"Mr. Eddings runs a small firm, almost unknown, so even if we lose the case, he will gain a measure of prestige and publicity by finally representing a 'big' client. That means new work, even if he loses. If he wins, however, he is looking at a lot of prestige and even more new business," she answered back.
...
Looking back down at the courtroom floor, he examined the lawyer who was busy looking over his paperwork with mixed feelings; his mind turning back to the subject of gold. "How much do we have left?" he asked, not really sure if he wanted to know the answer or not.
"Less than twenty thousand galleons. Hopefully it will be enough until the Malfoy family vaults are reopened to us, even then, your father limited the size of withdrawals I can make," she explained carefully. "With him still being alive, he is officially still the head of the family, despite his mental condition preventing him from fulfilling the role, which means he'll still officially control the purse strings of the family. That can't be challenged until you are 17 and can claim the position for yourself given the extenuating circumstances. Until then we need to closely watch our spending. If things get really bad, I could always approach my former family, but I doubt they will offer any aid as long as I carry your father's name," his mother's words causing him to snarl in disgust at the very idea of being forced to go and beg anything of the Lord Black.
"Did father not trust you?" he asked without thinking, wondering if he should even trust his mother if his father didn't. His ridiculously blunt, un-Slytherin words caused his mother to stiffen visibly at the question, before giving him a very, very cold look, a look he recognised as a bad sign.
He immediately realized that he had touched upon a raw nerve with his mother, but before he could backtrack and apologize profusely his mother spoke, her tone sounding like ice and sharp steel mixed as one. "Your father was a rather distrustful individual; he trusted no one, not even me, despite the fact that I stood loyally by his side for so many years without complaint. Maybe the better word would even be 'paranoid' to describe your father's attitude to the world; he was always looking for the slightest sign of betrayal, jumping at shadows," she answered, her tone bitter and angry at the end, but also a touch amused. "He was always worried he would be stabbed in the back. It's rather amusing that given all the incredibly dangerous people he dealt with on a daily basis, it was timid little Peter Pettigrew that set him up and brought him down in the end. It's always the ones you underestimate that get you in the end Draco, remember that. And don't ever trust a rat either."
He just nodded, since he had nothing productive to add to the subject. He decided to ask another blunt question that had been on his mind. "Did you even love father?" he asked, as his mother just looked at him, clearly debating what to share with him as he held his breath, hoping the answer was an unequivocal 'yes.'
"Do you really want to know? It will change how you see me and your father," she asked in return.
He paused for a moment, "Yes, I do," he answered, wanting to know the truth of the matter.
"I did love him, at least at first, despite it being an arranged marriage by our parents," she answered with a sad smile. "Well, I thought I did, he was so charming and cunning, a wizard with a quickly growing power and influence and reputation. He was like my prince and along he came to sweep me off my feet." He nodded, thankful that his mother was keeping out the more personal details of their courtship. "But that quickly faded away into nothing, and that young love was washed away," she finished with a regretful sigh.
"What happened?" he blurted out, wanting to know why his mother didn't love his father any longer.
"Many things, many small things that added up," she stated vaguely, avoiding the question in a way that was so typical of someone who had been a member of Slytherin house.
"Mother, I want to know," he pushed, wanting to know more about his mother and father who he always thought loved each other, at least until a few moments ago.
She sighed, "The first thing, and the most damning, was when I came to realize that he did not in fact love me. I was merely a means to an end, the way he'd have a pureblood heir, a successor to ensure that his family name continued on long after he was gone. He didn't share or ask me for advice with his schemes, nor did he trust me. He wanted a pretty trophy wife to look good on his arm when he attended parties and climbed the political ladder, never a true partner. But we did make a deal. He would treat me with respect and ensure that I had everything I could ever desire in life, and I, in turn, would play my part in his grand schemes as his prefect pureblood wife." He nodded again. "We did have some problems, and several miscarriages that damaged the relationship between us that always ended in your father blaming me and me blaming him."
"Then we finally had you and things got better for us, because we both loved you," she smiled fondly at the memory before her mask was back in place. "And that love for you was something we could share, something that gave us a common goal and purpose. We both wanted what was best for you, and that gave us a common ground to build our marriage around. It also helped that there was no longer a dark lord around anymore calling him away all the time to complete tasks for him. I swear, your father seemed to love the dark lord more than he loved me at times. In the end our marriage became just like most other arranged marriages in the end, we both played our own part in public, love was replaced with contentment. I was married to the most powerful man in the country. I had money, position, comfort and a son to raise, and he had the perfect wife and son he always desired to inherit his throne."
He wanted to say something, but his tongue froze in his mouth, preventing him from saying anything as his mind absorbed and digested his mother's explanation which explained so much, and why he had no younger sibling.
"I admit, I would have liked it if he saw me more as an equal partner in our marriage, but that just didn't happen despite my best efforts to make it happen. He just didn't trust anyone, not even me… I personally blame the darks arts myself, they twist and corrupt one's emotions, corrupting the caster to the point where they just aren't capable of feeling love and affection and kindness anymore," she stated, her mask fully restored.
"Father wanted to teach me the dark arts," he said at last, finally finding his words again.
"I would have tried to discourage him from that idea," she replied evenly. "When the dark arts are overused they can twist and corrupt your personality beyond repair. They can also rob you of your fertility as well, but your father would never acknowledge that fact. My sister Bella is an example of what can happen from over usage. She is a nut case now, totally insane, and the dementors have probably made her even worse. It really is a shame; she was such a nice girl, beautiful and kind, intelligent and powerful."
He nodded, not sure what to add, or how to reply to his mother's remarks as he looked out over the quieting courtroom, trying to work out if he felt any different about his father.
"If you had gotten married to Miss Parkinson like your father intended, you might have been lucky enough to actually fall in love with her someday, but in all likelihood you would have likely merely reached a compromise, an arrangement between the pair of you to ensure the marriage worked out, just like I did with your father and just like my mother did with my father," she explained. He nodded automatically again, not really paying attention anymore, too wrapped up in his own thoughts to listen to his mother's words.
The next couple of minutes passed by without any more words being exchanged between the two of them, his mother cancelling the privacy charm as he considered his parents' relationship and his own future. Turning back to face his mum, he was just about to ask another question when the doors leading to the Wizengamot chamber closed noisily and a blue energy barrier came from the grand wooden doors, sealing the room as the Chief Warlock stood up from his chair and called the chamber to silence.
...
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