𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐄

Chapter 5

Narcissa greeted them at Platform 9 ¾ as the train pulled in. Draco ran to embrace his mother, and she looked relieved to have him in her care. Harry wondered if she'd been fighting with Lucius about custody or expectations for him.

"Oh, my darling, you haven't been this ecstatic to see me since you were young," she laughed, petting Draco's hair.

"I missed you, mum. And I was worried. Your letters were vague."

"Sorry to worry you. Everything is fine. Now, aren't you going to introduce me to your new friends?"

Pulling out of his mother's grasp, Draco blushed. "Er, of course. Mum, this is Ron and Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger, and Harry Potter; blokes, this is my Mum."

"How do you do? Please, call me Cissa." They all murmured polite greetings, then stacked their trunks on a trolley. It rolled along in front of her, pushed by magic, obviously, for she didn't touch it at all, and they headed out to a shiny new black Rolls-Royce Seraph. Like most cars owned by a wizarding family, the cabin had been "improved" for more comfortable accommodation. Harry was not at all surprised when he climbed into the car and ended up in a finely appointed drawing room. He was, however, surprised to learn that a House Elf was going to do the driving.

They all talked for awhile, getting to know Mrs. Malfoy better, and telling her about their rather hectic term. She was particularly interested in learning about how Draco and Harry came together. At first Harry found it strange that she didn't already know, but then he supposed that Draco hadn't wanted any messages accidentally relayed to his father.

She played the piano for them for awhile, but Draco petulantly refused to sing with her. Hermione, however, took that opportunity to try teaching everyone a few Muggle songs that people liked to sing on road trips. Obviously she hadn't yet given up on her self-appointed quest.

Following a few unenthusiastic renditions of Tiny Dancer, Stairway to Heaven, and Hey Jude, they broke for afternoon tea. It wasn't much longer until they reached Mrs. Malfoy's country cottage. It had been in her mother's family for generations, and Harry was mesmerized by a few of the family portraits hanging on the walls. There was a young Sirius, carefree, happy, alive.

"It'll be a little cramped, I'm afraid," Narcissa said, as she led them through the entrance hall. That was the most ridiculous understatement Harry had ever heard.

~

Harry laid across the bed, resting his head on his fist as he watched Draco reading a letter from his father. He had resolved to get to the bottom of the Veelan Desire question that night when the angry-looking eagle owl swept into the room and pecked irritably at Draco's arm.

"What's it say?" he asked as Draco folded the parchment and shoved it in his robe pocket.

"My mother has left my father," he said. "She filed for divorce."

"I didn't think wizards got divorced."

"We don't – no purebloods do, at least. It has happened in the past, with Muggleborn families, but never…. All this time I worried that my father would be the one to disgrace my mother."

"I'm not certain what I should say. I'm sorry that everything you've ever loved is falling apart. I wish that there is something I can do."

"You do enough," Draco said, clambering onto the bed and lying beside him. Harry pulled him closer, wrapping an arm around his waist. Draco cuddled into him, taking comfort in the touch. "Let's not talk about my parents right now."

"Okay," Harry said. "We'll talk about something else. Or we don't have to talk at all. I could just hold you for awhile. Whatever you want."

"Thank you. But I think we need to talk about something. I've been meaning to tell you, you see, but I just didn't know how. Then I thought, if you would spend the holidays with me, that we could work through it that way." Blushes painted his cheeks the most adorable pink. Harry gave him a kiss on a dimple, feeling the warmth spreading beneath his lips. "What do you feel for me?"