked by a blur of cinnamon-colored fur.

Draco shoves the thing—whatever it is—off his face, relieved when a wash of cool air fills his mouth. He breathes deeply, his pale face flushed.

Then he pushes himself into a sitting position on his enormous mattress, untangling his small hands from the silken green sheets, and glares accusingly at the thing sitting at the foot of his bed: a cat.

A cat.

Draco's anger dissolves into elation. "A cat!"

And it's a very cool-looking cat, too, with crimson-brown fur and luminous gold eyes. The creature cocks its head and watches Draco curiously, as if waiting for something.

Draco leans forward, reaching out with his arms in an attempt to pull his new pet into a hug. But the cat simply leaps nimbly off his bed and onto the fluffy carpeting.

Draco frowns, jumping off the too-tall bed and landing on all fours on the carpet. Once again, he tries to snatch the cat into his arms, but the creature simply slips out of his grasp.

Draco's eyes narrow. Again, he tries, and again, he misses.

The cat slowly slinks away from him, leaning back on its haunches. It's only then that Draco realizes his bedroom door is wide open.

He stiffens. If the cat gets out, and if his father sees it…

Almost as if the cat knows what he's thinking, it whirls around and darts out the door in a flourish of fluffy tail.

Draco shrieks and charges after it, still wearing his silk pyjamas. If Father saw him now, he'd be absolutely horrified that his son had left his bedroom before getting properly dressed.

As Draco turns down the corridor, sprinting for the staircase, he grins. There's a kind of thrill that comes with trying to conduct a secret chase around his house. It certainly beats feeling lonely, that's for sure.

Draco hops off the final stair, landing on marble floor and crashing directly into what feels to be a solid brick wall.

He tumbles to the ground, hitting his elbows on the tiles.

With a grimace, he hauls himself to his feet and cranes his neck upwards… only to meet the cool stare of his father, already dressed in an impeccable business suit.

And in his father's arms…

Draco flinches. Wriggling around in his grasp is the cat.

Draco just stares for a moment, unable to speak.

Finally, his father huffs a sigh. "Is this yours?"

Draco nods quickly. "I'm sorry," he whispers, his shoulders deflating. "I didn't think—I thought I would be able to control it, and—"

Lucius exhales, long and slow, before bending down so he and his son are eye-level.

The cat is still squirming, attempting to scratch at the fabric of Lucius's expensive suit.

"Look," Lucius says quietly, "I'm not angry with you."

Draco blinks. "You're not?"

Lucius just shakes his head slowly before gently depositing the cat into Draco's arms. The creature goes briefly still before hissing at the both of them.

"I know you think I'm too strict," Lucius continues, somewhat gruffly, "but I just want what's best for you. Okay?"

Draco just nods, stunned. "Okay."

And with that, his father straightens up and stalks off and out of sight.

Draco looks down in amazement at the cat in his hands.

"You're a magic cat," he decides. "You made Father be nice to me."

He smiles. For a moment, he had been truly terrified that his father was going to actually hurt the cat.

But he hadn't.

And maybe this means his father isn't a cruel person after all.

Draco grins in satisfaction.

He knew getting a pet would be a good thing.