Draco had gone home the next weekend, halfly because he was avoiding Liv, and halfly because an egg had hatched at home. Narcissa had written him, mentioning that the house elves had been saving feathers for him, though she rather wished he'd throw them away. Draco had written back quickly and had been permitted a visit home. Indeed, the vase that sat beside his bed was now filled completely.
"Mossy!" He called out when he saw them.
A loyal house elf appeared in the room, a potato sack for clothing. "Yes, Master Draco?" The old elf sighed in a deep tone.
"This is your doing?" Draco asked, pointing to the vase.
The elf nodded.
"Good; draw a bath."
"Yes, master," he answered, silently clearing the room on his way into Draco's bathroom.
Mossy was Draco's favorite house elf. A careful, measured creature, with small ears and a crooked snout, he was not one to give an opinion or to speak when it was not necessary. Mossy had served the Malfoy lineage for decades. In ways most curious, he had never divulged any information about himself. He drew the bath quickly and opened the curtains in the room to reveal a view of the back yards huge and fenced-in for the pea fowls to roam freely.
"Very good," Draco dismissed. The sun had begun to set. The trip from Hogwarts was long and quite dreadful, really, but pieces of home made up for that. Draco undressed and sat down in the water slowly, as it was hot. The bath smelled of peppermint, a fine way to close the day. Back at school, Olivia would be flying as she did every Friday afternoon. She would be cold, possibly turning back because of the time. He wondered if she was alone. Draco gathered all of his breath and sank fully beneath the water, his eyes closed. He heard no sounds. It was always quiet in the manor at dusk. He felt the overwhelming need to cherish that moment as if he would not have it later.
The chick was odd; Draco thought when he finally laid eyes on it. It was brown with black eyes, unlike any other chick that had been hatched at the manor. He held the fowl in his hands and gently pushed to see the feathers under its down. They were the color of spice tea.
Draco listened at the door of his father's study to see that he was alone. When he was sure, Draco knocked on the tall mahogany door and stepped in.
"Ah, son, how is my boy today?"
"I'm fine, Father."
"And how is your bird?" It was not a secret to his family how attached Draco was to the creatures. Lucius knew and used the affection to his advantage. If he wanted a visit from his son, he would often write him with a question about an avian ailment, without specificity.
"I find it strange that the heir of two albino birds is brown."
"You wish to know of genetics?" Lucius asked taking a quill in hand.
"Yes, I suppose so." Draco answered, leaning forward in his green chair to see what his father was writing.
Lucius drew on a sheet of scrap parchment:
AA
Ab
AA
AA
Ab
Ab
Ab
bb
"In order for your bird to have been brown without albinism, both parents must have been carrying the gene for normal coloring. Does that explain it?"
Draco nodded, but did not completely understand. Genetics seemed foolish. He'd simply wanted to make an observation and make conversation with his father about something other than expectations.
"Wait… I have that backwards." Lucius paused. His mind had become like an ancient carpet in days of late. It was pretty to observe, sometimes difficult to avoid, and fraying on the ends.
"Oh?" Draco prompted. He hoped the next subject would be more fascinating.
"Because albino pea fowls are so rare, it is more common that they produce a brown heir. The gene is recessive."
"Recessive?"
"Submissive is another word, like blond hair and blue—or gray—eyes…like ours." Lucius placed a gentle hand on his son's shoulder. "It's a sign of good, selective breeding." He chuckled.