The Good Son

It wasn't easy being a single parent.

Especially the single parent of an out-of-control child.

Draco hadn't always been this way, though. Once upon a time, he was rather well-behaved - always keeping up with his studies and attending dinner parties with his friends. Oh, their new house elf squeaked and wailed that Master Draco was doing 'naughty bad things', but the little imbecile was probably trying to call attention to itself. Draco was by no means perfect, but he was a good boy. Still, the elf's accusations would support her unsettling conversation with Mrs. Parkinson recently.

**********

She held the tome in her porcelain hands, reading the title under her breath. "'Contraceptive Potions and Other Practical Bedroom Magic' by Venusia Llewelyn." Something knotted in the pit of her stomach at the thought of Draco fooling around with magic of a sexual nature - he was still much too young for that sort of thing. However, that fact did not quell her feeling of unease. "Really, Finella, this doesn't mean a thing. Draco would never--"

"Our house elf found that book under Pansy's knickers. If you think Draco incapable of this, then you must not be watching him closely."

There weren't many things that bruised her healthy ego, but that beast of a woman happened to touch upon one of them. "How dare you insinuate that I can't raise my child in a proper manner!?"

"Narcissa, we both know Lucius is the one with the harder hand. Draco -listens- to him." She sighed. "I know it's hard to accept, dear, but the children are arriving at that stage where they become curious about--"

"Stop, I don't want to hear anymore of this, this nonsense! Draco wouldn't dare--oh!"

**********

That evening, an owl had arrived, stating that Draco was practicing magic outside of Hogwarts, which was strictly forbidden. After writing letters to both Hogwarts and the Ministry in an attempt to keep him enrolled, she had broached the subject to Draco. Not surprisingly, he denied all knowledge of the book and practicing magic, adding that Pansy was a loose girl with immoral values, which he knew best to ignore. He was a good boy, after all.

She had believed him then.

Now, she did not know what to believe.

Now, she sat quietly in the study, drinking a warm cup of tea to calm her nerves. The fact that the mansion was currently empty - save for the house elves - would normally be a comfort, but not today. Not lately.

Ever since Lucius landed himself in Azkaban, Draco had been nothing but a loose cannon. Always skipping breakfast to go out with his friends, coming back only when he ran out of Galleons to spend, arriving home at the latest of hours with the stench of ale or smoke or something she dared not to identify. No matter how many times she reprimanded him or removed his broom privileges, he would always find a way out of his punishment - or his room.

That Draco, so clever and resourceful. In a way, she could not see fit to blame him; his father meant the world to him, after all. To have his hero locked up in a horrible prison, all because of that Boy-Who-Would-Not-Die, must have killed him inside. She knew about this kind of cycle, really, having come from a long line of Death Eaters. Children separated from their parents tend to be angrier, commit acts out of spite and vent their frustrations out to whoever was near.

However justified, though, this sort of behavior was still inexcusable.

The fireplace before her suddenly went ablaze, which would have sent her five feet in the air if she had not been expecting it. Sure enough, there was the face of an ugly-looking creature with giant ears and sharp, pointy teeth staring back at her from behind horn-rimmed glasses.

"I'm sorry to be botherin' ya, Mrs. Malfoy, but I'm afraid that we have detained your son again."

She nodded, setting her cup on its saucer. "What is it this time?"

"Stealin' potion ingredients from The Apothecary."

Potion ingredients. Surely not for a contraceptive concoction. Draco would know better than that. "Very well, I will arrive shortly. Thank you."

She summoned a mirror at once and began fixing her white-blonde hair. Her lips thinned at her reflection, eyes narrowed and sharp as nails. The goblins must surely sense her approach by now, so she must look nothing less than elegant and proud.

The honor of the Malfoy family was at stake.

"Crocker?" She called to their new house elf. "Fetch me my cloak."

A stumpy, brown elf with drooping ears, knobby nose, and blue eyes set on permanent terror came galumphing into the room, a charmed stool floating behind him, followed by a velvet cloak of the deepest black, its insides offset by a rich violet color. He coaxed the stool down then climbed it, carefully helping her into the vestments. "Young master is in trouble, Mistress!"

"Thank you for that astute assessment, Crocker." She turned around, not caring that the elf nearly fell off the stool from the power of her intimidating stare. "I leave you in charge of house duties until further notice."

"Yes, Mistress!" he squeaked, spindly fingers fumbling with the tie until another threatening glare forced him to quickly finish the job.

She sniffed, as if noting something rotten in the air, then took a step back and closed her eyes. There was a pinprick sort of pain that came with apparating, her body being torn into asymmetrical halves. Yet, it wasn't the least bit bothersome and, in an instant, she felt whole again, as though her two separate halves traveled 'round the world and found each other, joining into the perfect union of one body. In the midst of the newly surrounding hustle and bustle, she opened her eyes and glanced upward.

Gringotts Wizarding Bank.

Through those doors and in a hidden chamber, Draco would be waiting for her, as he had been on several occasions before. Being well acquainted with the goblins of Gringotts, the Malfoys saw to it that any and all family wrongdoings were ultimately concealed behind its doors and away from the prying eyes and ears of everyone else. Just as well, really, since the Daily Prophet would soil themselves silly at the news of another Malfoy in trouble with the law.

"Lovely day, Narcissa?"

She recognized that voice, unfortunately. "Isn't it always, Finella dear?"

"Of course." Her puglike features were a mirror of her daughter's, the tiny nose set on her face wrinkling in discord. "Draco was caught as well, I assume."

"You assumed correctly." She stepped toward the entrance and opened the heavy door, waving a gracious hand. "Please, after you."

They walked in tandem through the center hall, making no eye contact with the many goblins on either side of them. When they finally reached the table of the head caretaker, they had simply been waved toward a hallway opening on the right side. It felt so old hat by then that they did little more than nod in return before going on their way.

"I tell you, when I get my hands on that wicked girl...no more! What about you, Narcissa, what do you plan on with Draco?"

But she gave her no reply. Her mind was still wrapping itself around the fact that this was her fifth trip to Gringotts in less than a month. Her Draco wasn't a bad boy, he couldn't have been. Yet she found herself coming to that conclusion again and again.

And she did not know what to do.

Further into the cloistered off corridor, they came upon a T-section and took another right. At its end, there was a simple, bleach white door marked 'Employee Staff Only'. With a sigh, she knocked.

It opened by itself to reveal a room of all-over white, so much that one could not tell where any object began or ended. Draco and Pansy were seated on what she had concluded to be an overstuffed loveseat, with the way they sank down into whatever cushioning was beneath them. Pansy's cheeks went pink with embarrassment and immediately she ran to her mother with tear-filled eyes. Draco, on the other hand, remained on the near invisible seating, staring off into a void. He did not appear ashamed or remorseful or even angry, as he had been during previous visits.

He was afraid.

Yet, she remained as stern and poised as ever, unwavering in her disposition, silent in her analysis.

The tow-headed creature before her was not her son. He was no longer the angel she tucked in at night with his bedtime story and his stuffed dragon. No longer the joyful child who screamed in delight when he first rode on his father's old broomstick. He was a man - the spitting image of Lucius, right down to the rebellious streak and experimental nature. As a man, he should have been responsible for his own actions, yet here she was, cleaning up after him. This was growing so very tiresome, but he was her boy, born of her blood. That entitled him to her concern.

However, it did not entitle him to strip her of her dignity.

"How good of you to come, Mrs. Malfoy."

She turned to the direction of the voice, which emanated from an empty corner. Eyes like the pointed end of a knife, her gaze remained upon the corner until a goblin, fairly large by goblin standards, revealed itself from within a swooping invisibility cloak. It set the cloak aside and trundled toward her, keeping an eye on the young Malfoy until they and the Parkinsons were blocking the only entrance to the room. "The proprietor of the Apothecary was wantin' to press charges, but I eased him into a deal that'll work out in your favor, I feel."

"Tell him that I am willing to pay any and all damages done and we will never bother him again. Any questions he wishes to ask me may be delivered by owl." In a move that left everyone blindsided, she smiled. It wasn't false, nor was it filled with hidden rage - it was peaceful and understanding. "We have to get going now, I'm afraid. Dinner will be waiting for us."

The goblin blinked its beady eyes, showing as much surprise as a goblin could. "I beg your pardon? These are very serious charges that he--"

"I know, but we must be off."

"Really, Narcissa, aren't you going to discipline him?" Mrs. Parkinson stood agape, Pansy no longer shedding her crocodile tears and in fact quailing under her mother's heavy palm on her shoulder. "You remember what you told him last time, don't you?"

She nearly laughed at the look of terror on Draco's face at the mention of her memorable words. "Of course I do, but no need to worry about that now." Her smile remained, giving her a youthful appearance under the stark white light. "Boys will be boys, after all."

"Mother?" Draco was now approaching her warily, hands tugging at the bottom of his school sweater. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, Draco." She pressed a gentle hand to the spot between Draco's shoulders and goaded him forward. "Come along now, we must get you home." She bowed toward the goblin and the Parkinsons. "Terribly sorry to have kept you, thank you for watching him. Good day to you, Finella, Pansy."

She concentrated on keeping a brisk pace down the familiar corridor, mind working diligently. "I'm afraid since I've apparated here, you'll have to travel by Floo powder again."

"Mother?" Draco did his best to keep up, as well as trying to catch her attention. "Are you sure you want to pay for those damages? I could do something to pay for them, work or--"

"Don't be ridiculous, dear, you know that your father would hate to see you associate with the lower class." At last, she came face to face with the bank's Floo spot - a fireplace carved from the stone that made the building - and eased him forward. "Go on, Draco, you've done this before."

Still seemingly baffled by his mother's behavior, Draco nevertheless stepped inside the fireplace, taking a bit of powder as he went. "Malfoy Mansion!"

He disappeared in a brilliant flash of emerald flame and she used the time to apparate herself back to the study in their home. Draco tumbled out of the fireplace in a ball of soot and golden hair and it reminded her of the first time he had traveled by Floo powder. He'd wanted to try it again and again and again, thinking it better than flying.

How Draco had grown since then.

Not a child...but a man. A selfish, dirty, insensitive young man. Drinking and spending and reading up on things of an adult nature. He was not perfect; not anymore. So much so that she barely recognized him when he clambered to his feet.

She hated to admit to herself that Lucius would have handled things differently, because she tried so very hard to keep everything under control in his absence. Unfortunately, she found that much more difficult than previously thought, and there was really only so much she could do. Since her love's disgraceful arrest, the Malfoy family did not carry as much weight as it once did, and Draco's activities certainly did not help to restore it. She was never relied on to keep the family together, but now that she had become the glue, she found her cool temperament cracking little by little.

"Mum?" His gaze had turned from confusion to worry, perfectly arranged hair now tousled and framing his face. "Aren't you going to say anything?"

She wanted to say so many things, but she bit her tongue on them all. Shouting wasn't her style, even if her son was deserving of it.

"Mum?"

His voice was grating on her nerves and the words begged for escape.

"Mother, talk to me!"

Then, suddenly, they came out in an unforgiving stream.

"What would you like me to say, Draco? Would you like me to tell you that I am disappointed in you, hmm? Or that I really, really thought you would listen to me this time? Perhaps you'd like to know that my trust in you has been completely erased and you will have to start gaining it back. All of it." The words made her feel sick to her stomach, Draco's dismayed expression not helping one bit. "Really, Draco, what is the -matter- with you? I've had Pansy's mother warning me about you, I've received owls from Hogwarts telling me that you've practiced outside magic--" She shook her head, trying to remain composed, but found that she could no longer hold back. "Young man, I can -not- be your mother -and- your father! I cannot run this house, steer off the loathsome reporters wanting an in-depth account on how my family is falling apart, and straighten out the messes you get yourself into! It is simply too much to ask of anybody!"

Without waiting for a reaction, she stormed out of the study and up the spiraling staircase that led to the second floor.

She did not want dinner right now. She did not want anything except for a little peace, perhaps, or some sherry. Or her Lucius.

She despised the feeling of co-dependence that suddenly engulfed her, but was not ashamed enough to crumble to her knees on the top step, hand over her nose and mouth as tears threatened to spill down her cheeks.

How she missed her Lucius. How she missed her happy family.

The sound of heavy, climbing footsteps forced her to lift her head and turn around, and she dared not feel sympathy for Draco, whose sneering amusement was replace with genuine concern. It was his fault he got into trouble, his fault he was nearly expelled, his fault that he was steadily throwing his life away.

Yet, she could never turn on him. Not when he was like this.

"Come here, Draco."

He obliged and helped her to her feet, gaze nowhere near her own. "For what it's worth, I don't enjoy upsetting you."

That was the closest to an apology that she would ever receive from him.

A reply brewed in her mind, one of pure bite and acid, but she ushered it away and merely patted her son's hair. "I know, dear."

He loved her, she knew that - even if he didn't make it known all the time.

She remembered being a selfish brat at his age and her mother swearing that she did every bad thing on purpose and that she didn't love her family. That was far from the truth. Oh, she was a bit of a hellraiser at times - what child wasn't? - but she didn't rebel because she didn't love them. She did it because she felt an overwhelming desire to forge her own path, become her own person and not the one her parents wished upon her. It may have led her into pulling many tricks, but it was never out of spite. Only out of assertiveness.

Draco's reasons for committing crimes may not have been the same as the ones she'd had, but they were certainly not because he hated his parents. No, even when he was in dire trouble for something she'd reprimanded him for earlier, he'd wander over to the bedroom and sit by her side, face like a wounded angel's as he lamented the temporary loss of the greatest man in his life. His actions were not born from hate. Only anger.

No one believed her anymore when she said he was a good boy, but he was. She knew it in her heart that he was.

"Do you still not know if Father will come back?"

"I'm afraid the trial is still pending a date." Visions of Azkaban danced in her head and she tried to shake them off. "We could visit him, of course, but I don't like the thought of you setting a foot in that place."

He nodded, understanding, his voice then taking on a softer tone than normal. "We're not well, are we?"

She sighed heavily. "Don't concern yourself with things like that, Draco. Just be a good boy for your father and me." She cradled his face between her palms. "Can you do that for us?"

His gaze was piercing into hers and she found that she could not read it. "I will try."

She supposed that only time would tell whether his word was dubious or not, but she believed him, regardless.

Yes, he was a man, responsible for his own actions, but he was still her son. That entitled him to her love, sympathetic and unconditional.

He may have done a lot of bad things, but he was still a good boy.

Really.

END