Torn

Year 6

Narcissa Malfoy stood in the entryway of Number 12 Grimmauld place, taking in her not-so-unfamiliar surroundings; the place itself was something of a relic from her childhood. Her reluctant niece gestured toward the door down the hall, which she, Narcissa, remembered leading to a kitchen, and then turned to retreat up the stairs.

"Dora, w... wait," Narcissa said.

Tonks turned back sharply and spoke with readily apparent venom. "I agreed to bring you here, I did not agree to invite you back into my family. Yet."

Narcissa took in a shaky breath, maintaining her proprietary to the best of her ability, her plastered on smile betraying a slight tremble. Before she could think of a reply, Tonks had disappeared up the stairs, and Narcissa set her gaze on the door, intent to be reunited with her son as quickly as possible.

~ | * | ~

Draco sat in the dingy kitchen of his new temporary home, his hand clasped tightly around Hermione's beneath the table. Everyone present had been made aware of their relationship by now, as they'd spent weeks recovering together in the hospital wing at Hogwarts. That was when Draco had learned about the existence of his ancestral home, because he'd overheard one of the Order members asking Potter if he would call the old house elf to see if ownership of the house had indeed passed to him.

After seeing Draco's efforts to fight beside the Order in the ministry, even against his own father, his Gryffindor classmates had accepted his presence in their lives more readily than he'd imagined possible. Hermione had been equally surprised, as well as relieved, that Draco's actions, and subsequent apologies and explanations for his behavior, had been largely accepted by her friends.

Largely, but not entirely. There was still a sense of suspicion that Draco imagined might never fully go away, or would take a significant amount of time to. He, however, was willing to wait if it meant that he could be with Hermione.

Just as that thought crossed his mind, the kitchen door opened and in walked his mother. He stood, releasing Hermione's hand in the process, and only realizing after the fact that she might interpret the action as an effort to hide their connection from his mother.

"Mother," he said, walking around the table to greet her. She'd been stationed at the Tonks's residence ever since his father had been sent to Azkaban and she'd rushed to the school to retrieve him so that they could flee the country together. Dumbledore had instead offered to keep her in hiding, ensuring her that she'd be safer under his protection. After Draco had agreed with Dumbledore's pronouncement, his mother had come around to the idea, and she'd gone to stay there, while Draco had been sent to The Burrow. Now, however, they could both be together at Number Twelve.

His mother embraced him tightly, planting multiple kisses on the top of his head, which made him suddenly aware of Potter and Weasley being in the room. He pulled back, not unkindly, and gave her a small smile.

"Alright children!" Mrs. Weasley said in a piercing voice from where she stood near the stove. "You know you won't be allowed to stay for the meeting, now run along upstairs."

At this, there was a cavalcade of disagreements flung her way from Harry, Ron, and Ginny, while Fred and George sat back smirking.

"That's right children," Fred said, "be off to your rooms now."

"And don't let us catch you on the extendables if you know what's good for you!" added George.

Draco looked at his mother, who wore a sad smile and said, "I'll come up to visit with you after it's done, now be a good boy and go."

He had so many things to ask her, and it seemed like it would be an eternity before he found out her side of things. It wasn't clear to him whether she was fully on board with being a turncoat, or was simply doing whatever needed to be done to stay with him.