Chapter 11
Anxiety twisted in Draco’s gut as he stood outside the Manor gates. Would the wards allow him in if his father disowned him? Or did his father only disown him by name and not paper? Did he have enough time to turn around and leave?
No.
Draco steeled himself and let one hand press against the gate, feeling the wards against his skin they tingled and granted him access. Draco took a deep breath and opened the gates, pushing them open and making his way up the drive to the front door. He rapped his knuckles on the black wood, feeling nausea begin to trickle in as he wasn't sure what to anticipate when the door opened and when it did… it wasn't what he expected.
Not at all.
His mother stood before him in lavender robes, small swirling silver designs adorning it. Her blonde hair was left down falling gently around her shoulders and she looked absolutely more regal than needed for afternoon tea with her son.
Draco actually felt under dressed seeing how he was wearing a soft charcoal grey knitted jumper and a nice pair of black slacks and dragonhide boots.
What was more shocking was that behind his mother in the entry hall were the beautiful abstract pieces of art that were hung on white walls and it looked as if additional windows had been put in to allow for more light. There were pedestals with vases of flowers that brightened the entryway, and he could almost see the renovated sitting room to his right either the door ajar.
His mother gently took him into her arms and hugged him tightly, Draco hesitantly returning the embrace and trying to remember the last time he had received a hug from his mother.
“Darling, you came,” she said softly, pulling away and resting a frail hand against his cheek and Draco thought in passing how she looked so much older yet so young at the same time.
“Yes, mother, I did. I thought we had some things to discuss,” Draco said in a formal tone.
“I would imagine we do. Come, Draco, I've set us up for tea in the conservatory. It's charmed to stay warm year round,” she said, removing herself from him and turning heel to begin walking further into the Manor. Draco trailed behind her, taking in the differences in what was once his childhood home. The black marble flooring stayed, but gone were the portraits of Malfoy ancestors peering down and sneering at whoever might pass. Bright and colourful works had replaced them, full of landscapes and fauna that roamed from frame to frame. There were two portraits towards the end of the hall, one of himself at the age of 10 and one of his father who stared at Draco hauntingly as he averted his gaze. His mother finally pushed open a set of French doors that opened to the conservatory, the winter sun shining through the glass dome that was the ceiling.
There were numerous different flowers and plants that sprawled everywhere in the room, some even climbing up the glass dome and hanging down lazily. There were vibrant colours and different scents that floated through the air as a butterfly fluttered past him and settled onto a lavender bush off to his right.
“Mother, this is beautiful,” Draco supplied, feeling his nerves setting in a bit more as she led him to a small white table with small floral patterns painted along the edge and a glass tabletop and two white wicker backed chairs with the same floral design. In the table was Draco’s favorite tea set as a child that had a delicately painted galaxy on the teapot itself that twinkled and the cups that had different constellations and stars painted on that would glow softly when they were picked up. The two cups that his mother set out were of Sirius and Draco.
“I've had assistance from Andromeda over the years to maintain it. Her and I started reconciling after your father was sentenced to life and I was on house arrest. She would come visit often with Edward and we started tearing everything out that wasn't already taken for reparations by the Ministry. It was a little easier once I was able to leave the Manor and Andromeda suggested I seek employment from the flower shop in the muggle village her cottage sits on the outskirts of,” Narcissa said, gracefully taking a seat in one of the chairs and pouring the tea into the two cups, adding a splash of milk and two sugar cubes to each. Draco took a seat as well, reaching forward to grasp his cup, letting the warmth seep through his hands.
“The flower shop? Why did you work, mother? Despite what the Ministry took, there was still plenty left over from fathers investments and the black vault,” Draco asked, taking a small sip of his tea.
“Andromeda said it would be good for me to get out of the Manor and interact with others. She was quite right, must I say. I was spending my time pacing the halls and waiting for her to call and it gave me the socialization I needed seeing how it's not as if any of the wives of Death Eaters wanted to speak to me and It's not as if your father can hold a conversation by this point. Besides, he was quite furious with me after I told him he was no husband of mine after he drove you away,” Narcissa said matter of factly, taking a sip of her tea before setting it down and taking a bite of a cucumber and cream cheese sandwich.
“You told him what?” Draco breathed, chest tightening, “Mother it wasn't just… I couldn't stay here where I couldn't even get a job…”
“Dragon, I know you had to leave. I could see it in your eyes, I just perhaps wish you would've spoken to me while you were away in France,” his mother said softly, seeming so small.
“I was so angry after the war. I was angry at father, I was angry at you, I was angry at everything. I blamed you for not doing more, for not protecting me when that monster gave me the mark,” Draco set down his teacup before continuing, “I was angry I was raised to believe the rubbish of muggleborns being less than and after going to France I learned about a muggle man who did the same thing decades ago against another religion. I was angry. I believed in it and I hated that you lived in the denial that Father would make it better,” he finished, feeling the pricks of anger spike in his brain.
“I know, darling, I should've tried. Maybe we could have escaped and gone to France or I could have sent you away long before that. Perhaps I could have left your father after you were born, but I didn't. I didn't protect you, Dragon, and I’msorry because all I want is for my only son to be happy and safe,” Narcissa breathed, tears reflecting in her pale blue eyes. Draco reached forward and grasped her hand delicately.
“I just needed time,” he started.
“I will give you more time if you need it. I wouldn't be able to forgive myself if I pushed you away again,” she said softly, rubbing her thumbs over his hands.
“Mother, you must know that me coming here is me trying,” Draco said, not being able to meet her eyes at that moment.
“I know, Draco, and you have every right to be angry with me because I… I didn't protect you as much as I could've. I did what I thought was right and it cost me my son in the end.”
“But what about your husband?”
“Lucius is no husband of mine and he hasn't for ten years. Not since he lost the plot and decided to disown my only son. Only in money, mind, not name. It's why the wards still accept you and it won't matter because I was able to convince him to let me control the vaults after his sentence was fully determined in case you came back to England. Now I could add you back to them if you'd like,” she sniffed primly.
“Did you just say ‘lost the plot?’” Draco asked with raised eyebrows.
“I must admit that your cousin is wearing off on me just a little bit,” Narcissa said with a small, watery smile. Draco pulled his hands away and drank some of his now cool tea.
“I didn't know you didn't side with him and that's my fault, Mother, I should have tried to reach out,” Draco sighed, picking up a fruit tart and plucking a blackberry off it to pop in his mouth.
“I understand why you didn't, Darling. You're here now,” she offered. “Now, why don't you tell me about this program that you went into? Are you seeing any men?” Narcissa asked, pouring a little more tea into her cup before picking it up.
“Mother!” Draco said, cheeks blushing pink. She looked amused as she took a sip of her tea.
“Doesn't have to be in any specific order, Dragon, I'm just curious,” she said offhandedly with a smirk. Draco felt his cheeks heat further as he popped the tart into his mouth.
Despite her intrusive nature he really did miss his mother.
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Draco stepped through the Floo a couple minutes early as Harry’s living room lay before him empty. The old but comfortable brown couch that clashed with the newer glass coffee table and plush red rug. The nice dark wooden side tables and a stand that held a telly with nice recessed lighting and photographs littering the walls.
“'Ello?” Harry’s voice called from upstairs. Draco stepped into the foyer, looking up to see a shirtless Harry standing at the top of the stairs with a towel around his neck and a pair of grey joggers low on his hips.
“Good evening, Harry,” Draco said after clearing his throat, eyes certainly not trained on the lower half of Harry’s body. Draco’s mouth felt extremely dry and he licked his lips a bit.
“Knock it off with that stuffy shite, Draco. I was just about to come down, how was your mothers?” Harry asked as he disappeared into a room before coming out a second later with no towel and a black t-shirt hugging his toned chest.
“It was good. We talked and I think there's a good chance we'll be able to move forward,” he said, watching as Harry descended the stairs. Harry gave him a bright smile as his eyes crinkled with happiness and he gave Draco a chaste kiss on the lips.
“That's wonderful! I told you it wouldn't be bad to talk to her,” Harry said, nudging Draco down the stairs into the kitchen. Draco let himself be led as Harry accio’d a bottle of firewhiskey while he rummaged for two glasses.
“Yes, it turns out she hasn't really talked to my father in the last ten years. Unless you count her manipulating him to give her control of the Gringotts vaults so she could add me back to them. Did you know she got a job at a flower shop?” Draco asked, watching as Harry found the glasses and poured them both two fingers. Harry walked across the kitchen to set one glass in front of Draco, taking out a cigarette from the carton on the table and lighting it with a wave of his hand.
“I believe Andromeda mentioned it before. She really is a Slytherin, getting Lucius to hand over the vaults,” Harry snorted, taking a drag before following it with a sip of the smoking beverage. Draco laughed and took his own sip, a small smile playing on his lips.
“Who would've thought she had it in her?” Draco asked, leaning fully back in the chair and taking in Harry’s relaxed appearance.
“She did lie to Voldemort's face, I have no doubt she's a Slytherin,” Harry smirked, taking a pull of his cigarette.
Why did everything he did look so bloody hot? The way that he leaned back with his legs slightly parted, his muscles flexing under his clothes smoking a cigarette in the middle of his kitchen without a care in the world, the amused glint in those green eyes and smirk on his lips that made him look hot as fuck.
Draco felt a little too warm all the sudden.
“Yes, darling, well we're on speaking terms at the moment and she has invited me for Christmas tea in the morning before we come here for dinner,” Draco said, taking another gulp of firewhiskey and grimacing a bit.
“That's wonderful, Draco. It really is, I'm happy for you, love,” Harry beamed like a proud parent.
“Yes yes, ta ever so for convincing me to not lose the plot at work,” Draco rolled his eyes, feeling a warm blush on his cheeks at Harry’s words. Harry reached over and squeezed his wrist before taking a drag of his cigarette, standing up and stretching. The sound of little pops filled the room and Draco wrinkled his nose.
“Sweet Salazar, Potter. You need a massage,” he commented.
“No time. Maybe you'd be willing to rub me down a bit later tonight?” Harry said, wiggling his eyebrows a bit.
“If you're lucky, perhaps I'll consider,” Draco said with a dramatic huff.
“Come on, I want to watch the telly for a bit. Pansy and Blaise should be here soon,” Harry said, snatching the pack of ciggies and slipping them into his pocket before grabbing the bottle and his glass. Draco stood and followed Harry to the sitting room and let Harry turn on the telly as he threw himself down on the couch. Harry took a seat next to him and started flipping through channels, trying to find an interesting show.
Eventually, Pansy and Blaise showed up with way too much Thai food as they all began to eat, their notes in the back of their minds as they leisurely ate drunken noodles, curry, dumplings, pad thai, and a couple other dishes Draco didn't know the names of.
Draco threw a prawn cracker at some point at Blaise's head which caused the other man to flick his wand at Draco’s hair and turned it a soft pink.
Draco whined and pleaded before resolving to threats to get Blaise to change it back who was able to, but one small piece of pink stayed in Draco’s hair.
When they finished, they all piled on the couch, a mess of limbs and bodies as Pansy was on the right side of the couch, Harry’s head in her lap as she played with his hair. Harry was lying across the couch with Draco curled against his chest, both of their legs on top of Blaise who was on the left side of the couch. They mindlessly watched the telly and chatted quietly, the four of them polishing off the bottle of firewhiskey that was sitting at just over half full before Harry brought it out that evening.
They all felt boneless and rested, purely at ease amongst one another. Harry had off-handedly mentioned what to expect for Japan, but Draco was hardly listening when he could hear Harry’s heart thud loudly in his chest.
This is exactly where he wanted to be.
Draco felt his eyes grow heavy with the warmth and love surrounding him, feeling someone nudge his shoes off as he slowly became dead to the world as he slipped into a content sleep with a warm body under him.