Draco Malfoy was home again. Walking into Malfoy Manor was always an experience - like a Gothic Cathedral, the entranceway was designed to intimidate, to show you that you were in the presence of Larger Beings.

But Draco had slid down the bannister of the elegant spiral staircase, too many times to remember. So, even though he appreciated the elegance, he was far from intimidated.

No one was there to greet him - he'd come from Goyle's house, at least theoretically, and there was no reason either his mother or father would put up a fuss about him coming home.

Looking in a stray mirror (provided near the entrance floo, to allow the less combobulated to freshen up), he straightened his tie, and then strode towards the gardens. His mother was often there of an afternoon - never working, but occasionally sketching or planning a new bed. She was also fond of bonsai, and though she'd never dare make a cut herself, she often bid the house elves to cut small branches off. His mother would have made a wonderful artist, Draco had thought, long ago, when he was too young to understand the demands Society laid on her doorstep.

Besides, the gardens were some of the most pleasant parts of the Manor. There was a slight loosening of formality that was absolutely demanded by the plants living there. It was hard to execute the precise bow of perfection, when you could smell lilac blossoms itching at your nose, after all.

Draco's mother was in fact sitting in the garden. She had a finger out, with a butterfly slowly waving its wings on it. Draco Malfoy approached, quietly, so as not to disturb his mother or her newfound pet. "Mother," Draco Malfoy said, "Are you well?"

Narcissa Malfoy looked up at her son, and quirked her mouth in a deft half-smile, "If I wasn't, I'd hardly tell, would I?"

"I was wondering if you'd care to take tea with me?" Draco Malfoy said, hoping that his mother wasn't having friends over. This was not a discussion for friends and crumpets!

"Of course, I'd be delighted," Narcissa Malfoy said, smiling brightly. She never smiled like that outside the house, or anywhere where family did not reign supreme. It wasn't done.

"Mipsy!" Narcissa called, and the diminuitive magical creature appeared.

"Mistress calls?" Mipsy asked, in the usual non-demanding way. She'd stand there the entire day until her mistress told her to do something else. He'd exploited that fact shamelessly with Dobby, years ago. At least Dobby hadn't had to take the drubbing for soiling all the pastries mere minutes before the start of the Awfully Stuffy Party (which was what Seven Year Old Draco had called his mum's Christmas Ball).

"Mistress calls for tea, Mipsy dear," Narcissa said, gifting the elf with a gentle smile, "Perhaps in the Solarium?"

"Of course, Mistress mine! It will be hot by the time you're there!" Mipsy bowed and darted off, in the way that house elves on a mission generally do.

[a/n: Draco, what are you up to? Leave a review, dears! The next chapter will be pastry forks and intrigue! In other words, a proper Slytherin tea.

Narcissa, poor dear, just wants to spend an afternoon with her son. They grow up so fast!]