They brought Draco home just a few days later, the Manor wards shifting in accordance with the newest addition to the Malfoy bloodline. They laid gently over the babe's skin, twirling with his own undisturbed magical core and humming as the bond between home and Master settled once more. The house elves stood at the ready, waiting to greet their youngest Master. The Manor was almost exactly the way that they had left it, but now a faint undertone of drying paint hung in the air; it was the only sign that the Manor had undergone renovations to accommodate the newest charge. The house seemed brighter with the addition of the newest Malfoy, the hearths were light and the flames burned bright and true, a testament to the love that was already felt for Draco.

The elves scrambled when the Manor door opened, each wanting to be the first to greet their newest charge, pushed forwards by the movement of his kin, it was Dobby that stood at the great white door. He stood rigid, wringing his hands together. His already large eyes were wide as the door swung open.

"Welcome home Master, and Mistress. Dobby and the others have been waiting for you, yes they have."

The house elf flinched back as Lucius stalked past him and the others, his head down and ear pointed towards the ground. Narcissa heaves a sigh as the backside of her husband disappears towards the rest of the Manor, likely he was headed to the study.

Four days since their son's birth and Lucius had been swamped with work the entire time. She did not hold it against him; however, she knew how important his job was to their standing in the Wizarding Community. That did not make it any easier to swallow however.

Naricissa moves to follow her husband towards the rest of the Manor, well aware of the stares of the house elves. She does not make it a step before a gurgle halts her. Looking down she notices that Draco has his hand reaching out to the house elf that greeted them as they walked into the Manor.

Dobby.

Her son makes another gurgled noise, his small hand closing and opening repeatedly. The creature is still looking down even as the other elves are trying to get a look at Draco's face.

She does not understand her son's interest in the creature before her, but she will not deny him his curiosity. Instead she turns to one of the elves that are currently clamoring near her and Draco.

"I require a chair, one the is suitable for myself and Draco."

The moment that the request left her mouth she could hear the distinct pop of an elf leaving the room to fetch her the required chair. Dobby had looked up momentarily, his wide eyes catching her own before forcing his head back down. His small body shaking with minute tremors. On the other hand, the elves that had stayed after her request were all mouthing the name of the newest charge, awe decorating each of their faces.

No sooner did she shift Draco's weight in her arms did the elf return with the chair that she asked for. It was wooden with arms, with a plush cushion for her to sit on and plush on the arms to soften the weight of her son.

With a wave of her in thanks, she gratefully sat down alleviating the pressure to her already sore legs and back. As soon as she and Draco are settled she looks at the cowering elf. She does get to call his attention however, due to their new position Draco only has to stretch slightly within her arms before his small hand taps the downturned head of Dobby.

The poor creature startles at the sudden touch, his head snapping up to meet Draco's soft grey eyes.

"Dobby is not meaning to be in the way, Mistress and little Master. Dobby will be getting away now, Dobby will punish himself most grievously for being in your way, Mistress." The creature bows his head once again, his body shaking.

Draco wrabbles at Dobby, his small hand still reaching out towards the house elf. Nariccsa gives her son a small smile before shaking her head at Dobby. "No need for that. Raise your head, the newest Malfoy would like to greet you properly." She inclines her head to the rest of the elves that surround them still, "you all as well. Come closer and greet him properly."

"This," she shifts slightly so that the elves can get a better look at her son, "is Draco Malfoy. He will be in your care from now on. I accept that you all will do your best to ensure that he is happy, of course." The elves all nodded in agreement, aside from Dobby who continued to stare at her son.

All it takes is another gurgle from Draco, his small hand still reaching out for Dobby for the elf to crumble and reach his own hand out as well.

Narcissa can feel Iris in the back of her mind, the soft purr that comes from her does not startle her although she does send back a questioning hum to her companion.

'Your little one is special, indeed, flower. I've never seen a kit call to another that was not blood so soon after their birth, especially not before their own Waking.'

Narcissa sends another questioning hum through their bond while staying focused on her son and the way the elf in front of her moves slowly as though he is preparing to be scolded for coming near Draco at any time.

'Of course you haven't, this is the first child I have ever had after all.'

Amusement is sent her way along with the feeling of wind on her face, the aderlinaline that courses through their veins during a hunt.

'We have always been one, my flower, even when you were not you and I was another. Even in times long forgotten. He is a special one, not even the greatest of you kin called as he does.'

Narcissa can feel as the scowl begins on her face and only smooths it out once she notices the fact that Dobby has begun to pale and drop his hand as he takes glances at her. Instead she sighs and inclines her head to him, an indication that he may continue.

'He is an elf.'

'And you were once nothing more than human with no magical prowess to your name, they at least have that over you do they not?'

'But-'

'But nothing, my flower. Would you deny your son a part of what calls to him for your own ideals? Would you do that to him?'

The unspoken would you be like your mother hangs in the air between them, and that is all it takes for Narcissa to drop it. She does not agree with Iris, not entirely, yes she wants her son to be surrounded by whatever his soul calls to him but an elf? Her son deserved more, someone better, someone purer, someone-

No, she had to stop thinking like that. Her son would not have reached out to him if he did find him worthy. And if her son finds him worthy then she would too. It may take her time, but she would not rip her child away from whomever he wishes to close to. She was not going to be like her Mother.

With that in mind, and Iris gentle reassurances, she leans forward, bringing Draco closer to the one that he has called to.

Naturally the skittish creature tries to take a step back, but the crowd of elves around him does not allow him to go far.

"Dobby, this is Draco Malfoy," she waits for elfs wide green eyes to meet her own. She goes to continue but then takes a glance at the surrounding company and grimaces. "If your name is not Dobby then I request that you leave us and not come back until I call for you."

She is answered with various squeaks and multiple pops before the room is filled with only her, Dobby, and Draco.

"Mistress, Dobby is being sorry for having come so close to the Young Master. Dobby did not mean anything by it, he promises."

She does not try to placate the elf, knowing that her words would be meaningless to him. Instead she continues on with her original point. "Dobby."

"Y-yes, Mistress?"

"This is Draco Malfoy," she repeats for a third time. "But, he is much more than just the Malfoy heir, do you understand?"

At the elf's hesitant nods she continues, "He is my greatest treasure, I adore him with all of my heart." Dobby nods once again, not sure what this has to do with him. "My dragon is very special however," at this she narrows her eyes at the elf. "What I am about to tell you, you are not to tell anyone else. Not a soul, not Lucius, not any of his friends, not even the other elves. Do I make myself clear?"

Dobby's wide eyes fill with fear but he nods anyway.

A smile graces her lips even as Iris nips at her subconscious for fearing the poor creature.

"He is very special, but that means that sometimes people will want to harm my darling one. I cannot have that happen. He called to you," she falters here, unsure. "I do not know what that means for him or for us, truly, but I do that he calls to you. So, I ask of you, please stay by his side."

"The Mistress wishes for Dobby to serve the Young Master?"

"In a way." It is not quite right, not quite what her son will want as he grows, but that is an issue for a later time. Right now all that mattered was that Dobby agreed.

"Of course, Mistress. Dobby is living to serve the Malfoys. Dobby will serve the Young Master."

She knows that the elf doesn't quite understand what she asking of him, but figures that what he knew was good enough for now. She would explain more as Draco grew and called to Dobby and herself more. For now she smiles at the house elf.

"Thank you, Dobby. Now then, let's go see your new room, little one."

With that new thought, Narcissa rose from the plush chair and walked past Dobby. Leaving the elf and chair in the Manor entrance.

For a while that is how it went. Lucius was often called away to work, but he spent every spare minute that he had with Narcissa and Draco. He complained often about the amount of work that he had to do due to the incompetence of the other workers, truthfully he loved his job but the amount of time that it took away from his growing family left a slightly bitter taste in his mouth.

Narcissa for her part did not mind the fact that he was away often. Draco filled the loneliness that she felt stuck in the large Manor on her own and while Lucius was away, Narcissa took the time to get Iris and Draco well acquainted. Draco seemed to adore the corporeal fox, making noises and grabbing her much like he does to Dobby.

The elf had taken what she had told him seriously. Lucius paid no mind to the name of their elves so it was easy for Dobby to dedicate himself to Draco. He came when Narcissa called to him, and took care of Draco on the rare instances that she was called away from the Manor. The Young Master had grabby hands and a curious nature so the poor elf's ears and nose were often victim to Draco's surprisingly strong grip.

Draco was a quiet babe, grey-blue eyes always shifting to take in the world around him. Narcissa spent much of her time just walking him around the Manor, showing him the gardens and the peacocks. They preened under her care and attention, but they were enamored with Draco. Fawning over him anytime she brought him outside, and following her around even pecking gently at her hells - something that they had never done to her before- when they wanted to have a closer look at Draco. He would squeal as they got close, their tails fanning behind them.

It is when Draco is a year old, celebrating his second Hallowe'en that things begin to change. The sun rose on the Manor, illuminating into a pure alabaster that shimmered under its rays; it crept into the Manor through the arching windows. Lucius was home, cooing at the way that Draco wobbled after his mother.

It was a good day for the Malfoy family, Draco had begun to form together loose sentences. Much to the annoyance of his father, Draco's favorite word was 'mama' which he said every few moments. (His second favorite was 'iris', Lucius figured that Narcissa had read Draco a plant catalogue and promptly ordered some Irises to be planted in the Malfoy garden.)

He called to Lucius on occasions, but mostly Draco prefered to stay in the company of his mother.

(Lucius did not pout at that fact, no matter what his darling wife said otherwise. And he most certainly did not tear up the first time that Draco turned to him and called him 'papa.')

But as dusk drew the day closer to a close, Lucius' face twisted in pain, a hiss drawing past his lips. He hurries to assure Narcissa that everything is okay, before he disappears into his study clutching at his left forearm. She watches him leave the Manor's living room, her mouth set into a frown. The Wizarding War was still ongoing, and Lucius could be called at any moment to leave and join the battlefield.

(She could not help the bitter thoughts that they should have left the War behind once Draco was born. They had enough power with Lucius' job in the Ministry and the Malfoy name, along with both came more than enough money that not even Draco's grandchildren would have to work.)

Once Lucius is gone from the room, Narcissa turns to where Draco has taken to watching a little ball that she had charmed to continuously change seasons. (He likes fall, and spring well enough but nothing compares to the way his eyes light up at the sight of snow. His squeal the first time a snowflake touched his nose is one of her fondest memories.

Naricssa knows that it was foolish of her but she hopes that it would be the last call - the one that signified the end of the war. One that declares that their side had risen and became victors. One that promised no more fighting, that would allow Draco to grow up in the world that he deserved. Or at the very least she hopes that it is not yet another summons. The war has gone on for far too long and she does not wish for Draco to lose his father before he is truly even old enough to know him, nor does she wish to lose her husband. They may not always agree, but he is her love. She is not sure how she would handle it if he was stolen from her.

But she knows that there is no use in dwelling in possibilities. Lucius is in his study, and it is getting late. With a final glance towards Lucius' study, she scoops Draco up, smiling at the squeal and the soft 'Mama!' that followed after.

"It's almost time for bed, little Dragon."

Draco pouted at his mother, "but Mama-"

"Ah,ah, no buts. If you're a good boy will you get changed and Mama tucks you in then maybe you'll get a prize."

At the mention of a reward, Draco's eyes light up. Without an ounce of hesitation, he twists in her arms, most likely searching for his father. Once he has confirmed that Lucius is not in the living nor anywhere that he could see, he turns back to Narcissa.

Leaning forward with a look of focus on his face, he whispers to her. "Does that mean you and Iris will sing to me tonight?"

Laughter rings in her mind, Iris' joy can be plainly felt across the bond that they share. There is no stain across the bond nor does it drain her magic as much when Iris becomes corporeal. She winds around Narcissa and Draco easily, her tail resting on Narcissa's check while her nose nuzzles into Draco's cheek.

"Oh little Dragon. Of course we will sing to you. But wouldn't you rather your reward something more like a new toy? Or some candy perhaps?"

"Draco, little one, we already sing to you every night. Surely there must be something else you want?"

Narcissa would give him anything that he asked for, as would Lucius, and she is sure that Draco knows this. But even she is surprised at the request that comes from Draco. She figured that he would ask for some chocolate frogs or for them to go out for the day. Instead, he asks for something that has already been a tradition.

Draco makes a small noise that echoes through the halls as they walk to his room. His nose is scrunched up and brows furrowed. "I want you to sing to me, Mama. Please?"

Iris licks his cheek, a trill sounding from her throat. "Your mother is correct, though, we already sing to you. Unless you have a special request for tonight?"

"Can I?"

"Of course, little dragon. What would you like us to do?" Narcissa answers in lieu of Iris.

She smiles as her son nuzzles into Iris, a comfort gesture, and one that Narcissa knows she should break. But watching Draco and feeling Iris' joy at the gesture has always stopped her hand. She does not want to take that away from either of them.

She does not repeat her question, nor does either she or Iris pressure Draco into answering. Much to Lucius' displeasure, Draco was turning out to be a quiet and non assertive child. He had his moments of sassiness and occasional playful aggression - typically when Iris was chasing him around the Manor backyard while Lucius was away - but overall he enjoyed quiet and simple things.

It is when she pushes up his door that he finally raises his head, although he still does not speak. His walls are soft grey tone, stars shimmer on the wall next to his bed to form his name sake.

He speaks only when she sets him on her bed and moves to his dresser to gather his pajamas. Iris has stayed with him, moving to curl around his neck much like a fur scarf.

"..Not in the Dreaming." Draco's voice is soft and barely audible even in the silent room. Narcissa grabs his son's night clothes and makes her way back to the bed.

"What about the Dreaming, dear one?"

"I want you and Mama to sing to me-"

"And we will, Little Dragon."

"-but not in the Dreaming."

Oh.

Narcissa shares a look with Iris. For as often as Iris reminds her, it is easy to forget that her son is very sensitive to the Dreaming. She has memories of her own mother singing to her in the Dreaming, but if it weren't for Iris, she would have never known that those moments didn't happen in the waking world.

Narcissa sets down the clothes beside Draco before kneeling down in front of her son. He is looking at the ground, refusing to meet her eyes. She sighs softly before tapping his chubby knee.

"Of course we'll sing to you. Inside or outside of the Dreaming, whichever you choose."

The smile that she receives outshines even the brightest star in the night sky.

It takes no time at all for Narcissa to dress Draco in his night clothes, but she takes special care to tuck him into bed and places his two favorite toys next to him: a plush dragon and a silvery fox.

He is asleep before their song is finished, and while Iris has followed him into the Dreaming and she can feel their pull, she has her duty as a wife to go check on Lucius. She presses a soft kiss to Draco's forehead before leaving the room.

Night has fallen but still the moon shines through the Manor windows, illuminating her path towards Lucius' study.

She finds him there hunched over his desk, his left sleeve rolled up. The mark that has bandied him since he was a young adult is no longer black against his pale skin, but rather a faded semi-grey. His face is pulled taunt and there is sweat beading down his forehead.

His eyes snap up to hers when she walks in. His gray eyes are bloodshot with pain, and faint tear streaks shine on his cheeks. His eyes are hard when they meet her own, and that is what makes her steps falter.

"Lucius?"

"Lord Voldemort is dead."

The amount of relief that fills her at those words makes her feel guilty. But she believes it for the best, honestly.

She can not tell him this however.

Instead she grimaces, "What are you going to do?"

"What Malfoys have always done: survive."