Heir Apparent

Introduction

Draco Malfoy was eagerly awaiting his return to Hogwarts, though when anticipation sets in; the delay extends to a nearly unbearable period. He didn't think he could stand another Malfoy gala for the span of his young life.

Draco hadn't intended to spend his summer being ordered around by the tyrannical dictator who called himself Draco's father. But that was precisely what had happened. Lucius had even vowed to disown and disinherit his only son and therefore rightful heir; causing a tendency for Draco to sulk like the little boy he wasn't. Which was what he was doing at the moment.

Draco was pacing the hallway, feeling like a discarded child's toy, when he heard the crying. Inching closer to the study, he realized the high, feminine voice belonged to his mother, Narcissa. That was the first time he had ever heard her cry. Draco had never seen Narcissa cry. He couldn't even imagine her beautiful face capable of such an illicit thing. Crying was taboo for all Malfoys, to quote Draco's father, "Malfoys have dignity, cunning, and pride. They uphold these qualities by self-confidence and poise. They do not back down in the face of danger, they do not shed a tear, may it be for own personal loss or any other reason..." Draco had heard that many times. Just because it's in the Malfoy Handbook doesn't make it true! Draco thought defiantly.

The thought of Lucius Malfoy revolted Draco. He possessed the aptitude to make you feel wholly contemptible; unworthy of his time or his company. Draco resented everything about his father; especially the expensive designer cloak and boots, the 'status marks' of Lucius Malfoy. But most of all he resented Lucius' treatment of others; the key point in his wrath being Lucius' treatment of Narcissa.

Life, no, Lucius, had used Narcissa ruthlessly. She had been sympathetic, intellectual and ravishingly attractive in her school days. She had never cherished Lucius Malfoy, and vowed to on no account allow herself to be maltreated by his tempestuous wrath, a soldier of fortune. Everyone knew that Narcissa Bardelette was a true suffragette. She lobbied for her own rights and for the rights of every additional woman, whether in the magical community or not.

No one knew how the bold, exquisite Gryffindor Narcissa Bardelette had ended up with Lucius Malfoy. Some said that he used the Imperius Curse on her. Others disagreed, but no one provided an argument of substance otherwise.

Stealing slowly towards the study, Draco had a impulsive urge to go in; to placate his poor, lamenting mother.

Pulling his wand from within his robes, Draco tapped the doorknob slightly and inconspicuously, "Alohomora!" he murmured vigilantly. He heard the bolt sliding...

Narcissa was weeping for her son, for her days at Hogwarts, and for her true and only love.

"Remus, why did I marry Lucius Malfoy when you were the one I loved? Why did I give my life away?" she murmured to the air. The words of her most dear friend came to her...

"Narcissa, I love you. You can come to me any time you need me. I will be here for you, waiting for you..."

Oh, for the days of my childhood, Narcissa thought. Then she heard the door bolt moving.

"Lucius?" she whimpered, "Is that you?" Narcissa was so terribly frightened of Lucius. You could see it in her eyes, etched on her every feature.

The sight of Draco's cheerless, pale face, painted for the first time with an expression of utmost concern, seemed to move Narcissa, to calm her.

"Hello, mum," Draco whispered, "I er-was wondering if you were okay..." Narcissa's red, tear-streaked face broke into the smallest of smiles.

"Oh Draco, my darling son," she cooed lovingly, caressing his silvery-blond hair, like a true mother with her son for the very first time, as if just seeing that he was real. Draco's face reddened with grief at her use of his child pet names, then gradually faded back to its milky-white colour.

"We'll get away someday! Get away from this madness!" Narcissa exclaimed abruptly, "I won't have my son raised in such a hostile environment." There were light footsteps down the hallway, growing ever in volume as they passed near the door. Narcissa clutched Draco's hand, praying that Lucius would pass by with no notice of the two, prone, tear-streaked faces in the study.

There was something to add to the day's list of firsts. Draco Malfoy was crying. He was crying blistering, bitter tears for his mother, for her coercion. Indeed, Draco Malfoy was crying.