Hand That Binds

11

Theo Nott hadn't been exaggerating about Draco's thinning hair. It made his son look older than he was, but it was also a look of a type of exhaustion that Lucius recognized. Lucius had looked similar before the Dark Lord was destroyed.

Wearing a fine suit in dark blue, Draco was thinner than Lucius, but slightly taller. The boy was gone, but the man that stood in the Foyer, unable to lift his eyes to his father's face, was like a stranger. Pip had managed to bring Lucius his dressing gown, and Lucius had slipped it on after Apparating to his room and then nearly ran down the stairs to the Foyer. He knew he looked unkempt, stubble on his cheeks and chin, his hair a mess of silvery blond tangles...it would be then his son would decide to return to Malfoy Manor.

Pip was holding Draco's left hand, looking at the golden wedding band on Draco's long fingers, crying. Lucius sighed, and then looked at the other figure in the Foyer.

...see me, you can't. You won't see me...bastard, where is the bitch...

Lucius swallowed thickly, knowing that if he drew his wand, everything would go pear shaped.

"Father."

Lucius pressed his lips.

"I know this is sudden, that I should have written, but..."

Draco's voice was deeper than he remembered. Everything about Draco was different. It had been over a decade, he admitted, and as Draco's silvery eyes scanned him, he knew what Draco was thinking. How could the boy be so unguarded?

In his son's estimation, Lucius looked much better than Draco could remember. The photos in The Prophet and Le Cri did not do his father justice. The beard, it had been suiting to his face and age. And the way he moved with Granger, it was as if he never knew Lucius Malfoy at all. Draco looked very little like him.

"You are home, and it is your home, Draco, always," Lucius whispered.

Millicent Bulstrode stood behind Draco, her dark hair up in some knot that Lucius knew Bulstrode would never wear. She had on a dress in the same shade as her dark eyes, and a heavy winter cloak with a silver clasp.

Draco exhaled as Pip's attention turned to the woman, but before Pip could speak, Lucius took a step forward, and Draco was amused at Lucius' state of undress.

"Pip, bring tea to the parlor. Mrs. Pickering, Pip can take your cloak."

Draco blinked at Lucius' address of the other woman and looked over his shoulder. The woman only nodded, and took her cloak off. Then Draco took off his own, and Pip moved away.

"Come, let us sit. Mrs. Pickering, you are always welcome."

Indicating to Pip might set off another series of events that would end in injury, Lucius knew. The woman was not guarding her thoughts.

...moves wrong way, I'll slice Draco's throat. Where is the little witch? This might not work if she isn't...

"The parlor?" Draco whispered, and Lucius schooled his face.

"Completely redone, son. Much of the places where the Dark Lord infested the house has been redone."

Draco paused in the door of the parlor after Lucius came in, flicking his wand at the Floo to fill the room with warmth. Lucius considered. The real Sir Bulstrode was probably in Vienna with Granger. He had a vague recollection that he knew that much. It was Polyjuice, most likely, but Granger had told him once, in passing, that Bulstrode was very cognizant of leaving traces of herself around. Something to do with their Second Year. Granger was the same, never leaving stray hairs anywhere. At least she was tidy.