14. Mater familias
Before Draco was at all ready for her arrival, his Mother came back to England with all the expected pomp and circumstance. She descended on his home in a whirl of activity, overtaking his house with a retinue of house-elves sending Essie into a panicked frenzy. Soon every room was dressed with an arrangement of flowers he mostly detested and the good china from the French estate filled every surface he had purposefully kept bare. Narcissa Malfoy Portkeyed into the drawing room and stood there, surveying him, then the room in which she had arrived, in utter silence, her face not betraying any emotion.
"You could have told me we are staying in Grandfather Rosier's house," she said eventually, taking one step closer to him and kissing lightly him on the cheek with cold lips. Draco tried to return the gesture but she must have noticed his hesitation.
"I call it the Dragon's Nest now," he said, his voice rather cooler than he had intended. "Mr. Goldstein convinced the Wizengamot to make up for the unfair consequences of my father's sentence. They have returned some of the Malfoy assets to me, this house included."
Narcissa raised one eyebrow. "They gave my dowry to you?" The reproach in her voice was only thinly veiled. Draco inclined his head and sent his mother a sharp smile.
"That was the wording of their verdict. They made restitutions to me. You are, of course, welcome to the use of the jewelry and the house, in so far as you wish to make use of any of it, Mother."
She glanced around the room once more. "I recognise the place, of course, but it has changed a lot since my grandfather's time. I assume that is your doing?"
Draco let his eyes glide over the new white and silver curtains, the bleached wainscoting and the elegant white, silver and green silk wall hangings. The hardwood floor was covered in a warm, brightly coloured carpet and the elegant furniture decorated in shades of green and white. He loved the morning room, the comfort and familiarity of the Slytherin colours combined with bright and pure white that promised a new beginning. It was as unlike the Manor as it could be. He lifted his chin proudly. "As I said, the house is mine now, so I thought some redecorating was in order. It was in a terrible state when I first saw it. I was very fortunate that the Zabini's let me borrow their house-elves, and between us we managed to turn the place around. Let me show you the other rooms, Mother, and then maybe you want to rest before dinner? International Portkey travel is always so exhausting."
He held out his arm, a formal invitation she accepted by placing her fingers lightly just below his elbow. He showed her about the house and explained all the small and big changes he had made. She was unmoved by the new kitchen, although she had to agree it was very nice, indeed. For a kitchen. "Still, Draco, why would you show me the kitchen."
Her disapproving voice made his lips twist in annoyance, but he managed to keep his temper in check and led her into the dining room, and then upstairs to her room. She did seem to approve of that, he noticed with relief. He was annoyed at himself for still seeking her approval, but the next few weeks would be infinitely more bearable if she was comfortable in her quarters. She had a small sitting room to herself, decorated in pale blue and gold, and a comfortable bedroom filled mostly with the rosewood furniture original to the house that he had managed to restore.
"That bed was my grandparents', Draco. Thank you. This room is quite nice. I shall be quite comfortable here, after all."
Draco's polite smile did not quite reach his eyes. Once he was alone in his room, he shook off his annoyance and reminded himself not to let her take over his house nor his mind. "I have my plans. I have my life back. She'll be back in France in no time. Just a few weeks," he told himself while dressing for dinner.
Dinner was another trial that tested Draco's patience to the utmost limit. His mother talked incessantly about the French wizarding families she had associated with - "Really, Draco, you should have visited, I could have introduced you to Emilie de Montfort, such a lovely girl, I'm sure you would like her. And from such a noble family!" - and Draco sighed, and smiled politely, and wished dinner would be over so he could retreat to his own rooms.
"And then I was at a soiree organised by the Dammartins and I ran into Pansy Parkinson! Imagine my surprise, Draco!"
Draco looked up in shock, almost choking on the pheasant. "Pansy?" he managed to choke out, after coughing and grabbing for a glass of water to ease his throat.
"Really, Draco, I raised you better than that," Narcissa said with a disapproving look. "Yes, Miss Parkinson. Apparently she has been travelling these past few years, on the Continent. Such a wonderful young woman, so accomplished, so polite. It was most pleasant to meet such an old friend, of course, and she indulged me by talking of you very often. I hope you do not mind I invited her over for dinner soon? She really wanted to reconnect with you, so of course I said I would arrange it. If you give me permission, I can ask her over tomorrow evening. It is your house, after all, I would never presume…"
The bite in those last words did not diminish Draco's sudden wish to see Pansy Parkinson again. They had not met since Hogwarts, and though their families had tried to arrange a marriage between them, he had never seen her in that time. He had, after all, refused most adamantly to enter into any arranged marriage. His refusal, however, was not based in any dislike for the lady herself, rather it had been because his heart belonged - still belonged - to another.
"Of course you can invite her, Mother. I would be delighted to meet her after all these years," he said, speaking with genuine warmth for the first time since his mother had arrived.
He did not notice the gleam of satisfaction in her eyes, nor her calculating looks. He was lost in the memories of a long-established friendship.
Narcissa Malfoy hid a satisfied smile behind her hand. She was convinced that Draco need only spend some time with the Parkinson girl to rekindle their close friendship before he could be persuaded to honour the marriage contract the two families had almost signed only three years ago. She would see him marry a Pureblood, after all.
An unexpected owl at breakfast brought the message that Harry Potter had secured a room and Pensieve at the Ministry for that day, and Draco gladly used the excuse to get away from his mother for the day. He had travelled to the Ministry by Floo before his mother had even left her room. It was fortunate indeed that she preferred to take her breakfast in bed.
Harry Potter awaited him in the Atrium and greeted him most cordially, causing scandalised gasps and stares in their direction, which they both ignored. Harry lead him to a small office on the fourth floor. It was sparsely furnished, only a few shelves on the walls and a desk with two chairs in the centre. It did not have any windows. It reminded Draco uncomfortably of the interrogation cells he had spent so much time in before his trial.
"Arthur very graciously allowed me the use of his office, I thought it better not to do this in the Auror Department. I fear many Aurors still hold a grudge against your family, understandably, but very unfortunate for you. Nobody ever comes here, so we won't be disturbed."
It took Draco a couple of minutes before he understood Harry was talking about Arthur Weasley.
"So you still are on speaking terms with the Weasley's then?"
"Yes, why would I not be?" Harry looked genuinely confused as he closed the door behind them and raised some privacy wards for good measure.
"I thought you had been set to marry the Weasley girl but the marriage did not take place. And you seem to be out of sorts with Ronald Weasley. I just assumed… I apologize."
Harry looked pensive for a moment. Then he began to set up the Pensieve, which was carefully concealed in a wooden crate underneath the desk.
"You are not entirely mistaken, so there is no need to apologize. Ron and I are… not fighting exactly, but it has been difficult. He is still in love with Hermione, but even you have seen how she feels about him. She cannot forgive him for… when he left, and she just… I believe she never really felt the same about him, in any case, even in Hogwarts. Our relationship has become strained because he wants me to persuade Hermione to give him another chance, but I cannot in good conscience do that. She is my sister in all but blood and I respect her wishes. I believe she knows her own heart. He needs to move on." The Pensieve was set up on the desk. Harry leaned on the desk, one hand either side of the Pensieve and stared into its swirling depths. He lowered his voice a little and continued, without looking at Draco, "Ginevra Weasley is another situation entirely. At Hogwarts we were very close but during the War we never saw much of one another and we just grew apart. Luna did keep crossing my path and we came to rely upon one another. After the Final Battle, I did try to regain my old footing with Miss Weasley, but we had both changed too much. Something felt very wrong when we were together. Every time I met Luna, life felt as if it finally made sense. So Miss Weasley and I decided together to release each other and I courted Luna instead. We married soon after. We both chose not to waste time on public expectations. We lived through a war, we deserve to be happy and society be damned. Molly and Arthur love me like a son, they wouldn't keep my failed relationship with their daughter, or the strained situation with Ronald, against me." Then he smiled. "We should get down to business first, Draco. We can talk more later."
Draco nodded and put his wand against his temple. He concentrated on the memory of that fateful afternoon and carefully extracted it from his mind to drop it in the Pensieve.
"We should go in together. I would not want to violate your privacy by going in alone. On the count of three," Harry said, holding his wand at the ready. Draco did the same, and they counted together.
"One.. Two… Three." Their wands touched the memory at the same time and they fell into the swirling silvery mass. They landed on the top of the hill, where Draco was standing on the edge of a deep precipice, and Astoria was clinging to him. Harry chuckled at the sight.
"I had not noticed that when we were up there."
"Lucky you. Too busy with the wife, I suspect," Draco responded drily.
They followed the group as they started their descent, and stayed close to memory-Draco and memory-Astoria. Both Draco and Harry looked around, trying to spot any signs of abnormality.
"I think this is about where…" Draco started to say, but he was interrupted by a loud bang and then the rocks came crashing down in a roaring flood.
"Did you see that?" Harry asked, almost breathless, as the rocks pounded down the hill, through them and around memory Draco and Astoria, who were protected by a shimmering red shield.
"There was a purple flash just before the noise starts, was there not?" Draco said, uncertainly.
"Yes, I noticed it too. A blasting curse, I should say. So it really was no accident after all."
"It appears not."
They followed memory-Draco running and sliding down the hill to find to Hermione and Blaise, and then the memory faded around them, and they were thrown out of the Pensieve.
They stared at each other over the Pensieve in astonishment. Their breathing was the only sound in the room.
"What now?" Draco asked, breaking the uncomfortable silence. Harry put the memory in a quickly conjured vial and took the Pensieve from the desk to stow it away in the crate.
"I need to investigate this more closely. I will assign some trusted Aurors to guard both Zabini and Hermione. I can take care of myself and my wife. What about you? Do you require any assistance?" At Draco's decisive shake of the head, he continued, "I thought not. I shall be completely frank with you, Draco, I rather think Zabini and Hermione were the target."
They started walking towards the Atrium again, a Muffliato charm shielding their conversation from curious ears.
"Yes, I suppose you are right. I really do not need any help with protection, Harry, the house I live in has ancient and strong wards, and I shall watch my back whenever I go out. That is nothing new, after all." Draco laughed wryly. "It is still not a good climate for a former Death Eater to walk around freely, as you know. Even if people know it was unwilling, the trial was publicised in detail in the Prophet, after all, some believe those were all lies to get me out of a conviction, just like my father claimed to be imperiused the first time around."
"I know this means very little now but I do believe it will get better. I better take this to Robards, I trust him to help me with this." Harry stopped at the second floor to say goodbye to Draco.
"I guess this means I better go straight home, instead of avoiding my Mother by walking the length and breadth of Diagon Alley?" Draco laughed again, but there was an edge of panic to his laughter that betrayed his strong reluctance.
"You could always visit Luna at Grimmauld Place. She would certainly love to see you again," Harry suggested. Draco sighed with relief.
"There's an idea. Thank you, Harry. Please do let me know how your enquiries into this matter progress."
"I will." They shook hands and Draco made to continue towards the Atrium.
"Harry!" The voice made both men freeze, but then Harry smiled and turned around. A surreptitious movement cancelled the Muffliato that had protected their conversation.
"Ron, how are you?"
"What on Merlin's sweet Earth are you doing here with that Ferret?" There was an accusation in those fierce blue eyes Draco did not quite understand.
"Draco and I ran into each other, he had some business at the Ministry." Draco realised that Harry had chosen not to inform his best friend about the Pensieve memory they had just looked at and the conclusions they had drawn. Or, he thought, looking around, maybe he just prefers not to talk about it where everyone can hear. He could understand that precaution. He nodded at Harry and made another attempt to continue towards the Atrium, from where he could Floo to the Potters' house and see if Mrs. Potter would receive him.
"And what business could a Death Eater have here?" Weasley sneered. Draco tensed but didn't turn back.
"Ronald!" Harry chided.
But Weasley refused to give up, and forcefully turned Draco around by the shoulder to face him.
"I asked a question, Malfoy." He glared menacingly, but Draco merely smiled. He had been glared at by Voldemort and had survived. An angry Weasel did not faze him now.
"I had not realised you were talking to me, Mr. Weasley. I was cleared by the Wizengamot, you see, so that particular epitaph does not apply to me." He deftly shrugged himself free from Weasley's grip, and turned towards the Atrium again.
"Now if you will excuse me, I do have business to attend to. Good day, Mr. Weasley, Harry," he said over his shoulder. Weasley snarled but failed to prevent Draco from leaving, and Draco allowed himself a satisfied smile as he caught the puce colour of Weasley's face from the corner of his eye. Calling Harry by his first name was one thing that would rile up the Weasel in no time.
Pansy Parkinson was already in the sitting room when Draco arrived home at long last.
"Drakie!" She threw her arms around him in a bony hug and Draco suppressed a shudder at his old nickname. It had always irritated him, but never so much now, when it reminded him of times in Hogwarts when life had been simple. But he pushed those thoughts away and allowed himself to hug her for the tiniest moment before extricating himself from her arms.
"Miss Parkinson, what a delight to see you again." He greeted his mother with a nod. "Mother. I apologize, I had no idea what time your guest was coming, or I would have returned earlier."
Narcissa merely nodded, a gentle smile on her lips that did not quite match the gleam in her eyes.
"Maybe you can go and refresh yourself, darling. Dinner will be served soon. The two of you can speak later." Draco understood the dismissal and inclined his head, though it took him some effort not to grind his teeth in annoyance. It was his house, after all, why did his mother pretend she still had any authority over him? But that was a conversation to be had without an audience, and certainly without a notorious gossip like Pansy Parkinson in the house.
When he entered the sitting room a little later, his mother was laughing at a story Pansy was telling her about some mutual acquaintance in Paris.
"And then Guillaume had no choice but to leave, tail between his legs, of course." Their laughs tingled in perfect harmony. In some distant part of his mind, he noticed how artificial it sounded. That was the way most proper Pureblood girls were brought up, learning to laugh according to a musical pattern that slid up and down the scale, every gesture and tone practised and calculated to serve its purpose. He really did prefer the artlessness of Miss Granger's laugh, or the tinkling of Mrs. Potter's giggles, or even the exuberance of Flora Zabini's laughter.
The ladies turned to greet him, and he sat down beside Pansy on the sofa, accepting a cup of tea, eager to catch up with someone he had not seen in years.
"How have you been, my dear friend? My mother tells me you've travelled the Continent extensively."
Pansy nodded and launched in an enthusiastic tale of her travels across Switzerland, Italy, Spain and France, where she had run into his mother and they had renewed their acquaintance, a feeling of kinship as English witches in the same foreign country bringing them together.
"Not that we dislike living in France, you see," Pansy smiled conspiratorially at Narcissa. "But it was nice to be able to talk about home with someone who understood."
"And of course we had so much more in common. We never lack topics to talk about, do we?" Narcissa added, a meaningful glance in Draco's direction that he chose to ignore. But when Pansy agreed, chuckling, and squeezed his knee, he thought it was prudent to sit himself a little further away from her, under the guise of placing his cup on the side table. He was very happy to have yet another old friend back in his life, but if their thoughts were going in the direction he suspected, he would have to put a stop to that as soon as possible.
"I am very pleased you found each other, then," he commented blandly.
"How about you, Draco? What have you been up to? Have you seen anyone from Hogwarts lately?" Pansy asked.
"Did my mother not tell you? I was staying at the Zabini's. They were kind enough to take me in after my father's trial. I only recently moved here when this house was returned into my possession."
"Indeed, I did not know that. How is Blaise Zabini?"
Draco blinked, surprised. Clearly the news of the accident had not spread beyond their circle. Then again, the people who did know were no gossips, or they had been confined to the Notts' home during Blaise's convalescence.
"Blaise is recovering from an accident at Theo Nott's home, actually. It surprises me you have not heard about it. He was hovering between life and death for almost a day."
Neither Pansy nor Narcissa had heard about the incident, so Draco was encouraged to tell all with more warmth and interest than he had ever received from his mother. He realised, just before he launched into the story, that he would have to mention Hermione in front of his mother, and wondered if she could remember the name. But he turned towards Pansy, kept his face in a carefully arranged subdued mask, and started explaining.
"You must remember Theo Nott and Daphne Greengrass from our school years. They married shortly after Hogwarts, and then hid away during the War. They recently had their first child, a daughter, and since Mrs. Zabini is Theo's Godmother, she went to visit them. When she came back, she told Blaise and Flora about the visit, and how beautiful the Lakes are, and Flora and the Potters concocted this mad scheme to go visit them."
"Potter? Harry Potter?" Pansy interrupted, surprised.
"Yes. I do apologize, I am so bad at telling stories. Potter and Weasley were living at the Manor, Malfoy Manor, at the time, which is in the possession of the Ministry. Potter's wife, formerly Luna Lovegood, a Ravenclaw a year below us, was friends with Miss Zabini during their years at Hogwarts, and she wanted to reconnect. Mrs. Potter and Miss Zabini spent a lot of time together, and so Blaise and I were thrown together with Harry Potter quite often. Weasley occasionally joined us, too, and Miss Granger as well, when she stayed with them." He noticed the burning stare of his mother at the mention of the name, but ignored it.
"She seemed to take a liking to Blaise," he continued, and it was like the pressure of that stare dimmed, if only slightly. "So when Signora Zabini talked about her visit to the Notts, Blaise decided he wanted to see his old friends again, the Potters and Granger wanted to join as well, and I went along, too, of course. We had a great time there, but on the last day, during a walk, Blaise was caught in an avalanche. Astoria and I barely escaped the rocks, but he did not notice what was happening in time to throw up a Shield Charm, and he was buried under a heap of rocks. I managed to get him out from under it, and we sent for a Healer. Daphne and I had to assist, it took her hours to heal all his wounds and broken bones. He was in a coma for a day, then woke up with a massive concussion. He has been staying at the Notts' house since then, convalescing. I believe Mrs. Zabini expects him home for Yule, though. He is almost well enough to travel."
The women exclaimed at all the right times, asked more questions, commended him on keeping his cool in a crisis and his amazing strength that must have helped the Healer.
"Poor Blaise," Pansy sighed, eventually. "I shall make sure I visit him as soon as he is home. I will write to his mother first, I would not want to bother him before he is recovered enough to receive visitors. And poor you." She placed a hand on his arm, stroking him gently, and looking at him with wide, admiring eyes. "It must have been such an ordeal. I cannot believe you managed all that and then still took care of Mrs. Zabini. You are so brave and so strong."
Draco sent her an uncomfortable smile and freed his arm, rising to his feet suddenly.
"I believe it is time for dinner," he said. He purposefully ignored his Mother's outstretched hand, refusing to take either lady into the dining room on his arm, and quickly walked away. He strategically placed himself at the head of the table and motioned for his mother to sit at his left hand, with a stern look, and at Pansy to sit at his right side. Narcissa pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes. Draco returned her stare with an amiable smile on his face and a challenge in his eyes. He dared her to question his right to sit at the head of the table and to regale her to a secondary place. A quickly concealed glare showed him that the message was received loud and clear, and would be answered later in full. They managed civil conversation throughout dinner, however, mostly because Pansy was an infinite source of gossip and light-hearted conversation, and Draco decided that dinners with Pansy Parkinson made his mother's presence more bearable. Maybe he should invite her more often after all, he thought, sipping his wine and laughing heartily at her stories.
AN - Next chapter... Oh dear, that pensieve... No beta so any mistakes are my own. Love to hear what you think! Thank you for all the reviews so far!