Guys, I cannot write to save myself! But I've decided to try one now that I have the whole summer ahead of me so yeah... I can't promise anything here but I'll try. Any tips and advice and stuff will be greatly appreciated and stuff so yeah.
You all know what I own and what I don't so pointless me wasting time going through it all, love you guys.
I could feel the sun on the back of my neck. I knew I should feel grateful that I could, instead of the ice-cold breath of the other inmates and the cold, stone walls in the cells of Azkaban Prison, but all the same, I'd always hated the sun. I tried to keep my thoughts on the task ahead, yet off it, at the same time. What I was about to do was going to be the most difficult thing I'd ever have to do in my life, I knew that, yet at the same time, I couldn't bring myself to shed a tear, feel any emotion whatsoever. I'm a Malfoy. I don't feel emotions.
I listened as he droned on and on, through the whole thing my mind had been wandering back to the good times, back to the times when I was happy and care-free, I couldn't bring myself to think about what the old bastard was saying. They always say the same stuff at these things, don't they? It's almost as if they're scripted, never suited to one person in particular.
I looked over to where my mother sat. I couldn't see her face for that God-awful hat she was wearing but I knew she was crying. I could see it in the way she held herself, in the way her chest was heaving up and down, up and down, as if she were trying to calm herself down and failing miserably. The only woman I've ever loved. My dear mother.
I focused on my footsteps and the weight on my right shoulder. One...Two...One...Two...Left...Right...Left...Right...This couldn't be any slower, could it? I shifted the weight slightly, trying to ease it. I could tell that that was going to be sore in the morning.
I watched as people held each other and spoke in low, comforting voices. I stood alone, at the side of the hole, my hands clasped together in front of me, looking down sombrely. I thought about the past four years, how they'd been the best four years of my life. I felt my chest getting tight. I felt my eyes stinging and getting slightly damp around the edges. I felt that lump in my throat arise, you know, the one you get right before you break down in tears? I felt myself go numb all over. Numb. Yes, numb, I'd have to be, I couldn't cry, not in front of all of these people. I'm a Malfoy. I don't feel emotions.
Lastly, I observed the cool, black marble that had been placed down in the ground with the silky, white writing scrawled across it. I read it over and over again, so often that the words are still imprinted in my mind today. I took my eyes away after reading it at least fifty times, the last word clearest in my mind; 'Damion'.
I straightened myself up, coughed slightly and brushed non-existent dust from my black suit. I began walking away, focusing on my footsteps, the sun on the back of my neck. I began to run. Faster, faster until I couldn't feel anything but the wind in my light, blonde hair, my feet thudding against the concrete and the grass underneath me and the sun on the back of my neck. I didn't stop until I was out of breath completely, and that's when it hit me. And boy, did it hit me hard. I felt the tears roll down my cheeks, I felt all the pain of the day rise to the surface, my body was rocking with the force of my tears, I actually had a pain right where my heart is. I lay on the ground, just sobbing for Godric knows how long. I don't actually remember stopping. I remember getting up, brushing off my suit and starting to walk again. That's when I saw it. A sight I never thought I'd see. A man of average height, messy black hair and glasses, reading from the same cool marble I had been. I saw him bend over and place one white rose beside it. I squinted in the sunlight to see his face clearer. I couldn't see the features clearly, but I'd know that lightning-shaped scar anywhere. That man, was Harry Potter.
Five Year Anniversary of Damion Joseph Malfoy Sees Father, Draco Malfoy Absolutely Sloshed
I slammed the Daily Prophet down on my desk, my coffee spilling from the cup. I placed my hands flat down on the desk, looking at the picture I have of my mother and I from when I was a child, laughing together and reading a book, and counted, mentally, to ten. That's how the therapist told me to keep my temper. It usually worked, but not today. I felt the rage bubble up in me, the fact I had a hangover from my state of being "Absolutely Sloshed" the night before, not helping whatsoever. I got to ten and felt slightly relieved. I got up from my chair and began pacing the room, wringing my hands as I went. It was that awful Skeeter woman. How someone hadn't hexed her into oblivion yet, I'd never know. I swear, if I ever got within a mile radius of her...
A knock on the door broke my train of thought. I cleared my throat, sat back down at my desk and shouted for the person to come in.
"G-good m-morning Mr M-Malfoy," stammered the new assistant in the department.
He was small and blonde and irritating. He was a Gryffindor but I guess I spent so much time tormenting Potter and his 'Squad' that I hadn't noticed very many other Gryffindorks. And yes, I'm still biased when it comes to Hogwarts Houses.
"Morning," I said curtly. I still didn't know his name.
"Can I g-get you anything, s-sir?" he looked at me eagerly, yet nervously.
"No. What's your name?" I demanded, rubbing my temples.
"Dennis. D-Dennis Creevey, sir," he shifted from foot to foot.
Creevey...Creevey...Cree- Creevey! That irritating boy with the camera! God, that boy worshipped the ground Potter walked on. Pretty sure he was petrified too...
"Finally lost the camera then, huh?" I enquired, taking a sip of what was left of my coffee.
"I'm Dennis sir...N-not Colin," he looked down, snivelling a little.
"Who?" I scratched my head, utterly baffled.
"My older brother. Colin. He was killed in the Final Battle." Dennis promptly began to sob, his nose running, tears rolling down his face.
I looked around for help. I was the only other one in the department today. I didn't know what to do.
"There, there," I said awkwardly, patting his shoulder. "He's...umm... In a better place now?"
Dennis sniffled. "Y-yes sir, you- you're right. Thank you," he wiped his nose on his sleeve.
"My pleasure... now, you go, umm, calm down."
"Thank you, s-sir," he stammered again, turning to leave the office.
"Oh, and Creevey?"
"Yes s-sir?"
"Do try to stop that awful stammering please."
I held my breath as I walked up the long, cobbled pathway. It had changed. The house, I mean. Everything about it. It was no longer a big, black building, cold and unwelcoming, but a sort of light blueish, grey. There were new flowers planted in the gardens, lilies, roses, violets, bluebells...All very beautiful. In the centre of the garden, there was a large fountain of a group of mermaids, all spewing water into the bowl beneath, with little goldfish swimming around in there. I looked around. Mother had done a good job.
"Draco, darling!"
The door swung open, revealing my mother, standing in the doorway of a bright interior and wearing pink dress robes.
"Mother," I smiled, hugging her and kissing her hand gently.
"Come in, my dear. Can I get you anything? Coffee? Tea? Water? Perhaps something a little stronger? Well, Salazar knows you don't need anything stronger today, and now thanks to Skeeter, so does the rest of the Wizarding community," she glared pointedly at me.
I may be a Malfoy, unwilling to feel emotions, but I always tried my hardest not to disappoint my mother.
"Mother, it was not nearly as bad as Skeeter described. I was mourning. I didn't have my wits about me," I shuffled nervously under her glare.
"And who was the woman in the picture?" she pointed to the moving picture of a woman and I, laughing and stumbling out of a pub on the front of the Prophet.
"Marion something, Mary something, Melissa some- well, you get the idea," I shrugged.
In all honesty, I didn't remember the girl well. I just remember her handing me shot after shot. She was a member of the Holyhead Harpies though, I remember seeing her with the Weasley girl, who is looking a lot nicer than I remember her being when we were in Hogwarts together. I'd never go for her though. Nobody who's related to Ronald Weasley.
"That's not the way I raised to, Draco," she said coolly.
"I know, Mother, I know."
"I know you miss Damion, but you know if he were still here you wouldn't be leaving anywhere with Marion Mary Melissa something," she replied, sorting her skirt around her as we sat in the lounge.
"Well he isn't here, Mother. My son is dead. I am mourning him. I will do whatever I have to to help me through that process," I snapped.
"Tone, Draco," she said, sharply.
"Sorry."
She ignored me and walked through the small archway into the kitchen. I saw her take some glasses from the top cupboard and fill it with a fine wine from her supply.
"Come, Draco."
I followed her quietly, taking a seat at the wooden table in the centre of the room. She sat down across from me, sliding the glass to me.
"I called you here for a reason apart from Damion," she said, taking a sip. "It has come to my attention, now more than ever, that you have not yet met a suitable witch to settle and marry with."
I chocked on my beverage. "What?"
"A witch, Draco. A female Wizard."
"I know what a witch is," I replied dryly, "but since when do you take any interest in my love-life?"
"Or lack thereof," she snorted.
I rolled my eyes, sighing and leaning back in my chair. "You called me here to mock how undesirable I am?"
"No, sweetheart, that's just an added bonus," she beamed. "However, I am having a garden party a week tomorrow and you will be attending. Quite a few of my friends will be here with their daughters. You will be mingling amongst them."
"Mother, I have plans that day, plus I don't think-"
"You will be attending Draco," she said, her tone warning.
I sighed. I knew a lost case when I saw one. I'd just have to bight the bullet and attend this magnificent Garden Party.
"Fine. What shall I wear to this dazzling event?" I asked, sarcasm dripping from the question.
"A suit. Light shirt and tie though sweetheart."
"Great. Just lovely," I smiled sarcastically.
"I can't help feeling that your heart isn't really in this Garden Party, mate," Blaise said, taking a sip of beer.
"Really? Dear me no, Blaise, I'm practically wetting myself with excitement," I squealed, clapping my hands.
He laughed and put his next card down as I took a sip of my own beer. Disgusting muggle beverages.
"But you will be coming with me, won't you?" I asked, placing my card down with his.
"Looks like I'm gonna have too..." he muttered, rolling his eyes.
"There'll be girls there," I tried to sound light-hearted.
"Yeah. Precious, Pure-Blood, Princesses, mate."
I sighed. I knew he was right. My mother would have arranged for the most spoiled women on earth to come. I knew she secretly wanted a Pure-Blood grandchild. But none of the Pure-Bloods took my fancy and I sure as hell wasn't marrying a muggle.
"I know, Zabini, just please don't make me go alone," I begged.
"The famous Draco Malfoy, Slytherin Sex-God, need a wingman for his mother's Garden Party?" he wiggled his eyebrows, putting on a fake posh voice for the last two words.
"Yes, Blaise, that is exactly what it is. I want to show up, sit in the corner with my head in a book until I look up, see a girl who is majorly out of my league, then trot up to you and ask you to introduce us," I said, sarcastically.
"Sounds like a plan," he smiled, punching me lightly on the shoulder.
"By the way, you need to wear a suit. Preferably with a light coloured shirt and tie."
"I look good in a suit," he replied, lifting up a nearby spoon to admire himself and winking in what he hoped was a seductive way at his own reflection.
I snorted. "Yes dear, the trousers compliments your arse perfectly."
"Why thank you, Draco," he simpered, batting his eyelashes at me.
This is how I knew he and I were supposed to be best friends. If you don't have those slightly gay moments with your friends, they're not really your friend.
Sorry it's a little short guys, the length of the chapters will increase as they go on. Could you give it a review just to tell me what you think? Or even drop me a private message. I do try to reply to all my reviews anyways, so it's not a one-way thing I promise. I need your advice! Thanks a lot guys, I wrote this in an hour at 3:30 am when I hadn't slept the night before and it was a spur of the moment thing so I don't really know where I'm going with this. Love you all.
-Beth Weasley Snape