Music I listened to while writing : Kagayaku Sora no - Kalafina

Chapter 10 : The Fabric of Silence

Dorian folded the letter and placed it back into its envelope. He wanted to tear it up but restrained himself. His father's letters were always dreadful, even though he tried to read them with as much indulgence as his father wrote them with clumsiness.

Of course, his father loved him, but he was utterly incapable of expressing it. There was a sort of restraint toward his son, born out of a guilt-ridden conscience for having a child he couldn't protect, a child he brought into the world despite the family's troubled past. A son who would live without a mother to comfort him.

But Dorian was tired of this guilt that marked his father's face every time he looked at his son's wound. He was tired of having to be strong for both of them.

Dorian sighed and absentmindedly stirred his scrambled eggs. He wasn't listening to Nicolas, who was engaged in an animated conversation with Sally Macnair, the lovely Sally.

Dorian had a great deal of admiration for the young girl with black hair and large round glasses, who always remained positive no matter the situation. Nicolas had told him that her past had probably taught her to appreciate life's better sides and not dwell on the bad.

Dorian hadn't asked further questions; he knew about her past. Her father had been the innocent victim of pure-blood fanaticism even before her birth when Macnair, the Death Eater notorious for his cruelty in Voldemort's service, believed that the purity of his blood would be intensified by having a child with his own sister.

Thus, David Macnair was born, who would never know the joy of turning thirty. At 16, when he realized that the disease causing the degeneration of his lungs was due to inbreeding and his father's madness, he fled to the Muggle world, determined to die far from the insanity that tainted his veins.

He wandered through various countries for years and eventually settled in Hungary. Despite his genetic curse, he fell in love with a beautiful Hungarian Muggle woman with ebony hair and blue eyes, who loved him so much that she asked him to marry her.

Touched by the audacity of this non-magical beauty who offered him her heart, he agreed, and they married. Two years later, the beautiful Helena was pregnant, but Sally never met her father, who died before she was born.

"But I look a lot like him," she would say, still smiling.

And Nicolas quickly fell in love with that smile. For those two, everything was so simple; they saw their feelings so clearly. Nott envied them for that.

Dorian looked up at the large door and saw Scorpius entering the Great Hall, followed by Albus, who was always by his side now that Dorian couldn't be. Seeing his friend, Dorian couldn't help but smile. Scorpius wasn't wearing his school robe; it was folded over his arm. He was in uniform, but his shirt was untucked, his tie loosened, and his sleeves rolled up over his pale forearms. It was too much to ask for him to be properly dressed; he always did as he pleased.

At least at Hogwarts, he didn't wear makeup. Dorian didn't like it when Scorpius painted his face, even though he did it beautifully and with finesse. It was another way to provoke and hide how uncomfortable Scorpius felt in public.

Nott was aware of the gazes following his friend: the furtive but intense glances from those trying to conceal their interest in young Malfoy or the frustrated looks from girls who would never be as pretty as he was. The way Potter moved closer to Scorpius's body made Dorian realize that he, too, was aware of the attention Malfoy attracted.

When they saw him, the two Slytherins made their way over and sat beside him at the Gryffindor table, as they sometimes did.

Albus never let Scorpius sit alone at the Lions' table. Dorian was aware of the efforts Potter made to be friendly with him. But he was jealous, Dorian could sense it; he wanted to keep Scorpius all to himself.

Dorian shook Potter's hand, then turned to Malfoy and placed a quick kiss on the boy's temple before handing him his father's letter.

He took it and sighed.

"Good news again?" he said sarcastically as he pulled the letter out of the envelope.

"He says he's disappointed that I'm a Gryffindor and even more disappointed that it was Draco who had to break the news to him."

"It's been over a month since the Sorting," exclaimed Scorpius. "You didn't tell him?"

Dorian shrugged. He gently tugged on the lock of hair that covered his left eye, where a long, thin scar ran across his eyelid, and ignored the question. He had no answer. Scorpius sighed again and shook his head before turning his eyes back to the letter.

Dorian smiled as he looked at the young boy. He didn't have many memories of his previous life, the one where Scorpius wasn't around. It seemed to him that the young boy had always been by his side. He had only vague memories of his attack, of pain and humiliation. His past began when Draco took him to live with the Malfoys in the Muggle world.

He remembered that little round blonde head that followed him everywhere in the gardens of the manor where they had spent the last few years.

Everything had seemed so strange to him in this new world; everything was new—the lights, the colors...

And those simple and "magical" words that came out of the mouths of the local children who would come to play with them: the noisy things that made Scorpius grip his hand tightly with his small fingers were called "cars."

You weren't supposed to put insects in the "microwave." He had cried when "Edward Scissorhands" came on the "television" and made Scorpius promise not to tell anyone.

And then there was the "internet." Draco said it was the invention closest to magic in the Muggle world. Because with the internet, you could do everything: read books or the newspaper, watch movies, shop, hire staff, manage your bank account, talk to strangers and make friends… or discover sex.

The Malfoys had been reluctant to install a "computer" in the manor, but eventually, they gave in to the boys. However, after a few tries, it seemed difficult to pry Narcissa away from it, as she searched for cupcake recipes and consulted all the astrology sites on the web, though she found Muggle knowledge of astronomy very limited.

Dorian felt comfortable among the Malfoys, and Draco wanted him to feel as surrounded as Scorpius was. He made no distinction between Dorian and his own son, though his eyes had a special glint when he looked at his child.

Despite his adoration for his grandson, Lucius had paternal advice for Dorian. The former Death Eater probably felt obligated to care for Nott, whose grandfather faced an unenviable fate that Lucius himself should have endured. He regularly reminded them not to frighten the Muggle servants. With house elves banned, they had to find new staff, and Dorian and Scorpius had fun terrorizing them by slamming doors, making the paintings tremble, or simply moving objects. Releasing a Boggart in the living room had driven the maids completely mad, and Draco had to cast a memory charm on the terrified women.

The years passed in a carefree manner, allowing Dorian to heal his wounds—both those of his body and his soul. But the faint pain that occasionally throbbed in his eye reminded him to be wary of others.

Only Scorpius had all his trust. Scorpius, who was changing over time. His legs were growing longer, and his mouth was becoming full and red. His round childlike face was turning into a perfect soft oval, where two gray pearls shone. And when he took Nott's hand, Dorian's heart would pound furiously in his chest.

Yet, he never regretted that sweet kiss, moist and tender, that he had stolen with all the clumsiness of childhood.

He had taken his hand and led him to the lake, behind the large oak where they had already carved their names and where they loved to come and read. Dorian had taken his face in his hands, run his fingers through his long blond hair, and kissed him. And his heart had stopped. The kiss was tender, and when Dorian broke it and pulled back, still holding Scorpius's face in his trembling hands, Scorpius asked, completely disinterested, "Can we go play now?"

Dorian had laughed at the boy's indifferent expression, though he himself felt feverish.

From then on, whenever they were alone, Dorian would take Scorpius's hand and caress the back of his fingers with his own.

Yet, he never kissed Scorpius's lips again. The curiosity had passed, and it no longer interested him. Dorian didn't think it was about unhealthy feelings or romantic passions. He simply found the boy incredibly pretty. Like a real doll.

And the more beautiful Malfoy became, the more his mother distanced herself from him, for he was becoming more beautiful than she was. Astoria spent more time with her sister than at the manor. She said she didn't have to suffer for the mistakes of her husband's family. Dorian was disgusted by this mother's jealousy of her own child, but Scorpius didn't suffer from it.

His father was his whole world.

The young boy knew the role Draco had played during the war; he hadn't hidden anything from him. It was necessary to explain the looks and remarks people made in the streets or the death threats that came through letters and howlers. It was necessary to explain Dorian's injury and their flight.

What was the point of lying? Draco had told him everything.

Despite this, Scorpius never judged or rejected his father or grandfather for their past actions. He didn't want to hurt them. He accepted them without words but not without difficulty, as he had lost weight that he never regained.

Dorian remembered that warm night when, stepping out onto the veranda, he found Draco and his son sitting in the large rocking chair, gently swaying as they looked at the stars.

Draco had wrapped his left arm around his child and was telling him the story of his constellation while Scorpius gently tapped the long scar that ran down his forearm—a silent way of telling his father that he loved him despite everything.

But since then, Scorpius had developed a suspicious attitude towards other wizards, becoming manipulative and haughty during their outings in the magical world, donning a nonchalant demeanor to hide his discomfort and anger at not being accepted due to his origins. He had built a shell around his heart, and Dorian had watched as Scorpius slowly walled off his feelings. He never spoke of his desire for normalcy, but Dorian knew it was strong. In truth, Scorpius said very little about himself.

And it had gotten worse last year. Dorian never knew what had happened to him, but he suspected. Yet his mind blocked it out, and a dark curtain fell over his thoughts whenever he tried to think about the events of that day.

He had been in Charms class in one of the castle rooms, and Scorpius had his Transfiguration class. But after the lessons, Scorpius didn't come to find him as he usually did. Dorian had run to the room where the class was held and bumped into the young Transfiguration professor in his haste.

"Excuse me, Professor," Dorian said, bowing slightly to the brown-haired professor he had just collided with. "I'm looking for Scorpius. Do you know where he might have gone?"

"No," the professor replied, a little too quickly for Dorian's liking. "No, I don't."

Nott looked at him. Something was different about the man with the loosened tie, bright eyes, and flushed cheeks standing before him. The professor had always had a stern demeanor despite his age. He was a little less than thirty. He was always impeccable, dressed in a gray Muggle suit and a blue silk tie. He slicked back his brown hair, with only a few rebellious strands falling slightly over his cold face, and he would constantly adjust his... glasses?

"You're not wearing your glasses today, Professor?" Dorian asked, sizing him up.

The professor stiffened and pressed his lips together, making them a thin line.

"No," he said curtly, "I forgot them."

He then handed Dorian a letter.

"Can you give this to Mr. Malfoy, please?"

Dorian nodded and took the letter, folded it, and put it in his jacket pocket. When he looked up, the professor had already Disapparated.

Dorian stood alone in front of the classroom door. He didn't know why, but he felt something was wrong, that he needed to enter this room.

He opened the door. The room was perfectly normal—the large desk was tidy, books and notebooks in order. The large window behind the desk was open, though it threatened to let the wind in, making the papers flutter.

Dorian approached to close it, and after turning the latch, he decided to leave the room to find Scorpius.

But something fallen on the floor near one of the desk's legs caught his attention, and he bent down to get a better look.

The professor's glasses lay broken on the ground.

Dorian stood up, a cold sweat running down his back, and he rushed out of the room. And already a black veil was falling over his thoughts, denying him any answers. He only knew he needed to find Scorpius.

They were alone that day in the castle, except for a few servants. The Malfoys had gone to settle financial matters at Gringotts. Their accounts had apparently been audited, which violated the banking confidentiality law.

Dorian had to manage on his own. He searched all the rooms in the manor but found no trace of him. He went out into the garden, calling for his friend. He ran towards the large oak tree near the lake, and finally, he saw him.

"Where were you?" he said, approaching Scorpius. "I've been looking everywhere for you."

Scorpius looked up and smiled.

"I'm here; I didn't disappear. Don't worry."

Dorian wanted to return his smile, but he couldn't. Something about Scorpius's posture troubled him and even scared him.

Malfoy was sitting against the tree, his knees pulled up, and his arms were stiff at his sides, digging his fingers into the ground as if digging his nails into the earth was the only thing keeping him from running away. Weak tremors shook his shoulders. He looked like an animal on alert, fearing a predator.

When Dorian approached him, Scorpius jumped up.

"Let's not stay here. Do you want to show me what you learned in Charms?"

And they had returned to the castle. Scorpius had listened as Dorian told him about the new spell Professor Bail had taught him. But his eyes were glazed over, and his mind seemed elsewhere. Yet, every suspicious noise triggered a new wave of fear within him.

Dorian made no comment but wondered why a creaking door could startle the young boy so much.

That evening, as they were about to go to bed, Scorpius started crying and trembling, pushing Dorian away violently. It was then that Dorian understood what he had been refusing to admit.

He sat on the bed while Scorpius, in his nightshirt, stood trembling, trying to calm himself by wrapping his thin arms around his body. He stood like that for an hour, fidgeting on the spot. Dorian stared into the void, listening to the plaintive sounds his friend was trying to stifle. But he refused to look at him. He didn't know what to do; he was just a child. And Scorpius didn't want his arms around him.

The crying stopped, and Malfoy got under the covers. His cold face betrayed no emotion, though his cheeks were still wet with tears. He lay on his back, straight, staring at the ceiling.

Dorian wanted to turn off the lamp, but Scorpius suddenly sat up:

"No! Leave it on," he said, his icy voice not trembling.

Dorian nodded and lay down beside him but didn't press his body against his as he usually did. Scorpius grabbed his hand under the covers, and Nott squeezed it. He fell asleep like that.

In the night, Dorian woke up, and what he saw froze him with fear. Scorpius hadn't moved; he was still lying on his back, body straight, face fixed, staring at the ceiling with wide-open eyes. With his pale skin and hair perfectly framing his face, he looked like a corpse on his deathbed. Only his eyes, darting around, betrayed that he was still alive. But the way they moved was alarming, as if Scorpius expected to see a hungry monster emerge from the shadows.

Dorian watched his friend like that but said nothing, his hand still tightly holding Scorpius's.

Sleep must have taken him because when he woke up the next morning, Scorpius was sitting on the bed, facing the light filtering through the window. When he sensed Dorian stirring beside him, he turned to him and smiled. His face was clear, with no shadow marring it. But his fingers were still tightly gripping Dorian's hand.

And that was it; Scorpius never let the memory of that day show again.

Dorian handed Draco the letter the Professor had given him. Inside the envelope was a resignation letter.

"Ministry members came to search the house," said Dorian, bringing his thoughts back to Scorpius, who was still reading the letter. "They took some of my belongings for examination. There have been attacks on Muggles. Nothing particularly surprising, but the children of Death Eaters are always the first suspects. I think it was your uncle leading the search, Potter."

Albus shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

"My uncle Ron is a suspicious man, and he has a good memory," he said apologetically. "If my father didn't keep him in check, he'd conduct raids every week on former Death Eaters' homes. I'm sorry.

"It's not your fault," said Dorian after taking a sip of coffee. "They didn't take anything of value anyway; all my things are at the Malfoys'. And Draco won't let Ministry people into his home.

"You're still living with the Malfoys?" Albus asked in surprise.

Scorpius and Dorian both looked up at Potter, surprised, and Albus continued, "I thought you went back home when the Malfoys returned. It made sense for you to go live with your father again. Stop looking at me like that! Did I say something wrong?

"No," Scorpius interjected. "You didn't say anything wrong, it's just that…"

He glanced at Dorian and looked back at Albus.

"I guess we never thought about it. Dorian is like family; I never thought he should go back to live with his father. That would explain why his letters are so bitter; maybe he wants you to go back and live with him.

"He probably thought I'd return on my own," said Dorian. "That man is full of illusions." Scorpius was about to intervene, but Dorian cut him off: "I know he's my father, but if he had really wanted to, he would have come with us when the Malfoys took me in. I know Draco offered, but he decided to stay because, despite what he says, he hates Muggles and their world, like your mother does, and he preferred to stay in his big house without his son. I'll split my time between the manor and my father's house during the holidays, but I won't go back to live with him."

" I didn't say you had to leave," replied Scorpius, putting the letter back in its envelope and setting it on the table. "But you should be more tolerant of your father. He's a fragile man."

"Weak is the word you're looking for," retorted Dorian.

He was about to continue when he spotted James Potter approaching them. Beside him was Elisa Waldon, a tall brunette with huge eyes and a voluptuous chest. She stood very straight, proud to be on the arm of the handsome Gryffindor Captain, puffing out her chest so much that her blouse threatened to burst under the pressure of her breasts.

James shook Dorian's hand and gave a slight nod to Scorpius, who ignored him.

"You know the same food is served at the Slytherin and Gryffindor tables, right?" he said to his brother, wrapping his arm around the girl's waist, who giggled with delight. "No need to invade our space, even if our table is more pleasant."

"It's pathological with you; you just can't help talking nonsense," replied Albus with such calm and indifference that Scorpius couldn't suppress a smile.

"Well, well," said James softly, his smooth lips forming a disappointed pout. "And here I was, wanting to wish you good luck for the Slytherin tryouts this afternoon. I regret worrying about you."

"You were worried about me?" Albus asked, raising his eyebrows.

"Not really," James admitted, a broad smile on his face. "I just wanted to tell you that we need to gather all the captains for a meeting tonight to schedule the training sessions. Oh, and also to let you know that I've already reserved the pitch for a practice session right after your tryouts. So if you could avoid hogging the pitch all afternoon, that would be great…"

Albus felt his nerves tighten as he tried not to show how much his brother's words irritated him.

"Though you're going to have a hard time finding a team worthy of the name among your Slytherins. I think Briani and company will be on the team again, but where do you plan on finding a good Seeker?"

Albus straightened up and leaned back against the chair, assessing his brother, and announced clearly:

"I've already got one in mind."

"Really?" James asked, intrigued, letting go of his companion's waist. "And who might that be?"

"Scorpius."

"What?" Malfoy started, finally showing interest in the conversation. He looked at Albus as if he had lost his mind. He had told him he didn't want to be on the team!

"You're going to try out for Quidditch?" Dorian exclaimed behind him.

Scorpius turned to tell him the truth, but when he saw his face, his throat tightened. His friend was proud of him.

"That's great!" Dorian continued, grabbing his friend's arm. "You're excellent on a broom! I didn't think you'd do it; you really surprise me!

"Me too…" Scorpius conceded with a forced smile. But he quickly shot a dark look at Albus, whose mischievous and delighted smile was getting on his nerves. He was trapped. He looked up at the eldest Potter and realized that he was staring at him.

"How interesting…" said James, his eyes gleaming with an expression Scorpius had learned to hate. "Well, good luck this afternoon, Malfoy."

He turned to his brother. "You too, Al."

He left the Great Hall, Elisa on his heels, evidently forgotten in the Gryffindor Captain's mind.

"Your brother has his good sides, Potter, but he has no respect for women," said Dorian, adding three more sugars to his coffee, which already had two.

"He has no respect for anyone," Albus added indifferently.
"He never sleeps with the same girl twice."

Albus, who had just lifted his cup to his lips, choked on his hot chocolate.

"That's something I'd rather not have known!

"Then you'd better tell him to be more discreet," insisted Dorian, who was thoroughly enjoying the blush rising on young Potter's cheeks. "Though it's the girls who make the noise, not him."

"Okay, that's enough," said Albus, standing up.

"Where are you going?" Scorpius asked, watching the boy awkwardly leave the bench.

"I'm going to throw up and then go to class," he declared, grabbing his bag.

Scorpius quickly got up as well, casting a glance at Dorian that clearly said, "Not cool!" before following Albus down the central aisle.

Dorian, proud of himself and smiling, spread butter on another slice of bread.

End of Chapter 10