Chapter 2
His mother had, of course, invited him to every party, gala, and event that she had hosted since his parole ended. She’d also sent weekly invites to tea, luncheons, and dinners, all of which he had declined. He hadn’t been ready to re-enter the Wizarding world and she was very firmly in the Wizarding world. His family was still considered a staple of society, their name practically synonymous with royalty. Potter and Granger’s testimonies for himself and his mother had redeemed them in the eyes of the public and he’d been pelted with requests for interviews for the Prophet and all manner of gossip magazines. Rita Skeeter had physically hunted him down and begged to do a biography “Draco Malfoy: Deranged Deatheater or Damaged Debutant?” or some such nonsense. He’d politely refused several times and then rudely declined, finally resorting to placing wards around his home before she had left him alone.
He knew his return to society tonight was likely to create a spectacle. He mourned the anonymity Muggle life had afforded him, knowing it would be nonexistent in the Wizarding world. He would be expected to attend events, take interviews, court women, and reclaim his title as the Malfoy heir. For this reason he had prolonged his absence as long as possible, even at the expense of repairing his relationship with his Mother.
The only connection he’d maintained to the Wizarding world was with Theodore Nott. Theo, who had never taken the dark mark and was in the exceedingly grey areas of the war, had not been punished. He had continued to live a life of wealth and splendour as the exceedingly handsome heir of the Nott line, and an all around playboy. Without Draco around, Theo was considered the most eligible bachelor of the upper–echelons of wizarding society. Witch Weekly had awarded him with their “Most Charming Smile” award three times, and Theo reveled in the glory of his bachelorhood.
Shortly after Draco’s parole had ended, a mere two or three days after Mika had left him to discover all the delights the world had to offer her, Theo showed up on Draco’s doorstep with an exceedingly expensive bottle of aged Firewhisky. Expecting a night filled with women and booze and years of debasement to catch up on, Theo was shocked to find Draco in the midst of an all out pity party.
Instead of a night spent with one, or several ladies, whichever fate had in store, Theo was given a crash course on muggle technology (namely how to “stream movies,” specifically “Rom-Coms” and how to utilise a “microwave” to heat up popcorn with “movie theatre butter”). Following an informative and muggle-laden pity party reminiscent of a teenage girl, during which Draco ate three pints of icecream, two bowls of popcorn, and cried his way through Phantom of the Opera and 500 Days of Summer; Theo and Draco began to reconstruct their friendship. Theo learned of Draco’s newfound ambition to become a Doctor, Healer, and Potions Master while Draco delighted in tales of Theo’s sordid affairs and mishaps. Theo did not push Draco to return to the Wizarding world, and in turn, Draco attempted to teach Theo of the delights of the Muggle world. Theo found he rather liked strip clubs, an establishment that would have shocked even the most adventurous of the refined and practically puritanical Wizarding society.
Theo was hosting another event immediately following Narcissa’s New Year’s Eve party, some sort of costumed masquerade ball that he had coerced Draco into attending. Of the two events he was more excited about the latter, if only for the anonymity it would afford him, and that he could leave early without concern of offending the demands of societal niceties.
For the first time in over a decade, Draco donned a set of dress robes. The reflection in the mirror was dashing and sophisticated, and yet Draco felt like a child playing dress up. The tailoring was immaculate to be sure, but it felt too constricting compared to the jeans and t-shirts he had grown accustomed to. The fabric felt stiff and awkward opposed to the worn leather of his favourite jacket, and the shoes pinched his toes terribly. He sighed. It had been too long since he’d returned home, though the name now felt wrong.
He turned towards his fireplace, grabbed a handful of floo powder, and braced himself for the night ahead as he numbly stated “Malfoy Manor.”
He stepped into the Manor’s receiving parlour and cast a precursory look around. His mother had redecorated it, though he did not know how recently, or how many times since the last time he’d seen it. She’d hung a lovely impressionist painting over the scorch marks Bellatrix had left in the wallpaper after a fit of rage.
An unfamiliar house elf scurried into the room. “Excuse me, Sir, but guests are not to be arriving in the private parlour,” she rushed to explain, her voice squeaky and her eyes wide.
Another elf slid into the room after her, nearly toppling over in her haste to silence the first elf. Draco recognized Mippy, the head house elf from his childhood. She bowed to him quickly before speaking over the other elf. “Mippy apologises for Topsy, Master Draco, she is speaking out of turn, though she is not knowing that Master Draco is Master Draco,” she explained, her tone accusatory as she shot a beseeching look to Topsy. “Topsy is new, sir,” she explained.Topsy began to stroke her large ears nervously, looking between Draco and Mippy, her eyes large and watery.
“Oh, Master Draco, Topsy is so sorry. Topsy was not knowing, Topsy did not realise!” She cried quickly.
Draco smiled at her kindly. “Quite alright, Topsy” he said, nodding his head to her slightly. “Mippy, wonderful to see you,” he acknowledged. “Is my Mother available?” he asked, directing the question to Mippy.
Mippy began to wring her hands nervously. “Mippy is not sure, Sir. Mistress was not expecting Master Draco, Master Draco never responded to her invitation. Mistress has been quite distraught over all the missed invitations, poor Mistress has missed Master Draco so.” Mippy informed him.
“I apologise, Mippy. Would you mind to see if she would be willing to receive me?” he asked kindly. Mippy nodded, gesturing sternly for Topsy to offer him a drink. Topsy rushed to the beverage cart, the bottles clinking together as she pushed it quickly towards him. Mippy harrumphed, shaking her head before she disappeared with a loud CRACK. Topsy winced. “Topsy is trying her best sir,” she said, her voice nervous as she approached Draco, “but Topsy fears that Mippy will never accept Topsy on account of her parentage,” she explained. Draco quirked an eyebrow. Elf lineage was not something he’d spent a lot of time considering, but the small elf amused him.
“Who is your father?” he asked, a grin spreading across his face, unbidden.
Topsy winced, as if she had not expected him to ask. “Dobby, sir” she said quietly, not meeting his eyes.
Draco’s smile fell. “Oh. I’m so sorry, Topsy, I did not know.”
Topsy toed the ground anxiously. “Mippy does not like Topsy, Topsy can tell. Mippy says that Dobby was a bad elf for wanting to leave his family. Topsy has come here to try and redeem him,” she explained, tears filling her eyes.
Draco leaned down, touching the small elf on the shoulder. “Dobby needs no redemption, Topsy. He was a good elf. He died defending his friends, and there is nothing more noble than that. Dobby was right to want to leave. My father treated him terribly. Mippy does not understand, as she was mother’s elf and always well cared for. Behind closed doors my father was cruel and abusive to Dobby, and I do not blame him for rejoicing in his freedom. I shall speak to Mippy to ensure she understands.” Topsy began to sob loudly, blowing her nose in her pillow case. Draco patted her on the back, allowing her time to sort through her feelings.
After a few minutes she settled and offered him a drink, which he accepted. Moments later, Narcissa Malfoy swept into the room. Draco moved to her, taking her hand and kissing her knuckles. “Mother,” he greeted her politely. He stiffened as she pulled him into a tight embrace, stroking the back of his head as she’d done when he was a child. He returned her hug awkwardly, surprised at the show of affection. He’d expected her to berate him for his continued absence; he had not expected this.
Finally she pulled back, reaching up to place a hand gently against his cheek. “My son,” she whispered, her eyes wet with unshed tears. She continued to stare at him, brushing a thumb across his cheek as if she could not quite believe he was real. “You should not have stayed away for so long,” she said sadly.
“I’m sorry, Mother,” he apologised. “I found it quite difficult to return,” he admitted.
She looked at him sternly. “You should not have stayed away for so long. I do not care if you want to galavant across Muggle society and let your duties as heir fall to the wayside” she chastised. “You will not hide yourself from me again,” she said tersely, and he nodded.
“Apologies, mother,” he said and smiled her favourite smile, the one that had gotten him out of any punishment in the past.
“Don’t you pull that smile at me, Draco Lucius Malfoy! It won’t work” she said, but her voice had grown softer and her eyes twinkled. A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth, and he knew all was forgiven.
“Yes ma’am,” he grinned.
He offered her an elbow. “Shall we join the party?” he asked, “I believe I have some duties as heir that need attending to,” he teased.
She smiled at him affectionately, and together they made their way to the ballroom.