"Draco, darling!" Narcissa exclaimed, pulling her only son into a hug.
"Mother," Draco murmured into her neck.
Releasing him from the hug, she held him at arm's length and studied her boy. Draco had lost weight since his last visit. There were dark circles under his eyes; his shoulders drooped with the weight of the world. She could see he was troubled, and frowned slightly at the faint lines etched around his mouth. This was not the appearance that a Malfoy should present! It was that Potter boy's fault that Draco had come to look like this.
Pasting a smile on her face, she met Draco's eyes. "I'm so pleased you've come to visit," she said, brushing a wayward lock of hair from his temple, her hand trailing down his face. Grasping his elbow, she nudged him toward the sofa. "Sit down and we'll have tea."
She snapped her fingers and a small house-elf appeared with tea and biscuits.
"Would mistress like anything else?" asked the house-elf.
Narcissa shook her head and waved off the small creature with a graceful gesture.
Draco gazed fondly at his mother. Gone was the desperate widow from three months ago. Gone was the woman weeping almost hysterically after the loss of her husband. Gone was the immaculate witch who allowed herself to be seen unkempt and red-eyed. This was the woman he remembered from his childhood; a coolly beautiful woman, her silvery-blond hair falling in sleek waves over her shoulders, her dress one of the latest fashion, and to all appearances, the lady of the manor gracefully taking tea with her son.
"Draco?"
Draco started from his reverie to see his mother offering him a cup of tea, her hand almost the same shade as the cream-coloured china.
Draco took the cup and saucer and set it down in from of him. Automatically, he reached for the sugar tongs sugar and dropped two cubes into his tea. Although he'd never mention it to his mother, he disliked the elf-made tea. It was too bitter and it left a slightly greasy taste in his mouth; sugar made it palatable at best.
Absently stirring his tea, he looked at his mother. She sat, patiently waiting for him to speak, an amused smile on her face. He took a sip of the still bitter drink.
"Some things never change, do they?"
"What do you mean?" Draco asked, setting his cup down and resting his hands on his knees.
"You sit and stir your tea when you have something you want to talk about, but would prefer not to discuss. You did that as a child, and you still do it now," Narcissa said.
Draco smiled tiredly at his mother. He really didn't want to talk about the past. He'd always found it better to look to the future. "I suppose. Now, Mother, I wanted to talk to you about..."
"How's your Mr. Potter?" Narcissa asked, interrupting.
Draco's mouth thinned. "He's fine. Mother, we really need to discuss…"
"That's not what I heard, dear," Narcissa said, before taking a sip of her tea.
"Mother, he's fine," Draco said through gritted teeth. He didn't want to discuss Harry and the state of his love life right now.
But, mother had always been quite adept at finding a nerve and picking at it until it finally broke.
"I heard that he had Oliver Wood in your apartment with him two days ago," Narcissa said, her eyes narrowing, watching Draco's reaction to her words.
Draco's eyes widened at his mother's casual remark; he kept his face neutral as possible even though he wanted to glare at her and throw his teacup across the room into the fireplace. How satisfying it would be to see the look upon her face as she watched her treasured china shatter against the brickwork! But, he knew he didn't have it in him to hurt her like that by destroying her treasured heirlooms.
"Mother, it's not like Harry's the only one allowed in our apartment. He's welcome to bring old school friends in for a visit," Draco said as evenly as possible, all the while wondering when it was that Harry had invited Oliver in to visit.
"I've been told that they did much more than visit, darling," Narcissa said, setting down her half-empty teacup. She reached out and closed her fingers around Draco's for a moment then she sighed and let go, gently patting his hand.
"Draco, we should talk about finding you a wife."
"What!" Draco exclaimed, then lowered his voice. "Mother you know very well I have no intention of finding a wife. I have Harry."
"Draco Malfoy, listen to me, you are not a homosexual," Narcissa said firmly. "You're just going through a phase. All young wizards go through a phase where they question authority, their responsibilities, even their sexuality. Now is the time to end this experimentation and take your duties as lord of the manor seriously. You need to find a wife and produce an heir soon." Her gaze steeled at her gaze at her son. "Draco, perhaps you fail to understand what is so perfectly clear to everyone else. You do not 'have' Harry." And then she laughed, a light tinkling sound, yet cold and hard as ice. "In fact, darling, I've been told that he was in so much of a hurry to depart that he left without his shoes."
Draco sat back in his chair. He was speechless. She knew. She knew without him even telling her. Not that he would tell her anyway. But how did she know?
The smallest of smirks twitched across Narcissa's face. "Darling, you must see that his leaving is for the best. He's unfit for you. Such a lower-class wizard. He hasn't the proper breeding or manners to be with you." She reached for her tea and stirred the still warm liquid absently. "Even as a casual fling," she added.
Forcing a frosty smile of his own, Draco reached again for his tea. "Mother, you shouldn't believe everything you hear. Your sources could be mistaken."
"Darling, my sources are very accurate, and even as we speak, you have no idea where that hanger-on has gone. Not that you should worry yourself about him." Narcissa replaced her cup on her saucer and then settled back into her chair, folding her hands primly in her lap. "Now let's talk about suitable witches that would benefit the Malfoy line."
"Mother, I didn't come here to talk about Harry or 'witches that would benefit the Malfoy line.' I came here to talk about your spending and the state of the estates," Draco said, anger seeping into his voice. How could she treat him like that! His own mother! And in that brief moment as he stared at his mother, he realized that this lovely, but cold woman sitting in the wintry sunlight was more like his father than he would ever be: more of a Malfoy than he ever wished to be. He also realized that she was in her favorite element: deceit and manipulation. As paranoid as it may seem, she was probably responsible for all the problems with the manor. And the problems between me and Harry, the little voice in his head supplied.
Draco ran his fingers through his hair, willing the onset of a throbbing headache to go away. He could feel the tension starting in his shoulders and neck, tendrils of pain creeping up the back of his head. The challenge of dealing with his mother and the open wound Harry had left in his heart were making him sick. Closing his eyes, he wished she would vanish, then stopped. Involuntary magic occurred at the strangest times, and most often during stress… He opened his eyes to find his mother gazing at him coolly, her eyebrow arched as if to say, "Is there a problem?"
"Mother, have your sources also told you that if your spending continues in the manner it has I will be forced to sell the estate near Tuscany? Or that I've considered giving you the estate near Beaulieu, since I've considered moving back into the manor? Have your sources reported to you that I've considered giving up the title and letting it go to our French cousins?" Draco said, gripping the arm of the chair, his white knuckles the only outward sign of his anger and frustration. Apparently his mother had no idea that the fines from the Ministry and Lucius' neglect of the estates during his illness had reduced the Malfoy coffers substantially. He had offered to help, but Lucius had turned him down. They were no longer extremely wealthy, but on the verge of being merely well-to-do.
Narcissa lifted an eyebrow in amusement. How like his father he was! Oh, Lucius had fussed at her for her spending and threatened to sell off the estates. It must be a Malfoy trait to overreact to what was her right as lady of the manor.
Draco rose and started to move toward the door, but stopped and turned back. Leaning over the back of her chair he whispered into her ear, "Mother, you should consider what you're paying your sources. They're not worth the galleons you've spent."
Narcissa rose gracefully from her chair. Smiling, she patted her son's cheek gently. "I haven't spent a single Knut for what I've been told. My sources tell me what they do because they disapprove of your lifestyle as much as I do. Why, in fact, darling, they mentioned that you boys are a bad influence in the neighborhood," Narcissa laughed, her hand falling from Draco's cheek.
Draco stared into dark blue-grey eyes, ones so very similar to his own, searching for the least hint of untruthfulness, wishing he could see the lies within, yet finding nothing but an amused glimmer. He sighed. He was tired of these cat and mouse games and today he would end this round of deceit.
"Mother," Draco said, "choose whichever villa you'd like to live in. Any of them except Tuscany and the Manor, I don't care which. You'll have a healthy annuity to live on, but that's it. You'll have to 'make do', as the Muggles say."
Draco knew that this was the end of life as his mother knew it. She'd make a commotion about it, but he didn't care. Life was all about change. He'd changed. Harry had changed. Now it was time for Narcissa to change; for better or worse. It made no difference to Draco.
To his surprise, Narcissa laughed: a light tinkling bell-like sound. "Oh Draco, I'm not going anywhere. Until you marry, I will remain the lady of the manor. I have the same rights as your wife would have."
Draco's heart sank. He'd forgotten all about the provisions of wizard descent. She was correct. He watched her glide toward him.
Narcissa slid her arm into Draco's. "Walk with me, Darling. I'd like to show you how I've decorated the Ball Room."
Mother and son walked with linked arms towards the door; Draco managed to keep a calm demeanor, the only outward sign of anger were his tightly pressed lips.
"I think we should have a large, extravagant party when we announce your engagement. And we can even invite your Mr. Potter."
"Mother," Draco said, "I've already told you that I'm not getting married."
"Tish tosh, dear," Narcissa said with a little wave of her hand. "You will get married just like all your ancestors. Narcissa looked up into her son's face, noticed the clenched teeth and the set jaw. He was so like Lucius! Sighing wistfully, she patted his cheek, feeling the well-concealed rage underneath the cool façade. "Darling, you are so like your father and your grandfather. She gave a little chuckle. "It's not like you have to give up your Mr. Potter. Your father had several mistresses and at least three male lovers during our marriage. Why do you think it would be different for you, dear?"
Draco felt the blood draining from his face. He stopped dead in his tracks, turned toward his mother, pale and slightly shaken at his mother's oh-so-casual revelation. How could she be so unconcerned about her husband's unfaithfulness and bi-sexuality?
"Oh darling, don't look so shocked," Narcissa said. "Surely you don't think that I was lonely during those times?"
"Mother!"
A lilting giggle was his answer. "Draco dear, many witches and wizards have paramours while they are married. You can have both your cake and eat it too, as the saying goes. Mr. Potter could live in the guest house near the lake, just like all your father's mistresses did, and you and your wife could live here in the manor. I could have the west wing and be the eccentric but loving grandmother."
Narcissa frowned suddenly. Grandchildren. She was far too young for them, but they were a necessity, and that was that. The Malfoy line must continue. She'd promised Lucius, and she meant to keep that last promise. Even if it meant being called "Grandmamma."
"I don't think Harry would agree to that," Draco said tightly. He loosened his arm from his mother's. "I think I should be going now. I have to be at the shop at one." It was a lie but he'd use any excuse to escape the clutches of his scheming mother.
"Do stay a little longer," Narcissa purred, "I have a list of suitable candidates that I'd like to go over with you. The young women I've selected have the all the proper traits necessary to produce the perfect Malfoy heir." The look on Draco's face said it all. He was in lust with that damned Potter boy. She watched Draco heading toward the door, pulling on his cloak. "It doesn't have to be anything more than a marriage of convenience," Narcissa said. "Think about it won't you?"
Draco fastened his cloak; his fingers fumbling with the clasp, anger making him clumsy. Deceit had taken many things from him: a happy and carefree childhood; his father, a cunning man, taken in by the lies and half-truths of Voldemort. And now, his mother wanted him to lie to the world. He detested lies, but this was his heritage; a world of deceit and cunning. She now wanted him to use them to his advantage only as a Malfoy could. A dark flush tinted his cheeks and the roaring in his ears prevented him from hearing Narcissa's last words.
"I'll see you next week, Mother," Draco spat as he slammed the door behind him - a lie as he had no intention of seeing her anytime soon.
As he stormed out of the manor, he realized that he felt sick to his stomach. He had been lying. And he hadn't even realized it. It had been that natural and he had done it without thinking at all.
He needed to find Harry and tell him he'd been wrong. Wrong about what he had considered important in his life. It wasn't the bloody Malfoy name or the responsibilities that came with it; or even his shop, the one thing that he'd created with his own hands. The worst thing about it all was that he had lied to himself about what was really important to him; the one constant in his life for almost the past year. Harry.