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“We should invite the Granger family to lunch.”
Draco ’s entire body stiffened, nor did he turn to look at his mother.
“Of course, by that, I mean lunch with you and I and not any place you’re father might end up running across us,” Narcissa continued. Draco turned to look at her, attempting to give her the best look of confusion that she could. “I mean, you are aware of places that Muggles would frequent, right?”
“Why would I?” His mother’s words felt like a test, a test to see where his loyalties lay, although he wasn’t sure anymore.
“Because you’ve been spending time with the Granger girl,” Narcissa said. Draco turned to look back out the window.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Draco said.
“What do you mean, you don’t know what I’m talking about?”
“I mean what I mean,” Draco muttered, turning to look away from her.
“I have my sources.”
“You mean to say you’ve been having me followed.”
“Don’t deny that you’ve been spending time with the girl and her family. I also know you’ve had a crush on her…”
Draco turned, giving his mother a look that made her stop talking. She remained cool, collected as she looked at him, yet she said nothing else at that moment. He turned back to the window, contemplating the fact he ’d planned on heading over to the Granger household yet again, yet decided he’d wait a bit.
At least, until he thought his mother had cooled down.
And he thought she ’d forgotten about it, yet Hermione’s father—he would say later, “Remember. Your mother is a Black, first and foremost. We’re a stubborn lot.”
He ’d headed over, having been invited to come over whenever. He’d thought he might talk to Hermione’s father—Uncle Regulus. Instead, the man simply let him sit there, enjoying the silence, or he put on Muggle music ranging from classical to rock music. Sometimes Hermione would be there, and they’d talk about various things in the magical community while Regulus and even his wife Olivia would listen.
It was a safe place, a place away from his parents—
Yet, he should have known from what his mother said when she said she wanted to invite the Granger family for lunch that she wouldn ’t let it go, that she would do something. He wished he’d thought of letting Regulus, even Hermione know, though—he didn’t know if she knew who her father was, so ever confusing.
He was in there, settling onto the couch while Regulus started tea. He did it without magic when a knock came at the door. Draco didn ’t think of it when he was asked to get the door. He sucked in his breath. “Mother.”
“Draco.”
“It’s not what you think.” He already thought of how Regulus told him not to tell her that he was alive.
“Sure it isn’t,” she said, brushing her way in. “Where is Mr. Granger?”
Draco heard the sudden crashing from the other room and knew that Regulus overheard. He took a deep breath, not knowing how this would turn out. His mother, with her nose in the air headed to the question, her wand out. “Looks like something needs fixing.”
“You mean you want to show off,” Draco muttered which earned him a look from her, to which she turned her head.
She screamed.
Draco couldn ’t think of a time that he’d ever heard his mother scream, let alone clasp her hands to her mouth. She looked at the man with his dark hair, her pale skin becoming even paler.
Regulus leaned up against the counter. “S-sorry.”
“I didn’t tell her.”
“I—” Regulus frowned.
Narcissa turned on him then, her hands dropping. “Kind of obvious from my reaction!” Her eyes were cool, filled with anger he’d never seen directed at him. “You knew?”
“I—”
“Draco—” Regulus started.
“And you!” Narcissa turned, pointing at him. “We thought you dead, all these years and you didn’t think we’d care!”
“Well, no. I mean—”
“Regulus Arcturus Black!”
“It isn’t as if he could have told you if he wanted,” Draco sighed.
“And what is that supposed to mean!” Narcissa turned on him. “What does that mean?”
“Hermione returned my memories,” Regulus said.
“Your—” Narcissa turned, sniffing as she did. “Well, I guess I can forgive you for letting me think you were dead. But not getting in contact? You know better Regulus. You know better.”
“Mother.”
“Don’t—”
“Cissy,” Regulus said.
“Don’t!” She threw up her hands.
“This is why he didn’t tell you!” Draco snapped. He watched his mother turn to look at him, surprised, but then she looked at Regulus.
“You’re alive.”
“Surprisingly, yes.”
“And someone erased your memories.”
“Obviously it wasn’t you.”
“That—” Her mouth twisted. “Stop acting like your older brother, smarting off like that. It’s not like you.”
“Not like me.” Regulus frowned. “I wonder if anybody knew the real me.”
“And who’s the real you.”
“My wife’s a Muggle,”
Draco watched what Regulus said sink in for his mother.
“And no, Olivia didn’t trick me.”
“No. A Muggle couldn’t erase your memory. It would have to be…” Narcissa pushed her lips together. “Arcturus maybe?”
“Grandfather?” Regulus tilted his head. “Well, maybe.”
“Given the way Uncle Orion reacted to your death—” She took a deep breath. “Let’s not go there.”
“Please. Let’s not.”
“So—” She looked around the house. “This is so not up to the standards of the Black family.”
“Don’t care if it is. I don’t care what you think about this, all of this.”
She turned to look at Regulus. “This means that this Hermione Granger is Half-Blood, not Muggleborn?”
“Mother!” Draco felt embarrassed.
“Why else are you conversing with him, if it is not to—”
“Because I hate the fact I became a Death Eater!” Draco snapped. The look on her face, it was soft, non-argumentative.
“Mutual,” Regulus muttered. “Something I understand.”
“Hermione…”
“See. You call her by her first name.” Narcissa interrupted him.
“Mother.”
“My daughter thought we’d both benefit from talking to each other,” Regulus said.
“My son has had a crush on your daughter since their first year.”
“Mother!”
Regulus gave him a pitying look. “I figured.”
“Not as if she’d ever reciprocated. I mean…”
“Well, your father may not like her, but I do. And don’t forget you lied and I lied when they brought them to our manor.”
“What…”
Narcissa turned. “What? You…”
“We don’t talk about the war. There’s…”
“Well, I want to invite you and your wife to lunch. Mind you, not including Lucius.”
“Lu?”
“He hates you calling him that. But yes. Some places your wife and you like?” She’d regained her composure. “I’ll be leaving now.”
And she apparated away. Draco looked at Regulus. “I am so sorry.”
“Remember. Your mother is a Black, first and foremost. We’re a stubborn lot.”