Harry followed Malfoy through various hallways and corridors. Snakes, dragons and other cold blooded creatures had found their way into the architecture; their heads making silver doorknobs and their interlocked bodies forming archways.
Harry hadn't seen this part of the house last time he'd been there. His skin crawled at the memory, but he pushed it away.
They found the dining room downstairs. Malfoy, who hadn't said a word, said 'sit', before vanishing through a door at the opposite end of the room.
Harry didn't sit. He was nonplussed. There were no windows, and the portraits tittered and whispered.
"Shut up," he said loudly, and they went quiet.
Malfoy was being unusually civil. Harry remembered the letter he'd received from Narcissa. While the circumstances were more than unusual, Harry was curious to see her. He trusted Malfoy when he'd said he didn't know why Harry was there - Malfoy had never been a good liar. And Narcissa had saved his life. That didn't make her a good person, but..
He threw himself into a chair, exasperated. His head still hurt and his stomach churned.
10 minutes later, Malfoy returned with a platter of looked like a kind of golden omelette, as well as two smaller plates and cutlery.
"Don't you have house elves to do that?"
"Of course we do."
"But why-"
"Mother prefers it when I cook," said Malfoy icily.
"You cooked this?" he asked.
"Obviously."
"And you expect me to eat it?" asked Harry, raising his eyebrows.
Malfoy's eyes flashed.
"It's not-"
"No, it's not poisoned, or drugged, and I didn't spit in it." Malfoy sighed heavily. "I don't want to get arrested any more than you want to be here."
"You don't think kidnapping me will get you arrested?"
"I don't know how you got here," said Malfoy shortly. "I can attest to that under veritaserum."
"But can your mother?"
Malfoy shrugged. "She'll do what she wants, I can't stop her."
"You really have no idea?"
"She's not crazy, Potter. She'll have her reasons for bringing you here, and they won't be as awful or evil as you probably think."
He cut some omelette for himself then, with none of his usual elegance or arrogance, pushed the tray down to Harry. "Eat," he said, "you look like crap."
"What on earth does she think she's playing at," Draco stormed as Potter followed him into a living room. He dropped himself into one of the armchairs and glared at Potter. What does she expect me to do with him?
"She'll know what to do with you when she wakes up," he said flatly. "Sit down."
"No," said Potter, crossing his arms.
"Fine," Draco snapped, and then after a moment he added, "You could be waiting a while."
"Why should I trust you?"
"You probably shouldn't," said Draco, stupidly, but the underlying curiosity to Potter's tone had him thinking. "But it wouldn't be the end of the world if you did."
Potter laughed at him and he chided himself silently. He wasn't very good at this.
"Are you trying to manipulate me?"
"No," Draco lied. He sighed and drummed his fingers on the armchair. Right now, he hated his mother. He'd sent a house elf up to get her. He rubbed his temples.
"You're a Death Eater," said Potter.
"I was," stressed Draco. He moved his left arm to his lap, uncomfortable. "It's not like I wanted it."
Potter snorted.
Draco shrugged, but he was annoyed. "I don't know what I wanted. But I have to grow up," he said, trying again. "I don't have my father to rely on anymore."
Appeal to his empathy, he thought. Good. I can do this.
"Your father made his choice."
"Under duress." Draco waved his hand. "But you're right, maybe he would have made the same decisions anyway."
"You're agreeing with me?"
"I don't have the luxury to hate you anymore." Again, Potter's laughed annoyed him. "It's not like I have the luxury to do anything right now," he added quickly, "except pander to the Ministry and babysit my mother. I can't leave the house without death threats. We get howlers every day. I nearly lost a finger last week to a cursed letter. But absolutely, this is what I wanted. No family, no friends, and Harry fucking condescending Potter standing in my living room."
Draco, you're an idiot. He wanted to sink into the chair. He wasn't good at this at all.
Malfoy was a Death Eater. That was simple - that was easy. But he wasn't really, was he? He'd been tortued and manipulated. He'd been scared. Harry wondered if he still had the mark under his shirt.
Harry needed to talk to Narcissa. He believed Malfoy when he said he didn't know why Harry was there, and he didn't think Narcissa would do anything to jeopardise her freedom. The Malfoys were cowards, and the world was against them.
"Malfoy-" Harry started, but Malfoy stoop up, ignoring Harry, his eyes looking past him.
"Hello mother."