Eureka
Draco wracked his brain for hours on what to do.
He paced the Manor.
Lucius told him to go to sleep several times. He ignored him. Mipsy tried to gently suggest that Young Draco go to bed, but then brought him his favourite nightcap.
A beaten man, his Father came back down in the dark of the night to find Draco still by the fireplace, working his fourth whiskey. He heard him before he saw him, the cane thudding heavily on the marble floor.
Lucius sat across from him, watching his son watch the crackling fire. "You're different, Draco."
"So are you, Father."
POP.
Mipsy appeared, "Does Master likes drink too?"
Lucius nodded, and another POP went with Mipsy's apparition. In another minute, a drink floated in front of Lucius.
"I had a lot of time to think in Azkaban."
Draco arched a thick, dark brow.
Lucius quirked a ghostly smile. "It's not like we had much of anything else to do when the Dementors weren't sucking the life force out of you or when the guards weren't goading us into submission."
For the first time, Draco noticed how old his Father was. So different from the powerful and imposing Wizard he admired for most of his young life. "I thought the Dementors were gone."
"It's not something they publicize They kept us mostly in solitude. If anyone of us disrespected the guards, they'd find one from ... somewhere. Kept us in line."
Draco felt a shudder go down his spine. He felt like arching his back. He remembered how Hermione would always praise him and pinch his pink toe beans, "Ohhh, good stretch, Lynx!"
[Image: Cat!Draco thinks back to when he stretches and Hermione praises him.]
"I'm sorry I didn't visit more," he said.
"I didn't want you in that gods' forsaken place." A pause. "I hope you kept your Mother company until the end."
Draco's stormy eyes misted, but he blinked them away. "I did. She deserved a longer life. But this place—years of being drenched in Dark Magic, the war—I took her all to the best Healers in the continent. They couldn't do much but tell me to keep her comfortable."
"And did you?" Lucius turned toward his son, his countenance serious and deadly.
"Of course, Father."
He nodded. "I should have done so much better by her. And I will spend the rest of my life mourning that."
It took Lucius considerable effort to stand up. Draco scrambled to help him.
"No, I can manage, son. It'll be a while before I can get back up to full strength. The chains they kept on us—" He shivered at the memory. "I know you keep a place outside the Manor. Stay there. Do not keep mired in these bloody memories, just because of an old, foolish man."
"Father—"
Lucius tutted, "Let me finish. I know you and Theodore worked hard to secure our revised sentences. Even though Senior doesn't show it, I know he's grateful. You two grew into men and I wasn't even there to see it. I won't pretend to know completely the exploits you were up to in my absence. I don't care to know it. But I know you've been sad."
Draco started to correct him.
"Life is both terribly short and exceedingly long, Draco. If you've found someone who can offer you some semblance of what your Mother gave me, and you feel likewise toward her, don't wait. Don't hesitate." Lucius finished his drink.
"She's—What if she's—Uhm, anyone?", he stammered.
"You don't need my permission, Draco. If my disapproval is enough to stop you, then perhaps she's not the one." Lucius stood up and straightened his sleep clothes. "Mipsy! Get me another nightcap!"
Draco listened to the' cane thuds get progressively dampen, as Lucius walked back to his room.
Draco Floo'd back to his flat that night, and transformed into his cat!form as he crawled into bed. He thought of Hermione.
[Image: Cat!Draco curls up, thinking of Hermione.]
Suddenly, Cat!Draco woke up, alert, mind racing.
He knew what to do.
[Video: Cat!Draco has an idea.]