In Father's Good Grace, and Mother's Shame

The young blonde boy sat on the silk chaise in his family's sitting room. He heard his mother crying all the way in the next room, but he knew there was nothing he could do about it. Some small part of him still wanted to help her, but every time he'd tried, it had only made things worse. Father didn't like it when people meddled in his business. So he would sit here, out in plain site, in case his father came out after him. Hiding only made it worse. Father didn't like cowards.

"I don't like what you have become," he heard his mother scream. Her voice was filled unbridled agony "I don't like what you are teaching Draco!"

"I'm teaching him what he needs to know to survive!" his father roared. It was terrifying when his father got that violent thunder in his voice that made the walls shake. The air always chilled a degree or two, and he could feel the winds screaming through the deep caverns of his father's temper. The storm would hit when those winds finally reached the mouth and roared around the room like ten thousand malevolent spirits searching for soul to tear from a body.

"But the Dark Lord is dead. Give up the ghost Lucius," his mother wailed. He heard his father stalk across the room.

"Do you want to be around if that isn't true? Do you want to be standing there when he rises again, and calls in the debt of those who abandoned his service? He can't die Narcissa. He is eternal," his father hissed. Draco didn't have to be in the room, to know exactly what his father looked like at that moment. Cold gray eyes, squinted, flashing with rage. His face slightly flushed from yelling, the only thing that reminded one that he was not carved out of stone. Draco was never quite sure how his mother didn't just fall to pieces under that stare. It always made him want to cry, but of course ne never did so in front of him.

"But I miss what we were," his mother said quietly. "Back in school, how close we were. You were never a warm man Lucius, but I always knew you cared. Now, I feel nothing from you. Y- You won't even hold me at night anymore."

"I do what needs to be done. Yes, I do sacrifice my time with you and Draco. I fight to keep you and our son safe in this luxurious house. The ministry is tightening its laws, making it harder and harder for honest wizards and witches to protect their families. You're right. I'm not home much anymore, and I am cold towards you and Draco. But I do everything for this family! You see how dangerous it has become for us. Do you want Draco growing up and attending school with common filth and mudbloods?" His fathers voice was quieter now, but it was still laced with deadly poison. Softness that hid razor sharp fangs.

"Of course not," his mother replied tartly, her voice hoarse from screaming. "I want the best for him as well, but teaching him the Unforgivable Curses before he even starts his formal wizard training, Lucius not only is it illegal, but it's dangerous to boot! Goodness knows what he could do with that wand if he wasn't mindful."

"I teach him what he will need to know. Eventually, the Dark Lord WILL come back, and Draco will need to know such things." Even at his young age, Draco could hear the manipulative tone beneath his father's words. "Now, if you want Narcissa, I will postpone teaching them to him until he is thirteen, but not a day later. He's growing up quickly, and needs an early start."

"Thank you Lucius," his mother sounded relieved.

"Perhaps we can all have dinner out on the veranda tonight. No meetings, no interruption," Lucius said. He was very good at placating his wife. Draco heard his mother mutter pleasantly and then sat up straight as she walked out of his father's study. He tried to keep his face passive and unaware of their discussion. His mother walked over slowly to him, the silver folds of her dress sweeping the black marble floor. She knelt in front of him.

"I did it Draco. Three more years. I've bought us three more years."

"Your meddling annoys him mother, why do you provoke him so?" Draco asked, with a hint of his father's coldness. The tone made his mother chew on her lip, suddenly unsure of her welcome in the sitting room.

"Because I love you Draco," she said simply. Draco looked out the window at the vast gardens of the manor.

"Of course you do," Draco whispered with cool disdain. "I remind you of the way father used to be but I see nothing wrong with the way he is now. I want you to know that I think father is the greatest man alive. I hope that someday, when I am his age, I can be just as powerful and important as he is."

His mother's smile barely masked her defeat as she rose to her feet.

"With an attitude like that Draco, you'll become even more then your father."