Chapter Two
Draco returned in the early evening. In the several hours that he had been away, he had actually accomplished quite a bit. He had managed to gather what he needed from the townhouse - including Astoria's silver cat, Hermanito - and had sent Astoria an owl with a somewhat vague message about why he was temporarily returning to the Manor. He had also stopped by the Ministry, both to inform the executive aide in his office that he would be taking a brief leave of absence and to file for temporary guardianship of his now child-age father. Apparently, the Director of the Office of Familial Affairs had already been well-informed of the situation, since she signed the guardianship papers without delay.
Entering the front hall with a cat, a handful of papers, and several levitating trunks, Draco summoned Twitzle.
"See to it that the trunks are taken to my chambers, and that this -" He handed the cat to the house elf -"is settled somewhere comfortably, preferably away from the hounds."
"Right away, Master Draco."
"And let your mistress know that I have returned. She may find me in the study."
The elf echoed his previous response and then disappeared with a *pop*, taking the trunks and Hermanito with him. Draco, papers still in hand, made his way to his father's study, which, he supposed, was now his study. He set the guardianship papers on the desk and then turned, taking in the room. He had been in the study only a few hours before, and yet now, standing there alone, his mind was flooded with memories – of his father sitting behind the desk, day after day, drafting letters of influence; of himself bouncing on the sofa as a small child; of his father scolding him for some adolescent transgression; of himself bending over the desk as a teenager, awaiting the cane.
Suppressing a shudder, Draco walked around the desk – which seemed smaller than he remembered - and settled himself in the chair behind it. He slid the guardianship papers across the surface to him and then pulled open the left-hand drawer, seeking an appropriate folder – or perhaps an empty one – for the document. However, as he perused the folder titles, one particular file caught his eye. He removed it from the drawer and laid it flat on the desk, the contents now open to him.
He was still perusing the file when Narcissa entered.
"Well, I can see that Father hasn't disowned me yet," He quipped upon spotting her.
His mother quirked an eyebrow in amusement, which prompted him to raise one of his own in inquiry.
"Your entire life you've been forbidden from looking at your father's private files," She said with a smirk, "and yet, the first chance you get, here you are. It's like you're twelve all over again."
At her words, a memory of him as a pre-teen sneaking into the study late one night to snoop hit him. He had waited for his parents to go to bed, only to be caught by a nosey house elf that had decided to follow him. Luckily for him, the elf had only chosen to inform his mother the next morning. His father had remained blissfully unaware.
"If he didn't want me looking at his files," Draco scoffed as he studied the paper in his hand, "he should have warded them."
"He did," Narcissa said, before adding, "but only against outsiders."
The younger Malfoy's eyes flicked up to meet those of his mother. He wasn't sure what to make of that statement, considering the fact that he had regarded himself as an outsider to the Manor and his family for quite a while now, and had assumed his father felt the same.
Narcissa raised an eyebrow at the confusion evident on her son's face. "Honestly, Draco, did you really believe Lucius Malfoy would disown his only blood heir and thus end the Malfoy line? You have no idea how much it has aggravated him all these years that you managed to call his bluff on that one."
Decidedly uncomfortable with the direction this conversation had taken, Draco closed the file in front of him and laid it on the desk. "Speaking of the little terror, where is he?"
Pursing her lips, the Malfoy Matriarch moved forward and sat on the edge of the desk, peering down at her son who was still perched in his father's chair. "Draco," She began, and something about her tone immediately caught the young man's full attention. "I know that there have been years of –" She paused, searching for the right word, "tension between you and your father, but that child knows nothing of that. He is innocent."
Draco gave a derisive snort at his mother's words, but she cut him off before he could comment.
"I said he was innocent, not a saint. Mischievous, yes. Spoiled, absolutely. But he is not guilty of the actions which created the gulf between you and your father, and I will not allow you to treat him as if he is." At her final phrase, she had stood from the desk and towered over her seated son, who felt his ears go pink at suddenly invoking his mother's ire.
They stared at each other for a long moment before Draco let out a sigh. "You are right, mother. I will seek to keep my old prejudices in check when dealing with the child."
"I will not ask for more."
"Now," the young wizard said as he stood and rounded the desk, "where is he?"
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Lucius just so happened to be in the kitchen, trying to swipe a treacle tart or two from the dessert platter when the house-elves weren't looking. It was proving to be a more difficult task than he originally thought, since the head-chef elf, Rosenbabble, had a quick eye and – as Lucius had found out the hard way a few moments before – an even quicker spoon.
He waited until Rosenbabble was preoccupied with scolding two younger house-elves for adding too much pepper to the soup, and then took his chance. He had just reached up to grab the nearest tart when his wrist was caught in a firm hold. He looked up to find Draco standing over him. Narcissa stood a few steps behind the man, shaking her head in disapproval.
"Careful," The man said, releasing the boy's wrist and giving a nod in the head chef's direction. "That's a sure way to get your hand smacked."
"She already did!" Lucius said, indignation apparent in his tone as he lifted his hand again and showed his guardian the faint red mark on the back. "My father would have never allowed that. Who gave her permission to do such a thing?"
He glared over at the head chef, who was busy stirring a new batch of soup, the tilt of her ears the only indication that she was listening to the conversation.
The boy turned back to his guardian, expecting to find him angry at the house-elf's actions; to his surprise, though, the man chuckled.
"My father gave her permission." Draco said in reply to the child's question, "Because I too had a habit of sneaking down to the kitchens and stealing a sweet or two." He raised a knowing eyebrow at the younger Malfoy.
"Well, he was an imbecile." The boy said, stressing the last word as he crossed his arms in front of his chest.
Draco had to bite his tongue to keep from laughing at how much the child sounded and looked like adult Lucius when uttering that word. Turning his head away, he could see his mothering snickering behind her hand.
Returning his attention back to the boy, he forced himself to adopt a stern gaze. "Yes, well, that permission will still stand while I am here. I won't have you spoiling your supper with desserts."
He looked over the child's head at Rosenbabble, who gave a slight nod of her head, indicating that she had heard her master's words and would stick to them.
Lucius frowned and stomped his foot. "I can't have any sweets ever?"
Draco raised an eyebrow at the foot stomp but didn't comment on it. "I don't believe I said that. If you want treats, you may ask for them. You won't be receiving any right now, though."
"But I'm hungry now!" Lucius protested.
"Good." The elder Malfoy said. "Because it's almost time for supper."
"I don't want supper. I want that." The boy pouted, pointing at the treacle tart.
Draco opened his mouth to retort but was cut off by his mother.
"You can have dessert after we eat, Lucius." Narcissa said, gesturing for the child to follow her. "I'll make sure of it."
Lucius frowned, but nodded in assent. "Fine." He said as he followed her to the doorway. He turned and gave a smirk to his guardian and the house-elf chef before exiting the room.
Draco narrowed his eyes at the boy's smirk, feeling annoyance rise in his bones as the child retreated.
Just who did Lucius think was in charge here?
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A few hours later, Draco sat in one of the drawing room armchairs, massaging his temples. He had been back at the manor for less than a day and he already had a headache. Supper had been an unmitigated disaster. Lucius had refused to eat anything and then had thrown a tantrum demanding dessert. Draco had ending up standing the child facing the wall between the two windows – and then threatened to swat him when the boy went to move - while he and Narcissa had finished their meal. Lucius had returned to the table and eaten a few bites, all with crocodile tears running down his face. At his mother's prompting, Draco had given in and served the child dessert, even though, to the young man's annoyance, Lucius had not eaten anything substantial. As a boy, Draco's mother had often granted his requests for one more biscuit . . . one more tart . . . one more sweet. As an adult, he couldn't help but wonder if his father had ever become annoyed at her constant indulgence of him.
The Malfoy heir glanced up at the clock on the mantle and sighed. It was now 9:45 pm, and while Draco was not sure what time six-year-olds normally went to bed, he was fairly certain it was before 10 pm. He looked over at Lucius, who was lying on the floor playing quietly with Draco's old model Quidditch set. The child's nodding head and periodic yawns were a testament to his exhaustion.
"Lucius," he called, gaining the boy's attention, "I think it's time for you to go to bed."
The platinum-blond youth turned back to the quidditch set as he raised one hand to rub at his eyes. "Not tired."
"Come now, you can play more tomorrow." Draco said as he stood and began to move towards the child.
Lucius laid his head on his hands. "I don't want to go to bed." Draco could hear the stubbornness in his voice.
The older Malfoy released a sigh of frustration. He hardly wanted to threaten to smack the child for not cooperating, especially since the boy's exhaustion was clearly driving his emotions, but he could tell a tantrum was on the way.
"I think bedtime could be postponed for just a little while." Narcissa spoke up from where she lounged on the sofa, leafing through a store catalog. Both Malfoy males turned to her. At the look of pure annoyance that passed over her son's face, she set the catalog to the side and stood, making her way over to the little boy on the floor. "Lucius, may I show you something?"
The boy graced her with a skeptical look, but eventually gave a small nod. Narcissa extended her hand for him to grasp. "Come with me, please."
The duo exited the drawing room, with a curious and still slightly annoyed Draco following. Narcissa led the boy upstairs and down the hall to a set of double doors at the northeastern corner of the manor. Past the doors, Lucius found himself in a room he had never been allowed in before. The outside walls were completely glass, and they arched upwards to a domed glass ceiling. Lucius gazed in wonder beyond the clear panes, where he could see the moon surrounded by thousands of tiny stars. Narcissa took a seat on a bench in the center of the room, pulling the boy to sit on her lap.
"When I was a little girl," She began, "my father used to tell me stories about the stars. Would you like to hear some of them?"
The child looked up at her and nodded. Narcissa took the opportunity to pull him backward until he was cradled against her.
"Do you see that cluster there?" She pointed to a group of stars overhead, "That is Cygnus, the swan. And there, just below, is Scorpius. You can just make out his tail."
With wide eyes, Lucius followed Narcissa's hand movements as she continued. "My favorite constellation, though, is this one." She indicated a large cluster of stars almost directly overhead. "Do you know what this one is called?"
At the shake of the boy's head, she gave a small smile. "This one is Draco - the Dragon. Everyone thinks they know his story - that drivel about the Garden of the Hesperides - but I know the real story. Would you like to hear it?"
The boy nodded a second time, and relaxed further in her arms. Her voice fell soft as she began her tale. "Well, there once was a dragon - larger than any in existence today - that roamed our world, searching for hobgoblins, because, you see, they had stolen his treasure . . ."
As Narcissa spoke, the figure behind the pair was transported in his mind to the nights in his youth when his mother would tell him stories of the stars. Draco stood rigid in the doorway, leaning against the trim with arms crossed, as he ran through all the stories in his mind. Orion. Hercules. Andromeda. Sirius. Lyra. Scorpius. Ursa. He knew them all by heart. It was his mother's heritage, but it was also his - the Black blood ran through his veins as much as the Malfoy blood, and moments like these reminded him of that fact. He remained there, like a statue, until his mother finished her tale.
"He's asleep," Narcissa said softly as she turned to look at Draco over her shoulder. The young man moved forward and took the boy from his mother's arms, carefully so as not to wake him. He followed his mother as she led his out of the observatory and down the hall to one of the manor's many bedrooms.
Entering, Draco saw that the guest bedroom had been transformed into a child's room, albeit an old-fashioned one. The walls were painted a soft yellow with paintings of dragons and hippogriffs serving as decoration. At the far end of the room was a fireplace with a protective grate, and along one wall (the one opposite the outer windows) was a child's armoire, next to which stood the door for the restroom. The spacious floor was littered with various old-time toys – a rocking Pegasus, magical blocks that changed colors and shapes, ever-spinning tops, and tiny wizard and dragon figurines that would spring to life when touched. The four-poster bed stood on the wall shared with the door.
"This was Lucius' room as a child," Narcissa said as she moved forward and pulled back the cover on the bed. "When you were born, he wanted it to be your room, but I just couldn't stand for you to be so far away from us, so this room was converted into a guest bedroom. After his change, though, I recreated it for him from old photographs. Luckily, most of the toys were still stored in the cellar."
The Malfoy heir moved forward and laid the boy on the bed. The child shifted in his sleep as Narcissa tucked him in and kissed him on the forehead. "Good night, my little love."
To Draco, the sadness in her voice was almost palpable.