the sweetest con [d.m]

three

"This is all of them?"

Nadia peers into the bag on the table as Mavi stirs the cauldron, watching for that characteristic purple colour of a Blood-Coagulation Draught.

She makes a sound of confirmation, waving her hand in front of her face to clear the fumes.

"I'll leave the money with Draco," Nadia says, stepping back gingerly. There's a black, sticky powder all over the table from where Mavi crushed the Horseleaves. "Merlin knows you'll lose it in here."

Again, Mavi makes a vague sound, narrowing her eyes at the cauldron.

Nadia sighs. "Aren't you coming to the New Year Gala tonight?"

"No." She sprinkles in some of the crushed Horseleaves as soon as the liquid glows purple. It immediately fades to a pale orange. "I don't think so."

"Draco didn't invite you?"

Mavi pauses. He hadn't even mentioned it to her so she'd assumed she wasn't invited. "I don't think so. It probably slipped his mind. He's a busy man."

"Hm." Nadia fixes her scarf, tucking a stray strand back in. "Where is he anyway?"

"Basement," Mavi replies, counting the eyeballs she drops in, crinkling her nose when it billows out more steam. "I've never been down there so I don't know what he's doing."

Nadia nods, slowly. "You know it used to be a dungeon?"

That gets Mavi to stop, looking up from the cauldron. "What?"

"A dungeon," she repeats, trailing well-manicured nails over the edge of the table, absent-mindedly. "Draco repurposed it after the war. After his parents moved out to France."

"I never hear much about them."

"You won't. He hates speaking about them — and I can't blame him. They're always on his back about something or the other, especially marriage. Now that Astoria's gone..." She swallows hard, looking down, and Mavi is reminded of the fact that they were all one big friend group. "They're probably hoping he'll marry again."

"And he doesn't want to?" Mavi inquires, softly.

Nadia shakes her head with a rueful smile. "He didn't even want to wed Astoria—but it turned out to be a good thing for him, I think."

She's being nosy now but she can't help it. "He wasn't—in love with her?"

Nadia shrugs, picking up the bag. "I don't know. It's hard to tell with Draco."

Mavi nods, her mind somewhere far off and Nadia bids her goodbye before slipping out, closing the door behind her.

She'd sat and watched that movie with Draco weeks ago. They hadn't spoken during the entire thing — had just chomped on their respective toasts, eyes glued to the screen.

When it had ended, Draco had shut off the television, taken her plate from her and disappeared into the kitchen. She'd taken that as a sign to leave and had retired to her bedroom.

Since then, he's barely been home. She suspects something at work is bothering him because he constantly has that crease between his brows. She never gets more than a nod of greeting when he passes her on the stairs, heading for the study.

But one day, he'd come home drenched in sweat. She'd been carrying cartons of ingredients when he'd passed her in the hallway, already unbuttoning his shirt.

It was just a second — so quick, she could've imagined it — but she could've sworn she saw ink underneath the collar of his shirt. On his right shoulder.