Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter characters….
Warning: None as of yet.
Prologue
Silver eyes glanced at the ticking clock, and the man let out a long audible sigh.
"How much longer are they going to make me wait?" he asked no one in particular while casually sweeping the pale blond strands of hair away from his eyes.
He glanced around the small office he was standing in, and his eyes instantly latched onto a shadowy figure coming towards the window. Something was flying towards him, and he let out a muttered oath as he quickly pulled out his wand. Being too impatient had allowed his guard to fall.
The man relaxed as he realised it was only an eagle owl and snatched the letter from the nervous owl. Sighing he quickly scanned the contents and once again muttered a strangled oath as he quickly disapparated.
"What happened?" he demanded as he apparated into an elaborately decorated, spacious room.
"Sir," the house elf bowed ridiculously low, to which the man merely sighed.
"Enough of that! What happened to make my mother call me?" the man asked harshly.
The house elf quickly gathered his wits. "Mistress did not say. She only told me to send the letter."
"I don't have time for this!" the man snarled and started to head towards the disapparation point.
"Draco, are you not even going to talk to me?" a soft voice said sadly from behind him.
Draco turned around, his silver eyes glinting dangerously in the light. "What do you want from me?" he asked tiredly. Seeing his mother's sad azure eyes had made all his anger fade into unbearable pain. The last time he had looked into those eyes they had been filled with tears. Draco had left the continent and did not return… They hadn't spoken for five years.
"Your father is dead," Narcissa Malfoy said quietly, her voice breaking slightly.
Draco stood there completely still as the words echoed in his brain. "How?" he finally managed to say.
"Sang Maladie," she said heavily.
Draco nodded. For some reason he felt a strange satisfaction that his father had died a painful and horrendous death. Draco didn't want to delve deeper into those feelings. He already felt sick at his secret glee.
"When?" Draco asked without looking at his mother.
"Three hours ago. You can go see him if you like," Narcissa said quietly, not realising the conflicting emotions her son was going through.
Draco barely registered her words and silently headed towards the grand master bedroom. Thoughts like scattered threads wove through his brain as he tried to gain control of the situation.
Draco dismissed the house elf with a nod and entered the dark room. The dark velvet curtains were drawn, and the air resonated death in its very silence. There in the middle of the room was the great four-poster bed where his father's body lay.
Draco's breath hitched slightly as he saw the pale and sickly looking face of Lucius Malfoy. Never had Draco seen his father so weak and powerless. Lucius was always proud, strong, and practically oozed superiority. Now he was dead, his body a corpse waiting to rot in the dirt where worms would feed on it.
Draco laughed aloud and immediately felt sick at his own thoughts. He did not want to be like this. He did not want the bitterness that had festered in his heart to control his thoughts, but he found himself unable to forgive the man before him. Even as Lucius lay there dead, the expression of pain still visible on his hollow cheeks, Draco could only laugh at the thought that he was alive, and his father was not.
"What are you thinking, Draco?" Narcissa asked sorrowfully.
Draco jumped slightly, horrified at the thought that his mother had been watching him.
"Can you still not forgive him after all these years?" she continued.
Draco looked away. "I hate him."
"Draco?" Narcissa said, shocked.
"I hate myself too. I hate that I can't even feel sad that my own father has died," Draco said bitterly.
"Draco," Narcissa said gently as she placed her hand on his arm. Draco flinched at her touch, and Narcissa sighed. "Your father…he never meant for you to be hurt," Narcissa said slowly. "He did love you. No matter what you think."
Draco continued to stare at the wall, refusing to look into those sad azure eyes. "He couldn't have cared that much."
"His methods were different, I admit. He thought by pushing you he could show how much he cared. He only wanted you to be strong."
"Strong?" Draco said harshly as he spun around to face her. "Tell me, Mother, is beating your own son making him stronger?"
"Draco," Narcissa said sternly, as if to warn him to stop.
Draco didn't listen as he walked closer, his silver eyes so much like his father's boring into her own. "How about torturing?" Draco said in a mocking manner. "At least I understood that," Draco said as he gave a harsh laugh. "He wanted to make sure I wouldn't give in under torture if I was ever caught…Some twisted way to care for your son, don't you think?"
Narcissa just stared at him, silent tears falling unchecked down her pale face.
Draco sighed and turned away. He knew he had hurt her. She loved Lucius in a way Draco could never understand. He had
loved his father at some point too…but that had all changed…
"I've got to go. I have important things to attend to," Draco said firmly as he made his way to the
door.
"You're leaving already?" Narcissa exclaimed. "Why?"
Draco sighed. "This place is full of memories…memories I would rather forget," he muttered to himself and silently left the room, purposely avoiding looking again at the wasted body of his father.
OOOOOOO
Draco apparated into his house and immediately walked towards the writing table in his room, where he sat down and pulled some parchment towards him. His brow furrowed; he began to write a short letter and quickly sealed it with his wand. He tied it to the beautiful owl by his side.
"You know where to go, Artemis," he said quickly and watched as the owl took off into the night.
Draco frowned to himself and exited the room, walking quietly down the hallway to a room on his left. He opened the door softly and entered the dark room. Allowing his eyes to adjust to the darkness, Draco made his way over towards the bed and sat down on the edge.
He could hear the gentle breathing of his four-year-old son and see the shadowy outline of his small form. Draco gently brushed the hair out of his son's eyes and sighed.
Am I doing the right thing in staying here? Draco thought to himself.
Damien shifted slightly, and Draco stood up softly. He didn't want to wake him.
"Sleep well, Damien," Draco whispered and quietly left the room.
OOOOOOOOO
Four Years Later…
"A letter, Mr. Malfoy."
Draco glanced up from his papers and took the letter from the man's hands. Frowning slightly, he broke the seal and began to read….
Dear Mr Malfoy,
We regret to inform you that Narcissa Malfoy died last night of a heart
attack. We offer our condolences and are….
Draco stopped reading, a sudden pain curling in his heart. His mother was dead, which meant he was now the heir to the Malfoy inheritance. He had no choice now but to go back to England and take over the manor. He could sell it…No, that wouldn't be right. The Manor had been apart of his family for hundreds of years.
"Are you alright, Sir?" a man asked at Draco's pale expression.
Draco nodded and stood up abruptly. "I'm going back to England. Look after things here, and make sure
everything keeps running smoothly. I don't want to find this place in a mess."
"Yes, Mr. Malfoy," the man said quickly.
Draco left the room and started walking through the hallways, frowning to himself. He was going home…back to England. It had been so long since he had been there; he didn't know what to expect. Or what people would think of him coming back with an eight-year-old son.
"I wish you were here with me, Adelle," Draco whispered to himself.
A/N: Please tell me what you think.
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