Author's Note:
Oh my God!!! Reviews galore! Thanks so much to all of you who took the time to review
smiles... Oh, and I fixed the thing with Roger Davies (blushes with embarrassment)
thanks to Umi Yukino for pointing that out. And don't worry, frodo, something is coming up,
just for you (hehe, read on and then you'll See what may come in the next couple of
chapters.) Thanks for the Reviews again... Ack, enough of my babbling for now... you want
to read the story...
Chapter Twenty Eight: A Not-So-Pleasant Surprise
None of those on the dance floor noticed a pair of cold gray eyes staring from the
shadows, observing every move, taking it all in. The icy eyes flickered from the black robed,
strapping young man with blond hair and the slender young girl in his arms, who had a
seemingly shimmering gown, and long, sleek brown hair, to the tall, beautiful blonde witch
in aquamarine robes dancing with the dark haired potions professor. The eyes filled with
abhorrence. So, this is how it was, was it? ...
The music died away, and Lucius Malfoy stepped out of the shadows.
There were small gasps from intimidated students, as well as from the staff, and
those who had seen Draco and Hermione. There was no telling what he would do to them,
or to his wife, for that matter.
Narcissa looked up from the arms of Severus Snape. What she saw made her freeze
in fear. Severus looked at her, the scared look in her blue eyes, the sadness, bitterness,
resentment, that undeniable touch of hatred.
Narcissa saw her husband glance at her, with a look that demanded an explanation,
but an air that suggested they would have it out later. Then, he headed towards their son,
who was oblivious to his father's presence.
"Oh my God!" whispered Hermione, a terrified look in her eyes.
"What's the--" Draco began, but was unable to finish
A strong hand yanked on his arm, turning him around to make him come face to face
with his father.
Draco swallowed, hard. What the hell was his father doing here? Wasn't he
supposed to be locked away in Azkaban? How did he get out?
The sneer on Lucius Malfoy's face, and the outraged look in his eyes spoke more
than words could. And then, it was replaced by a stony mask. "Draco, what are you
doing?"
"I was dancing," he replied, simply, but with a tone of arrogance that he had
mastered early on.
"With a mudblood?" he asked, spitting the last word out in disgust. "What have I
told you of such foolishness? You are a Malfoy, and above such things," he scoffed. "I will
simply not stand for it."
Draco felt the anger rising in him. The anger that his father had caused over the
span of many years. The anger started by the beatings, the beatings of himself and his
mother. The anger caused by the abuse, caused by pain of being put under the Cruciatious
curse so many times that he seemed numb to the anguish. The anger caused by watching
his mother endure the same, as she gave up on begging for mercy long ago, and instead
resolved to stay silent, tears streaming down her cheeks, eyes red-rimmed, as she would
bite her lip and hold back the cries that threatened to escape; it would end sooner that way.
The anger caused by years of misery, years of imprisonment in their own house, years of
living in fear. But, he resolved, this was the end.
This was it; he could stand it no longer. They would no longer live that way; death
would be a far fairer fortune. Draco looked at his father, eyes burning with hatred, but
otherwise cool in his deportment, head held high, staring into those loathsome gray eyes,
that held none of the newfound warmth of his own, none of the compassion, exposing the
elder Malfoy's incapacity to do one of the most human of things. Incapable of love. He
took a breath and uttered three simple words, three words that any day before he would
not have dared to speak to his father in such an insolent manner.
"I don't care."
Lucius stared unblinking. "You what?" he asked, menacingly.
Draco was livid, it was evident in his eyes, but he did not allow his cool demeanor to
fade. This was how the game was played. "You heard me. I don't care what you think. I
love Hermione. I love her with all my heart. And I'll tell you something else. I'm sick and
tired of you and your pureblood mania. I'm sick and tired of you trying your best to make
the lives of those around you miserable. I'm sick and tired of the beatings, sick and tired of
being put under the Cruciatious curse. I'm sick and tired of having to watch my mother
endure the pain and anguish you have caused her, sick and tired of watching her cry herself
to sleep when you are not there, and cry alone, hidden from the eyes of the world when you
are. I'm sick and tired of the way you treat her, as if she was worth nothing, when my
mother is likely the bravest, most caring person I know, and you don't know how to
appreciate that! I'm sick and tired of you telling me how to run my life, and how to live it.
But most of all, I'm sick and tired of YOU!
Lucius's eyes glimmered dangerously. "Is that so?" He paused. "Well, I never knew
you felt that way." The look in his eyes was treacherous, and turned as though to leave,
but then whirled about and pulled out his wand.
"Crucio"
Draco felt as though a million knives were penetrating his flesh. The pain was
staggering. It was just like all those times before. If engulfed him, and seemed to come
from the inside out. He burned, everywhere. He burned with pain. He was blinded by it.
SLAP!
Lucius Malfoy looked up, stunned. His face burned, and he felt the side of his cheek,
where a pale, milky skinned, delicate hand had left a large red mark, which seemed to
throb.
Narcissa had hit him with all the strength she could muster, charging at him as she
saw the evil glint in his eyes, when he turned away from their son.
Her eyes met those of her husband. She looked at him in contempt, disgust, and
something more: a complete loathing.
Lucius was about to open his mouth when she stopped him.
"Listen to me Lucius Malfoy and listen very carefully. I put up with all your problems
for far too long. I was always there to try to support you, and what type of thanks did I
get? Nothing. None. Nada. Zilch. A marriage is supposed to be a two way street, but
ours never was, was it? No, I was nothing more than your trophy wife, to sit with you at
meals, comfort your bed, and talk to you sometimes. You were a different man when we
were first married. You knew how to live; you knew how to love. But the Dark Lord
consumed your life, your service to him a constant source of anguish to our family, to me,
to our son. You never cared about Draco; you were never the father you should have been.
You were never there for him, for us. Using the unforgivable curses is not the way to
punish a child. You were never the type of father—"
She paused when she saw her husband's face.
Lucius sneered, and raised an eyebrow, cockily. "Quiet, Narcissa. I will take no
more of this nonsense. You are coming with me, back to the Manor. You are incapable of a
single thing; no wonder that fool Dumbledore chose to hire you. All those on the staff are
nothing but complete riffraff." He took her small wrist in his hand, forcefully. "And I will
deal with your son as soon as he comes back for summer. You both will pay dearly for this
embarrassment."
His demeanor earned him a smirk, as she stood rooted to the spot where she was
standing, refusing to move a single inch, clearly adding to his vehemence. "Oh, but don't
you understand, Lucius?" Narcissa continued, this time sardonically, "It's over between us.
I will not continue to live this way, to live in fear. I will never again endure pain because of
your malice. If you want to go off and serve that snake of a person you call Voldemort,
then by all means do so, but I will have no part in it, and neither will my son."
The effect of these words was difficult to measure. In one sweeping blow, Narcissa
had denounced him, utterly and completely, his skills as a parent, his love as a husband,
everything. But more than anything else, his wife had just left him, and made clear that
her son was with her.
He made a move to lunge at her, but was held back by the combined efforts of
Professors Dumbledore, Snape, and Hagrid.
Dumbledore led the screaming, enraged man out of the Great Hall, but before he
walked out, he met Draco's eyes and shouted, "I have not finished with you yet, boy! When
I do, you will regret the day you were born... And Narcisssa, you no good excuse for a wife,
I'll get you, all of you..."
Author's Note (yes, again!)
Another chapter up. I hope that wasn't as predictable as my others have been,
lmao Anywhoo, more will be explained about how Lucius managed to get out of Azkaban
in the next chapter. I'll update Thursday night, since I have a final exam on Thursday and
don't want to be up late the night before writing (Though who knows? I seem to get inspired
at the oddest of times, hehe...)
Well, please review, let me know what you thought, offer suggestions, yadayadayada.
And as always, Thanks for your time,
E. Caddy Compson (persephoneia)