Christmas proves to be as miserable as any holiday in the Malfoy household. In the coldness of his fathers stone estate Draco sits at the family table. Other than his mother there is no one there he has any interest in seeing but her silence has made him regret leaving. Across from his mother and down from his father. The three are alone save for an aged servant remaining in the shadows of the large room. Like Draco she does not wish to be there. No one in the house wants to be there.
Like clockwork his father's voice pierces the silence but it is only to add more cold to the already icy atmosphere. Even before the man speaks Draco knows what he will say and despite it all he feels his head lower in anticipated shame. In the corner of his eye he can see his mother's eyes wander towards him. They show a flash of sympathy but just like the times before leave him in exchange for the food on her plate.
As his father's words fades into the distance behind him Draco feels his mind shift to Angelina. He does not understand her. Despite everything, her actions toward him had yet to change. She did not treat him like the enemy he had tried to become nor did she treat him as she would a fellow student. No, the way she treated him was far worse. She was...indifferent.
He wanted her to hate him as much as he hated her. Her hatred would be all he needed to cure himself of his unexplained need for her.
Wrapped in these thoughts the young man hadn't realized his father's words had ended, nor had his ears picked up the sound of the man's shoes as they stormed in his direction. Had Hogwarts not dulled his senses perhaps the full weight of his father's hand would not have been able to make contact with his face, the force of which sent a familiar liquid trailing from his nostril. "You will speak when spoken to" his Father recites and for a moment Draco feels four years old again.
Looking down at his blood splattered food Draco loses his already failing appetite but knowing better does not leave the table until he is excused.
When the "holliday" is over only his mother stands at the train tracks to wish him well but his father's absence is more of a relief than disappointment. His mother hugs him as if he were made of glass and then kisses him as if his forehead were porcelain. Her face remains stoic and he imagines that his own look mimics her own. His mother leaves with not another words and Draco is grateful for the action.
He sits alone lifting a hand to his swollen cheek only after the train has left. The next time someone slapped him would not be for another week.