Questions and Answers

little_bird

Story Summary:
What happens when the past collides with the present and threatens to cast the Potters' and Weasleys' lives into disarray...

Chapter 11 - Shades Of Contrast

Posted:
04/04/2010
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1,988


Narcissa and Daphne stared at each other across the table. 'Do you think that's how he's going to treat Scorpius from now on?' Daphne asked apprehensively.

Narcissa turned her gaze to the doorway where Draco's fading staccato footfalls could still be heard against the floor. 'I wish I knew.'

Daphne leaned back in her chair, and reached for her wineglass. She took a long sip, and cradled it in her hands. 'You should have seen him when Scorpius wrote to us the first time after he'd been Sorted. Draco was livid.' Daphne's face darkened. 'Actually, "livid" doesn't even begin to do it justice. He was ready to go to Hogwarts and remove Scorpius. Wanted to send Scorpius to Durmstrang right then and there.' Daphne traced a fingertip around the rim of her glass. 'He blamed me. Told me I'd raised our son to be a ponce, and no decent pure-blood would ever be in Gryffindor.' She gave Narcissa a weak smile. 'Of course, he'd been drinking at the time...' she added softly.

Narcissa reached for her own glass of wine. She was speechless. She knew many pure-blood families still clung to the idea that their children should be in Slytherin, and mixing with Muggle-borns or half-bloods was discouraged. She also knew of a few families who would still disown their children if they flouted convention, and were Sorted into a different House, or married a pure-blood or Muggle-born.

She just hadn't realized how deeply it was ingrained into her own son. Living so far away for so many years, only seeing Draco interact with Scorpius for brief moments during the time they visited Nice during holidays. Not for the first time, Narcissa wished she had done more to counteract what Lucius had done with Draco when their son was younger. But she'd had little choice in the matter then. It was dangerous to be a Malfoy and disregard Voldemort. Especially since Lucius was a Death Eater and answered to no one, save Voldemort himself.

There was little love lost between Narcissa and Lucius. Her parents and his parents had arranged the marriage. While they had been married for nearly forty years, Narcissa was forced to admit she had never really loved Lucius. It had evolved over the years into something like companionship, but in the two years before Voldemort's defeat, Lucius had been humiliated and crushed to the point where he had little interest in anything outside of Draco or Scorpius until the day he died.

'Narcissa?' Daphne's soft voice broke into Narcissa's reverie.

'Sorry. Woolgathering.' Narcissa set her wineglass down with a soft thump, and stood. 'If you don't mind, dear, I think I'm going to go up to bed.'

'Of course,' Daphne said quickly. 'You must be tired after your journey. I think I'm not long for this night, either.'

Narcissa patted Daphne on the shoulder, and left the dining room. She put one foot on the staircase, when she heard the sound of liquid purling into a glass. It came from the study. Squaring her shoulders, Narcissa marched into the room.

Draco sprawled in an armchair, facing the fireplace, a glass of Firewhisky dangling from his fingers. Narcissa closed the door, and quickly cast a Silencing charm on it. She had a feeling it was going to get ugly. And fast.

'Would you mind explaining why you're so insistent on treating your son like he's less than the mud you scrape off your shoe?' Narcissa demanded.

Draco looked up at her, and lifted his glass, taking a swallow of the whisky. 'It's none of your business, Mother.'

Narcissa reared back a little. 'Excuse me?'

'He's my son. I'll treat him any way I choose.'

'You mean you still feel like you have to make up for letting your father down by not being the perfect replica, and you've spent that child's entire life attempting to mold him into something he's obviously not.'

Draco glowered up at Narcissa. 'That has nothing to do with it.' He slammed the heavy-bottomed crystal glass on the low table next to the chair.

'So you mean to tell me the fact you haven't actually spoken to Scorpius in almost a year, because you're angry he didn't get Sorted into Slytherin?' Narcissa spat. 'Draco, you're thirty-eight, not eight. He's not a toy you can toss into a box when you tire of it.' Her eyes glittered in anger.

Draco pulled himself to his feet, and snatched the bottle from his desk. 'Why do you care so much?' he snarled. 'You never said anything against Father, or how I was raised when I was a child. I don't seem remember you getting this worked up when I was forced to join them.'

'You think I had a choice? Your father would have shoved me into the streets with nothing more than the clothes on my back and I had nowhere else to go!' Narcissa shouted. 'You think I wanted you to get the Mark? You think I wanted you to take your father's place? I did everything I could think of to keep you alive! Because you're my son!'

'I had less of a choice than you did.' Draco splashed more whisky into his glass. 'Besides, he should be around his own kind.'

'His own kind?' repeated Narcissa bemusedly.

'Are you deaf? Yes. His own kind.'

'Do not use that tone with me, Draco. I'm still your mother,' said Narcissa icily. 'And be so kind as to explain what "his own kind" means.'

'He should be around other pure-blood families,' Draco shot at her.

'Because that worked out so well for you, did it?' Narcissa sank into a chair. 'How can you say that? After everything you went through, how in Merlin's name can you believe in any of that any more?'

Draco whirled to face Narcissa. 'Because I don't have anything else! Everything I was raised to believe is gone. Everything I was taught to believe is gone. Everything but that.' Draco raked a hand through his hair. 'I married the perfect pure-blood witch, had a son. A son who could carry on with the family tradition,' he said bitterly. 'And look what happened. She coddled him, turned him into some... bloody poof.

'Then, my son. My only child is Sorted, not into Slytherin, as generations of Malfoys have been, but into Gryffindor. Sodding Gryffindor. Home to every tossing Muggle-born, half-blood, and worse, blood-traitor.'

'So you're going to just pretend he doesn't exist?' Narcissa asked incredulously, hoping it was merely the liquor speaking for Draco, and his words were not indicative of how he felt.

'Can't exactly do what your family did, now can I, Mother? If I disowned him, there wouldn't be an heir to the Malfoy name.' Draco slumped into his chair. 'I cannot be proud of him, of what he's done, because I've only asked one thing of him - to not bring shame to the family. And he failed.'

'Then you're a fool,' Narcissa responded softly. 'It took nearly losing you for me to see how wrong it all was. I lost family over that nonsense. Family I never had a chance to reconcile with.'

'Well, that's just too damn bad for you, isn't it?' spat Draco sardonically. 'I could care less, if you want to know. And as for Scorpius.' Draco paused and turned to look at his mother. 'He's just turned out to be a bigger disappointment to me, than I ever was to Father.' Turning back around, clearly in dismissal, he said off-handedly, 'Make sure you close the door when you leave, Mother.'

Stunned, Narcissa gaped at the back of Draco's head for a moment, before she swiftly stood, and slipped out of the study. She felt decades older than her sixty-three years. She trudged up the stairs, and stopped by Scorpius' partially open bedroom door. Narcissa knocked lightly on the door. 'Scorpius?' she called softly. A muffled snuffling sound was her only answer.

Narcissa slowly went into the room, and found Scorpius huddled in a corner of the room, wrapped in a blanket. The transformation of her grandson from the happy, excited boy from that afternoon to the bundle of misery in front of her made her ache. He raised his face from his knees, eyes swimming with unshed tears. 'Did he mean it?' he asked stonily.

'Who?'

'Father. Did he mean it?' Scorpius repeated.

Narcissa sighed, and sat on the edge of Scorpius' bed. 'Come here.' He stumbled to sit next to Narcissa. 'How did you hear? I put a Silencing charm on the door.'

Scorpius reluctantly opened his hand to reveal a flesh-colored string coiled in his palm. 'Extendable Ear.'

'Those things are still around?'

'Uh-huh. You'd have to put up an Impenetrable charm to keep it from working.'

'Scorpius, you know you shouldn't eavesdrop like that.'

'I know.' Scorpius fidgeted a bit, coiling and uncoiling the Extendable Ear a few times. 'Grandmother, you didn't answer my question,' he prompted.

Narcissa massaged her temples. 'I don't know,' she admitted. She pulled Scorpius into a tight embrace. 'I don't know.'

*****

A crash and a yelp echoed from upstairs. Ginny irritably scowled at the ceiling. It was the tenth crash of the night. 'James Sirius Potter, I am not repairing anything you break tonight!' she yelled. 'And neither is your father,' she added as an afterthought.

'I'm not doing what?' Harry asked, coming in the sitting room from the kitchen.

'Repairing anything the heathens have broken tonight,' she sighed. Another yelp, followed by Lily's angry screech floated down to the sitting room.

'Albus Severus, if I have to come up there, you will not see the business end of a broomstick for a week!' shouted Harry. He closed his eyes. 'How many more weeks until September first?' he asked Ginny wearily.

'Eight,' she answered promptly.

'You're not counting or anything, are you?'

'No more than you,' Ginny retorted.

Harry winced as a door slammed. 'Does that make us bad parents?'

'Only if it made Mum and Dad bad parents. Mum marked off the days until September first.'

'Al asked if Scorpius could come for a weekend,' Harry remarked casually.

'What did you say?'

'That I had to talk to you about it first.'

'Way to avoid, Potter.' Ginny applauded sardonically.

'We should talk about it, Gin.' Harry stretched. 'But not here.' He settled into the sofa, resting his head in Ginny's lap. 'When we go to bed. There are enough Silencing charms on that bedroom door to mute a herd of elephants.' He looked up at Ginny, his eyes limpid green pools. 'I'll give you a backrub after the heathens are in bed,' he offered.

Whatever response Ginny had to Harry was quickly lost in a howl. 'James, give that back!' Lily wailed.

'L.P. loves S.M.?' James crowed, before dissolving into whoops of laughter.

'Give it back, James!' Lily's voice was working its way up to genuine anger.

'Who's S.M.?' Al asked curiously.

'Nobody!' ground out Lily. 'Just give me my notebook back, you prat!'

Harry hauled himself to his feet, and pulled Ginny to hers. 'This is a job for both of us,' he commented, as they headed up the stairs. 'I'll take the boys, if you handle Lily.'

'I can live with that.'

Upstairs, James bounced on his bed, a composition book in his outstretched left hand, while his right hand fended off attacks from Lily. Al was trying to get a good look at the cover which had been decorated with the initials of 'L.P.' and 'S.M.', while also trying to duck the wild swings Lily was aiming at the two of them. 'Enough!' bellowed Harry, plucking Lily from the bed, and turning to deposit her in Ginny's arms. Ginny half-carried, half-dragged a protesting Lily from the room, as Harry glared at his sons.

James had the decency to look abashed, while Al went pale and wide-eyed. Harry skewered Al with a look, and stonily pointed to James' bedroom door. 'Out,' he ordered shortly. Al slid off James' bed, and scurried to his own room. Harry jabbed his wand at the door, slamming it closed, and silently held out his hand, his eyes shooting daggers at James. James bowed his head, and placed Lily's notebook in Harry's palm. 'Sit down,' Harry said quietly. James folded himself, sitting cross-legged on the bed.

Harry was not nearly as upset as his behavior allowed. But he maintained the façade, knowing if he cracked, James would be impossible to deal with the rest of the summer. 'What have your mother and I told you about going through your sister's things?'

'Not to do it,' mumbled James.

'Exactly. So. Not only did you break a rule of this house, you also tormented your baby sister, too, did you not?'

'Yes, sir.' James was staring at his feet.

'James Sirius Potter, look at me when I'm talking to you,' said Harry softly, a faint edge to his voice.

James raised his eyes to Harry's face. He hated it when Harry was angry with him. It made him feel like flobberworm mucus. Harry rarely yelled or raised his voice beyond the initial bark to get their attention, which made the quiet interrogation feel all the worse.

'You are not to go flying for a week. If you so much as say "boo" to either Lily or Al in this time, it will be two weeks. You will clean the broom shed and the storage shed next week, starting on Monday. The storage shed will be organized and neat. The broom shed also needs a coat of whitewash.' Harry paused and dispassionately gazed at the top of his oldest son's head. 'Any questions?'

'No, sir.' James gaze sank back to his toes.

Harry sighed, and used a finger to tip up James' chin. 'James, I expect better from you. You're the oldest. You're going to be fourteen this year. You haven't been home a full day, and you're bouncing off the walls. Would you mind telling me why?'

James chewed his lower lip for a moment. 'It's kind of fun to see Lily get all wound up like that,' he said defensively.

Harry's eyebrows rose into his fringe. 'You're just like your Uncle Fred, you know,' he said casually. 'And your grandfather.'

'Granddad? My Granddad? The one who tinkers with Muggle rubbish? Arthur Weasley, the most mild-mannered man I know?'

'No, prat. My father. You're just like him.' Harry regarded James thoughtfully. 'He did grow out of it eventually. I suppose there's hope for you after all.' Harry strode to the door, using magic to open it silently. 'Go to bed. Good night, James.'

'Good night, Dad.' James heaved a sigh, and flopped back into the bed. He wondered if Fred and Jacob had gotten into trouble yet.

Harry slowly released the breath he'd drawn as he left James' room. Al's door was open, and he could see the boy sitting on his bed, feet dangling over the edge. Harry could hear the angry weeping coming from behind Lily's closed door, and Ginny's voice trying to soothe her. He went into Al's room, and closed the door. 'So,' Harry said quietly.

'I'm sorry, Dad.'

'It's not me you need to apologize to. It's Lily.' Harry pulled out the chair from Al's small desk and sat down in it. 'This isn't like you. You don't normally go along with James when he gets in a mood to tease Lily like that.'

Al said nothing, but shrugged.

'Albus Severus,' Harry warned. 'I'd like an answer.'

Al drew in a shaky breath and his wide green eyes met Harry's narrowed ones. 'I just wanted to see what James was going on about,' he mumbled.

'Why didn't you stop James from doing that to Lily?'

'But -'

'But nothing, Albus. You're Lily's older brother, and it's your job to protect her.'

'Even from James?'

'Until Lily's a bit bigger, especially from James.'

'Why?'

Harry raised an eyebrow in response. 'You, of all people in this house, know what it's like to be on the receiving end of James' pranks. That should be enough of a reason.' He stretched out his feet in front of him. 'One day, Lily will be big enough, or loud enough, to take care of him herself. But right now, she needs you. And you let her down.'

'Oh,' Al whispered, head bowed.

'No flying for a week,' Harry pronounced.

Al's head flew up. He had just received a Comet 1250 for his birthday, a week ago. It wasn't a racing broom, but a decent one for school Quidditch. Al had been planning to put it through its paces over the summer. 'Yes, sir,' he mumbled.

'And you will apologize to Lily tomorrow,' Harry added.

Al nodded silently, his eyes glued to the toes of his socks.

'And, you will also help James clean and organize the storage shed, and clean and whitewash the broom shed. Starting on Monday.'

'Yes, sir.'

'Your mum and I are going to discuss whether or not Scorpius can come visit over the summer. We will take this into account.'

Al felt the bottom of his stomach drop. He hadn't thought that this would affect his request to have Scorpius over for a visit. He nodded once.

'Go to bed, Albus.' Harry stood and returned the chair to its place under the desk. 'Good night.'

'Good night, Dad,' Al replied in a tiny voice.

Harry left the room, and closed the door behind him, meeting Ginny in the hallway. 'How's Lily?' he asked.

'She's fine, just angry at her gits of older brothers for the teasing, more than the notebook-snatching.'

'Is that what you were like when you were her age?' Harry asked interestedly. 'The only time I ever really saw you that young was when I was twelve, and you spent the whole summer lurking in dark corners.'

The corners of Ginny's mouth quirked upward. 'Just a little bit. Except it was worse. I had six older brothers giving me a hard time.' She went into their bedroom, and fell across the bed, rolling over to her back. Harry followed suit, and turned his head to look at Ginny, who was giggling.

'What's so funny?' he demanded.

'Lily.' Ginny rolled to her side, and propped her head up on one hand. 'You do realize who 'S.M.' is, don't you?'

Harry looked at Ginny perplexed. 'Erm... no.'

Ginny began to howl with laughter, collapsing onto her back again. 'Oh, Merlin help me, you're just as hopeless as you were when you were fourteen!' she crowed.

Harry frowned. 'It's not that Samuel Martin bloke in her class is it? You know, that kid with the Muggle dad who lives on the other side of the village?'

Ginny fizzed with laughter. 'And when have you ever heard Lily mention Samuel Martin?'

'Uh... never...' Harry sighed in defeat.

'She just put that on her notebook in January.' At Harry's questioning look, she added helpfully, 'After the boys went back to school.'

'So? It could be Samuel Martin!'

Ginny snorted, 'Not bloody likely.'

'Are you going to tell me or no?'

'You mean you still can't figure it out?' Ginny stared at him in disbelief. 'I think you've been friends with Ron too long, love.'

Harry groaned. 'Ginny! Are you going to tell me or not?'

'Fine,' Ginny smirked. She sat up and looked at Harry, trying not to laugh. 'It's Scorpius Malfoy,' she announced.

Harry sat up so fast; he nearly slid off the bed. 'No!' he breathed.

'Who else would it be? She talks about him all the time.' Ginny gave Harry a look. 'Well,' she considered. 'Not when you're in the room, at any rate. She still has nightmares of the time you saw Jack Finch kiss her on the playground at school.' Ginny couldn't help herself. She began to giggle again.

'It's not funny, Ginny.' Harry glowered at his wife, who seemed to think the whole thing was hilarious.

'Oh, Harry, relax. It's just a harmless childhood crush. Hardly deep, passionate, undying love. Besides, she's only nine.'

'Almost ten.'

'Do you want her to grow up faster?'

'No. Nine, then.' Harry rubbed the back of his neck. 'So... what are we going to tell Al? About whether or not Scorpius can come for a visit?'

Ginny sobered a bit. 'After tonight?'

Harry stretched out across the bed again. 'It's not like Al started it.' He traced the lines of Ginny's upturned hand, lying next to his face. 'I was thinking he could come in two weeks.'

'Are you sure?'

'Not really. I'm still not convinced he's not a Malfoy.'

'Harry, let it go, already.' Ginny sighed. 'If he was a carbon copy of his father, we wouldn't be sitting here having this conversation.' She turned her hand over, and captured Harry's fingers. 'Two weeks, huh? I think we can do that.'

Harry kissed the tips of Ginny's fingers. 'For safety's sake, let's make sure we put the butter dish on the other side of the table from Lily, in case she puts her elbow in it, too. I think I've still got lint on my tongue,' he teased his wife.

'Prat,' Ginny said softly, leaning down to kiss him.

'You know you love me.'

'Yes, I do.'