"Mother?" Draco was unsure of what to say. Of what to do. Narcissa was wasting away. The light, once her most charming and provocative feature, had faded from her eyes. Draco did not know how to make it come back, and the candle he held seemed only to mock his worries as its shivering flame reflected back at him in her dull blue eyes. "Aren't you going to get up?" Ever? his mind questioned. "It's almost dinner time. You've missed breakfast and lunch." For the past week.
Narcissa shifted enough to bury her face in the tear-stained pillow. Her satin, wrinkled robes hung loosely, revealing the jagged edges of her shoulder blades. She had ignored her son since he had come home from his fifth year at Hogwarts to find only a house elf waiting for him. His mother had been this way ever since.
"Go away," she pleaded. Draco gasped softly. He hadn't heard her speak in so long. "I can't stand to look at you. You look just like Lucius." A sob consumed the name. Draco felt his face flush with shame.
Draco was terrified. Their manor had always seemed like shelter from the rest of the world. Here, he was rich and spoiled. Here, there was no Harry Potter or uppity mudbloods or hand-me-down red heads. Here, Draco could live with the knowledge that his parents were just his parents. Here, they loved him.
But now, it seemed like a prison. It seemed like he was trapped and isolated. Would they both go insane out here? He had no one to talk to but the house elves. Draco involuntarily shuddered.
"Master Draco?" Draco nearly choked on his bacon at the sound of the squeaky voice. When was the last time he'd heard any noise? It'd been days since he'd talked to his mother, and he hardly saw the house elves; they'd always been keen to avoid him. "Master...?"
"What?" He gasped through a mouthful of bacon. "What is it?"
"Mistress wants me to call Dobby, sir."
Draco stared blankly at the revolting thing in front of him. "What's a Dobby?"
"Dobby, Sir. One of your former house elves."
"Why would my mother request that thing?" Draco inwardly cringed. His mother wasn't exactly right in the head these days.
The house elf shifted uncomfortably. "Mistress misses Dobby, Sir?" it mumbled uncertainly.
Draco felt something in him snap in a way that usually marked the loss of his temper. Instead, he felt only empty. "Who doesn't she miss these days?" His voice raised an octave. "Everyone but me." No, he thought. He would not cry in front of a house elf.
The elf stared up at him with wide green orbs. "What does Master wish Rumple to do?"
"It's up to you," he said humorlessly. His father would never have allowed it. Let his mother see that he wasn't like Lucius. Then maybe she'd look at him. Maybe he'd be able to look in the mirror without feeling sick.
"Malfoy?" a squeaky voice called him from the front door. It sounded apprehensive.
"Excuse me?" House elves did not use his name.
"Your mother called for me?" Draco entered the foyer to find the source of the voice standing next to the coffee table, shorter than the wooden legs.
"Er," Draco was unsure how to finish this sentence. He had never actually talked to a house elf before. It had never occurred to him that they could stand so upright or say other things than More tea, Master? or Shall Dot turn down the bed covers, Sir? "Donkey?"
The house elf let out a squeaky, nervous sound that Draco took to be a laugh. "It's actually Dobby."
"Oh." Draco started with the horrifying realization that an awkward silence had settled between him and a house elf, for God's sake. His father would die with shame. Good, Draco mused.
"It Mrs. Malfoy upstairs?"
"She's been up there forever." This felt better-- to let his fear out. To finally admit that he had no idea how to fix everything. "She won't get up. All she does is cry and sleep. She won't eat. She won't talk. She won't..." Pay attention to me. No, better to keep that last fear to himself.
"I see." The small elf ran a nervous hand over his hairless head. "Well, we'll just have to get her up, won't we?" How could a house elf sound more confident than him?
Draco followed the small form up the stairs. Each step made his heart thump faster against his ribs. How could this... elf fix everything?
Dobby entered the room respectfully but firmly. "Mrs. Malfoy, time for dinner."
The small form shifted away from the light spilling in from the hallway. "I'm not hungry."
"Dobby promises to make Mistress's favorite," Dobby sang cheerfully, hitting an ear-piercing note.
A mass of blonde hair and rumpled robes shot up from the covers. "Dobby?"
For the first time since they'd entered the room, Draco saw the house elf's smile falter. "Oh, my poor Mistress! Tsk tsk. What have you done to yourself?"
Draco sat uncomfortably at the head of the table, flanked by his mother on his right and Dobby on his left. Macaroni-and-Cheese, mashed potatoes, chicken fingers, and strawberries and cream sat on the table. He was unsure how much confusion he could let show on his face without his mother becoming upset. The elf, much to Draco's surprise, had convinced Narcissa to get up and take a shower fairly easily. She now sat next to Draco, her make-up and hair perfectly done; if it were not for the way her robes hung more loosely on her thin frame, she would look the same as she had before his father was in Azkaban.
"Oh, Dobby!" Was Draco imagining things or was his mother's voice happy? And had she just called the house elf by its first name? Since when was that allowed in the Malfoy household? "My favorites!"
"Aren't these muggle foods?" Draco asked tentatively, gesturing at the macaroni and chicken fingers.
A small frown creased Narcissa's beautiful face. "Well, your father never allowed such food in his house." She smiled admiringly at the elf. "But Dobby would always bring me some when Lucius was away on business."
"Oh." He reached forward and grabbed a chicken finger, stuffing the whole thing into his mouth rather obscenely. "Well, if Father doesn't allow it," he spoke through a mouthful of chicken. "Let's do it."
The house elf squeaked happily from his left, and his mother smiled warmly. "You know," she mused. "Now that I look at you properly, you don't look like Lucius at all. You look so much more like me. It's like looking in a mirror." Draco smiled back at her, unashamed by the face reflected in her eyes.
A/N: I hope to write a story explaining the friendship between Dobby and Narcissa more deeply soon.