AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thank you to JeanAndBilius for reviewing and also adding to Follows and Faves; also to Guest and rebecca-in-blue for reviews. Greatly appreciated. :) Rebecca, Trimblefeathers is my own invention and not from any other fandom. As I plan for him to reappear later in the story I thought he should be properly introduced. ;D
Chapter 2
Reaction
"...and at first I thought the owl may have been from Daphne, but then I quickly realised it wasn't Henrietta," Astoria told her husband and son for the third or fourth time, unselfishly glossing over her disappointment.
"I'm so sorry your sister hasn't owled you yet," Draco whispered guiltily. Astoria never gave hope of one day being reconciled with her family. Lord and Lady Greengrass. her elder sister Daphne and all assorted Greengrass relatives had long disowned her, not only because she and Draco turned their backs on the old pureblood ideals but because she married one of the "cowardly, traitorous, defecting Malfoys". His wife merely gave a small smile and squeezed his hand reassuringly. The reactions from the two men in her life to the tale of the early morning messenger had been vastly different but both were eager to hear it. Several times.
Scorpius wanted to hear the story over and over because he was so excited at the prospect of seeing Rose and "the gang" again. Draco needed to hear it oft repeated word for word in case he missed something the previous time. Okay, so they had all met briefly at the cemetery that fateful day*, when the Malfoys had gone to lay roses on Narcissa and Lucius's graves and the Potter, Granger and Weasley clan gone to pay their respects to the late Fred Weasley and, okay, as Scorpius seemed to get on well with their brood, a vague invite for a play-date some time in the future had been issued. But surely it had been nothing more than polite chit-chat in front of the kids and nobody really meant it? Therefore was there an ulterior motive for this invitation? He didn't come right out and say so, of course, not in Scorpius's hearing, but Astoria could read him like a book. The nervous licking of his lips. The smoothing back of his carefully gelled white-blond hair, thinner now but still much cosseted. The anxious tapping of his foot under the table every time the names Potter, Weasley or Granger were aired – as they needs must be in the telling.
Scorpius, on the other hand, despite having heard about the owl's visit three times already, had several new observations to make each time.
"I wish I'd woke up! I wish I..."
"Woken up," Draco corrected automatically.
Scorpius merely grinned at him in the alarmingly laid-back well-it's-not-that-important-really-is it? muggle manner he'd acquired being brought up among muggles. A world away from his own wizarding upbringing, Draco thought, with mixed emotions. An inward sigh for his child's lack of culture and an odd kind of pride that he was so relaxed. For a similar offence, Lucius would have sent the young Draco to the library to manually write out the correct grammar a thousand times as "purebloods did not make such shocking mistakes." (Father was well aware he'd have gotten a house-elf to do it for him, but being disgraced was considered the real punishment anyway.) No, purebloods did not make such shocking mistakes, he reflected. Some, the followers of Voldemort, made far worse. They maimed and tortured and killed. Perhaps the muggle way wasn't so bad after all.
"Dad! Dad! Dad, you're not listening!" He suddenly realised Scorpius was talking to him – Merlin, King Arthur and all the Knights of the Round Table, there was no way Draco would have dared speak to Lucius so; "why don't we get an owl?"
"Because we don't have the money," Astoria replied succinctly, and although Draco shuffled uncomfortably in his chair he lifted the gaze that had lowered at the innocent remark.
She knew how much he still hated having to use expressions like "can't afford" and "too expensive" and "budgeting." They had both been raised in vastly wealthy households, Draco's home almost a palace and he almost a prince, and the fall from fortune was deep and heavy though Astoria had adjusted more easily to their new lifestyle. A Healer could command an excellent salary, especially when he or she reached the top of their profession, but the powers-that-be were determined a Malfoy should never rise above the level of junior Healer, nor did it help matters that a good deal of that salary was still being swallowed by War reparations thanks to some kind of clause Lucius secured in order to keep him out of prison. And Astoria's wages as a kindergarten teacher did not pay very much; muggle jobs never did compared to the silver and gold and galleons of the wizarding world.
Scorpius gave a dramatic sigh for appearance's sake. He had never known riches and was accustomed to their lack of cash and often heard his muggle friends' parents give the same answers to their offspring when they asked for something. His pipe dream of owning an owl was quickly forgotten; he knew it was a long shot to begin with, but, like his friends, Scorpius's philosophy was it was always worth a try.
"I'm gonna tell Boots about the owl!" He announced, suddenly espying the sleek black cat in the garden covertly watching the birds and jumping up from the breakfast table to hurry out and join her there.
The Malfoys did not own a cat but a cat had decided to own them and apparently several other people in the vicinity. Draco treated this unexpected addition to the family with great wariness. Cats could not be trusted. Granger's cat hated him and the feeling was mutual. Crookshanks would strut around Hogwarts as if he owned the school and arch his back and hiss if they happened to meet – which rarely happened after the Moody incident, Draco's sense of self-preservation was too great. He was pretty damn sure Crookshanks was just biding his time, waiting for him to be turned into a ferret again. And Boots shared the same superior attitude, pleasing herself about which house she visited, when and how long she stayed, how much food she ate, when and where she slept or basked in the sun. It reminded him rather too uncomfortably of the bad old days when the Malfoys simply took whatever they wanted.
Usually Boots miaowed loudly or yawned pointedly when anyone interrupted her concentration in the stalking of small creatures as she was busy doing at that moment. But, like everyone else seemed to, she must have kept a special place in her heart for the young wizard, for she always stopped whatever her current occupation to entertain him. Draco watched the pair through the window, Scorpius waving his arms about in an apparent imitation of the owl flying to their home, his face animated, talking nineteen to the dozen. Boots sat curled up silently listening, taking everything in, giving nothing away. Did she know about the ferret transfiguration and was that why she hung around? Astoria always laughed at the idea, but Draco was also pretty damn sure that cat was a Slytherin.
See *The Roses Grow
