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Author: LB
Disclaimer: I do not own
Description: Draco remembers where he grew up. One Shot Fic.
The rain had been falling for hours. Draco Malfoy stood in front of the window, watching the rain as it poured from the sky. It seemed as though the clouds were bags of water, that had been violently slashed, cut open, and all the water fell in torrents. The ground, he could see, had become muddy, and the flowers were dripping in water. The roses were being assaulted by the heavy drops, and so were the other various flowers that had sprouted up in the garden. Letting go of the curtain, he walked away from the window and back through the hall into the living room. His shoes tapped loudly on the wood floors. His clothing was wet. As was his hair. The house was empty. He called out, and received no answer.
Of course, he would receive no answer. The house had been empty for several years. There was dust everywhere. He did not know why exactly he had felt the need to come back to his old home. To touch the walls and see the things that had been left behind. He recalled the good and the bad memories that the house held for him. Toward the end, they were mostly bad memories, but in his younger days, the house had been an amazing place to live in, he saw that now, through older eyes, through wiser eyes.
Walking through the sitting room, he saw his mother had covered the sofas in plastic. There was a thick layer of dust along the shelves, and on the various ornaments and decorations they had left behind. He recalled a moment when he was about six years old. He heard his father's voice as he scolded him.
"Draco Malfoy, can you do anything right?" asked Lucius. He looked down at his son. Draco's gray eyes welled with tears as he looked at the small urn he had smashed.
"I'm sorry father," he said looking down at his feet.
"Sorry won't repair this Urn," said his father sternly. He heard his mother's footsteps.
"Lucius, don't yell at him so, it's just an old Urn," she said pulling out her wand. "Reparo," she said with a wave. The Urn repaired itself in a few seconds. "There, good as new," she said with a smile. She bent down and lifted it off the floor, kissing Draco's cheek as she did so. He flushed at his mother's attention and looked at her as she placed the Urn back on its stand. She was beautiful; her long blond hair was tied up in an elegant bun. She turned to Lucius and placed her hands on his chest.
"Lucius, he's just a boy, and it's just an Urn, don't yell at him like that," She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him on the lips. Draco was still watching. He saw his father smile as he looked as his wife, but the smile disappeared when he saw Draco.
"Draco, you behave yourself, and watch where you're going, there are many important things in this house, you're lucky your mother saved you this time," he said angrily. With a swish of his cloak, he left the room. Narcissa turned to Draco, a smile on her face.
"Oh, don't listen to that old grouch, love, come with me, I'll get you some ice cream!" she said offering her hand to him. He smiled and nodded, taking her hand, and following her out of the living room.
Draco smiled. He missed his mother. He hadn't seen her or his father in almost seven years, as they had left the country as soon as they had the chance. He saw the Urn, perched on the same stool. He recognized it now; it was actually a rare type of Urn. It was made of glass, and it was a murky brown color. He shook his head, thinking of how angry his father had been when it had smashed on the floor. He had half a mind to knock it over again, and smash it again. He wanted to see it fall to the floor, and smash into millions of pieces. But as he swung his hand he stopped. What was the point of the action? It was a senseless action. Similar to many of the things he had done in his life. Leaving the Urn, he continued on through the house.
He walked into the kitchen; there were still dishes on the stand. In the middle of the kitchen there was an island on which various pots and pans were stacked, and an old loaf of bread still lay on the table. He knew the kitchen was just for show, most of the cooking was done in a bigger room which was downstairs. He remembered Dobby the house elf who did all the cooking and then magicked it up. Taking his wand, he vanished the moldy bread, and hearing a thud, he knew it had landed inside the garbage can. He had happy moments in this kitchen as well. His father had brought in a high chair for him, so he could reach the island, and he remembered eating there on occasion.
"Narcissa, we're having guests over, can't we just leave him in here with Dobby?" Lucius asked. Narcissa's eyes narrowed.
"Oh, alright, I suppose," she said turning around to look at Draco. He was four. He came walking towards her and had a toothy smile on his face. She lifted him up and turned to face Lucius. Lucius smiled at Draco.
"Draco, you'll be in here today, with Dobby," he said. Draco blinked.
"Oh, but is it safe? I mean, there are knives in here," Narcissa said worriedly.
"Oh for God's sake, Narcissa, he's not a baby anymore, just leave him in his room," he said. Narcissa furrowed her eyebrows angrily and put Draco down on the floor.
"What is wrong with you, Lucius? This is your son, don't you care?" she asked. He opened his mouth to retort angrily but when he saw the expression on her face he sighed. "Why do you act like you don't care about him?" She asked. Lucius licked his lips.
"I…I DO care for him, it's just…He needs to be strong," he said.
"Strong, Lucius? He's barely five!"
"I KNOW, but do you think people will care? Do you think they'll care how old he is when he goes out into the world?" he asked. She drew herself up straight and looked him in the eye.
"They will care, people will always care, but he is a Malfoy, and he will be strong, there's no need for you to treat him this way," she said. He sighed and shook his head.
"Just…we have guests, Narcissa, put him away for the evening," he said. He walked out of the kitchen.
His memories seemed to be flooded with moments like these, where his mother stood up for him, and protected him from Lucius. Now he knew, it wasn't his father's fault. It was just the way he was. By him, scolding Draco, he was simply trying to make him a better person, and that was the only way he could do it. Being nice wasn't something that Lucius was used to. Over the years, Draco had come to understand his father, and respect him. He loved him, all the same, despite the things he had done in his life. If there was one thing he had learned, it was that there was always room for forgiveness. He felt tears in his eyes as he stood in the kitchen. Lightning flashed outside, and a few moments later, thunder rumbled. He was still soaked from the rain. He wondered if he should continue on, walking through the house. Looking at the door that lead from the kitchen to the dining room, he decided against it. He knew this house, he knew its secrets. The walls held his stories and would keep them safe for another hundred years if need be. But as of now, he knew he did not have to do this, he did not have to put himself through this test to prove anything. Turning his back on the kitchen he walked out of it.
He was once again, in the hall. The rain still fell heavily outside; closing his eyes, and picturing his home in his head, he Disapparated from the old house and its creaks and groans. He appeared in front of his present home, the rain still falling on him. He rang the doorbell. He heard footsteps, and then his wife's voice, shouting at his two children. She opened the door and looked at him, a curious expression on her face.
"Draco, why didn't you just come in? You're soaked! Come in!" He smiled at Hermione and kissed her cheek as he walked into the house. He saw his sons in the living room, in front of the television playing Muggle Video Games. Hermione shook her head.
"Those boys, I knew I should have never let them have it," she said frowning. Draco smiled.
"They're young, let them play," he said. She smiled and shook her head.
"And where were you?" she asked waving her wand. His clothing became dry. He shrugged.
"I…went for a walk somewhere," he said. She raised an eyebrow.
"Alright, I suppose that's how you go so wet," she said. He was looking down at the floor and he felt her hand on his shoulder.
"Draco, you can tell me where you went when you're ready, don't let it rest on your mind," she said. He leaned forward and rested his forehead on hers and closed his eyes.
"Thank you, Hermione," he whispered. She nodded and opened her eyes.
"No problem, now go get your sons away from that machine and change, dinner is almost ready," she said kissing him on the lips. They pulled apart and Draco walked into the living room. His twin sons looked up at him and they shouted.
"PAPA!" they both said. Dropping their game controllers, they both ran over to him and clung to his legs. He laughed and bent down to pick them up. When he did they both smiled.
"Where are my kisses?" he asked. They leaned forward and kissed his cheeks, leaving spit on his face.
"Papa! I'm beating Brendon in this game!" shouted Ethan. Draco groaned.
"NO! I'm winning!" shouted Ethan. They struggled to get down and when Draco let them go they ran back to the game, calling him to sit on the sofa and watch them. He watched them as they played, a feeling of happiness spreading across his heart; Ethan, with his sandy blonde hair, much like his father's, and Brendon, with his brown curly hair, like his mother's. Rubbing their heads, he got up and went upstairs to change. He heard them laughing as he ascended the stairs and turned around to look at them. Hermione had just stepped into the room as well and watched them as they laughed. He looked at her, and she met his gaze. She winked at him, and smiled. He smiled back and continued upstairs.
He was home.
A/N : Hope you enjoyed it. Please review and tell me what you think.
LB.