As what he had predicted, Rose continued to read the Daily Prophet despite having bought new books.
"Cla... Clair... Clairvoy..."
"Clairvoyant," Draco absentmindedly muttered.
"Clairvoyant," Rose echoed. She repeated the word thrice until she was satisfied, a huge grin on her face. "What does that mean?"
He took a sip from his mug, this time filled with hot cocoa, before replying, "It means someone who can foretell the future."
"You mean like a seer?" she asked.
A smirk grew on his face, impressed. "Yes, like a seer," Draco said, nodding his head.
"Is Trelawney a clairvoyant?" Rose asked, grinning once more as she pronounced the word properly. "Mama said she predicted about Uncle Harry and Moldy Voldy's fight."
Draco lifted an eyebrow in amusement. "Moldy Voldy?"
"Uncle Harry calls him that," she explained.
He snorted. 'Figures,' he thought. "And yes, to answer your question, Trelawney's a clairvoyant."
Rose made a noise at the back of her throat and skimmed through the newspaper once more. Draco had long finished reading his own edition and found himself observing the redhead this time. She was carefully skimming through the pages, her eyes glued intently on the articles. He scowled, noting an article or two about Skeeter and her awful gossip about another war hero or a Death Eater. He had been her favourite subject, especially during his Wizengamot trial, and had penned awful things about him.
"Mama," she whispered in a gasp, eyes widening on a small picture of the War Heroine with Harry Potter. He had read about the article, stating about Granger and Potter's adventure in China. The author stated how they were still tracking down Rodolphus Lestrange.
The child then frowned and looked at Draco. "She's still not coming back?" she feebly asked, trying her very best to hold her tears.
Draco sighed. "I don't think so," he said, shaking his head.
Rose softly sniffed, and the blond sighed once more. "She'll be back soon," he reassured immediately.
"I don't think so," she echoed, haphazardly wiping her tears away.
He had no answer to that, merely staring sadly at the child. Perhaps, it was a curse to be the daughter of two of the most renowned heroes in the Wizarding World. Rose Weasley would never live a normal life, he was sure of that. As a Malfoy, Draco had grown up under the scrutiny of the society and it had suffocated him. He could sympathize with the redhead.
"What are you going to do today?" he calmly asked, trying to distract her from her distress. "Will you have another tea party?"
She shook her head, her curls whipping against her wet cheeks. "Woody and SpongeBob are away," she explained, pertaining to her toys. Draco wondered who they were. "They will be sad if we have the tea party without them."
"Do you have any other plans?"
Rose pouted, silent for a while, before shaking her head.
"Do you like to go on a field trip?" he casually asked, neatly folding her newspaper and putting it aside.
Upon the mention of 'field trip', Rose perked up. "Field trip?" she asked, hoping shining through her eyes. "Where are we going?"
"My house," he explained. "I have someone to visit."
The child looked confused. "But this is your house," she pointed out.
Draco smirked. "Yes, yes, clever girl," he said. "I meant my childhood home."
Rose looked thoughtful for a while. "Okay," she finally replied.
"Okay," he repeated. "Now, go to your room and be ready in twenty minutes."
She obeyed and hopped down from her chair. As she walked away, Draco debated whether it was a good idea to bring Rose to the Malfoy Manor. The manor was not exactly child-friendly; as a child, he had been afraid of some of the suspicious artefacts scattered around his home. Also, it was impossibly huge and bringing an inquisitive child would be disastrous. He wouldn't be surprised if Rose wound wander away and get lost in one of the multiple rooms in the Manor.
He really had to visit his mother today, though. Healer Matthews already spoke of her condition, and she was still unwell. He had not seen his mother for almost a month now and with a new child to take care of, he simply could not find the right time to visit. Tippy gave him daily reports on Narcissa's condition, but he just had to see his mother.
He at first thought of leaving Rose in his flat while he went to the Malfoy Manor, but thought against it immediately. Tippy was away for an errand, and he did not trust the other House Elves to take care of the menace. Theo was also a candidate for her temporary babysitter, but did not consider him too long. Rose clearly disliked him and he doubted his best friend would be responsible enough to act like an adult in front of the child.
Hence, the only choice he had was to bring her to the Manor. He just hoped it wasn't a bad idea at all.
__________
"Now, be good and for Merlin's sake, don't wander about," he warned, lifting Rose into his arms.
The child sweetly smiled. "I'll be a good girl, Draco, I promise," she happily replied, hand over her heart.
He still looked at her suspiciously, before nodding his head in satisfaction. She seemed happier now, as opposed to her dejected mood this breakfast and Draco took this as a good sign. 'Or not,' he thought with a sneer. Since she was in a good mood, she was bound to wreak havoc in the Malfoy Manor.
Sighing, he side-along Apparated them both before he could change his mind.
Rose was a little green when they reappeared at the gates of Malfoy Manor. "You better not get sick all over me," he warned, slightly disgusted, as he placed her back onto her feet.
"I hate apparating," she bemoaned.
Draco looked across their vast lawn, or more fittingly a field really, and sighed. Bringing a non-Malfoy into the Manor meant he could not apparate directly inside. Changing the wards required a lot of spells and manipulation, and he thought it would be less taxing to just walk from the gates to the manor.
"Come on," he said, ushering her forward.
Rose's eyes were wide with wonder as she surveyed the huge field. He had seen the same expression on their numerous visitors, but there was something refreshing about seeing it on a child. Rose had marveled her mother's rose garden, which were now tended to by the house elves due to the Mistress Malfoy's current condition. Her eyes also sparkled as she looked at the ostentatious fountain at the middle of the field. Draco mentally noted to take her at night, if he could, at the fountain since fairies tended to flutter about.
His eyes widened, disbelieving that he thought of bringing the child into the manor in the future. He really was going all soft towards the child, it was ridiculous. Theo pointed out his parental instincts came naturally, too naturally, and had mocked him unceasingly ever since. Draco was still adamantly in denial of the said instincts.
He snapped off his train of thought as Rose squealed and ran after the albino peacocks scattered about. They were terribly magnificent and extravagant; he thought the animals were a fitting symbol for the Malfoy family's flamboyance and wealth.
"Rose," he sternly said. The child frowned, quickly petted one of the peacocks, before running back beside him.
"What are those?" she asked, eyes shining brightly in curiosity and delight.
"Peacocks."
"They're pretty," she dreamily said.
He remembered his simile and wryly smiled. "Sure," he thought. They could be real buggers when agitated, aggressively attacking those who had wronged them until they bled.
Just like the Malfoys.
They finally reached the front door and Draco was relieved. He cursed his ancestors for purchasing a vast land to build the manor. It was honestly a bother, and difficult to maintain. He wasn't surprised they had at least ten house-elves maintaining the Manor, and an extra five just tending to his mother's gardens and the lawn. Despite officially owning the Malfoy Manor, seeing that he was the legal Head of House, Draco was wary of living here for the rest of his life. The humble flat (well, as humble as a Malfoy's flat could get) he purchased was a comfort, and had steadily been his home during his adult years.
"Master Draco," the front doors opened, even before he knocked. The eldest house elf, Morty, greeted him with a deep bow. He then curiously looked at the redhead beside Draco. Rose beamed widely, waving her hand as greeting with utmost enthusiasm. Draco smirked at the dumbstruck look on the house elf, seemingly at loss of what to do.
"Where is Mother?" he asked as Morty ushered them inside.
"In the East Wing Gardens, Master Draco," he replied, grasping both Draco's trench coat and Rose's little sweater. "Perhaps some tea?"
Draco nodded.
"And for the Little Miss?"
Before Rose could reply, Draco said, "Pumpkin Juice will suffice."
Morty nodded his head and disappeared with a crack.
"I want hot cocoa with marshmallows on the top," she whined, grasping onto his right sleeve.
"You had one during breakfast," he said with a lighthearted glare. "Granger will kill me if she discovered I've been fueling you with sweets and junk food. Pumpkin juice is nice. I like Pumpkin juice."
She crossed her arms. "I don't," she said. "It tastes funny."
"Yes, well, you have to train yourself into drinking one because there will be plenty of them once you start going to Hogwarts," he said and started to walk towards the East Wing. "Besides, it's healthy for a growing girl like you."
Rose released an exaggerated sigh. "You sound like Mama," she pointed out.
Draco looked down at her in horror. "No, I don't!" he exclaimed, cheeks blushing. At the same time, he remembered Theo's teasing and the fact that his parental instincts had been kicking in ever since Rose came into his life. 'Damn it all,' he thought with an internal groan.
He was turning into a fucking softie.
He brushed that thought aside and urged Rose to walk faster.
They soon reached the East Wing Gardens, and Draco found Narcissa almost immediately. His mother was seated on one of her favourite chairs, a black shawl wrapped around her frail shoulders, while she gazed off into the distance. A small lump formed in his throat, hating the emptiness in his mother's glassy eyes. They used to have a fiery spark; one look from the Malfoy Matriarch commanded power and people obeyed whatever she said. Now, she was reduced to a weak, mute, and grieving woman who missed her husband too much.
The War had broken her mind and heart, as what Healer Matthews had said. Often, Narcissa did not even recognise him, and that was what he hated the most. His mother's healer said that when Lucius died, it was when her mind completely snapped. It had broken her heart too much too, reducing her to this poor state.
Despite his father's past misgivings, it was plain to see that his parents loved each other very much. Although not publicly affectionate, Draco had been a witness to their steadfast love even in the midst of war. He had hated his father during his sixth year, blaming him for his current condition. If Lucius had been successful in his mission in the Department of Mysteries, Draco suspected he would not have been a Death Eater at such a young age, with a task that was doomed to fail. Lord Voldemort merely favoured him when he was able to brilliantly fix the Vanishing Cabinets, only to betray him once more when Draco turned into an Order spy.
But then, despite his father's failures, Draco knew he could not entirely hate Lucius. His father did love his family; a purely evil person could never love another. Lucius was misguided, just like he was during his younger years, and he could not entirely blame him for that.
"Mother," Draco called. "I'm here."
Narcissa continued to look at the horizon, not showing any hints that she heard him.
"Draco," Rose said, tugging onto his robes. "What's wrong with her?"
He tried to swallow the lump away as he looked down at the redhead. Instead of answering her question, he said, "Stay here and don't go wandering about. I have some things to attend to. Morty will be here shortly and you can ask him to play with you or something. Tell him the Master Draco commands it."
Rose pouted, but nodded nonetheless. "Okay," she said. "I'll be a good girl."
Unwittingly, a small smile grew on his face. "I'll be back soon," he promised.
__________
He should have expected this. Still, he could not help but scowl and glare at the cowering house elf.
"F-forgive Morty, Master Draco," the house elf said, head bent low, the tips of his ears touching the ground. "But the Little Miss is - "
" - a menace, I know," the blond finished. He then rubbed the bridge of his nose and sighed.
"Would Master Draco like Morty to search for the Little Miss?" he asked, straightening himself up.
Draco thought about this offer for a while, before shaking his head. "Never mind," he said. He then pulled out a parchment from his pocket and gave it to the house elf. "Send this to Healer Matthews instead. I'll look for Rose myself."
"Yes, Master Draco," the house elf said, grasping the letter and leaving with a pop.
Once he was gone, Draco made sure that Narcissa was comfortable, before venturing around the Manor to search for the child. Throughout the journey, he cursed the Malfoy ancestors again for building such a vast house for a small family. Come to think of it, his family was made up of three members, but the Manor had enough rooms to house the whole Slytherin house. Perhaps, if the manor was smaller, then it would not be used as Voldemort's hideout, that bastard.
"Where the bloody hell are you?" he muttered under his breath, glaring at the curious eyes of the Malfoy family portraits. His feet were already protesting from all the walking he had done for the day and Draco wanted to rest. Maybe bringing Rose to visit his mother was not a good idea after all.
He thought of going to the Malfoy library, knowing that having Granger's blood in her, Rose would be drawn to the vast collection of books. But then, the library was at the far west side of the Manor; he doubted her tiny legs would bring her to that side.
"... said that I should be a good girl so that she will bring home lots and lots of toys!"
"Hmm, then you must listen to your mother, child."
Draco's eyes widened, recognizing the voice of Rose. What surprised him more, however, was hearing the voice of his own father. The blond broke into a brief jog, heart thudding wildly inside his ribcage. Rose's hair was a dead giveaway of her heritage and he was afraid of what his father would do, despite being a portrait and all.
"I am a good girl!" Rose protested as Draco finally arrived at the corridor where Lucius' portrait was. The child was sitting in front of the portrait while she talked with his father. "Ask Draco! Do you know him? You have the same hair."
"Oh Draco?" Lucius replied, eyeing the child with interest. "He is my son."
The redhead squealed. "I knew it!" she exclaimed, pointing a finger at Lucius. "Draco looks like you. But he's prettier. You're old."
The adult lifted an eyebrow, thoroughly amused. "Indeed, I am," he said.
Draco decided it was time to cut in. "I told you to stay put," Draco growled, announcing his presence.
Both of their eyes landed on the newcomer. Rose grew sheepish as she jumped onto her feet. "Morty is no fun," she interjected with a pout. "He won't play with me. He's not like Tippy."
He sighed and strode closer, lifting Rose up into his arms. "Still, you should have stayed put," he reprimanded. "If you still have not noticed, my house is vast. A child like you can be lost."
"No, I won't," Rose said, turning to look at Lucius with a large beam. "Lucius will help me. Right, Lucius?"
"Of course," his father asked.
Rose directed her beam at Draco. "See?" she said.
Draco nervously cleared his throat. "Fine," he quickly said, wanting to be away from his father's portrait as soon as possible. He could already imagine slurs flung his way, cursing him for bringing a half-blood, much less a Weasley spawn. He realized that Rose was actually a perfect target for Pureblood bigotry. "Let's go back now, shall we?"
He hesitantly looked at his father, who had been silent during the whole ordeal. "Father," he greeted, tipping his head in respect.
"A Weasley, I presume," Lucius smoothly said, as if he was talking about the weather and not a family of Blood-Traitors. Draco found himself holding his breath. "The color of her hair is a dead giveaway."
"Yes, Father."
"Whose?"
"Ronald Weasley."
Lucius quirked an eyebrow, clearly surprised. "Ah, the Dead Hero," he simply said. Draco merely nodded his head. "And who is the mother?"
This was the question he was dreading the most. Weasleys, although unacceptable, were still Purebloods. Mentioning Rose's mother would give Lucius a heart attack. Well, if portraits could even experience such.
"Hermione Granger."
Draco was determinedly refusing to meet his father's eyes. The silence that followed was uncomfortable and Draco waited with bated breath for Lucius' reply.
"Oh," he heard his father say. "Brilliant girl. Smart."
The son's eyes widened in disbelief, he heard neither contempt nor disgust in his father's voice. In fact, he could hardly believe it but he thought Lucius had complimented Hermione Granger, who was not only a mudblood but the mudblood.
"Brightest witch of her age," Draco replied, slowly looking back at Lucius' portrait. His father's expression was mild and tame, with no sneer nor glare seen on his face. He could not believe that he had not gone berserk over the fact that a half-blood, with mudblood and blood-traitor genes, had stepped foot in his ancestral home.
"Indeed, she was," Lucius affirmed. "No wonder..." He looked at Rose with amusement and... fondness? "Clever girl," he continued, pertaining to the child in his arms.
Draco was speechless, staring dumbly at his father.
In response, Lucius rolled his eyes. "Yes, yes, she's the daughter of a blood-traitor and a muggle-born, big surprise," he said, smirking down at his dumbfounded son.
"You're not... you're not mad?" Draco asked, finally founding his voice.
"And why would I be?"
Draco snorted. "Oh, I don't know," he continued with dripping sarcasm. "Maybe because she's the daughter of I don't know a blood-traitor and a mudblood? You tell me, Father."
Lucius gazed at him intently for ages, deep in thought. "I did not raise you to speak despicable language in front of a child," he sternly said. All Draco did was scowl at his father.
His father's gaze then softened. "You still think ill of your Father, Draco, yes?" It wasn't a question. It was more of a statement, really, and Draco once again was short for words.
The portrait version of his Father sighed. "I am dead, Draco," he simply said. "I don't think I should conform to such ridiculous beliefs when my soul is somewhere frolicking in the afterlife."
Draco backpedalled. "What?"
Lucius sighed once more and looked at his son with amusement. "You should have known your father above all else, my son," he lightly reprimanded. "And you should remember that I like to... strategize." When Draco did not respond, he continued. "When the Dark Lord came into power, I believe that the most strategic thing to do is to become his follower. The power he promised..." A small, forlorn smile appeared on Lucius' face. "Such power blinds Malfoy men, Draco. We covet for eternal glory and fame. It is such a shame that a boy had been Voldemort's downfall." His smile then turned into a frown, his high cheekbones colouring slightly. "I believe I had... miscalculated and caused misfortune to the House of Malfoy instead."
He could not believe anything that was spewing from his father's mouth. Draco never had this kind of talk with Lucius when he was alive; heck, he never really talked with Lucius at all. His father was busy with the Malfoy business and the Voldemort business to really be a father to him. For Lucius to admit such things... he was surprised. And to think that Lucius never admitted he was wrong when he was still alive.
"Draco, I'm hungry," Rose suddenly said, breaking the tensed silence that befell the corridor.
Both of the Malfoy men looked down at the pouting girl, oblivious of the topic of their conversation.
"Are you done talking to your father?" she asked, smiling at Lucius' portrait.
Draco locked gazes with Lucius and felt a strange feeling in his heart. Ever since Lucius' death, he had steered clear from this corridor, in fear of encountering his father's portrait. He had so many things to ask... to say. He wanted to tell Lucius he blamed him for everything he had done. For ruining his life. He wanted to tell Lucius that Narcissa missed him every single day, that her heart could not handle that he was gone. He wanted to tell Lucius a lot of things, and he could not believe he never had the courage to talk to him for seven years.
"Yes," Draco finally said. He looked back at Lucius' portrait and started, "I... err... we must leave, Father."
A weird expression clouded Lucius' face as he stared at his son. "Of course," he then replied, with a stiff nod.
"Goodbye, Lucius!" Rose happily chirped. "It was nice meeting you."
Draco awkwardly nodded his head in goodbye, before turning around to stride away.
"Draco."
The blond stopped dead in his tracks. He then turned around and questioningly looked at his father.
"Will you come visit?" Lucius asked apprehension on his face. "It is terribly lonely in my portrait."
That weird feeling appeared in his heart once more. "I..." He swallowed a lump in his throat and shakily smiled. "Of course, Father."
The older Malfoy beamed so wide, Draco could not help but stare. He had never seen such an expression on his father before.
"Can I come visit to?" Rose piped in.
Lucius smiled fondly at the redhead. "Of course," he replied. "You can tell me all about your toys."
"I can bring Sir Ginger too, so you can meet him!" she claimed excitedly. "Can I bring him, Draco? Please please please?"
"Yes, yes, you menace," Draco said, lightly smiling. "But for now, I think I need to feed you so you can stop pestering me."
Rose grinned, and then wildly waved her hand goodbye at Lucius once more. "Goodbye, Lucius. It was nice meeting you!"
"Likewise, Rose," he said with a soft smile.
__________
He walked back to the East Wing Gardens in a daze, still in disbelief that he just had that weird exchange with his father. Lucius was truly a man of mysteries, which was one thing he had admired ever since he was young.
"Your father is nice," Rose commented, jumping down from his arms. She ventured closer to the platter of snacks, munching on a succulent treacle tart, and completely oblivious on the weird face he pulled due to her comment. "I like this field trip, Draco. Let's do this again."
Draco mused he needed some time to digest his conversation with his father before stepping foot in the Manor once more. He suspected that would take a long time, however.
He sighed and wordlessly strolled towards Narcissa, who was exactly where she was when he last saw her. The only indication that his mother was in fact alive were her soft, deep breaths.
"Mother," he fondly said, placing a comforting hand on top of her wiry hair. Once upon a time, Narcissa Malfoy's hair had been the object of admiration from all ladies in the Wizarding community. As a Black, she was quite unique, since she was the only one who had blond hair. Draco remembered them as silky and lovely, nostalgic remembrance of his younger days when he would play with his mother's hair while she sneaked into his room to read him his favourite bedtime story. While his relationship with his father was cold and monotonous, Draco adored his mother too much. This was why his heart had ached with Narcissa's illness, desperately spending a lot of money to find a cure.
"There isn't a cure for a broken mind and heart," Healer Matthews told him once. Draco had given him all the love he could, but he could not match his father, and that frustrated him.
"Master Draco."
His eyes landed on Morty. "What is it?" he inquired.
"Healer Matthews arrived, Master Draco," the house elf said. "He wishes to speak with you."
Draco nodded his head. "Take care of mother while I am gone," he ordered. His gaze shifted on Rose, who was happily munching on a muffin now. "And please, for Merlin's sake, look after Rose. You and I both know this Manor is not for wandering children."
Morty nervously looked at the child, but nodded nonetheless.
With one last look at his still silent mother, Draco strode out of the gardens and hoped that Healer Matthews' arrival would bring good news.
__________
Healer Matthews's presence brought bad news.
"Lady Malfoy needs more careful attention," he said. With her immunocompromised state, she was more susceptible to infections. Wizards and witches were known for their strong immune systems; unlike Muggles, they were practically impenetrable from the flu and common colds. But with Narcissa's state, they should be extra careful. Apparently, once inflicted with a simple sickness such as the flu, magical beings had a stronger reaction against them than a normal Muggle.
"If worse comes to worst, I believe it is best if she is confined in St. Mungo's."
He had dreaded the healer's parting words, knowing that if his mother was lucid enough, she would have made a fuss for being imprisoned in the hospital. Narcissa adored the Manor, and had spoken to him before how she wished to die in this place than anywhere else. If she was truly deteriorating, Draco did not want to deprive her from one of her wishes.
Such thoughts had plagued him until he arrived back in the East Wing Gardens. He was awfully tired and his body ached for some rest. He just needed to get Rose so he could apparate them both back home.
"... look like one of my toys, Barbie."
Draco's eyes widened, stunned with the picture before his eyes. Rose was sitting on Narcissa's lap, telling her stories about her toys and her books. Again, Rose had surprised him by actually bringing a smile on his mother's face. It was faint, but it was there. She wasn't looking at a distance, too, and was instead looking down at Rose. Her empty eyes were filled with warmth, and Draco was at a loss.
"Wait here," Rose happily said, jumping down from her lap. She then ran towards one of the rose bushes and carefully plucked a long one. Draco held his breath, waiting for his mother's outburst. Narcissa loved her rose bushes the most. One time, she caught five-year-old Draco thrashing around her beloved bushes and had gone berserk.
But then, when Rose returned with the flower and climbed up on his mother's lap once more, Narcissa did not say anything.
"Here," the child then said, presenting the rose to the silent lady. "You're pretty. So don't be sad anymore."
Draco felt a strange pang as Narcissa prettily smiled and accepted the gift. His eyes felt strangely warm, but he tried his best to ignore them as he strode forward.
Rose looked up and brightly smiled. "Draco!" she exclaimed, jumping down from Narcissa's lap to greet him.
He wordlessly lifted her into his arms and merely stared at her. He had tried his very best to gauge at least some semblance of a smile from his mother, but had failed miserably for years. But then, this... this child had just arrived today, but she was able to bring out a small smile from his mother.
Draco oddly felt choked up, and all he do was shakily smile at Rose.
"You okay, Draco?" she asked, pouting at the weird look on his face.
"Yeah, yeah," he said, chuckling in disbelief. "Gods." He fondly patted Rose's bushy hair, earning him a pretty smile from the child "We should get home. It's been a long day."
"Can we come back here?" she hopefully asked. "I really liked Lucius and Cissa, even if she doesn't talk much."
Draco did not hesitate in nodding. Perhaps, Rose's presence in this bleak Manor would be good for his mother's health.
He then strode towards Narcissa. "Goodbye, Mother," he whispered. "We must go now."
"Goodbye!" Rose happily exclaimed with an enthusiastic wave of her hand.
Before he could step away, he stood frozen in front when Narcissa finally looked at him straight in the eyes for the first time in years. "Draco," she whispered, voice cracking from misuse. His eyes widened and looked at her quickly, surprised that she called him by his name. "Good bye." The corner of her eyes crinkled with a small smile, and Draco swore his eyes felt hot once more.
Draco bent down to drop a kiss on her forehead.
Narcissa smiled, and then looked at the horizon again, lost in thought.
As they returned to his flat, Rose happily thanked him for their field trip and ran towards her room to play with her toys. Draco, on the other hand, walked in a daze to his study, and thought that this day was too bizarre. And it was all thanks to five-year-old Rose Weasley.