MARLENE:
Marlene paused, slightly taken aback by the other womanâs tone. Couldnât she tell how embarrassed Marlene was? Truly, she wouldâve felt awful if anything had happened, but nothing did. She even wouldâve offered to pay any Healersâ bill they accrued, though she knew for a fact that it wouldnât have even dented their vault in the slightest. Still, it was the thought that counted. RightâŠ?
âI - yes, youâre right,â she replied. And just when she was about to respond further, young Draco laughed. It was an adorable sound, and Marleneâs face softened as her eyes flicked to the boy. After a moment, she returned her attention to his mother, though not quite meeting her eyes as Marleneâs mother had told her etiquette demanded.Â
âYes, I quite agree with you.â Marlene paused and clicked her tongue, calling Persephone (somewhat reluctantly) back to her side. âI suppose Iâm not used to putting Persephone on a leash, a mistake I will not make again in the future.â The dog in question looked up at Marlene with what could have been annoyance and huffed loudly before sitting and curling her tail over her front paws. Her posture seemed to say Look how well-behaved I am, I donât need a leash.
An uncomfortable silence followed before Marlene somewhat naively asked, âAre you enjoying yourselves?â Perhaps it had just been a motherâs instinct that made Narcissa snap at Marlene. She wouldnât know, having never been in the same position, but she could at least try to extend an olive branch.
Sooner or later, Pureblood training would set back in and dull the red flaming paranoia that set off an alarm in her mind. It couldnât be helped, any time Draco was unhappy - or gods forbid hurt - that feeling ignited. All rationality and sense of composure seemed to vanish, Narcissa focused on protecting her son. He was, admittedly, all she really had left; that had to be why she was so fiercely protective. That could happen when you were crushingly afraid.
Or maybe the reasoning was something else. Maybe it had to do with Hera. That was the excuse that Cissa told herself, at least. She as living up to her motherâs expectations even if in so many other ways, she had seemed to fail. Being a mother was the one thing she could succeed in, that came naturally to her. And it had from the moment she had become one.
Hearing Dracoâs joy at a dog gave Narcissa moment of pause. It was almost enough to snap her out of it. He was fine, and more than that, he was happy. âHe likes her.â She spoke, the words coming out with more fondness than the others. It was hard for her not to soften, thinking of Draco. That too was her way of saying, the dog was fine. If her son was enjoying it, there was no reason to cower away; perhaps she was over-indulgent of a four year old. Even if she was, she didnât care.Â
And there it was, the training Druella had instilled into her. If her adoptive mother thought the youngest was doing any less, she would be furious. âPersephone, I assume thatâs her name.â She spoke, words having lost some of their former harshness. Now it was a bitter taste in her mouth, one Narcissa had to hide; no point in thinking of Andromedaâs godly sibling, particularly when that would lead to Andromeda. âYes, we have. Isnât that right, Draco?â But he had gone back to trying to get the dogâs affections.Â












