Chapter 50 – Christmas morning 2
Malfoy Manor was silent on Christmas morning. No children were running around happily and the gift exchange had already happened. It had started in the early morning hours, after everyone woke up as early as usual -a Malfoy would never sleep in- and ended in constrained thanksgivings.
Scorpius had opened the packages under the watchful eye of three adults and nodded a thank you for every one he opened. For a moment his eyes had light up when he had seen Draco's handmade journal with the Emblem of the House Malfoy on it, but Lucius had made a disparaging remark and urged Scorpius on to open the rest.
Draco had seen his sons reaction and had wanted to hex his father with something. His son's shoulders had slumped down and he had to open the rest without another word but muttered thanks. Only the last present had been opened without a thank you. It had been small and revealed a kerchief with the Malfoy Crest embodied on it, together with a small note, that Scorpius had hidden in his pocket. When Lucius had inquired about the gift Scorpius had mumbled something about someone from school and sending a letter, while not looking at the old man at all.
Of course that had made his father deliver the speech of how a Malfoy should behave in public and Scorpius had left the room without another word just afterwards. Obviously, Lucius Malfoy had berated Draco for his deficient parenting again as soon as his grandson had left. Which left Draco in an even worse mood than before the holidays, which he had thought to be impossible.
His competitors had finished their new broom right before Christmas, and his sales had dropped far behind prognoses. He had spent the last few days just before Christmas working out a strategy to get his company back on track as soon as the new year started, but hadn't been able to come up with a plan or invention to help him along. He had miscalculated the time they would need to get their broom on the market and now it bit him in the ass. There was no way he wanted to take second or third place behind anyone. If there was one thing he agreed on with his father, it was that a Malfoy always wanted to be the number one. After a childhood in the shadows of others he knew it wasn't always possible, but that would never keep him from trying. He had to make up for his failure and show his rivals how much better his ideas were, all he needed was a new, better idea than their broom. Which wasn't as easy as he wanted it to be and left him brooding.
That he hadn't got the guts to write a letter to Granger, asking for answers didn't make it any better.
He had heard from her, but only because she was worried about his son, and not because she wanted to see him again. The message had come with a small Christmas present, in form of a box he hadn't opened yet.
It had been just another low blow. He knew he had sworn to himself to wait until she wrote first, but after weeks of silence he knew he was simply a coward, afraid she would dismiss what they had shared. Now he had a letter, but it came with more questions than answers.
He knew Hermione believed the story she told him, and growing up a Pureblood, he knew magic could make unbelievable things happen. Why else would Potter be alive after the Killing Curse hit him twice.
What worried him was the way Hermione was intent on his son, but dismissed the sex they had without a second word. They had talked about the man she had loved, this distorted version of himself. In some ways his other version had traits Draco envied him, but he didn't want to be filled with hate for his own father, only living for payback and the rare moments spent with a lover and his son. To him it sounded like an empty and harsh life.
He couldn't understand how his father still held into the old beliefs, but it was still his father. The man who had sat him down and explained magic to him, the man who had showed him how to ride a broom, the man who never showed his love openly but cried after they lost the war, because his family was finally safe. They would disagree on Draco's parenting skills, but Lucius Malfoy would never harm his family with anything but harsh words. Draco wasn't even sure if his father bothered to think about how hurtful he was towards his grandchild. All his father ever told him was that Scorpius was too soft and needed to grow stronger, more cunning, to make the Malfoy name proud. Sometimes Draco thought his own father hoped to make Scorpius strong enough to stand above all the rumours that accompanied the Malfoy name even now, twenty years after the war.
And then there was Hermione, who gave his son presents that made him smile, 'cause Draco was rather sure the kerchief came from her. The woman, his son told him, talked to him and obvious made him feel safe enough to try to push his own father into her arms. Draco envied his other self and his son, for the love she so openly shared, but he wasn't sure if it was what he wanted. Not because he wouldn't appreciate it, but because he felt like he would always just be the second choice. The man she took, cause her loved one was gone.
Draco came out of his thoughts for a second and looked around the empty sitting room. He hadn't moved since his father had stopped talking and still sat in the chair not far from the Christmas tree. Everyone had gone to take care of their own preferred activity, leaving him to his thoughts. He knew it was for the best, because he had plans to make.
I can't decide if I like Lucius or not.. Anyway I can finally stop writing about Christmas. Please let me know what you think, I really love your comments!