Brilliant white feathers [Mother and Son]

[Draco Malfoy]

[Takes place; late August, 2005]

The grounds of Malfoy manor were, in Draco's opinion, best appreciated in the dawn hours. Or perhaps it was just he was beginning to favor that time because it always seemed he woke much too early. That, or he stayed up much too late. It was a hard thing to hide sometimes, what with the elves always buzzing about no doubt telling his parents everything. They thought it was in his best interest that they did just that. Of course Draco would have appreciated being given more privacy, but at least they didn't talk to him unless they had to. And they brought him things when he asked.

Currently Draco sat in a chair under the small structure meant to provide shade, and weather protection. Despite the early hour his hair had been groomed and clothes straightened to a T. He had a dark green colored mug, filled with white hot chocolate. Or rather... half full. He had been sipping the drink for a good few minutes by now. His feet were tucked up so he was sitting cross-legged on the chair, even though he'd been told before it wasn't proper. Let the elves ell his parents. So long as he didn't do it when company was around, or during special family meals and such, he saw no problem with it.

The sun was just beginning to come up, temperature warming. When he looked across the yard, Draco could see one of the white peacocks strutting about, it's feathers folded down, but he'd seen the creatures plenty before showing off their plumage. It seemed everything in the Malfoy's property was predominantly black, white, or green. Right down to the characteristic pale blonde hair and light skin the family seemed to have.

Draco let out a yawn, bringing his hand not holding the mug up to cover his mouth as he did. He blinked as he tried to ignore the growing headache he had and let both of his hands hold the cup. It must be strange to some for him to be drinking a warm drink in August, but he drank it like most drank coffee, preferring the white chocolate over the coffee bean. Besides, it was more decadent as well, sweet. Everyone drank coffee, but he had yet to meet someone like himself who enjoyed white hot chocolate in the mornings.

[Narcissa Malfoy]

It was, apparently, a shared family habit. Enjoying the earliest hours of the day. Narcissa had been an early riser for as long as she could remember, and not even the teenage years, when most converted to dreadful sleeping habits and late nights, had she really broken from her tendency to rise with the birds. Generally, she had to be extremely tired, flat-line exhausted, even, to sleep in, and even at Hogwarts when NEWT studies had taken up precious sleep time, she'd been more inclined to stay up the night rather than attempt to catch a dismal couple of hours sleep before the sun rose. Because regardless of how long she'd studied that night, she'd found it rather useless to sleep if she knew she wasn't going to get the proper amount of sleep, and usually wound up downright foul-tempered and tireder than ever if she did attempt to force herself into sleep.

Really, she thought as she absentmindedly tightened the shawl around her form, there were only two occasions she could remember when she'd still been abed past the dawn hour. The first time had been when Andromeda had betrayed them; she'd not wanted to see anyone, be near anyone, interact in any way; it had simply been easier to hide in the den of her four poster bed in her dormitory in those days than deal with the world. The second occasion had been...er, well, the morning after her wedding. And with Lucius' suddenly ardent and very persistent attempts to drag her laughing and squealing hysterically kicking and screaming back to bed, it was hardly her fault. Really, it was entirely not her fault. Though it was certainly harder than it had been before marriage to drag herself out of bed some days.

But that aside, she couldn't remember anything else that had had her miss the dawn. Not even Draco's birth had managed that; she'd birthed him in the night and promptly awoken the next morning with the sun rising and a tiny, white-blonde baby snuffling hungrily awake along with it.

A smile touched lips normally pursed firmly at both the memory and the sight before her as Narcissa crossed the yard for the small pagoda - apparently, her only child had had something of the same idea as his mother. Not for the first time, she felt a small thrill of pride for her son, though she had to wonder just how early he had been up for him to be immaculately pressed and clean before even his fussy mother was. This early in the morning, she hadn't even taken the time to fix her hair beyond putting a brush to the long, wavy locks, leaving them free to trickle down her back in a rumpled cascade turned white-gold in the early morning light. Even under warm shawl and robe, her feet were bare against the comforting chill of dew-damp grass, though many would be a fool to point such a thing out. Especially in her own home.

"Good morning, darling," she murmured, a warm touch to her voice reserved practically for only two people in the entire world, though especially for her son. Tucking a wayward lock behind her ear, Narcissa bent slightly to press a kiss of greeting to the top of Draco's head before making her way around the chair in which he sat to one of her own, close enough to touch but not so much as to smother one another. It was also the chair that caught the morning light best, and Narcissa leant into it for a moment, closing her eyes to enjoy the growing warmth before they opened again, dark blue to the grey-blue of her son's gaze. Grey-blue, and shadowed just slightly underneath his eyes. Something no real mother was able to ignore, though Narcissa had learnt long ago that like her, her son could be dreadfully stubborn and close-mouthed if pushed too forcefully.

"You are aware that sitting with your feet in such a way can, according to Healers, cause blood clots to develop in your legs? I'm sure we've had this conversation before, Draco." They very likely had, and in formal company, she might have genuinely scolded the boy for it. However, it was barely a half hour past dawn, and she certainly wasn't presented immaculately herself. It was more or less gentle teasing, and despite the slight purse of lips, it was given away as such by the subtle dance of amusement in Narcissa's normally cool blue eyes.

[Draco Malfoy]

Draco looked up when he heard his mom, smiling and closing his eyes as his mum kissed his head. One of the first things he noticed was her white blonde hair was down. It was always nice to see it free, something a little more expressive about it instead of the tightly pulled updo that was always present at formal gatherings. "Good morning," he said, his voice still quiet and a little scratchy because of the early hour of the day as he smiled at his mother, taking another sip.

He bit his lip when his mother mentioned the way he was sitting. He did know that they'd talked about it plenty, and as much as health risks could give him reasons to be concerned, he still failed to see the big deal of it. Draco did move his feet though, stretching a little more across the small chair so both of his feet were to one side and he was leaning on an arm of it.

"The peacocks are out almost as early as the two of us," he chuckled, motioning across the yard to the now three white birds gathered. "You suppose they know I'll be going back to school soon? Maybe that's why they've decided to make an appearance," he said, putting both hands around his cup again. Seeing his mother dressed so casually he realized that his own clothing was probably a little more than required for this hour. In hindsight he felt a little silly.

Draco pushed his hair back, thankful that some of the usual product he put in it had been left out for now. He quickly replaced his hand on the mug though. It was nice to have his mother join him. A surprise, but a pleasant one. He hadn't had as much time with him mother as he wanted that summer. Any time his father made an appearance the moment was spoiled. There was a difference between talking with his mother alone and talking to her around others were two completely different things.

[Narcissa Malfoy]

Narcissa was hard-pressed stifling her own chuckle at her son's rather droll observation. The snow-white plumage of the aforementioned birds - rather than blood purity these days glinted a becoming blend of white-silver and golden-grey in the early morning. Almost entirely and naturally part of the landscape, completely at their best, and the birds knew it too, if the way they fanned and preened and cooed their way about their current stretch of garden was anything to measure by.

Still, a quiet huff escaped the elder Malfoy despite the purse of her lips; her very own subtle - and yet very distinct - display of amusement, one that was recognisable enough to the very few close to her heart, in an otherwise collected countenance. But then, 'collected' was something of a fast and loose term in the current context - Draco had made note of her hair, and really, it was as if the situation of the very tresses themselves dictated how Narcissa Malfoy might behave at that particular moment in time. So often were the relcalcitrant waves tied and bound up, tightly controlled, elegant yet severe against the arrogant Black planes of her face - exactly the same in manner as the way their owner presented to the world.

But then, on occasion, on rare occasions and almost never in public, were they let free to touch those aristocratic features. To soften hard blue eyes wide, soft eyes, such a deceptive trait of the House of Black and tangle against pursed lips and cold pale shoulders. And it was then, and only then it seemed, that warmth, even, Merlin forbid, humour would prevail on the Mistress of Malfoy Manor's countenance. Or perhaps it was not that at all. Perhaps it was simply the company she kept at that very moment, and Narcissa's pale features softened into a slight smile, those lines not often present crinkling about her eyes as she reached over to pat Draco's hand fondly.

"They need only the slightest of excuses to show off," she commented. And though she indicated the peacocks, the wryness of her tone was unmistakeable, hinting subtly and yet pointedly at another member of their family - that was neither feathered nor with them at present - that only Narcissa herself would ever truly have the temerity to both confront and even tease in such a way. Many did not cross Lucius lightly, but his wife did so when she saw fit, and she clearly did so with no little impunity. But perhaps that was why - despite what others might think - their marriage lasted like it had and did.

"But I'm quite sure they'll miss you dreadfully when you return, sweetheart." As will the rest of us. Narcissa eyed her son's hot chocolate contemplatively (almost avaricely, amusingly enough) before turning her gaze out to the grounds again. Simply enjoying the view. She was not one prone to a great amount of chatter or nagging (lest it was her husband; he was harrassed relentlessly if she wished for something from him), and had long since learnt that if one wished to talk, it was best to let them do it at her own pace. Especially a teenager. Especially her son. They had indeed had too little time to truly sit and talk in the passing weeks, but she did not mind waiting a little longer until - and if - he chose to talk. Particularly about what was bothering for she was a mother, and mothers knew these things.

[Draco Malfoy]

It was funny how the middle of summer left him feeling almost fond of the idea of returning to Hogwarts, and then once the date to do so approached he quickly returned to hating it. When there was so much time it was tiring to try and think of ways to spend it. He'd let himself miss out on several thing that, in hindsight, would be perfect to brag about once he returned to the table full of Slytherins in the great hall.

"Like father," Draco commented a little quietly at his mothers comment about the birds' fondness of showing off. "Merlin. Don't tell him I said that," he said, putting his hand over his mouth to stifle a bit of a laugh. Of course, he'd learnt to take after his dad in that aspect, holding his head high with pride, not hiding his inherited traits, but rather hoping to draw attention to him. Though he'd only do so in front of people he knew had grown to expect that much from any Malfoy. Which, granted their widely know reputation, was nearly everyone.

He smiled when his mother said the creatures would miss him, the kind you'd have to be looking for to see. Draco knew that it wouldn't be simply the birds that would notice his absence, because despite the expectations of most pureblood families, on some level the Malfoys cared greatly for each other, not just out of necessity. Particularly the bond between mother and son was strong. Narcissa insisting that no one would replace her in the role of raising Draco. That was one thing Draco had come to appreciate most as he listened to the way some of his crowd were turning out, how the children looked up to their parents more for their accomplishments, similarly to how one might look up to a role model, instead of as a parent. He knew of pureblood parents who would hand their children over to die without a second thought if the Dark Lord asked.

Admittedly Draco wondered if that was what this might come to, these whispers of him returning. He didn't want to have to brand himself as one of his men, but to protect his parents (and mostly his mother) he might have no choice but to take on the dark mark. He knew his father had already done as much.