Delicate sliver teaspoons clinked against cups, accompanied by the quiet murmur of a boiling pot of tea sitting ornately at the center of the table. A table which was a work of art, really. Covered in pastries and fine china, all sitting atop a silk tablecloth embroidered flowers. Rarely did the cutlery have more fun than its owners, and yet, today the flowers were blooming in silver and gold across the table, soaking up the remaining rays of sunlight still shining through the windows of the sitting room.

Along with sunlight, gossip filled the room. Talk about the latest Minister and his rudeness towards on ministry member or the other, who was seen with who and what extravagant party was being thrown when. They'd been at it for hours, the clock slowly inching forward along with the house elves, who'd grown used to topping off Draven's tea and slipping Regina the occasional sweet under the table. It was an easy distraction. Words flowed between the purebloods, polite smiles were exchanged.

"You're incredibly gracious hosts, Mrs and Mr. Miller," Draven smiled, taking a sip of his tea. "I must say Ms. Miller is a delight to be around. I haven't had the pleasure of sharing a class with her just yet, but I assure you, she's a sight to behold on the dueling grounds." He gave Regina a half smile across the table recalling as a certain prefect fell prone across a classroom floor. "You've raised a truly remarkable witch."

He hadn't been sure what to make of her owl when she'd called him over, especially at such short notice. But in all fairness, afternoon tea with the Millers was better than afternoon tea with the gargoyles at the manor.

It was routine at this point for Regina to pretend nothing was wrong or out of place in a home which felt too much like a gilded cage - sipping quietly on her cardamom tea, occasionally joining the conversation with a comment or two and trying very hard not to seethe at her older sister whenever a nasty cut-eye was thrown her way. It was an art that many Pureblood had already mastered at a young age, putting up a façade to mask their surface thoughts.

In hindsight, Regina hadn't expected Draven to actually accept the urgent invitation. Even though she'd like to think they'd grown a bit closer after sharing a detention together and bonding over a common enemy, the girl wasn't actually certain if he felt inclined to become more than just acquaintances. And yet, after just a few days of suffering the constant displease of her parents for her rebellious awakening, Regina had no other choice but to appease Alfred and Louise Miller by having Draven to pay a social visit. By showing that she'd managed to make such a beneficial connection with the Heir of another prestigious and influential Pureblood family, Regina was able to convince them she was worth something after all in their eyes. In truth, she just wanted to enjoy a peaceful summer after a turbulent school year.

"You are an incredibly charming guest yourself, Mr. Mirador," Louise Miller answered wittily, a pleasant smile plastered on her face as she lowered her teacup gracefully. "We were under the impression that our dear Regina was regrettably too socially reclusive to have any friends, and yet here you are enjoying delightful afternoon tea with us."

Because you forbade me from seeing the only friend I had as a child, and you disapprove of my other friend because she is a Muggleborn, Regina thought bitterly in the privacy of her mind. Though, the sour anger dissipated almost instantly when she caught the ghost of a smile Draven sent her way, accompanied with a genuine compliment of her duelling prowess. An unfamiliar warmth thawed through her usually cold heart as she gave him an appreciative glance and a small smile of her own.

The moment was ruined when none other than Rebecca Miller emitted a sarcastic snort.

"Remarkable, he says," The older female commented and was promptly silenced by a subtle elbow delivered by one of Regina's brothers. The girl in question fumed instantly, purple eyes swirling with poisonous vice. The Miller patriarch's warning glare directed toward both of his daughters was short-lived before he cleared his throat and looked at Draven almost apologetically.

"Please don't mind my third oldest, Mr. Mirador. It is nothing against you, rest assured. Thank you for your generous judgement of Regina."

Regina felt dread pooled around her stomach when neither of her parents spoke any words to correct what Rebecca had implied. It was just as she expected - they were only playing nice because she'd brought a Pureblood Heir to present in front of them. Nothing she did, not even attempting to participate in a deathly tournament, seemed to be enough for their pride. Granted, it might have had something to do with her not ending up as Champion in the end, but the point was still there.

All of a sudden, she wanted to be anywhere but here within the same room as the people who had controlled her since birth.

"That's far from true," Draven said pleasantly, picking up one of the tarts on the nearby platters and inspecting it somewhat suspiciously. After spending a year at Hogwarts, it was hard to eat food from strangers. Too often had innocent treats been spiked with love potions or pompion tincture. "She's simply particular about who she choses to spend her time with." He took a tentative bite from the tart, nodding his approval towards the house elf who'd brought it over, and sneaking a high five under the table when the hosts weren't looking.

"You know what they say," he mused, taking a sip of his tea. "You are the average of the five people you surround yourself with." Regina didn't surround herself with bad people, although having Draven as a choice of companion was rather questionable. He'd spent more time in detention in his first year at Hogwarts, than most people had spent throughout their entire academic career. Of course, the Millers didn't know about THAT.

It seemed he'd be spared any questions regarding his own reputation, however. Perhaps reputation didn't even matter, when your father controlled the press. Either way, The Wicked Witch of the West picked that exact moment to break the somewhat sticky silence which had settled over them. She was silenced, but not quick enough. Draven laughed. A soft, pleasant sound as he set the cup down, turning his attention towards Regina's sister.

"Speaking of Remarkable, Lady Rebecca." Draven studiously avoided looking at Regina, leaning forward and catching her sister's eyes. Purple met steely gray. "I was so very sorry to hear about your O.W.L.s... An E in charms, well...I could put you in contact with a wonderful tutor, if you so desire. Get that mark back up?"

He smiled, regarding the Millers. One word from him, and their entire house would vanish underneath the clamor of reporters and camera clicks. Inviting Draven in your house was like allowing a scorpion to crawl over your face in hopes it would help with your skincare routine. It only took one sudden move to end up keeling over. "No bother at all, Mr. Miller" Draven breezed, taking another elegant sip of his tea, back straight and eyes shining. "You've been most gracious."

"My father sends his regards. He was very sorry he wasn't able to attend, but with the new election coming up..." With the new election coming up, the Daily Prophet had their hands relaying the information about candidates as unbiasedly as possible. Meaning Abbadon also had his hands full, digging through the past of every single person in the running, and tearing apart the careful personas they'd built for themselves, laying the people who were to run the ministry bare for all to see.

It was a vicious spectacle, one that bystanders couldn't tear their eyes from, watching with a horrified sort of admiration as the people they'd thought to be kind and honest morphed before them. Abbadon Mirador was a politician's boggart, and that was the end of it.

Draven took a sip of tea.

If Regina hadn't been strictly trained to conceal her emotions, she would have made an incredibly un-ladylike scene of snorting into her tea at Draven's witty comeback toward her sister. She forced herself to gently deposit the cup on the delicate china saucer as one of the loitering house elves hurried over for a refill - and another discreet slip of sweets into her hand under the table.

"You little- I mean, that won't be necessary," A polite cough. Rebecca's glare, however, was as vicious as the Killing Curse itself. "It is but a...minor...mishap. I was merely feeling rather under the weather that day and it had regrettably affected my usual brilliance."

She was glad Draven was a Slytherin like her older siblings. He would have more access to potential leverage against Rebecca than Regina herself ever will. She idly wondered if he would ever be interested in helping her blackmail her wicked older sister.

"Pity, that. You always say you are the smarter sister, yet my average grade will always surpass yours no matter in sickness or in health."

Regina couldn't resist throwing in an off-handed remark of her own, lips barely lifting into a condescending smirk. Years of constant antagonisation and torment from Rebecca would never equal to one measly little insult, but it would still be a brief moment of respite either way.

"That's quite enough of that. Rebecca, we will be discussing your grades later," Louise Miller chastised with a warning glint in her eyes. Regina's amused expression returned to its usual blankness in an instant - a result of early childhood conditioning. "And Regina. You are in the presence of a guest. Curb your disparaging comments."

The youngest Heiress balled her hands into fists on her lap.

Even with her head slightly hung, Regina still perked up when Draven smoothly injected Abbadon Mirador's name into the conversation. She could see how her father had gone a bit tense at the mention of the famous personality who held the wizarding press in the palm of his hand, and was reminded instantly that he was intending to run in the upcoming election. Regina had even heard him discussing about the intricacies of his campaign at breakfast with her oldest brother Rupert who was destined to follow in the same footsteps as their patriarch.

Draven was delivering a subtle threat to her family. It was still a question or not if it was for Regina's sake, but strangely enough - it made her feel...safe.

"Oh, there is no trouble. I understand better than anyone how hectic things can get during this period," Alfred chuckled good-naturedly, but Regina could notice the slight tension in his jaw. She'd never seen her usually stoic father so intimidated before. Truly a sight to behold. "It's already an honour that you graced our manor with your presence as his son, it is."

"He's right," Rupert Miller, the older twin, nodded. "Besides, I'm glad that our baby sister finally has such a valuable friend. Merlin knows she's softened a lot since the beginning of the second semester. Was that when you two met?"

Regina's violet gaze met Draven's steel grey hues as the image of a hidden room on the seventh floor of Hogwarts appeared inside her mind. A piano, a quiet tension between two young Purebloods, a question that was the catalyst for her views to gradually change. They hadn't been on quite good terms then, because the Slytherin had seemed to harbor a sort of dislike for her in terms of music for a reason she had yet to discover. Still, she was glad they had grown since that stage.

"Something like that," She replied, giving Dray a meaningful look before sipping on her tea and taking a bite from a biscuit. "Mr. Mirador certainly left quite the impression."

"Oh, that's quite alright." Draven said pleasantly, setting his cup down and smiling in Mr. Miller's direction. "A little healthy rivalry between siblings never hurt anyone." It was a lie, one he saw reflected in the set of Regina's jaw and the tension of Becca's shoulders. But it was a necessary lie, if they would continue to have a pleasant day.

Deimos was resting underneath Draven's shirt, curled up across the boy's arm, the barest bump visible in the fabric of his suit. Every so often, the spider would stretch unnervingly, giving the faintest purr. Draven hadn't yet introduced him to the Millers, mostly because he didn't want broken teacups and people crawling atop chairs. For whatever reason, his friend had the tendency to unsettle most wizards. His dorm mates had learned to live with the spider's presence and the canopy of black webs that had covered Draven's side of the room. But Deimos got hungry looks from cats and owls, and terrified looks from wixes.

Two hours had passed since Draven had stepped foot in the Miller manor, and his back was starting to ache, from having stayed seated for so long. Tea parties, as pleasant as the company was, tended to take their toll on the antisocial. And, regrettably , Draven didn't posses the unsettling calm and poise that Abbadon was famous for.

"Speaking of the election," the Mirador said, producing a letter from the inside of his coat. "My father kindly asks that you join him for tea in a fortnight. I was told to give this to you personally, Mr. Miller." A quick flick of his wand and a whispered 'Wingardium Leviosa' under his breath sent the letter arching gracefully over the table, and settling down before the wizard.

It wasn't an invitation, in the sense that Mr. Miller would have been foolish to say no. Whether he had plans or not, he'd show up at the Mirador Manor with his best suit on, or risk his reputation crumbling in the span of time it took Abbadon to reach a typewriter and crack his fingers.

A flash of something undecipherable crossed Draven's eyes at the mention of their first meeting. He could still picture Regina, sitting at the grand piano. It wasn't a memory he cherished, nor one that he cared to revisit. He'd been a mess that night, tired and barely able to keep up with conversation, self loathing gnawing uncomfortably at the back of the boy's mind. The wizard Regina had met in the room of Requirement was vastly different from the put together, elegant man sitting at her table now.

Draven's hair had been styled elegantly, and his jewelry gleamed in the afternoon light, gray eyes highlighted beautifully by the steely gray suit and emerald tie. If it wasn't for the bronze of his skin, he might have looked like a painting. A portrait of a boy long gone, frozen in history. "Our first meeting was interesting at the very least," Draven said with a coy smile, stirring his tea.

It was such a show, in Regina's eyes, to watch all the colours drained from her father's face - the ever regal, impassive Ministry politican Alfred Miller, intimidated by a single letter sent by the one who could end his entire twenty years of career with a single headline on the Daily Prophet. Her respect for Draven had increased tenfold in just a span of five seconds.

"Thank you for this...generous invitation. Your father will certainly be expecting my presence in due time," The man said with a set jaw, his eyes having lost the usual polite deference reserved for guests.

Orchid eyes were fixated on her Slytherin companion's face as he leisurely stirred his tea. There was something hidden behind his off-handed comment, a practiced smile that suggested nothing genuine - at least in regards to the topic of what had transcribed the day they first met. Regina had seen her fair share of polite smiles during countless social events, but right now, she'd rather not overthink about it. Just because the concept of emotions were foreign to her did not mean she was clueless to other people's feelings. Something told her she'd ought to never mention that day in front of him again, and it was best to change the course of the conversation.

Fortunately, her second older brother Harold had beaten her to it.

"Well, in any case, I'm glad you can overlook her prickliness enough to be her friend. From the looks of it, I think you two work great together as a pair. Breaking the House rivalry stereotype, and all that."

Regina opened her mouth to interject, but the sudden outburst from her sister shook the entire table as Rebecca slammed her hands down the wooden surface and stood up with a vicious snarl. Orchid purple met stormy blue as the two girls glared each other down, signaling only seconds before disaster.

"I cannot believe you're all acting so hospitable to this two-faced git!" The older female shouted, addressing the Miller twins then pointing an accusing finger at both Regina and Draven. "Everybody in Slytherin knows the dodgy Mirador brat with a notorious penchant for rule-breaking! She's hanging around him to act out of line and smear our family's name! Regina was branded as a rebel during the last two months of school, she was, attacking a Prefect during detention!"

The Lioness in question felt her heart drop to her stomach when Rebecca Accio'd a folded piece of parchment from another room - the very same incriminating letter Regina had to write during that blasted detention with Decipio. Her already porcelain skin went ghostly white as her head snapped toward where her parents had gone silent with shock written all over their faces as the paper was levitated to them. Regina could feel her heartbeat thumping wildly and blood rushing to her ears, and the world crumbled around her as the ground seemed to gave out underneath her feet.

"Regina, is this true?" Louise asked, horrified. "What in Merlin's name have you been up to in Hogwarts, young lady?!"

"Mother, I-"

"Completely DISGRACEFUL!" Alfred boomed, his deep baritone voice making the young witch flinch as she paled even further. "I raised you to carry out our ancestors' legacy as a distinguished Pureblood Heir of the House of Miller, and yet you go and get yourself branded as a rebel?! After all the teachings you've learnt since you were born! How much more of a disappointment are you going to be, Regina?!"

A disappointment. A disgrace. The two words echoed harrowingly inside the raven-haired witch's mind. Combined with the hateful eyes of a sister who'd tormented her since they were little, apprehension from two brothers who were always too afraid to step in and protect her from their patriarch's ire, the mortified look from a demanding mother and the enraged glare of an unloving father...

It was all too much. Her lungs grew tight, her breathing grew rapid, and Regina snapped.

"I will ALWAYS be a disappointment to you!" It was strange - why did her words came out so chocked? What was this dark, painful feeling crawling inside her chest? "Nothing I ever do will be good enough for any of you! Not even casting my name in a deathly tournament where I could have DIED. But it is of no matter anymore, because I am not Hogwarts' Champion, and it would not have made much difference to you, would it?"

This was reality. Regina had just been too desperate to believe otherwise - that she could prove her worth and earn their love if she'd just try hard enough. But it would never be enough, because there were no expectations in the first place. And she didn't know which hurt more, the fact that it was destined to be like this from the start, or all of her efforts would have been for naught in the end.

"If you hate me so much," A withering glare at the fuming face of her father. "You might as well burn my name from the family tapestry and be done with it!"

The chair screeched loudly, harshly, against the pristine marble floor. The house elves all jumped back when the youngest Lady stormed out of the sitting room, nails biting into her palms as her hands curled into tight fists. Her eyes felt oddly misty, but it didn't stop her from heading toward the East Wing where her quarters laid.