A/N: Sorry for the slight delay, let's get in to the nitty gritty not so pleasantness. No Hermione in this one, but she'll be back next chapter.
Draco stepped from the fireplace onto the dark wooden floor and exited the travelling room with his bag still slung over his shoulder. The house was silent and despite its size and evident lack of inhabitants, it was a stark contrast to the usually quiet sounds emitting from various areas like the house elves cooking and tidying or even his mother's extensive music collection emanating from a record player. Reaching the foyer, he glanced up the grand staircase and peered down the hallway to the drawing room, but still he was only greeted with silence.
"Hello? Mother?" An audible 'pop' from his left momentarily startled him until he found himself looking into the large soft blue eyes of his mother's personal house elf. "Poppy." He greeted her happily with a smile.
"We is very glad you have returned Master Malfoy, sir. Miss Patricia from the hospital is coming back tomorrow." She answered with relief, her hands fidgeting at her sides as she looked at him with a concerned expression.
Sensing the elf's desire to get straight to the point and bring him up to speed on things at the manor, he dispensed with the pleasantries. "What's been happening? I haven't had a chance to look over the healer's letter but I imagine she didn't include details."
"It's the Mistress, sir, she's acting very strangely."
He began taking the stairs, the small elf at his side. "Is she still having long bouts where she zones out and forgets where she is?"
Poppy's ears flapped a little as she nodded in confirmation. "Yes, sir. They're much worse. She has the night terrors too, almost every time she sleeps."
"Has she been taking the sleeping draught prescribed by the healer?" Her head drooped as she remained silent, avoiding eye contact with him. "Answer me honestly, Poppy." Draco urged, pausing on the landing to watch her carefully.
"We been trying, Master Malfoy. All the elves. Honest. But Mistress doesn't always wants to take her medicine and she screams at us that we is trying to poison her! Which we isn't. We would never!" Her voice resembled barely more than a squeak but Draco could discern enough to kneel in front of her, hands on her tiny shoulders until she settled.
"I know you'd never try to hurt her, Poppy." He sighed, sitting back on his haunches. "How often does this happen?"
"Every few nights."
Draco ran a hand tiredly over his face, replaying the healer's words over in his mind. She'd stressed his mother's condition could grow considerably worse but he'd hoped beyond measure she'd been wrong. It appeared he no longer had scope to wish for things to improve and instead was forced to face reality.
"Anything else?" Even wanting the answer to be in the negative, he knew he had to ask regardless.
The small elf leaned in and whispered in a hushed tone as if they were conspiring. "She sees things."
"Like hallucinations?" The elf nodded firmly and he pinched the bridge of his nose. The healer had undoubtedly seen one of the episodes and become far more concerned, prompting her to contact him. "Alright, where is she right now?"
"The sun room, sir. Poppy must warn you, sir, she's very unresponsive today."
Draco unceremoniously dumped his bag into his room and tugged off his robes before heading back down the stairs and towards the back of the mansion. "How long has she been in there?" He asked before crossing the threshold into the now darkened room, all natural light from the outside world having long faded.
"Since after breakfast, sir. We was going to take her up to bed shortly."
Draco nodded in understanding, leaving the small elf outside the large double doors as he strode in without any sign of hesitation, even though his stomach was churning something awful. He immediately spotted her thin and rather frail figure in the large wicker chair by the floor length window. Lighting a passing candelabra to illuminate the room better, he took in her expressionless features and withered hands placed delicately upon the armrests.
"Mother? It's Draco."
He took up the chair across from her but she made no sign of acknowledgment as she kept her gaze trained on a point far off in the distance outside. Reaching over, he placed his pale thin hand over her withering grey one and for the briefest of moment's those once bright and lively eyes now glassy and empty met his own. Draco held his breath, waiting for a greeting or a question or any sign of recognition. Too soon the moment was over and she returned her stare to the glass windows and away from his concerned expression. He'd experienced this plenty of times before although it was never any less unsettling.
After Lucius Malfoy's execution Narcissa had drastically retreated into herself and when her house arrest had really begun, that was when Draco first noticed her vacant looks and lapses in time. He may have physical scars but his mother's ran far deeper. When the terrible nightmares started causing her to scream in the night and fear going to bed at night, he'd contacted a healer at St. Mungo's that specialised in victim trauma. That healer was Patricia Wells and she had remained as Narcissa's key healer as time passed and her condition had started to deteriorate. To say Draco didn't know her overly well was accurate but he did in fact trust her judgement and she had always shown his mother kindness despite the family name and involvement in the war.
Burying his face in his hands, Draco peered up at the sound of tiny feet pattering across the floor toward him and Poppy smiling up at him sympathetically. "Take her to bed." He stated softly, standing and departing the room in a matter of steps. It was the familiar walk up to his room in silence that made him shiver. The walls felt like they emitted dregs of death and made him feel sick. He despised this building with every fibre of his being but his mother refused to move anywhere else and the healer suggested it unwise to do so against her express knowledge and will.
Running on automatic, he changed and readied for bed, crawling tiredly under the all too familiar sheets. He could feel exhaustion nagging at the edges of his mind but he lay awake for hours wondering if he'd hear his mother call out in her sleep but hoping beyond measure that she'd sleep soundly. His mind was plagued with thoughts of possible conversations with Healer Wells the following morning and he tossed and turned most of the night.
The following morning was a stressful blur. When Narcissa had woken close to mid-day, only an hour before the healer was to arrive, Draco had been hopeful she was having a better day until the hallucinations started and he was challenged to deal with her anxiety attack. He'd barely managed to calm her by the time Patricia stepped from the floo and entered the living room behind a ragged looking elf.
Ordered to leave the room, although politely asked, Draco took to pacing the hall outside as his mother was subject to varying tests and asked a series of questions. Benley, another of the mansion's elves, lingered on the stairs awaiting an instruction from his master or even hoped to provide some reassurance to the Malfoy heir. His attempts were only met with a thoughtful hum from Draco until he jerked his head up at the sound of the parlour door opening. The bleak expression on her face sent his shoulders slumping.
"Mr. Malfoy, I'm glad you took my advice in returning."
"Will my being here help her?" He asked desperately, hoping it may be the easiest solution. His education may be important to him but his mother's health meant a great deal more.
"I'm afraid not. In certain episodes she forgets almost everyone around her. I've observed her unable to recognise her own personal house elf that I am told she's known since she married into the Malfoy family." Draco swallowed thickly, nodding for her to continue. She softened, taking a step closer to him. "It's my professional opinion that your mother needs around the clock observation and care to ensure she doesn't endanger herself or anyone else."
"She can't be that bad. I mean I understand she's not fine and she has limited chance of recovering, you've made that clear. I'm not being naïve here. Surely it's not severe enough for the measures you're proposing?"
"Elves are very skilled Mr Malfoy, but your mother needs treatment by healers. She's even attacked Poppy on occasion and refuses to take her potions to aid her condition. She's a skilled witch and unfortunately that makes her dangerous."
He scratched at the back of his neck, mulling over her words. "What are you suggesting exactly?"
"I believe she should be admitted to St. Mungo's. You are of course able to seek another opinion; a senior healer from the hospital will also evaluate her before official transfer papers are drawn up. In her current condition, you are legally responsible for her. The decision ultimately rests with you."
Draco could feel his skin heating, no doubt some colour rising into his starkly pale features but he was far too practiced at a strong façade to allow this woman to see his nervousness spiralling into fear. This was his mother, he loved her beyond measure and now he was faced with sending her away and in actuality, admitting she was no longer sane. He wanted to crumble under the weight of the decision but he knew without a doubt he was the only one who could and would make the right choice for her.
A/N: Back to updating on Tuesdays!
