A/N: For MissBlueZues.
i.
"Mother?" Draco says softly, taking a deep breath to steady himself. "Can we talk?"
Narcissa looks up at her son, concern clear in her eyes. In a moment, she is by his side, fingers wrapping gently around his wrist. "What is it, Draco?" she asks. "Is everything okay?"
He almost feels guilty for worrying her. Still, part of him wonders if she'll still care so much when he tells her. "I'm fine," he assures her, pulling out of her grip and gesturing towards the living room. "Maybe you should sit down."
The confusion in her eyes only intensifies, and she lingers awkwardly over the nearest chair as though unsure if she really wants to sit or not. "Go on," she urges.
Wringing his hands together, Draco sighs. He doesn't know how to begin. For several moments, he just stands there, contemplating his hands as though they're the most interesting things in the world. Slowly, he exhales, unaware that he'd been holding his breath. "I've been seeing someone."
She relaxes, a smile breaking across her face. "Oh? That's good news," she says. "What's her name?"
Her.
Draco forces himself not to groan at the assumption. His mother was raised with the old ways. Of course she'd jump to that conclusion.
"Charlie," he says. "Charlie Weasley."
Her smile falters. Draco waits for the backlash, for her to shriek and scream that he is no longer her son. People have been blasted off the Black family tree for far less. But she only nods. "Well, I'll expect to sit with him and have a proper discussion," she says firmly, her tone leaving no room for argument.
"Yes, Mother," Draco mumbles, relief at her reaction mixing with nervousnes at the idea of his mother and Charlie alone together.
ii.
"Why so glum?" Charlie asks when Draco appears in his kitchen.
"My mother wants to meet you."
"Ah. That," Charlie says, pulling a piece of parchment from his pocket. "We have a tea date at noon tomorrow."
Draco groans and closes his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. "She wastes no time."
Charlie wraps his arms aroud him, kissing his forehead gently. "This is good, Draco," he assures him. "We talked about this. You've already met my family, so-"
"But your family is a lot more tolerant than mine," Draco interrupts, blushing furiously. "They don't worry about blood purity and producing heirs. You weren't taught that the most important thing is marrying a pure witch and carrying on the family name!"
Charlie silences him with a firm kiss, his lips drowing out the other man's worries. "It will be okay. Trust me."
Grudgingly, Draco nods.
iii.
Despite all his reassurances the day before, Charlie is nervous as Narcissa Malfoy leads him to the garden. Draco is right. Their families are different. There's a good chance that he's only been invited to receive a threat... or worse.
"You'll have to excuse me," she says, returning with a poorly balanced tea tray. "Lucius never did find another elf after he lost Dobby."
"That's okay," he says quickly, reaching out and grabbing the tray before its contents spill. "We never had servants."
"Of course not."
Charlie is surprised to find that her tone is not snide. She says the words simply as if she'd truly forgotten that he comes from a poor family.
"So, you love my son," she ventures, serving the tea between them.
Charlie tenses. He has to remind himself that this is an important step, not some trap. Stirring cream into his cup, he nods. "Very much so."
He catches her smiling. Narcissa doesn't bother to hide it. "And you're sure?"
"I've never been more certain."
The woman nods, leaning back in her chair and sipping her tea. Her eyes move over him, and Charlie forces himself not to panic under the weight of her stare.
"Though our views are drastically different," she says at last, resting her cup on her saucer, "I know that you come from a good family."
Her words catch him off guard. Charlie knows that his family is one of the best, but hearing a Malfoy say it is something else entirely. In spite of all tensions between the families, she's praising them.
"I don't doubt that Molly Weasley raised her children right," she continues, seemingly oblivious to Charlie's stunned expression. "And I'm sure that you're a proper gentleman, and I have nothing to worry about."
Charlie nods his confirmation with a smile. "You really don't. I promise I-"
"However," she interrupts, and Charlie shrinks back as her tone becomes low, dangerous, "if you hurt my son... Well, you'll discover that Bellarix wasn't the only Black sister with a few curses up her sleeves."
Swallowing dryly, Charlie nods, dropping his gaze to the table. Narcissa may look frail and delicate like a porcelain doll, but anyone with enough courage to betray the Dark Lord is a force to be reckoned with. He can only imagine how dangerous it would be to get on her bad side. "Understood."
When she speaks again, her voice is light and gentle again. "I want what every parent wants, Charlie. I want my son to be happy. If you're the one to do it, then you have my blessing."
iv.
"Well?" Draco asks anxiously when Charlie returns.
Grinning, Charlie pulls his lover into his arms, grazing his lips over Draco's jaw. "Your mother wants you to be happy," he whispers.
"I am happy," Draco says.
Charlie nods, dropping his hands to Draco's waist. "And that's exactly why she gave us her blessing."
The younger man pulls back, eyes roaming Charlie's face as though searching for a punchline. "She said that?"
Charlie chuckles at the relief in Draco's voice. "Yup."
Draco curls against him again, his lips forming a smile against Charlie's chest. Charlie finds himself mirroring the smile as he holds Draco closer, grateful that they no longer have to worry.