Empty Spaces

Chapter 27

"And your actions have been worrying indeed, my son," Lucius continued, coming closer still. "One would think that I have raised an... ungrateful... child."

Draco's pulse quickened, his breathing grew shallow, but he stood his ground as Lucius began to circle him, a predator closing in on its prey.

"My son... I do not blame you for this shortcoming. I blame myself. For it appears I have failed to teach you just how lucky you are. How would you know, my sheltered son, that the Malfoy name alone places you far ahead of the common lowlives who inhabit this terrible world? Your ancestors worked hard to earn the respect that comes with the family name you now wear with such carelessness. But you know naught of their struggles to get you to where you are today. This was my oversight, my dear son, and for that, I apologize."

Maintaining composure was getting harder as Lucius' venomous words penetrated through Draco's defenses and crept into his heart. Lucius continued, merciless:

"You have been given everything you need to rise above and live a life of greatness. Yes, even now, my son, you may think you are spending 'your own' money, but who was it who gave it to you in the first place?? Ah, yes, you see? Your mother and I gave you everything, your very life even. Your ancestors gave you your name and your fortune. Such things come at a cost, you must know. For nothing is given freely in this world; those who take must always give back in the end... Your actions of late... One might think that you are forsaking us, taking your life and all that's in it for granted, abandoning your family... What a shame, my son, what a shame..." Lucius shook his head, so close now that he took his long finger and stroked Draco's cheek, staring into his son's eyes, breaking him.

"You wouldn't do such a thing to the ones who gave you your very life, now, would you?" Lucius breathed icily. Draco couldn't respond.

"Good," Lucius dropped his hand and stepped back. "I thought so. Shall we go see your mother, then?"

And Draco let himself be escorted up the grand staircase, through the hall and into the master suite where a figure lay outstretched on the bed, illuminated by a single candle on the table.

Shit. So Lucius was telling the truth.

Draco crossed the room, unsure whether she was sleeping or not, and knelt at her bedside, taking her cold hand in his. His mother turned at the touch, her face thin, a shadow of the formidable society lady she'd been during Draco's youth.

"Draco, dear, is that you?" Narcissa's voice was barely audible.

"Yes, it's me, I'm here," Draco replied softly, crushed by the weight of what he'd done to her– or rather, what he hadn't done for her. Lucius was right. He hadn't been there for her, not once, not during the monotonous summer months and then he escaped to find his own freedom but in the process, he'd completely abandoned his own mother. I'm here now. Does that count for anything? Can that count for anything?

"You've come home to me..." Narcissa whispered. "I've been waiting for you, dear..."

"Did you get my letter?" Draco asked.

"I did, dear... I meant to write back, but I... lost track of time..." Narcissa said, turning her head away. "I'm so sorry..."

"What's going on, what's wrong?" Draco asked in spite of himself. He knew what was wrong. He'd left his mother to face her demons alone. Lucius was right...

But she said nothing more, she simply hid her face and hid her pain, gone to the place where nothing could reach her and nothing could hurt her. Draco knew this place well... he had spent years there...

"Come Draco," Lucius stood in the doorway, his arm outstretched, "Let your mother rest. These long months have been so trying for her..."

Unable to do anything else, Draco obeyed. His brain was growing foggy with guilt and grief, and it was getting harder to think clearly or see beyond the immediate feelings of hopelessness and despair. It was as if the Manor sucked the very life out of him, a dementor made of glistening marble and cold stone floors.