(Disclaimer: Not mine, will never be. End of that story.)
Mothers day. By Qwerty.
It is again Mothers day and I'm once again thinking about you, my mother. In my mind I write you this letter but I know I will never send it or even write it on a scroll. It is just not done. Not by a Malfoy, at least.
You are my mother. So I love you or I should love you. And I do, I do love you. In one way or another. But maybe not.
I truly don't know anymore. I asked for your help so many times. But you never helped. Not when I had a little thing at school, you know the Granger thing, not when I was hurt because I fell of my broom. You didn't even care I was up there because I have to be the best. The best at every thing, even if it took me all I had.
And then when I am the best it is not good enough for you. It is not enough. Will I ever be good enough?
At least with father I know where I stand. I know that I have to follow him, have excellent grades and win with Quidditch. Even if I can't do all of this at least I get something if I succeed. At least he will give me even the slightest show of affection. Even if that only is a little twinkle in his eyes.
Potter is much better of. You know why? Because he doesn't have a mother. He can at least have some bloody romantic idea about how nice, loving and understanding his mother would be if she were still alive. He can imagine going to her when he fell and she would maybe kiss him and then tell him everything would be all right. He can pretend telling her about his day over tea or some stupid thing like that. It might be stupid but I never had that. And you know what they say, you want what you can never have. But I'm a Malfoy I ALWAYS get what I want.
Again, Potter has the best deal. He can hate the one who took his mother away from him. I have nothing to hate but you and I cannot hate you because you are my mother.
So I am left with nothing.
Because I still have you.
And I am therefore obligated to love you! But do I? I don't know, you hurt me too much on to many occasions.
It is not as if I wanted much. Not like Potter.
I don't need or want a mother hen.
All I want is for someone to love me enough to sometimes say that I did well or even good enough if that's all there is.
But no, you are just too busy with yourself to waste time on me, aren't you?
But it is again Mothers day and again I sent you a present with a card saying "I love you" even if I don't know if I do. The least I can do is pretend, if not for your or my sake than at least for Father because he does seem to care.
Father may ask a lot of me. Too much, perhaps. But that doesn't matter. I always find someway to make it happen, because I cunning, I am after all Slytheryn. Not A Slytheryn. No, I am the definition of what Slytheryn is and should be.
And again I owe all that to Father. Because he asked too much of me. Because he punished me if I wouldn't get even the most impossible thing done. But when I did do something good, he would reward me beyond words.
Do you know how?
No like you solve something. Not by buying me some stupid present. No, he would show me love with his eyes. You know that little twinkle he has lost for you so many years ago?
That alone would make it worth the work, the pain and the guilt. And you know what made it all worth it? He, sometimes, even came close to a genuine smile.
He loves me.
Why don't you? Do you blame me? For everything?
Whatever, just pretend, will you? For Father.
Love or what you will.
Mothers day. By Qwerty.
It is again Mothers day and I'm once again thinking about you, my mother. In my mind I write you this letter but I know I will never send it or even write it on a scroll. It is just not done. Not by a Malfoy, at least.
You are my mother. So I love you or I should love you. And I do, I do love you. In one way or another. But maybe not.
I truly don't know anymore. I asked for your help so many times. But you never helped. Not when I had a little thing at school, you know the Granger thing, not when I was hurt because I fell of my broom. You didn't even care I was up there because I have to be the best. The best at every thing, even if it took me all I had.
And then when I am the best it is not good enough for you. It is not enough. Will I ever be good enough?
At least with father I know where I stand. I know that I have to follow him, have excellent grades and win with Quidditch. Even if I can't do all of this at least I get something if I succeed. At least he will give me even the slightest show of affection. Even if that only is a little twinkle in his eyes.
Potter is much better of. You know why? Because he doesn't have a mother. He can at least have some bloody romantic idea about how nice, loving and understanding his mother would be if she were still alive. He can imagine going to her when he fell and she would maybe kiss him and then tell him everything would be all right. He can pretend telling her about his day over tea or some stupid thing like that. It might be stupid but I never had that. And you know what they say, you want what you can never have. But I'm a Malfoy I ALWAYS get what I want.
Again, Potter has the best deal. He can hate the one who took his mother away from him. I have nothing to hate but you and I cannot hate you because you are my mother.
So I am left with nothing.
Because I still have you.
And I am therefore obligated to love you! But do I? I don't know, you hurt me too much on to many occasions.
It is not as if I wanted much. Not like Potter.
I don't need or want a mother hen.
All I want is for someone to love me enough to sometimes say that I did well or even good enough if that's all there is.
But no, you are just too busy with yourself to waste time on me, aren't you?
But it is again Mothers day and again I sent you a present with a card saying "I love you" even if I don't know if I do. The least I can do is pretend, if not for your or my sake than at least for Father because he does seem to care.
Father may ask a lot of me. Too much, perhaps. But that doesn't matter. I always find someway to make it happen, because I cunning, I am after all Slytheryn. Not A Slytheryn. No, I am the definition of what Slytheryn is and should be.
And again I owe all that to Father. Because he asked too much of me. Because he punished me if I wouldn't get even the most impossible thing done. But when I did do something good, he would reward me beyond words.
Do you know how?
No like you solve something. Not by buying me some stupid present. No, he would show me love with his eyes. You know that little twinkle he has lost for you so many years ago?
That alone would make it worth the work, the pain and the guilt. And you know what made it all worth it? He, sometimes, even came close to a genuine smile.
He loves me.
Why don't you? Do you blame me? For everything?
Whatever, just pretend, will you? For Father.
Love or what you will.
