Not Quite Broken - Part 1 Title: Not Quite Broken Summary: Ginny has become extremely mentally unstable, showing up at the Malfoy residence with no explanation. Draco tries to figure out whether he wants to know what is going on more than he wants her out of his house. However, very few things happen as planned and he finds out the Weasleys sometimes have dark secrets of their own. Characters/Pairings: Draco/Ginny Genre: gen? Rating/Warnings: R / cutting/self-harm Word Count: 5456
That Wiltshire was the most perfect place in all of Britain, and therefore the world had long been a truism for Draco. He could enjoy a full range of seasons without the extremes of discomfort that plagued so many other places. The winters were pleasant; at least it didn't snow as much as in Scotland, nor was it freezing rain as in some parts of the south. The summers were warm, but not so muggy as to make proper robes uncomfortable. Currently, the day was proving more perfect than most. The air was cool, but the sun warmed every spot it touched. Still, with the sky nearly a third full of clouds, no area became too warm.
It was among the rolling hills overlooking green pastures that he found the greatest peace. So much of the world had been touched by the war in ways he couldn't escape or ignore, that finding a place where the only evidence of the war was the fading scar on his left arm was rare. Draco exhaled slowly, allowing tension to leave with his breath. On his ancestral land, he was home, safe, protected. He was accepted and understood. It welcomed him, the Malfoy heir, as if the land itself were sentient.
There were times he wasn't entirely sure it wasn't. During the war itself, his own mind had been far too preoccupied to register let alone decipher the subtleties of the magics surrounding Malfoy Manor. In the last few years, however, he'd felt it more strongly. Perhaps it was age, perhaps he was simply ready to listen. He didn't feel the overwhelming conflict anymore between what he wanted to be and what he was. Despite the last vestiges of the oath he'd taken to the Dark Lord, Draco knew he had never been what was expected of the inner circle. Oh, there had been times when the romantic vision he'd has as a child had called to him. Still, when things began falling apart, he knew, perhaps more clearly than so many others, that it only led to the destruction of everyone it touched.
Now though, the taint of that final year was fading. His home was again warm and inviting, even if few ever knew that. The public image of the Malfoys was a carefully constructed illusion, one nearly destroyed by the actions of his parents the night of the last battle. The night when Harry Potter ended up being their personal saviour as well as the general salvation of the world.
He stopped mid-stride, hearing the tell-tale crack of Apparition behind him. He spun around, wand out. Both of his parents were at home, and despite the vastness of the estate, neither of them tended to use it as a regular means of travel in their own home.
His guard did not lessen when he recognized the intruder. She hadn't seemed to see him as quickly, turning away from him and looking around. When she faced him, he was struck first by the lack of surprise that she should be discovered. "You're trespassing, Weasley."
She stared at him as if she hadn't heard him. He wasn't completely sure she saw him at first, then he watched her face shift, but she hadn't spoken.
"Do you have a death wish, Weasley? You're trespassing." It wasn't that he really intended to kill her. He just wanted her gone, and the strange look in her eyes made him more nervous.
"What are you doing here?" she finally asked.
The complete absurdity of her question made him laugh for a moment. "You're on Malfoy lands, Weaselette." Concern replaced amusement as a flicker of recognition might have shown in her eyes just before she began to laugh. Her laughter was a creepy thing, half-sane at best and more than slightly broken. She collapsed onto the ground, a graceless shift from standing to sitting with legs crossed before her as she stared at her hands, the strange laughter continuing uninterrupted.
"Weasley?" he asked, thoughts forming rapidly in his mind, none of them pleasant. He'd not had any interaction with her nor any of her kin since the war's end, well at least since the trial. He'd not done anything to warrant their attention. In fact, he and his family had been exceedingly careful in their activities, trying to allow time for the spotlight of the moral elite to find another target.
Why she had chosen this spot of land was quickly taking second place to the concern of how she had managed it in her condition, at least without splinching. The twisted thought that she'd managed to leave behind the internal organ of her brain did cross his mind briefly, but he quickly tossed it aside. It didn't answer the question, but judging by her continual haunting laughter, he would have to focus on her presence first and discover the hows and whys later.
"Weasley!" he shouted, but she didn't jump. There was no indication she'd heard him, which didn't bode well for the situation he now found himself in.
Glancing behind him, the house was visible, but far enough away he didn't want to trust the house elf to hear his summons. Still, they were far enough inside the estate that to leave her there laughing quietly to some internal joke was not an option either. He groaned low, shaking his head and levitating her with his wand. Her body flopped over in the air, limp save for the continuing laughter. He thought it was getting softer, but he wasn't sure if that was a positive sign. Still, levitating her all the way to the manor in a dignified fashion would be nearly impossible. While he personally didn't care, he knew it wouldn't be good if she was still coherent, something he sincerely doubted, and managed to remember this later.
With a sigh, he lowered her to the ground, placing a featherlight spell on her, then picking her up and carrying the nearly catatonic witch to the manor. She leaned into his arms, startling him. He recovered quickly, frowning as the timber of her laughter changed to something that might have been recognizable as sobbing.
"Weasley, if this is some form of joke, I swear I'll kill you and your entire family," he muttered, his feet taking him up the well-known way to the house.
It was difficult not to notice her. Her hair and clothes told him she'd likely had Quidditch practice earlier. They were dusty and smelled faintly of cooled sweat. He curled his lip in disgust. He'd have to take a shower after this.
Once within the immediate vicinity of the manor he called out, "Milly!"
With the smaller crack of the house-elf, she appeared, "Yes, Master Draco? What can Milly do for Master Draco?"
"Inform my parents that we have an ill guest. Ask my mother to meet me in the parlour." It had taken only a moment's thought to decide that it would not be best for Lucius and the girl in his arms to meet immediately. Perhaps his mother's nurturing would help.
The house-elf bowed, "Yes, Master Draco. Mistress Narcissa will be told."
Before he could dismiss her, she'd disappeared, eager to complete the task. He frowned slightly, not sure he appreciated her over-zealous initiative. Still, she'd never truly given him cause to complain.
He looked down at the form in his arms, still shaking slightly with either laughter or tears. He presumed the former. She hadn't seemed to react to Milly's presence either, lost in her own mind.
Serves them right, he thought, to attack our inbreeding when they're not better. Draco wondered if the illustrious Molly Prewett ever really taught her children their family lineage. Or Arthur, whose family continued to rob the proper families of children and siblings.
"Draco!" his mother gasped from the front door. She was standing there, arms clasped looking an odd mix of relieved and concerned.
He climbed up the steps to the house. "I'm fine, Mother. It seems, however, we have an uninvited guest." His eyes indicated the girl in his arms.
Narcissa's eyes had already found the red hair, her lips pursed tightly. She did not try to stop him, instead holding the door open for him as he carried Ginny Weasley past the front doors and into the parlour. Wordlessly, he laid her down on a sofa.
Ginny continued to shake, though it was little more than fine tremors now. Her eyes were glazed over, and he was more than certain she was not aware of her surroundings.
It shocked Draco that being brought into the same house that had held so much horror near the end of the war didn't jolt her out of her state. The last time, the only time, a member of her immediate family had been here, he'd been tossed into the basement along with the wandmaker, Lovegood and Potter.
Colour drained from his face as he realized that someone could be looking for her currently, which would bring them to his doorstep, and Merlin it did not look good. Anger quickly followed his fear, as it often did with Malfoys. If they wanted to get angry with him for coming to her aid, they were truly fools. He took a breath, then looked over at his mother who was already kneeling next to the redhead. It did little for his anger to see his mother tending to a worthless brat, but he kept it in check.
"She Apparated right behind me," he offered. "I'm not sure she even knows where she is. She didn't seem to see me, or even be aware of where she was. When I confronted her, she collapsed and began laughing. She hasn't stopped," he finished, much softer than when he began.
Narcissa nodded not turning from her patient, "Lucius, would you call for a mediwitch, please? I think it best if we don't move her."
Draco spun to see his father standing behind him. He hadn't noticed the additional presence, though his mother had obviously either known it or expected it. He criticized himself for his lack of observation. Either he was preoccupied with the Weasley or he was losing all awareness of his surroundings. Neither option appealed to him.
Lucius stood there, arms crossed and gave one curt nod. "Of course. Draco, come with me." Draco turned from the room to follow his father. Even at twenty-two, ignoring a direct order from Lucius Malfoy was not something that entered his mind.
He followed his father to the sitting room and the floo, standing behind the older Malfoy respectfully as he conducted the firecall. Years of training had him not listening, only catching snippets of conversation by the necessity to not be caught unawares.
He needn't have bothered. His father rose and turned to face him, steely silver eyes examining him for signs of either physical harm or emotional betrayal, Draco wasn't sure. "You seem no worse for the wear," he commented calmly with a nod.
"I wasn't harmed. I'm not even sure how she landed where she did." He fought the tendency to become the schoolboy defending himself to the beloved monster he'd made his father into.
"No, I don't imagine you do. However, this brings up questions as to how Miss Weasley knew enough of our grounds to Apparate into the middle without managing to splinch herself irrevocably." Lucius' eyebrow went up and his gaze became piercing. "She did not splinch herself, did she?"
Draco resented the suggestion he wouldn't have thought of that and grit his teeth together. "Well, I didn't exactly go peeking under her quidditch gear, but I am reasonably sure she didn't leave anything behind, unless you're talking about what passes for a brain in their family." He'd spat his response out before regaining control of his emotions. Lashing out at his father was rarely done, and even more rarely tolerated. He straightened slightly, speaking far more calmly now. "No, as far as I can tell, she did not splinch herself."
Lucius nodded once. "And she did not say anything before she fell into this," he paused, "fit?" Draco shook his head, "No. I think there might have been a glimmer of recognition when I told her she was on Malfoy lands, but nothing else. She hasn't even responded to anything that happened to her."
His heart constricted in what he could only attribute fear in response to an unwitting lie to his father over a small detail. The reaction must have shown on his face as his father tilted his head slightly, "Go on."
"When I picked her up, she pressed into me, but it was likely only a response to being touched. Or an instinct to move closer so one doesn't fall while being carried."
"Perhaps," Lucius said, his drawl making his own opinion on the matter clear. "Still, hardly an appropriate response while in the arms of an enemy."
"What? No!" Draco insisted, his own mind reeling. The Weaselette could not be attracted to him. It wasn't that he wasn't worth every witch's adoration. It was that he didn't want to sully himself with having even unconsciously given her something she wanted. That his father could imagine the worst thought that he had encouraged it was unbearable.
His father ignored the protests, continuing in his steady smooth tone. "The mediwitch will be here shortly. Once she has examined Miss Weasley, you will contact her family and inform them of her whereabouts so they can come claim her."
Draco nodded, trying to keep a tight reign on the swirling emotions inside him. "Yes, Father." Lucius nodded, indicating for Draco to stay where he was while he continued back to the parlour. Narcissa looked up at her husband, noting Draco wasn't with him. She nodded, motioning for him to approach. He stepped up to her, standing just far enough back that he wouldn't be able to touch the redhead even with his cane, an appendage he'd left in the other room as a show of trust, she was sure.
"She seems completely unaware, catatonic almost," she shook her head, standing to face her husband.
"He said that there might have been a glimpse of something when he told her where she was," Lucius offered, his eyes straying to the girl before trying to focus on the witch before him. "And that she turned into his arms when he picked her up."
Narcissa smiled slightly at him. "Lucius, what witch wouldn't turn into a Malfoy's arms when he held her? He was offering her safety, that's all." She placed her hand gently on his arm. "But I can ask him if you'd prefer?"
"I'd prefer it wasn't a question at all, Narcissa," he replied, his steely tone covering his insecurity from all but her.
Narcissa's smile turned sad. "Lucius, even if he were having trysts, you know he wouldn't bring them here. And you didn't see how he was holding her," she chuckled softly, "All awkwardness." When his face didn't soften, she smiled a bit more, the pale blue of her eyes lighting up. "Besides, just because you went and slept with all manner of undesirables doesn't mean he will."
"Narcissa! I never--" his face contorted in his indignation.
She laughed then, "Fine, just the once, and that was how many years ago now, Lucius? We weren't even engaged then."
He softened then and touched her face gently, cupping her cheek and tracing her cheekbone with his thumb. "It was several lifetimes ago," he agreed.
"He is not involved with this girl, Lucius. But she obviously had thoughts of us when she Apparated here. The question," she placed her hand over his so that he would not remove it. "Is what was the nature of those thoughts?"
Lucius nodded, his eyes closed as he took comfort from his wife even though everything in their stances said he was the one giving comfort. When he heard the floo, he tensed and withdrew his arm, nodding to Narcissa.
They turned as one when Draco led the mediwitch to the parlour. Lucius stepped back toward the pianoforte, allowing the others to take over as he watched impassively.
Narcissa smiled at the healer. "Thank you, Mrs Charingworth. I'm sorry to have given you such short notice, but as you can see," she motioned to Ginny, "We have a bit of a time-sensitive issue here."
Mrs Charingworth was a stout woman with small hands and thick fingers. She smiled, and while nearly a foot shorter than both Draco and Lucius, she commanded respect from both of them while in her own element. "Master Draco was telling me that the young woman simply appeared and hasn't seemed present at all."
Narcissa nodded, "There has been little change. She seems to have eased her shaking, but her eyes are still vacant and tears flow silently from them."
The healer nodded, moving quickly to the sofa and kneeling, her wand out. "Did you check for spells?"
Narcissa glanced at Draco who shook his head, hands up in defense. "No, we hadn't wanted to do anything that might interfere with your diagnosis," she offered. Another nod and the woman was conducting a series of spells. Draco watched each spell, wondering what it meant, knowing only that the more spells she had to cast, the more complicated the situation likely was.
It was several minutes later that she turned around, facing the family and tucking her wand in her pocket. "Miss Weasley has had no spells cast on her. There are no traces of potion in her system either." Draco opened his mouth to argue, but was silenced by the healer's hand. "She is suffering from a mental breakdown. There are potions, of course, that will help, but for a while she will not be able to be moved. She'll need a place she feels safe."
At that, Draco snorted, silenced by a sharp look from his mother.
"Mrs Charingworth, don't you think she should return home to her family?" Narcissa asked calmly. Draco was amazed at his mother's control.
The witch nodded, "Yes, but she won't be able to travel by magic. So they'll have to bring some other form of transportation."
Narcissa nodded, "Of course."
"It is very crucial, Mrs Malfoy, that they understand. I am not sure what is wrong with her completely, and we won't until she can tell us." Draco knew he didn't want to contemplate what that meant.
The witch moved toward the floo. "I shall return shortly with the potion. I would recommend not leaving her alone. It would not do her any good to become aware alone in a house that is not her own."
Draco and Lucius watched her leave as Narcissa turned back to Ginny. "Lucius, Draco, go and wait for her. Draco, I want you to bring me the potion when she returns."
Draco nodded, leading the way out of the room. Narcissa waited until they had left before shaking her head sadly. "What kind of havoc have you brought into my house?" she asked softly. "Why us?"
She sighed, "Milly," she commanded softly, nodding when the house-elf appeared. "Bring me the light summer quilt from the linen closet." She barely heard the elf acknowledge the command before disappearing. The creature reappeared shortly thereafter, carrying a white quilt decorated with roses and stitched with silver and green threads. Narcissa took the item and placed it over the young girl, her own protective mothering tendencies overriding her distaste for the girl's family.
Draco returned with the potion to see his mother dabbing Ginny's eyes with her handkerchief. The laughter had turned to tears then. The understanding was met with cold acceptance. "Mother? The healer said to give her a few sips three times a day."
Narcissa turned to him and smiled, waving him down to kneel next to her. Draco held his tongue regarding his opinion on Malfoys on their knees serving a Weasley.
"Lift her head for me?" she asked, taking the potion and uncorking it.
He nodded, lifting Ginny's head and carefully moving the red tresses away from her face so that his mother could set the potion bottle to her lips. He frowned, turning to his mother in alarm when the younger witch began to whimper again and turned into his touch. Narcissa leveled her gaze on him communicating without words. He shifted his grasp so that his mother could place the mouth of the bottle against the girl's lips.
After ensuring the unresponsive redhead had in fact taken at least some of the liquid, Narcissa nodded and replaced the stopper. Draco set Ginny's head back on the sofa, nearly jumping as she gripped his hand close to her, not letting him go.
He turned a pleading eye to his mother who shook her head. "I'll contact the Weasleys. We'll talk later."
"Mother," he protested, the childhood whine tingeing his voice.
"She's your responsibility, Draco. Do not argue with me." With that, she turned and left the room.
Draco sighed, lowering himself to the floor and looking forlornly at his trapped hand. She had pulled it tighter to her, her grip solid even as her breathing eased.
He frowned and hung his head, closing his eyes. He wanted to argue with his mother, convince her he had no responsibility in this. He only wished he believed it himself. Had she never said anything, had the words themselves never been spoken, he could have ignored the nagging voice in his mind. She was Potter's problem. Weaselby's problem. She wasn't supposed to be his.
"Draco."
His head shot up in reaction to his father's stern voice. He extracted his hand, grateful there was no resistance. It seemed the potion had calmed her enough to sleep. He let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. Lucius was standing, arms folded across his chest, staring down his nose at the two of them.
He stood quickly and approached his father who turned and headed down the hall. Draco winced at the behaviour, but followed without comment. His father led him the short way back to the sitting room where his mother was seated, taking tea.
"Mrs Weasley is on her way," Narcissa announced as Lucius sat in the chair next to her. Draco tensed, but nodded. While he wanted nothing more than for the Weaselette to be gone and to be able to repress the incident into oblivion, he was not looking forward to the process of ridding his home of her.
"She is bringing her youngest son with her." Narcissa paused, allowing the impact of her words to settle. "I expect you to be on your best behaviour."
"He's the one who always antagonized me!" The rest of his argument collapsed at his mother's gaze. He wondered petulantly if she'd have had this conversation with his father had it been Arthur Weasley who was arriving. "Fine. I won't intentionally irritate him."
His parents seemed satisfied with that statement, their faces softening as he sat down opposite them.
"Now, before they arrive, are you certain nothing is going on between you and Miss Weasley?" Narcissa asked.
Draco looked up, noting his father's pained look as well. At least he wasn't in on this line of questioning.
"I have absolutely no," he paused, his lip curling, "desires, intent or history with that, that," he stopped, satisfying himself with ending the statement by a vague gesture toward the parlour.
"We believe you, it's just," Narcissa started, then looked toward Lucius as if asking his help. The returned expression made it clear no help was forthcoming. "It's just that we still don't know how she managed to Apparate to our home, let alone near you."
He sighed, shaking his head, resting it in his hands. "I don't know, Mother. I haven't spoken with her since we were in school, even then, the number of truly civil incidents can be counted on one hand."
"Mistress Narcissa?" Milly asked, wringing her hands nervously. "Mistress, the guest is awake."
Narcissa set her tea down quickly, standing. "Draco, come with me." She looked at her husband apologetically. "Lucius, would you wait for Molly?"
He nodded, his understanding of the multiple reasons evident in every move.
Draco stood again, wondering which fate would be worse, greeting the Weasleys or dealing with the uninvited guest. He wished they would have let him simply retreat to his room, but being called into service was no surprise. He followed his mother to find Ginny Weasley sitting on the sofa, looking around and holding her head.
"Miss Weasley," his mother intoned calmly. Ginny looked up, fear warring with the sedative potion in her system. "You are safe. You arrived at our home an hour ago and were administered a sedative potion."
"Why didn't you leave me?"
"Pardon?" Narcissa asked.
Draco's eyes widened in surprise as he stared at the redhead. "How could I leave you? You'd Apparated right behind me. What was I supposed to do? You were nonresponsive, just sitting there laughing--"
"Draco," his mother chided. "You were not well."
"I'm fine," Ginny retorted. The tone would have been snapping had she not been sedated. "I'll just go. I don't want to be a burden."
Draco blanched at the pointed glare from his mother. He took a breath. "Look, Weasley, Ginny, you're not a burden." She laughed hollowly, shaking her head. "You're not." He didn't believe it, but he hoped it was convincing enough for her.
She looked at him, "You can't be serious."
Draco looked at his mother for help. He had no stomach for any of this, groveling to a Weasley was beneath him, begging of anyone was demeaning.
"Miss Weasley," Narcissa crooned, moving toward the girl still on the sofa and sitting on the end away from her. Ginny flinched, watching her carefully, but otherwise didn't move. "Consider that you've done us a favor."
Draco was so shocked at his mother's phrase he almost missed that it derailed Ginny as well. She tilted her head, then shook it once more as if trying to clear it.
"How did I help you? That makes even less sense than him," she motioned toward Draco, "being my saviour."
Narcissa chuckled softly. "Why by allowing us to prove we aren't heartless, my dear. By coming to our home, you have allowed us to prove that we have grown beyond the war, beyond the differences in politics to help a fellow witch."
Had he been able to, Draco would have laughed heartily at his mother's manipulation. Still, part of him wondered if she wasn't manipulating him as well. Once spoken, the words settled into his mind, illuminating all the ways he could benefit from this that his distaste of the girl's family had blocked from view.
Ginny nodded, "All, all right. I just, don't tell my parents, please? I'm feeling better, I'll just go."
Narcissa looked at Draco briefly, "Your mother is already on her way."
Ginny stood up then, the quilt crumpled at her feet. "No. No! I've put them through enough." Her eyes darted around, finally taking in the details of the room and the likely layout of the house.
Draco and Narcissa shared a pained look. Draco physically winced when he heard the floo. From the full-bodied twitch Ginny exhibited he knew she'd heard it too. He stepped toward her, not sure whether he was intending to catch her or simply stop her from leaving.
"You didn't have to tell her," Ginny protested. "I've put her through too much already."
"Not knowing where you had gone would have been worse," Narcissa countered softly. "You haven't put her through anymore than Draco's put us through." He glared at her briefly before glancing in the direction of the floo.
"Please, you should have just left me. I don't want to be indebted to you." Her eyes darted to the door behind Draco as a woman's voice carried through the hallway.
"Yes, well, thank you Lucius, but I'll be seeing her now. She needs her mother," Molly Weasley's high pitched lilt protested.
"Of course, Molly. Narcissa and Draco are with her currently."
Ginny straightened, and Draco noticed that she'd managed to hide most of the effects of the sedative. He frowned, wondering what she was going to do.
"I'm fine, Mum," she greeted as Molly entered the room and swooped down on her youngest child.
"Oh my darling, Ginny, what happened to you? You gave us such a fright, with a firecall from Narcissa Malfoy and wondering why you were here, why you didn't come home if you weren't feeling well," she babbled on, heedless of the three Malfoys standing witness to her prattle. Narcissa moved to stand near Lucius. Draco presumed as much to give the Weasleys some space as to put her calming influence near her husband. Draco stood where he was, unsure how to proceed. He tried to ignore the older witch's running commentary until she turned to him specifically.
"Thank you for helping her, Draco."
He bowed, more out of instinct than desire, then shook his head, "No thanks are required, Mrs Weasley. I would like to think anyone would have done the same."
While Molly smiled, seemingly content with the answer, he noticed Ginny cringed more, pulling into herself. He'd tried to downplay the importance, how much she'd put him out, but even that hadn't been enough. Or was it that she felt he'd betrayed the full extent of her condition to her mother? He wanted to shake his head, giving up on attempting to understand the obviously insane witch before him.
"Molly, how long before your husband will be here?" Lucius asked.
Draco realized with a start that Ron hadn't come with his mother. He let out a small sigh of relief, then pursed his lips in an attempt to conceal his slip of control. His relief crashed into jagged rocks as Molly responded.
"He should be here shortly. Harry and Ron are trying to see if they can't help him get a car here faster."
If Draco had been bothered by the thought of Potter and Weaselby running to Ginny's rescue, he noticed that Ginny must have been horrified. She began shaking her head violently. "No, Mum, please, it's not that big a deal. The Malfoys were just helping me. This isn't something for Harry to have to deal with."
"Now now, Ginny, that's just silly. Harry loves you. He's just worried."
But Draco noticed what Molly must have missed in her coddling. Ginny didn't believe Harry loved her. The blank look that had shown in her eyes right before she collapsed at his feet was back and he took half a step forward before catching himself. He clenched his fists briefly, then took a breath, allowing his tension to leave with the air.
"Draco, would you go check on the Milly?" his mother asked.
Draco nodded, smiling slightly. "Of course," he responded with gratitude only she and his father would have been able to detect. He turned to the Weasleys and made a small bow. "Mrs Weasley, Ginny, if you'll excuse me?"
Molly nodded absently, "Of course. Thank you again for saving my little girl."
Draco winced at the phrasing and noticed Ginny did as well. In an attempt to not lose control again, he looked to his parents and at his mother's nod, he left.
House-elves didn't need checking on, but Draco wasn't about to refuse the easy escape option. Dealing with Ginny's hothead brother was one thing. Dealing with he and Potter would have been too much, a fact only made worse by the lifedebt he owed the wizard.
It was nearly three hours later when his parents joined him in the parlour. He'd poured himself a scotch, but hadn't gotten through even half of it as he stared at the fireplace, haunted by how much the day's events had affected him. "Draco?" his mother asked.
He looked up at her, then rose to his feet, manners instinctive. "Yes, Mother?"
She shook her head, "You shouldn't worry so much. The Potter boy was perfectly polite."
Lucius shared a look with Draco that said very clearly he agreed that the reason Harry had been polite was Draco hadn't been there.
"I'm glad, then. Still, I'm glad this is over." He finished his scotch and set down his glass, nodding to his parents and passing by them.
"Draco?" his father's question forcing him to stop.
Without turning around, Draco shook his head. "I just need to lie down for a little while. I've a headache. It's nothing." When no other protest was made, Draco nodded and headed onto his room.