AN: Having never actually finished a story before, I was a bit unsure of
how to do it. If it's horrible, ghastly, sickening, or anything else then
please, tell me so.
Thanks to GaBoO for reviewing.
Disclaimer: I own nothing from Harry Potter.
Part Five
Draco sits in his study, drinking wine. Red is his drink of choice, although sometimes he gets the urge for whiskey. His expression is distant, he is lost in thought of another place and another time. Much time has passed since then. The War is over, and Draco is twenty-five.
MacNair died that night. It seemed that Draco hit him with one curse too many, and the fall damaged his brain.
Something inside Draco died that night too. That was the night he was captured, taken to Ministry Headquarters and put under the influence of Veritaserum, robbed of all dignity and pride. Many wanted to put him into Azkaban, and he served his time there for two years, whilst the Side of Light, with the new information he had given them set about ending the war with new enthusiasm. Barely five months had passed before Voldemort was dead, killed by Harry Potter, and order began to be restored to the wizarding community at last.
Draco knows all this because three months later, Severus came to see him in Azkaban. He barely remembers this, slumped in a cell corner, only vaguely aware of Severus's soft tones as he told him the news. Then they took him out. His place as son of the Malfoy family was resumed, and people went about their business as normal. Five years later, Draco was old news.
His father had escaped capture. Narcissa had died during the war, in a flurry of Aurors searching the manor. Lucius claimed under the use of a truth potion that he was only acting under the Imperius curse. To this day, Draco does not know how he managed that one.
Draco stops thinking, and stands up, walking to the window. He rents a flat in London, and it looks over Diagon Alley. It is late evening now, the shops are closed, with the Leaky Cauldron just opening for the night. Draco closes his eyes, his mood melancholy, his spirits low. He gets moods like these, where all the past does is haunt him and he cannot shake the memories of Azkaban.
Once Draco had returned to normal life, he did his duty for his father and married. His wife bore a healthy son, and so continued the family line. Draco does not love Blaise, but he respects her, and in turn she respects him. Their son in one year old. Draco knows he will not do the same to his own as was done to him.
He has at least that much humanity left in him.
Lucius sees Draco rarely. He is now proud of his son, although he was angry for many years at letting himself be captured. But how can Lucius fault Draco for something when he did not see himself?
As Draco leans against the window, a movement steps lightly into the back of the room. "Did you get him off to sleep eventually?" Draco calls softly, thinking it would be Blaise.
"I passed him on the way. He was sleeping most peacefully," Lucius says.
Draco's eyes open, but he does not turn round. The air goes slightly surreal, as it always does when he sees Lucius. He does not know why he is here. They have made no arrangement.
Draco sighs, and eventually turns to look at the man who sired him. "A bottle of red is already open," he offers eventually. Draco feels nothing for Lucius. After MacNair died, so too did Draco's capacity to love. Lucius is just a man who Draco is bound to.
Lucius ignores Draco's gesture, and sits down. Draco stares at him. For years Lucius' appearance never changed, he always looked young, as if time could never touch him. That is no longer the case. Lucius' eyes have lost their cunning, their spark, his hair has lost its lustre and he just looks...older.
Lucius noticed Draco's gaze. "I miss your mother," he says, as a way of explanation. Draco does not feel anything by this statement. Narcissa abandoned him a long time before he abandoned Lucius.
Draco sits down opposite his father. "To what do I owe this occasion?" he asks finally.
"I think it's time we talked about things, don't you?" Lucius says, without expression.
Their eyes lock. They look so similar, the only difference between them is time. Draco hopes that Blaise will soon come in and break up this charade. He has no desire to see his father.
"I owe you an apology. I should never have let you go to MacNair," Lucius states.
Draco raises an eyebrow. Where is this leading? Lucius continues. "You were so young. But I could not have let you stayed the way you were. Do you understand?"
"I loved you. Love is not an acceptable emotion for a Malfoy."
"You did just more than love me. You idolized me. You would have given your last breath for me. But that was dangerous. I knew that in order to become the man that you ought to have become you had to learn to control your emotion, shut it off. A Malfoy cannot afford to love, or want, or hope. They are weaknesses that others can take advantages of, and no ground can be given when it comes to predators. I had to send you to MacNair. I went through the same thing when I was growing up."
Draco stays silent. Lucius tries again. "But I am sorry I sent you, because it broke you. I had thought you were stronger than you were, I did not realise the effect it would have, how you turned out when you became a Death Eater. Although your emotion had gone, you still had some sort of spark inside you, fed by that infernal wand. And you led them right to us. Because of the type of person I wanted you to be."
"You're wrong, father. My emotion did not die under MacNair. I had hate. And I still had love. Just not for you anymore. I loved MacNair. I loved him because he took time with me. He gave me the attention and care than no- one else took. He was always there for me."
Lucius looks confused. "But he beat you," he says.
Draco smiles, but it is a cold smile, without warmth or laughter. "He did, and far worse besides. But at least he moulded me into the acceptable form for your son to be, and to me that meant everything. Until the night he died. Then I realised I wasn't trying to please you anymore, but him."
Lucius feels a surge of emotion inside himself. Inwardly he feels a sudden horror, for such emotion he has not felt since he saw the body of his wife after the Aurors had killed her for obstructing their way. He chokes, unable to deal with this abrupt feeling. He cannot identify it. But it is taking over him, and he does not know what to do.
Draco watches. He does not understand either the emotions on Lucius's face, as it seems as if the older man is in pain. He remembers abruptly that his grandfather died of a heart attack, and he leans forward, not out of concern, but out of curiosity. "Are you alright?" he asks.
Lucius manages to get his emotions under control, although he now realises what has just been running through him. Jealousy. Pure and simple. And rage. How dare Draco have not loved him for another? How dare Draco have disobeyed him? He had sent Draco away to get over him, and had always been secure in that knowledge, until recently when he had even felt something akin to remorse for his actions. And Draco had betrayed him, like this.
"You were always my son, Draco," he whispers at last.
Draco stands, his interest waned. "I was only your son when it suited. The rest of the time I was not even part of your existence. Now, I have a wife and a son to give my attention. I think its time you took your leave, father."
Lucius rises, and walks over. He raises a hand to Draco's cheek, but Draco turns his head away. In that moment, Lucius realises he has lost his son. And then he realises how much he meant to him, but never appreciated.
He is rejected. Lucius turns away, broken, and leaves Draco's home. Draco stands there, locked in that same pose, pulse beginning to quicken, some of those same old feelings that he had thought were completely gone as he processed the events that had just happened. He has banished Lucius from his life. Now he can move on and begin properly, with no shadows hanging over him from his previous life. In a few short years, Lucius will die, Draco knows, and he will take over as head of the Malfoy family. But he will not live in Malfoy Manor again. It holds too many memories for him.
Draco turns back to the window, and barely notices when two hands encircle his waist and hold him close until after some minutes have passed. Then he looks down, and turns around, and holds Blaise in an embrace that he has not given anyone in a long time. She is confused by his sudden behaviour, and looks up at him, eyes searching for his answer. In return, he drops a light kiss on her lips, and nuzzles his cheek against hers.
"I got him off to sleep," she murmurs. Draco holds her back and walks to the room where his son lies sleeping. Looking down at him, he admires his likeness, with the soft blonde curls resting on his baby's head, the fists closed in sleep. And for the first time, Draco feels something. Pride. He knows he will not fail his son when he gets older. He is not Lucius.
Thanks to GaBoO for reviewing.
Disclaimer: I own nothing from Harry Potter.
Part Five
Draco sits in his study, drinking wine. Red is his drink of choice, although sometimes he gets the urge for whiskey. His expression is distant, he is lost in thought of another place and another time. Much time has passed since then. The War is over, and Draco is twenty-five.
MacNair died that night. It seemed that Draco hit him with one curse too many, and the fall damaged his brain.
Something inside Draco died that night too. That was the night he was captured, taken to Ministry Headquarters and put under the influence of Veritaserum, robbed of all dignity and pride. Many wanted to put him into Azkaban, and he served his time there for two years, whilst the Side of Light, with the new information he had given them set about ending the war with new enthusiasm. Barely five months had passed before Voldemort was dead, killed by Harry Potter, and order began to be restored to the wizarding community at last.
Draco knows all this because three months later, Severus came to see him in Azkaban. He barely remembers this, slumped in a cell corner, only vaguely aware of Severus's soft tones as he told him the news. Then they took him out. His place as son of the Malfoy family was resumed, and people went about their business as normal. Five years later, Draco was old news.
His father had escaped capture. Narcissa had died during the war, in a flurry of Aurors searching the manor. Lucius claimed under the use of a truth potion that he was only acting under the Imperius curse. To this day, Draco does not know how he managed that one.
Draco stops thinking, and stands up, walking to the window. He rents a flat in London, and it looks over Diagon Alley. It is late evening now, the shops are closed, with the Leaky Cauldron just opening for the night. Draco closes his eyes, his mood melancholy, his spirits low. He gets moods like these, where all the past does is haunt him and he cannot shake the memories of Azkaban.
Once Draco had returned to normal life, he did his duty for his father and married. His wife bore a healthy son, and so continued the family line. Draco does not love Blaise, but he respects her, and in turn she respects him. Their son in one year old. Draco knows he will not do the same to his own as was done to him.
He has at least that much humanity left in him.
Lucius sees Draco rarely. He is now proud of his son, although he was angry for many years at letting himself be captured. But how can Lucius fault Draco for something when he did not see himself?
As Draco leans against the window, a movement steps lightly into the back of the room. "Did you get him off to sleep eventually?" Draco calls softly, thinking it would be Blaise.
"I passed him on the way. He was sleeping most peacefully," Lucius says.
Draco's eyes open, but he does not turn round. The air goes slightly surreal, as it always does when he sees Lucius. He does not know why he is here. They have made no arrangement.
Draco sighs, and eventually turns to look at the man who sired him. "A bottle of red is already open," he offers eventually. Draco feels nothing for Lucius. After MacNair died, so too did Draco's capacity to love. Lucius is just a man who Draco is bound to.
Lucius ignores Draco's gesture, and sits down. Draco stares at him. For years Lucius' appearance never changed, he always looked young, as if time could never touch him. That is no longer the case. Lucius' eyes have lost their cunning, their spark, his hair has lost its lustre and he just looks...older.
Lucius noticed Draco's gaze. "I miss your mother," he says, as a way of explanation. Draco does not feel anything by this statement. Narcissa abandoned him a long time before he abandoned Lucius.
Draco sits down opposite his father. "To what do I owe this occasion?" he asks finally.
"I think it's time we talked about things, don't you?" Lucius says, without expression.
Their eyes lock. They look so similar, the only difference between them is time. Draco hopes that Blaise will soon come in and break up this charade. He has no desire to see his father.
"I owe you an apology. I should never have let you go to MacNair," Lucius states.
Draco raises an eyebrow. Where is this leading? Lucius continues. "You were so young. But I could not have let you stayed the way you were. Do you understand?"
"I loved you. Love is not an acceptable emotion for a Malfoy."
"You did just more than love me. You idolized me. You would have given your last breath for me. But that was dangerous. I knew that in order to become the man that you ought to have become you had to learn to control your emotion, shut it off. A Malfoy cannot afford to love, or want, or hope. They are weaknesses that others can take advantages of, and no ground can be given when it comes to predators. I had to send you to MacNair. I went through the same thing when I was growing up."
Draco stays silent. Lucius tries again. "But I am sorry I sent you, because it broke you. I had thought you were stronger than you were, I did not realise the effect it would have, how you turned out when you became a Death Eater. Although your emotion had gone, you still had some sort of spark inside you, fed by that infernal wand. And you led them right to us. Because of the type of person I wanted you to be."
"You're wrong, father. My emotion did not die under MacNair. I had hate. And I still had love. Just not for you anymore. I loved MacNair. I loved him because he took time with me. He gave me the attention and care than no- one else took. He was always there for me."
Lucius looks confused. "But he beat you," he says.
Draco smiles, but it is a cold smile, without warmth or laughter. "He did, and far worse besides. But at least he moulded me into the acceptable form for your son to be, and to me that meant everything. Until the night he died. Then I realised I wasn't trying to please you anymore, but him."
Lucius feels a surge of emotion inside himself. Inwardly he feels a sudden horror, for such emotion he has not felt since he saw the body of his wife after the Aurors had killed her for obstructing their way. He chokes, unable to deal with this abrupt feeling. He cannot identify it. But it is taking over him, and he does not know what to do.
Draco watches. He does not understand either the emotions on Lucius's face, as it seems as if the older man is in pain. He remembers abruptly that his grandfather died of a heart attack, and he leans forward, not out of concern, but out of curiosity. "Are you alright?" he asks.
Lucius manages to get his emotions under control, although he now realises what has just been running through him. Jealousy. Pure and simple. And rage. How dare Draco have not loved him for another? How dare Draco have disobeyed him? He had sent Draco away to get over him, and had always been secure in that knowledge, until recently when he had even felt something akin to remorse for his actions. And Draco had betrayed him, like this.
"You were always my son, Draco," he whispers at last.
Draco stands, his interest waned. "I was only your son when it suited. The rest of the time I was not even part of your existence. Now, I have a wife and a son to give my attention. I think its time you took your leave, father."
Lucius rises, and walks over. He raises a hand to Draco's cheek, but Draco turns his head away. In that moment, Lucius realises he has lost his son. And then he realises how much he meant to him, but never appreciated.
He is rejected. Lucius turns away, broken, and leaves Draco's home. Draco stands there, locked in that same pose, pulse beginning to quicken, some of those same old feelings that he had thought were completely gone as he processed the events that had just happened. He has banished Lucius from his life. Now he can move on and begin properly, with no shadows hanging over him from his previous life. In a few short years, Lucius will die, Draco knows, and he will take over as head of the Malfoy family. But he will not live in Malfoy Manor again. It holds too many memories for him.
Draco turns back to the window, and barely notices when two hands encircle his waist and hold him close until after some minutes have passed. Then he looks down, and turns around, and holds Blaise in an embrace that he has not given anyone in a long time. She is confused by his sudden behaviour, and looks up at him, eyes searching for his answer. In return, he drops a light kiss on her lips, and nuzzles his cheek against hers.
"I got him off to sleep," she murmurs. Draco holds her back and walks to the room where his son lies sleeping. Looking down at him, he admires his likeness, with the soft blonde curls resting on his baby's head, the fists closed in sleep. And for the first time, Draco feels something. Pride. He knows he will not fail his son when he gets older. He is not Lucius.