Title: Meeting Mrs. Malfoy (1/1)
Author: Restive Nature (aka Bavite)
Rated- 13 for some mild language
Disclaimer: All recognizable characters and settings belong to either Rowling or Whedon. *sigh*
Summary- Sequel to Roses To Remember. The title says it all!
Spoilers- Season 7 of Buffy, Season 4 of Angel. For HP- set six years after OoTP.
Distribution: TtH, VSS, ff.net and my Yahoo group
Dedicated to: Inell Just a little something extra on your birthday!
Meeting Mrs. Malfoy
Willow sighed as she scooted into the booth, making sure that there was room for her fiancé. It still gave her a little thrill when she said that word to herself. She, Willow Rosenburg, was engaged to the most handsome man she could recall seeing in a long time. With his devastatingly, piercing eyes, and shock of pale blonde hair. He was just a little taller than she, just the right height for her to rest her head comfortably in that little spot in the crook of his shoulder. Yes, he really was something.
Her friends, well most of them, hadn’t been surprised when two weeks ago, Willow had dragged Draco downstairs to announce their engagement. Only Xander it seemed had been oblivious, and only in the I’m-her-best-friend-she’ll-get-over-this-guy kind of way. But after the one-eyed man had given Draco the standard, hurt-my-friend-and-I’ll-hunt-you-down-and-beat-you-with-a-shovel speech, things were good. Especially when they discovered that Draco was a wizard. They’d laughed and said it was a good match for the Wiccan. Since Draco was not self-taught, as she was, Willow thought that they thought maybe he’d help anchor her, keeping her from descending too deeply into the dark arts.
Yes, everyone was happy.
"Willow," Draco called for her attention as he approached the table she had chosen. Once again, the beautiful redhead was off in her dreamland. He smiled softly, seeing her hand perched atop the table. She must have been staring at her ring again. Willow!" he called a little more sharply. Her head shot up, her eyes regaining focus.
"Huh? What?" she mumbled. Draco set the butterbeers he’d been carrying and slid in next to her. He dropped a light kiss on her forehead and with his right hand, picked up her left. He studied her hand, his face serious.
"Honestly," he muttered. "I am going to take this away from you if you keep slipping off like that. It’s the fourth time today."
"No!" Willow gasped, yanking her hand back to cradle it against her chest. "I love my ring!"
"I know you do," he pouted, his voice petulant. "I think you love it more than me."
"Never," she chuckled, cupping his cheek as she leaned in for one of his mind-numbing kisses. And it was true. The ring was just a symbol of their love. Anyone seeing them together didn’t need the ring to know that their love was bigger than the both of them were. But what a lovely symbol it was, she couldn’t help thinking. A deep emerald, with two smaller emeralds to either side set in a slim band of platinum. When he’d given it to her, she’d commented on the emeralds. She’d always imagined a diamond. But he’d explained how silver and green had been his house colors. So that was where he was coming from. The large emerald, he’d said, made him think of her eyes. And that’s where he wanted to be for the rest of his life. She’d told the girls about it later and they’d swooned with pleasure, just as she had.
Finally breaking off the kiss, as much as they disliked too, they were in a public place after all, and they focused on what had brought them to London. After their engagement, they sat down to seriously talk things out. With her friend’s input, it was decided that Willow would relocate to England. Which didn’t bother her at all. The rest of the group, rested from the battle and destruction of the Hellmouth, were ready to move on to the next stage. They needed to find the new Slayers and bring them to a safe haven. They were hoping that Willow could, in exchange for the Slayers help in their world, convince the magic community to help them out as well. A fair trade. It would give the Wizarding community a bit larger army. And hopefully, the Wizards would help in the training and education of the Slayers. So today, Willow was to meet with a representative of the Order. Draco wasn’t sure who it would be, as Dumbledore hadn’t decided, the last he’d talked to him.
But before they were to meet, Draco and Willow were going to have lunch. And since she’d had fun going to quaint little English pubs with Giles before, he’d decided on the Leaky Cauldron. Willow had loved it immediately. The darkened atmosphere was perfect for a little privacy; the people were fairly friendly, to her at least. And the butterbeer Draco had procured was already warming her tummy from the chilly day outside. Tom, the barkeep, brought over their lunch as soon as it was ready. Willow dug in, barely noticing what it was; she was enjoying herself so much.
They were almost through with their meal, when Willow noticed her fiancé stiffen. His eyes were wide, and she stared at him, hoping to discern what was bothering him. His hand on hers tightened fractionally and finally, he swung his head to the right. His knuckles became white, as his grip intensified. Willow ran a soothing hand up and down his arm.
"Draco?" she asked. "What is it?" She tried to follow his line of sight, but could only see an older witch, pale and beautiful, talking with Tom. The barkeep nodded and pointed in their direction. The blonde witch nodded and turned regally towards them. Her strides toward them were even and smooth, but Willow could feel the tension in Draco increase, the closer the woman came. "Who is that?" she whispered. He didn’t answer, but as the woman stopped at their table, he let loose Willow’s hand and stood.
"Mother," he greeted her calmly, but both women could see a small thread of nervousness in his posture.
"Draco," she replied, just as calm. She glanced down at Willow, a very familiar sneer across her face. Willow, thinking quickly, kept herself from stiffening under the glare directed her way. She’d always had a difficult time standing up to authority figures, but something warned her now, not to bend in any way shape or form. Instead, she just smiled and inclined her head politely.
"Mother, what are you doing here?" Draco rumbled. The Leaky Cauldron was hardly the place that Narcissa Malfoy would deign to look at, much less enter.
"I’m here to see my son," she murmured, still not breaking her gaze from Willow. "And of course the young woman who has caught his attention." She did look away then, to fix her penetrating stare on her only child. "I had to hear from Severus that you had brought a young woman home from America." The sneer deepened. "Really Draco, are you that ashamed of her that you couldn’t introduce us properly?"
"N-no Mother," he stammered, suddenly at a loss. Of all the impediments to their being together, he had most feared his mother’s reaction. She was a pureblood to a fault.
"Perhaps you could invite me to sit, as I’m sure we do not wish to lead the patrons of this,"
she wrinkled her nose, "establishment to regard us as entertainment."
"I would," Draco drawled, suddenly at a distinct disadvantage. His mother was behaving oddly, for her. Granted, she would hesitate about causing a scene. But never when it came to muggles, as he was almost sure Snape would have great delight in relating. She’d always voiced her opinion loudly. "But unfortunately Mother, we need to be going."
"So soon, my son?" she inquired, taking a seat on the other side of the table from them. Draco swore inwardly and slid back in to where he’d been seated before. He heard Willow’s soft gasp and his eyes flew to her. She was gazing intently at Narcissa, but his mother was calmly arranging her robes around her.
"We have a meeting to attend," Willow supplied finally.
"And did I ask you?" Narcissa demanded pointedly. Draco winced inwardly, having occasionally been on the receiving end of that cool voice.
"You requested information," Willow remarked quietly, placing a restraining hand on her fiancé. "I provided it."
"Ah," Narcissa leaned back, smiling coldly. "The little mudblood has a spine. Or something generally resembling one."
"Mother," Draco growled warningly. It was a taunt he’d used many times in the past, but now, the slur directed at his intended cut through him like a Hogwart’s ghost.
"I’ve never heard that word before," Willow grimaced, getting the general gist of the meaning behind it. "I believe that I like it. I’ve always had a little grit and determination in me." She leaned towards Draco, trying to leaven the mood. "Remind me to tell you about my resolve face some time."
"Willow," Draco whispered back harshly, "I hardly think now is the time to be joking about." He heard a strange squeaking noise and whirled back to his mother, but she was still sitting ramrod straight, the expression on her face unchanged. Perhaps the Leaky Cauldron had begun attracting mice.
"Well Draco," Narcissa raised her elegantly shaped eyebrows at him. "At least tell me her name."
He inhaled sharply. This afternoon was beginning to slip away from him. "Her name is Willow Rosenburg, Mother." He turned to Willow. "My mother, Narcissa Malfoy." The two women nodded both studying the other. And Draco knew he had to get it over with. "She’s a wandless witch mother." He almost cringed, waiting for the outburst. But none came. If anything, his mother looked… amused.
"Really," the blonde woman drawled. "Tell me, where were you taught?"
"I am self taught," Willow replied, fairly haughtily for her. She knew who she was and had no reason, well very few reasons not to be proud of herself.
"Then you’d have no defense against this," Narcissa smirked as she pulled a wand from her robe, pointing it straight at the redhead.
"Mother!" Draco whispered harshly, his eyes darting around. He should have known, should have expected something like this. He could only run from his past for so long. He could only hope that there was very few other Death-Eaters around. Willow’s whisper caught his attention from trying to plan an escape and he turned in time to see Narcissa’s wand fly into Willow’s waiting hand.
"Very good child," Narcissa congratulated in a mocking tone, even as she withdrew a second wand. "But a smart woman is always prepared."
"And as you’ve seen what I can do without a wand," Willow shrugged, not at all perturbed at the threat before her, "imagine what badness I can create with even more focus." The two women stared at each other while Draco looked nervously between them. He was really starting to get that sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that he was missing something.
"As I said, a smart woman…" Narcissa shrugged delicately, slipping the wand up her sleeve. Willow set hers on the table before her, not touching, but still in reach. She turned to her son. "Well Draco, I believe I know everything I need to. You will excuse me, won’t you? As I recall, you claim a meeting, don’t you."
"Yes, the meeting," Draco was still battling that odd feeling. Narcissa stood and Draco followed suit, dreading whatever would come next. But Narcissa simply bent over the table, handing Willow a small piece of parchment. All Draco could see was the familiar address of 12 Grimmauld Place.
"Read and memorize that," Narcissa commanded. Willow nodded and in moments, the parchment had burned itself up, curling into cinder on the redhead’s plate. "And Willow," Narcissa continued, fluttering one hand over the engagement ring Willow wore proudly. "Welcome to the family."
"Thank you Narcissa," Willow responded with a smile. Draco goggled at both of them. He’d missed something. He had to have. For now, where he was sure were two women destined to be mortal enemies, were the familiar and long since seen smiles on the faces of the two women he loved most in this world. Narcissa kissed her son quickly on the cheek.
"Bring her over tonight my son," she whispered in his ear and then was gone. He glanced after her, only to see her robes disappearing out the door. He turned back to his now giggling fiancée.
"Did she…? Did I…? What the hell just happened here?" he demanded, sinking down to the seat.
"Don’t worry sweetie," Willow smirked, patting his hand comfortingly. "I’ll explain later." Draco snorted in derision. Women! He’d never understand them.