I suppose I should stick a disclaimer in here, even though hopefully everyone knows that I am not JK Rowlings, and I do not own the Harry Potter characters. If I did, the fifth book would be out by now.
Just a warning, this fic will deal with some 'unpleasant' subjects, namely suicide and abuse.
Reviews would be nice, but I won't hold my breath.
EMPTY
sou natsu no asa itsumo yoko ni wa daisuki na mama ga ite
Draco smiled, lounging on a bench in the gazebo in the back lawn, watching his mother playing the harp. It was an old, old Muggle instrument that she played very rarely. When she did, however, it was beautiful, and always gave Draco a feeling of contentment that he held onto tightly. He was so rarely content, so rarely just happy, that he savoured the feelings wholeheartedly in the brief moments they came. He could forget, for a while, out in the gazebo with his mother. He could forget everything, his father, life itself. For a few hours, blessed, stolen hours, he could pretend that no-one existed in the world but him and Narcissa.
He smiled, closing his eyes, letting the simple tune wash over him. Here, he was free, and he loved it, and he loved her.
The melody drew to a close, and he heard his mother sigh. He opened his eyes. Narcissa was smiling sadly, gazing off into the distance. The harp was set down by her side.
"What's wrong, Mother?" asked Draco, observing the sadness in her eyes and being saddened himself, in turn. "Aren't you going to play anymore?"
Narcissa turned her gaze to him, and her eyes became even sadder, for an instant. Then she laughed a little, trying to dispel her son's concern. "Ah, Draco, it's nothing. I merely had the misfortune to allow myself to think for a moment of how I must reinforce the 'unbreakable' spell on the china this afternoon. Such tedious work..."
Draco laughed as well, and patted her hand in sympathy, while both of them carefully did not think about the dinner party that evening which was the reason why the china had to be respelled. A dinner party which would be thrown by Lucius under Narcissa's name, and would include many of Voldemort's closest followers. A dinner party, which, afterwards....
"Why don't you play something, Draco?" Narcissa gently lifted the harp and extended it toward Draco, who took it reverently.
"What shall I play?"
Narcissa smiled gently. "Anything you wish."
Draco ran his fingers over the strings, and began to play. Almost unconsciously, he selected a song that Narcissa had played for him many times when he was a child. It was a sweet, unselfconscious tune that evoked warm memories of something lost in the sands of time, lost and never to be recovered except in these instances in the summer mornings in the gazebo with his mother.
Narcissa began to sing along, accompanying Draco's playing in a clear, almost celestial voice. In that moment, Draco's earth became heaven. Heaven was certainly just this, locked in this one moment released in the music. He closed his eyes, and allowed his heart to soar.
ne itsumo mitai ni watashi ni hohoemi kakete yo teri tsukeru asa ibitsuna hyoujou ukabete
The moment ended.
"Your father is home." said Narcissa, in a voice utterly devoid of emotion.
"I'll hide this." Draco replied. He watched as Narcissa stood gracefully, and left the gazebo. He felt a searing aloneness in his whole being that struck as Narcissa faded into the distance. He thought of the dinner party, and wished despreately that he might stay here, in the gazebo, away from loneliness, sadness, anger, pain. His heart aching, he buried his head in his hands and did not cry. His heart aching, he stood and took the opposite path as Narcissa, heading for the spot in the woods that his father never went to, to hide the harp. His heart aching, he turned back and headed for the manor to face his life.
He sat in his room, his evening clothes laid out on the bed, perfectly straight, so as not to get wrinkled. He had been told to 'keep out of the way' as the preparations for the evening went on. Which meant, essentially, he was banished to his room. The thought of going outside never even crossed his mind. The grounds out back were sacred, never to be entered except in the ritual mornings with his mother. The gazebo and forest had been so long a place for the two of them, that it was inconceivable to either one to go there alone. The ordered flower gardens, with their neat, straight pathways and examples of nature thoroughly subordinated by man did not enter into the holy grounds of Draco's and Narcissa's, but Draco would no more go there than he would go to the gazebo alone. The flower gardens were the domain of his father, and as such were abhorred. So he sat in his room, thinking of nothing, wishing time could just stop, wishing time would move faster so he could get on the train to Hogwarts and experience the freedom and bliss that came with nine months away from his father. Hogwarts wasn't exactly a paradise for him, but compared with his home, it was pretty damn wonderful. He didn't have many friends there... okay, any friends there, since Crabbe and Goyle didn't really count, but he didn't need them. Didn't really want them, in fact. Draco was an isolationist by nature, and created a hard, uncaring, arrogant shell to protect his wounded, scarred core. Truthfully, he was afraid to let anyone close for fear of what they might uncover. He kept his secrets, his family's secrets, and suffered in silence, enduring.
Glancing up, Draco noticed the time. Sighing, he went to dress for the party.
He held his head high as he walked down the staircase. He steeled himself mentally as he prepared to enter the formal dining room. Maybe if he did everything right, his father would be in a good mood afterwards and he could escape up to his room. Maybe, maybe. Draco built his future on maybes. Maybes, not hopes. Hopes were too fragile, too precious to be shattered one too many times. So he thought in terms of maybe, and endured to see another day.
He took his seat next to his father, tried and failed to catch Narcissa's eyes on the other side. He didn't frown in concern, didn't let any expression other than slight congeniality on his face. He looked forward, and smiled at each of the guests as they were announced and shown in.
After the initial pleasantries and small talk, the topic of discussion inevitably turned to Voldemort. Lord Voldemort, as he was known in the privileged circles with influence enough to be seen at Lucius Malfoy's dinner table. Draco listened idly, outwardly agreeing, inwardly thinking what a pathetic bunch of fools they were. Voldemort would not waste a spare thought on any of these beyond their usefulness in gaining him power; once their usefulness was outlived, he would kill them.
Death held no fear for Draco, but he would prefer to die at the hands of something other than Voldemort. It would also be nice if he could live out his life without the constant shadow of Voldemort and his father hanging over his head.
But that thought was perilously close to a hope, and so Draco crushed it. Smiling at some inane comment by the person sitting next to him - what was his name?-he replied lightly, easily, never letting anyone guess at the misery that haunted his inner self.
The dinner progressed; they moved into the drawing room to be entertained; at midnight, people started to trickle away. By one, everyone had gone, leaving the Malfoy manor quiet and alone.
Secluded, secure, no neighbors for miles. Beautiful, pristine, immaculate, the house sheltered the family that nothing could repair. In the silence of the night, Lucius dominated. Owning everything and yet owning nothing, he had given his life to Voldemort, and now sought power of his own. Power that did not belong to his Lord. For Lucius, everything revolved around power.
There was no sound to break the stillness of the night. Draco understood the need for power of his father, and endured. Narcissa also understood the need, and stayed in her room, and wept silently. Broken beyond repair, she could not endure the suffering of her son as her son could endure suffering. She had rested her future on hope, and finding the hope shattered, she could not look forward. She would not look back. Locked in the present, she saw no escape. Knowing her son could endure, yet she could not.
The silence was broken by one whisper, not heard by anyone but herself and the night.
"I love you."
shimetsuketa mama no kubisuji tenjou kara burasagaru nara baibai Mother
Draco packed his trunk for Hogwarts, numb. The usual exaltation he felt at leaving for King's Cross on September first was gone. He felt nothing anymore, and still endured. Empty inside, he locked his trunk and headed downstairs.
"Ready, Draco?" asked the head servant, Willis, who could call him by his first name by virtue of having been with the family since Draco's birth. Lucius, predictably, was nowhere to be seen.
"Yes." Monotone. He couldn't care anymore.
Willis peered concernedly at Draco. He couldn't say anything, but he thought it rather heartless of Lucius not to be there to send Draco off, especially after the horrible tragedy that had happened to them.
"Well, let's go, then." Willis took the trunk and set off toward the expensive car that would take Draco to King's Cross. Draco followed despondently behind.
"Have a good year, then." said Willis, trying to inject some cheerfulness into the somber atmosphere pervading the scene.
"Yeah. See you." The same monotone, and Draco was off.
Okay, that's it for now, because I don't feel like writing any more at the moment. It kind of leaves of at a midpoint, but whatever. The next chapter will explain things, and hopefully have more dialogue. I've just realized that this chapter is sadly dialogue-lacking. Ah well.
If you noticed the Japanese lyrics scattered about, here's translations, for those that care.
it's a summer morning my beloved mother always by my side
hey smile at me like you always do the morning shines on your distorted expression
tightened on mother's neck suspended from the ceiling bye-bye, Mother
The song is 'embryo', by Dir en grey. It fits.
Just a warning, this fic will deal with some 'unpleasant' subjects, namely suicide and abuse.
Reviews would be nice, but I won't hold my breath.
EMPTY
sou natsu no asa itsumo yoko ni wa daisuki na mama ga ite
Draco smiled, lounging on a bench in the gazebo in the back lawn, watching his mother playing the harp. It was an old, old Muggle instrument that she played very rarely. When she did, however, it was beautiful, and always gave Draco a feeling of contentment that he held onto tightly. He was so rarely content, so rarely just happy, that he savoured the feelings wholeheartedly in the brief moments they came. He could forget, for a while, out in the gazebo with his mother. He could forget everything, his father, life itself. For a few hours, blessed, stolen hours, he could pretend that no-one existed in the world but him and Narcissa.
He smiled, closing his eyes, letting the simple tune wash over him. Here, he was free, and he loved it, and he loved her.
The melody drew to a close, and he heard his mother sigh. He opened his eyes. Narcissa was smiling sadly, gazing off into the distance. The harp was set down by her side.
"What's wrong, Mother?" asked Draco, observing the sadness in her eyes and being saddened himself, in turn. "Aren't you going to play anymore?"
Narcissa turned her gaze to him, and her eyes became even sadder, for an instant. Then she laughed a little, trying to dispel her son's concern. "Ah, Draco, it's nothing. I merely had the misfortune to allow myself to think for a moment of how I must reinforce the 'unbreakable' spell on the china this afternoon. Such tedious work..."
Draco laughed as well, and patted her hand in sympathy, while both of them carefully did not think about the dinner party that evening which was the reason why the china had to be respelled. A dinner party which would be thrown by Lucius under Narcissa's name, and would include many of Voldemort's closest followers. A dinner party, which, afterwards....
"Why don't you play something, Draco?" Narcissa gently lifted the harp and extended it toward Draco, who took it reverently.
"What shall I play?"
Narcissa smiled gently. "Anything you wish."
Draco ran his fingers over the strings, and began to play. Almost unconsciously, he selected a song that Narcissa had played for him many times when he was a child. It was a sweet, unselfconscious tune that evoked warm memories of something lost in the sands of time, lost and never to be recovered except in these instances in the summer mornings in the gazebo with his mother.
Narcissa began to sing along, accompanying Draco's playing in a clear, almost celestial voice. In that moment, Draco's earth became heaven. Heaven was certainly just this, locked in this one moment released in the music. He closed his eyes, and allowed his heart to soar.
ne itsumo mitai ni watashi ni hohoemi kakete yo teri tsukeru asa ibitsuna hyoujou ukabete
The moment ended.
"Your father is home." said Narcissa, in a voice utterly devoid of emotion.
"I'll hide this." Draco replied. He watched as Narcissa stood gracefully, and left the gazebo. He felt a searing aloneness in his whole being that struck as Narcissa faded into the distance. He thought of the dinner party, and wished despreately that he might stay here, in the gazebo, away from loneliness, sadness, anger, pain. His heart aching, he buried his head in his hands and did not cry. His heart aching, he stood and took the opposite path as Narcissa, heading for the spot in the woods that his father never went to, to hide the harp. His heart aching, he turned back and headed for the manor to face his life.
He sat in his room, his evening clothes laid out on the bed, perfectly straight, so as not to get wrinkled. He had been told to 'keep out of the way' as the preparations for the evening went on. Which meant, essentially, he was banished to his room. The thought of going outside never even crossed his mind. The grounds out back were sacred, never to be entered except in the ritual mornings with his mother. The gazebo and forest had been so long a place for the two of them, that it was inconceivable to either one to go there alone. The ordered flower gardens, with their neat, straight pathways and examples of nature thoroughly subordinated by man did not enter into the holy grounds of Draco's and Narcissa's, but Draco would no more go there than he would go to the gazebo alone. The flower gardens were the domain of his father, and as such were abhorred. So he sat in his room, thinking of nothing, wishing time could just stop, wishing time would move faster so he could get on the train to Hogwarts and experience the freedom and bliss that came with nine months away from his father. Hogwarts wasn't exactly a paradise for him, but compared with his home, it was pretty damn wonderful. He didn't have many friends there... okay, any friends there, since Crabbe and Goyle didn't really count, but he didn't need them. Didn't really want them, in fact. Draco was an isolationist by nature, and created a hard, uncaring, arrogant shell to protect his wounded, scarred core. Truthfully, he was afraid to let anyone close for fear of what they might uncover. He kept his secrets, his family's secrets, and suffered in silence, enduring.
Glancing up, Draco noticed the time. Sighing, he went to dress for the party.
He held his head high as he walked down the staircase. He steeled himself mentally as he prepared to enter the formal dining room. Maybe if he did everything right, his father would be in a good mood afterwards and he could escape up to his room. Maybe, maybe. Draco built his future on maybes. Maybes, not hopes. Hopes were too fragile, too precious to be shattered one too many times. So he thought in terms of maybe, and endured to see another day.
He took his seat next to his father, tried and failed to catch Narcissa's eyes on the other side. He didn't frown in concern, didn't let any expression other than slight congeniality on his face. He looked forward, and smiled at each of the guests as they were announced and shown in.
After the initial pleasantries and small talk, the topic of discussion inevitably turned to Voldemort. Lord Voldemort, as he was known in the privileged circles with influence enough to be seen at Lucius Malfoy's dinner table. Draco listened idly, outwardly agreeing, inwardly thinking what a pathetic bunch of fools they were. Voldemort would not waste a spare thought on any of these beyond their usefulness in gaining him power; once their usefulness was outlived, he would kill them.
Death held no fear for Draco, but he would prefer to die at the hands of something other than Voldemort. It would also be nice if he could live out his life without the constant shadow of Voldemort and his father hanging over his head.
But that thought was perilously close to a hope, and so Draco crushed it. Smiling at some inane comment by the person sitting next to him - what was his name?-he replied lightly, easily, never letting anyone guess at the misery that haunted his inner self.
The dinner progressed; they moved into the drawing room to be entertained; at midnight, people started to trickle away. By one, everyone had gone, leaving the Malfoy manor quiet and alone.
Secluded, secure, no neighbors for miles. Beautiful, pristine, immaculate, the house sheltered the family that nothing could repair. In the silence of the night, Lucius dominated. Owning everything and yet owning nothing, he had given his life to Voldemort, and now sought power of his own. Power that did not belong to his Lord. For Lucius, everything revolved around power.
There was no sound to break the stillness of the night. Draco understood the need for power of his father, and endured. Narcissa also understood the need, and stayed in her room, and wept silently. Broken beyond repair, she could not endure the suffering of her son as her son could endure suffering. She had rested her future on hope, and finding the hope shattered, she could not look forward. She would not look back. Locked in the present, she saw no escape. Knowing her son could endure, yet she could not.
The silence was broken by one whisper, not heard by anyone but herself and the night.
"I love you."
shimetsuketa mama no kubisuji tenjou kara burasagaru nara baibai Mother
Draco packed his trunk for Hogwarts, numb. The usual exaltation he felt at leaving for King's Cross on September first was gone. He felt nothing anymore, and still endured. Empty inside, he locked his trunk and headed downstairs.
"Ready, Draco?" asked the head servant, Willis, who could call him by his first name by virtue of having been with the family since Draco's birth. Lucius, predictably, was nowhere to be seen.
"Yes." Monotone. He couldn't care anymore.
Willis peered concernedly at Draco. He couldn't say anything, but he thought it rather heartless of Lucius not to be there to send Draco off, especially after the horrible tragedy that had happened to them.
"Well, let's go, then." Willis took the trunk and set off toward the expensive car that would take Draco to King's Cross. Draco followed despondently behind.
"Have a good year, then." said Willis, trying to inject some cheerfulness into the somber atmosphere pervading the scene.
"Yeah. See you." The same monotone, and Draco was off.
Okay, that's it for now, because I don't feel like writing any more at the moment. It kind of leaves of at a midpoint, but whatever. The next chapter will explain things, and hopefully have more dialogue. I've just realized that this chapter is sadly dialogue-lacking. Ah well.
If you noticed the Japanese lyrics scattered about, here's translations, for those that care.
it's a summer morning my beloved mother always by my side
hey smile at me like you always do the morning shines on your distorted expression
tightened on mother's neck suspended from the ceiling bye-bye, Mother
The song is 'embryo', by Dir en grey. It fits.