"And no matter how much my mother would wish to deny her," Draco said dryly.
Alys peeked up at him, small lips pursed in an irritable expression as she declared in French, "Grandma is mean."
Draco combed her hair with his fingers, "Oui. But she is not the one who owns the townhouse, and she tempts me to convince her to leave, and to take her portraits with her." Which was hard to admit. Draco had been close to his mother as a child, and it had been her love for her son that had saved his life and had made an impact on the war. Seeing the changes in her, and her rejection of his daughter, was not easy for him.
Alyssa nodded solemnly and slowly turned on his lap so she could see Daphne, but still cling closely to her father. "I like lions," she said in quiet French. Draco couldn't help the smirk as his daughter proved what he had suspected for a time now: she understood English perfectly well, and refused to speak it.
"I do not think the lions mean what they used to," he said easily, following Daphne into the discussion of the persecution around them. "We have all changed, and the dividing lines are placed far differently than they once were. And quite blatantly as well." Between the brands and public policies, it was impossible to miss who was considered an ST.