Complicated Sentiments!
ONE THING DRACO HAD TO ADMIT ABOUT the Malfoys was their ability to live in luxury. He had observed Ron and the Weasleys struggling to comprehend winning a lottery (Draco might or might not have rigged it) and struggling to decide to properly use the winnings to visit their son in Egypt for a vacation. All Draco had to do was making a nonchalant mention of it to his mother, and Narcissa had swiftly arranged an international portkey and the necessary accommodations for Draco to spend the end of his summer touring the catacombs of ancient pyramids in Egypt.
The only downside was his return to the Manor for a couple of days for his mother to help him pack for his travels. Hence his current presence in the dining room.
Since the end of his last year, it had become increasingly difficult for him to view Lucius Malfoy as anything other than a villain. Snape might have sensed his true feelings. But any attempts at reconciliation between Draco and his father, on Snape or Narcissa's end, had been shut down. Meanwhile, Lucius had made no such effort to reach out to Draco during the summer.
So far, Draco had been extremely fortunate in avoiding any confrontation with Lucius Malfoy. He had barely seen his father a couple of times this summer, and he aimed to keep that streak going. However, his luck seemed to run out when his mother informed him that Lucius would be joining them for breakfast. As if on cue, Draco heard the thump of Lucius's cane, signaling his arrival.
“Lucius! Finally!... come join us,” Narcissa greeted him cheerfully – what was that about? .
Had his father's limp become more pronounced during the summer? Or was Draco imagining it?
“Hello, son,” Lucius greeted as he sat down, motioning for them to start their meal.
“Father,” Draco responded tersely. He knew he couldn't avoid meeting Lucius forever. Despite their strained relationship, they were still father and son.
“Are you all set for your travels?” Lucius inquired after a long silence. The dinning Hall was early quite during the meal.
“Yes, I am,” Draco replied shortly, trying to maintain politeness.
“We would have loved to join you, darling,” Narcissa said, still a bit miffed by Draco's refusal to let them join him.
“I will be on excavations with Bill Weasley, exploring some truly ancient sites, Mother. I doubt you would have found that entertaining,” Draco assured her with a smile, if she sensed his exclusion of Lucius in that statement she made no comment.
“Do let us know if you require anything,” Lucius added, finishing his meal.
“Worry not, Father. I will not burden you with my incessant demands,” Draco muttered.
“I highly doubt children can be a bother to their parents, Draco,” Narcissa assured him probably trying her best to diminish the awkwardness between these two.
“It would have been more believable if the said parent had not tried to harm the friends of the said child,” Draco retorted.
“I assure you, Draco, I had nothing to do with the chaos of your second year at school,” Lucius stated firmly, his expression unwavering.
“Oh, I believe you. Your intent, more likely, was to lead my friends to the ruthlessness of your precious Dark Lord,” Draco jeered.
“Draco…” Narcissa interjected.
“It's okay, Cissa. Let him speak his mind,” Lucius said calmly.
“Oh no, don’t be generous, lest I say something in your Lord’s honor,” Draco quipped. The disappointment, at his father of all people hurting him, bleeding through that sentence.
“You know, Draco, I yearn for the day you will see me as a father you can trust and be proud of,” Lucius said, his tone tinged with sadness yet remorseless.
“Right… because being the henchman of a psychopath is something to be proud of,” Draco scoffed.
“Draco, that’s enough,” Narcissa scolded, but Draco and Lucius ignored her.
“Whatever I did, I did for you,” Lucius insisted almost shouting, his temper starting to show.
“I find that hard to believe, Father,” Draco mocked.
“I assure you, little dragon, one of these days you will not find it hard to believe. You might even regret being a little menace for your father,” Lucius warned, his voice taking on a cold edge.
Draco shook his head. How delusional was Lucius Malfoy? Well, obviously, Draco knew the extent of his delusions. He knew how wrong Lucius was going to be, yet there was an ache in Draco’s chest at the thought of losing his found family to snakeface. And wasn’t that, in itself, a revelation? These fictional characters were the first found family Draco ever had. And he was going to lose them too.
“Just remember,” Lucius continued, unaware of Draco's inner turmoil, “I will still be here for you to return to me as a son. I will be here to help you with anything...., anything at all, no matter how impossible it might seem to you." Lucius said determined. "Not because I'm a pretentious snob or a pompous pureblood fanatic, as you might think, little dragon. But because for a parent, the greatest achievement is to be a safe haven for their child. And despite what you might think of me, I am capable of being that safe haven for you. You need only trust me.”
Before Draco could respond or fully comprehend Lucius's words, his father had left the room.
......
“I'm knackered,” Draco sighed into the pillow as he collapsed onto his bed. There were snickers from the others in the room, but Draco was too exhausted to retaliate.
“Mate, it was your idea to take Bill as a tour guide. We actually warned you against it,” Ron reminded him.
“Yeah, I know, but in my defense, I thought you guys were exaggerating,” Draco whined.
He had arrived in Egypt on Monday morning (right after that skirmish with his father), and it was Thursday now. He had instantly fallen in love with the tattooed and runed god that was one William Weasley. The Twins had been more than forthcoming in their promise to introduce him to their god of a brother. Bill, on his part, was more than happy to help Draco with his excavations. (And if those ended with long steamy showers with some self love due to the images of Bill's sweaty body lifting heavy rocks and moving through those Labrynths being all competent and dreamy through out the days.. Than Draco was not to be blamed. It was puberty... The bitch. )
In the past four days, Draco had hardly slept more than 20 hours in total. They had not only explored Cleopatra's tomb catacombs in depth, but Draco was confident he could sketch a map of all the tunnels running through the Pyramids of Giza and the surrounding tombs. Additionally, Draco had asked for Bill’s help in harvesting blue lilies, and Bill had been more than happy to show him the proper etiquette and rules for sowing and reaping the fully bloomed blue lilies.
Griphook’s description of the process had been tedious and somewhat horrifying, to say the least. Draco was relieved to learn that, contrary to goblin beliefs, he was not supposed to actually bleed a river to water the flowers for their bloom. Bill had contacted a couple of his associates to arrange for the best quality seeds for him. The rest of the process was akin to child's play. The only hurdle had been selecting a proper place for sowing the harvest. According to local beliefs, Draco was supposed to sow the seeds at his ancestral burial grounds. That had proved easier with the Malfoys being the Ancient and Nobel house and their centuries of history.
The warding had already been keyed to Malfoy blood, so adding a new ward to allow only Draco entry was not a problem. Next, he had to plant the seeds right at midnight under moonlight with the help of a moonstone. Water the plant with his sweat (which was not easy. Deserts are bloody cold at night, and it took sprinting through the burial grounds to sweat just a few drops. He had felt like a right idiot.) and blood (the bloody cut on his forearm had scarred later on. Bill had somehow forgotten to inform him that any cuts made during rituals always scarred). Now he just had to wait for eleven more moons for the flowers to bloom.
The whole process had been relatively straightforward, but it had taken a toll on him magically and spiritually. He felt depleted and tired beyond his years. Thankfully, he wouldn't be returning to the harvesting site anytime soon.
“You okay, mate?” Ron asked, startling Draco. He must have fallen asleep for a bit because now Ron was the only one in the room with him.
“Hmmm… yeah, I'm … I'm okay,” Draco mumbled, sitting up and rubbing his eyes, trying to wake up.
“Harry’s been trying to contact you,” Ron pointed to the two-way mirror on his bedside.
“Oh…” Draco reached for the mirror, but Ron stopped him.
“It's okay. Harry just asked to remind you to take care of yourself and not to overexert,” Ron laughed. “I told him it was a wasted effort, and I'll have you contact him when you can sit for more than a few minutes.”
As if to prove his point, Draco fell back onto the bed, lacking the energy to even sit.
“Here,” Ron threw a Pepperup next to his head. “Mum is waiting for us for dinner. Word of advice, if you want to keep whatever has you so tired a secret, don’t miss dinner,” Ron chuckled again as Draco groaned at the thought of having to move around to get to dinner.