“Ouch!” he cried indignantly, tossing the bracelet onto the desktop. “Mother–”
“A blood clasp, so that only you or someone of your blood could remove it.”
He wanted to protest the indignity and injustice of it all – why had she gone to such lengths to ensure his loyalty to his flesh and blood? – but he was distracted by the whirlwind of feelings that assaulted him as soon as the bracelet left his skin. It felt as if a hoard of cobwebs were suddenly cleared from his mind. He could feel his magic spreading, responding, stretching…
“What is this?” He said, and nearly jumped in surprise at the sound of his voice. Instead of the cultured, crisp tones he had cultivated and practiced to achieve (like Lucius), his voice had deepened slightly to a medium baritone. The accents and inflections were different too, although he couldn’t’t quite put his finger on the nagging vague familiarity.
“The memories, Draco.” Narcissa prompted.
“Fine. Let’s get this over with.” He grumbled, touching the silvery surface swirling inside the Pensieve with a finger, as she did the same. They landed in a scene,
“This is one of many conversations that Lily and I had, leading up to your conception.” She said. “Keep an open mind, my son, and watch and listen.”
“Lilian Potter! Are you mad? I can’t just – use – your husband, like he’s some kind of stud horse!” Memory Narcissa hissed, glancing around the fancy restaurant in shock and horror.
Draco did a double take at the familiar surname, as the redhead threw her head back and laughed, the sound full and joyful. “Relax. I double layered the Muggle repelling and shielding charms. No one will overhear – or even notice us here.”
That was true, Draco thought, observing his surroundings with interest. The two women were seated outside at a little bistro cafe, on what seemed to be a Muggle university campus. People wandered by, chatting and laughing and completely oblivious to the beautiful redhead and blonde calmly sipping their drinks, which made no sense. Though, they did seem to fit in rather well, dressed as they were in stylish Muggle clothing. Well, stylish for the times, he thought with a glimmer of amusement. His mother looked young and vibrant, her face free of the faint shadows and worry lines, her hair up in a high ponytail that accented her sharp cheekbones, her skin nearly translucent in the sunlight, which contrasted with the deep red lipstick that was still her trademark.
Where Narcissa was like a marble statue come to life, almost too perfect and sharp to be real, unapproachable in both demeanor and appearance, Lily Potter was like fire, vibrant and glowing. Her long, deep red hair cascaded past her shoulders, and her green eyes, so much like her son’s, sparkled with humor and life. Together, the women made a stunning pair. They should have had blokes lining up, ten deep to talk to them, but no one approached, or even glanced twice.
Lily tipped her head back to the sun, eyes closed in bliss as the warmth hit her face. “And why can’t you use James? It was his idea, Selina!”
“Because!” The blonde sputtered. “Really, Lillian – it’s just not done. I will find another solution. Don’t concern yourself over it. I never should have told you in the first place!”