Okay, some of you are going to be all, what's this story again? I can't remember cos the author (Stares accusingly at me) hasn't updated for a long time.
Haha okay I know I seem all MIA for a long time, but I'm really trying to write with whatever free time I have left. So this extra long chapter is a special sorry and reward to all my faithful followers( I'm beginning to sound like some cult lol). Don't worry… I'm posting another story real soon.
Meanwhile, enjoy.
Chapter Five- Narcissa and Narcissus
Narcissa Malfoy was by no means an impatient woman. The truth could not be any further from it. She was, in fact, by nature and nurture, an extremely composed woman.
To many, including her, this had been a great advantage. She never did lose her temper nor lost her head. Before others, she appeared to be a very collected woman, with no sense of anxiety at all. And, when the situation calls for it, she could choose to use all the calmness (some call it coolness) she possessed to bide her time. She, like all other Malfoys, never hurried.
Indeed she was a patient woman, but then again, she is a mother after all. Bless her, the dear mother!
She had been sitting by the fire that very night, pretending to knit all night long while in actual fact waiting for news of some sort. Her feet were preoccupied in tapping impatiently against the marble floor, something out of tandem with her normally cool exterior. Her anxious gaze kept alternating between the antique grandfather clock and the great door. And finally, after several times of repeating this routine, Narcissa could bear it no longer. She stood up and started pacing around the room. Those few house elves who were fortunate enough to witness their mistress in this anxious state could hardly believe their eyes: Their mistress was finally cracking.
Narcissa was experiencing countless forms of emotions right now. Worry. Anxiety. Excitement. Hope. For some strange reason her facial muscles would not stop twitching, and she took this as a good sign and omen.This could be the one, Narcissa repeated to herself hopefully.
She stared at the door impatiently once more, and wondered fretfully what time her son would come home.
Draco was going to be the death of her!
Narcissa did not think she was so very complex a character to understand. She always had been a simple woman (much like Hermione, our hero here). It did not take much for her to be content or satisfied. True, she had been rich and tremendously wealthy, but Narcissa never asked or took more than she needed. She rarely desired anything so much.
Unfortunately this had been one of the few rare occasions.
In her opinion, Draco had been one of her greatest trial in her life. Already at the age of three, he had been too energetic a child. Clearly her son was one of those who had a great indifference for danger and great thirst for adventure. Everyday he went bouncing up and down the entire house with a head full of questions, some of which his mother would not reply without blushing.
He happened to possess a keen sense of curiosity and would frequently wane Narcissa out with his why, why and whys. Draco was a particularly nosy child, and insisted in sticking his nose in everything. He also had a knack for getting into trouble (which he couldn't have acquired without his first two talents). By then he had already begun burning her best curtains in the house up.
Undeniably Draco had been her pride and joy, but along with this package came stubbornness and mischief. As a child Draco would stubbornly refuse to eat anything green, no matter how desperately Narcissa persuaded him to. She had wheedled and bribed and did everything she could, but the vegetables went untouched all the same.
As he grew up he would exasperate her with his nonsense, countless detentions and his unhealthy interest in dangerous sports. She was constantly bombarded by recounts of how her son managed to hex an entire corridor full of house elves by owl mail. Within the same time span, he also managed to devastate his professors with incredible amount of energy and questions they could not answer without stammering. Being playful, the prank-loving boy would also charm the entire mansion to become an incredible, permanent shade of turquoise whenever he came back for the holidays. His mother would make sure that no guests were invited during this time.
So as you can see, while Narcissa had but one child, Draco had always been one child too many. Even as a fully grown adult now, he was as mischievous and droll as before, if not worse. She still had her hands full, and though she loved the lively Draco dearly, someone else needed to take care of him after so many years—a wife.
This was the thing Narcissa wanted most in her life—for her dear playful son to get married. She had plainly expressed this wish more than once before, but Draco still remained stubbornly single. He refused to get married. Whether this was due to natural circumstances or because of the perversity in his character Narcissa did not know, but she had a sneaky suspicion it was the latter. Again and again she had begged and pleaded him, to, for goodness sake, find someone, but Draco remained unmoved. His eyes would twinkle every time she quizzed about his non-existent love life. Narcissa thought it was a phase that would die eventually, but she was wrong. Time passed and yet no girlfriend came.
She grew extremely anxious. She may be a patient little woman, but she was a mother through and through. Naturally she fell into a panic attack. She would not allow her dearest son to stay this way, nor allow her dreams to be shattered. When it came to other matters she was cool as cucumbers, but with regards to this painful matter she lost all her reserve. She also lost her head completely, and desperately flew around for help. Abandoning her image and backed only by her determination, she devised a plan to help Draco and eventually came up with a scheme.
Narcissa argued that her matchmaking plan had been fool-proof, but her son knew otherwise. Anxious to see her son attached, she proceed to contact all her acquaintances and asked if they had any eligible daughters. A long list of names owled back. She set him up with every single one of them, insisting he went out on dates on all of them.
He did exactly what she asked him to do. That ungrateful boy happily took them all out, and terrorized the daylights out of them until she received very unsatisfactory reports from many of them, if not all. Draco looked destined to be rich, lonely, good-looking and single, but not if Narcissa could help it. She remained hopeful that suitable candidates will appear soon, but at the same time her patience was wearing out.
The absence of a complete family surrounded her, and she knew that to a certain extent that it affected Draco too. Lucius' death provided an emptiness neither could fill up. She had seen, with a keen mother's eye, the solitude in her devil-may-care son. Narcissa sensed that without seeing what her son needed—companionship, love, and family. She needed the same thing once in her life too.
A daughter-in-law seemed like a good answer. That extra someone would help fill the gaps in Draco's life and love him like he deserved. She could be a companion to her too. They would become nearly, if not fully, a complete family again.
And a grandchild. That very thought seemed so very pleasant to her! It would be absolutely delightful to be a grandmother! It was a thrill that just put a very wide smile in her face. A child to play and care for, and put laughter and youth back to their lives! It was the perfect family picture. Narcissa closed her eyes and imagined a golden-haired boy beaming and hugging her. Oh, what rapture!
She was smiling dreamily even as Draco entered the cold mansion. She did not catch his amused expression nor saw him smirk at her until a moment later, when he spoke.
"You seemed preoccupied." Was all he said. She opened her eyes, still smiling. There was no need to tell him now. She would keep this a little secret till later.
"How was the date?" Narcissa asked eagerly, barely keeping the excitement out of her voice. The dream of a grandchild came floating back into her mind. She hoped that it would remain there, though she very well knew that the probability was small.
"Perfect! It went like a disaster." Draco replied cheerfully, bouncing and sinking into her sofa. He looked unaffected. Even Narcissa's blind keenness and desperation could see that.
"What did you do to this one now?" she frowned slightly, but couldn't suppress a smile a moment later. Draco's blind dates were often funny and droll, and she loved him too much to stay mad at him. She still had a sense of humour even if they weren't mostly successful. Funny though, she thought, that it was she who most often became the victim of these disastrous dates, not her son.
"I laughed at my date when she was drenched in coffee. She returned the favour by throwing her entire beverage at me," Draco explained with a look of satisfaction.
"I wonder why you can't just sit through one day without getting into trouble." Narcissa said exasperatedly.
"I couldn't even if I tried."
"Couldn't, or wouldn't?"
"Both," He answered evilly, wearing out his mother. "Now let us stop all this nonsense of matchmaking. You hadn't even greeted your son ever since he came back. You pounced on him and quizzed him instead of showering with affection."
Narcissa crossed her arms over her chest. She refused to reply. Draco was making her behave like a child again, so anxious and sulking. But Narcissa would do anything to achieve her aim, and if this works, well, so be it.
"Mother," Draco tried again. "Mother."
"I shall not speak to you until you stop devastating your mother." She replied coolly, going back to her knitting.
"This guilt tactic hasn't work on me since I was seven. It won't work now. Really, all this matchmaking schemes of yours are bound to fail. You know that." Her son said impatiently, gesturing to catch his mother's attention.
"It worked for your cousins." Narcissa frowned. "It's a tradition."
"Ah. But since when have I followed tradition?" Draco grinned roguishly, playing with the fringe of the cushions.
"That is most unfortunately true. Your professors at Hogwarts would reinforced that," She sighed, shaking her head of white-blond hair. Her son had never complied with the rules. He made sure she knew that very well.
There was no way she could win an argument against her son. She never did. But Narcissa wasn't about to give up. Her cherished dream refused to give way so quickly. She shouldn't, couldn't, wouldn't. She did, she reminded herself, see that extra sparkle in him nowadays. The one only love could inspire.
"Is it really impossible for you to find me a daughter-in-law?" Narcissa asked.
"You think?"
"Yes. But I will do anything to keep my castles in the air from crumbling."
"Your castles has no foundation as of yet."
Narcissa thought about this. "Well, then I do know a couple more lovely…" She began, but her son interrupted her.
"If it was meant to be, it will come. I am thankful for your assistance, but I really don't need help." Draco told her firmly.
The image of a grandchild vanished rapidly in her head. Narcissa felt a twinge of disappointment.
"Really?"
"Really."
"Really really, son?"
"Reallyreally, mother."
It was the end of that conversation, Narcissa could tell. She went back knitting, but kept one eye on her son as he instructed the elves to bring in some sort of beverage before picking up the papers. She could not be mistaken, surely. She was sure she spotted that extra gleam in his eyes, that radiance in him. Only love could do that. But maybe she was wrong. Friendship could do that, perhaps. Wait. It couldn't.
"Son," Narcissa suddenly blurted. The mere idea of it was terrible, her castles she so wonderfully built would crash down if it was true. "Are you gay?"
Draco looked up from the sports section at his mother, who was almost on the point of trembling. He rolled his eyes.
"No, mother," he said pointedly," I am not gay."
His mother exhaled a sigh of relief. She could breathe again. "Oh."
But what else could it be? Narcissa couldn't put her finger in it. What else could give her son that extra sparkle in him? Everything else seemed highly impossible. But then, what? Narcissa just couldn't seem to pinpoint.
This inner debate in her head went on until a house elf came back to the room, with a silver tray laden with a tea pot and several cups. Draco looked on enthusiastically, thanked the elf, and poured Narcissa a cup of strong-smelling beverage. She took it gingerly, and sniffed it.
"Coffee, Draco?" She asked puzzledly "I thought you liked tea."
"I do," he reassured her happily. "But I discovered that coffee also tasted remarkably wonderful. Try some."
Narcissa took a sip.
"It tastes good," she admitted grudgingly.
"Oh this?" Draco seemed pleased. "I got this from Hermione's little coffee house. She got this from Columbia during her trip few months back. Marvellous, isn't it?"
She nodded. Over the past few meetings with Draco she realised that Hermione was now fast becoming one of his friends. She approved of it, glad that there was someone at least, who could counter Draco in terms of wit. She enjoyed immensely hearing the quirky anecdotes about the two of them.
" Hermione said that she tasted better, but that this was really good as well." Draco continued, animation coming back to him.
Narcissa Malfoy examined her son as he chattered on and on about the coffee beans he found in Hermione's shop and how great they were. There it was, the animation in his manner. She could not be mistaken this time round. As he spoke Narcissa noticed her son beaming so brightly, radiating with such joy as he went on about how simply spectacular the coffee was. Hermione this and that. This never happened before. Not unless.
Narcissa Malfoy was startled as realization finally dawn upon her.
"Oh," Narcissa whispered softly.
An hour later, Draco bade his mother farewell as he prepared to return to his own apartment in Muggle London. Just as he was about to step out of the great door his mother stopped him.
"Tell me, son," Narcissa asked suddenly. "Are you or are you not capable of falling in love?"
"I never said I wasn't in love." Draco told his mother gently as he kissed her on the cheek. "Goodnight mother."
She barely even noticed the house was in a shade of turquoise now.
It was only after Draco left before an idea started forming in Narcissa's head. Perhaps he didn't need help after all.
Help came in the form of the most unexpected person usually. For Narcissa this had been the case.
Hermione was right now in desperate need of help and sympathy. It was not the kind of response most people would expect when they are out on a date with an eligible someone, but Hermione Granger wished it all the same.
She did not receive sympathy from either of her best friends when she told them about tonight's blind date. Ron, in particular, had infuriated the brunette by congratulating her for crawling out of that hole she had been hiding.
"About time too," he boomed. Hermione hanged up on him.
Harry? Harry had been manipulated and bullied by his redheaded buddy to agreeing that Hermione should in fact go on this date. It was hardly consolation.
And with no one to help her, she had no choice. So Hermione had put on a nice blue dress and matching high heels, done up her hair prettily in curls, and went out on this date with a frightful smile on her face, absolutely sure it would be a disaster.
And she was right.
Oh to be sure, the restaurant had been nice. Really nice in fact, that Hermione made a mental note to bring her friends here soon to try it. The food had really been superb, and her new blue gown had surprisingly no stains on it. But the company had been excruciating.
He looked pretty decent, and Hermione admitted that he looked almost handsome. He had brown hair and blue eyes. He was smart too, for he mentioned only three times about how he had graduated from Harvard.
But did he ever stop talking about himself?
"Did I mention how my professor complimented me once for my astounding research I did on stem cells?" Harvey asked her smugly.
It was eight thirty only, but Hermione had already regretted agreeing to this date six times (coincidentally, the same number of times Harvey talked about his debonair appearance). She never met anyone like him before—thank goodness.
Narcissistic. That was the only word Hermione could use to describe him. She was almost sure he would kiss himself if he could.
In an effort to keep herself from nodding, Hermione had idly toyed around with the Cajun chicken on her dinner plate, hoping her date would notice her lack of enthusiasm. Harvey however had been too engrossed complimenting himself to realize that. She even caught him admiring his reflection from his wine glass once.
She was slightly annoyed, and Hermione could not help but blame certain people for this disastrous night. It was, of course, her Aunt Polly's fault for giving such a ridiculous suggestion to her parents and compelling them to succumb to her ideas. A blind date—how cliché was that? She had no idea how her aunt could have such a ridiculous notion.
"Don't you think, Hermione?" Harvey finally concluded, taking a sip of his coffee and looking at her expectantly. He seemed to be waiting for her to almost kowtow to him in awe. Hermione gave him what she hoped look like an appreciative nod, and he continued on.
If Hermione was gifted in anything, it was in the fact that she had infinite patience. She could stand reading telephone book-thick literature. She could sit through six hours of lessons without going crazy. She could even stand listening to Professor Binns going on and on about goblin revolution without being hypnotized to slumber. But this… Well, it was pure, excruciating torture.
Listening to Harold (or was it Harvey?) drone on was bringing out the worst in her.
Somewhere out there, she knew her parents were laughing over the idea of her being set up by their aunt. And they did absolutely nothing to stop it. In fact, they found it highly hilarious.
"Have fun on your date," her father had told her when she last saw him, winking.
She would wring Aunt Polly's neck for matchmaking her with someone so pompous and egoistic, but her clueless aunt would probably set her up with another person again.
The urge to bang her hand on the table returned as her date ploughed on about how incredible he was, which was, by the way, fast becoming 'their' favourite topic. Hermione fervently prayed for a miracle.
If there really was a Merlin, she thought, please please please give her the miracle she had been wishing for all night.
And just like that, Merlin gave it to her.
There are nine chandeliers. Sixteen candlesticks. Four Prada handbags. One hundred and fifty two chairs. Hermione was pretty sure she counted everything that was quantitative in the room. But the date, amazingly, has not ended yet.
"Excuse me?" said a voice, interrupting her date's analysis on why he is so perfect.
Grateful for any distraction, Hermione turned to face her saviour with thankful smile on her face, only to receive a rather (pleasant, anything would be pleasant at this point of time) surprise.
Draco grinned back mischievously, obviously enjoying the turning of the tide. Her date looked irritated at the interruption. Hermione tried to mimic his expression, but her heart leapt for joy.
"What?" he demanded impatiently, with the exact air that reminded Hermione of Percy Weasley talking to the twins.
"You must be that really smart Harvard graduate my grandfather was talking about," Draco said aloud. Harvey (or Harold?) looked more nettled at this comment and a satisfied smile graced his face.
"Oh?"
"He accidentally overheard you talking to this young lady—" Draco gestured towards Hermione, "About your research paper. He is very interested to discuss more with you. Said something about it being pure genius."
Hermione's date suddenly perked up. "Of course I am very interested," he said eagerly, rising from his seat, moving to the far corner of the room which Draco had jerked his head to. An old bored-looking man sat there, and Harvey quickly headed towards him, happy to indulge in more self-praising to more audience. He didn't even bother to excuse himself from Hermione, but she couldn't care less.
Thank goodness. She let out a relieved sigh as she sank back into her dining chair.
"Quick!" Draco urged Hermione when he was out of earshot. "Escape before it's too late!"
Grabbing her hand, the both of them ran like hell out of the restaurant.
"What," Hermione asked breathlessly as they walked along the streets of London after that fiasco, "Was that all about?"
"Be grateful Granger," Draco chuckled. "I just saved you from Narcissus."
"And I owe you eternally for it."
"That bad?" he asked sympathetically.
"That bad," she confirmed.
"I just returned the favour I owe you. You saved me from my matchmaking session, if you recall."
"Well, you saved me from hell. For that I am in debt to you," she told him, smoothing her hair down. The cold wind was picking up.
"We are even then?"
"Definitely."
They continued to stroll along the hard cold cement pavement silently, not bothering to make conversation. Draco was deep in thoughts. Hermione was busy planning who to murder first. And apparently she was done with her decision-making, for she spoke out at last.
"I'm absolutely going to kill Ron," Hermione suddenly burst out. "Can you believe it? He actually called up my aunt—using a Muggle phone, mind you—and told her that he fully supported her decision to matchmake me with someone!"
"I bet the expression on your face then was priceless," the blond man laughed.
"His exact words. He would do anything just to see my jaw drop." Hermione said bitterly, kicking a stray pebble on the ground forcefully.
"Well, at least I cut your misery short with my spectacular save just now," Draco replied complacently, mussing up his fine hair with his right hand. "Although I did debate whether I should let you get tortured more for that little stunt you pulled during my blind dates."
"It wasn't intentional. I just enjoy seeing you squirm," Hermione smiled evilly. The memory of Draco looking so uncomfortable was hilarious.
"Ditto, ditto," laughed Malfoy.
"Who was that old man you sent him to?"
"Harvey's next victim." Draco replied playfully.
"How long do you think he would last?"
"Five minutes, if he's deaf."
"How did you know where my date was?" Hermione asked curiously, wanting to know every detail of this fiasco-and-escape story.
"Who said I knew?" He answered cheekily. "Perhaps I'm just everywhere." Hermione rolled her eyes, not bothering to deflat his ego. After all, he did saved her.
They walked on for another minute, chatting about the latest misadventures in Muggle London. Draco made a very good case about whether Eva Longoria was really pregnant.
"It couldn't be," he protested. "Look at how hot her body is." Hermione secretly agreed with him.
A minute later they passed a cheerfully bright convenience store. Draco excused himself, claiming he wanted a drink.
"From Seven-Eleven?" she joked. "What's wrong with Butterbeer?"
"Rescuing damsels in distress can make one thirsty," he chuckled.
Hermione watched as he walked away and stepped into the convenience store, thinking about what he said. There was truth, she admitted, in his words. She didn't exactly tell him the details of her date tonight. Yet he seemed to be everywhere she went by pure fate. Their first meeting in her café. That time in the bookstore. In Mr Bennet's tea leaves shop. Several times on the street. They never arranged to meet even once before, and yet, it was he out of all her acquaintances that she has been seeing most frequently.
Perhaps that was fate, she thought, smiling as she watched through the window pane as Draco paid for his purchases. She couldn't help but think how cute he particularly looked then, even under the terrible fluorescent lights of the store. He looked funny too.
Perhaps it was because she still wasn't used to this side of Draco yet, but the sight of him doing something so non-magical was so refreshing. She wouldn't mind seeing more of it.
"You are right," Hermione mused as Draco offered her a can of soda a minute later, when he strolled out of the store.
"I always am." He chuckled, wiggling his eyebrow.
"I will humour you this once," Hermione said, examining the brand of the soda. "What I actually meant was what you said earlier on."
"What did I say?" he asked, curious.
"About you being everywhere." She told him, pulling the tab off her soda without spilling any of it. She took a sip. It tasted like Vanilla.
"What about it?" He questioned distractedly, struggling to pull off the tab of his drink.
"Don't you think it's weird? Us bumping to each other all the time?"
"Do you?"
"It's strange to believe such chance of accidental meeting can exist." She told him. "But I think it's lovely that the world still has something like that left."
"You seem to believe entirely too much in coincidence," Draco winked at her as he popped open his can of soda. The fizzy drink burst right onto his face. Hermione laughed.
He scowled.
Hope you enjoyed that. Haha some parts seem a little rushed too me, but I had a hard time amending it to make it sound decent… Reward me with a review or two?
I rather like the idea of introducing Narcissa Malfoy into this story. It makes it seem more quirky and real somehow. I am rather fond of her character really—it's always fun to have someone who is suppose to be all cool and calm being all panicky about Draco. I'm starting to like this version of Narcissa very much—the mother.
I think we will see us welcoming her or Prudence Bennet back next chapter