It only took a super long time, but here's an update! Sorry I got so behind. Life gets crazy. I'll try to update this story when I can, but I don't know how well I'll do with regular updates. In the meantime, here's the next chapter!
Confusion in the Shop
"Sir?"
"What?"
"Are you alright, sir?"
"Yes Dobby."
"Yes sir."
Draco sighed, rolling his eyes as the house elf continued to stare at him with wide, terrified eyes. Somehow the house-elf always knew when Draco was experiencing any type of distress. Draco had no idea how the elf knew, but he supposed it was due to him somehow becoming his best friend over the years.
Best friends with a house-elf. How the great have fallen.
Draco shoved the thoughts to the back of his head and continued to stare at himself in the mirror. His blonde hair was slicked back, highlighting his sharp features. He appeared to be the spitting image of his father, which made him partly proud and partly sick.
His father was a hero to him. His father was everything to him.
But his father was also a murderer.
Years ago, Draco had read every detail he could on the war. Dobby continually snuck books into the house that Draco could read. It took a year before Draco finally accepted that multiple history books could not all be lying about the same details. His father helped He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named murder hundreds of people for the sake of blood purity.
The thought still made Draco's stomach churn with disgust and unease.
"Sir?"
"What?" Draco snapped, glaring at the elf.
Dobby didn't even flinch around him anymore. He merely stared into his eyes with pity. "You are not alright, sir."
Draco rolled his eyes and turned back to the mirror, adjusting his collar. "It is none of your business Dobby."
"Will you be alright at school sir?" Dobby questioned again.
Draco paused for a moment before nodding. "Yes. I will be."
"What about the war?"
"What about it?" Draco didn't look at him. "The war is over, and my father has been cleared on all charges brought against him. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named forced him to commit acts that he now regrets. While he values blood purity, he would never murder mudbloods."
The lies felt natural at this point.
"You are a good liar, sir."
Draco's mouth twitched. "Thank you, Dobby."
He didn't bother keeping secrets from the house-elf anymore. After all, Dobby was there to witness Draco falling apart from the books. He was there to console Draco as he cried over the truth about his parents. He was also there to silently support him as Draco went through denial and demanded more books because of course these books are lying.
He was there when Draco finally realized his parents were the liars all along.
"Sir? You will be making friends with others like you," Dobby said, worry evident in his tone.
"No Dobby. They won't be anything like me."
"You will be in Slytherin," his father stated.
"Of course, Father." Of that, Draco had no doubt.
"You will make the right friends at this school."
"Yes, Father."
"You will make me proud."
"That is my desire, Father."
"Good." His father's lip twitched in an almost-smile.
"You say that as though he has not already made you proud," his mother teased. "And don't worry, dear. You will end up in Slytherin. Although I will not be surprised if Ravenclaw takes you."
"As long as you do not go into the other houses," his father sneered with disgust.
His mother chuckled as though the other houses were not even an option. "Of course he won't, dear."
"Do not think so little of me father," Draco smirked. He knew he would be in Slytherin. He had spent the past few years lying to his parents and sneaking in texts behind their back. It was very fitting of the house he would be in.
His father smiled proudly at him and grasped his shoulder, squeezing it. Draco smiled under its weight and thought about how he would make his father proud this year.
His goal was to be the top student of his year, which he would obviously be able to accomplish with his intelligence. He also wanted to befriend all of the pureblood children in order to secure allies for the future.
He would also keep his criticism of the war to himself. Instead of discussing the war with his newfound allies, he would concentrate on talking about separating the mudbloods and muggles. This would allow him to technically be telling the truth when discussing these topics with his friends and family.
After all, he did believe in segregation, just not genocide.
So long as he acted appropriately in public, his private thoughts did not matter. His father said as much when he was a child.
Lost in thought, he did not notice he arrived at Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions.
"You will get your robes fitted while I retrieve your books," his father said.
"I will look at some of the wand shops," his mother said thoughtfully. "I would like to see what types of wands they are selling."
"Alright," Draco said, slightly surprised. His father had never left him alone in public before. Growing up, he thought his father didn't want to appear negligent by having his child running around by himself. He now knew it was because his father did not want him to find out the details of the war. He supposed it made sense that his father would leave him alone now. After all, he would be going to Hogwarts where his father would have no control over what Draco read.
He supposed his father thought he was so brainwashed that he would not even bother reading intolerable texts.
As his parents walked away to conduct their errands, Draco sighed and walked into the store. He was immediately greeted by a woman whom he could only assume was Madam Malkin.
"Hello?" Madam Malkin smiled brightly. "Robes for Hogwarts I assume?"
"Yes," Draco answered.
"Alright! Come to the back. I'll get you fitted!"
Draco followed her and was greeted by a second witch. She began measuring his arms. At first, she attempted to start small talk, but he remained silent. She eventually took the hint and remained quiet.
"—Another young man being fitted up just now, in fact," Draco overheard Madam Malkin state.
Draco's body froze, and his breath got caught in his throat. Already? He would have to start interacting with other children so soon? He thought he would have a few more weeks to prepare before officially going to Hogwarts. What was he supposed to do? Should he automatically act as a proud son to his father? Start talking about the war? Find out where this child's loyalties lie?
Draco tried to take in a deep breath and calm himself. It's just like the balls and parties, Draco reminded himself. Act as though you're at one of those. Remember, you're a Malfoy. As long as you act as you are supposed to in public, you will be fine. Keep your secrets and your thoughts hidden.
The boy walked into the room, and Draco stole a glance at him. It was a boy he had never seen before. His dark hair was an absolute mess, and he was wearing tattered clothes. If Draco didn't know any better, he would have assumed the boy was a Weasley.
However, the boy had no red hair, and he was buying new clothes instead of hand-me-down's.
Draco analyzed him, trying to see if the boy's features matched any of the adults he had met. Perhaps the boy was a mudblood? Draco's lip curled in disgust at the thought.
"Hello," he said politely. "Hogwarts, too?"
He turned to meet the boy's eyes and was stunned into silence. He had a shade of bright green eyes under a pair of broken glasses. For some reason, his breath caught in his throat once again for entirely different reasons.
"Yes," the boy replied.
Before Draco realized it, words were spilling out of his mouth. "My father's next door buying my books and Mother's up the street looking at wands. Then I'm going to drag them off to look at racing brooms. I don't see why first years can't have their own. I think I'll bully Father into getting me one and I'll smuggle it in somehow."
What on earth was he saying? Him? Bully his father? He could barely state his own opinions in front of his father.
"Have you got your own broom?" Draco asked, feeling a redness creep into his cheeks. Why was he so embarrassed? Why was he fidgeting?
"No."
"Play Quidditch at all?"
"No."
Not much of a talker, is he? Draco thought to himself. "I do—Father says it's a crime if I'm not picked to play for my House, and I must say, I agree. Know what House you'll be in yet?"
"No."
Draco raised an eyebrow. Usually most children had some idea of what house they would be in unless…
This boy was definitely a mudblood.
"Well, no one really knows until they get there, do they," Draco said, attempting to comfort the boy.
Why on earth he was attempting to comfort a mudblood was beyond him… perhaps it was pity…
But it didn't feel like pity.
"I know I'll be in Slytherin," he continued, trying to distract himself from his own thoughts. "All of our family have been—imagine being in Hufflepuff, I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?"
And if I get into Gryffindor I'd be disowned.
"Mmm," the boy hummed.
Draco was getting absolutely nowhere with the boy. But then again, why did he want to get anywhere with the boy? Why was he trying to hard to impress a mudblood?
"I say, look at that man!" Draco tried a new tactic. He gestured towards a huge man who towered over the rest of the people walking by.
"That's Hagrid," the boy replied. "He works at Hogwarts."
Finally! More than one word.
Draco, pleased by the sudden development, continued, "Oh, I've heard of him! He's a sort of servant, isn't he?"
According to his father, Hagrid was lucky to even be working at Hogwarts to begin with. When he was a student, he would sneak dangerous monsters into the school. One year, multiple students were injured due to the monsters he kept, and one student died.
It was one fact that Draco knew wasn't a lie. After all, his father kept the newspapers from the time in the library.
"He's the gamekeeper," the boy corrected.
"Yes exactly. I heard he's a sort of savage," Draco paused. Perhaps he shouldn't inform the boy of how Hagrid was a murderer. After all, the boy was a mudblood, and it seemed as though he knew next to nothing about Hogwarts. If he were to tell the boy that a murderer lived on the grounds, it might scare him off. Normally, Draco would want to scare away the mudblood, but the idea didn't sit right with him this time.
His father would be incredibly disappointed.
Then again, Draco thought to himself, his father did try to kill them. While Draco did not want them dead, he still didn't like them. Perhaps his attempt to protect this mudblood stemmed from overcompensating for his father's actions during the war?
However, that didn't feel right either…
"Lives in a hut on the school grounds and every now and then he gets drunk, tries to do magic, and sets fire to his bed," Draco edited the story.
"I think he's brilliant."
"Do you?" Draco said incredulously. It then clicked. The boy was with Hagrid. Hagrid was the one helping the mudblood get accustomed to the Wizarding World. "Why is he with you? Where are your parents?"
"Remember Draco," his father's words rang in his head, "muggles hate our kind. In the past, they've tried to burn us and hunt us down. They hate us, which is why we must stay away from them. They are dangerous, savage creatures."
Did the boy's parents find out he was a wizard and disown him? Muggles were hateful enough to do so.
"They're dead," Harry stated.
Fuck.
Why was he so bad at this?
"Oh sorry," Draco replied awkwardly before freezing. The boy was his age, which meant he was a baby during the war. Did his father… "But they were our kind, weren't they?"
Please don't tell me that my father killed this boy's parents…
Draco never even thought about how he might have to interact with the children of his father's victims.
"They were a witch and wizard, if that's what you mean."
Oh thank goodness.
Draco breathed a sigh of relief. "I don't really think they should let the other sort in, do you? They're just not the same, they've never been brought up to know our ways. Some of them have never even heard of Hogwarts until they get the letter, imagine. I think they should keep it in the old wizarding families. What's your surname, anyway?"
He was rambling again but this time he was not paying much attention to what he was saying. He was still preoccupied with the thoughts of interacting with the orphans his father left behind. It made him feel physically ill, and he barely registered that he was on autopilot, spewing out words that he had practiced for his father and future friends.
Before he could find out the name of the boy, Madam Malkin interrupted and told him that he was finished. The boy hopped off the chair, and Draco realized he never introduced himself. "Well, I'll see you at Hogwarts, I suppose," he said rather awkwardly.
The boy didn't even bother replying.
Draco sighed and looked away as the boy exited the store.
What was wrong with him today?
There you go! There was the update. I know it seems bad that Draco still has a lot of prejudice, but I wanted to explore that as well as he how may confront that in the future. At this point, he is not okay with murdering people he deems "lesser" but he still supports a lot of prejudiced policies.
Anyways, I hope you all enjoy!
