snakesandscars:
Perhaps it was improper for Draco to hold a grudge after all of the years that had passed since the war. He didn’t care. The stubborn part of him always won out. He could barely look himself in the mirror, let alone be expected to look at his father and forgive him. It was his father that had gotten them into this mess. His father that had chosen to follow Voldemort and continue to follow him once he came to power again. Draco didn’t have much of a say in what ended up being expected of him. He didn’t have much of a say in what he’d ended up doing during the war. He was merely following orders, afraid for his life. For his mother’s.
Draco had always been his mother’s child. He’d clung to her side when he was young and hated to be parted from her. After the war, he’d initially been angry, but it was the grief talking mostly. Even while he was shutting her out, he still sought her out when he was in tears, emotional from the alcohol that he’d consumed. Now, he made more of an effort because he knew he had to make up for the way he’d shut her out. Draco attempted to be more present.
“Please,” Draco nodded as he sat down across from his mother. He still hated being in the manor, but he tried to not let it show in his posture. The last thing he wanted to do was to upset her. The blonde fixed his cup of tea that his mother poured - a splash of milk and two spoonful’s of sugar - before taking it into his hands. Her words stirred him, but he attempted to not let it show upon his face. The irritation that he felt over Theo’s never-ending work schedule. The fact that they rarely spoke more than two words to each other anymore. “He’s busy,” Draco managed to mutter. “We’re only sharing the flat, mother. It’s unnecessary for us to spend inordinate amounts of time together.” His mother knew more or at least suspected more than most, but Draco still denied it flatly.
“How are things here?” He asked, attempting to change the subject. “Are you still renovating?”
She knew it was likely that no matter how many renovations they made, Draco likely still felt uncomfortable in the Manor. In truth, she did too. So badly had she wanted to fix it, so it could once again be the haven of the memories of Draco growing up. When he had been a little boy, holding her hand as they walked in the gardens, or sat in her lap as she read a story to him. Of course those memories were still there in her mind, but she didn’t see them when she walked around the manor anymore. The only memories the building prompted were horrific. Memories of events she would much rather forget.
Narcissa sipped her cup of tea, an eyebrow arching in slight annoyance when he said that he and Theo were ‘only sharing the flat’. Despite the opinions she personally held about what those two felt for each other, his statement simply wasn’t true. “Draco, you are not merely sharing a flat. Theo has been a wonderful friend to you for a long time. Friendships take effort to maintain, darling, and I wouldn’t want years of that affection to go to waste.” She held a great deal of affection for Theo herself, so of course she worried about their friendship.
She sighed a little when he mentioned the house, clearly as reluctant to talk about it as he was to talk about Theo. “The renovations are finished. Not that it seems to have really done what I wanted.” For neither her or Draco, it seemed. “I’ve been thinking that maybe I need a break from this house. There’s always your grandparents’ house.” Of course, that house held its own horrors for her. “It would need some restoring, but perhaps it would be good to have a project away from here.”
