A/N: Here it is, my very first fic, which is Dramione to the very heart! Before you start reading, I want to express my thanks to two special ladys out there: Slyrtherinvillain7, who told me to start utilizing my holidays and start writing and utterly deserves that someone reviews her work. And, first and foremost, my brilliant, kind and encouraging beta MrBenzedrine, who keeps me up my toes, cracks me up, and teaches me so much about the English language (Yay!) my former English teacher would turn green and cry over. She took her wand, swished and flicked it and transfigured my little plot bunny into a shiny, impressive unicorn, named it Sex Ed and created a new species with it! That is why I start with a simple levitation here.

Disclaimer: All the recognizable characters and places belong to J.K. Rowling and I'm making no profit with this.

"Draco, dear?"

Narcissa Malfoy enjoyed Sunday brunches with her family, even when there were, sadly, just three seats occupied. And, judging from her husband's and son's faces, she was the only one who adored those weekly come-togethers. If you asked said son, Draco Malfoy, he would probably say he'd rather face that crazy hippogriff again instead of going through the weekly interrogations by his mother. Or 'brunches', as she disguised them. Lucius, on the other side, dreaded the brunches, because, unlike in those discussions with his wife where they contemplated the Malfoy business rationally, he couldn't get the upper hand when it came to social gossip amongst the elite in the wizarding world of Britain.

Not that he was interested in it… much.

"Draco!" Narcissa asked- no, demanded, again. Draco resigned and looked up from his delicious French croissant to his meddling mother. 'Here we go again…' he thought.

"You know, I met Philomena Greengrass today. She was really looking wonderfully, but can you presume what she told me?"

"No, mother, I can't," he drawled sarcastically. "Care to enlighten me?"

His mother's face lightened up at this. "Of course, darling. The Greengrasses daughter -not Daphne- she has recently been married to Theodore Nott, it was a splendid wedding in March; your father and I were invited. The singing doves at the ceiling were a bit over the top, but otherwise… Oh, Blaise was there, too, don't know if he told you- you were in Iceland at the time- along with his fiancé, this strange Lovegood girl…"

Judging by the ever so slightly twitch in his left knee (Quidditch accident when he attempted to ride a broom at the age of six), Draco was close to losing his patience. Lucius counted the seconds before his son would lose it, all the while enjoying that he wasn't his wife's victim for once this week.

"…and Daphne, she looked a bit pudgy in that empire dress of hers, bit round at the middle- I suspect she's expecting. Probably that's the reason why the wedding was a bit rushed, but, on the other side, she always had a bit of a habit with eating sweets, as I remember from when the Greengrasses visited when you were little. Remember when…"

"Mother!" Draco shouted. No, he didn't shout, because Malfoys don't shout, they caught attention with necessary force, if all.

'Half an hour after arriving. Not bad, my son. Must be a record this month.' Lucius chuckled inwardly.

"Please, get to your point, Mother," Draco said, more controlled but still a little unbalanced.

"Oh, naturally. Well, Astoria is back!" she stated, her bright eyes expectant. After looking into her son's irritated face, she continued, "Astoria, Daphne`s little sister. She's 25 now and recently moved back to England after she worked for the French Wizarding Bank for some years. She is a well-educated young woman, you see, quite pretty and talented in finances." There was still no dawning on Draco's face.
Lucius counted, 'Three, two one…' And, finally, some recognition flickered in Draco's piercing grey eyes, and his eyebrows raised. 'Ah, there it is.'

"No, mother!"

"Oh, please, Draco! Just one more time."

"No, mother, I won't be set up by you again! I won't go on a date with her! I won't make her the next Mrs. Malfoy!" Draco was horrified -his mother wanted to set him up! Again! She should have had enough after the last disastrous time in which he had given in, which ended up with an awkward dinner with Millicent Bulstrode, who drooled half the time at the prospect of tying the Malfoy heir down. Literally.

"My son..." Lucius intervened.

'Great, now it's two against one. Very Slytherin.' Draco scowled.

"Perhaps you should take it into consideration to settle down. You're nearing thirty and I think you had enough time to… repel your horns, so to speak."

And that Draco had done indeed. Power, Money, good looks and a restored reputation after the war – albeit not enough restored to kill his irresistible Bad-Boy-image - he had it all. So, naturally it was quite common for him to take many different witches to his bedroom. Or the expansive living room of his penthouse. Or the next deserted corner behind a posh club.

"I'm hardly old, father." Draco frowned.

"No, you aren't. But when I was your age, I was already leading the Malfoy Empire successfully, had a beautiful wife and son soon to be born, and contacts to all the important people in our world." He glanced over to his wife, still very much in love with her; even more so after all the misgivings they overcame.

"Yes, and you had a cool tattoo on your arm as an entrance card for an exclusive group who liked to play dress up, led by a reptile with a split personality," Draco continued his father's praise of himself.

"Draco, that was bad form!" Narcissa admonished him. "We don't even pressure you to carry on the Malfoy dynasty by marrying one daughter of the Sacred Twenty-Eight."

"That is because they all already are somewhere in our ancestry; multiple times. The whole family tree is just a few inches away from turning into a circle," the young man deadpanned. His mother, however, decided to ignore that remark and continued.

"We've grown very tolerant after that… skirmish that ended in that horrible battle. Any pureblood girl with a decent upbringing should do." Draco clenched his jaw, because his mother's voice told him that she was heading to the end of their conversation, and he wouldn't like it. Lucius could very nearly hear the metaphorical trap falling shut. "Nonetheless, we shouldn't let this grand opportunity pass, and this is why I invited Astoria to participate at our Charity Event in favour of the Hogwarts muggle-born scholarship next week by your side. I expect you to play nice with her."

Draco's shoulders sunk. He had repressed this important piece of work for the restoring of his family's reputation purposefully. He simply could not stay away from it, not only because it was hosted at his childhood home, but because all the important people came together there, him included (as his father seemed to forget, as the Deputy Head of the Department of International Cooperation, he had earned himself a powerful position in the ministry).

"As if I had a choice."

"But don't play too nice, my son. We wouldn't want the new Malfoy heir to be conceived out of wedlock. Therefore, avoid all the cozy alcoves and niches our Manor has, yes?" Lucius zoomed out at that thought, seemingly reminiscing.

"It will be be an exquisite evening!" exclaimed Narcissa. "By the way, I even got the Potter-boy and his wife to accept." She smiled proudly and ended the topic by switching to something else Draco paid no attention to.

'Great, absolutely bloody fantastic. Another brainless woman that can't uphold an intelligent conversation by my side and Scarhead as a cherry on top, probably with the Weasel and the bookworm in a package. That is going to be a very long night.'