I know I said before the end of April, but that did not end up working, so I opted for as soon as possible. That ended up being now, so here you are. Stop complaining. Please.
The newest chapter is a Draconetwork!Chapter- all Draco Malfoy, all the time! I know you've been dying to know what happens to him during the vacation. Or, not dying, but wanting to know at any rate. Now you get to find out.
The Negative Side
If Lucius Finds Out
Draco awoke on Christmas morning with no joy in his heart, or in his house. His father had ceased to celebrate Christmas in the wrapping-paper-and-decorations sense a few years before. That meant that the rest of the household had as well. Draco suspected that Lucius celebrated Christmas by torturing some anonymous Muggleborn or disgraced "blood-traitor", which meant that the rest of the household turned away and said nothing. It disturbed him, but he was not even sure that it was true.
He planned for a quite lonely, uneventful Christmas. He knew that his father intended to have their purposeful, important discussion that night, but he also knew that it would be quite lonely and uneventful. His father spoke, he listened, he signed a paper… that was the way it usually went. Nothing about that excited him the least bit.
He decided that he would eat a real breakfast on Christmas, which he would probably pay for by having no appetite for lunch. However, he requested that the house elf Stubby bring a tray of lavish breakfast foods to his room, which the elf did with genuine enthusiasm. Draco was much more pleasant than Lucius or Narcissa, especially when dealing with house elves. Stubby was generally in charge of serving Draco when he was home.
Having not dressed for breakfast, or bothered notice what had been unpacked, Draco surveyed his wardrobe and bureau. He was shocked to find a small package, covered by plain gold paper, sitting on top of his bureau.
"Stubby," he called, though he knew the elf was right there, clearing away his leavings.
"Yes, sir?"
"Where did this come from?" he asked.
"Why, from Master's luggage, sir. Did Master not put it there?" the elf responded nervously. Though Draco was the best of all the Masters and Mistress, Stubby still might get into trouble.
"No. It's all right, though. Don't worry about it, just finish with that stuff." Draco forgot about the house elf as he picked up the unexpected gift for inspection. There was no card attached, but he ignored all the warnings he had ever heard of "if it is not labeled, it must be considered to be a trap from an enemy" and ripped the paper eagerly. He had more true friends than ever, making it more likely to be a real gift.
As it turned out, it was a real gift - and a simple one, unlike anything else he owned. He opened the box to find a small, flat pendant, with a stylized representation of an angel with a sword. It looked like someone one might buy in a museum gift shop. It was not even attached to a chain.
After a bit of inspection, he found that there was a message written on the inside of the wrapping paper: Draco, I am not even sure why I bought this. I wasn't planning to get you anything for Christmas, but I saw this pendant and felt that I should give it to you. You don't have to wear it or even keep it. It was nothing but an impulse. Hermione.
Quite a flattering impulse. Draco closed the box and placed it in the top drawer of his bureau. He could find a suitable chain later in the day, or at least after he had put on some clothes.
He was just pulling on a shirt when someone knocked on his door. This was an unusual occurrence in itself. Lucius would send for him, and never came to his room, if he wanted a word. Narcissa barely had contact with him at all. House elves came to his room mostly when he called them, and so rarely knocked. Therefore, he was slightly perplexed as he asked, "Who's there?"
"Narcissa. I would like a word," came the answer.
Despite the surprise that might have numbed him a bit, Draco knew better than to keep his mother waiting. He opened the door for her immediately, to be confused beyond anything he had imagined. Narcissa stood before his room, an amiable smile on her face. More stunning still, the smile was genuine.
"Did you want something?" Draco prompted, not wanting to subject himself to such an awkward situation anylonger than necessary.
"Yes, Draco. I would like you to have tea with me this afternoon. Two-thirty, in my personal sitting room. I hope you do not already have plans?" she said jokingly.
His mother had come to his room, smiled, and made a joke all in the space of a minute. Draco shook his spinning head in answer.
"Good. I will expect you on time, then," she said, and turned to leave. Before she had gone a few steps, she looked over her shoulder and added, "Oh- and don't tell Lucius."
"Of course," said Draco. Once she had turned a corner, he closed the door slowly. Any sudden movement, even if it came from him, might startle him at that moment. Why must my world continue to shatter?
A diligent, ten-minute search rewarded Draco with a thin, finely crafted silver chain. He removed the pendant from its hiding place in his bureau and strung it on the chain. He examined it for a moment before slipping it under his shirt. It was a tasteful pendant, but of course he would expect no less from Hermione Granger.
Now that he had a gift from her, he felt almost guilty that he had not bought her anything for Christmas. This holiday was celebrated so thinly by his family that it had not even crossed his mind. Maybe he could overspend for her birthday to make up for it. He made a mental note to ask Harry whether Hermione's birthday was coming up.
Until tea, he had very little to do. He started on the three-foot potions essay Snape had assigned for the vacation. He liked Snape, really, but three feet on the uses of bat wings could be called nothing but overkill.
Two thirty was neither slow nor fast in coming. Time passed normally, though at times it seemed slower due to frequent glances at the clock. Draco was nervous, but only because he had no idea what to expect. Narcissa had suddenly become unpredictable, and he could not decide whether that was good or bad. He mentally compromised that he would know that by the end of their meeting. However, that would not be for another few hours.
As time wore on, and noon passed with Draco deciding not to eat, he was shocked by his feelings. Normally he would have been most unaware of them, but certain interactions had changed that. He was too used to having friends around; in his mansion, with no one but Stubby for company, he was incredibly lonely. He even missed Harry Potter, though he would have denied it as though his life depended on it if anyone had asked. He was friends with Harry, by this time, but he did not have to admit that he cared.
Blaise had always been his friend, since long before Hogwarts. He realized that he missed him more than he usually would, now that they were part of such a close group. Not being able to send letters was not helping. Draco acknowledged that he probably was not missing much where Blaise was concerned, since he would be spending as much time as possible with Ginny Weasley.
It was Hermione's absence that bothered him the most. Even if she did not fully trust him, she did share with him some of her deepest secrets - such as her parents' separation. No one else knew, so she had said. That confidence made him feel better about their relationship. It gave him reason to hope she might actually come around and admit she wanted him again.
But did he really want that? The last time he had started to feel close, he had cut and run. Of course, it was only the initial reaction, before he really had time to consider the options. Still, it was not completely unthinkable that he would do the same thing again.
When two thirty came at last, Hermione was driven from his mind by the curiosity toward his mother. This audience with Narcissa would be, to say the least, interesting. Without quite realizing where he was, Draco found himself knocking at the door to his mother's private sitting room.
"Come in," he heard, and opened the door with a discreet deep breath.
Narcissa sat on an immaculate leather sofa, wearing a lovely set of purple robes. She gestured for him to sit, which he did somewhat warily. He knew that she was trying to put him at ease, but that only caused him to be more tense. She smiled while he took his tea.
"I do not mean to be rude," Draco said, since she had not spoken, "but you have never asked to talk with me privately. What is this about?"
"I do not suppose you would believe that I wanted to see my son at some point during his stay?" she asked. His expression evoked a sigh from her. "I did not think so. Though you will find this hard to believe, that was part of the reason."
"Really?" Draco blurted out, before scolding himself. Malfoys do not blurt.
"Yes. I admit that there is a more pressing matter, but it has been so long since the two of us have had a moment. I do not even remember the last time I hugged you." Draco only stared. He did not know how to react. "When you were a child, I spent every hour with you. I used to sing to you, when you were just born. Then you started to grow older, and your father ordered that all emotional ties be avoided. He did not want you to become the kind of person who would be concerned with others. So I stopped mothering you. That broke my heart, but I did it."
"Why?"
"For the same reasons you do as Lucius tells you, I suppose. It is a bit different for me, though. I am not even sure that I could survive the world without wealth, whereas I am certain that you could. You have other means of living, but I do not. I have no real friends."
Draco felt instantly saddened for Narcissa. "You have no friends?"
"No. The only thing that has kept me from breaking through the years has been you. My son." She reached out a hand to touch his cheek. "You have become so handsome. You were the most beautiful child, and I had hoped you would not turn out to be an average man. My hopes have been met. I can be glad for that, if nothing else."
How is it possible that a moment of tenderness could cancel out fifteen years of coldness? Draco did not know, but that is what happened. The connection that mothers share with their sons blazed back into life - back, because he knew it must have been there before. In the instant when she touched his cheek, he finally knew love.
Remembering that she had brought him there for a reason, he cleared his throat and said, "I am happy to know this, more than you can imagine. But I do believe there was something else you wanted to tell me."
Narcissa sat back, adopting an eerily somber look. "Your father has asked to see you tonight, and he is going to sign over your share of the estate, the remainder of which you will inherit when Lucius dies. I wanted to speak with you before that happened. This is something that I feel you should know."
"What is it?" Draco prompted, worried that someone was using a spell to eavesdrop on them.
"You do not know very much about me, Draco. Death Eaters tend to leave you alone if you never speak out against them and are married to one. I fit those qualifications, but I never became a Death Eater myself. I bear no marks, like those who gave their will up for power, wealth, or fear."
"I never agreed with these beliefs. Why does it make any difference what kind of blood one has, as long as the magic is there? It is the magic, not the blood, that makes us witches and wizards. I have often wondered how this kind of belief originates, and how twisted one's mind has to be in order to truly agree with them."
Draco nodded. "I know exactly what you're talking about."
"I know how dangerous it would be for me to openly oppose Voldemort. I live amongst his followers; everyone I know is an Eater. I have my own way of fighting them. Part of that is through you. I wanted to make sure you did not follow Lucius's ideals. He wanted to send you to Durmstrang, but I knew that if you could be under the supervision of Albus Dumbledore, you would turn out right. I had hoped that you would become friends with Harry Potter, but that plan did not go so well. I am glad that Blaise ended up siding with you, to give you an ally."
"This is quite surprising," Draco said, tilting his head to one side. He should have guessed it. There was something about her eyes every time Lucius mentioned the Dark Lord at table. Something disapproving and depressed.
"You must be careful, Draco. Lucius does nothing without a reason. Most of his actions are to benefit himself, and the rest are to benefit Voldemort. He will have other aspects of this plan of which you will not be aware until it is too late, if you displease either of them. Because you cannot truly know their plan, you must create your own. You must be cautious and tell only the people you trust most, if anyone." Narcissa sounded worried, and well she might. They both lived in a dangerous situation.
Obeying his impulses, Draco reached over and hugged his mother. He felt her arms go around him, and a sense of fulfillment gripped him. That feeling, at least the memory of it, would stay with him for the rest of his life. "Thank you," he said.
As they pulled out of the hug, Narcissa grasped his upper arm. Her gaze went directly to his neck. "I do not remember you wearing any jewelry."
Draco stiffened momentarily, but relented after a moment and drew the pendant from within his shirt. His mother took it in her hand and appraised it. She looked into his eyes when she had finished. "A gift?" she inquired. Draco nodded. "I assume the person who gave it to you is someone you consider to be special."
"More or less," Draco answered, not wanting to be too obvious.
His mother smiled, an action that warmed Draco's heart even more. "Who is she?"
Draco glanced about, suddenly nervous. He felt he could trust his mother - she would not lie to him about so many important things at once - but no one else. "Are you sure it is safe?"
"This room has been spelled against eavesdropping for years," she said. "Tell me."
Within seconds, Draco discovered himself eager to tell Narcissa about Hermione. He left out a few details for the sake of time, but included her blood origins. Narcissa seemed open to everything he said. "I am happy that you have found someone, even if you are not together at the moment. Do I have to warn you to be careful again?"
"No, I know what it would mean if Lucius finds out about this," said Draco with a slight growl. His father seemed to ruin every good thing…
"You may already know why I have called this meeting," Lucius began. "However, I will tell you, for the sake of clarity of purpose."
"Good idea," said Draco.
"Of course it is. Now, I have here," Lucius rested his hand on the table beside him, "a magical contract, which you will sign. It details the terms under which you will take over your portion of the estate. I assume you will read it before you sign."
"Yes, if you have no objections." Draco knew that his father would not deny him the right of reading his own contract. Lucius knew that Draco would sign the contract no matter what was on it. It was more beneficial to Draco to know the exact contents of the binding statement. He gently snatched the parchment his father handed to him and began to read.
As he perused the lengthy contract, Lucius spoke of matters in which he was certain that his son was interested. "Lord Voldemort is still considering whether changing the minimal age to be inducted into his ranks is the best option. Some think that such young people are nothing but children, and should not be granted such a privilege until they have shown that they can handle it. It was adversely pointed out that certain individuals of this age classification have already proven themselves, and that it would be useful to include such individuals within the inner circle. Not too many, of course, lest teachers grow suspicious, but enough to be effective."
Draco emitted a sound which indicated that he was listening. Anything more might have been taken as an interruption. Lucius nodded in approval.
"I believe that the most genius of all the Dark Lord's recent plans is the idea to change the Dark Mark." At that, Draco glanced up. He had heard the rumor, but details had been concealed. This information could be vital for those with whom he had recently begun to fight. "Only the Dark Lord himself knows where the idea originated, but the credit will rightfully go to him regardless."
Lucius leaned forward, more menacing than Draco had ever seen him. "When the appropriate adjustments have been made, only those who have a Mark will be able to see it on others. That will make it much more difficult for outsiders to identify us. Those who have the old version of the Mark will have the alterations done on it."
The threatening look in Lucius's eyes told Draco that if this information left that room, he would pay for it. Not that that would stop him. He turned his gray eyes back to the contract, continuing his reading. He did not want this meeting to last all night.
Startled, he nearly dropped the contract. Draco met his father's eyes. "In the event of my death, all of my estate goes to the head of the Parkinson family?" he exclaimed in shock.
"Yes," replied Lucius, devoid of emotion. "They are the most reliable of all the people to be considered." Draco could not deny that his father was right - for his purposes, at least. It was not as if one could leave anything to Voldemort in a will. The Ministry would never allow that.
Sighing, Draco finished reading. None of it mattered. Once he was clear of the manor, he had his own plan to change the contract. This new contract would suit his own preferences. He hoped that he would be able to keep his actions hidden from his father until the right time came to reveal them.
Lucius passed a quill his way. Blank-faced, Draco accepted it and signed at the bottom. He was now in possession of sixty million galleons. That was the sum of his inheritance, excluding properties and investments.
Lucius took the contract and banished it to some safe drawer. He leaned back in his chair after he had put away his wand. Draco wanted to leave, but he could not do so until Lucius had given his permission. It was clear that he intended no such thing until he was finished with what he wanted to say.
"I have been meaning to talk with you about a certain matter that has us concerned," said Lucius. The moment he said "us," Draco knew that he had reason to worry. He waited for Lucius to continue.
"I want you to tell me whether you believe Blaise Zabini to be loyal to our cause. There have been some reports that he has been seen with Harry Potter and his friends."
Draco's heart seemed to flip over. If Lucius was hearing about Blaise, then he must have heard rumors about Draco as well. "As far as I know, the only reason he spends time with them is because of Defense class. Professor Lupin has assigned us study partners for the year, and a lot of our assignments are done with them. Slytherins and Gryffindors have class together, so there were bound to be some mixtures."
The eyes across from his narrowed. "But you still think that he supports the Dark Lord."
As ridiculous as the action was, Draco had to force himself not to swallow as thousands of worries sped through his mind. "Absolutely. Why would he not?"
Silence followed this. Lucius waved a hand in dismissal. Not wishing to seem too eager, Draco controlled every step he took until he reached the door. Before he left, though, Lucius spoke again. "Make no mistake, Draco, if I find that you are lying to me, Blaise will not be the only one in trouble."
Slowly, Draco turned his head to look at Lucius. The man sat, coolly as though they were discussing a casual dinner party, staring at him. At that moment, Draco knew that Lucius, in fact, had heard of his meetings with Harry Potter and Hermione Granger.
"Yes, sir," he muttered, and left as quickly as his legs would carry him. His bedroom was the only sure refuge that he had access to at that time. Once there, he lied down and attempted to sleep. His many new concerns kept him up, tossing in his bed, tangling his legs in the sheets, for the entire night.
The whole day after Christmas, Draco slept. He woke in the middle of the day, but had no desire to get out of bed. Letting himself drift off to sleep, he ignored the strange presence of a pale-haired, kindly countenanced woman sitting on the edge of his mattress.
…TBC…
Review please, if you're a nice person. Or even if you're not nice. Just review.
