Is it?
“Daddy!”
Lucius sighed behind a copy of the Daily Prophet. He ignored the way Narcissa snorted from the other side of the kitchen table.
“Draco, we discussed this. You are to call me father.”
He didn’t have to look down to know that Draco was pouting. Five years old wasn’t old enough to have proper decorum… yet.
“But you said I could call you that in secret.”
Narcissa snorted again, and he debated about replacing her cleansing potion with a dye potion. Then they’d see if that humor lasted.
“We aren’t in secret, are we?” When he looked over the top of the paper he was proven right. Draco was pouting.
“I forgot what it meant.”
Lucius sighed again. It wasn’t worth it. Battles only mattered if they were won, and Lucius knew the moment that his son was born that Draco would win every battle.
“But that doesn’t matter!” Draco cried, hands clapping together. “You said one day I would get married and have a wife.”
“Yes,” Lucius said slowly, not bothering to look up from the paper as he began to read again. “I also said you needed to practice your studies so that you can take over the Malfoy name.”
“I don’t care about that.”
Battles. Losing battles.
“I decided that I’ll be the wife!” Draco continued; voice closer to a yell than anything polite. No decorum, he must get that from Narcissa.
“Pardon?” Lucius put down the paper and gave Draco his full attention, ignoring the wheezing laugh that Narcissa didn’t attempt to hide.
“I want to be a husband,” Draco said, puffing out his chest. “But I also want to have a husband too. So, I think that means I’m a wife.”
Decades of heartbreak, yells, fights and screams echoed in his mind before his son’s pleading eyes broke through. Lucius could feel Narcissa’s eyes on him, but this wasn’t a moment when he needed her help. Draco came to him, not her. These were his hangups, not hers. This was his time to be someone better for his son than his father was for him.
There were many criticisms that people held of Lucius—most of them true—but the one thing he wouldn’t be was his father.
“Two men can get married.”
Draco gasped at the same time Narcissa did.
“They can?” Draco did a weird set of movements that he believed was some kind of dance routine. Merlin knew where he picked up that from. The more he thought about it, Draco did spend far too much time with Dobby.
“Yes,” Lucius said with a sad tilt of his lips as he placed a hand to Draco’s cheek. “But there’s going to come a time when you’re going to have to ask yourself if it’s worth it. There will be a lot of people against it, they will expect more from a Malfoy heir.”
Draco frowned; head tilted. “But you said Malfoys don’t care about the thoughts of those beneath us.”
Lucius huffed, refusing to laugh even if his lips twitched.
“You’re right.” Would there ever be a battle he’d win with Draco? “So, then I’ll ask you. Is it? Is it worth it?”
Draco’s forehead wrinkled, tongue poked out as he made a very long and exaggerated thinking sound before he said in a tone that booked no argument,
“Yes.”
“Then you’d best find yourself a husband.”
Draco did another dance… if that was what one would call such a thing.
“Yes! You hear that mum? I get to be a husband and have one!”
“I did hear,” Narcissa said with such a soft sweet smile that Lucius fell in love all over again. “My baby is all grown up.”
Draco puffed out his chest again before he ran out of the room—with no decorum—as he said, “I have to tell Dobby! We have to start planning now.”
That brought a whole set of images that would have to be rectified as soon as possible. The last thing they needed was that senile elf planning anything.
Before he could walk after Draco, Narcissa placed a hand on top of his and said something that no one had ever told him before.
“I’m proud of you.”
And you know what? Lucius was proud of himself too. Just as he was proud of Draco—always would be.
Always.
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So I originally wrote this back in August when this release was fresh and then!!! APPARENTLY!!! just COMPLETELY forgot to post it!! so you get it now, three months late.
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Some of the dialogue from the Guardian Tower has been living rent free in my head and now I want to yell about it because it’s SO GOOD for background lore
Okay, so, on the first floor, Mindi tells us this:
I really like this because it helps illustrate one of the logistical problems of the Rose. Like, even if you took away everything else that makes them bad (which, admittedly, is most of the organisation and its purpose), the fact that they tend to, by default, present themselves as the only option and drive out competition is bad. On paper, a force of people trained in combat against magical threats, with reasonably easy access to that training, which has garrisons stationed across the land, is actually a pretty good solution to the whole Recurring Evil Magical Threats thing. We know this because the guardians and the paladins and the dragonslayers exist! They do this! The Rose seems to make membership easier to access but, frankly, I suspect that is in part because their training is less thorough.
And when the Rose show up and drive those other groups out (like they’ve done with the Guardians), they don’t actually improve anything. Best case scenario, everything is exactly the way it was before. More likely, things would get worse, because the people with active experience defending a particular area have been driven away and now the Rose members have to play catch-up
(A good example of how on paper a group like the Rose could help an area is Book 3 Amityvale. The local Guardians were long gone, so the Rose were able to help without doing that extra damage and made Amityvale a safer place to live....... but that’s specifically for the human inhabitants. Plus, we know they’re affecting the magic of the area - Amaris’s moon has started having phases - and that’s! probably not good! Also see: Raven having to flee for her own safety after getting bitten by a werewolf. Even where they are ostensibly doing the most good, the Rose are still an active danger to many, even their own in the wrong circumstances)
And, meanwhile, on the ground floor...
......further proof that the Rose actively try to drive competition out of the area. Falconreach has repeatedly made it clear that they want nothing to do with the Rose and they keep picking fights with the patrols.
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So I was thinking the other day, and I remembered that one of the only things we know about Christina Carpenter is that she travels for work.
I also happened to remember that New York is one of the most popular destinations for people to travel to for business.
I don't think Christina would actively seek out Sam and Tara if she were in New York, and vice versa. But this is also the Carpenters we're talking about, and with Sam and Tara's luck it's almost a guarantee that they would run each other.
Tara runs into her first. At a bar. We're 5-6 months post-6 and Sam's working a last-minute night shift. Tara's not been sleeping well the past few days, a resurgence of nightmares that she's keeping hidden, triggered by the release of a book on the attacks. Not Gale this time, she actually tried to get it blocked, just a rookie police officer who had the fortune to be involved in all the crime scenes. He's making bank on their misfortune.
She needed a drink, and to not be alone. She thought about calling Chad or Mindy, but they're back home for spring break and they've been having a good time, she doesn't want to spoil their mood. She thought about knocking on Danny's door, but couldn't bring herself to do it, it felt too weird. Running to her sister's boyfriend who she barely knows because she's lonely? That's pathetic. Gale, Kirby, Sidney? They're Sam's friends and support system really, and Sam deserves something that's just hers.
So here she is, drinking alone at a bar, when she meets eyes with a very familiar woman across the room. Oh you have got to be kidding me.
Her mother is here. In New York. Drinking. Right Here, Right Now. What are the chances? Tara looks away and hopes she didn't- nope, she's coming over, she saw me. Fuck.
"Darling," she croons. Oh, we're at that level of drunk are we, the part where she pretends she loves me.
"What are you doing here?" Tara doesn't even bother greeting her, her words are sharp and short.
"Can't a mother just come to see her daughter?" The statement is insincere, dripping with falseness. A million things sit on the tip of Tara's tongue, you have two daughters, remember?; you're not a mother; you're parked out at a bar despite knowing where we live; you're not here for us and I know it. In the end she says nothing, downing the remains of her drink and slipping off the barstool.
As she walks away she hears her mother call out to her. "You've always been ungrateful, you can't even spare 5 minutes for your mother?" Tara returns home feeling worse than before.
~
Sam's doing the grocery shopping when she spots her across the aisle. She's staring at the wine like it holds the secrets to the universe. Maybe it does, maybe that's why she's always spent so much time at the bottom of a bottle. Then Sam snaps out of it and remembers she's in New York, not Woodsboro, and that her mother should not be here. She quickly turns and collides with another shopper. She mutters apologies and hopes she escaped notice. She did not.
"Samantha."
You've gotta be kidding me.
Her mother approaches, and Sam sighs, letting out a weary "hello mom, what are you doing here?" Christina tuts, displeased with her words, as usual.
"So rude. Tara was the same. She's really developed an attitude since you came back, she used to be such a good girl." Sam does her best to keep her face blank, to not react to her words. Tara hasn't mentioned anything about their mother recently, let alone speaking to her, then again, she hasn't mentioned much of anything at all. She's been spending spring break moping around the apartment, something that just 6 months ago would have been a relief, for Sam to know where she was all the time. Now it's a concern.
She ignores the dig at herself, but won't let the slight against her sister go uncontested. "Tara is a wonderful person and if she had an attitude with you, I'm sure it was for a good reason."
Her mother scoffs. "Yes, you would say that, wouldn't you. So, aren't you going to invite me around? I would like to see where my wayward daughters are squatting these days."
Sam has the strong urge to tell her mother to fuck off, but bites her tongue instead. She speaks in as polite a tone as possible, "another time maybe. I've got a lot of things to do today."
Christina glances down at the grocery cart, eyes roving over the contents. She hums, picking up the carton of ice cream. "This is what you're feeding your sister is it? No wonder she's getting fat."
Sam snatches it back from her hands and throws it back down into the cart. She snarls out a "goodbye mother" and stalks off before she gives in to the urge to start throwing punches.
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