Chapter 18
Choices
Narcissa Malfoy awoke with a start. She sat bolt upright in bed, and gasped loud enough to wake up her husband beside her.
“Narcissa?” Lucius murmured sleepily, “What is it?”
“Brown eyes.”
“Hmmmmm?”
“Brown eyes…Genevieve Fougere’s eyes are blue- and tonight they were brown, I’m sure of it.”
Lucius sighed heavily, and turned on his side to face her, “What are you implying, Narcissa?”
“I don’t know, exactly.” She frowned, her heart still racing from the sudden realization. “It just…well…I hadn’t seen the girl in years. She wasn’t quite what I expected. Pretty enough, but when all of this was arranged- back when she was a girl, she was sweet, and now…”
“You worry too much.” Lucius attempted to placate her. He tugged her gently back toward the pillows. “I’m sure that once she’s a little more secure-”
“You aren’t honestly thinking of making Draco marry her!”
Lucius sighed again, and this time he sat up, aware that he wasn’t getting back to sleep until the matter was resolved, “What choice do I have, Narcissa? It’s a magically binding contract. Merlin only knows what sort of hexes Henri and his barristers have cast on it if we breach- I know what I did, and that’s scary enough.
“And if Draco has chosen someone else?” Narcissa pressed.
“Then the deal is off.” Lucius said, tersely. “And Malfoy Industries will be effectively out of the cauldron business on the continent…but I don’t know why we’re having this conversation, because he hasn’t, and it looks as though he won’t.”
“Lucius,” Narcissa hesitated, wondering if she really wanted to stir the hornet’s nest. She couldn’t hold her tongue. “You heard him tonight.” She said at last, carefully watching his eyes.
Lucius flinched. “I heard him.”
“And you don’t believe him?” Narcissa was puzzled, “Draco knows how you feel about the Weasley’s darling. It took a lot of courage to-”
“Courage I’ll grant him-but love?” Lucius looked at his wife carefully. “It’s one thing to blurt something out when you are having an argument with your father, and quite another to actually live out what you say. If he fancies himself in love with that girl, why doesn’t he do something about it? Why doesn’t he make a choice?”
“If Ginny was his choice you wouldn’t object?” Narcissa said in an astonished voice. Truly, after more than twenty years of marriage, Lucius never ceased to amaze her.
“How could I?” He replied. He chuckled faintly at the shock on her face, and traced a finger tenderly across her cheek. “I’d have to admire a man who’d face down family objections to be with the woman he loved…he’d remind me too much of me.”
~*~
Lucius was in an excessively cheerful mood the next morning. Narcissa had seen that his open-mindedness was well-rewarded and while he had gotten far less sleep than he ordinarily required, it was easy enough for the chairman of the board to cancel a morning meeting. So it was that he was still sitting at the breakfast table, pouring over the morning edition of the Daily Prophet when his son entered the room.
“Good morning, father.” Draco said quietly. The pitch and inflection of his voice was so odd that it coaxed Lucius’s gaze from the paper to stare at his son.
While Lucius Malfoy’s nocturnal activities had left him invigorated and refreshed, the night hours had worked precisely opposite effect on his son. There were bags under the boy’s eyes, and his usually shining hair was grey and limp. “Are you feeling well, Draco?” Lucius asked, frowning. “I could send the elves for a pepper-up potion.”
“I’m fine, father.” Draco replied wearily, then admitted, “I didn’t sleep.”
“Something on your mind?” Lucius shifted uncomfortably. For all the well-earned pride that he took in his progeny, he was unaccustomed to holding tete-a-tete’s. “Er…girl problems?” He ventured a guess. Narcissa was right: he wasn’t fond of the idea of Ginny Weasley for a daughter-in-law (apart from the consoling detail that it would, undoubtably, crush Arthur Weasley’s soul), but his declaration of support had been genuine. The girl was a pureblood. Unlike some of the other prospects of the year she promised to have something of a brain and, at least according to Narcissa, her showing at debutante functions had demonstrated a passable degree of taste. He was certain that things could be worse.
“Yes.” Draco blurted. Then, his face going white, “I mean no…I mean…I-I’ve decided…I’m going to France.”
The shock on Lucius Malfoy’s face must have been palpable, because Draco flinched, averting his gaze to the floor. It took the elder Malfoy several moments before he recovered his capacity for speech. Although this was technically what he wanted, it was the last thing he had expected his son to say, and he was unprepared with a response. “Oh?” he finally managed, ruffling the paper as an excuse for something to do with his hands.
“Yes.” Draco said, a little more firmly. “I’ve been thinking about what you said…about my needing to take direction in my life and…well, like you said- it’s a great opportunity, father. There’s a big future in cauldrons, and I’d like to be a part of it.”
It was all that Lucius could do to keep from scowling. Was this the son that he had raised? Parroting back precisely what he thought that he wanted his father to hear, rather than finding the guts to say what he really felt? “So you’re going to marry Miss Fougere then?” He drawled cruelly, enjoying the jolt of panic that marred Draco’s face.
The boy was still for a moment as he mastered himself, then replied. “No…er…I mean, I rather not, sir.” He said quickly, “That is…don’t I still have time to make up my mind?”
“Until your birthday.” Lucius answered dryly, “Though, if you’ve found a girl, it would be better to get things settled- cleaner to tie up loose ends now than waiting.” He stared at his son, awaiting a response. When none was forthcoming, he frowned. Merlin! How much easier did it have to be?
Draco stared at Lucius, eyes wide, looking like a mouse waiting for a trap to snap shut. “No, father.” He said quickly.
Lucius rattled the paper, “Very well. I’ll speak with Henri this afternoon. I’m sure that he’ll be ready for you to start as soon as you can.”
Lucius didn’t linger over his tea. As soon as his son sat down, he stood up, excusing himself with a murmur of business in town. Draco watched his father go, and then reached for a piece of toast. He took a bite, but couldn’t swallow. His mouth was dry, and he felt like he might be sick.
What was he thinking?
I’m making a decision, for once. Draco insisted to himself. Going to France didn’t mean that he couldn’t have Ginny…but it would tell him where he stood if she decided that she wanted to come. He closed his eyes as he, once again, worked through the confusing memories of the night before. It had been perfect- a run in the rain, a kiss…but then, just when his father arrived, Ginny had run away.
He didn’t understand. She had denied their relationship when her brothers were around too. It was as if she didn’t want anyone to know. And if no one ever knew…what kind of future did that fortell?
He wanted Ginny Weasley, but did she want him back?
His father was right. He needed to make a choice- but he wasn’t going to make it alone.
Leave a Review