Hey guys! If you've already read these, I would like to let you know that I'm going through and revamping/correcting any mistakes. Feel free to follow along!
XOXO, Meranna.
Secrets, Chapter 1: 2.0
year one
There is a combination of sausage, streaky bacon, and back bacon on a platter in front of me; steaming and popping fresh from the skillet, a large bowl of baked beans; with a crystal ladle sparkling in the natural light from the bay window behind me, tomatoes that have been cooked in every way; fried in bacon grease, stewed, and grilled.
I have both toast and fried bread sitting on my plate ready to be devoured, but the most important is the eggs; two with runny yolk, another poached and the last simply scrambled.
I barely manage to reach the eggs from across the table. That's all I eat anyways, my toast and the eggs with the runny yolk. Twinkie, the house elf, cooks all this food and I leave it to go to waste every time.
I wish mom were here. She would eat with me. Then, I wouldn't have to spend my day alone. Mom was beautiful. She had a soft face, small nose and smiling eyes. Her eyes told me stories, no… secrets, which her mouth couldn't always say. I know her secrets, though. I am still the only one with her secrets. I can't tell. It won't help. She told me it wouldn't help, not yet.
I will never tell.
I must be silent with rolling thunder hidden in my core.
"Boy"
I flinch.
"What in the bloody hell are you doing with all this fucking food about?"
I don't say anything. He has that swaying walk about him again. That walk is never good. I can't wait until Hogwarts. Hopefully everyone there knows how to walk straight.
It will be an escape.
"I said, what. The. Fuck. Are you doing with all this damn food?"
"Yes sir," I can hear myself respond, but I'm not aware that I'm actually saying anything, "I'm quite hungry…" My voice is weak.
This is a lie, of course. I've already explained I only eat the toast and eggs. Twinkie always tries to shove this food down my throat. She means well but being wasteful makes father angry.
"Are you, now?" He knows that I'm lying. He always knows.
"Yes, sir." I leave it as short as possible. I don't want to talk to him anymore and I don't want Twinkie getting the brunt of his anger, either.
"You better eat every bit of it or..." I can see he's walking around me like an lion stalking his prey in my peripheral vision. "Do you not remember?" His grinds his teeth together, it's almost as if he's trying to hold the violent impulses back... "Must I remind you?"
Almost.
"Yes, of course I remember. There is no reminder needed." My stomach turns, I can't eat all of this food and at those implications, I've lost what little appetite I had in the first place.
"What did you just say to me boy?" His voice is dangerously low, "You dare tell me what is and is not necessary? You think you make the rules here, do you?"
"No, sir. Of course, I will eat it." I don't look at him because I'm terrified. My eyes are cast down and I'm picking off the crust of my toast with my fingernail, waiting on him to leave. I don't want to see the hatred in his eyes and I don't want him to see mother in mine.
As soon as the thought crosses my mind there is a shift in the room. The air is stagnant. He is no longer stalking his prey. He's about to pounce.
I brace myself for whatever is coming.
"You fucking look at me when I'm talking to you!"
My heart drops to perform a backflip in my stomach and I swear he can read my mind. I know he can. He knows. He always knows. I resist the urge to move uncomfortably, no matter how bad the feeling is gnawing at my insides. I force myself to look at him, at the spot between his eyebrows. I can't look in those eyes. I wont do it.
"You pathetic excuse for a pureblood! You don't even have the courage to look at me! LOOK AT ME!"
My head jerks involuntarily, as if I'm being forced… it wouldn't be the first time. "I AM!" I shout back, unable to hold back the rage that is building with the momentum of a freight train. I can no longer fight the hatred that boils inside of me. I know I'm walking a fine line. I know he's going to punish me for talking back, for talking at all… but I can't do this anymore. I'll be gone soon… two more weeks until Hogwarts.
"YOU DARE?" He snarls at me. Has he always been so… vicious?
The air is growing thick and I wonder if he will be able to backhand me so easily this time. Surely, he knows that one day this will come back to him. One day, I'll do what I was born for. Secrets. He doesn't know that, actually.
I must be silent. I must keep my thunder rolling in my core. I must have the strength to remain passive. I can't allow my anger to over come me.
Control. I must rule my mind or it will rule me.
I must become a silent shell. Empty and silent, it's all the same.
I do not respond to him. I have already allowed myself to get carried away. Waiting for the strike is always the worse part. I yearn for the beating because the sooner it comes, the sooner it will be over.
"Master Nott."
Twinkie, she's here, talking in her voice that is so high one would think only dogs could hear it.
"What is it you little shit?" His teeth never part; he's speaking through them.
"Master Malfoy is here… and he's brought the boy." She squeaks loudly.
"Show him in." he turns around to face me once more, "Looks like you have someone to help you finish this food, boy. We will finish this later." And he walks out.
I sigh after he leaves the room, feeling relieved even if it is temporary… even if it will only be worse later… even if this never ends.
"Hurry the fuck up!" I hear father shout at the house elf and then I catch the sound of what I can only imagine to be a swift kick at Twinkie's little body and a strangled outburst of tears. He is clearly taking his anger at me out on the elf.
I find my father intolerable and I have since my mother died. He was nothing to me before; he was a silent figure in the background until he became angry, now… It's worse. He is always angry. It's better to be alone, because that way, he can't hurt me.
He's the only person I see every day. I still try to feign indifference but that's the thing about hate. It's hard to fight off. That feeling you have in your gut when you see the person you loathe, it's all you can do not think about it, and then you're just thinking about not thinking about it. At least, that's what I do.
He and Lucius Malfoy have been meeting often this summer. I'm not sure if I believe there is a motive that involves me or not. Lucius doesn't always bring Draco. Part of me wonders if he knows that my father is psycho, maybe I just hope he knows. Maybe I hope he never finds out. I don't know what I want.
Draco does know, though. He doesn't say much about it. Just begs me to come home with him when he and his father leave my house. I would say yes but that's the only thing worse than saying no. If I say no, I can stay home and try to avoid everything. If I say yes, I have to go to the Malfoy manner and look at her. I'll have to see his mother, his loving mother, who thrives on giving her family the best. It's not just materialistic things; it's the love and adoration that's written all over her face, too.
She is someone who would take in a pureblood child without a second thought, but that's not something I can do. I have to come home at some point and that makes it so much worse; there is no love here. Father and I will have a discussion about the visit. It's the same one every time I come back.
'The Malfoy family is very important to keep ties with. That's the only reason you're allowed to go there. You best make friends with the boy: Draco. Without him you'll surely be nothing. Do you understand me? You are nothing. Worthless. You're a waste of my pureblood. You have none of the desirable traits of a Slytherin - of my lineage or myself.'
'Yes, sir.'
'Do you think you're getting smart with me? If you want to prove yourself, you would do well to follow in Draco's lead.'
Draco doesn't see in his father what I see in mine. My father, he's too far gone. I don't want Draco to deal with the same thing I do. I don't know that I could wish this on even my enemies.
"Nott."
"Draco."
"You're such a dung. Why don't you ever use sir names?"
"You know this, Draco." I emphasize his name and he rolls his eyes.
"Maybe I do, but I still think you should try to act like you care. Your father might relax."
It's my turn to roll my eyes. He is always saying the same thing, hoping he will break through to me.
"That might be worse than actually caring."
Draco scoffed and looked at the food that was splayed out in front of us.
"I hope you haven't eaten." I mutter, "Thoros has just demanded that I eat all the food or else."
"Fuck that and for your information, of course I have eaten. Who do you think is raising me? A muggle?"
"Shut up, Draco." He's so unbelievable. He loves being a follower. He'll learn one day. He'll see - it's not as nice as you think it is. He'd be nothing without a family that loves him. Strip that from an 11-year-old Draco Malfoy and what do you have? A Theodore Nott.
I can't say I blame him for the way he is. I might be the same way if things had turned out differently, if my mother hadn't died just after my 9th birthday. I think that's why we're friends, though. I know I would be more or less just like him. It makes him easier to deal with. He's a self-righteous prat and he's eleven. I shake my head and brace myself for this amount of food I'm about to push down.
"How bad is it?"
"It's gotten worse." I admit because I know he wont stop pressing until he gets his bloody answer. He's unyielding when he finds something that he wants.
He says nothing and I'm grateful. We pile our plates up and I eyeball my food. I'll probably have to throw up later.
"My mother has a plan."
"What are you on about?" I look up at him and his face has softened. Pity.
"For you. She wants to help you."
There it is - the realization that they do, in fact, know my father is a lunatic. Who else knows?
"Your Mommy and Daddy can't help me Draco. I don't want it. I don't need your pity. I will be fine. We will be at Hogwarts soon." I stab the sausage with my fork.
"Not permanently."
He ignored my jab about his parents completely. I wish it had changed the subject. I wish he would let it go. Just… let it go.
"No. But it will be better than this." I mumble through a mouth full of sausage.
"Yeah, it will… while you're there, but you and I both know you have to come back. Look," Draco paused and grabbed a piece of bacon waving it around for good measure, "Teddy… I know what your father thinks of my family… Our name. I know you don't feel that way, okay? You don't give a rats ass and that's why we are friends, yeah?"
"You think we're friends because I don't care if you're a Malfoy? I think you're a little mixed up, mate."
Another piece of sausage down.
"No, I'm not. I am your friend because I know that you would be friends with me regardless of who I am. You think I can't tell when people are only nice to me because of my family? I mean, I wont say I'm not damn proud, because I am." He plops the bacon into his arrogant little mouth.
I laugh at his admission, as if that wasn't already obvious.
"I'm serious. Them…" he said, referring to no one in particular, "I don't have to give them a reason to like me, and I don't particularly want to because they will follow me around anyways. You are a different type of person. I want you to come stay with me until Hogwarts starts, because you are my friend." Draco looks like he is in pain, as if this admission was going to kill him.
I let him stew.
"I don't know."
"You've already said it's gotten worse. It's not going to get better. You have another two weeks. Why put yourself through this, when you can just stay with me? My parents have already approved, even though father will act as if this is news to him." He takes in a mouthful of baked beans and I briefly wonder how he's eating such a large bite.
I think about this for sometime. I know my father would never say no to Draco or Lucius. He has high hopes that I will bond with Draco so ferociously that I become him. It's something I've long since gotten over.
I used to have friends over all the time, until mother passed. She used to push me into play dates with Miles and Draco. Miles would bring Cash and Draco always had a different follower with him. That's something my father took notice in. He admired it. He wanted me to have that arrogant, self-righteous, and pompous, I don't give a fuck presence at the ripe age of seven. Yes, Lucius Malfoy can breed them well. Or so everyone thinks.
"Fine. Go lay the groundwork. I'll finish eating."
A smirk grows on his face and I know this was going to fall perfectly into his pampered little hands.
"Don't talk about this conversation. Ever. It never happened."
Back to his normal self again, spoilt and snappy.