D IS FOR DISGUST

cette

[4/26]

Draco turned the invitation over in his hands several times before placing in neatly next to his teacup – again. It had been a week since his parents had return to England from France, and six days since his mother had sent him a dinner invitation for the following Sunday at the manor. Since then Draco had been brooding over the fact that he would have to return to the place. He hadn't been back since the war ended – they had gone straight into custody, and then right away his parents had left for France. Draco had gone with them for a little while, and then he had gotten his apartment in London. Draco hadn't even bothered grabbing personal things from the place, he couldn't think of anything he'd want from there.

Draco sighed and picked up the card again. His parents had come to visit him earlier in the week, and they had surprised him. It was as if they weren't really themselves, but reflections in the mirror, trying hard to be who they were but in reality everything was in reverse. His mother was trying to be a socialite when no one wanted to speak with her, and his father was trying to exude power he would never again have.

If that was the case with his parents, he wondered what they saw when they looked at him. Was he a reflection, or something else?

Whatever the case was, he certainly wasn't who he had been, but he was still the person who committed all of those crimes.

When the invitation had first come, Draco had half the mind to simply refuse – the thought of going back to the manor repulsed him. Too many memories, and too much...

He couldn't even bring himself to think about it.

Still, that evening found Draco standing outside the grand gates to the Malfoy Manor, the family motto plastered in Latin above it in ornate letters. The sun was setting over the hill, and the house was just starting to get its evening shadows. It was grand and majestic – as his father had once told him, 'the only place fit for a Malfoy to live.'

Draco knew that he was late, and that his mother would start to worry about where he was, but he couldn't force himself to push open the gate. He loved his parents, truly, but he didn't understand how after it all, they could simply live in the manor as if nothing happened. As if people hadn't died. As if...

A scream from nowhere echoed off the house, and Draco wasn't sure if he was imagining it, or if it was real.

"Draco, you should be so very honoured!"

Draco started to shake and his vision swam. He knew who he could hear screaming. He heard Weasley begging from below, muffled from the thick floors. Aunt Bellatrix laughing. Draco felt sick.

Without another glance at the house, Draco turned on his heel and ran. He knew that his parents were waiting, probably worried sick about him not arriving, but he couldn't do it. He couldn't face his past. He was disgusted by himself, the person he was in that house.

Draco reached a small street with dimly lit lamps. He collapsed onto a park bench breathing heavy. He sat motionless and eyes closed until his breath quieted.

Draco slowly rolled up his sleeve and looked at the mark. It was still black – his father hadn't mentioned whether or not it would fade, but Draco didn't think he would ever ask the question anyways.

"Do you swear to forever serve me?"

He was so confident and sure of himself then. And now...now...he was a coward, a coward who couldn't even face who he'd been. And that, of all things, disgusted him the most.

Draco looked out towards a house across the street where a family was sitting down to eat, happily smiling and laughing. A group of teenage boys rounded the corner towards Draco.

"Hey man, nice tattoo. Where'd you get it?"

Draco turned around and threw up behind the bench.

"You have chosen your fate Draco Malfoy. You have chosen your destiny."

Sorry this has been awhile guys! I've been super swamped. Thanks to all the people who have reviewed so far, you all rock. Anyways, I've already got 'E' written, so I should have it up pretty soon. I hope you like 'D'. Cheers!