Empty Spaces

Chapter 44

The irony was not lost on Draco that he was here once more, returned to the place that he swore he would never set foot in again.

In all fairness, he'd come back to the Manor because he wanted to, not because he had to. Somehow, it was a distinction that mattered. He had to spend the summer there because he had nowhere else to go. He had to return over the holidays because there was no way he could live with himself if he didn't. The dark, polished marble still loomed overhead; the tapestries were still suffocating; the flames of the chandeliers still sent the same shadows across the walls. But it was bearable now. The difference between drowning and swimming. He sent Merlin off into the fading twilight with his letter, sitting alone in his room at last, reflecting on all that had happened that day.

He wasn't sure what he'd been expecting, if he was being honest with himself. To some extent, Draco had always known that Narcissa was a product of her circumstances, a victim of a life lived outside of her control. But he'd never really been able to figure out exactly where Lucius ended and where Narcissa began. His parents were one, a single unified figure throughout his entire upbringing, and Draco realized there was precious little that he actually knew about his mother. Who was Narcissa without the imposing shadow of her husband looming directly over her?

Someone careful, it would seem. Draco didn't blame her. When your world is among the social elite, a place where every move is deeply scrutinized and every word holds two meanings, you hide your hands and keep your truths so close to your heart that even you yourself doubt whether they are real or not. She hadn't revealed anything substantial to Draco, but the fact that she'd resumed many of her actions as a society lady-- writing letters to this high-born-witch and that up-and-coming-somebody, donating to various causes, commissioning some artist-- told him that she was putting the pieces of her life back together just as he was. Only he wasn't funding the International Society for the Preservation of Magical Bloodlines.

"I can hardly bear to think of it, my love, these poor children being sent to live with whoever, even... Muggles," she whispered the word as if it were something dirty. "Look at what happened to that Harry Potter, a wizard with all the potential in the world, even when one takes into account who his unfortunate mother was– his father was of decent enough ancestry– but the poor boy grew up entirely ignorant under those Muggles and ended up with all these 'progressive' and twisted ideas put into his head instead. Had he been adopted by a proper, loving, pure-blooded family, I'm sure the poor dear would have turned out much differently, don't you agree?"

Draco nodded, holding his tongue and fighting down his anger. Well. At least the last part was true– Harry had said it himself, if he'd been brought up any other way, he certainly wouldn't be who he is now. Draco felt the same. Narcissa continued, undeterred:

"But the Society is working to change that, finding pure-blooded orphans and matching them with equally high-bred families. My heart weeps just thinking about it. Did you know, my love, that there are couples in the world who are unable to have their own children?? I find it all so unbearably tragic, for the one thing that has brought me joy in this whole world was having you, my son. The light in an otherwise dark world. I cannot wait for you to experience this for yourself, but you are young. Take all the time you need, my love. You are a good boy, you always have been. You deserve this joy."

She took Draco's hands in hers, smiling at her son– genuine, happy, caring... There had been a time, long ago, when Draco would have simply accepted and agreed with all these things. But that was Past Draco, and he was Present Draco, and Present Draco was currently being torn in half, alternating between happiness and outrage. Seeing the spark of life return to his mother's eyes, listening to her talk passionately again, feeling the love for him in her voice... If nothing else, Draco would be forever grateful to St Mungo's for this alone. And yet, listening to her view of the world had his heart clenching up inside. Is this really what you think...? Would anything change if you knew...?