Disclaimer: Not mine, JK Rowling's
Okay, this story setting might sound a little weird for you, but I promise that it's self explanatory though it might kind of get confusing at some parts because I've tried to follow the epilogue, but there were a few snags. Ron married Lavender, and Harry's first born wasn't James, but twins, Rose and Albus, James and Lily are younger than they are and aren't mentioned in this story.
I wrote it at, like, 3 in the morning before I promptly passed out. So please, bear with me, and I hope that you'll like it.
Oh, and, by the way, I've had some reviews before commenting on my profanity use (in my other fic, Wedding Monologue), but I just want to place dialogues as realistically as possible, hence the myriad of curse words. Let's face it, we've all had our phases where curse words were said frequently. I think the characters do, too. So I'm sorry for not following your request, but I don't really think that curse words ruin stories, or that it's 'a mark of a poor writer' as you say.
Pensieve
Six
There are days when Father acts like all my other friends' dads do. He would smile at me without any trace of sadness and look like me as if I was actually part of his happiness. He would laugh at my jokes and we'd prank the house elves together. He would teach me Quidditch and talk about the games he had watched, all the famous players that he had met and talked too. His eyes would shine and every trace of his ever present sadness would evaporate, well, except maybe when he talks about Viktor Krum. He hates Krum.
There are days when he would read me stories, tuck me in and kiss me good night. He would actually hug me back and kiss me on my forehead. It was weird—being hugged and kissed—but I can't exactly say that I hated it. Every act of affection that Father gave me was already so rare; I always make a point in accepting it.
There would also be moments when he would pick me up and tell me about Her. He'd sit me on his lap and wrap his arms around me, just like every other father does with their kids. He'd cuddle me and tease me and hug me. These were the moments where I would receive the most affection. I guess Her was kind of the heroine of the bed time stories my father tells me. I've asked him time and time again to change Her into a boy, but he never agrees. He says that She(maybe Her's nickname or something, he uses it sometimes) would always be a girl. After a while, I gave up. I'd rather hear about a weird girl who likes overgrown Bucket Chicken than make Father stop spending time with me. He does so little as it is. And I'm lucky that he even notices me. So I learned to shut my mouth and listen, because how else would I get my Father to talk to me?
Her loved books and apparently liked keeping buffoons as friends; which isn't really weird once you hear the story about her saving Bucket Chicken and a Werewolf Professor. Her loved books as much as she loved being a goaty-too-shoo (or whatever it is my Father says). Her was someone that my father adored. He's never said so, but I'm six and I'm smart and I can tell these kinds of things. Why else would he bother telling me about Her if he didn't?
Once, I asked if Her was my mother. He said, in a really sad voice, "I wish". I wish. But you can't just wish your parents away, right? Believe me, I tried. I love my Father but I wish that he was the kind of father who would love me back. Maybe that's how you use 'I wish' in a sentence. It's something you say when what you want could never be true. Her would never be my mother and Father would never love me. Smart, aren't I; to figure that all out. But back then, I was much more naïve and I asked him what he meant. He immediately shut up and pushed me off his lap, pulling my blanket over me and left without a word. He didn't talk to me again for a month after that.
So I never asked him again.
But it didn't matter. I found out who my mother was on my fifth birthday. She was tall and pretty and smelled like a girl. And I know that I'm supposed to like her, but I didn't. Mother's voice hurt my ears and she'd bring me toys that were boring. I'd rather have brooms and books, but I guess she never really bothered asking if I liked her presents, and I never bothered telling her.
I used to hate it when she visited after that birthday, and I hated it. She hated crooks, our cat who my Father says is as old as death, but I really don't know who death is, and crooks is pretty old, so maybe death is old, too. Mother says that crooks was annoying, and that we should get rid of him. Father says that Crooks stays, because he's less of a beach than my mother was, if that even makes sense. Father loves Crooks, even sometimes saying that he's going to outlive us all. Maybe that's why mother hates him so much, because he loves a cat mor than he loves her. Or me. But I don't mind. Crooks is adorable. That's why I hate it when mother visits, but as with almost everything in my life, I got used to it. Mostly because she'd annoy father enough to make him transfer all his hate from me to mother instead. After mother's visits he'd usually act normal, and I would love every second of it.
Some days, he'd bring me to Her's house. It's miniscule, really; just a room in a place full of other single-room houses. There was a very hard-looking bed on the corner and pictures of her everywhere. There were flowers everywhere, but not much else. It smelled like jasmine. Her was never there, though. I only know that it was Her's house because I once asked Father about the person who lived there, and he said She does. It was tiny, but it smelled nice. I prefer the manor though, with the house elves who played with me and Father who sometimes did once every month.; twice, if I'm lucky.
"Father, isn't Her lonely here?" I remembered asking, I was smaller then, since I'm a very big boy now, but I remember it clearly because I'm smart.
"Use 'She', Scorp." Father corrected, holding my hand tighter as he started to cry. It was a weird sight, seeing someone as big and strong as him cry, but he always did when we visited Her's house. "And yes, I think she's lonely. Won't you be if you lived in such a tiny place like this?"
I nodded, agreeing wholeheartedly. "Then why doesn't she move to the Manor with us? I could make Libby clean one of the rooms for her."
Father chuckled. "I bet She'd love that, but She can't move in with us."
"Why?"
"Because she can't."
"Oh."
I never bothered asking why again, mostly because I was afraid that Father would stop talking to me again, but also partly because I wasn't sure if the manor had any of those hard, square beds. I bet that's why she couldn't move in to us.
But part of me still wished that she would, though.
Father would probably be happier if Her was around.
Eleven
On my first day at Hogwarts, both Father and Mother were there to see me off. It was a miracle on its own right, because they could barely stand each other's presence, let alone talk and interact like every other normal human beings do. But they were divorced, so they had an excuse to act like Neanderthals around each other.
Father pointed out a pretty girl with hair so red that you could practically see it glow and really bright, corn flower blue eyes.
"See that girl, Scorp?" Father asked when mother was flirting shamelessly with another parent, placing a foreign hand on my shoulder. After all these years, affection still bothered me, mostly because I was starved of it as a child. No one could really blame my parents, though. They were insane in their own ways. Father's a cold hearted introvert who's hung up with a woman that wasn't my mother. And Mother's got a penchant for 'humping and dumping' as my father once put it, everything that had two legs and a sizable fortune. "Red hair, freckles, blue eyes?"
"Yeah." I answered, noticing that her parents were glaring at us, or, more specifically, at Father. "What about her."
"Stay away from her and her twin." Father said, quite darkly. At the mention of her twin, my attention shifted around her and saw that there was a dark-haired boy with the same corn-flower blue eyes standing near her. "Rose and Albus Potter. Potter's probably trained his children to hate you, so watch your back, okay?"
"Why would they hate me?"
"Because their father hates your father's guts for stealing his best friend, Her—" My mother butted in, smirking at the two of us before father cut her off with a menacing glare. We Malfoy men were good at that, commanding attention and giving glares. I probably mastered it before I learned how to walk.
"Her?" I asked, before Father could open his mouth, probably to insult mother. "Isn't she the girl from all your stories? The one with the beaver teeth, alien hair, and was friends with two buffoons?"
"Don't be daft, son." Mother said, smirk back in place, pinching my cheeks as if she thought I was cute. Ew, the nerve of this woman. "I'm, talking about Hermione Granger. Your father's been smitten about her since the day she slapped his arrogance off."
"Stop talking about Granger, you stupid bint." Father growled, eyes growing cold.
Mother just ignored him and continued talking to me, smirking even wider. "Granger was your father's arch nemesis. They acted like five-year-olds with petty grudges every time they interact. You could hear them screaming and hexing each other from Hogsmeade. It was hilarious. Rumor has it that they were having one of those secret trysts –don't ask what that is, you're not old enough yet—and because of that, Potter and the entire Weasley clan hates his guts. Even more so than they already did."
"Shut up, Astoria." Father said voice deep and threatening. "You've told him enough nonsense. The boy just needs to learn to stay clear of the Potter children. He doesn't need to know the blow-by-blow account of everything that happened."
"So you're not denying that you've been secretly shagging—that's adult speak for kissing, Scorpious, and don't repeat it around your teachers, please—Granger everywhere during your seventh year."
"What I'm saying is that you're ridiculous, as is everything coming out from your stupid mouth."
"Mother, Father!" I said, shouting over the din and fighting to be heard. "You're at it again."
"It's not my fault that she's insufferable." Father snorted, schooling his expression to neutral, just as Mother did the same.
"You hate each other, I get it, but please, just please act like your age for once? We're in public, you know." I said seriously, looking up at the two of them. Honestly, sometimes, they acted worse than children.
"I gave birth to a bloody forty-year-old." I heard my mother grumble, glaring at me but calming down.
"Tell me about it." Father said, crossing his arms.
I raised my eyebrow at them, but otherwise ignored their remarks."So, back to this Granger girl, whatever happened to her?"
There was silence. Or, as much silence as you could ever get in a packed train station. Tension crackled in the air as I observed as my father's calm façade crumble and fall, making way for an expression that I had never once seen on him, except maybe on the trips to Her's house. But I was a kid back then, and the visits and stories ended when I was eight. I could barely remember the faces on the pictures, much less how my father acted.
He frowned, struggling to reign in his emotions, as he bent down to hug me tightly. It was uncomfortable, but I returned the hug. Then, he brought his cheek closer to mine and whispered, in a broken voice that made my eyes go wide, "She's dead."
The train whistled then, and he let go off me, ushering me off to board the scarlet engine, and, as I looked back, I glanced at his face.
It was the first time I could ever remember my father look so broken.
Sixteen
"Rose, stop touching my hair." I grumbled, brushing away her fingers as I struggled to focus on my current book, adjusting my head on her lap as I struggled to avoid her soothing fingers. It wasn't that it was annoying, or uncomfortable, it was opposite that, actually, and it made me feel warm enough to sleep, which was something that I wasn't supposed to do because I was already failing History of Magic as it is. "I'm reading."
"But it's so soft and girly and where else would I put my hand when that big head of yours is on my lap?" She quipped, refusing to remove her soft fingers from my head as she continued to read on.
"I don't know, just somewhere else." I grumbled. "You know that it makes me really sleepy."
"You're always sleepy."
"That's not the point."
"Fine." I said, sighing as she continued to pull at my hair. "If I fail this exam because you made me fall asleep, I'd ask father to stop sending me red velvet cupcakes."
Her hand froze. I smirked. She loved my cupcakes.
Grumbling slightly, she lifted her hand and pushed my head off her lap. "You can't rest your head on my lap then."
"That's unfair!" I protested, sitting up and glaring at her.
"And so is blackmailing me."
"But I'm in Slytherin, I'm kind of required to use blackmail as my daily language."
"And I'm in Ravenclaw, I'm kind of required to be reading a book bigger than my head as a daily habit, but you don't see me lugging those around." She scoffed.
I rolled my eyes, saying, "That's because you don't need it. It's all right there." I leaned in closer, smirking it her as I tapped her forehead. "Right in that big genius head of yours."
"I think that you're the only person who could act as if intelligence was a bad thing." She said, pushing me away, still glaring, but I could see that she was shivering slightly.
We were sitting in front of the lake then, lying on the cold February grass and surrounded by willows. It was our safe place, but it still wasn't enough to keep us safe from the cold. Smirking slightly, I handed her my scarf, wrapping it tightly around her slender neck. "You're cold again, how many times have I told you to bring your own scarf? I'm running out of it already. And as for the intelligence thing, I'm pretty sure your brother would, too."
"Speaking of my annoying brother, where is he?"
"Last time I saw him, it was in the repeat History of Magic class we had with the other Slytherins. I have NEWT –Level Potions after and he had to go to Care of Magical Creatures with the other sixth year Slytherins."
"He's probably snogging Blair Zabini as we speak." She said, snorting at the mention of Al's new girlfriend. "Speaking of sluts, where's your other half of the Whoresome Twosome?"
"Miss Potter, do you kiss your mother with that mouth?" I said, laughing. She had a mouth that could put sailors to shame, it was amusing. "Blake's not a slut, you know, and we're just friends."
"Just friends my arse." She mumbled, sticking her tongue out at me and throwing a bunch of grass at my direction. "Speaking of my mother, she says she wants you over for Easter break."
"Sure, but I have to check with Father." I shrugged, brushing off the pieces of dirt and throwing it back at her. "You know how that he's still in shock about the three of us being friends, let alone spending breaks together."
"I know, right? Dad still gets this disbelieving look whenever Al or I mention you." She said, snorting as she lay down the grass again, and I followed suit. "Six years of us being inseparable and he's still surprised. I think we gave him a heart attack when we first mentioned befriending you."
"Same with Father." I chuckled. "He actually talked to me. Bought me to St. Mungos, even."
"But at least mum likes you." Rose said, laughing.
"Like me? Your mother absolutely adores me." I said, smirking at her. "She'd adopt me the minute I say so."
"The scary part about that is that she probably would."
"It's part of the Malfoy charm."
"Malfoy charm? Have you ever even talked to your dad?" she said sarcastically, and something stabbed at my chest.
The light, fluffy atmosphere suddenly evaporated. Looking away, I said, "Not for the past year, no."
"Scorp… I didn't mean to. I was just…" She said, trying to struggle for words as she stared at me with her corn flower blues.
"It's alright, Rose," I said softly, smiling sadly at her. "It's just that it's got me worried. I'm used to going months without him even looking at me, but it's been more than a year now. He didn't even look at me when I told him about being invited to do all those advanced NEWT classes. He just stays in his room with Crooks all day. Believe me, I'm used to being outranked by a cat and the coldness and shit, but it still worries me. He looks sadder, if that could even be more possible."
She took my hand in hers, and squeezed it gently. "It's going to be okay, Scorp. It's just a phase. He's bound to surface soon enough. Remember third year? You got worried over nothing. I'm sure that it's the same right now."
"Maybe." I said, shrugging and reveling silently at the comforting presence of her hand around mine. "I'm just curious, though. Remember the pensieve that I told you about? He disappeared in it for three days last summer. If the house elves weren't around to wrench him free every other day, I think he would have lived in that annoying old bowl."
"Have you ever seen the memories? It's bound to be important, if he keeps reliving them."
"Nope, he keeps it in his en suite bathroom. The only time that I've ever seen it was when Libby accidentally side along apparated me to it when she was bringing him his food." I sighed. "But I'm pretty sure about who he keeps wanting to see in them."
"Is it Her?" she whispered.
"I think so." I said, "Probably memories about her."
"Your life is shit." Rose stated, honestly and bluntly, but her hand squeezed mine harder. Her eyes were bright, and they held no malice whatsoever in them. She was just stating her opinion, plainly, and in the only way that she could. It was one of the things that I liked about her. She was honest to the point of rudeness, but it was refreshing, and it made me feel the teensiest bit better.
"I know." I replied, tearing my gaze away from her corn flower orbs and into the dreary February sky. And we settled into a familiar comfortable silence. The rest of the world moving in slow motion around us, not able to reach us in our safe place. The universe and its woes were a trillion miles away, and all that mattered was that Rose and I were right here. Existing. Joined by our hands and in ways that neither of us can explain. Nothing else mattered. Just me and her and maybe Al who was somewhere snogging his girlfriend. It was peace. It was bliss. It was perfect.
So of course Rose had to open her mouth and say something to ruin the moment. "I hope that we had a clue about her identity."
"I think… I might." I said softly, not quite willing to let go of the calm just yet. And with mind drifting lazily around, I ended up recalling a conversation my parents and I had years ago. I had already forgotten about it, but remembering seeing my father's broken look made me recall it. "Mother once told me about someone once, someone she said was shagging—her word, not mine—my father all over the place. I didn't think anything about it before, since I chucked it to them being their insufferable selves, but I'm pretty sure that she was telling the truth, what with Father acting all weird after that particular exchange."
"So you think that this girl might be Her?"
"Yeah. Someone named Graner? Gardner? I can't really remember." I said, replying, trying to fish out the memory that was eluding me. "Mother said she was your Father's best friend."
"No." Rose said, sitting up abruptly, her eyes widening into saucers. "Don't tell me that it was Hermione Granger!"
"That's it!" I said, sitting up with her. "Did your parents ever tell you about her?"
"Tell me about her? They practically have a shrine built for her!" Rose exclaimed. "Remember the room that we couldn't unlock, even with Alohomora? That's where Mum and Dad keeps her stuff. I went in there last Christmas break to help mum fix it up a bit. The room's full of books, and had a shit load of muggle and wizarding pictures. I asked about her, and Mum said that she was practically the reason why they named me Rose instead of Lily. Dad and Mum and Uncle Ron had some silly pact that they made when they were all zonked one night that they'd name their female kids after flowers. It's stupid, I know, but apparently, Aunt Hermione loved the name Rose."
"So that's why your names are all flowers?" I said, smiling slightly. "I thought it was just something your Aunt Lavender forced your Uncle Ron and Dad to do."
She nodded vigorously. She was slightly breathless after her babbling, and she looked quite adorable, sitting there cheeks flushed and corn flower eyes ablaze. It took me a moment to process everything that she said, but when I did, I was in awe.
"Woah. They certainly took their friendship to a whole new level." I commented, not knowing what to say about any of the the other bits.
"They probably would have married me and my brother off to her children if she had any. I'm lucky that Camellia, Hyacinth, Iris and Veronica are all girls, or I would have probably hitched and engaged before my first birthday." Rose snorted. and I felt a pang of something dark explode inside my chest. it was familiar, and it came up whenever Rose mention males and implied dating. Maybe it was some sort of allergic reaction towards her getting involved with anyone. It was stupid, but I was used to it, so I ignored it. "Dad says that Uncle Ron was smitten with her when they were kids. He was also pretty sure that they'd end up together, but something weird happened in their seventh year."
"Mother said that Father's affair with Hermione started at pretty much the same time."
"Woah."
"Double woah." he said, smirking at her awed expression.
"If she had survived the war and married your Dad, then we would be engaged before we could even walk." Rose said, laughing slightly, and weirdly enough, I wasn't repulsed with the idea of being promised to Rose, my best friend, one-third of our Platinum Trio, my best friend's sister, the girl who puked on my shoes and called me a girl on the first night of our first year. Rose, who loved to hit me and use curse words that my Father, if he would ever be bothered to get to know her, would applaud. Rose, who loved muggle telly and whose dirtiest secret was that she'd let Duane Thomas get to second base when she was pissed drunk after our OWL exams (needless to say Duane found himself in the Hospital wing the next day, with a broken arm and bloody boils all over his body, courtesy of Al and I). Rose, who was just Rose.
It was weird, finding out that I wasn't even the least bit adverse the idea of marrying her.
"Scorp, earth to Scorp." She said, waving her hand in front of my face. "Mate, you alright?"
"Of course I am," I said, shrugging off my thoughts. "I was just thinking. it seems weird, though, for Father to like Hermione when from the stories I heard that your parents told you, he was pretty much the bane of your Father's- and in extension, Hermione's- existence."
Rose shrugged, giving me a lopsided grin. "Who knows? Maybe it wasn't true. And if it was, then maybe it was love. Maybe that's why your dad's like that. Maybe he misses her too much."
"Maybe." I said, returning my gaze towards the sky again, imagining what it would have been like if this Hermione person had survived the war. How did she die, if she was the Savior of the Wizarding World's best friend? And if father had really been involved with her, then wasn't fate a tad bit too cruel? Merlin knows how much Father needed someone to keep him sane, much less human. Maybe the Granger girl, Her, did that- kept father human. Maybe that's why he acts like a shell of a person, because what's important, what was inside him, was dead.
Maybe. Maybe. Maybe.
I would most likely never know.
Twenty One
"Scorp-ee-yous! Albie! Can you believe it? We're university graduates!" Rose hollered from beside me, brandishing her bottle of fire whiskey around.
"No more boring lectures! No more death-inducing exams! We're free! Free, free, free, free, freeee!" Al shouted from my right, sloshing some of his drink into my lap, for some stupid reason, I found this incredibly funny.
I laughed gaily with the two of them, revelling in how the alcohol made my flat's wall quiver and dance. "Free!" I agreed heartily, laughing again as Rose pulled us both in for a hug.
"Today was amazing!" She slurred, grinning at us. "Everything was absolutely puur-fect!"
"It was!" Al hiccuped, taking another swig. And I instantly felt my happy mood slipping away.
"Father didn't come again, though." I slurred dejectedly, taking another drink.
"That's all right, Scorp!" Al said, shouting again and almost blowing my ear off. "He can come again next time!"
"There is no next time, you neanderthal," Rose said, thumping her bottle on her brother's head. It didn't do much damage. It took more than a bottle to get through Al's thick head- believe me, we've tried. "Graduation only comes around once, you know!"
"Oh, right." Al said, rubbing his head. And his face lit up in a way that always made me want to knock him on the head again, it was his usual I-Thinking-Of-Doing-Something-That-Could-Get-Us-Sent-To-Azkaban look, and I, as drunk as I was, had the sense to not be amused. "What if we visit him?"
"He didn't attend my graduation, what makes you think that he'd want to see us?" I shriedked at him, standing up slowly because the world was spinning.
"It's a great idea, Scorp!" Rose said, standing up only to fall towards me. I caught her clumsily, and we both fell to the floor.
Albus shouted, "Group hug!" And promptly tackled us harder into the floor.
Merlin, I needed new friends.
I shrugged the two of them off, and was cast a sobering charm on myself. But before I could get the two of them, they had stolen my wand and had me sprawled on the floor again, with Al sitting on my back. "Come on Scorp, don't be such a spoil sport!"
"Yeah, come on don't be such a kill joy, Scor-pee-yous!"
Wonderful. I shouldn't have sobered myself up. I could stand their whining better when I'm just as smashed as they were.
"No."
"Please?"
"No."
"Albie Walbie and Rosie Posie promise to be good!" Rose said, flicking hair off my eyes and giggling like a nuthead.
"We do, we do!" Albus said, seconding the motion, his skinny ass digging into my back painfully.
"I told you guys, no." I said, gritting my teeth.
An hour later, we were in my father's house, creeping up the steps while Rose and Al made me lead them to my Father's bedroom's en suite bathroom. I was in thick ropes, with a makeshift gag stopping me from cursing their eyeballs out. They were making a racket. My father must have taken one of his sleeping potions, or else the three of us would have probably been dead from the curses from his wand by now.
Once we arrived, they sat me on the floor, looking for the pensieve. I honestly didn't know how a conversation about graduating led to me being kidnapped by my two best friends. But weirdes things have happened while they were drunk, and I wasn't really surprised.
"Found it!" Rose sang, pulling out the pensieve.
"Al made me stand up, taking off my gag as we stood in front of the bowl. "You guys are so dead,"
"Yeah, yeah shut up Malfoy," Rose answered. "You'll wake-"
"Daddy dearest and-"
"You wouldn't want that to happen, now-"
"Don't you?"
"Guys, the creepy sentence talking is a no-no, remember?" I said, referring to their uncanny ability to talk like they had a single mindwave. They always did it when they were pissed drunk. It was disconcerting, and seriously creepy.
"Sorry-"
"We can't-"
"Help it."
"You're doing it again," I said indignantly, and I saw them doing their two way mind reading. I sent a silent plead towards Crooks, who was watching us from the back of the room, but the traitor just continued licking his paws. I figured that in four, maybe five seconds, I would be in the middle of some deep shit.
"Guys-" I barely managed to get out before I felt their hands on my back, pushing me into the pensieve.
When I opened my eyes, I saw one of the prettiest girls that I have ever seen. She wasn't as striking as Rose though, but she was pretty in her own, quiet way. Something about her told him that she was intelligent, maybe even more than him or Rosie.
She was seated on the window seat of the Head's dorm (he recognized the place because he had been Head Boy, together with Rosie) and her nose was burried in a book that looked as if it was heavier than she was.
Suddenly, she looked up, and stared straight at him, in a voice that was so full of contempt and a scornful expression foreign on her naturally angelic face. "Malfoy."
For a second, he panicked, thinking that she was talking to me, but I turned and I saw father glaring at her. He looked young, younger than I was, but he looked exactly like I did when I was in second year.
"Mudblood." He spat vehemently, and I looked at my memory-father aghast. He used the M-word.
But the girl was unfazed, seemingly used to the insult. How evil could the world have been, if someone as delicate looking at her was unfazed by hearing such horror. I know that you'd have to face a lot of shit before you become immune to it. She turned her attention back to her book, mumbling, "Whatever you say, blonde ferret."
Ferret? I looked back at my father, and noticed that all the hate was gone and his face had gone slack, staring at the girl with something akin to adoration.
Colors suddenly changed and faded and exploded, all at the same time, like paint when you mix it with water. It was a blur, for a few minutes, until I saw the same girl, crying her eyes out and father looming over her, whispering things that didn't look quite as hateful as their past conversation did.
"Your idiot friends bother you again, Granger?"
"Shut up, Malfoy."
"How could I? Stop those tears, I don't like it when you cry."
"You've never had problems making me bawl before." The girl said, shrugging, as my father sat on the floor beside her.
"That's because I was the one doing the damage. You have to remember that I'm do only one allowed to bully you, alright?"
"You're an ass."
"But a handsome ass. Don't let them get to you." Father said, joking and he managed to get the girl to smile. And he smiled back.
I've never seen him smile bigger.
Colors changed again, and they weren't in the dorms anymore, they were in a cabin, with father lying on the bed with bandages covering his body. The girl was sitting beside him, a worried expression plastered to her face.
"Worried about me, Granger?" He said playfully, in a tone that I hadn't heard in years.
"As if, Malfoy." The brunette snorted, but her face betrayed her. Yes, she was quite worried about father.
"You are." Father said gleefully, slipping on the famous Malfoy smirk.
"Am not." She huffed. Glaring at him before her eyes softened as she said, "Why did you save me?"
"Because you looked pathetic, sitting there all imprisoned and scared." Father replied, and even though I couldn't understand what he was talking about, I instinctually knew that he was lying.
It seemed as if the girl did, too, because she brushed out his hair from his eyes and said, in a voice barely above a whisper, "Thank you."
Colors swirled and we were on a rocky out crop somewhere, the two of them were talking, pointing at the stars as lovers would. It was weird, seeing the look of longing on Father's face, but before I could muster enough nerve to come closer and listen in to their conversation, a jet of purple light whizzed through the night sky.
The scene changed again, and this time, the girl was floating in the air, with father writhing on the ground, arms outstretched towards her form. I looked at the scene in horror. Father was a crumpled mess on the ground, all torn up and bloody, but that didn't stop him from reaching towards her. She was screaming as she floated higher and higher until she was just a speck against the endless night sky, more out of reach then ever, and a sickly, high pitched maniacal voice said from behind me, chilling me to my core.
"Fall for the mudblood, didn't you, little Draco? Did you, you stupid boy?" The screams of the girl could still be heard, even though she was hundreds of feet above us. "Let's return the favor, then, let's make her fall for you."
Then with a maniacal cackle, the witch lowered her wand and the girls body fell towards the ground, twitching, with her hair streaming behind her. There was a sickening crack as she landed mere feet away from my father, who was cursing and crying and acting like you would, too, if you would ever see someone you care for die right in front of you.
Her arms and legs were bent at an awkward angle, but somehow, she was alive. She lifted her arm, reaching towards father, as she gave him a smile. A serene smile that ne only wears when they're about to die.
I heard the maniac shout, Avada Kedavra, just as the said, "I love you."
I was wrenched from the pensieve by my friends arms, and maybe something about the horror in my eyes made them shut up about their questions about what I've seen.
I had just watched my father fall in love.
And I watched as he watched the love of his life die in front of him.
No wonder father was bonkers, I would be, too, if that ever happened to me.
Twenty Six
The aurors say that they found the letter near Father's pensieve bowl. The magical community had erupted with the news of the death of the Malfoy family patriarch. Aurors had been immediately called to the scene, fearing that dark magic was involved in the poisoning of Draco Malfoy. But their search led them to the letter instead. The letter that I was now clutching in my hands. The letter addressed to me.
"Al's on his way." Rose said from beside me, still dressed in her pyjamas and sleep still weighing down her eyes. We were in her flat, and I had just arrived, coming directly from the Auror office. It was already about one a.m. and I was sure that if I hadn't looked so helpless, Rose would have thrown me out with a proper ear bashing for disturbing her beauty sleep. "Are you going to read it?"
"I... I don't know." I said hoarsely, still not believing that this was all happening. He was finally going back to normal, and then bam, Libby finds him on his bed with a bottle of poison on the floor. It was all too surreal. Reading the letter would satisfy my gnawing curiosity, but at the same time, it would confirm that my Father was truly dead and gone, and it was a thing too big to comprehend now. "Rose?"
"Yes, Scorp?" She answered, her voice as quiet as mine. We sat on the couch, still and silent, trying not to wake up the dead.
"You're a girl, right?"
"Grief is making you stupid." She snorted, but her eyes remained soft. Watching me intently with those cornflower blues.
I ignored her jab and continued, "Then you must be good with emotions. Is it normal? Not feeling anything?"
She looked uncomfortable, but she reached out to hold my hand, intertwining our fingers in a way that only familiarity could. "You and I both know that Al's the drama queen in our trio...but, if it helps. I think it is-being numb. At least at first. But you have to face it sometime soon, preferably now, because the longer you leave it alone, the longer it's going to burn you.
I nodded, and she hugged me, letting me rest my tearless face on her shoulder. I inhaled her relaxing scent, reveling in the comfort that she could always give me. "I'm going to have to read the letter soon, don't I?"
"Better sooner than later," she said, nodding her head.
I pulled away, kissing her temple, before saying, "Read it with me?"
And we did.
Scorpius,
Let me start by saying that you were the best son any father could have had. You never complained when I was too stuck in my own problems to give you the proper care you deserved. You never gave up on me, even when I already gave up on this world. You're strong and you're brave. Two of the things I could have never hoped to be.
I'm sorry for letting you down.
If you're reading this, then it means that I'm already gone. But son, understand that the prospect of dying makes me happy. I have always accepted that my existence in this world was borrowed, and that I am merely here to take care of you. I might not have been the best caretaker in the world, but I couldn't leave you to grow up with that bitch you call mother. She would have wanted me to stay with you, so I did.
You made my life more bearable, seeing you grow up and become independent is a gift in itself. I am proud of you. Remember that, Scorpious. No one is as proud of you as I am. And it is an honor to be called your father.
I know that you've secretly wished for another father, and I'm sorry that you had to bear with all my flaws and misgivings. You had to grow up faster than the rest of your peers. I never gave you all the love and affection that you needed, and for that, I'm sorry. A thousand and one times sorry.
But, in my defense, I was struggling to not let myself get pulled under by the horrors of war. Your generation is lucky to not have to experience half of what we've been through. You're lucky to not have to lose half of what I have lost.
I hope that you'd find someone who you could never live without-and, if my suspicions are true, which they usually are, all you have to do is look beside you- and have the good fortune of growing old with them, experiencing life with them, and I hope that you'd never find out what it's like to live without them. Because, believe me, no matter how much you could pretend to move on and try to forget, you never would. not with Her never with Her. And I think you deserve to know who Her is.
Her name was Hermione Granger. And son, she was beautiful.
You've probably seen how everything played out in my pensieve (of course I was aware with you acting like the damn drunk fools you were and breaking into my bathroom, I experienced living with Voldemort himself, remember?) and guessed who she really was.
She was unique, and ever since I became aware of her, truly aware, I was smitten. She was feisty, uncouth, dangerously beautiful, annoyingly smart, and absolutely forbidden, of course I was attracted to her. More so than I had ever cared to admit. I thought that she was going to drive me mad, but instead, she was the one who kept me sane despite experiencing all the horrors that I've been through in the war. She took me in her arms, even though I had been horrible to her, and made me see that the world could be a better place. I needed her like how I needed air to breathe, and when she died, it was no wonder that I was good as dead.
They killed her, son. They killed her in front of me, to teach me that she wasn't worth the pain. But she was. She always was. And with her death, my dreams were also killed. I am not ashamed to say that I tried to take my life after seeing her lifeless, after losing her in the most permanent kind of way. But it didn't work. Fate is cruel. Fate is a bitch. I couldn't die-not until I've spouted out an heir, apparently. And that's the reason why I married your mother. You were conceived because I wanted a way out. I wanted to die. But, instead, seeing you, carrying you in my arms, you didn't give me a chance to escape this life. You gave me a reason to live.
You were always my reason to live. And in my heart, you hold as big a piece as my Hermione ever did. I love you.
And now, you're all grown up, and you don't need me any more. I've done my duty. Kept you away from the evil of this world (i.e. Your mother) and gave you a life-which may not have been the best- but a life of relative comfort, nonetheless. I hope you don't take my death against me. Please understand that I've lived twenty-six years too long. Twenty six long years without her. I'm sorry if I forced you to grow up with a never there father. I remember that. I had once neglected you so much that you thought that you were part house elf. As hilarious as that was, it made me realize that I sucked as a father.
But I love you anyway.
The love of my life died without knowing that I adored her more than she ever could imagine. She didn't know how important she was to me. She was dead before I could ever tell her I love her.
Don't do the same. Act now. Tell her before it's too late.
Yours,
Father
p.s. Feed the annoying, overgrown kneazle. It was Her's.
*insert utterly shameless review begging here*