How Are You, Really? (Drarry)

Chapter Fifty: The Manor

            Draco stood on the steps of Malfoy Manor and stared up at the imposing building. He felt ill - he'd been living in one of their other residences while he'd been awaiting trial. This place made him sick - all the things witnessed within its walls was enough to make anyone hesitate to enter, even after the screams were long gone.

Gritting his teeth, Draco knocked on the door. It instantly opened, a small house elf waiting on the other side to show him the way to the drawing-room as if he hadn't lived here all his life. He didn't say anything - the being was just doing what it was told. Draco hated owning house elf's, but he couldn't bring himself to dismiss them and crush their spirits. Hermione would disagree, and thinking of her brought a slight smile to his face.

The doors to the drawing-room were open, and Draco stopped on the threshold. "Mother."

Narcissa sat in an armchair, her back so straight it didn't even touch the back. "Draco. Have a seat," she gestured at the chair across from her.

Draco strolled over, trying not to betray his beating heart or sweaty palms. Something wasn't right in this house, and there was more to it than just the memories it harbored. He could almost hear Hermione's screams as she was tortured by his Aunt, and he had to suppress a shudder.

"Teeny, tea," Narcissa snapped at the elf who bobbed a curtsy and snapped out of existence only to return a moment later with a tea tray. She sat it on the end table and backed away to stand next to Narcissa, facing Draco.

As Narcissa prepared a cup for herself, Draco was caught off guard when Teeny stared at him, turned to the tea tray and then slid her finger across her throat. She did this several times before abruptly stopping.

Draco inclined his head. He understood.

"How would you like your tea, dear?" Narcissa asked her son.

"I don't want any, thank you."

Narcissa frowned. "You must have at least a cup."

"No, thank you. I will not."

Huffing, Narcissa set down her own cup. "Fine. Have it your way."

"Why am I here, Mother?" Draco asked, impatient with the pleasantries.

"Can't a mother have tea with her only -."

Draco cut her off. "Cut the crap, Mother. We both know I'm not here to catch up."

Scowling, Narcissa crossed her arms. "I see you're in a foul mood today. Fine. We need to talk about your marriage and about the business."

Draco stared at her. "Whatever you have planned for a wedding will not happen unless it's to Harry Potter."

Narcissa sniffed. "You will marry a pureblood woman, or so help me. You don't have to love her. I'll even allow you to keep the Potter boy as long as you two are discreet." She finished as if she was bestowing the ultimate gift upon Draco.

Draco stared at her in horror. "That would be unfair to both my wife and me. I would never love her. I love Harry. End of discussion. Next topic. What do you want to talk about the businesses for? I've got them handled."

Narcissa snorted. "We can put down the topic of marriage for now. But I can't believe you've been running the businesses so carelessly! Donating half of everything you make! To reconstruction operations! Anonymously! How dare you waste our gold in such a manner!"

Draco was silent for a moment before whispering, "I don't think I'm wasting anything, Mother. It's the least we can do. And besides, who would take money from us if they knew it was from me? No one, out of pride."

"They would! Use our name! Get us back into the food graces of our neighbors!"

"I will not," Draco said firmly. "It will continue to be anonymous, and it will continue to be at a rate of 50% of our income. In case you haven't realized, Mother, I'm the one in charge of our finances, not you."

"For now," she growled, her face twisted in a mask of rage.

"What does that mean?" Dracos stomach started to sink. His mother might as well have been carved from ice as she sat there, and frostily stared out at him.

"Things change Draco, just like people do. You should know of all people how one can slip away from everything they've been taught. It's just as easy to slip back."

Draco started laughing; he couldn't help it. "Mother, I will never be the same boy you want me to return to. I'm sorry you can't wrap your head around that."

"What happened to my lovely child?" she whimpered, her façade cracking.

"I grew up, Mother. And unfortunately, I'm not someone you want anything to do with, which is your loss. Now, I best be off if we have nothing else to talk about."

Draco rose and strode out the door. To his surprise, his mother rose after him and followed behind, mirroring his every step. She didn't say a word, just silently kept pace with him. When he got to the entry hall, she stopped several feet behind him.

"Are you here to see me off, Mother? I am capable of leaving all by myself."

She said nothing, only stared at him, her eyes bright.

Draco reached for the door, not realizing it wasn't opening before him as it should. He gripped the handle and pulled. Nothing happened. Frowning, he gave it another good yank—still nothing.

Draco turned to his mother and stopped at her gleeful expression. "What did you do, Mother?"

She shook her head, still smiling.

"Teeny!" Draco called.

The house-elf popped into existence at his feet, wringing her hands and staring at the floor. "Teeny, open the door for me, please."

Teeny bowed her head in misery. "I cannot Master Malfoy."

"Why not?" Panic was starting to rear its ugly head at the sight of his mother smiling even wider. "What did you do?"

It was Teeny that answered. "Mistress has put the blood wards up. No one may enter, no one may leave."