A Mother's Place

Lucius Malfoy has been a good husband to me. I want to make that perfectly clear from the start. And he's a good father, too, whatever vile stories you may have heard. Lucius was strict - of course he was - but Draco idolises him. Any fool could see that!

Oh yes, don't think that I haven't heard those rumours. Don't think that I care, either. Envious people will always gossip about their betters, spreading slander, rejoicing at our misfortune, trying to make out that I'm an object of pity. Pity! Me, Narcissa Malfoy, née Black! As if I had misjudged in my choice of husband.

No. We Blacks do not make such mistakes. Not, at least, those of us who uphold the honour of our family.

I won't deny Lucius can be stubborn at times. I won't pretend it's all been wine and roses. No marriage is, and only empty-headed romantics expect it to be – as if the words of the marriage vow don't make it perfectly clear that one has to work at it!

Not that being clear-headed from the start necessarily makes it easy... but I was fortunate. Lucius always listened to reason.

Ah, does that surprise you? It shouldn't. Have you ever seen me reduced to attending a party in last year's robe? Lucius appreciates the importance of such things – unlike some wizards I could mention. And it seems to be common knowledge that I persuaded him not to send Draco to Durmstrang.

Actually, that's not quite true – Draco was always going to attend Hogwarts, once Lucius had demonstrated his contempt for Dumbledore. All I did was remind him of that.

Though I won't deny that he... surprised me at the time. Not the reason, more the manner of...

Well, it doesn't do to dwell on such things. It doesn't do to think of how it used to be, to remember those perfectly normal Sunday mornings: the family breakfast, followed by Lucius leafing through the Sunday Prophet, Draco out practising his flying, and the latest issue of Enchanting Roses for me...

Just like that day, except it was the Parkinsons' invitation I was reading that morning. That's what started it... No, that's not true. Lucius had already started it, he just hadn't seen fit to... Well.

*

The Parkinsons were hosting a party for all the children – all the children who mattered, that is – who were going up to school that autumn. It was therefore essential that we do the same, and it's never too early to plan a party. Not if one wishes to demonstrate the effortless grace that befits one's position.

But when I said as much to Lucius, he just shrugged. "Draco won't be going to Hogwarts," he said.

I am rarely lost for words – knowing precisely what to say in any given situation is, after all, one of the most essential social skills for a well-bred witch. But that time I couldn't quite believe what I'd heard.

Lucius raised one of his eyebrows in that infuriating manner of his. "He's going to Durmstrang." And then he had the gall to pick up his newspaper again!

"Indeed," I said, with all the iciness of the North Wing in winter. "And were you planning to inform me of this at some point?"

"I just have."

"Lucius!"

He folded up his paper and put it aside. "I knew you would overreact."

"I am not overreacting!"

He raised his eyebrow again. To think there was a time when I found that...

Anyhow. It had been a long time since I let him get away with that diversion.

"It is not overreacting when you fail to involve me in such an important decision for our son," I said. "Not to mention our social engagements. What were you planning to say when all of our friends start discussing how their children are getting on at Hogwarts?"

"I'm sure you'll manage, love. You always do."

"But I'm going to look ridiculous! All the arrangements I've been making – what am I supposed to tell everyone?"

"What arrangements can you possibly have made? The start of term is months away."

Men!

I sat back, and raised an eyebrow of my own. "I really think, dear, that it is you who should be answering questions about arrangements. Evidently you're the one who's been making them."

His mouth twitched as he dipped his head. It was an old game between us, this verbal duelling, but it had never been less a game than it was that morning. And we both knew it.

"There's nothing much to tell," he said. "I wrote to the Headmaster to enquire whether a place might be available and he has recently informed me that it will."

"And you trust Igor Karkaroff?"

"Of course I don't trust Karkaroff! That's precisely the point!"

"What, you want to use our son to spy on him?"

"No, I want him to have a proper education, which is more than he'd get from that Muggle-loving fool Dumbledore. And I don't want him mixing with the wrong sort of people." He steepled his fingers. "As a parent, I'll be expected to involve myself in the life of the school, so I'll have ample opportunity to do any spying myself – though naturally I will expect Draco to develop his observational skills alongside everything else."

"And you don't think Igor will have thought of that?"

"He knows better than to cross me. Can you say the same for Dumbledore?"

"It's not the same, and you know it!"

"Of course it's not the same! Come on, Narcissa, surely you remember how he treats Slytherins! At Durmstrang Draco can spend his time developing his talents instead of fighting prejudice!"

But Draco was only eleven – and a young eleven at that. He was going to find Hogwarts hard enough, away from the father he worshipped. But Durmstrang...

"You..." I did my best to steady my voice; crying in front of one's husband is rarely productive. "You're really going to do it, aren't you? But... it's so far away!"

"Exactly – he'll have to stand on his own two feet. It'll be character-building. And he'll have friends at his intellectual level."

"He has friends at his intellectual level. What about Pansy? Or little Theo?"

"Theodore Nott? Hmm...." He stared at the fire for a moment. "But no. I fear Draco would take the easy route and spend all his time with Crabbe and Goyle's sons."

"There's nothing wrong with Gregory and Vincent. They were most charming when they came for tea and cake last week."

Lucius made no reply to that. Well, I suppose Draco's friends had eaten rather a lot of cake.

"He'll miss his friends," I said.

"You mean you'll miss him," he replied.

Getting personal was beneath him – and never failed to irritate me.

"It's not just your decision! I am his mother!"

He frowned. "You are a Malfoy."

"So my opinion doesn't matter to you?"

He smiled a smile I recognised from a million cocktail parties. "Of course it does, Narcissa. And of course I want your support. I wish you could have given it now, but when you've thought about it you'll agree that this is for the best."

But... we'd always discussed everything! Well, everything that was relevant. I- I needed to think. I needed to get away before I risked making an exhibition of myself.

I made my excuses and withdrew.

But as I entered the hallway, the click of a closing door interrupted my thoughts.

Draco. He must have been on the landing.

I stood there for a moment. The pendulum of the tall clock in the corner was swinging quietly to the same steady beat it had held for centuries, while the scent of wax rose from the sun-warmed banister. Everything was safely in its place. Normal.

Except that my husband had just told me my opinions were irrelevant.

But I was Draco's mother!

Well, and there was no arguing with Lucius when he was set in that mood. I would play my next hand later. First I had to go to be a mother to his son.

*

I knew Draco would want to pretend he hadn't been listening, so I waited a few minutes before I went looking for him. I found him in the library, sitting hunched in the window-seat with a massive book in his arms. He slammed it shut it as soon he saw me.

I recognised the cover: it was our much-thumbed copy of An Appraisal of Magical Education in Europe.

Oh, Draco.

"Hello, Mother," he said.

I forced a bright smile. "Were you reading about your new school?"

He nodded glumly, his gaze fixed on my shoes.

"Aren't you looking forward to going to Hogwarts, then?"

He looked at me then, blinking. "Mum... I heard you and Dad talking."

I sighed, and Summoned a chair so I could sit beside him.

"I wasn't meaning to," he said. "I was just going up to my room and..."

"It's all right, Draco."

We sat in silence for a minute.

"I know you were looking forward to being at school with all your friends," I told him. "Do you want me to say something to your father?"

"No, Mum, please don't. It's okay."

But his voice was trembling. He was trying so hard not to cry, my little Draco. I longed to take him in my arms, but I couldn't. He'd have broken down if I'd done that, and then he'd never have forgiven me.

I stood up and gazed out of the window, blinking away my own tears – I couldn't have borne his look of contempt, had he seen me displaying the weakness he was trying so hard to hide.

When I knew it was safe, I looked down at him. He smiled bravely back.

"You'll make your father proud, Draco."

It was all I could trust myself to say.

*

I escaped to my rose-garden. The blooms were beautiful and fragrant, and yet...

Too many reminders. The iron bench where he proposed, his almost-sardonic smile that first time he presented me with roses, that day when he-

Well. Never mind that.

The sunshine failed to dispel the gloom of the day, and the tension lasted through dinner. Lucius was more distant than usual; I don't know if he even noticed how quiet Draco was being. And I... I had nothing to say.

But much to think.

*

I went to our bedchamber early that night. I was seated at my dressing-table, combing out my hair, when he came in.

He said nothing.

I watched in the mirror as he changed into his nightrobe, climbed into bed and picked up a book. When I joined him, he Noxed the light and turned away.

It was... insulting. Yes.

But I slid closer to him, resting my chin on his shoulder and reaching over to caress his chest.

He grunted. "You're not getting round me that way, Narcissa."

I laughed quietly and nuzzled his ear. "I wouldn't dream of trying, love."

And then... Well. It is vulgar to dwell on the intimacies of the marriage bed. Suffice it to say that when a woman has been married as long as I have, she knows exactly how to make her husband pay attention. And as for Lucius – let us just say that at least some of the rumours are justified.

I don't sleep in that room now, of course. It wouldn't be right.

So we affirmed that he was my husband, and I was his wife. But what, I wondered as we lay curled in each others' arms afterwards, did that mean?

It meant we were married. Anything beyond that was up to me.

"What are you going to tell Draco?" I murmured.

I could feel the sudden tension in his arms. "Draco will do as he is told."

"Of course he will," I soothed. "He thinks the world of you, you know."

"You're too soft on that boy."

"I love him," I said. "I may show it differently from you, but that's my job. I'm a mother."

"Hmpf." He rolled onto his back.

"Just as your job," I said teasingly, "will be to correct his Dark Arts techniques when he comes home from Durmstrang."

He propped himself up on his elbows. "I was going to teach him that."

"And I'm sure he'd have liked you to. But there's still the holidays."

"It's not the same, though. Correcting errors isn't like..."

"Don't worry about it," I said. "We'll have enough to teach him as it is. He'll only have the holidays to forge alliances with the right people in Britain, remember."

"He'll have allies abroad, though. None of his peers will have that advantage."

"True. But we'll have to be careful, Lucius. Everyone will think we're aligning ourselves with Karkaroff."

He drew me to him, and I laid my head on his chest. "We'll manage," he said. "No one worth talking about cares what the Ministry set thinks."

But it wasn't just the Ministry I was talking about, and he knew it.

"How did Igor react when you approached him?" I asked.

"He was more than happy to accept Draco. Why shouldn't he be?"

"So he seemed very pleased about it, then?"

"Yes!"

"Hmmm."

"What?"

"Oh, nothing," I said. "Do you think he'll want you to join the governing council?"

"I don't know. Durmstrang isn't exactly the most convenient place to get to."

"I suppose not." I idly wound a strand of his hair around my finger. "It's a pity, though," I continued. "It would have been interesting for you to compare notes with Ivy Parkinson."

"Ivy Parkinson? Is she going to be a Hogwarts governor?"

"Oh, you mustn't say anything," I told him. "Nothing's officially been decided yet. But you know old Victor Lenoir is stepping down."

"I hadn't heard."

"Well, what with Vivien taking her NEWTS this year..."

"Is she? The last time I saw her, she was about fourteen!"

I laughed, and tugged at his hair, and let go. "That's what you get for refusing to go to Ivy's soirées. All that gossip you miss out on!"

He snorted. "Ivy's soirées are invariably populated by frumpy middle-aged witches who couldn't win a debate with a Flobberworm!"

"Why, thank you, darling."

"You know I didn't mean you!"

"Well, you'd better not mean Ivy, either. She's going to be a very influential person."

"There's more than one way of being influential."

"And you know them all. Which is why you'll start ingratiating yourself with Ivy Parkinson, if you still want to do something about Hogwarts."

"I have a perfect right to speak out about this country's sorry excuse for wizarding education!"

"Of course you do. But without a child at the school… Well, you know how the governors resent outside interference. You don't want to drive them to side with Dumbledore, after all."

"Oh, they're not likely to do that." He pushed my hair out of my face and stroked my cheek.

I lifted my head to kiss him lightly on his forehead. "I'm sure they won't, if you say they won't. You always have everything so well thought out."

"Mmm." He yawned.

I yawned.

He put his arms round me.

And we talked no more about it, then or ever.

*

You see? There wasn't really any question about sending Draco to Hogwarts. Lucius knew what was for the best, after all. He always did. And no one could get him to change his mind once it was really made up.

It used to infuriate me at times, though now there are times when I wish...

Well. I'm a Malfoy, and a Black. Witches of my station don't wallow in the past – we hold our heads high, no matter what people say.

And they find plenty to say, as you well know – though rarely to my face. Not that I let it get to me. I know Lucius isn't 'evil'. He's just a wizard who knows what he wants and – unlike most people – isn't afraid to do what it takes to get it. And for that those spineless cowards at the Ministry sent him to-

I hate to think of him buried in that place. As if he were nothing but a common criminal!

No. I'm not going to say he's been a 'good' wizard: Lucius is what he is, and he would scorn such a label. But he's been a good husband to me, and a good father to my son – and I will not be ashamed to stand by him.