Bound by Fate

Chapter 21: A Mother's Interrogation

The morning light filtered through the tall windows of Malfoy Manor, casting long shadows across the dining room. Draco sat at the head of the table, his mind preoccupied with the growing responsibilities of the estate and the fallout from his father's death. The tension in the air had lessened slightly since the wake, but there was still a heaviness that lingered in the manor. And, as much as he tried to push it away, the memory of the pull—that pull—nagged at him constantly.

He hadn't spoken to Hermione about it again since their trip to Diagon Alley, but the connection between them had grown stronger. He felt it even when she wasn't in the same room, like an invisible thread that tugged at him whenever she was near. He didn't understand it, and every time he tried to reason it out, he came up empty.

As he took a sip of his tea, the soft click of heels echoed in the hallway. Narcissa entered the room, her expression calm but her eyes sharp. She moved with her usual grace, but Draco noticed a subtle tension in the way she held herself.

"Good morning, Draco," she said, her voice smooth as silk.

"Morning," Draco replied, his gaze flicking to her as she sat down across from him.

Narcissa poured herself a cup of tea, her movements deliberate, almost too measured. The silence between them stretched for a moment, and Draco could feel something shifting in the air.

"I've noticed," Narcissa began, her tone casual but with an edge of something darker, "that you've been spending quite a bit of time with Hermione lately."

Draco raised an eyebrow, not entirely surprised by her observation. Narcissa always noticed everything, no matter how subtle. "She's been through a lot," he said, trying to sound indifferent. "It's not like there's anyone else here to help her."

Narcissa nodded, taking a slow sip of her tea. "Of course. You've been very attentive to her."

Draco frowned, sensing there was more to this conversation than his mother was letting on. "What are you getting at?"

Narcissa set her cup down, folding her hands neatly in her lap. Her gaze was piercing, her eyes fixed on Draco with a level of intensity that made him uncomfortable. "I've been observing the two of you," she said quietly. "And I've noticed something... unusual."

Draco's heart skipped a beat. He didn't like the way she was looking at him, as if she knew something he didn't. "Unusual?" he repeated cautiously.

Narcissa leaned forward slightly, her voice lowering. "Draco, have you felt something... strange when you're around her? Something you can't explain?"

Draco's chest tightened. His mind immediately went to the pull—the feeling that had drawn him to Hermione in moments of danger, the strange connection he couldn't shake. But how could Narcissa know about that?

"I don't know what you're talking about," Draco said stiffly, trying to deflect.

But Narcissa's gaze didn't waver. "Don't lie to me," she said softly, though her voice carried an edge of warning. "You've felt it. I know you have."

Draco shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his throat tight as he tried to form a response. "I—" He hesitated, unsure of how to explain something he barely understood himself. "I've felt... something," he admitted finally, his voice low. "It's like... I don't know. Like there's this pull between us, something that draws me to her."

Narcissa's expression didn't change, but Draco saw the flicker of understanding in her eyes. She had known all along. "And has she felt it too?" she asked, though Draco could tell she already knew the answer.