Too bad you didn't love your son enough to side with him against your husband, thought Harry. You renounced and repudiated him, just as much as Lucius did. You let him be emancipated, and never said a word in his defence . . .
But objecting to the emancipation would have kept Draco more firmly in Lucius' sphere of influence, Harry remembered. Maybe Narcissa had been doing what she thought best. She'd certainly tried to look out for Draco's financial future, even if her twisted idea of how to do that had been to start killing off her own relatives . . .
By then, the Malfoys had passed them by. Harry turned a bit to see how his brother was doing, and was shocked to see Draco blinking quickly, his features stiff like he was putting a lot of effort into controlling his expression. Snape's hand was on his shoulder, squeezing slightly before it retreated back into his formal black robes.
Draco dragged in a harsh breath, and kept his gaze centred on the scene unfolding at the front.
Narcissa and her husband were standing to one side of the headmaster, both of them so close to the statue that they could have touched it if they'd merely stretched out an arm. Harry felt a chill shiver straight through him. He had to remind himself that the statue was really a dead body made over into marble. Otherwise, he'd think that the flesh and blood man standing there really was Lucius.
And he couldn't bear to watch the real Lucius Malfoy receive this honour. He really couldn't.
Dumbledore was speaking from prepared notes that floated in the air before him, rearranging themselves as the speech continued. Harry tried not to listen to most of it, though Draco seemed nothing short of rapt. Harry couldn't tell if he was listening, or merely staring at his mother. Occasional phrases broke through Harry's concentration. long record of service to the school . . . improvements to the Quidditch grounds . . . new brooms for the Slytherin team . . . and the one that made Harry actually grit his teeth: meticulous attention to detail when a dangerous hippogriff endangered the life of a student at this school . . .
Finally, the speech was over and the headmaster gestured grandly at the circle of green ribbon that loosely encircled the marble pedestal of the statue.
Remus stepped forward, pulling the wand from his cane as though he'd been doing it for years. Harry was impressed at how much like Lucius it made him seem. "Cortus," said Remus, his voice perfectly matching Lucius' sneering, superior tones.
One tap of his wand, and the ribbon split cleanly in half and fluttered to the grass below.
Thinking the ceremony was over, Harry started to turn away, but he'd reckoned without one final gesture on Dumbledore's part. Or maybe his father's.
As the ribbon settled onto the grass, flowers began to sprout and bloom, starting at the base of the pedestal and then radiating outward for at least twenty feet. Purple, yellow, and white, their broad petals formed a carpet all around. By the time they stopped blooming, Lucius, Narcissa, and Dumbledore were standing amidst them.
Seeing his questioning look, Severus quietly murmured, "Pansies."
Pansies.
Harry nodded his understanding. It was an indictment. A private one, but powerful, all the same. Only a few people knew the truth, but those few would always remember this. Lucius Malfoy, condemned forever to stand beneath the Owlery, owl pellets raining down upon his head, surrounded by reminders of the girl he'd helped kill. No matter that Pansy herself hadn't been innocent of evil intentions. She hadn't been Lucius' to judge.
As Lucius wasn't yours to judge, Harry thought, remembering his father's lectures back at Christmas. But Harry hadn't been jury, judge, and executioner, had he? He'd just been defending himself.
The itchy feeling in his arms began to fade away, then.
The oohs and ahs were dying off too, and the crowd was beginning to disperse. Draco, however, seemed rooted to the spot. And no wonder. Lucius and the headmaster were talking to the press. Harry was pleased to note that Rita Skeeter was giving them wide berth and looked positively rattled whenever she glanced in the direction of the Hogwarts Potion Master.
Just as he was about to comment to his father, he noticed Narcissa Malfoy was walking toward them, her lips curling upwards in what Harry could only think was a genuine smile.
She was either the best actress the world had ever seen, or she was truly happy to see her son.
Harry tried to move away, but Snape shook his head every so slightly. Stay, his dark eyes clearly said.
"Dragon my treasure," said Narcissa, her voice throaty and warm. "Oh, my precious Dragon. I've missed you so much this year." Stepping close enough to touch him, she reached down and folded both his hands into her own. Her smile widened, the expression seeming to light up her whole face. It was like the suddenly emerged from behind cloud cover, she became so radiant. Harry saw it then, what Draco had been going on about before. Narcissa Malfoy might be dark and ugly inside, but on the outside, she truly was a beautiful woman.
"Mother," said Draco, his own voice sounding both pained and dead. Harry couldn't even imagine what this must be like for him. He loved his mother, no doubt about that, but she'd sided with Lucius against him. He probably loved and hated her both.
"You are well?" she asked, her gaze looking him up and down. "You are happy, Draco?"
Draco seemed to relax then, but only fractionally. "Yes. Very."
Narcissa glanced back then, to where her husband was still talking with Dumbledore. And then, she turned and held Snape's gaze. Very quietly, her voice barely audible, she murmured, "I thank you, then, Severus. I knew that I could trust you with my treasure."
"Narcissa," said Severus, the word pitched low. Harry expected him to say more, but he didn't expand on the acknowledgment.
"I regret what happened to the bequest from Walpurgis Black," Narcissa said, her hands caressing Draco's, her whisper so soft it seemed the breeze might blow it away. "I tried my best for you, my Dragon. I would give you my own fortune, if I could. But your father suspected as much, and he took steps--"
"Severus is my father," said Draco quietly, squeezing her hands as if to make her believe it. "And I'm all right, Mother. Truly. I have Sirius Black's fortune, now. And a family I can trust to stand by me even if I disappoint them."
Narcissa gasped, her small pink mouth parting. Harry didn't know if she was startled to hear her cousin's name, or if she'd caught the criticism in Draco's remark. He never got to find out, either. At that moment Remus strode up to join them, his visage hard as he took in Narcissa's hands clasped in Draco's.
Narcissa was the one who looked almost turned to stone, then. She stepped back, clearly wary of her husband's reaction to finding her with Draco. Harry thought Remus would turn and lead her away, then. Instead, the man's silver gaze bored into Draco, who stared back, his chin raised, his eyes defiant. "Yes, Mr Malfoy? Was there something you wanted?"
Remus curled a lip. "Is that any way to speak to me?"
"I can arrange to not speak to you at all, if it bothers you."
Remus' eyes narrowed. "So much anger, Draco. Your mother's been trying to convince me I was too hard on you this year. She seems to think a gentler approach might have alienated you less."
"Trying to kill me didn't bring us closer, no," sneered Draco. "Did you think it would?"
Several students still straggling away began to slow their steps even further, but a fierce glare from Snape sent them scurrying down the path leading back to the castle.
"I wasn't trying to kill you, you stupid boy," said Lucius, his lips twisting as he glared at Snape and Harry both. "You need to stop listening to half-bloods and traitors, Draco. I only ever wanted you to stop and think about the danger you were courting."