❝ Why can't we be more than friends, Draco?
-Why can't we be more than friends? Merlin Astoria, figure it out. I am fucking social pariah. Your friends, your family, your fucking parents who adore you, would never approve. ❞
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N A R C I S S A S T I R R E D another cube of sugar into her freshly brewed tea, watching the clear evening through the back door. The teapot was steaming excitedly in anticipation of its next pour. Narcissa had set up another tea cup for her son, but he had yet to return, and thus the teapot would steam in vain.
It was late.
She had welcomed the New Year on her own, with Draco at the Greengrass manor and her own sister, Andromeda, celebrating with the heroic blood-traitors and mudbloods alike. While she wished Meda didn't hang around such people, she understood she'd never be able to completely repair the harm she had once caused her older sister.
Still, she wished she wasn't alone. She wished Lucius was here beside her waiting for Draco. She could practically hear the tone of her husband, the questions he'd discuss with Narcissa to be approved so they could question Draco when returned from the party.
Merlin, she wished her husband were home.
Narcissa took a sip of her tea, ignoring how it scalded the surface of her tongue as she waited another few, long minutes.
There was a faint pop and Draco appeared before his slightly aging mother, a clump of floating fruit clutched in his frostbitten hands.
Draco seemed far away as he shrugged his traveling cloak off his shoulders, letting the plums bob in the warm air of their kitchen.
"I brought you some Dirigible plums. Thought you might be able to make a pie from them."
Narcissa warily watched her son as he fell into one of the wooden chairs and watched blankly as the excited tea pot poured tea into the empty mug.
"Thought you would've been asleep by the time I got home," Draco lifted his cup to his lips and drank deeply, reveling in the pain that sprouted on his tongue from the boiled beverage.
Narcissa shifted in her seat. "I wanted to make sure you got home safe. I wasn't sure how drunk you might've gotten and if you'd even be able to apparate."
Draco laughed bitterly. "I'm not even close to being drunk," his eyes wandered the table and his eyebrow quirked as a bottle of fire-whisky sat precariously close to his mother's cup. He reached over and poured some into his cup.
"So I'm guessing you didn't have that good of a time then?"
Draco shrugged and took another sip of his tea, which tasted nasty with the whisky poured in it, but unlocked the anxious twists of his stomach.
