The doors to the Malfoy gardens swung open as Draco strolled in covered in sweat. He had decided to spend every evening flying, for he was determined, more than ever, to beat Potter to the snitch. So far his summer had been… well, interesting. With his father behind bars in Azkaban, the manor felt emptier and somehow lighter. He assumed the Dark Lord wasn't pleased and knew he'd have to atone for his father's failings. He desperately wanted to restore the Malfoy name to its former glory. Still, he was clueless as to how he would do that. The prophecy was gone and there was nothing Draco could do about that. Perhaps the Dark Lord would take the key to the Malfoy vaults as recompense—yes, vaults, plural. His mother must've been considering that development because though she held a strong front, Draco knew she spent most days anxious about the Dark Lord's return. The Malfoy's—destitute… Draco supposed that would be the worst-case scenario; substantial monetary loss.

Still, he thought, while smiling to himself, they had galleons to spare, and no one knew of the vault they held deep in the Swiss Alps. His mother needn't worry the way she was. Draco's heart warmed at the thought of her. She was always fussing and doting on him. He had begun to wonder whether she was trying to compensate for his father's absence. He frowned not liking the direction of his thoughts. He decided to shower and go out to Diagon Alley. He'd buy her, her favourite chocolates. Oh, who was he kidding? He'd probably have half the box himself. With that plan in mind, he entered the west wing of the manor and began walking the length of the corridor when Nix, the house-elf apparated in front of him.

"Master Malfoy," he bowed his head, "Nix has come to announce the arrival of Master Nott and Master Zabini. Nix has asked them to wait in the library like Missus Malfoy instructed." Draco's brow furrowed wondering whether he'd made plans with them and forgotten. His friends rarely ever came around without owling him first. Of course, he grimaced. They've come to check on poor Malfoy whose father is in prison. He was frowning again when he realized the daft elf was still standing there gawking at him.

"Go!" he snapped. Nix didn't need to be told twice, he disapparated back to the kitchens immediately. Turning, Draco made his way toward the library where his friends were waiting for him. When he entered the room, he found Theo had made himself at home laying down on the chaise lounge, and Blaise was by the fireplace helping himself to his father's whiskey.

"Draco!" Theo exclaimed a little too uncharacteristically.

"Mind getting your feet off my furniture, Nott?" Draco replied. "It's antique, you know." Theo chuckled good-naturedly and sat up. Draco nodded at Blaise as he took a large swig of his drink. "What are you two doing here?"

A smile tugged on Blaise's lips. "Oh, we've just come to see how our dear friend is doing."

"I'm fine," Draco clipped, returning Zabini's phoney smile with his own. "And you?"

"That's good. I just got back from my holiday home in Switzerland. Was dreadfully boring. There's barely a wizarding community over there."

"Sounds better than anything I've done this summer," remarked Theo.

Draco chuckled lowly making eye-contact with Blaise. The tall, dark boy raised his drink to his lips, smirking behind the rim of his glass. "That's not what I heard," he drawled.

Theo's eyes darted between the two Slytherins, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. He finally rested his gaze on Draco, waiting for him to come out with it. Sighing dramatically, he said, "We know all about the little witch you've been shagging."

Blaise fell into the armchair opposite him, wearing a wide grin while he swirled his drink. The boys watched as Theo's face twisted with irritation. "That vapid harpy!" he muttered. "She's as three-faced as a Cerberus and uglier than one too."

Draco scowled, he could hardly disagree with the bloke, but there was no need for name-calling. "You really trusted Pansy not to tell anyone that she saw you running around Rome with some bint?" he guffawed.

"Of course not! I was hoping she'd, I don't know, forget."

"Pansy has a memory like an elephant, she never forgets a bloody thing!" Draco exclaimed. His lips twisted up into a sly smile, "Certainly never let Potter forget about his fainting episode with the dementors, did she?"

All three boys sniggered.

"She still harps on about the time you forgot to buy her red roses instead of white ones for her thirteenth birthday," Theo laughed. "Or about the time you forgot to help her with that Potion's essay."

Draco rolled his eyes and snorted at the hilarity that is Pansy Parkinson.

"But..." Blaise hummed, his white teeth shining against his ebony skin in a set grin. "She seems to have forgotten all about the time she caught you staring at Mudblood Granger during the Yule Ball." The mirth in Draco's face all but vanished. He was seething inside as Zabini sat there with a smug look of triumph. Nott was shifting awkwardly on the chaise lounge seemingly to have found a great interest in the tassels of the bolster cushion.

Draco furrowed his brows deciding not to take the bait. "We all know how jealous and barmy Pansy can be," he replied nonchalantly.

"Jealous?" Blaise mused in a theatrical manner. "Certainly… but barmy?"

"She is rather pretty," Theo said innocently. Both Draco and Blaise's eyes snapped to his, giving him their undivided attention. They were frowning as though he'd announced he was in love with Snape. "For a Mudblood," he quickly added.

Draco scowled. When the bloody hell had Nott began to consider Hermione Granger as pretty? She was… insufferable. He appraised his friend for a moment and wondered how many times the bloke had examined Granger to come to this ridiculous conclusion. "She's filth," he deadpanned. "End of."

With that, the conversation took on an anti-climatic turn. Theo began to recount the highlights of his Italian summer. Most included the witch he was seeing. Even Blaise couldn't help but drill Nott for information on his sexual escapades. But the boy had made it clear that despite Pansy's exaggerations, he hadn't shagged her which meant that the three of them remained, disappointedly, virgins. To be honest, Draco found he rather missed this kind of normalcy. He imagined for a moment that in another life he'd be more concerned about getting shagged than making amends to the Dark Lord. He considered the lengths he'd have to go to, the clothes he'd have to buy her, the ridiculous requests he'd have to fulfill in order to convince Pansy to let him do anything below the waist. He wasn't sure if he really even wanted Pansy in that way. She was affectionate and caring, but he'd never given a second thought to what she looked like underneath her robes.

He drew his attention back to the present. It was safe to say that Theodore Nott wasn't an arse kind of bloke. He was still regaling them with stories of his Italian witch and her symmetrically perfect breasts. Draco bit the inside of his cheek wondering how many hours his friend had spent staring at the Mudblood's chest. In that instant, he caught Blaise looking curiously at him and when their eyes met the bastard smiled as though he was privy to some sort of secret. Draco quickly looked away.