Friends, Enemies, and All the Broken People

15. Blood on the Drawing Room Floor

Malfoy Manor was very different from what Draco remembered.

Lucius Malfoy's office was not the dark, insidious pit that it had once been. The dark artifacts had been removed–forcefully, by the ministry–as had all references to the Sacred Twenty-Eight.

It was certainly traditional with nods to Slytherin House and Malfoy family history, which would likely never change. But the large bay window that faced the gardens and beautifully framed the gazebo was now the focus of the room, not his father's dark deeds. Not the plotting and the secrets.

"My mother sits out there and reads or gardens. He's always had the window so he could admire her while he works," Draco explained fondly as he noticed Hermione's gaze had drifted to the same view.

"That's very sweet, and wholly unexpected from your father," Hermione said with a small laugh. "As a matter of fact, Lucius Malfoy is just full of surprises. None of this is what I expected."

Draco nodded. "I told you they were renovating. I imagine most of the house will be rather different than what you expect."

"Or what you remember." Her hand squeezed his.

"Thank Merlin for that," he mumbled.

A house-elf appeared in the room and Draco felt Hermione stiffen beside him. "Pipsey comes to tell Master Draco that Master Malfoy and Mistress Malfoy are waiting in the conservatory for their guests."

"Draco—"

"She's a free elf that is paid by the estate. As are all the other house-elves you'll see tonight," Draco cut off all her arguments efficiently. He'd anticipated this and had written to the family solicitor to confirm the elves were still being treated well. Hermione nodded her acceptance and Draco led her out into the hallway.

"Thank you, Pipsey. I know the way," he called over his shoulder.

"Wow..." Hermione's breathless voice seemed to echo in the barren hallway.

Draco noticed that his parents had removed most of the portraits from the hall. All of the bigoted ancestors were taken down and replaced with scenic scapes or iconic art of famous wizards and witches. Well, at least he'd be spared from hearing his girlfriend being called slurs on their way to dinner.

"It's all so...," Hermione trailed off as her eyes darted around.

"Ostentatious? Pretentious?"

"Grand. It's very grand."

"I expected a much swottier word, Granger," he teased. She playfully scowled at him and tried to pinch his arm. He dodged and snaked his arm around her waist.

His hand skated up and down Hermione's spine as they approached the doors to the conservatory. Now or never...

The estate's magic sensed his presence and the doors opened slowly unassisted. And Draco came face-to-face with his parents for the first time since his birthday.

His father had regained much of his color and weight from his stint in Azkaban and a prolonged housestay from the Dark Lord. His mother looked as graceful and elegant as always. Though he noticed that her traditional robes had been replaced by a Muggle floor-length dress. They were both still dressed in blacks and greys—the unofficial Malfoy uniform.

"My dragon!" his mother exclaimed as they entered the room. She moved quickly toward him and he stepped in front of Hermione to intercept her. Narcissa hesitated as she recognized the rather protective move, and then continued to embrace her son at a slower pace.

"Draco," his father drawled with a nod and a smile from the corner of the room. That was the most affection there would be in front of company...some habits died hard.