"Draco..." Narcissa hesitated for a long time before finally speaking.
"Oh, Mother?" Draco was taken aback and blurted out instinctively.
Because of the suddenness of Narcissa's call to him, he did not use the tone of a young boy just then, but the tone of his seventeen-year-old self from his previous life.
Narcissa paused, her composure subtly disturbed for a second by the slightly formal address.
"Draco, you have grown up so much without me even realising it." She quickly composed herself, a slight smile playing on her lips.
She walked closer to her son and sat down opposite him. "You are no longer that little boy who begged me for bedtime stories and pestered me for sweets. You can read such thick books by yourself and brew such complex potions. And you are so good at Quidditch, are you not?
Last time, the wife of one of the Board of Governors was praising you to me at a tea party, saying that you always manage to catch the Snitch for your House."
Draco put down his book and smiled at his mother. He switched back to Narcissa's familiar way of addressing her, "Mum, why do you seem a little sad today? Are you in a bad mood?"
"It is nothing." For a moment, a tear welled up in Narcissa's blue eyes, then quickly disappeared.
It was a complex emotion belonging to a mother. She was both proud and disappointed, proud that her son was becoming more and more outstanding, but disappointed that she was becoming less and less needed by him each day.
She choked up a little. "I... I heard you were attacked by Dementors on the Quidditch pitch. You never mentioned it when you wrote home before."
Her boy, she did not know who he had learned this bad habit from, always reporting good news and never bad.
She had learned of the Dementor attack from the wife of a member of the Board of Governors at a tea party; Lucius had known about it earlier and kept it from her. But this did not mean her son was closer to Lucius, because Lucius had also heard the frightening news from other Board members.
"Mum, I am perfectly fine. Professor Dumbledore and the others stopped the Dementors," Draco said, trying to sound casual and soothe the worry on his mother's face with a smile... that was why he had chosen not to tell her; he did not want to cause her any worry.
She should be happier.
"Draco, I know you do not want your mother to worry, do you? But I do not want to be the last one to find out you are injured," Narcissa said softly, trying to smile at him.
"Some mothers at salons and parties sometimes boast about it. They talk to their children about everything. They seem to know everything that happens at Hogwarts, at least more than I do. I do not want to hear about your injury from other people while I am kept in the dark like a heartless mother."
"Mum..." Draco was somewhat stunned. He had not expected that Narcissa, in this life, would still be troubled by this matter.
In his past life, Draco had shared almost everything that happened at school with his mother. However, his mother had always seemed indifferent to his troubles... most of which concerned the Potter trio... offering only perfunctory replies without taking them to heart.
Narcissa's inner monologue in her past life: If someone keeps repeating the same complaint eight hundred times, about the Muggle-born girl, Scarhead, and snotty Weatherby every day, anyone would eventually get used to it, would they not? Narcissa's usual tactic in her past life: "Draco, after all this talking, are you not thirsty? Have a cup of hot cocoa. Mummy has her own tea party to attend tomorrow. Sweetheart, finish your drink and go to bed early. Stop complaining."
He had always thought that Narcissa was impatient to listen to such things. In his previous life, she had only shown great interest and a hint of pride when she heard that he had done well in his studies or received honours.
In this life, he would only tell her such things. As long as she was proud, happy, and content, that was enough.
However, Narcissa in this life was not satisfied with this.
"Draco, if you ever have any worries, you can talk to Mum about them, all right? Anything at all. Besides your friends in your House, your teammates on the Quidditch team, and how many Outstandings you got in your studies, do you not have anything else to say?
Have you ever argued with any friends? Have any older students ever given you a hard time? Have any professors ever been harsh with you? Is Quidditch training tough?
Are some courses dangerous? Is there a girl you have a crush on? Have you never thought of telling Mum about these things? Have you never felt troubled or confused?"
Narcissa said, her expression expectant. "Anything at all, just tell Mum a little bit every now and then, all right?"
Draco looked at his mother in surprise, thinking she might have kept a shrieking bird... one whose calls could drive a person mad... and had just heard it call.
Does she want her son to suffer? Why must she hear about his troubles?
Narcissa glanced at her son and continued, "The other ladies envy me for having such an outstanding child as you. They always ask me how I raise you, how I make you strive for excellence instead of being lazy and idle. I cannot answer that. I can only say that you are naturally hardworking.
They ask me how I deal with the problems, the arguments, the bullying, the harsh treatment, the dangers, and the troubles your child encounters. I cannot answer any of those either, because you have never complained to me, and I have not even had the chance to help you solve these problems..."
"Oh, Mum..." Draco said with a complicated expression.
He had asked these questions before, and his mother had helped him before. In his past life, his mother had given him a lot of advice, some right and some wrong.
He already knew all her answers to these questions, so he did not need to ask again, but she did not know that.
Narcissa looked him over carefully and tentatively said, "You do not have to tell Mum everything. I know your studies are becoming more and more demanding. Occasionally, just tell Mum one or two important things. You can tell Mum about any worries or difficulties you have, and let Mum give you some advice sometimes, all right?"
Her tone was even somewhat humble. Draco could hear the care his mother had for him. He felt a pang of emotion and could not help but sigh.
Could he use his mother's love for him to sway her and encourage her to oppose the Dark Lord?
No, she probably would not object even now. She would probably follow the Dark Lord... it would be more profitable for the family... just as she had in her previous life.
She might use her son's affection as a bargaining chip to secure a higher position for the family among the Death Eaters and the pure-blood wizarding community. She would sincerely instil in him worldly advice filled with pure-blood prejudice under the guise of "I am doing this for your own good," while continuing to treat him as an innocent child, protecting him firmly under her wing, and considering his ideas naive and foolish.
Unless absolutely necessary, his mother would never stand with non-pure-blood wizards. In her past life, she had never hidden her contempt for them, nor her fear of Dumbledore.
She was a pure-blood, as traditional, stubborn, and obsessive as her father.
She is a Malfoy who prioritises self-interest, making choices solely for the benefit of her family, regardless of right or wrong.
She was still a Black by birth, with madness coursing through her veins, and when she went mad, she would do anything.
Although Narcissa was looking at him with those gentle blue eyes, eyes full of genuine love for her son, Draco Malfoy knew that if he wanted to reliably protect those he cared about, he had to be reserved with his beloved mother.