Empty Spaces

Chapter 55

Draco had to admit it; the cold sunshine of late winter was a refreshing change from the stifling hospital rooms.

"Got to chat with your mother a little bit," Aberforth smiled.

"I'm sorry in advance for anything she might have said," Draco replied apologetically. Aberforth just laughed.

"Yeah, but kid, she's one of those high-bred society ladies. Of course she's going to talk a lot of nonsense. But she loves you, and she loves Potter just as much. Don't blame you for wanting to keep your distance, though, there's only so much of that high-and-mighty crap that I can handle myself. Can't imagine what it must have been like growing up with it. But her heart's in the right place."

"I know," Draco admitted. His relationship with Narcissa was complicated at best and an abomination at worst. But at the end of it all, she loved him. And he loved her. Is that enough? How can that be enough?

"Don't worry, I get it," Aberforth smiled down affectionately, "My brother and I, we would have moved the world for each other but we each needed our space. Too much pain passed between us, too much heartbreak. Sometimes, the best way to love somebody is from a distance."

Draco nodded, suddenly thinking of his father as he processed this realization. You'll always be my father. I am who I am because of you. And the best way for me to love you is from far away.

They returned to the hospital after lunch with Draco in considerably better spirits than before. Aberforth was everything Draco had been raised to look down upon, so why then was Naricssa smiling at them, getting up and thanking Aberforth for taking care of her son and gushing her praises...? Hermione was there now, too, sitting easily at Harry's side as Narcissa engaged in some new animated conversation. Draco looked between them all, wondering if the entire world had managed to implode in on itself– Narcissa Malfoy, arguably Britain's most elite and high-bred society lady, mingling happily with a blood-traiter, a Muggle-born, and an innkeeper!? What the hell???

"Draco, dear, please wipe that expression off your face, it's not at all becoming on you," Narcissa chided, "Come, try a mochi. Sachi made them, and be sure to thank her next time you see her, poor dear has been so busy working and she still made the time to make these for us. Look at the lovely colors, isn't this the most darling little thing you've ever seen?? Miss Granger, here, take another, there's no shame in having more, we're all family in this room. Mister Dumble– Oh, alright, Aberforth! Aberforth, please, try this! Oh, and Draco, dear, please do something about your face."

Not knowing what else to do, Draco made his way over to Hermione.

"When did you get here?" he whispered, trying to be subtle.

"Not long ago," she replied back, "Your mother is quite the character," she grinned.

"Sorry," Draco apologized quickly, "Was she being rude to you?"

"Draco, dear, it is extremely rude to whisper, even amongst family," Narcissa chided. Draco rolled his eyes.

"Well, it's been nice to see you all," Aberforth announced his departure, "Potter, glad to see you're looking better. Draco, take all the time you need. See you."

"Let me accompany you to the fireplaces," Narcissa offered, "I must be going on my way as well, I told Horatio I would be back before teatime..."

Draco didn't care if the look on his face was unbecoming of a gentleman; he stared as Narcissa went over to Aberforth's side, beginning some new conversation about who-knows-what.

"Was she nice to you?" he asked warily, looking between Harry and Hermione.

"She's always nice to me," Harry shrugged.