All color drained from Draco's face at the horror Greg was insinuating.
Greg took the silence to mean something entirely different. He stood.
"I would not have laid a hand upon her," Draco reached out as if to grab the man.
The man's hand paused on the door handle, he then whipped and grabbed Draco by the collar and then pulled him to his feet. "Then tell me. How did she die? What did you do?"
"She -" his voice stuck in his throat. It took a moment, with the potion still making his thoughts difficult to control. He didn't know how she died - at least not now. He couldn't visually remember the actual event. He only had his reflections on the horrors he'd witnessed as Bella attempted to force her to perform magic. He'd removed the actual memories of the pensive viewing. The many many memories. Bella had forced him to view them on multiple occasions. He hadn't been able to move on or sleep. The summer before eighth year, after all the aurors had gone. He'd ended up spending his days on the couch, staring at an empty fireplace, drinking the manor out of firewhiskey - all the events finally catching up to him. He'd been unable to escape.
Jiffy had talked him into removing the memories of the pain away - both of war and of her. He'd relented many but kept enough to remember her, against Jiffy's wishes. He'd been able to function then and leave for Hogwarts. He'd dedicated himself to schoolwork, forcing his mind to focus. Occluding any hour, he wasn't staring in a book. Drinking when he couldn't occlude anymore. Not that it did him any good.
He was so selfish he couldn't even remember how she died. How could he allow himself to forget? How could he take that knowledge away from himself? His gut twisted. Which vial of memories had he put it in, there were so many… But he should know. He needed to know.
"Draco!" Greg shook his collar. "I asked you-" He stopped then, releasing his hold on Draco's collar. His expression softened as if realizing something. "I know," he stopped, "I know you would not hurt Madeline. I'm sorry… The shock just…"
"It's within your right as a father to ask, Greg." Draco said quietly. "I assure you; I would never harm her. I will swear on it, on my life and on my magic."
Greg's hand reached out to Vega then and touched the dragon's face.
To Draco's surprise there were tears there. Or at least the illusion of them. The colors of the dragon's face were splotched as if wet, but the actual touch was dry. It was made of wood, it could not really cry. Again, he'd forgotten Vega was even there and that he felt everything he did. He had no idea his creations could demonstrate such emotion.
The dragon pushed his head against his hip.
Draco patted Vega's head and stood straighter. "I'm sorry I don't know. I removed the memories a long time ago. I remember things, but not in detail. I don't remember what caused her death - there were many things Bella did that could have done it. I'll find out."
Greg's back stiffened. "I should have realized she would have… I'm a fool."
Draco shook his head, "With my family - it is a wonder I didn't. I would never have harmed her, but I didn't save her. I did nothing. By the time I returned home for spring break, she was gone." Draco headed toward the door.
There was a pause from Greg, before he turned too. "How would you know what happened then?"
Draco twisted, not daring to look at Greg. "She made me watch the memories of everytime she tried to force magic… Multiple times… I'm sure one of my vials has the answer… I'll just need to search for it." He turned the knob of the door.
Greg slammed it back shut. "No. You'll do no such thing."
Draco attempted to pull again on the door, but Greg still had his hand keeping it closed.
"You need to see a mind healer."
Not this again. Draco turned. "I am fine."
"Look at yourself in the mirror. Look at the way you live. You're not fine." After getting no response, he continued, "Don't go looking for the memory - promise me."
Draco pulled on the handle harder.
"Don't perform the ritual without me." Greg leaned his entire weight upon the door. "Please, promise me. I am sorry Draco, sorry -"
"They are my memories - I am free to look at them as I see fit. It has been a long time, Greg." Draco raised his gaze and met Greg's eyes. "I will be fine. I have met her spirit; she is not dangerous."
"No, you will not go into those memories alone nor will you perform the ritual on your own… Not unless you want me to tell your mother and Severus everything. And then they'd be damned to let you stay in this house a moment longer."
Draco blinked at the threat. It was the first time Greg had ever blackmailed him, ever. He looked at the man. In his eyes there was no anger or vengeance or any characteristics of a threat like Lucius used to make. Instead, there was just concern. And it was for that reason, Draco knew the man would make good on it. Pushing thoughts from his head, he released his grip on the door and touched Greg's arm - knowing that physical contact was normally used for reassurance. His hand shook though, he hoped Greg wouldn't feel it. "There is nothing you need to worry about."
"I'm not so sure of that." The man pulled his hand away from the door and out of Draco's reach. "Jiffy." The elf appeared. "Would you mind relaying a message to my wife? I will not be returning home for the next few days."
Before Draco could retort or stop the elf it was gone.
"You wouldn't do the cleansing ritual this far out. You're likely to do it within the next several days. I will not let you do this alone."
"I do not -"
"Am I your friend?"
Draco blinked; a bit taken aback by the question. "Unquestionably."
"Then stop pushing me away like everyone else." The man opened the door then. "I will deal with your mother. But only on this one occasion." The man straightened his back, pulling himself to full height.
Draco couldn't help but scoff. This was Greg attempting to alleviate the guilt he felt at making the threat. "You're going to need more than just a straight back. But you won't need to deal with her. I will."
At that, Greg laughed. "She is going to die when she sees your scars. Hopefully Severus prepared her."
Draco had an odd feeling the man had not, intending for Draco to feel the full impact of his lies. "Also - if she asks. Blaise, Pansy, and I are all still on good terms."
Greg stiffened considerably at this.
So, his mother had already asked, and Greg had already given an honest reply. His teeth clicked, "Never mind." He walked past Greg and toward the exit. Well at least he knew how this conversation was going to go.
They walked out to the garden, Draco weaving his way through the path he knew since childhood between the roses and hedges. The gazebo stood above it all. The entangling vines clutched at the marble columns as if to drag it into the earth. Below it, grass grew in patches between the marble from the ballroom he had thrown out years ago. The house elf had arranged the pieces, it looked more like a chessboard not something tossed out.
The party chatted around the table in the center of the gazebo. So drawn into the conversation, none saw their approach. Draco could hear mentions of the ghost and ritual from his location at the steps leading up to the gazebo. He had hoped Severus would not draw his mother into the details, but alas, he had. This would be difficult to tread. His head felt clearer, so he might be able to dodge his way around her questions.
He found it hard to remove his eyes from her. The wind stole pieces of her thin gray hair from a loose unfashionable braid and she did not notice. The tight sharpness in her cheekbones that had once given her an aristocratic air made her look starved. Her hands moved in a constant twisting fashion, displaying her anxiety to all. Every so often her hands drifted toward her mouth, and she'd jerk them away when she became self-conscious of the action. Other times, she'd forget, and she would bite upon the short-torn nails, nails that had once been so immaculately long and filed. Her brow would furl in disgust of the action when she noticed, drawing Draco's attention to the wrinkles that accentuated even the tiniest of expressions.
The sunken eyes looked deep in her skull from his distance. Her head looked back and forth between the speakers. Then he saw a glimpse of the woman he knew. The cold and distant stare as she leaned back with her head held high above the table. Her hands would still as she committed all the conversation to memory.
Part of him felt pride at seeing the woman he knew. If he were closer, he knew he'd be able to see the light flash in her eyes as she absorbed the information around her. There was the capable woman who could stand before the Dark Lord and take any information for her own gain and be left standing.
And then her eyes went left and met his. Pain - and a various flicker of emotions crossed her face and he could feel the very emotion in her magic. When the emotions stopped, it was the same look as when the Dark Lord had cursed him. She was using occlumency. She rose and walked toward him. The others stopped in their conversation at the movement and looked toward them.
She met him on the fifth stair. Her hands went to his face, tracing the scars.
He was glad of the potion. Very glad.
He could see the unspoken question in her eyes, the panic under the surface. The fear was back. He pulled one hand from the scars and kissed it. Letting it go gently so it went to her side. He did the same with the other. He'd missed her, missed her greatly.
He extended the crook of his arm to her as he took a step up to be equal with her. She took it and they walked the rest of the way up together. Only when they reached the top, and she turned to speak with him, did she notice the dragon on his other side.
Her eyes went wide in disbelief.
"Vega, this is Narcissa Malfoy," Draco said, introducing them. Vega had his memories; he knew who she was.
She removed herself from Draco's arm and reached out a tentative hand to it.
It brushed its head against the outstretched arm.
Her lips then curled into a smile. Her eyes shined with pride as she kneeled to look closely at the dragon. "You made this?" It wasn't much of a question. She seemed to already know the answer. She'd always been easy to please; his father never being pleased with anything.
"Yes, Vega is a guard made of sapele - it is in the same family as mahogany," Draco told her. His mother's wand wood was khaya, she'd likely feel some affiliation with Vega.
"Beautiful," she whispered, hands trailing along the scales.
Draco gave a quick glance at Potter to make sure that the man did not mess up this meeting. If he dared tell his mother about the origin of his scars…
Severus was gripping the man's shoulder and his glare was better than Draco's.
At least that Draco could be thankful for.
Vega kept an eye on Potter as well, although the subtlety surprised Draco. In fact, had he not been watching for it, he would not have noticed. His mother inspected even the smallest detail in the work, commenting on the scales and the runes in them. The level of attention she gave to Vega was a pleasant surprise.
Draco returned her warm smiles at every exclamation of her discoveries. At last, she then kissed the top of the creature's head. "What a pleasure," she murmured.
"The pleasure is mine," Vega said, pressing its snout to her cheek before drawing back.
He could feel the raw delight in her magic at the creature's voice.
"Vega can speak now too!" Professor Flitwick cheered.
His mother's emotion faded from her face, remembering there were others present.
"How-"
Severus shut down Flitwick's questions by speaking louder, "We have important matters to attend to." While his voice was stern, there was a gentleness in his tone that Draco hadn't heard since he was five. The black eyes drifted to his mother when he spoke, the gentleness was for her benefit. The black eyes shifted to him, and the tone became slightly sharper. "It will only take a few moments of your time, if you can spare it."
The man felt slighted at the fact he hadn't gone and greeted them. He felt like sniping back but thought it best to let it go for his mother's sake. She looked like she could use any friends she could - even Snape. He motioned them back to the gazebo. "Please, be my guest."
Her mother's smile shined upon him, but the solemnness never left her eyes. Her gaze still penetrated his scars.
They all sat back down in their chairs. They'd left the head of the table open for him, and he took it. He found it hard to draw his eyes away from his mother but turned his gaze to Severus.
The man was watching, waiting for his attention. When he had it, he spoke.
"We haven't made any progress with the release ritual. It was sealed with parental blood, which means it would require the parent's blood once more to release it," Severus' voice seemed a bit distant.
He could feel his mother's discomfort from across the table and out of the corner of his eyes, her hands rose toward her face.
"Have you thought of Sir Francis's runic theory?" Draco asked, attempting to find out how deeply they'd investigated.
"Yes," Filius said then, "I'm afraid we've been through quite a few theories, and in this case - the Sethcoria ritual is fairly binding." His eyes seemed very somber. "Hermione, the poor dear."
Draco dropped his eyes, attempting to look somewhat distraught. He let the emotion show only for a few seconds, too much and he would look like a fraud. He straightened his back and looked back toward Severus. "There must be something."
"We've all poured over this," The headmistress spoke, taking a long sip of tea. "Every Hogwarts professor has given their time to look into this from all possible angles. Even old Horace tried to think of a potion we could use to trick the seal. I'm afraid Hermione is stuck here." Her gaze while piercing, was full of sorrow. "I realize you did not intend to do this. But I do ask that you attempt to accommodate her and attempt to…" her voice dropped off as it began to shake.
Draco could feel the loss in her voice, her emotion pushing at his magic. He could almost identify her thoughts with the feeling. She saw her house, as her own children, having no blood ones of her own. The feeling of protective love mixed with pain. It almost overwhelmed him; his right hand gripped the arm of the chair under the table. He could feel the pain it brought, so like his own.
The woman looked much older now than when she towered over him as a child. Her hair turned white from the stress of war and responsibility.
His mother looked to be about to speak, but he spoke instead. He didn't know what his mother thought of Hermione. It had been a long time since the war, but she likely hadn't changed in her views. The last thing he needed was for her to say something about exorcism. "Of course. We will make sure she is comfortable… and as happy as possible given the situation."
The old woman's gaze relaxed and while she said nothing more, he could feel the emotion of gratitude.
"We'd like to speak with her," Severus said. "I think it best if we broke the news."
"Of course," Draco stood. "Please follow me, she is in the library." The most direct route was through the ballroom, he had no intention of taking them that way.
He paused for his mother, once she stood to stand and took her hand to lead her down. He could feel it more than see that she wanted to say something. As they crossed the yard she finally spoke. "Is this the marble from the ballroom?"
The wind almost carried away her voice, but he could still hear the dread in it.
He looked down at her face, but she was looking away. There was no point lying about it. "Yes, I have been renovating the manor."
"It's a bit extreme." Her nose pointed into the air, gaze looking at the manor as if she'd lost something important.
But if it made living in it bearable? Instead, he squeezed her upper arm. "In a few days, I'll show you the ballroom. You'll love it."
She turned her face toward him and looked up. Her wrinkles moved as if she was trying to make her eyes wider. They scrunched upward instead, curving against her forehead. "Why not now? We are on our way to the library."
If she was distressed at the thought of moved marble, how would she feel of the ballroom being used to carve coffins? He positioned his hand over hers. "Mother."
"Draco." Her tone hardened, like when she had finally made up her mind on something about his father. "Let us go through the ballroom, it is a much faster route."
He didn't like uncertainty, and he hadn't had enough time to assess his mother mentally. She'd just been released from Azkaban, he wanted her nowhere near the room. He squeezed her hand. No. He tried to be subtle for her sake.
"Why not go through the ballroom?" her voice raised, and it did exactly what he did not want.
Other eyes now watched the two of them.
