Chapter One
Boots treading lightly on the path up to the Manor, Draco took in the estate around him. With a lack of surprise, he noted that the grounds were as well tended as ever. No amount of financial hardship - and the family had faced plenty since the second war's end - could keep Narcissa Malfoy from maintaining appearances. It had been almost seven years since Draco had last stepped foot on the property, and yet the Manor looked exactly the same as the day he had left.
It had been an abrupt break - the competing hairline fractures of distrust, fear, and resentment had weakened the familial bond for years leading up to the culmination of the war, and they burst fully open in the weeks following Voldemort's fall, the stress of undergoing several Ministry investigations proving to be the final catalyst. Draco had blamed Lucius for their family's predicament; Lucius, broken by his Dark Lord and clinging desperately to the vestiges of his old-world order, had not taken the challenge to his own authority well. He had eventually threatened to disown his own son, a threat that Draco had responded to by leaving the Manor and not returning since.
His departure had been met with ongoing silence from his father and pleading letters from his mother. After several years, at the prompting of his fiancée Astoria, he had agreed to begin dining once a month with his mother. He had chosen a restaurant in downtown London, knowing that his father's house arrest would keep him at bay. There had been a single attempt on Narcissa's part to discuss Lucius, but Draco had quickly squelched any mention of his father by threatening to walk out; ever since, the topic of Lucius had remained an unspoken one between them. When Draco married Astoria at her family's estate in France, Narcissa had attended; his father, still housebound, had not.
Now, as he stood before the Manor once again, it appeared the long-lasting silence between him and his father might at last be broken.
Arriving at the front door, Draco paused as he raised his hand to knock. He wondered, not for the first time that day, why he was here. Father wouldn't want to see him, and as far as the younger Malfoy was concerned, the feeling was mutual. He should just turn around, and go back to his townhouse on the east side of London. But the townhouse was empty - Astoria was away in Italy, nursing a bout of ill health in the warmer climate - and Narcissa's message had been urgent, almost frantic.
Releasing a breath that he did not realize he had been holding, Draco knocked.
The large Mahogany door swung open immediately and, at first glance, there appeared to be no one on the other side. Looking down, Draco spotted Twitzle, an elderly house-elf that had served the Malfoy family for over half a century.
"Young master," The elf bowed, "Mistress is expecting young master. Twitzle is being very glad to see young master."
"And where is your mistress?" Draco asked curtly. He was in no mood to engage in small talk with a house elf.
"Mistress is in the study with Master Downdes. Mistress is asking that young master wait in the drawing room."
The young man raised an eyebrow at the mention of Downdes, the family solicitor, but did not comment on it. He merely pushed past the elf and made his way toward the drawing room.
As he neared, an unusual sound greeted his ears from the other side of the drawing room door. Laughter. Draco paused, and listened closely. After a second, the laughter started up again, and to the young man's surprise, it sounded almost childlike. He grasped the bronze doorknob and turned it carefully, quietly, so as not to disturb the room's occupant. The door swung open silently, and Draco's breath caught in his throat.
Before him stood a boy, no more than six years old. He had the same platinum-blond hair as Draco, the same grey eyes. His hair was longer, in Lucius' style rather than in the clean cut that Narcissa had preferred for Draco. Draco watched as the child played with two young hounds, hugging their necks and rolling over them as they lounged on the floor. The boy giggled in delight as they licked his face and thumped his side with their wagging tails.
Feeling a hand on his shoulder, Draco turned to find his mother.
"Draco- " Narcissa began.
He pulled the drawing room door shut with a snap, cutting her off with the abrupt motion. "Is this why you wanted me here, Mother? To show off your new heir? To disown me?"
"Draco -" She began again.
"Oh, Father must have been thrilled." Draco cut her off a second time, his voice dripping with sardonic venom. "Let me guess, Mother. What did he name the brat? Little Lucius?"
"Draco!" Narcissa's tone shifted, taking on a commanding edge that her son had not heard since his father's days in Azkaban. He turned to look at her, and they maintained eye contact for several seconds before she continued.
"That child is not my heir." She said. "And no," she added, upon seeing the look of confusion on her son's face, "Your father was not unfaithful to me."
She paused, swallowing hard before continuing. "Draco, that child is your father."
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"Mother, how did this happen?" Draco asked as he seated himself on the lounge next to Narcissa. The two of them had retired to his father's study, mainly because his mother had felt that they needed to discuss matters privately without little ears listening in.
Narcissa tapped the table in front of her once, causing a tea tray to appear with tea and refreshments. She served each of them, adding extra sugar to Draco's tea just as he had always preferred, and only when she was finished did she begin speaking.
"You know your father. He doesn't like to be ordered around by the Ministry, especially with Kingsley at the helm." Narcissa paused to sip at her tea. "Lucius did not take his house arrest well. He kept talking about how he was wasting his life. Your father had always preferred to spend his time here at the Manor, but being forced to do so, that aggravated him to the core. Oh, he tried to find activities, hobbies, to keep himself occupied during those first few years, but he was always agitated."
Draco watched as she set her cup and saucer down on the table, but he remained silent, absorbing everything his mother had just told him.
"I tried various means to soothe him - gifts, foods from his favorite restaurants, affections -" Narcissa fell quiet, as if lost in thought for a moment. She fiddled absentmindedly with her wedding ring. "Nothing worked." She said finally.
Placing a hand over hers, Draco caught his mother's attention. "Yes, but how did it come to this?" He asked.
"I'm getting there, dear." She said, sliding her hand from under his to tuck a stray strand of hair behind his ear. "About a year and a half ago, your father decided to catalog some of the older artifacts in the cellar." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "He found a secret room, filled with artifacts, and he became obsessed with one of them, a little music box. He kept talking about how it would allow him to reclaim his life. Lucius spent more than a year researching it, trying to unlock its magical properties. I thought it was a fool's errand."
Narcissa stood and walked toward the window, pausing there to look out over the grounds. When she spoke again, her voice had returned to normal. "Two weeks ago, I was walking out of the drawing room when I heard your father shout. I ran into the library - almost certain that he must have hurt himself - and I found the boy. The healers have been here, the Ministry, the lawyers." She turned to face her son. "That is, without a doubt, Lucius Malfoy in the form of a six-year-old child."
Draco, who was still situated on the lounge, studied his mother for a long moment before his eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Why am I here, Mother?"
At the question, Narcissa threw her hands up. "He won't listen to me."
"What?" The younger Malfoy's eyebrows shot up.
Noting her son's surprised expression, Narcissa elaborated.
"With you it was easy. If you started to misbehave, I would just threaten to tell your father. But with Lucius, I cannot get him to do anything. He won't go to bed; he won't eat anything but sweets; he won't put anything away. He's terribly rude to guests and makes chaotic messes everywhere he goes. And he throws the worst tantrums if I refuse him anything that he wants. I am at my wits end."
Draco scoffed. "And you honestly think he's going to listen to me?"
Narcissa leaned against the desk, her arms folded in front of her. "Apparently, he believes he doesn't have to listen to me because I am not a Malfoy by birth. He won't have that excuse with you."
The Malfoy heir nodded. He doubted that Lucius had known anything as a small child about how family lineages were normally carried on - by the marriage of people from two different households. Draco knew that both his father's parents had been born Malfoys, with his grandfather Abraxas marrying a cousin bearing his same surname. That could explain the child's obstinance when it came to Narcissa. He did wonder, though, how much of the old Lucius still remained. "Does he remember anything?"
"Only what he knew at six years old." His mother said as she crossed the room to sit next to him once again. "He knows that his father and mother are no longer here, but he doesn't have any memory of his relationship with me, or you."
Taking his head in her hands, Narcissa forced Draco to make eye contact with her. "Please stay, Draco. I need you."
Draco took a moment to consider the circumstances. His father - at least the father he had fallen out with - was no longer here. Astoria would be out of the country for at least two months. The townhouse was empty.
"Alright," He said at last, "I'll stay. Just for a short time."
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"Lucius," Narcissa said as she glided effortlessly into the drawing room, "there's someone here I would like you to meet."
The boy continued drawing on the table with his children's quill, not even bothering to glance up when his name was called. "Leave me alone," he demanded as he leaned down to pat the head of one of the hounds as his feet.
"Is that how a Malfoy behaves?" Draco asked as he entered the room and crossed to take a seat on one of the plush sofas. The line seemed almost foreign to him as he spoke it - a relic spoken by his father a hundred times, one that Draco now dusted off to use.
The child looked up at the new voice, and upon spotting the elder Malfoy, he slowly stood and walked over to sitting area.
"You look like me." He said, pointing to young man's hair.
"Yes, I do," Draco said, reaching forward and grasping the child's wrist so that the pointing finger was lowered to his side. "And you haven't answered my question." At the boy's furrowed brow, he continued, "That rudeness I saw just a moment ago, is that how a Malfoy behaves?"
Lucius stood a little straighter as he recited. "A Malfoy's behavior always demonstrates good breeding."
"Correct." The Malfoy heir nodded. "And is being rude to your hostess considered good breeding?"
"No," the boy almost sulked as he said the word. Looking up, he eyed Draco suspiciously. "Are you a Malfoy? A real one, I mean." With the last line, he gave Narcissa a sideways glance as if daring her to object.
The young man took the boy's chin in a firm grip and turned his head forward so that they were eye to eye. "I am absolutely a real Malfoy, and you will show me - and every member of my household - the proper respect. Do you understand?"
Lucius nodded - well, as best he could with Draco holding his chin - but at the man's raised eyebrow, he vocalized his response. "Yes."
Draco's grip on the child tightened ever so slightly. "Yes, what?"
"Yes, sir." The boy quickly amended.
Giving a single nod of his head, Draco released his hold on the Lucius' chin. "I am Draco Malfoy," He said, reclining on the sofa and laying an arm across the back. "You may call me Draco." He understood immediately why the boy's eyes widened at the statement. Draco wouldn't have dared as a child to call his father by his first name, but he couldn't think of any other suitable titles for his boy-child father to call him.
Lucius inched forward so that his knees bumped against the sofa cushions. "Are you going to be staying here?"
"I am, and I am going to expect you to behave properly. There will be no more late bedtimes, no more sweets for meals, no more tantrums, and no more destructive behavior, including -" Draco withdrew his wand and flicked it once, causing the boy's ink drawings etched into the wood on the table Lucius had been sitting at earlier to disappear. " - drawing on tabletops. And I expect you to mind me and any other adults placed in charge of you."
"And what if I don't? Mind you, I mean." Lucius asked, an edge of challenge lacing his voice.
Draco leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he looked at the child. "Then you will receive the same fate as any other naughty child. You will be punished." He paused just a moment, assessing the boy for any signs of defiance, before asking, "How did your father punish you?"
The child looked past him toward the door, and Draco turned to see his father's cane resting in the umbrella stand by the threshold. The Malfoy heir cringed. Turning back, he did not miss the way Lucius fidgeted nervously at the sight of the brutal instrument.
"I don't believe the cane will be necessary." Draco watched as the boy visibly relaxed. "That said, I will not tolerant misbehavior from you. If you do not behave, I will find other ways to discipline you. Do you understand?"
"Yes." The child said. At the man's stern gaze, he responded properly. "Yes, Draco."
"Very good." Draco replied. "You may continue your drawing." He nodded toward the table, and with a flick of his wand, a roll of parchment appeared next to the quill and inkwell. "On paper." He added pointedly, giving the child a look.
As the child scurried over to draw, Draco stood and made his way over to Narcissa, whose eyes were pensive as he approached. He spoke softly, so that only she could hear him. "If I'm going to stay here, I need to take care of some things. I will return after a while."
He had just reached the door when Narcissa spoke. "You know, you remind me so much of your father sometimes, especially the ease with which he handled everyday matters."
Draco paused, but didn't turn to look at her. "Really, Mother, there's no need to insult me."
And with that, he departed.