Marked

The Heir

Chapter 23: The Heir

Malfoy Manor, 1991

. . . . . . . .

"Are you nervous, Draco?"

He looked away. He was, of course, but he was hardly going to disclose that fact to his mother. He was practically an adult now, for heaven's sake.

"No," he sniffed haughtily. "I just hope Hogwarts hasn't actually tumbled in prestige the way you and Father seem to think it has, or else I don't see why I'm not going to Durmstrang."

"Oh, don't listen to your father," Narcissa said gently, touching her hand softly to the silvery strands of her son's hair. "He and I both loved our time at school, and so will you."

He sighed loudly, parroting his father's words. "Well of course you did, you got to go to Hogwarts before the Ministry was taken over by this wretched muggle-loving government - "

"Darling." Narcissa knelt to meet his eyes, lifting his chin with her finger. "Draco, my love, your father worries about grown-up things. It's nothing you need concern yourself with." She smiled at him, her blue eyes uncharacteristically warm and filled with the look of adoration she reserved only for him. "You just enjoy it, won't you?"

"Yes, Mother," he said obediently, ducking his head as she kissed his cheek. "And - "

He hesitated, and her lips curled up in a knowing smile. "Yes?" she asked. "What is it, Draco?"

He leaned forward, lowering his head as though he worried someone might hear. "What if I don't like it?" he asked softly, his voice fearful. Expressing insecurity or concern was hardly the Malfoy way, and his father would surely be horrified to hear him be so humiliatingly foolish - but it was a moment of weakness he reserved only for her. "And what if they don't like me?"

"Darling, everyone will love you," she assured him, taking his small hand in hers even as her eyes flashed dangerously. "Anyone who doesn't is a fool," she added sharply, "and I pity them for breathing."

He sighed. "Yes, but - "

"And you'll be home again for Christmas," she reminded him, her tone softening again. "You'll be back here before you know it." She crouched down once more, strangely unconcerned with the placement of her skirt as the expensive material trailed on the ground. "This will always be your home, Draco. Remember that. You will always be home here."

He ducked his head against hers, putting his lips near her ear. "I'll miss you, Mother," he whispered, embarrassed by the statement despite being confidently assured that she wouldn't tell a soul.

She smiled. "Oh Draco," she said fondly, tucking a stray hair behind his ear. "Oh darling, you'll never know how much I'll miss you."

. . . . . . . .

Forest of Dean, 1997

. . . . . . . .

"Check the list. Though I have a sneaking suspicion you won't find his name."

Fucking Greyback, Draco thought furiously. They should have killed him when they had the chance.

"What do we do?" Granger whispered fearfully in his ear, fidgeting. "I - my wand - "

"Mine's in the tent, too," Draco hissed between nervously clenched teeth. "See if you can move back there - "

She took a step behind her but her heel came down heavily on the unbalanced ground, landing on something with a loud, disruptive crunch.

"Stop," Draco said instantly, gripping her arm. "Stop, don't move - "