A small lamp glowed softly on the window ledge, illuminating the view outside with it's soft, warm light. Draco Malfoy stood silently by the icy window, observing the snow falling heavily, with a blank expression. He was not the immature, jealous young boy that he used to be. The war could change a person, and it had changed Draco significantly, molding his arrogant personality into a more relaxed, tolerable one. Absent-mindedly, he traced the windowpane tentatively with his middle finger, wondering what it would be like to trace it through the fallen snow. He enjoyed looking at the snow because he found it's pristine, untouched appearance appealing, but he rarely ever ventured out in it.
"Draco?" a smooth voice sounding his name caused Draco to spin around, with grace that only a Malfoy could possess. His Father stood behind him, clad in formal, black robes with his usual blank expression intact. However, the same could not be said for his Mother, whose pain filled sobs echoed throughout the Manor. "How did it go?" Draco enquired, watching as his Father glided over to his whisky cabinet, expensive shoes clacking on the shiny, tiled floor.
"Well none of the Black family showed up, only acquaintances, your Mother could not keep a hold on her emotions, crying every two minutes, pathetic really" Lucius drawled, pouring himself a generous amount of fire whisky and downing it in two gulps. Draco narrowed his grayish eyes at his Father, folding his arms over his chest in a haughty manner.
"How can you say that about Mother? She's grieving" Draco said, not being able to suppress the shock evident in his usually cold tone. Lucius snorted at Draco's words, a disgusted expression clinging onto his aristocratic features.
"What a ridiculous thing to say, she is not 'grieving', as you so eloquently put it, she is merely feeling sorry for herself, she will get over it soon enough" Lucius stated, without a hint of sympathy for his wife. Draco stared at his Father, who was steadily downing fire whisky in an irritatingly casual manner, in a mixture of disgust and disbelief.
"Well…it's good to know your so concerned about the woman that has stood by you for all of your married life, and supported you on every stupid decision you have decided to make, I'm going to see how she is but I understand if you have better things to do, like slowly drinking yourself to death" Draco hissed, not bothering to keep the disgust and fury out of his voice. However, it had no effect on his Father, who merely sneered at Draco, and began preparing yet another alcoholic beverage.
Draco strode briskly through the hallways of the manor, the soles of his shoes tapping against the marbled floor. Knocking on the door that led to his parent's bedroom, he rubbed his head as he waited for a response, a burning ache forming inside his skull. A few silent minutes passed, and then the door creaked cautiously open, revealing the pale form of his Mother. "Draco" she murmured, sniffing slightly "I know you mean well, darling, but I don't want you to see me this way" she said, blinking through tear spiked eyelashes.
"Please Mother, you know I'm not like Father, I don't mind if your upset, in fact, I would think it strange if you were not upset" Draco explained, his tone laced with understanding and comfort. Narcissa did not speak, but after a few moments of mulling over Draco's words, she nodded in agreement and opened the door obligingly. She looked like a shadow of her former self; tears trailed unattractively down her face, her brown eyes bloodshot. Gone was the red lipstick and exquisite jewelry, and although Narcissa was fairly pretty no matter what she wore, she looked almost bare without her fine adornments.
Draco observed his Mother as she dragged herself to the bed and sunk down onto the silken sheets, raking her hands through her unbrushed locks of hair. The bed was an ornate, four-poster furnishing, draped in fine silks and crushed velvets. It was lavish and beautiful, and quite frankly, his now unpolished Mother looked out of place seated on it. Gathering his courage, Draco crossed over to the bed in a few strides, and seated himself in an almost shy manner beside his Mother. Inhaling her familiar scent, he knew that she would always be the same good-hearted, understanding Mother that had raised him, and appearances could never and would never change that simple, heartwarming fact.
Snaking an arm around her narrow shoulders, Draco rested his cheek against hers, both of them comfortable despite the wetness of her face and her hitched sobs. "I'm sorry Mother, but I don't know what to say to comfort you, I'm not good at that type of thing," he admitted, mentally cursing himself at the stupidity of this confession. Narcissa leant back and smiled at her son, her first real smile in many months. "It's ok, Draco" she said truthfully, gripping his hand tightly "just you being here, understanding me, not growing impatient or angry, is comfort enough".
"You should receive understanding from every member of this household, everyday you have to hide underneath an unaffected mask, emotionless and perfect like some sort of porcelain doll, it shouldn't have to be like that" Draco said, not being able to bottle up hid frustration any longer.
"No it shouldn't" Narcissa agreed, they did not speak again, just sat in an understanding silence, fresh tears dripped from Narcissa's face, glistening on her cheeks like fragments of a diamond, but this time they were tears cried for a different reason.