The Shattered Dragon

Chapter 21: The Fool

TW: rape.

Draco stood outside the front door of the Manor trying to slow his racing heart. Of course his mother had begged him to visit before, had sent out owl after owl flooding him with guilt, telling him that she was heartbroken, lost without him. And every time he'd written back, telling her that he loved her, telling her that he couldn't go back to the Manor, it wasn't his home, not anymore.

Maybe it was his own heartbreak that made him go to her now, maybe it was Hermione's influence, urging him to be a better man, to find ways to change. Or maybe it was simply the clipped and urgent tone of the latest scroll he received. It was nothing like his mother's usual flowery, dramatic prose; wordy and witty as if writing for an audience of thousands. No, this one was short...to the point, and its brevity was upsetting.

Draco,

I need to see you. Tonight. Your father has told me everything.

He isn't here. We can talk.

Please. 9 PM

Mum

She almost never signed her notes Mum anymore, like she used to when he was in school. It was a detail that caught in his throat.

He brought her a bouquet of hellebores and orchids and a bottle of wine as if he were attending a party, a guest making an impression on a new hostess and not the woman who had comforted him with hugs and chocolate when Pansy Parkinson had rejected his very serious proposal of marriage first year.

He wanted to see her. He'd wanted to see her and confide in her, hold her for years, but something had changed between them after he took the mark. She'd seen a part of him die that day, seen him choose a path she'd prayed he'd never take, and since then it had all been different between them.

Opening the front door brought back a flood of memories both good and bad. The Manor was his home and his hell. It was where he'd had his first kiss and seen his first murder. It was where he'd learned to fly and learned to administer torture. Over the years Narcissa had tried to brighten the rooms, change them, open the windows and let in fresh air, but they still held the stench of Voldemort in every corner. On the day he'd left home he swore to them both that he'd never sleep in their house of horrors ever again. That was nearly eight years ago and he'd stayed true to his word.

"Mother?"

Only a few sconces were lit as he walked further down the front corridor. Lighting a few more lamps with his wand brought two charcoal grey Chartreux cats from the shadows. His mother had adopted them as kittens – Rufus and Julian. They rubbed against Draco's legs and purred as they wove themselves between his ankles.

"Where's mum?" he asked, setting down his packages. Then, calling out down the corridor, "Mother?"

He figured she would have been waiting at the front gates for his arrival and after another minute of silence he wondered if something was wrong. But as he turned towards the stairs to the East Wing, he heard a crack of apparition and he was engulfed in his mother's arms.

"Draco! Oh thank the Gods. Oh my Draco! You're home!"

She smelled the same, the sweet, welcoming scent of honeysuckle and rose, and a wave of nostalgia nearly brought tears to his eyes as she fussed over him, all kisses and hugs fixing his hair, admonishing him for the three days he'd gone without shaving. Every elf in the house gathered round, looking at him in awe. The prodigal son come home.

"Mum. Mum...I...I can't...let go!" he said, laughing. "Listen to me for a minute. I can't stay long. I just know... I know you needed to see me. That you wanted to talk."