Written for Round 8 for QLFC- Write a story, inspiration being taken from your given Shakespeare play- Hamlet.
A big thank you to Jordi for betaing.
Poisonous Thoughts
Biting his nails nervously, Draco stared, no, analysed his father, sitting in front of him. It was almost laughable how he could see his father look and act so innocent, while knowing that darkness was probably seeping into his heart; corrupting it. Like it had done when Draco himself was much younger and much more naive. Fortunately (or unfortunately, depending on his mood), he had matured and went through many hardships that had shaped him into the man he was today. No way was he going to let his father destroy everything he had built. Not a chance in hell.
He smelt her dainty mint perfume before he felt her small hand on his.
"Why are you so nervous? Lucius does know his table manners, right?" Astoria teased and even though Draco's heart felt a lot lighter because of his wife's presence, he kept his gaze fixed and stony.
"Come on, Draco," Astoria exasperated, "ever since you went to the Malfoy Manor last weekend you've been acting very–"
"Very what," Draco spat.
"Bitter," Astoria replied coldly, narrowing her eyes. Draco knew she wanted to add something like 'at least wear a smile for my mother' or 'I'm your wife, I should know what is going on in that cynical mind of yours', but surprisingly she just got up from the sofa and walked over to her sister, who offered her a glass of white wine on arrival.
Draco cursed under his breath and wished that he had a nice, considerate older sibling to give him a glass of Ogden's finest. He didn't want to anger Astoria, like he had already upset and worried her, but he needed to do this by himself. To rip out the poison from the core.
(***)
"It's not what looks like, Draco." His father was crumpled on the floor, like a disregarded robe. But his eyes were bloodshot, hands were holding tightly onto a silver dial with unmistakable dark runes on.
The memories of the summer before Draco's sixth year at Hogwarts flooded into his mind. Voldemort's cold eyes, despite their primary colour, and the silver dial that he held on tightly; while he was cursing him with poison.
The dark mark that was hidden under many fabrics of clothing tingled slightly but he didn't show it.
"What are you doing with that? You told me you would get rid of that?" Lucius promised actually but Draco knew his father never really took any promises he made with him seriously, unless it was anunbreakable vow; which they never were.
Lucius quickly gathered himself up and tried to put on his most sensible face possible. "I found it in the cellar and was about to call the ministry to take it away–"
"Liar."
"Now now, Draco., I know that you don't believe me when I said I was done with everything... dark."
"You are holding one of the darkest artefacts I know!"
"To hand it in." Lucius sighed, but his eyes looked up and down his son. "Are you going somewhere important?"
"I'm meeting up with Astoria." Draco gritted his teeth, not really wanting to divulge in his life. Lucius always wanted to meet Astoria; to poison her, in Draco's mind. Turn her into a proper pure-blood.
"Oh, tell her father that I wanted a word with him," Lucius said. He placed the silver dial in his pocket and his hand rested on it for a couple of longing seconds, then he looked up quickly. "It's important."
(***)
"It's important."
"More important than our anniversary?"
Draco stuttered. It wasn't, was it? "I just have to go, now."
"You promised me." Astoria's voice broke off, but Draco knew she wouldn't shed a tear. "You said that you would drop this."
Draco decided to spill the beans about his theory on his father still practising dark magic to Astoria because Daphne saw him 'snooping' around her father's study. Astoria, though once wary of his father and his ideals, dismissed his theory straight away: 'He has already spent 18 months in prison after the war, do you really think he would want to go Azkaban again because of a stupid dial?', but Draco couldn't help but let his brain whirl. It was driving him mad.
Scenes from his less than innocent childhood flooded through his mind at night, which turned them more cynical; bitter. He wouldn't let his father destroy his life again.
"I told you I was going to the Manor to pick up something for mother; you know she doesn't really like going in there any more."
"Today, of all days!"
A sigh passed his lips, he collected any scrap of dignity he had left, and stared straight in his wife's eyes.
"I have to do this. I'll be back within the hour." Draco gave Astoria a quick kiss on the lips and, before she could argue any more, disappeared into emerald flames.
(***)
It was easy to locate his father in the Manor. Though his voice was muffled through the heavy wooden door, Draco was sure it was him. Though the smell of Firewhiskey instead of Elf-made wine threw him off slightly and he had a strange feeling that he was interrupting something quite important, his goal was still crystal clear: to kill his father.
Draco quickly, yet silently, navigated his way through the manor until he was at the 'secret' entrance to his father's study. The musky smell of mint reminded him of the Greengrass manor and then of Astoria. If she knew what she was doing, what would she think? Maybe that he was a great person, maybe even a hero, for cutting out the poison in the family. With this thought driving every other logical thought out of the window, he gripped his specially purchased and cursed dagger from his cloak and ran into the study.
Draco couldn't pinpoint the moment when the dagger stabbed through the heart or when the piercing screams became drilled into his mind, but it was like someone flicked a switch on in his mind and, instead of standing over his father's dead body, he was standing over Mr. Greengrass'.
Cold and unblinking eyes seemed to still look at him accusingly. It was shocking, the way his brain slowed right down, how heavy his limbs felt, how sticky Mr. Greengrass' blood felt on his fingers…
The sound of rushing footsteps dragged Draco from his distant, and surprisingly calm thoughts and quickened his beating heart. He had just killed someone. Not just anyone; Astoria's father. Hands shaking, Draco started to stagger backwards, hitting various objects until he bumped into a solid wall.
"Draco! Draco!" The office door flew open and a relieved looking Astoria stumbled in. "Draco, there you are. You – dad-Dad?" Astoria didn't have to spend more than a minute, unlike Draco, to realise that she was staring at her father's dead corpse.
"Dad? Dad! Dad!" Astoria was on the ground in seconds cradling her father's body. "Dr-Dra-Draco, what happened?" Draco's body went numb to the sound of Astoria's sobs and the dagger, that he didn't he know he was still holding, clattered to the floor. Astoria's eyes darted, wide and unbelieving, from Draco, to the dagger, to her father and she started to sputter. "You? What? I don't, you killed him? Why? Why would you do this!" Astoria's sobs became hysterical and when he tried to even take a step towards her she started mumbling, quickly and irrationally.
"Astoria, I-I didn't mean, I wasn't suppose to-"
"Draco?" Lucius stood in the doorway, his face ghostly pale to the scene on the floor. "What did you do?" Doubt started to pour into Draco's mind, burning every last shred of his confidence. "Draco!" He wasn't practising dark magic. "Draco, what did you do?" What did I do? Draco reacted quickly to his father drawing his wand at him and disapparated in a flash. I was about to kill my father….for nothing. Draco just knew, simply by looking into his father's eyes, that he wasn't into dark magic. 'Dark' eyes were normally full of anger, hate, deceit, but all Draco saw was disbelief and the rising wave of betrayal.
(***)
Astoria Malfoy née Greengrass is found dead at the Greengrass Manor just two weeks after the death of her father, Augustus Greengrass. The 21 year-old was said to have been battling with depression after the sudden death of Augustus after her husband murdered him, seemingly, out of the blue–
Draco scrunched up the battered Daily Prophet article and burned it with a flick of his wand. He didn't want to finish reading it; he couldn't finish reading it. Astoria, his wife, friend, soul-mate, dead. It wasn't real for him, for her to be dead. They were supposed to be living their lives out together, growing older, and having children, and raising their children. Dreams and hopes dashed because of one moment.
He had only been on the run for a fortnight and already he didn't have the fight to carry on. He was ready to greet death like an old friend. Sometimes Draco wondered if the silver dial that had helped to burn a snake into his skin was now burning his soul. Turning him into an unmistakable pile of ash.
Team: Montrose Magpies
Position: Beater (2)
Prompts:
(word) deceit
(word) burning
Word Count: 1538