A Weasley Tradition
Chapter 2: Welcome Home
Disclaimer: I simply cannot afford to be sued right now. Actually, I can't afford anything right now. So, you know, I don't own it, and never will, unless, unbeknownst to me, I am related to Miss Rowling, and she leaves me the character rights when she dies.
A/N: I meant to leave this in the last chapter. I'm not sure if I should make Harry and Ron have a "friends with benefits" thing going on, or if I should even make this slash. I think I need a muse. Maybe I'll get one. But, what would I call it…-continues to ramble-
To say things had changed would be the biggest understatement of the century. Oh, it had happened gradually, nothing sudden, but it had happened. Things were most definitely different, and his mind was constantly traveling back to when it started, despite his pointless effort not to think about it.
He had left home at the end of summer break, and gone to Hogwarts for his sixth year. Nothing new there. He had gone back home, along with most of the school, for Christmas break, and noticed a few things while he was there. For example, most of the priceless family heirlooms, normally flaunted on the mantel, were missing. His mother claimed to have 'redecorated,' but after having searched the whole house one day while she was out, which took most of the day, he had come to the conclusion that they were not located anywhere inside of Malfoy Manor. So, they were a little short on money, and his mother didn't want him to know. Understandable, after all, they no longer got and income, what with his father being in prison, and his mother refusing to work. She had obviously sold them. But it didn't make sense. Even without an income they had, (literally) tons of gold stashed away in Gringotts. Surely, she couldn't have spent it all in a year?
But it wasn't his place to question his mother's actions. She did what she wanted, and he did what she wanted. He supposed now he should have asked her something, or inquired just a little further about the oddities he was noticing. It just might have done something. But it wasn't his fault; he wasn't going to blame himself for their sudden bankruptcy. Hell, he wouldn't even take the blame when something was his fault. He went back to school after Christmas break confused.
Then, there was that new holiday that made absolutely no sense. Surprisingly, most kids were staying at school for this one. Well, maybe it wasn't so surprising. Parents didn't have time to plan out vacations or anything. The holiday had practically appeared out of nowhere. He only knew of a few kids returning home. Pansy was, he knew for a fact. He was almost certain Blaise wasn't staying at school either. He honestly didn't know about Crabbe or Goyle. Contrary to popular belief they were not his friends. The first time they had met had been on the train to Hogwarts five years ago. He hadn't said anything, or told them to do anything, just politely asked their names. All he had done was sit in a compartment with them, and when he walked outside for a bit of fresh air, he found one walking beside each of his shoulders. He was going to tell them to go away, but then thought that they might come in handy, so he let them stay where they were. As it turned out, they had come in handy over the years, and to this day Draco was grateful for his choice of seats that first train ride to Hogwarts.
He was once again on afore mentioned train, going home for that senseless holiday. He had requested that his mother let him stay at school, but she said she wanted him home. After an uneventful ride, the Hogwarts express pulled onto Kings Cross station, platform 9 ¾. There was another thing that didn't make sense. Why call it 9 ¾ when it was in the middle of platforms 9 and 10. Why not 9 ½? Another inquiry he never made, it wasn't his place to ask.
He stepped off, and looked around for his butler. To his surprise he saw, not his butler, or any other servant for that matter, but his own mother. They made eye contact, and she came running over. Draco would like to say that his mother came running over gracefully to meet him, because if she had to run at all, that would be the way to do it. And Draco could say that if he wanted to, but it would be a lie. Well, he had never had any problems with lying before, so, what the heck? His mother came running gracefully to meet him.
But not by the furthest extent of the imagination could you call Narcissa Malfoy's rush to greet her son graceful. She ran, tripping over carts and suitcases, barely able to keep a straight line. It almost looked like she was drunk. And there was a very good explanation for that, Draco decided, as his mother hugged his neck and exclaimed how happy she was to see him. She was drunk. The unmistakable smell of alcohol was heavy on her breath.
Draco gently pushed her away, holding her at arm's length. He examined his mother's face. There were dark circles under her eyes, and her once impossibly youthful skin was lined and wrinkled. Her make-up was applied sloppily, almost as if she hadn't had a looking glass while she was putting it on. Even as he thought it Draco felt ashamed of himself, but the first thing that had come to his mind when he saw his mother had been, he hoped Potter, his sidekick, and his sidekick's girlfriend had decided to stay at school. It wouldn't help his steadily declining reputation at all if they saw his mother like this.
But, of course, life is never that easy, for at that exact moment the golden trio came practically skipping off the train, chatting merrily amongst themselves. The red headed one seemed to be the only one who noticed him though. They made brief eye contact, or maybe not. It was so brief Draco could have imagined it. He was getting awfully paranoid these days.
He turned his attention back to his mother. How, what was he to do about her?
"Come on Dray, we need to talk," she said softly. She hadn't called him Dray in…he couldn't even remember the last time she had used his childhood nickname. They passed through the gate, and he blinked rapidly as his eyes tried to adjust to the harsh sunlight. All softness gone from her voice now, his mother began to speak very loudly. "Dray, as you know, we've been having some problems with money lately and well…"
"Mother," Draco said quietly, "Perhaps we should take this conversation elsewhere?" Her eyes narrowed briefly, but then her face took on a childlike expression.
"Oh, of course dear. Let's speed it up though." She grabbed his arm, and before Draco could protest, he had been side-along apparated to…he honestly had no idea where he was. He was in a dark room that was small, damp, and impossibly cluttered. He was hoping his mother's drunkenness had accidentally landed them in this shit hole, but she looked like she knew the place very well. She walked over to a lump that Draco supposed could have been a couch. He was proven right when she sat down on it and gestured for him to do the same. He, however, remained standing.
"Mother, where the hell are we?" She looked confused only for a moment, then her eyes lit up like she had just remembered something.
"OH, of course, silly me, I forgot. Welcome home Dray!"