Strangers

Summary: Their marriage is not what it once was. He is confused, while she is lost.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to Harry Potter.

Part I :: Torn Pieces

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It was always a blonde or a brunette, but never a redhead. Sometimes he would muse over the reasons for this, and every time he did, he would try and refrain from acknowledging the real reason. It was, for the same reason, that the said blondes and brunettes never had brown eyes, always shades of green, hazel, or blue even.

He knew it was technically wrong, and such a thing to cause gossip. He knew that he should be home, staying with his wife, being with his children, living the happy life that not so long ago they had fought so hard for.

But he couldn't. He had closed himself off, so much, that he knew it was too late to change anything, too late to get them back, get her back. Instead, he drowned his sorrows and mistakes in the company of another every other night, not coming home until the fine hours of the morning.

He made sure that no one ever got wind of what exactly was going on with the Malfoy family, but it appeared almost seemingly impossible, yet he managed. Though, the one person he wished he could have kept his misconceptions from, already knew.

Sometimes, whenever he looked back on the memory of her moving out of their adjoining room, into another, in the opposite wing of the house, it almost seemed to him that she was giving her blessing to continue with his rowdy behavior, which, of course, he did.

The thing that must have unnerved him most of all, was that she appeared to not even care. She carried on her days with their children. Spending her time reading to them, or teaching their five-year-old daughter how to ride a broom, or even helping their fifteen-year-old son finally beat his Uncle Ron in Wizarding Chess, but she never acknowledged, let alone yelled at him for his behavior.

All she ever did was leave their room.

The two of them seemed more and more like strangers as time went on. They barely spoke, and put on a large façade for everyone. A mirage that perceived everything was indeed alright with the Malfoy's. That was the only time the two were ever physically touching each other.

She would have her arm linked through his, a dazzling, but false smile planted on her face. He would smirk slightly, pulling her a little bit closer, giving them all the illusion that they were happy. Other than that, she never let him touch her, and he never tried to, half the time not knowing why.

It almost didn't seem real to him, this on-going, faulty, double life of his. He knew deep down that he had fallen short. While he might have been one of the most intelligent wizards, he had failed at everyday life. Being disappointing as both a husband and father. He only took comfort in the fact that his daughter did not quite hate him as much as his son, in fact he was relieved to know that she didn't hate him at all, but he knew that eventually, one day she would.

She was a very pretty little thing. Maria Kylee Malfoy was very much the spitting image of her mother. Long, slightly wavy, dark red hair with smooth, light skin. In fact, the only thing she had inherited, physically, from her father, was her steely gray eyes. There was a very big difference between that of his eyes, and his daughter's. Maria was always smiling, and her eyes were always lit up, emotion flickering in their depths. His, on the other hand, were almost always cold, and hard, only in rare moments did they ever show a trace of emotion, one of these insistences being when his wife moved to the other side of the house.

His son, Jameson Draconis Malfoy, was the replica of his father, with sleek, platinum blonde hair, and handsome good looks, but he did not have his father's gray eyes, instead, he had his mother's warm, bright brown ones, something that James was grateful for, for he hated, actually resented the fact that he looked like his father, which pained Draco to say the least, but he never did voice his opinion to the boy. He figured there was no use to argue with him about something like that.

Draco did not have the best relationship with his son. They barely spoke. The main reason for this, was because James knew about his father's various "activities". He was a very smart boy, and did not like it at all.

Draco sighed, banishing these ever lingering thoughts, and tried to get back to doing some work. Starting to focus on the papers in front of him, Draco didn't even notice his reading glasses were tipped downwards, almost falling off his nose, and his eyes were blank, and unmoving.

At the sound of the door to his study opening, he glanced up, and found himself staring at his son.

James walked into the room, and almost immediately, Draco knew the boy's behavior was different. He had a serious look upon his face, and his eyes were not warm and caring, but hard and emotionless.

A trait he doubtlessly picked up from me, Draco mused.

The boy sat himself across from his father, and just stared at him, as if waiting for something.

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Author's Note - I decided to try something a bit new. Hope you all enjoyed the first part. There are three parts in all. Next chapter will be up within a week, depending on the response it gets. Please review, and let me know your thoughts.