I would have laughed if it hadn't been so pathetic. If he had been joking, mocking in his tone and having a good chuckle over the fact that the Dark Lord had indeed kept plotting for his Great Revival like a two-pence "magician" who kept trying to wow the unimpressed crowd with relentless, unimaginative tricks, I could have participated. But the old fool was pitiful in his blind devotion, vulnerable in his belief that everything would return to the way it was 17 years ago, before Voldemort's fall. Puffed up by the expectation of a position of leadership at the Lord's right hand and in his favor. Utterly clueless.
I didn't fear my father the way he expected me to. My understanding of fear derived from the idea that you had to pay someone enough mind to respect them, and I didn't respect my father. He was a joke. And unfortunately for me, I was the only wizard who saw him that way. The rest of them worshipped him. Saw his callousness as the perfect attitude. Except for Arthur Weasley; however, that Muggle-lover only saw so far. He saw his ambition, his wit, his cunning, and he knew that Father's dark affiliations would be the death of him one day, but he didn't recognize the truth of what father was; weak. Yes, weak.
Father reared me to believe that weakness is not to be respected. This is why I do not respect him. He was weak in his wholehearted devotion to half-breed Tom Riddle. It did not allow him room for an ounce of himself; he had given everything to someone else.
Though I didn't respect him, I loved him.
Regardless to what you may have heard, Malfoys are capable of loving. It is just…different from others' ideas of love. And it's sporadic. Highly, highly sporadic. My father loved my mother instantly, the moment they met, really. And then, two years after they married, he started to follow Voldemort, creating terror in exchange for power, for a chance to get back at all of those who outranked him. His relationship with my mother evaporated from lingering caresses nightly to an emotionless coupling every couple of months. My mother drove herself insane, quite literally, questioning what she had done to make him hate her…and then I was born, and he seemed to come back to her. Until Harry Potter defeated Voldemort. Lucius suddenly stopped answering my cries at night and instead told my mother to quiet me by dipping her finger in brandy and letting me suck. I imagine that that is why I love brandy so much; it comforts me.
And these are the things I think of when my world seems to crumble. That I have not only endured worse; but survived.
And not only do I survive, but I get better-looking every day.
Although I stopped acting out after Professor Moody turned me into a ferret, I am still the arrogant son-of-a-bitch I have always been; I just internalize it except when Ron Weasley (yes, I do know all of the Weasley children's names; how could I not? They are the offspring of my father's worst enemy) makes some idiotic comment, or Harry Potter's-well, anything that had to do with Scarface angers me for some reason. I feel as if I must speak to him, otherwise, the rage I feel might present itself in more…embarrassing ways.
And though I show him mercy by not uttering a spell to make him choke on his tongue, I hate him.
I don't hate the Mudblood that much; she just annoys the hell out of me. Though I do imagine she'd be quite the feisty one in bed. The quiet, seemingly naïve ones are usually the most loud and violent; particularly the first time they are taken. They lose all reservation and inhibitions and just surround themselves with the sensations…but I digress.
And that thought is what I woke up to, in the dark, dank hospital wing. My head pounded, and I saw blurry shapes with a white luminescent outline, like they were shining, and then everything came into focus. There was still a throbbing at my temples, and I fought to keep my eyes open as Professors McGonagall and Snape approached the foot of my bed. McGonagall kept her eyes straight on mine, piercing them all the way back to the retinas, while Snape surveyed my entire being, taking into account all of my injuries (for it felt like there were thousands!). When he was through, he took a step backwards, an unusual smirk flying across his face and then leaving just as quickly.
"Mr. Malfoy," Professor McGonagall's thin lips parted. "What you said to Mr. Potter was inexcusable," she said. I just squinted my eyes so they wouldn't hurt so badly and took my verbal lashing like a man. "In case you are wondering, there was quite a crowd around to hear what you had to say to Mr. Potter. I daresay that if he hadn't taken a swing at you for what you said, someone else would have." I pressed my lips together to keep myself from talking back; I hadn't said anything that terrible.
"There are…circumstances surrounding Ms. Weasley's absence these last two months that made that remark highly inappropriate." Snape stepped in, his sentence speaking of mysterious things, as per usual. I licked my lips, then opened them to speak.
"What's my punishment?" I asked, making sure to sound bored.
"You will make a public apology to Mr. Potter and Ms. Weasley for insinuating that they are something that they're not." My brows furrowed, my face scowling automatically.
"What?!" I couldn't keep the incredulity out of my voice. "I just called her his little girlfriend! There wasn't anything even remotely insulting!" I defended myself.
McGonagall narrowed her eyes; a frightening sight since it made her look like a blind rat after just being born.
"Very well, Mr. Malfoy; have it your way. You may resign your position as seeker on the Slytherin Quidditch Team," she gave with a curt nod. I knew when I was defeated, and I knew that my beating would be worse, should I lose my position on the Quidditch team than it would be if I chose to publicly humiliate myself by apologizing to Potter and Weasley.
"No, no ma'am, I'll apologize," I grumbled. At her raised eyebrow, I added, "And I'll look sincere about it." She nodded.
"Tomorrow morning, Mr. Malfoy." And she turned and left. When she was out of earshot, I mumbled something very unkind under my breath. Snape almost laughed; then his face turned very grave.
"From now on, Mr. Malfoy, you might want to make sure that your body is in somewhat of a—less aroused state when you have professors come talk to you," He drawled. I looked toward my groin, and sure enough, my sheets were tented. I felt a blush crawl up into my cheeks; I knew what that erection was from…Damn those dreams! I growled and turned over onto my stomach, thinking all the while that I had never been more embarrassed in my life.
~ ~ ~
It was softer than the rest of my skin, smoother. Absently, my fingers traced the scar that was concealed by a glamour charm. My fingernails had grown out in the last couple of weeks, much to mum's delight. Of course, the orderlies had to cut them for the first 5 weeks or so, to prevent me from doing more damage to myself, they said. I felt so strange now. To be out of the hospital, I mean. I'll never forget the look on Mum's face when she came to get me from Saint Mungo's. There was no time for a reunion with my family; besides, I just wanted to get back to Hogwarts and put this crappy chapter behind me. My arrival is a blur, I still don't fully recall the details. My housemates, sweethearts that they are, threw me a party, and unfortunately, all that I remember is being drawn into what seemed like thousands of arms, and hearing, "Welcome back, Ginny!" millions and billions of times. When the crowd parted, I looked expectantly for Harry…but he wasn't there, surprise, surprise. Hermione took my hand and I allowed her to lead me to my room. When we arrived, she sat me down on my bed, then rummaged through my drawers, nervously unfolding and re-folding every item that I owned. I sat with her in silence, happy for the break from the noise. When she had creased the last pair of (very virginal!) knickers, she slammed the drawer and, shaking, finally turned around to face me. I looked at her expectantly, for there was no doubt in my mind what would come next out of those trembling lips. And I was correct.
Wringing her hands, Hermione asked me the one question I didn't know how to answer.
A/N Hey guys! I am sooooo sorry about the delay, I've had this chapter written for ages, but I moved and didn't find my disks until tonight. So, here's this chapter….and the next will be soon. Take Care, and thanks to all who stayed with me.