Took a while, I know, sorry guys. Enjoy! This one has a little more insight into what we all know is going on in Draco's life at this point.
Chapter 5
And life is too much like a pathless wood
Where your face burns and tickles with the cobwebs
Broken across it, and one eye is weeping
From a twig's having lashed across it open…
"Can I ask you something?"
"Hmm?" was the only response I received. Hermione did not even lift her head to look at me, even though I was serious and rather desired her attention.
"Do you like your parents?"
She did look up at this, her eyebrows drawing together in slight confusion. "Why?" she countered. "Don't you?"
I shrugged with false nonchalance. "I don't really know my parents."
She studied me, as if silently choosing her next words very carefully. It was not exactly commonplace for us to have a conversation such as this one, let alone for me to be the one to initiate it. "Do you like what you do know?"
I hesitated. I had been about to say no flat out before I thought better of it and realized that wasn't entirely true. "My mum's all right I suppose."
I stopped here.
Apparently I had given something away without really meaning to, judging by the eyebrow she cocked. "But not your father?"
I snickered bitterly at this. "Let's put it this way: do you like my father?"
"No."
The response was immediate and it disconcerted me slightly, not that I could blame her. It was the answer I had anticipated and it would have unnerved me still more if she had replied in the affirmative.
She quite resolutely returned to her work, silently implying that it was not something she cared to discuss. I couldn't hold her responsible for that reaction either. As far as she was concerned, I was my father's son. Contact with me on her part was probably something barely tolerated by her friends and even Dumbledore for that matter. We both knew more about what secrets the other had without letting on about it and it was an unspoken pact we had made. We would not talk about it. We wouldn't acknowledge that there was a war going on and that when we were finally called upon to fight, we would most likely be on opposing sides of it.
I cringed inwardly at the thought of my fast-approaching eighteenth birthday. I had managed not to think about it much over the summer holidays, but now that school had started up again it was like an oncoming unstoppable freight train. And to think some teens would actually be thrilled at the idea of their parents condoning a tattoo. I smiled slightly at this ironic thought.
"What?"
I jumped a little in my seat and cursed my ill composure when I did. I shook my head.
"Nothing."
I had fully intended to stay on during the Christmas holidays. I was rather in the mood to have the common room and dormitories all to myself and perhaps catch up on the mountain of homework I had received (which Hermione insisted I finish myself before helping me with corrections) in preparation for N.E.W.T.s. However, I soon discovered that my father had other plans that quite conflicted with my own.
I jerked back, startled when my family's large eagle owl swooped down in front of my face and landed somewhat roughly on the table, irritably shaking it's left leg when it stepped into my pudding. Reluctantly I slipped a miniscule scroll of parchment from the foot that wasn't encrusted with food and quickly stole a scrap of chicken from Nott's plate, allowing her to nip it from my fingers. Ignoring Pansy's attempts to discreetly read over my shoulder, I opened the small note and began to read.
You will return home with the other students on the seventh of next month. We have things to discuss.
There was no signature, but it was my father's sketchy yet elegant penmanship. The vagueness and lack of identification were employed in case the owl was intercepted, I knew, yet, I couldn't help wondering how pointless this was without the utilization of an anonymous bird.
I crumpled the paper and stuffed it into and inner pocket of my robes, wishing he would have left out the reference to why he wanted me home. Despite the message's cryptic nature, I had a feeling I knew what "things" he wanted to discuss. My birthday was coming up in January. Old enough to graduate. Old enough to be considered an adult in the eyes of the Muggle world as well as the Wizarding one. Old enough to be initiated into the service of the Dark Lord.
I glanced around at my surroundings. Most of the people in close proximity to me would be initiated before graduation. They had known for years. I had known for years. But now that the time had come, it didn't seem so simple.
I used to be so sure. I knew my place. I liked my place. After all, hadn't I always taken great pleasure in the idea that Potter considered me one of his top enemies? Hadn't I prided myself in the fact that my friends and subsequently, my House considered me their designated leader? Who was I if not the pureblood Slytherin prince my reputation made me out to be? Who would I be if not a Death Eater? Who was I if I wasn't sure anymore?
For all my influence, I was raised to be a follower. To live in the service of something greater than yourself is supposed to be noble. But this, to me, seemed…cowardly. Part of me wondered if it was better to die on your feet than live on your knees.
I sighed. Of course, that was the problem. I would die. How long would I last if I voiced these concerns to my father? Or worse-backed out once I was already in? Deserters were not tolerated. I knew that much. Best case scenario, I would be disowned. Completely cut off. As destitute as a Weasley.
Looking up from my plate again, I caught Hermione gazing questioningly at me from across the Hall. I simply shook my head at her and averted my eyes. Even if I had had the opportunity to explain to her away from prying ears, I doubt I would have told her. That would be breaking our silent agreement, wouldn't it? I could just picture the disapproval I her eyes.
Of course, this raised another nagging question. When had I grown to respect her opinion? Why did I care? What was this?
Enemies? No.
Friendship? Hardly.
I didn't want to be enemies. I didn't want to be friends. I wanted…
I didn't know what I wanted.
Comments please. :)
