Empty Spaces

Chapter 2

- Draco -

Freedom felt nothing like he imagined it would.

To be fair, any sane person wouldn't really call him free. He was confined to the Manor, along with his mother, basically under house arrest: Court orders and all that-- "For monitoring," they said. "For safety," they said. Draco knew it was their only option. The public outrage would be unmanageable if any Malfoy had simply been allowed to walk out of that courtroom as free people. But he and his mother also couldn't simply be thrown into Azkaban either. Well, they could. Potter had seen to it that they didn't, though. Why? What was it to him?

But Lucius had been put away, and that was what mattered most.

The joy was short-lived, however: When Draco returned to the Manor, Narcissa at his side, he quickly realized just how tight a grip his father held on them. His mother was lost and it didn't take long for him to feel the same– Lucius may be gone, but his poison was still there, oozing out of every crack in the enormous, empty house. Draco couldn't help the feeling that his father knew – the man somehow managed to have eyes everywhere it seemed. The sweets Draco brought home that first day– Lucius would never allow something as frivolous as candy inside the house– became tasteless in Draco's mouth and he couldn't even finish the stupid chocolate frogs. He gave them to the ministry worker camped out in their sitting room, tasked with recording the Malfoy family's every move, and retreated back to his room.

His mother was unreachable in her grief, and he didn't know whether it was a good thing or a bad thing. All logical reason said it was a bad thing, but she had also stopped drinking and "calming her nerves" with who knows what else, so Draco ultimately took it as a good thing. She simply... was. Lost in her own world, a ghost of the formidable woman she was during Draco's youth. She passed her time in the library, or walking the grounds alone, and as long as her hands were free of the wine goblets that had seemed to be permanently attached in her later years, Draco figured he could leave her with whatever demons were hers to face.

Was he a horrible son for letting his mother fade away?

What a stupid question. He was a horrible person. He had done horrible things. Seen horrible things. And horrible things had been done to him.

It wasn't an excuse. It just... was.

He hadn't even bothered trying to keep up correspondences with anyone. He'd lost track long ago of who was friends with him and who was just trying to be friends with the Malfoy name. He supposed it didn't really matter anyway because he was quickly coming to realize that he had no idea how much of himself was actually himself and how much was himself trying to survive Lucius' iron grip on his life. And so passed the long, endless summer.

At some point, the monotony was interrupted when he found himself accompanying Narcissa someplace, surrounded by Ministry officials and Aurors, and halfway there, Draco realized where it was they were going and what it was they were doing.

Shit.

Am I even allowed to say no to these things?

Whether Lucius had manipulated someone into allowing his family a visit or whether it was some sort of idiotic standard Ministry procedure, Draco didn't particularly know or care. But the last person on earth he wanted to see was his father.

"Draco..." Lucius drawled, poison dripping from his voice, reaching out his manicled hand towards his son, "How are things?"

"Fine," Draco said through clenched teeth, forcing himself to put on a pleasant face and tone. It was harder than he remembered. Two months away. I'm out of practice. "Lovely."

Lucious came close under guise of an embrace, whispering in Draco's ear.

"The Malfoy name still commands respect for many– more than you know. It will do you well to remember that."

Even imprisoned in Azkaban, Lucius, the master manipulator, could bribe and coerece his way out of anything. But Draco could too. He'd learned from the best, after all.

"I love you too, Father," he replied loudly, pulling back and smiling smoothly, relishing in the feeling of defiance. The place was crawling with Ministry officials, probably Aurors as well. Your move, Lucius.

"It truly is such a joy to see you again," Lucius continued, unfazed. "A father worries for his only son..."

Draco kept his smile on.

"And a son worries for his father. The joy is mutual, Father, for nothing could make me happier than to see you here today." In prison robes. Please let this be over soon.

"The apple doesn't fall far from the tree," Lucius answered smoothly. "And such a lovely tree we have, wouldn't you agree?"

"Of course, Father."

"It would be a terrible shame if anything happened to it."

"Indeed."

"Which is why I am so happy that I can trust my son to care for it."

"The pleasure is all mine," Draco smiled through his teeth.

"Apologies, Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Malfoy," some Ministry official spoke up from the corner, "Time's almost up."

Idiot. Stop cowering. Lucius is wandless, in chains, and I... I don't even know what I look like, but neither of us is in any position to do anything right now. It took all of Draco's self control not to roll his eyes at the stupidity of the whole situation.

"Ah, so it is," Lucius smiled smoothly, "Take care of your mother, Draco, and yourself. I trust you will make your father proud. Oh, and please tend to my orchard while I'm away. I expect those trees to be in full fruition when I see them again..."

"You know I will." Draco's smile was genuine now. At least something good came out of this.

He sent his owl the next day confirming his return to school. He thought he felt happy, but honestly, it was a bit hard to tell. He wasn't sure if he had ever actually been truly happy in his entire life, but he supposed this was a start.

Tend your own damn trees, Lucius.