Cowboys and Angels

moment twenty-two: "two households, both alike in dignity" (August 1990.)

"I have received a letter of late," he told her once she had responded to his summons, the letter tightly held in his right hand. "I suppose this was your doing?"

Narcissa smoothed down her dress and didn't flinch at the steel in her husband's voice, or the cold light in his eyes. "I have merely tried to provide a suitable environment for our son-"

"You went behind my back!", Lucius roared, and tore the letter in two right there in front of her, tossing away the pieces. "It does not matter," he continued, ever so quietly, measuring out each word, "what you or Snape or Dumbledore may have planned. Draco is going to Durmstrang."

"And what?" Narcissa retorted, almost an entire decade of repressed anger contained in the contempt she now spat at him. "What sort of reputation will he gain from going to the one school that is known throughout the world as a Death Eater training camp?" She kept going, her raw fury unabated. "You have victimised and bullied me, and you have torn to shreds ever scrap of dignity I ever possessed, but this is my son, and I will not let you have my son!" She stood there, quaking, her chest heaving with the force of her emotion, and he merely sat and regarded her as if she was no consequence.

"You forget, Narcissa, he is my son as well, and despite your very best attempts-" there was a barely disguised gloating in his voice "-I have managed to make sure he is indeed he is his father's son. You may indeed consider me heartless for my actions, but I am protecting Draco the best way I know how, and his best protection is to be a Malfoy."

"Oh, I suppose that would make it easier for you. Merlin forbid he ever does anything his god of a father wouldn't want him to, because that might make you realise you didn't have to fuck yourself up the way you did."

Lucius sat, rubbing his left forefinger and thumb together. For all his vaunted influence over Draco - and the boy did look up to him, somewhat as a god, and that was all for the better, his son still had a soft spot for his mother, and thusly to see his mother in great distress might break the hold Lucius had over him.

That could not be borne.

It was in the end, a gamble, but over a relatively minor matter, so Lucius did not think his plans would be greatly jeopardised. If nothing else, Snape could be used to keep the boy in line - even if he objected, the Potions Master knew what expectations Draco would be held to account for, and would guide him through his schooling, hating the duty all the more because he knew Lucius would be benefiting from it.

He bent from his chair to pick the discarded halves of the letter and handed them softly to his wife, who had stifled both tears and fury when she had realised finally, that he was about as malleable as stone, and about as responsive to emotion.

"I think you should send this to Dumbledore," he suggested, brightly, as if the whole melodrama had not occurred. "Let him know we will be enrolling Draco for school next year."

"But Lucius-"

Lucius waved her confusion away with a hand. "I will indulge you this time, for his sake. But make no mistake, Narcissa, this is not some kind of surrender. Whatever you, or Snape, or Dumbledore will do, I have trained Draco to be a Malfoy, nothing more, nothing less. And I am certain no matter what any of you do, my son will remain so, even at such a supportive institution as Hogwarts."

She looked at him blankly, as it slowly dawned upon her that he was so confident of victory that he would give them chances to best him, just to demonstrate how secure he was. And as she began to cry again, the letter wrung between her hands, he dismissed her, and turned back to his desk.