Christmas Dinner
Draco heard the students walking cheerily through the halls while he moped in his room. He'd already said his goodbyes to Harry, Hermione, and the Weasleys and grabbed a sandwich for dinner to eat in his room. As much as he didn't want to be alone, he was glad that the students who had been tormenting him were gone. He would have two days of peace before he had to make an appearance at the Manor.
He'd debated not returning home at all, especially since his mother wouldn't know the difference. But the guilty part of him that blamed himself for her absence wouldn't forgive him for leaving her alone on the holiday. They had never done much for Christmas before so he'd arranged with the House Elves to prepare a nice dinner for the two of them and then he'd rush back to school to study or wander the grounds without the threat of other students.
The tormenting had been mostly absent after he'd started standing up for himself. At least, the physical tormenting. There were still sharp words thrown casually at him that tore deep as any curse but those were easier to build a facade around. The worst was when they dragged Harry into it by association.
He was thinking of Harry as he grabbed a cup of tea from the dining hall and headed out into the halls to wander while he drank it. He always thought better while moving and with so few people in the castle, the chill seemed to seep in more often and more thoroughly. So far Draco had only seen one other student and a handful of professors in his daily wanderings. The former had turned and left when they'd seen him and the latter was not inclined to bully him outside of classes.
Thoughts of Harry inevitably led to thoughts of the kiss they had shared and wondered what it had meant. It frustrated him that Harry had avoided the topic, despite being guilty of the same. Memories of that night had haunted him, rising up at the worst times and reminding him of what he wanted but what he could never have. Ginny was his girlfriend, and despite everything, Draco wouldn't do anything to ruin that. If they broke up...
He didn't even want to go down that path, because he wasn't sure what he would do. In the few weeks they'd been back at school he'd come to prize Harry's friendship and the thought of losing it made something in him rebel violently. Having Harry in his life at all was worth more than trying to force a relationship. And that thought terrified him more than anything else.
Ever since realizing he was gay, he'd avoided relationships. There had been occasional hookups - usually drunk - with guys in Slytherin and even a Ravenclaw or two, but absolutely nothing serious. For most of the time that he'd even been interested in sex, he'd also thought he was going to die any day. Now that death was (hopefully) a distant threat, he still wasn't sure if he would ever settle down. Except in the past few weeks, he'd started to picture a future with himself and a boy with green eyes and glasses.
It was stupid, but he imagined them getting a flat in Muggle London where no one knew who they were and when they went to the shops or to eat they weren't stared at. They would have to work. Harry had confided that despite the fact he'd thought about being an Auror, what he actually wanted was to play Quidditch professionally. He'd been approached by a few teams but judgment from his friends and the Minister of Magic had kept him from accepting any offers.
As for Draco, he really wanted to open a potion shop for niche potions. Nothing illegal - he'd leave that to Knockturn Alley. He wanted a storefront in Diagon Alley where he could brew potions. Perhaps he'd even teach classes. After all, most witches and wizards only took the required years at Hogwarts or whatever school they'd gone to, then forgot the art. He could also have cauldrons for rent since quite a few families wouldn't have the space or the money for a full setup that some potions required.
He'd confessed his dream to Harry - minus the living together and being in love part - the night they'd stayed up together. Harry had been supportive, not laughing at all even though Draco's dreams were as likely to happen as that he'd fly to the moon on a broomstick and live to tell the tale. No one in their right mind would buy potions from a Malfoy.
When the time finally rolled around for him to head home, he headed to his room, changed into clean clothes, and left through the front door. Once he was out of the anti-Apparation zone, he snapped out of existence. Apparating was always an odd experience, and when his mind drifted sometimes he found himself hanging too long in the nothingness between points. Just when he started to panic, the pull gripped him again and he appeared, whole and unscathed, at the gates of Malfoy Manor.
As he passed through the gates, he felt a twinge as the warding spells recognized him and allowed him to pass. He'd half expected his mother to have changed them in her paranoia, but no such luck. The walk to the Manor was relaxing, even though once he was inside he could have Apparated to the house. He needed the ten-minute walk to psych himself up for the visit he was about to have.
Hopefully, the House Elves would have Christmas Dinner ready and he wouldn't be there for long. There was no telling how his mother would be, but her periods of lucidity were few and far between these days. He'd hoped for months that she'd snap out of it, but she only seemed to be retreating further into herself. Healers had come, but only second-rate ones would take the job and he had no faith in their abilities. He could always petition the Wizengamot to allow her into St. Mungo's, but he hated the idea of her locked up there more than here. At least here she had space and could have visitors.
When he made it to the house, a House Elf greeted him and took his cloak. They also let him know that the present he'd ordered for his mom had arrived and been wrapped and placed under the tree in the library. He thanked them and moved in, looking to see if he could find signs of his mother.
"Mrs. Malfoy is in the kitchens overseeing the cooking," the House Elf said, thin reedy voice betraying her young age. Typically House Elves' voices deepened as they grew older. "I will be telling her you are here if you want to go to the library."
"Thank you, Trinna," Draco said, heading toward the library and hoping his mother would be there shortly. There was an odd sense of melancholy that accompanied his walk through the halls and for the first time since he'd left to go back to school, he realized that he never actually intended on returning to the Manor full-time. Even after it became his, he never saw a future where he lived in the country, although perhaps it would be easier to finish school and disappear from society.
His gloomy thoughts were interrupted before he could fall too deep into them but his mother's arrival. She, like himself, had stopped eating if the thinness of her face and hands were any indication. Looking at her like that, he wondered if that's how others viewed him. She moved gracefully and even seemed to have some of the fire in her eyes that had always impressed him. For being married to a man who commanded the room, she had always held her own at his side.
"Draco, sweet," she said, sweeping towards him and engulfing him in a hug. She'd become much more physically affectionate since the War, hugging him or resting a hand on his arm or shoulder as if needing to reassure herself that he was there. "Dinner is nearly ready. Shall we start with presents?"
"Hello, mum," he said, holding her tight for a moment as if they could anchor each other in place. When he let go, he followed her to the tree which was decorated lavishly in gold and silver ornaments enchanted to twinkle like stars. On top was a burning flame that would never burn the tree but provided a warm glow to the corner of the room it occupied. Dozens of presents were under the tree, despite it just being the two of them celebrating.
"I'm so glad you were able to come home," she said, settling into her chair. "I'll just -" She reached for her wand and her face went blank. It had been snapped at the trial and the pieces burned. He could only imagine a fraction of the pain that was. Wands that chose the wizard were connected to their very being. The loss was a physical pain that never fully went away unless you replaced it with a new wand, something she wasn't allowed to do.
"I've got it, mother. I've been practicing wandless magic." If his father had been home, there might have been a comment about how only a truly powerful wizard could do magic wandless and how did Draco expect to be able to when he wasn't even top three in his class. Instead, he focused on the spell and the intention and muttered the words under his breath. To his relief, the presents started sorting themselves out, and soon they both had a stack beside their chair.
Draco didn't realize he was waiting for his mother's praise until it didn't come. She remained staring blankly at the tree, hands twisting around each other as though searching for her lost wand and he felt a pit of despair open in his heart. No matter what he did, she would never be allowed a wand. And while she may have been able to learn to do magic endlessly once, she hadn't made any attempt to do so now.
Without another word - it would have been impossible to draw his mother out now - they started opening presents. Draco didn't pay attention to what he got, opening, thanking his mother, then putting it aside for the House Elves to take to his room. The only gift he kept was a small glass ball that held an image of himself and his mother playing while he was a child. He'd almost forgotten that memory existed but she'd encapsulated it in glass and given it to him as a keepsake. Such magic was incredibly difficult and he wanted to know how she'd found someone able to perform it for them or if this was something she'd done years ago and only just now decided to gift him.
She opened hers methodically, thanking him as well. A few times she almost broke out of the haze but then she'd twist her hands where her wand should be and retreat back into herself. When at last the presents were all opened, Draco stood and offered her an arm which she took.
"Let's go eat, mother," he said. "The food smells delicious."
"It is, darling," she said. "I had to oversee the cooking myself. I swear these House Elves are getting lazier and lazier every day." She prattled on about how the House Elves were slacking in their duties and he humored her because arguing wouldn't help. The truth was he'd freed and found employment for half of their ten remaining elves. He planned to do the same to the rest once the Manor was empty - but he hoped that day was a long time coming.
When they sat down to eat and the food appeared in front of him, he was transported back to memories of his childhood. Back then they'd eaten in the Banquet Hall, a room Draco had locked and forbidden anyone to enter ever again, and now they were in the less formal dining area just off the Kitchen. But the spread of food was almost the same and he half expected his father to chide him on his manners as he found his elbows on the table.
They were halfway through dinner when his mother's demeanor changed and she sat up taller. It was almost like he could see her eyes clear as she blinked and looked at him. He tried not to smile when she smiled at him but failed.
"I'm sorry, Draco," she said. "I know I'm not myself it's just..."
"You don't need to apologize, mother," he said. "I know."
"Well, how is school going? I hope the others are treating you well. You look half-starved. Have any of your friends returned?" Her barrage of questions had him pausing with his fork halfway between his plate and his mouth. The mention of his weight loss and asking about school had caught him off guard. His lack of appetite wasn't new to returning to school. He'd already been on his way to unhealthily skinny before leaving the Manor several weeks ago.
"School is fine," he said. "Daphne Greengrass returned, but I'm afraid I may have said some things that upset her and she's avoided me since."
"Ah, the Greengrasses are lovely, aren't they? I do need to write to ensure your marriage to Astoria is still moving forward." She went on about how wonderful Astoria was now that she was growing up and what a beautiful pair they would make. He didn't bother correcting her that they would not be getting married. After his conversation with Daphne and his rather unfortunate - his mother's words - sexual orientation, he was certain they could almost count on the fact of the engagement being broken.
"And how is Harry Potter?"
"What?" He'd stopped listening to what she was saying and was only pulled back in when she mentioned Harry. He wondered if someone had told her about his friendship.
"The last time I saw him was at the trial. Well, I see his face in the Daily Prophet all the time - terrible newspaper - and he looks awful."
"Well, dying will do that to a person," Draco said dryly.
"Don't be morbid, Draco," Narcissa admonished. "I simply meant he looked tired."
"Yeah, he doesn't sleep well I guess," he said offhandedly.
"How would you know how he sleeps? Are you two getting close?"
"Sometimes I run into him in the halls in the middle of the night." It wasn't a complete lie. They had run into each other once. "Do you think Harry would ever spend time with me? He was captured and held prisoner in our castle. We tortured his friends - killed some of them."
"That was another time, dear," Narcissa said, waving a hand as if it was so easy to forget the past. Sometimes he envied her, even while he recognized her method of coping was perhaps less healthy than his own. Oh, how the mighty House of Malfoy had fallen. "He really is a lovely boy. You would do well to make friends with him. Perhaps he could talk to the Minister and get your father released."
Draco held his tongue, knowing that he would never do as she'd suggested. His father was exactly where he needed to be. Coming to that realization had hurt Draco more than he'd ever let anyone know, but he was certain of it. While part of him still loved his father, he knew the man was dangerous. Lying and deceit came as easily to him as breathing. If he were free, the Wizarding world would be the worse for it.
"Well this was lovely, darling," his mother said, standing abruptly. He was only half done with his food and his mother had only taken a few bites of her own. "I must get back to my book, though. I've considered starting a book club. Perhaps I'll invite Livvy Greengrass over. That does sound wonderful."
"Goodbye, mother," he said, but she was already out of the room, wandering off to - he supposed - her parlor. With a quick word to the House Elves about bringing her food to her parlor, he took his leave of Malfoy Manor and returned to the school where he wasn't any less at home in than the house he'd grown up in.