From Wiltshire, With Love

Chapter 81

"Can you heal this?" Draco grunted in pain, eyeing his mother skeptically as she widened the cut of his trouser leg, revealing the entirety of the blackened wound. It burned even more when exposed to air, and he whimpered.

"Not entirely," she pursed her lips in concentration and cast charms on his thigh where it was the worst. "But I can make it less painful."

He groaned in relief as she set a numbing charm over the open gash on his thigh where a black viscous liquid had congealed. Glancing up at him, his mother ran her hand through his hair and cupped his jaw tenderly.

"Better?"

He nodded, and she leaned in to kiss his forehead.

"So that was the trollop?" His father raised an eyebrow and looked down at them in disdain. "That Mudblood you tortured at the Manor?"

Draco glared back. "Obviously it wasn't a very effective Cruciatus."

"So that's the way of things then?" Lucius' sneer was on full display in the dim wand light. "You'll end centuries of ancestral blood purity on a whim?"

The gentle hand his mother placed on his chest stilled the retort on his tongue.

"That trollop just saved your son's life," Narcissa explained patiently. "We're on the winning side and hidden safely while she's out there fighting. I don't doubt she'd pass through the Veil and back for him. Draco could do much worse."

"You can't be serious," his father's face creased in anger. "They'll have Squibs, Cissy. Diseased and wretched."

Draco clenched his fists, struggling to follow his mother's lead and not respond to his father's baiting. How could he think about grandchildren at a time like this? Let alone the state of them? But as Hermione explained, that was the whole point of pure-blood supremacy.

Children. Inheritance.

"Would you prefer to be lying on your back on our ballroom floor?" she retorted. "Screaming while Nagini threatens to eat you? After these past two years, I'd consider myself lucky to have Squibs for grandch–"

"You don't mean that," his father cut her off in horror.

Draco was shocked his mother was so accepting of Hermione despite her bigotry. Or perhaps she saw the futility of trying to come in between them. He had been defying Voldemort for over a year. Defying his parents was nothing in comparison.

Regardless of her reasoning, his mother's jaw was set and defiant in the dim light.

"I do, Lucius. A witch of pure breeding would be preferable, but we can..." she drew in a deep breath, steadying herself. "There are good Healers. It will be a struggle but we can work through the difficulties. One thing at a time."

Lucius was incredulous. "You can't heal a diseased Squib."

"Squibs aren't a certainty," Narcissa countered, raising her voice. "Andromeda's little girl went to Hogwarts."

"Oh?" he sounded skeptical. "What house?"

His mother wouldn't know.

"Hufflepuff," Draco answered for her.

His father scoffed in derision. "I'd prefer a Squib."

"She became an Auror," Draco pressed.

That was an understatement.

"Yes, the Auror Department lowered its standards before it disbanded," his father waved his hand dismissively and turned to him in anger. "This is madness. She'll destroy our bloodline."