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my_thestralWord count: 7217, this part
Pairing: Ron/Draco, some mention of past Ron/Harry
Rating: R (not this part so much, but I'm done bothering about it)
Disclaimer: All hail Madame Rowling, she's the one who gave the world all these wonderful characters - and then dorks like me come along and maim them happily. Well, at least no one can accuse me of making any money... that would be like... preposterous! ;)
“Impossible!!!”
The elegant fist of the Master of Malfoy Manor came crushing down the fragile coffee table with all its might, destroying the hand-made piece of art on the spot and leaving no doubt about the brutal strength the tailor-made clothes hid.
Narcissa Malfoy was not a woman to flinch lightly, but this time she positively jumped. This… was highly unorthodox behaviour for a man that was groomed to be at his best in the most impossible situations. That’s what got them through what Narcissa still thought of as “occupation” of their home by that dangerous deranged half-blood lunatic, that abominable Voldemort person, Lucius had so carelessly – and foolishly! – welcomed into their home. She still couldn’t quite forgive him for that transgression. She doubted she ever could. It endangered everything Narcissa couldn’t imagine living without and it had nothing to do with the cold walls of the beautiful Manor. It was the childhood home to her beloved son and that – half-person defiled it to a point that Draco refused to ever again come to live with them inside those walls. Instead he got himself a job. Narcissa still sighed when she thought of that embarrassment.
And now her beautiful strong husband, who kept most of his composure through the blood and gore taking place in this very parlour they took their breakfast in - that very man was behaving like a common brute. She couldn’t possibly have that.
“Lucius, darling, do mind my family heritage, if you please; as you are well aware - this table was a wedding present from my mother, I couldn’t bear it, if anything was to happen to it.” With these words she flicked her wand hand and for the moment it looked as if the shattered remains of the table liquefied until they assembled themselves back together and there was no sign of abuse left. Narcissa Malfoy could have written any book on household charms sold in England. Not that she would ever bother to. In her opinion knowledge should be for the privileged, the masses just abused and corrupted what was beautiful clean magic.
“There you go, that’s settled,” she spoke with composure and looked at her husband with cool reprimand, though not entirely unkindly. “Now, would you kindly care to explain why on Merlin’s lovely earth did you ever attempt to make me spill my morning tea? What could possibly be so grave, my love?”
“See for yourself,” he seethed through gritted teeth and pushed the morning issue of The Daily Prophet, still warm from the print, across the table. Narcissa could barely withhold herself from rolling her eyes up in disapproval of such uncivilized behaviour, but took the offered newspaper anyway and unfolded it.
And blinked. And stared. And stared some more. But the picture just never got any different. It was as her husband put it – impossible. The elegant blond young man looking provokingly at the camera before launching himself at the tall redheaded man could NOT be her beautiful precious son. It could NOT be him sinking his fingers in the undoubtedly very Weasley hair, snogging an evidently happy man stupid. This… was impossible. This was some impostor. Someone this filthy excuse for a newspaper paid to pose as her son, dragging their family name through the mud, just because of the stupid choices Lucius had made nearly a decade ago. This… was unacceptable. Something needed to be done about this fraud promptly!
“I’m afraid it’s true,” spoke an unknown voice across the room and Narcissa had her wand pointed at it before she realized what she was doing.
“Me is so sorry, Madame Malfoy… Sir… Harry Potter, Sir, just broke in here, not wanting to stop when Wheezy asked to announce him,” squealed a tiny House-elf who had apparently finally managed to catch up with the visitor and was, as result, completely out of breath. “Wheezy is sorry, Madame, Sir… But he is Harry Potter, the wards is open to him….”
“That will be all, Wheezy, we shall talk about the negligence of your duties after our distinguished guest is gone,” spoke Lucius Malfoy coldly, finally taking control of the situation. Of course he knew that the House-elf was not too blame – for a man with a past as shady as his, he could count his lucky stars to be able to continue to call the Malfoy Manor his residence and of course, the wards were always dutifully open to the Head Auror, the Saviour himself. It just infuriated him to no end that it had to be so.
“Thank you, Wheezy, I’m sure your master is grateful for showing me the way and of course he wouldn’t dream of punishing you afterwards, it is, after all, against the law,” the raven-haired youth stressed without flinching and Lucius could do nothing but grit his teeth in acquiescence some more and dismiss the miserable little creature with an imperious wave of his hand.
“Do lower your wand, Narcissa, darling. I’m sure you recognise the visitor, after all we have all had the pleasure of meeting the famous Mr. Potter before,” Lucius continued coldly and only then Narcissa became aware she was still pointing her wand at the prominent visitor. She lowered it hastily and smiled as beatifically as the circumstances allowed.
“Forgive me, Mr. Potter, I am not usually so inhospitable towards our visitors. I was just slightly… thrown off balance, shall we say, by the shocking lies this abominable publication decided to publish,” she motioned to the newspaper, still open on the front page, with the impostor of her son as determined as ever to show his affection towards one member or the other of the infamous Weasley mob. Her gesture was a silent plea for him to elaborate on his reason for visiting as it obviously had something to do with the horrible piece of false news soiling her table.
The young man had clearly not yet seen the newspaper with his own eyes as he instantly paled to the point of turning grey at the sight of the graphic picture and his shoulders seemed to have sunk a little – but just for a moment. With determination that was built into his very core, Harry Potter straightened himself up and turned away from the insulting publication lest he set it a-fire without his wand.
“I’m afraid it is true,” he repeated dryly, clearly working on keeping his composure. “Had you bothered to read the article, you would have found out that there was… an incident at the Silver Spoon restaurant last night. For once, every word in there is very likely to be true, as improbable as that sounds. Your son… he invited my… he invited Ron Weasley to dinner to the said restaurant last night and though it was deemed to be a business dinner, it soon became obvious that your son had other plans. He had, after all, transferred to on-the-field duty as soon as Ron did and I must say I found it highly suspicious when I found out he was paired off to him – I assure you, no sane Ministry official would ever put a Weasley and a Malfoy on the same team, it would simply be asking for trouble and probably as dysfunctional as it gets.
Either way, when I found out there was to be dinner, I decided to follow them there, to at least try and talk some sense into Ron before it was too late, before your son – and doubt not, it was all his doing, I was there! – made them both look like fools. When I arrived there, I confronted your son about his… choices – I admit, try as I might, I could find no reason why Draco would ever want to spend any time outside of the working obligation with my… with Ron. The whole thing just sounded insane. But your son assured me that he knew very well what he was doing and that – according to himself, though I’m not sure I trust his explanation – he had developed certain… feelings for Ron over the years.”
Pausing at these words Harry looked at them intently, to see if it sparked any kind of memory, response, anything that would suggest Draco had shared his alleged feelings for Ron with his parents. But when Lucius’s face just remained blank, though going even a shade paler than his already ashen-white colour, making the older man look shocked out of his wits, Harry couldn’t miss the tiniest twitch of hands of the haughty Madame Malfoy. So there was something…
This thought made him even more bitter and determined to ensure their cooperation. He looked at the lady of the house pointedly, in case she wanted to come forward with any information that might prove valuable to them in handling the delicate situation, but she merely stared him down with her cold eyes, clearly unwilling to share any of the private family dealings with an outsider. Good then, he thought defiantly, soon you will have your dirty laundry all over the wizarding press and try shrugging that off, Madame Ice Queen!
But he contained his resentment and continued:
“That was not all your son said: he openly admitted to bribing certain Ministry officials to get to Ron and I assure you – that is a serious offence. It implies corruption and disregard for authority and it will be investigated most thoroughly.”
He could just see the expression in old Lucius’s eyes shift from shock to anger – the words “Foolish, foolish boy!” might as well have been written all over his sunken face.
“But, as it is obvious from the Prophet here, my words of reason were lost on your son. I admit it didn’t help that I had a tiny private… disagreement - call it a quarrel, I suppose - with Ron beforehand regarding his change of position at work, and he wouldn’t listen to reason either. I doubt he realized the circumstances would deteriorate so quickly. Ron… as you know, he’s a Weasley. He’s got temper, a terrible one, actually. He doesn’t cope very well with being told what to do and I’m afraid he took my words of reason – I told him your son couldn’t possibly love him, that was just ridiculous! - as some sort of a foolish challenge and in front of my very eyes he turned to your son and said: Kiss me.
You won’t find this in a newspaper, I’m certain of it, I was the only one standing close enough to be able to hear what he said and as sure as I am that Ron only said it as some sort of a stupid childish dare – he gets like that sometimes – I assure you, your son took him as seriously as one could. He positively launched himself at my… at Ron, in front of everybody, the whole damn restaurant was staring in disbelief, me and my wife included, when your son proceeded to kiss my best mate with what appeared to be great eagerness.”
This time Narcissa Malfoy couldn’t stop her hand from jumping at her mouth, desperately aimed at silencing an audible expression of shock and despair.
Sweet Merlin, Draco, what have you done, she thought to herself miserably. And what have I done, she reprimanded herself. Thinking back, she clearly remembered a summer when Draco just wouldn’t shut up about that “blasted Weasley” boy, bringing him up in every conversation, over and over again, until she felt compelled to mention it “inappropriate” at some point. She couldn’t remember ever hearing anything about the Weasley boy from him again after that, but she should have known better than to think this obsession will pass without consequences. Draco was part Black – when he was passionate about something, he was downright obsessive and this obsession, when he could no longer discuss it with anyone, must have festered inside him and this – was the sad result. She could have slapped herself at that moment. How could she have ever forced him to deal with feelings like that alone?
She had always hoped that once Draco fell for someone, she would be privy to his most private thoughts and feelings in regard of that person – it’s just that this person never came along and his eventual marriage was practically a business deal between two very influential, very old pureblood houses. But she was finding out now that those feelings had come, just a bit earlier than she would have expected them to - and pointed at a very unlikely person, if there was any excuse to be sought – and she had just let them slide by and let her poor secretly passionate son deal with them unguided, with no counsel, with no one to talk to. Small wonder this turned out to be such a mess!
Poor child, what he must have gone through when he realized he was dealing with this… undesirable affection! If only she had paid him more attention and she took notice of his inner-dealings and became properly alarmed when, over the years, there simply wasn’t anyone that spiked her son’s interest – this could have turned out entirely differently. If only she had talked to him about it, rather than shut him up, she was certain she could have re-directed his interest to a more… suitable choice of a love-interest. But it was what it was now and Narcissa Malfoy was not a person to dwell on the spilled milk. This disastrous unwelcome situation had to be resolved quickly and with as little damage to everyone involved. Seeing that for once Lucius was not up to the job as the old pureblood was on a verge of exploding in his aristocratic confines, she elegantly took over and spoke directly to the young man she still somewhat despised but learned how to deal with cautiously over the years.
“I thank you very much Mr. Potter in my own name as well as in the name of my husband for this detailed and no doubt precise information. As you are known to be a reliable source, I do not doubt a word that came out of your mouth and I thank you again for the damage control you tried, albeit unsuccessfully, to implement in the past few hours over this absurd situation. However, I’m sure you will understand I still have some questions for you, yes?”
Harry nodded sternly, not fooled by her graciousness – he knew if there was any way to avoid involving him, Narcissa Malfoy would have taken it, but as she didn’t have much choice, she adapted to the situation like the good Slytherin she was.
“Ask away,” he said simply and braced himself for the inevitable.
“First of all, I would like to know if you are aware of my son’s present location. It is imperative that we talk to Draco as soon as possible, see what can be done to reverse the damage as much as one can. As his parents, I trust we still have some influence over him, even though he’s proven quite obstinate in taking some of the… less favourable decisions alone in the last few years,” she raised her eyebrows to express silent reprimand of her son’s choices.
Harry frowned for a moment, cast a quick Tempus and replied calmly: “Actually, I think they might be at work. I guess that’s where they were headed when this picture was taken, Ron would never have gotten up this early on his day off work. And I don’t think he would consider taking time off only one day into his new work-assignment, he is extremely thorough when it comes to his work. I trust Draco is with him as they were paired off. Though I wouldn’t worry too much about them spending much more time together at work if I were you, I took the liberty to make certain… arrangements before I came here,” Harry smiled slightly and somehow that confident smile made Narcissa uncomfortable.
As always, that boy - well, he was a young man now, wasn’t he? –just radiated determination and self-assuredness and somehow her motherly heart got squeezed in the thought that he made sure her Draco was miserable right now. She hated him a little bit for that. She also recognised it needed to be done. Whatever he had said or done at that dreadful place Draco referred to as “work” that made sure her son would no longer be welcome there, would score as a victory in her books. She didn’t have to like Potter to approve of his actions. Now, for his motives…
“Now, Mr. Potter, I’m sure whatever you’ve done, it needed to be taken care of and as always, I’m sure you’ve done a brilliant job of it. However – to my next question: as little as I doubt your good intentions I can’t help to be curious about what brings you here in the first place? What motive could you possibly have for being kind enough to inform us of this… unfortunate turn of events in person as well as to continue helping us resolve the embarrassing situation?”
She looked him straight in the face with these words, dead-set on finding out the truth, though she had little hope of being able to perform legilimency on the cautious young prodigy.
But she shouldn’t have bothered. He looked straight in the eye. He knew this question was coming and it had taken him a while to decide he wouldn't lie to her. She was an exceptionally astute woman with very sharp instincts when it came to her son and if he got tangled in lies and half-truths in front of her, he would have instantly lost her trust and any insight into the measures they intended to take to bring Draco to his senses and, possibly, as far away from Ron as possible. Besides, she had once already proved she had a heart when it came to love, even if it was love for her son. He couldn’t have talked about love to the ice-brick that was Lucius Malfoy, but to Narcissa Malfoy Black, a cousin to his dear sorely-missed godfather Sirius Black – the thought of love perhaps wasn’t so foreign a concept as she liked to pretend.
“I’m in love with him,” he said simply and upon hearing a sharp intake of air, he was vividly reminded of the last night’s calamity of talking to Rita Skeeter, thus he elaborated quickly: “I’m in love with Ron. And I want your son out of his life. I don’t care if I can’t ever have him to myself, I’m used to it by now, but Ron and Draco – they’re no good for each other. They hate each other, for Merlin’s sake; they can’t be together, they can’t be!”
“Damn right you are, young man!” growled the master of the house loudly, finally finding his voice. In the face of his son hitting it off with a Weasley – a Weasley! – the old-school aristocrat felt as if the very world around him was crumbling. How could that fool of a boy have gone and done such a blasphemous idiocy!? What was he – mad or hexed?! There could be no other explanation! To throw away a bright future a carefree wealthy respected (well… under the circumstances) young man could enjoy for the sake of anyone, let alone a man AND a Weasley, the world’s greatest abomination in the sense of a family – that was unthinkable for the man of Lucius’s upbringing.
And did he have no sense of family honour?! He was married, for Merlin’s sake, how could he not respect that!? Lucius himself had made damn sure Draco got there after certain rumours of his son’s nightly escapades came to his attention and he became alarmed that they might be deemed truthful in the light of his single status. So he went and made an excellent deal with another proper pure-blood family and though Draco never properly thanked him for it, he seemed to be resigned to his destiny of becoming a family man. A family man! With a wife and a child! Family and family’s good name was sacred above anything, Lucius had tried to drill the importance of it into that stubborn boy since he was a wee child, hadn't he?! So how come it had all come to nothing because of Arthur Weasley’s son?!
Arthur Weasley, the bane of Lucius' existence. A pureblood who acted anything but; a dirt-poor man obsessed with Muggle artefacts; a half-mad inventor already at school (just like his equally mad twin sons!) who once upon a time, in spite of his oddness somehow managed to get the attention of the prettiest witch in the entire school, a pureblood redheaded beauty with curves in all the right places by the name of Molly Prewett. And of course a hormone-crazed and barely adolescent Lucius was among the armies of other young boys, who couldn’t help but day-dream about the lovely Head Girl even though she was older and it was not very likely she would ever give him the time of day.
But being a true Malfoy already back then – self-confident to the point of arrogant – he eventually mustered enough courage to talk to the girl that invaded his dreams, but she merely looked at him with those soft brown eyes and said not unkindly:
“You’re awfully cute, young Malfoy, but why don’t you try a bit more civility, I wonder? All this “I’m better than the rest” talk won’t get you very far in life, you know, and it is certainly not very endearing!”
She had knocked the breath out of him with these words, but she was so pretty up close, his clouded mind had trouble finding the right words to respond. But then the wiry form of Arthur Weasley sneaked up behind her as the redhead wrapped his arms around her waist – and this was when young Lucius’s feelings really turned to murder. Molly had smiled blissfully at the lanky Prefect with singed off eye-brow and black splotches on his cheeks –undoubtedly from one mad invention gone wrong or another - and she had forgotten entirely about having been involved a conversation with the younger boy as she proceeded to snog her heart-throb stupid. And Lucius had just stood there, feeling small, insignificant and forgotten, until he was angry enough to evaporate Arthur Weasley out of his shoes!
And then the redheaded seventh-year looked at him with amusement in those crystal blue eyes and said to the beautiful girl in his arms in a matter-of-fact voice: “What did the little boy want from my future wife, Molly?”
And that was the first time Lucius Malfoy ever heard blood roar in his ears. He was livid! How dare he?! He was almost 14, from the oldest, richest pureblood family in England and that good-for-nothing clinically-insane maggot had just called him “a little boy” in front of the girl he fancied! If it wasn’t for that idiot of a Dumbledore that just happened to stroll by, breaking the happy couple apart and accidentally positioning himself between Lucius and his prey – there would have been an Unforgivable cast at Hogwarts that morning and be what it may!
Molly was soon forgotten when she left school and Narcissa Black, a graceful Slytherin with just the right pedigree, grew into her female form, but Lucius never forgot the feeling of acute putrid hatred he felt for Arthur Weasley, who somehow cancelled everything Lucius was brought up to believe in, just by existing. And now his son, his son of all people, his blasted Mudblood-married son, made his precious Draco publicly humiliate himself. And by a public intimacy, of all things! Draco must have been hexed to have complied, there was no other explanation, there couldn’t be! Where did it all go so wrong? He’s given the boy the best upbringing the money could buy, it must have been that blasted school where he picked up those disgusting habits, something like that would never have happened if Narcissa hadn't opposed going to Durmstrang so violently!
Now he urgently had to resolve this mess. This was unacceptable. As much as he found Potter’s admittance of affection for the Weasley boy disgusting in its own right, he couldn’t help but being grateful for the powerful young man for bringing his business directly to him. With his knowledge of the Weasley monster and his own familiarity with Draco’s weaknesses they could contain this disaster much more efficiently. Finding solace in this thought, he finally took conversation into his own hands:
“Now, Mr. Potter, while it is clear we all agree that this abominable liaison cannot continue, would you please care to elaborate what you, on your part, intend to do to end this… embarrassment as soon as possible? I can’t imagine why would you even be here if you didn’t require our cooperation on certain parts of your plan.”
“There are several things I have already done,” Harry explained matter-of-factly. “I’ve informed the officials at the Ministry of your son’s serious offences regarding our work ethics and I’m confident that my conversation with Chief Kingsley will at least get him suspended if not more permanently removed from the office.” He couldn’t help noticing a tiny smirk of satisfaction turning the sides of Lucius’s mouth upwards – the older man would without a doubt be ecstatic to see his son’s attempt at employment come to an end – but Narcissa Malfoy just gave a him a very dark look and pressed her lips closer together as if she was not entirely happy to have her son made miserable. She… could be trouble, Harry decided, but could do nothing about it rather than hope that Lucius’s determination to hate the Weasleys would eventually prevail.
“Unfortunately I didn’t get to speak to... Ron’s wife yet as she was… unavailable,” Harry frowned a little at those words – as early as he got up, Hermione was already at her office and her wards were closed to everyone – that girl worked way too much ever since Ron had left! “But I’m sure my wife would have informed Ron’s family by now and if I know anything of his parents, this relationship will go down less than favourably.”
Harry couldn’t quite suppress a tiny smile in thought of what Ron was up against when his fiery mother blew her massive temper his direction and for once, his father would gladly join in. He would be lucky if they didn’t decide to package a hex or two into the Howlers he was about to get!
“And moreover – when I was at the office I took the precautionary measure of casting a tracking charm at the entrance, focused on Ron – as I am not familiar with your son’s magical signature enough to cast it to track him - so as soon as he arrives at work we will be able to pinpoint his exact location at any time during the day, should we want to intervene. And knowing where Ron is should be enough, really; I’m rather certain that your son will stay pretty close to him today – I took every precaution to make him feel as if their… relationship was endangered,” Harry smiled a small tense smile and saw it mirrored on the old aristocrat’s face.
“I’m afraid that’s all I can do for now,” he added curtly. “Ron is too important to me to actually go after him with my magic – I suppose I could force him to leave Draco that way, but this type of magic is extremely dangerous, never without consequences and unfortunately not as permanent as one would like to think. On my part, I can’t and I won’t meddle with memory charms and such rot – but if you consider involvement of magic… unavoidable on your part when it comes to your son, I won’t stand in your way,” he shrugged, making it perfectly clear that he didn’t give two fucks what they did to Draco, as long as they left Ron alone and this whole farce of a relationship came to a quick and ill-fated end.
“Well, I must say you were wonderfully thorough, Mr. Potter.” It was Narcissa Malfoy who spoke this time and her voice was so perfectly trained to be polite and emotionless he could not tell for the love of god what she was thinking. He had a passing thought that this woman and her mastery of behavioural disguises would be priceless for a spy, but they would never know, would they? –so right now it was irrelevant. “Now as much as it pains me to part our ways I would most kindly like to ask you to grant my husband and I some private time together to discuss this unfortunate situation and come up with a plan of necessary actions, hopefully as effective as yours,” she looked him straight in the eye and made no mystery of her effectively throwing him out.
He nodded and got up, seeing that his presence was no longer necessary, but was immensely surprised when Lucius Malfoy extended his arm in a greeting and shook his hand. Nothing else could testify better in what shock and distress this news had put him and when he spoke, for once, his voice was not unkind.
“I assure you, Mr. Potter, we’re immensely grateful for your invaluable assistance and willingness to cooperate with us on resolving this dreadful matter. Of course, we will keep you duly informed on the course of our actions as we might require further information and involvement from you – I trust we can contact you when the time occurs, yes?”
Harry felt the strong cold hand grip his fingers with such strength there could be no doubt of this man’s remaining power and determination, but paired with a cold look from those haughty grey eyes it felt so much like a vice of an especially vicious snake, that he couldn’t remove his hand fast enough. For the first time he felt a surge of doubt if he was right in trying to make the Malfoys his allies, but it was too late to have those thoughts now and he merely nodded to Madame Malfoy courtly and left as fast as he could. On his way back he was accompanied by the same house-elf that brought him in and a funny thought occurred; one, he was harbouring ever since he heard the house elf’s name.
“Who was your father, Wheezy?” he asked the tiny creature, dressed in spotless clothes as was the regulations these days. In spite of his kind tone he didn’t get his reply directly – it seemed that his intrusion that would – rules or no rules – undoubtedly get the poor house elf in trouble with his Master, didn’t exactly inspire trust in the poor thing.
“Why is Master Potter asking about poor Wheezy’s old pa?” finally asked the house-elf, sounding insecure and suspicious, as if he wasn’t entirely sure where those questions were headed.
“Oh, I merely think I might have known him… was his name Dobby perhaps?”
The house-elf’s eyes, already as big as saucers, almost popped out of his head as he stared at the famous wizard with awe in his eyes:
“Did Harry Potter, Sir, know Wheezy’s pa? Sir? Did he!? Wheezy’s pa was Dobby, Dobby the Free Elf indeed!” by the end of these words the house-elf was already jumping in excitement, the happiness and pride on his face unmistakeable. He reminded Harry so much of the house-elf he first met as a twelve-year-old that he stopped dead in his path and could barely speak under the acute attack of nostalgia.
“Your dad gave his life for me, Wheezy. For my part I’m honoured and proud to have known him. And it seems that he named you after the person I love best.”
When a huge grin lit up the wrinkled little face of the skinny creature, the raven-haired youth couldn’t help but to mirror it: if the fact that a creature named after a Weasley was part of the Malfoy’s household wasn’t worth a face-splitting smile, than nothing was. Life’s little irony at its best. But when he turned towards the happy little thing, his face was serious:
“Now, Wheezy - I do not wish to turn you against your masters, your father showed me the true meaning of loyalty to the family you serve, but – do keep these words in mind – should you ever consider a change of employment, my family would be most honoured to welcome you. My wife’s mother has wished for nothing but a house-elf in ages and she’s no longer a young woman. I’m afraid with the abundance of grandchildren strolling out and about, she tends to over-work herself and I have no doubt she would most eagerly welcome you into her household.”
“Wheezy is happy where he is, Harry Potter, Sir,” said the house-elf adamantly, but there was no mistake that he prided himself on the offer. “Wheezy is used to his family and who would play with Master Draco’s baby if Wheezy was not around? Master Draco’s baby is best buddies with Wheezy!”
“The Malfoys let you play with their grandson?” Harry asked incredulously. He couldn’t imagine Lucius allowing the house-elf near the precious child and was not surprised, when Wheezy shook his head violently.
“Not the Master and Missus, Harry Potter, Sir. They don’t know, it’s secret, big secret...” He hushed his voice and looked about him nervously as if he expected the much-feared Master of the house to grab him by the neck anytime. But since there was nothing suspicious to be noticed, he leaned in closer to Harry and whispered in a voice filled with pride: “The young master, Master Draco does. He never stays here anymore, Master Draco. But when he works, he brings baby here. Baby is no longer small, he is 5 years old and Master Draco says he could use some company other than himself and Madame Astoria. Such a lovely child, Harry Potter, Sir, such a lovely child!” The house elf was positively beaming and Harry just knew he had to use the opportunity.
“And is your young Master fond of the child?” he asked matter-of-factly, but could barely finish the words when the enthusiastic nodding almost snapped the house-elf’s head from his neck. “Master Draco loves his little one above anything, Harry Potter, Sir. Little Master Scorpius is the moon and the sun for young Master. And the same goes for the little Master - he would spend every single moment in his pa’s arms, if he could choose. He almost cries his eyes out every morning Master Draco leaves for work, though he would never do that in front of his pa. He puts on a brave face for his pa, he does, a truly brave boy, he is!”
And Harry was enough of a father himself to feel his heart squeeze in his chest at the thought he was about to put a relationship so precious to the test. He tried to smother the thought, told himself to be strong - perhaps it would not come to that at all – but suddenly a sobering sour taste in his mouth reminded him of what he was putting at stake for Ron. Still, he was too far gone now to quit, he couldn’t turn back now, he couldn’t! He’d done his lying, his cheating, his hurting for Ron, he was damned if he wasn’t ready to trample over the life of someone who meant as little to him as Malfoy did! For Ron, he told himself. He hoped eventually the redhead would come to appreciate it.
~
A silence reigned for a few moments after the door had closed behind the visitor as if both occupants of the sun-lit parlour wanted to make sure not a word could be overheard by uncalled for ears.
“That is outrageous, simply outrageous!” finally exploded the master of the Manor, no longer able to contain the wrath festering inside him. “What that insolent boy is thinking is beyond me, but he must be shown his place at once! I will stop at nothing, I tell you, Narcissa, at nothing, to knock some sense back into him! What on Salazaar’s cursed Earth is going on around that impossibly befuddled head of his, I will never know, but this nonsense must be stopped at once, I tell you, at once!”
“So what do you suggest we do?” asked his wife, uncommonly calm under the circumstances. Anyone who knew anything about Narcissa Malfoy Black would have known that this woman had not yet stopped thinking about the matter and was still turning it around her head to come to a conclusion likely to be singular to her own astute mind.
“Bring him to his knees, if I have to,” coldly cut her husband and his tightly shut fists told her everything she needed to know about his disposition. He was beyond arguing at this point. She would do well to keep her thoughts to herself until she reached a decision.
Because some time during the conversation with the morning visitor Narcissa’s initial shock had faded and some of the things the Potter boy had said made her see things in the entirely different light – and it was not one he might necessarily appreciate. The war had shown her the one truth she needed to know about herself: she would always put her beloved Draco’s well-being above anything. She had always felt she had somehow failed Draco for allowing Lucius to drag him in the middle of the Voldemort disaster and though she did her best to tune down the consequences, she could not help thinking that it was partially her fault that Draco barely smiled, almost never laughed and seemed to be unable to find love.
Narcissa, for her part, loved Lucius fiercely. She would never have allowed things to be taken so far if she wasn’t partially blinded by her trust in her beautiful strong husband. And she absolutely worshipped her son. It was her ultimate dream to see him happy – and yet she hardly ever did. He was satisfied, content, sometimes cheerful – but hardly ever unabashedly happy as she knew he deserved. And it was making her miserable. She longed to see joy and awe in his wondrous silver eyes as she did when he was a child and they presented him with a new top-of-the-line broom that was every young wizard’s dream. Those brilliant silver sparks in his eyes were gone when the war struck with all its might and try as she might – it seemed they were never coming back.
Except when he was playing with his son. The little Scorpious seemed to have a gift to bring the best out of people. He was proud and strong as her beloved Lucius – the child was hardly ever ill and already mastered his tiny broom with the skill that made his grandfather’s heart soar! – he was intelligent, thoughtful and had an air of natural elegance about him just like Narcissa did – and he was absolutely in love with his papa. It was mutual, of course. Draco was completely taken by the boy the moment he was born and would spend every free moment with him. Little Scorpius and his antics were the only things that sometimes made Draco knock his head backwards and positively roar with laughter (and made his grandfather roll his eyes up – “manners, for Merlin’s sake, manners!”) – the child was just good this way.
But there was never anyone else. Draco was polite towards his wife, but frankly, Astoria was so… perfect and so perfectly bland that Narcissa only now remembered that it would be a good thing if someone had a talk with her regarding the matter. Pretty as an ornament, she was trained to fade into the background when her charms weren’t required by society and frankly – Narcissa had no idea what the woman did all day all alone in that remote villa they occupied after Draco absolutely declined to ever come back and live in the Manor.
It was clear, she was not the one in the same sense Narcissa was the one for Lucius and with so many years gone by and no one ever came – Narcissa was ready to believe that there never would be the one for Draco, that the war had effectively killed something inside him that would allow him to feel those overwhelming feelings of giving in and giving everything. Until this morning.
With Potter focused on her husband, she took another good long look at the picture in the offending publication – and what she saw there almost knocked the wind out of her. It was there. That look. That look in his eyes, when he turned towards the undisputedly gorgeous man holding his arm and right before he launched himself at him. The stars in his eyes. And the smile on the redhead’s face had told her it was appreciated. And she wasn’t about to let her son pass up on a chance like that. Not on her watch.
Personally, she had nothing against the Weasleys. She had known Arthur and Molly at Hogwarts – she was a very popular, very attractive and unexpectedly bright student, while he was brilliant in his own half-mad way – but Narcissa had never felt any particular like or dislike for the Weasleys. She had merely adopted her husband’s disdainful attitude towards them – but couldn’t really find it in herself to hate them as passionately as her husband seemed to. And if her beloved son had truly fallen for a Weasley, if a Weasley – she really needed to make the effort to remember his name now, Ronald, was it? – Ronald had the capacity of making her son feel love and simply radiate happiness like this, for the whole world to see – then she needed to think things over very carefully and for once, act as she knew she should. Not as the lady of the Malfoy Manor. Not as Madame Malfoy, the wife of Lucius Malfoy. Not as esteemed member of the wizarding jet-set. But as Draco’s mother. She owed him that much. This was her chance to make things right between them.
If this was her son’s only chance at true happiness - love her husband as she might, Narcissa wasn’t about to let Lucius ruin it for him! But she desperately needed more information. Was this man worthy of her son’s love? Did he love him back? Did Draco truly honestly love him at all? No matter what the stupid newspaper and that jealous fool of a Potter had said, Narcissa was only willing to believe what came out of her son’s mouth. She wanted him to speak the words as she looked him in the eye – and then she could be sure. And she would act accordingly. Potter had come to seek an ally. He had found one. Not for himself, though. For Draco. A lesson was in place for the overconfident Mr. Potter; a hard lesson Dark Lord himself once had to learn, much to his chagrin: even the most powerful wizard never stood a chance in the face of a mother’s love for her child.
~ End of Part 7 ~
See also:
( Choices, Part 1 )
( Choices, Part 2 )
( Choices, Part 3 )
( Choices, Part 4 )
( Choices, Part 5/1 )
( Choices, Part 5/2 )
( Choices, Part 6 )
