Draco sighed heavily as he left Louisa’s home. It had been a fantastic day. She seemed to have really enjoyed Hermione’s gift of going to see the Puppet Show. Playing in the park had been wonderful, too. She got along very well with her owl, one of many presents Draco had given her that day. But her last request was what had him feeling down now.
He had promised her whatever she wanted for her birthday. And what had she wanted? To know about her family. He remembered how her face had scrunched up in concentration as she must have tried to think of the best way to ask her questions. She had been sitting next to him on the porch swing. Then she asked what he’d known must eventually be asked, “Daddy, do I have a mother?” Draco pulled his daughter closer, wording his answer very carefully.
“Louisa, you know you are not like other children. You have me. You do not have a mother that I know of. One day… you were mine- you were made from … me “ and then given to me. I don’t know how else to explain it you, sweetheart.” She had been quiet after that. She hadn’t argued or cried as he feared she might. She just seemed to be thinking. After some time she said, “It’s because I’m magic, isn’t it? Whenever things don’t make sense, I just think it’s because of the magic.” Draco smiled a bit.
“I think that’s as good an explanation as I could come up with, my love.”
But now, as Draco walked to a safe place to Apparate, his thoughts wandered to a more sinister explanation. He’d never known whose blood was used in the ritual of Louisa’s birth. Collecting it hadn’t been his responsibility, thankfully. He’d often wondered if the blood belonged to a woman who was no longer even living. Knowing Voldemort, his father, and the other Deatheaters, that’d be the most likely scenario. He supposed that whoever supplied the blood, though, was indeed Louisa’s mother.
He tried to think of brighter subjects. The circumstances of Louisa’s birth gave him some of the most frightening thoughts of his life. When he let himself think of the likely fate of her mother, he inevitably concluded that she must have been killed. But that wasn’t the worst of his thoughts, for when he thought about the mother, he thought about the horrific ritual. If I’m Louisa’s father, and the blood belongs to her mother, then what role did Voldemort play? he thought, shuddering in the cool summer evening breeze.
He stopped behind a rather large elm tree. Taking a deep breath, he tried to calm his mind. Apparating without mental clarity was downright risky. But showing up at Malfoy Manor with any outward vulnerabilities was even more dangerous!
Instantaneously, Draco was outside the gates of his family’s estate. He stood there for less than a few seconds before the great iron gates opened. Brusquely he nodded to the bushes on the right side of driveway where he knew a house elf would be hiding. With a quick stride, he walked up towards the mansion. As he approached the front of the house, another house elf was already opening the enormous wooden door.
He felt the oppressiveness of the house as he walked into the foyer. Briefly he wondered whether or not Louisa would ever see this grand entrance. He nearly smiled thinking about how she might slowly approach some the ancient artifacts and hideously grotesque suits of armor that lined the walls. But he didn’t smile. And he pushed thoughts of his daughter to back of his mind. It wouldn’t be safe to think of her here in this accursed place.
Narcissa called to him from the library just off the main hall. She had a drink in her hand and was facing the fireplace when he walked in. She didn’t say anything right away. After she finished her drink, she slowly turned around to face her only son. Her welcoming smile did not reach her eyes.
“Draco, my love. Good of you to find time for your mother.” Draco inwardly winced at her tone. He knew what was coming so he braced himself for a diatribe on his shortcomings as the single heir to the Malfoy line. But instead of yelling, she just poured herself another drink and sat down on the chaise in front of the fire. She gestured for him to sit in the high-backed chair to her side. He got himself a drink before he sat down.
Several minutes passed by without either of them speaking. Draco felt himself becoming a bit languid in the heat of the fire. If he wasn’t careful, he would start thinking about Louisa. In an effort to maintain his mental composure, he made himself think of the board meeting he had attended yesterday. What had the goblin liaison said? Oh, yes, the goblins securities analysts had strongly recommended that he invest more money in his muggle portfolios, especially the oil stocks- something about a war driving up global prices… he stopped thinking about stocks when he heard his mother gently clear her throat.
“Draco, you know why I have invited the Parkinsons this evening. You know what is expected of you. Your father and I- your father would have wanted,” she paused, clearing her throat again, “you know what I’m going to say.”
“Mother, I know my duties to my family. I see no benefit in hastily entering a contract of marriage, though,” Draco said firmly.
“We have been through this before, my son. Without a wife or heir, our entire estate will go to the likes of our nearest relatives,” she said, choking on her final word. “Need I remind you of who would inherit your birthright?” she seethed. Draco remained expressionless. His mother trusted him to handle most of the estate matters. Therefore, she had no idea that lying inside his personal Gringotts’ vault was a will that specified that the entire Malfoy estate would be Louisa’s should anything happened to Draco. Rather, his mother believed that without an heir, the estate would be forfeited and thus divided by the two closest relatives.
Her voice much louder now, “That disgusting creature Nymphadora Tonks, born of my own blood traitor sister, would inherit all of this- she and her filthy pet werewolf walking around the halls of our ancestors,” she said while waving her arm around the opulent room. “But even worse, that despicable halfbreed who is responsible for your father’s demise would share it with her.” Draco nodded, they had been through this many times now. Thanks to Sirius Black’s own will, claiming him as sole heir, Harry Potter was now in line for the Malfoy estate.
Narcissa was breathing heavy now. Draco regarded her from his position to her side. She was still so lovely. He could see resemblances between her and Louisa, especially in their profiles. They each had high cheekbones and delicately pointed chins. He wasn’t aware that his own face had softened in his thoughts. Suddenly, Narcissa looked directly at him. He’d been caught looking anything other than disgusted by the thought of Tonks and Potter stealing the Malfoy honor and wealth. She quickly stood up directly in front of him.
“I don’t know where your thoughts lay, my son. But I will know your secret. Too many times have I observed you wearing that face. Your heart has changed. You have changed. You no longer honor your family responsibilities. I must speak with your father about this.” She turned and quickly walked out of the room.
Stopping at the doorway, she addressed him without turning around, “The Parkinsons will be here shortly. You will act in a manner that is appropriate to the expectations of this family.” And then she strode out of the room, presumably to go and talk to Lucius.
With a deep sigh, Draco closed his eyes. He cursed himself for letting his thoughts wander to Louisa. She loosened his control over his life. She was a liability for him. He mused that any child must have that effect on her parent. Was she really going to talk to Lucius? he wondered. He never really knew what his mother meant by this. He knew his mother had always vacillated between reality and her own dreams and thoughts. He supposed it was in her blood. Her own mother was a Seer after all. But Lucius had been dead for more than two years now.
He heard the house elves quietly scurrying in the halls. He put his thoughts of both his mother and his daughter away. The Parkinsons had arrived. Draco knew what was expected of him. As he walked to the hallway to greet his guests, he steeled himself for his family duty.