Rating: It's not now, but it'll be M, eventually.

Warnings: Slash. Profanity. OOC-ness. Future drug use.

Summary: Non-magic AU. Narcissa Malfoy knows her son. She knows that something needs to be done before he withdraws completely into himself, but when she interferes, she changes not only her sons, but another boys life as well... HPDM slash.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters in the series.


Mother Knows Best

Chapter One

Picture Perfect


Flying over the railing of a beautiful white balcony, a small, black butterfly landed on the filtered end of a lit cigarette that was resting in a crystal ashtray. In the background, the sky was a light shade of blue, littered with ciro-cumulus clouds, blocking out most of the suns bright rays that usually frequented this time of year. The scene made a slightly ironic picture, looked as if it represented something. The butterfly, signifying death with its black color, landing upon a coffin nail, as some would call it. It made a statement.

Click. Beep.

A camera flashes, quickly capturing the image before the butterfly decides to take off, the cigarette looking banal with its departure, but leaving a memory behind in the picture. A picture taken by something far more beautiful than the picture itself.

He was clothed in a long sleeved, white collared shirt, under a black, silver buttoned vest and matching black pants. Long, shiny, shampoo commercial-worthy white-blond hair framed his unblemished, porcelain-like face, falling just above his narrow chin, constantly being pushed behind his ears. Impossibly high cheekbones and gorgeous gray-blue, almost effeminate eyes made his features seem more delicate, elegant as all of his surroundings. His long, slender hand brought the cigarette up to full, nearly red lips, lazily inhaling the harmful mentholated smoke before bringing it back down to put out in the ashtray, only halfway finished and just in time.

A knock at his bedroom door causes him to stand, out of the somewhat uncomfortable painted steel chair. Walking through the sliding glass doors, he entered his imaculate bedroom, closing the doors, flipping the lock over, and pulling the thick white curtains closed behind him.

"Yes?" he calls, expecting his mother.

Instead, an elderly Malfoy household butler opened the door halfway, informing him that his mother was on her way up. In other words, the man was making sure he didn't get caught smoking the cigarettes that he had blackmailed the man into getting for him. Not that he smoked often, only on stressful occasions, which he was sure today would most definitely be.

He dismissed the old man with a flick of his wrist and flopped down on the small sofa by his door with little to no grace at all, one arm lazily resting atop the backrest, awaiting his mother. Sure enough, a couple minutes later she walked in, not bothering to knock, closing the door behind her.

"Are you sure that every things been packed, darling?" she questioned, surveying his clothes, making sure they weren't wrinkled. When answered with an affirmative, her eyes narrowed speculatively. "Have you checked?"

Draco sighed, shaking his head. "I told them what goes and what doesn't, Mother." She nodded, sitting down beside him, crossing her ankles and flipping her long hair over her shoulder like she was Miss America.

Many people have said that Draco is the spitting image of his father, Lucius, but those people have obviously never met his mother. Of course, he did inherit a portion of his fathers regal looks, but he leaned more toward his mothers side of the gene pool with the same petite body structure and stunningly beautiful facial features. His parents looked a lot alike, though, so it was hard to tell who he favored more.

Distant relatives would often joke about how Lucius and Narcissa looked as if they'd been seperated at birth they looked so much alike (which used to scare the hell out of him), but while Lucius' extremely long hair was almost white, Narcissa had a light golden-blonde color. In the right light, Draco's own hair could sometimes seem more blonde than white. And while his father had steel-gray eyes, his had some blue in them. Again, much like his mothers.

"Does that stay then, dear?" his mother asked. He was momentarily confused until his saw her gesturing toward his chest. He lowered his gaze to the camera hanging from his neck. "Oh. No, I rather keep it close by, just in case." She nodded understandingly.

"You know how much your father disapproves of this hobby of yours, darling. Just keep it out of sight until your at the academy, would you?"

Draco considered it for a moment, then nodded. He would already have to endure listening to his fathers before-school 'this is a very important year for you' lecture, he didn't want to hear the 'your wasting your time with that ridiculous hobby' lecture, too. He slipped slim camera into the inner pocket of his designer vest and sighed. What were the odds of seeing something worth taking a picture of on the long, boring ride to school, anyway?

"Something wrong?" Narcissa inquired, mildly concerned. She had noticed, of course, that her son had become more and more reclusive over the past year or so, but he seemed to be very depressed lately. She'd thought he'd be excited about this being his senor year at Hogwarts Academy, but so far, everytime the subject came up he seemed even more depressed.

Draco didnt speak for a while and when he did, it was thoughtful, hesitant and unsure.

"Have you ever felt... stuck? Like nothings ever going to change... and you're always going to feel like you're waiting for something to happen? Like the more you try to make people proud and... " he stopped, taking a deep breath. "I don't know how to describe it ..." he trailed off, shaking his head, crestfallen. He felt his mother take his hand and squeeze it softly.

"Draco, listen to me. When has your father ever been happy?" she asked bluntly, never one to beat around the bush.

Both of them already knowing the answer, she didn't give him a chance to speak. "You could spend your entire life, miserable, trying to be someone that you're not, trying to make him happy, make him proud of you and knowing that nothing may ever be enough, or you could live your life being who you are and making yourself happy," she said, smiling at him softly. After a moment her eyes took on a wicked glint. "And who knows, you might even find the," she cleared her throat pointedly, "Person that can make you ha-"

"Mother!" he interjected, glaring and fighting back a blush, knowing exactly what she meant by 'person'. Nobody but his mother knew about his sexual preference, and she loved to tease him about it. He mentally cursed her intuition, but secretly wished his father was as accepting as her and not such a homophobe. He never wanted to be gay, wouldn't be if he had any choice at all in the matter, but after so long of hating himself over not being able to change it, he decided that trying to ignore it was better than accepting it. It wasn't easy, however, with his mother constantly reminding him that there was something wrong with him.

After she stopped laughing at her sons embarressment, Narcissa spoke again, completely serious. "My point is that your at a very important age. The choices you make today will effect your future, whether you like it or not. This is a choice you have to make on your own. Now, I know you're almost an adult and I can't make your choices for you anymore, but I hope you make the right decision, darling." She pushed a lock of hair behind his ear. "Just remember not to be anyone but yourself," she finished, pulling him into a hug which he returned thankfully, like the momma's boy he sometimes despised himself for being.

"I'll miss you, Mother," he said, his head on her shoulder.

She laughed softly. "Whatever for? I'll be visiting every two months or so."

He pulled away completely and looked at her questioningly, brow furrowed. "What do you-" he began, but was interrupted by another knock at the door.

"Yes?" he called impatiently. The same butler from before opened the door, telling them that 'Master Malfoy' and the limousine his father requested were waiting for them at the entrance.

Narcissa was the first to stand, Draco following quickly, making their way to the first staircase.

"Mother, what did you mean when you said you'll be visiting every two months?" he questioned, matching his Mother's quick, confidant steps down the long staircase.

She sent a glare his way, not stopping in her stride. "Draco Lucius Malfoy, I told you this just last night! You didn't listen to a word I said, did you?" she scolded. "Mrs. Zabini is going to Dublin next month and asked me to keep an eye on her son while she's away."

"As in Blaise Zabini? Why would his mother ask you to do that?" he asked, forgetting his problems for the moment in the favor of getting more information. His mother usually only ever vistited his Academy about three to four times a school year.

"Well, if you were listening last night, you'd know," she said simply, proving how stubborn she could be and making Draco sigh dramatically.

"Mother, please. I had a lot of things on my mind at the moment."

She pretended to consider it, her lips started to twitch upwards at the almost-pout her son was giving her. "Fine. Mr. Zabini is taking away Blaise's private room at Hogwart's," she said, amused.

Draco raised an eyebrow, sharing in his mother's amusment and not at all sympathetic to his schoolmate. "Is he, now. Do you know why?"

"Oh, yes. And from what I hear, Blaise totaled his fourth BMW at the beginning of summer. Mr. Zabini thought his son was getting to be spoiled and unappreciative." Draco laughed.

"So, where's he staying?" he questioned, interested.

"The dorms."

Draco gave her a surprised look. "Seriously? Poor guy."

Narcissa stared at him from the corner of her eyes for moment, as if considering something, before saying, "I think it'll be good for him."

Draco grimaced. "Ugh. Staying in a room with five other people is hardly fair, Mother," he said, now truly feeling sorry for the unfortunate Zabini boy.

His mother ignored him. "It'll give him a chance to make new friends, don't you think?

"Zabini has no trouble making friends, Mother," he commented, then shuddered, remembering one incident in particular where he went to class early and walked in on what looked like Zabini and some girl trying to climb each other.

"Is that jealousy I hear?" she laughed, while wondering if it would be at all possible to install an elevator in the manor.

Draco scoffed. "Of course not. His friends only like him because they want to get in good with his parents," he drawled.

"And yours don't?" Narcissa quipped.

Draco glared straight ahead, but said nothing. Why did his mother have to be right about everything? No matter how much he would like to believe otherwise, he knew that the people who called themselves his friends and followed him around like he was the fucking teenage Messiah only did so because his parents were important people.

Lucius Malfoy was one of the most influential lobbyist in the country. Normally, a lobbyist is someone who's job it is to persuade legislator's to vote for bill's that the lobbyist favor. That's it. His father, however, often accepted bribes and blackmailed companies that possessed a great amount of money and power. When he accepts bribes from companies that have reason to think that if a certain bill is passed, then a portion of their money would be lost or their jobs would go bye-bye. And then, only after giving him what he wanted or a very generous amount of money, Lucius would have the task of convincing the legislators whatever he wanted them to. He succeeded more often then not.

Blackmailing was alot easier, though, because he was the one going to them. Lucius would chose a company that he knew he could destroy with a simple speach and basically tell them that he'll ruthlessly do so if they dont give him what he wants. The company would then be faced with the decision of giving in and losing a lot and or refusing and losing everything, including their integrity.

Guess which one they chose.

Lucius was a very persuasive man. Everyone, except for his wife, knows that he wasn't one to be argued with. If he could prove somebody wrong, then he's automatically right. He could easily twist someones words around so much that they would be arguing with themselves in no time at all. He could convince people that day was night if he got paid enough for it.

Draco's mother was a completely different story, however. A major difference is the fact that she, unlike her husband, had morals. Another difference is that instead of selling lies, she sold clothes.

Narcissa Malfoy was a couturier. Before she married Draco's Father, Narcissa Black was the entrepreneur of Black clothing and accessories. Having been brought up in a wealthy family and having a passion for design, she had no problem whatsoever rising to the top of the fashion food chain worldwide. She no longer has to come up with the designs, however, but any and all important decisions are made by her. Ever wonder who brought back bell-bottoms?

This was the reason why Draco had so many followers. What girl wouldn't want to date a boy who could get designer clothes before they go on sale and front row seats to any fashion show in the country? What boy wouldn't want to be friends with the son of someone who had as much sway as Lucius Malfoy?

"Stand up straight, darling, don't slouch," Narcissa chided, seeing Lucius standing at the entrance gate as they approached.

Draco did as he was told, holding his head high, straightening his spine and bringing himself to his full height, going into what his mother liked to call 'perfect-son mode'. His father didn't even spare him a glance as they entered the vehicle, too busy arguing over his cellphone with whoever was on the other end.

Looking out the window at the passing scenery, he remembered the first time he took this long trip to school. He was thirteen, and they'd just returned from a two year stay in Manchester. He was excited, having been privately tutored until that point, and he had never really been around many children his age growing up. Lucius lectured him the entire ride there about what it means to be a Malfoy. How to speak, how to act, even how to eat. Nothing his Father told him, however, had prepared him for his first year at Hogwarts.

Hogwarts Academy was nothing he expected it to be. He thought it was only for children with money, but a lot of the students got in on grades alone. Most of the wealthier children knew who he was immediately, their parents having told them who his parents were and how important it was not to get on his bad side. A lot of the other first years looked up to him. He was incredibly shy at first, unsure of his new surroundings and independance, something he would never admit to out loud now, but the attention went to his head in no time. They laughed at his every joke, every dirty prank he did to entertain them, even though they were being made at other peoples expense. They practically worshiped the ground he walked on and he thrived on it.

When some of the other children found out who he was, they detested him. They thought his father was an malevolent, power-hungry, evil man. While that statement wasn't completely untrue, his father was his hero. And even if he wasn't, Draco didn't think it fair that they were judging him on who his father was. Hypocritical of him, yes, since he loved it when they were thinking highly of him because of his father, but... he was young.

After a while though, he started to see how fake his 'friends' smiles were. How they only laughed when he did, or when they thought they were suppose to, and how all conversation would halt when he entered the room. How the students that first kept their distance and looked at him like they were waiting to see if he was like his father, like they were carefully evaluating his character and waiting to be proved wrong, started to see him as if he was his father and openly glared at him in the hallways. He started to realise how many people hated him and how many pretended not to. It was another thing Draco hated himself for, allowing himself to be so blinded by the limelight that he couldn't see it all before, but he knew this year would be no different than the previous four.


"Yes, Father?" he questioned respectfully. Lucius observed him for a moment with narrowed, cold gray eyes before turning them turned toward his mother.

"Are you trying to turn our son into a mannequin for your designs?" he drawled, obviously noticing the brand of clothing his son was wearing. Draco rolled his eyes discreetly.

"Of course not, dear. He could never stay still for that long. You, however..." she trailed off, looking pointedly to the cane that she had designed herself, making Draco hold back a smirk. To this day, Draco could never understand why his father carried the thing around with him. He knew his father didn't have any injuries. He remembered it had something to do with appearances.

Lucius' eyes narrowed even further, determined to ignore the jibe. "You're making him a walking advertisement, Narcissa."

"Do you think I forced him into that outfit with a gun to his head?" she asked, eyebrows raised. "I think he looks fabulous," she said, flashing a proud smile to Draco, who merely raised a brow. His mother truly amazed him sometimes. She must be the only person on the planet who could win an argument with Lucius Malfoy in less than two minutes.

Lucius glared at the word 'fabulous', but dropped the subject regardless. He turned to Draco and began his before-school lecture. Draco got as far as "This is a very important year, Draco. I don't want you ..." before he tuned him out, making sure to nod in the appropriate places.

The rest of the ride was dreadfully boring and Draco had to pinch himself several times during the end of his Father's speech to keep himself from nodding off. Once they arrived, he saw the groundskeeper, Hagrid, or as Draco referred to him, the giant oaf, opening the large, black gate to allow them entrance.

Draco had spread a great deal of rumors about the man. He didn't have anything against him personally, but the man scared him shitless. Draco was the size of one of the mans legs, for goodness sake. Well, maybe that was a little dramatic, but still, Hagrid was huge and it was enough to intimidate Draco into disliking him.

"I can't believe that barbarian is still working here. I thought they would've fired the moron by now," his father snarled, looking at the man like he was the dirt on the bottom of his precious cane. Draco wondered for a moment if his father was scared of him, too, but then passed the thought off as ridiculous. He thought he saw his mother roll her eyes at Lucius' comment, though.

When they exited the limousine, Hagrid was crossing the excessively huge, almost empty parking lot, most likely to bring in Draco's luggage. An objection of that man touching aything belonging to him was on the tip of Draco's tongue, but after deciding it was pointless, he looked up to survey the school.

Hogwarts Academy was separated into four buildings. The two story entrance, dorm, and private buildings, and the three story main building. The entrance building was the smallest, standing in the middle of the private and dorm buildings.

The first floor of the private building was for the students individual rooms, who have to pay extra, of course. The second floor was for guests and the teachers who stay year-round. The dorm building was the same size as the private edifice, but both floors are for the student dorm rooms. The first floor was for the boy's, second for girls.

The main building was in the back and bigger than all three front buildings put together. The first floor had the main hall/cafeteria, kitchens, storage, laundry, gymnasium, weight room and much more having to deal with the staff. The library was on the second floor along with classrooms and professors offices, he same going for the third floor.

Draco's mother had attended when she was a girl and had made the decision of sending him here. His father didn't approve much, mostly because he thought the Headmaster was a senile old coot, but ended up giving in to his wifes wishes in the end. Sometimes Draco thinks his mother should've been the lobbyist.

Draco followed his parents into the entrance building, across the large lobby that already had a few families saying fairwell to their children, meeting with Professor McGonagall at the bottom of the winding staircase that led to the Headmasters office. Not a word spoken, she checked 'Malfoy' off of her clipboard and gestured them upstairs, knowing they would want to speak with the Headmaster. They did so, Narcissa knocking politely before pushing the door open.

The Headmaster's office was odd. He had strange antiques and furniture everywhere. Everytime Draco went in here he felt like he was in a museum. The Headmaster himself was even stranger, though.

At the moment, Dumbledore was standing in front of his desk, a broad smile on his old, bearded face.

"Narcissa, my dear, you're as beautiful as ever," he declared warmly, as always. Narcissa laughed and gave him a quick, friendly hug.

"So good to see you, Albus. How are you?" she asked, smiling beautifully.

After greeting Lucius and Draco and offering a lemon drop, which was refused, he took his seat behind his desk. Lucius stayed standing as he always did. Draco sat down in the chair next to his Mother, next to the wide window that took up almost the entire wall, which had a fantastic view of the front grounds and large, almost empty parking lot.

He listened to his father complain for about ten minutes, before he drifted out of the conversation, bored. He was surprised, however, when Dumbledore offered his parent's a glass of champagne, which his mother accepted gratefully, his father scoffed at, and Dumbledore himself had none of. He knew his father was getting irritated at how their 'meeting' was going so far and Lucius must have known that it would be awhile because he took the seat next to his wife as soon as her glass was refilled.

Draco's gaze shifted toward the window as the conversation drifted from his class schedule, and he was surprised at what he saw.

Two men were laughing and hugging each other in the parking lot. A man and a teenager, actually. He figured that the teenager was a student, but what kind of teenager hugs his father like that in public? His eyes widened when the older of the two kissed the teenagers forehead. They seemed... close.

The older man had long black hair that was tied back into a low ponytail. He wore a black leather jacket, which Draco thought was very inappropriate for spring, dark blue jeans and steel-toed boots.

The teen had the same, raven black hair, except his was rather wild, longer in the front than the back. It sort of suited him, which was strange because Draco usually hated anything messy. He was wearing too baggy jeans that had chains on them, Draco was sure they were made that way because they hung from his hips perfectly, exposing just a bit of the waistline of his black boxers, and a black V-neck T-shirt that was one size too small. Draco squinted, unconsciously licking his lips and moving closer to the window. The boy had what looked like dark, thick string wrapped around his neck several times. He had a healthy tan, a strong jaw and high cheekbones. He wore a very charming smile. Draco couldn't really tell from so high up, but he looked almost as tall as his... father?

Draco had met a lot of people in his life, but he'd never seen someone so unusual, so different before. The way he looked, the way he laughed, the way he walked, something about this boy had him curious. His fingers were practically itching for the camera in his pocket.

He jumped slightly when his mother tapped his shoulder to get his attention, making Narcissa wonder what could be so fasinating about the parking lot. She looked out the window and, still in a daze, Draco did as well, and they watched as the teenager hopped up on a motorcycle Draco hadn't even noticed before, pressed the accelerator a bit, grinning, before taking off at a high speed, with no helmet, around the parking lot, making the older man laugh.

When Narcissa saw what had distracted her son so much, she brought a hand to her mouth, muffling a giggle, earning an odd look from her husband, who was arguing with an unyielding Dumbledore, and making Draco flush crimson in embaressment when he looked back at her. She couldn't help it, she had no idea her son would be attracted to that type of person. They looked like polar opposites. She couldn't deny that he was a very handsome boy, however. Though she thought he could use a comb. And a tailor.

The man that was with him, though, she was sure she knew him. She took a second look.

"Lucius, dear, that's my cousin, is it not?" she questioned, interrupting whatever he was in the middle of saying.

She heard Draco's quick intake of breath and turned. She couldn't hold back a laugh when she saw Draco's eyes widened in horror and his face go from red to white as a sheet. She knew exactly what he thought.

Lucius glared at her still laughing form, then down at the full champagne glass in her hand. "How many of those have you had?" he asked snidely, taking the glass from her and setting it down on the Headmaster's desk.

Narcissa ignored him. "Albus, who is that man outside?" she asked, gesturing toward the window. Dumbledore and Lucius stood, trying to get a better look. Everyone was looking out the window, now. Except for Draco, who was staring straight ahead, not blinking and looking paler by the second.

"Ah. Sirius Black," Dumbledore answered easily, beaming. Draco closed his eyes at hearing the last name, feeling nauseous.

"That man had a son?" Lucius scoffed, sitting back down. He never liked his wife's family.

"No, he doesn't. Plus, the last I heard, he was gay," Narcissa told him. Draco's eyes were wide open again, now thinking the two of them were a couple.

"That would be Harry Potter, Sirius's godson," Dumbledore cleared up, no longer looking at the window, but watching as Draco sighed in relief, slumping back into his chair, making his eyes twinkle behind his glasses.

Narcissa, too, noticed his reaction and turned to her husband. "Lucius, dear, why don't you and Draco make a quick visit to Severus. I need to speak with Albus about the Zabini's," she lied. Lucius agreed, wanting nothing more than to leave.

Narcissa didn't miss the quick look Draco shot at the raven haired boy outside before departing with his Father.

When the door shut behind them, Narcissa smirked at her former Headmaster. "Albus, I believe I need a favor," she said, picking up the abandoned champagne glass.

Dumbledore smiled.


Authors Note: I know shit about lobbyist, boarding schools, or fashion designers. Do me a favor, people. Review and tell me if it's obvious or not. This is my first story, so go easy on me.