Diamonds

12. Shine So Bright

"Ask what, my little dragon?" She brushed his hair back from his forehead, fighting the urge to click her tongue in disapproval: he desperately needed a haircut. The boy pressed his skin against her hand, having missed the contact during his absence.

"Will you take Hermione to see her parents?"

Narcissa's hand froze mid-stroke. Part of her couldn't believe he'd ask her to interact with muggles. Another part, a larger part, believed it wholeheartedly. After all, she'd spent the better part of two years convincing him that muggles weren't actually inferior, were as good as they were, were their equals in every way except knowledge. Narcissa knew perfectly well that in another life, back when she was Narcissa Black and yet to earn the hand of Lucius Malfoy, she had wanted to be a teacher. She had been about to start studying methods of teaching at Salem University in southwest Scotland, the best magical university in the world, when Lucius had asked her father for permission to propose to her. She hadn't gone through with the course after that, but the interest still existed.

She was very good at brainwashing children with beliefs they never bothered to double check. Of course she had succeeded with Draco. "Do you want me to?"

"Yes. It's what she wants, and she hasn't seen them for months. I missed you, mum, but that's nothing like what she must have felt. At least I knew this was coming."

"So did she, Draco," Narcissa spoke slowly, carefully. She had never felt the need to select and use words that she was sure the child would understand. "She knew all about Hogwarts. If she read any of the books we had delivered to her, at least."

"You know she did. You still get the lists, don't you?"

"Yes," she sighed, sitting up at last. "Do you wish to meet Mister and Mrs Granger?"

"Doctors. Yes. I do want to meet them. Hermione talks about them like they're the best people in the world."

She pulled him close to her, hugging him to her chest as she stroked his hair tenderly, her long fingers running smoothly through his pristine platinum hair. Her little boy looked so much like Lucius had when she had first met him, eleven years old and sure he was some kind of perfect prince. She'd never heard her husband speak about her the same way Draco referred to the muggle-born witch in the library, but nothing could convince her that he didn't love her, not in the way she wanted. Narcissa had wanted forever and a heart, but all she'd gotten was a name and a list of sins.

"I'll send them an owl to find out when they're free."

"Thanks, mum!"

Draco practically skipped out of the room, while Narcissa looked on from the bed. She didn't know how her son had come to befriend the only son of Isadora Zabini, who had always loathed her, or how he'd gotten close to the Longbottom boy, who lived with his grandmother Augusta because Narcissa's oldest sister was a sociopath. Grimacing to herself, she reached for the writing set she kept beside her bed at all times. "Mitzy!"

The house-elf appeared beside the bed with a crack, blinking her wide blue eyes. "What can Mitzy do for Mistress?"

"I need a tray. And fetch an owl."

"Would Mistress like Erinye or Jelani or Medea?"

"Medea will manage, I think. It's only a letter."
✦

Four days later, Draco found himself in a position he remembered not liking at all. The difference was less people, certainly, and two people to turn to instead of just the one.

In a way, it was better like this- but in another way, it was worse. Less people meant less distraction. Less people meant they could focus on him. Maybe he loved attention, but that was when he was around people he knew. Purebloods and wealthy people he could deal with. Bratty children who thought the world was owed to them. That was familiar. That was something he could deal with.