Oh, Draco well knew his mother was the "resourceful" one. If he hadn't picked up on it during his childhood, he certainly did during the war. He credited Narcissa for keeping him alive where, for all intent and purpose, he likely would been murdered. He had been a credit to Voldemort for one night and one night only. Once Draco let the Death Eaters in, he filled no other purposes. He couldn't torture. He couldn't kill. He couldn't manage to look anything other than petrified.
It was almost nice having a mother who didn't know what a failure he ultimately wound up. Still, Draco wanted his "real" mother since there was so much this younger version didn't know about him or their family. For one, she was speaking about Andromeda openly like it wasn't some dark memory which caused her pain. "I've met her in passing. She seems very kind." He gestured toward the living area. "Would you like anything?"