alisanne

Title: Going Home: Part Six
Author:

alisanne
Word count: 760
Rating: PG
Characters/pairings: Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy, Narcissa Malfoy.
Challenge: Written for

dracoharry100/

dracoharry100's Christmas Challenge prompt: Mistletoe, and for

slythindor100/

slythindor100's 25 days of Christmas, Day 6 (traditional): Staircase decorated for Christmas.
Disclaimer: The characters contained herein are not mine. No money is being made from this fiction, which is presented for entertainment purposes only.
Beta(s):

sevfan and emynn.
Authors Notes: Part 6 of Going Home (LJ/IJ/DW).

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Going Home: Part Six

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When Harry next opened his eyes they were standing in Malfoy Manor, and although it was beautifully decorated for Christmas, with a large, gaily trimmed Christmas tree, bouquets of flowers on every surface, mistletoe floating overhead, and greenery going all the way up the stairs, Harry couldn’t suppress a shiver.

“You okay?” asked Draco, stepping back to look at him.

“Fine,” Harry said. As Draco raised an eyebrow, he sighed. “Well, maybe not fine, but I’ll manage. It just feels weird being back.” He tried to smile. “Looks like you haven’t been blocked from the wards, at least.”

“I’m honestly surprised,” Draco admitted. He looked around. “And someone decided to go all out with the decorations this year.”

Harry nodded at the ceiling. “There’s even mistletoe.”

“Well,” murmured Draco, “we can’t let that opportunity pass.” Leaning in, he kissed Harry.

When they separated, Harry was more relaxed. “Maybe we shouldn’t be snogging in your mother’s entrance hallway.”

Draco snorted. “If they didn’t want snogging, they shouldn’t have put up mistletoe.”

“This did occur to me,” came a voice, and as they both turned to look, Narcissa, clad in elegant light blue robes, glided down the stairs. “Still, I thought it…appropriate. Welcome home, Draco. Hello, Mr Potter.”

Draco’s fingers tightened on Harry’s. “Mother,” he said, voice cool. “You look well.”

A faint smile touched Narcissa’s lips. “Thank you.” Her eyes dipped to their clasped hands. “And you look happy. Mr Potter’s company clearly agrees with you.”

Harry blinked. She sounded almost friendly.

“It does,” said Draco, a tone of defiance in his voice. “He’s good for me, and I’m good for him.” He raised his chin, challenge etched in his expression. “We’re—”

“Good for each other?” Narcissa inclined her head. “I’m getting that impression.”

Draco sighed and deflated. “Why are we here, Mother? And where’s Father? Your letter made it sound like he’s ill or—”

“Dying?” Narcissa, having made it to the bottom of the stairs, clenched the banister. “He may well be, unless you help him.”

“Me?” Draco took a step back. “What do I have to do with it?”

Narcissa exhaled. “Would you have tea with me? Both of you? Standing here like this feels so…impersonal.”

Draco looked at Harry, who shrugged. “Very well,” said Draco. “Lead the way.”

Moving past them, Narcissa led them into a cosy room where a table had been set for tea. It overlooked a garden, and though it was winter, there were all sorts of flowers blooming.

“The ice roses are lovely this year,” said Draco as he sat. “And the holly.”

Narcissa’s smile widened. “They are, aren’t they? I had to double the charms on the roses to get them to bloom a bit early, but it was worth it.”

“Lovely,” echoed Harry, not sure which flowers they meant.

Draco smiled. “They’re the creamy white roses over there,” he said, pointing towards the centre of the garden. “They bloom at Christmas, but only under certain conditions. Mother is one of few witches who can successfully grow them.”

“I taught Draco the charm,” said Narcissa, gracefully pouring tea into cups. “But it’s clear his interests now lie in other directions.”

Draco stiffened. “Mother—”

“That wasn’t a criticism,” Narcissa added quickly, her expression pleading. “Please, enjoy your tea. We can speak afterwards.”

Exhaling, Draco sat back in his chair and sipped, his eyes never leaving Narcissa’s face. Harry helped himself to a couple of sandwiches and tried not to breathe too loudly. Narcissa simply sipped her tea, staring out the window. No one said anything.

Finally, Draco cleared his throat. “You win, Mother. I’m tired of playing your game. I’ll ask. What’s wrong with Father?”

Narcissa blinked, looking away from the picturesque view. “I’m not playing a game, Draco. Your Father is ill, and the St Mungo’s Healers say there’s not much they can do.”

Draco reached for Harry’s hand beneath the table. “And you asked me here to say goodbye?”

“No.” Squaring her shoulders, Narcissa stared at him. “When has your father ever taken anyone at their word?”

Draco smiled faintly. “He went elsewhere to look for a cure.”

Narcissa hummed. “He consulted African herbalists, Tibetan monk doctors, he even went to a Muggle hospital.” She shuddered.

“And there was nothing?” Draco asked.

Narcissa looked away. “He found something. It’s not a conventional therapy, but it’s possible it could work, but only with your cooperation.”

“My cooperation?” Draco frowned. “How does this involve me?”

“Because the procedure would necessitate syphoning off some of your magic to donate to him.”

~

Continued in Going Home: Part Seven (LJ/IJ/DW)