Soul Mate - Chapter 22:
The visit to Malfoy Manor was not at all what Harry had imagined.
Lucius, surprisingly, was polite aloof but not icy, measured but not hostile.
Narcissa, on the other hand, was warmth wrapped in silk,
her graceful poise somehow made the vast marble halls feel homely.
All in all, the day was going far better than Harry expected.
He was in the middle of recounting to Narcissa how he and
Draco had once been completely unable to Apparate.
The Ministry had eventually sent in a whole team to investigate,
only to discover that the cause was the Merlin Medals they both wore.
The medals weren’t just Portkeys they also carried a built-in anti-Apparition ward.
Of course, that wasn’t the worst part. The worst part had been the
Ministry curse-breakers circling around him like vultures over a rare magical artifact.
For a moment, Harry honestly thought he’d become some rare potion ingredient
about to be handed over to Professor Snape for grinding.
Narcissa laughed softly, eyes glimmering as she listened.
Draco would never tell stories like this, she thought fondly.
When he came home that day, he had explained the situation in exactly three sentences and
gone straight upstairs. Having a son so mature and composed was lovely,
yes but it did make for a dull household.
“Mother, Harry.” Draco stood by the door, looking faintly exasperated.
He wasn’t sure what expression to wear while watching his mother and Harry chatting like old
friends. “Lunch is ready. Father’s waiting in the dining room.”
“Come, Harry.” Narcissa rose gracefully, taking his hand.
“You must try our house-elf’s cooking. I dare say it’s as good as what you get at the
Black house but truthfully, I rather miss Kreacher’s recipes.”
Harry blinked. He had almost forgotten Narcissa was Sirius’s cousin.
“Aunt Narcissa, were you and my godfather… close?”
Her smile faded into a sigh. “Once, yes. We were quite close when we were young.
But after he was Sorted into Gryffindor, the family turned its back on him.
Later, they erased his name from the family tree altogether.
The Blacks have always had a streak of obsession and madness in their
bl00d my sister was like that, and so was Sirius, in his own way.”
Harry knew she meant Bellatrix and felt his stomach twist,
but it didn’t make him like Narcissa any less.
“So… Aunt Narcissa, shouldn’t the Black family name have been passed down to you?”
“No,” she said gently. “A daughter who marries out of the family loses her claim to inheritance.
The heir, by bl00d, is Draco.”
Harry turned to stare at Draco.
“Wait. Then doesn’t that mean I—”
“Stop looking like that, Potter.” Draco pinched the bridge of his nose.
“You do realize you also carry Black bl00d, don’t you?
One-quarter, from your grandmother.”
Harry froze. “What?”
Narcissa nodded. Your paternal grandmother was a Black.
That means you have a legal claim to the inheritance as well.
And since Sirius named you as his heir in his will, you’re the rightful successor of the Black estate.
She smiled faintly. All the old pureblood families are connected one way or another.
Even the Malfoys and the Potters were linked by marriage though that
would be about two hundred and fifty years ago.
Harry thought of the sprawling family tree etched on the wall of the old Black residence and
felt his head spin. These tangled lines of ancestry were dizzying.
If he kept tracing them back, he’d probably find himself related to Merlin.
Their conversation carried easily as they entered the grand dining room,
its chandeliers glittering like captured stars. Harry, once again, couldn’t help admiring the Malfoys’
impossible balance of opulence and taste. He took the seat beside Draco as instructed.
Lucius still occupied the head of the table, with Narcissa on his left and the boys on his right.
Technically, as the guest, Harry should have been seated opposite Lucius,
but given his nervesand his habit of turning to Draco for translation of pureblood etiquette
it had been deemed better this way.
Narcissa cut a delicate piece of steak and said lightly,
“Lucius, we were just discussing the matter of the Black inheritance.
There are hardly any male heirs left, apart from distant cousins.”
Lucius frowned, the way a man does when considering an accounting ledger.
“When Potter marries, he can simply have his first son bear the name of Black.
It’s the most straightforward method.”
Harry barely resisted rolling his eyes. Lucius managed to sound arrogant even when offering
advice. “So, uh, Uncle Lucius—this kind of inheritance switch is normal among purebloods?”
“Quite,” said Lucius coolly. “If you wish to honor your godfather, you’d best find yourself a wife
soon and produce an heir.” He paused, as though pained to continue, then added reluctantly,
“The Weasleys, for instance however distasteful their reputation they are, at least, pureblood.”
Harry choked on his pumpkin juice. Discussing his potential marriage
with Lucius Malfoy was not on his life’s bingo card. Desperate for a diversion,
he turned to Draco. “Let’s not talk about me. What about Draco?
Any lucky girl on the horizon?”
Narcissa’s lips curved in a knowing smile. “Draco will likely be engaged soon.”
Harry’s mind immediately supplied a name. “Astoria Greengrass?”
Draco set down his cutlery and gave him a sharp look. “How did you know?”
Neither the Malfoys nor the Greengrasses had made the engagement public yet.
Harry grinned. “Saw you two once at the Three Broomsticks back at Hogwarts.
I guessed she might be the one. Looks like I was right.
She’s lovely, by the way congratulations.”
So he had seen them that day, Draco realized. He’d thought no one had noticed.
He took a sip of wine, then deftly steered the conversation away.
“Seems congratulations are in order for more than one of us.
The redhead Weasley and Granger? I hear they’re finally tying the knot.”
Harry chuckled. “Hermione says she’s still thinking about it.
Personally, I think she just enjoys making Ron propose over and over again.”
“Women and their mysteries,” Draco muttered, earning a pointed glare from his mother.
He straightened and changed the subject again.
“How about a Quidditch match after lunch?”
Harry’s eyes lit up instantly. “We can play here? You’ve got a Quidditch pitch?”
Draco smirked. “Harry, this is Malfoy Manor. What do you think?”
And for the first time that day, the two boys laughed together no longer Gryffindor and Slytherin,
just two young wizards who still loved flying.