Draco Malfoy, Boy Who Turned Against His Own Father

Chapter 3: Breakfast, With A Little Action On The Side

Ginny Weasley and her twin brothers, Fred and George ate their breakfast quietly while Mrs Weasley bustled around the kitchen, scrubbing the corners with such fierce determination that one would doubt if there would be even a speck of dust left. Well... or at least they pretended as if they were. Ginny was poking the strips of burnt bacon on her plate, and the twins eyed their meal with the interest of a child to an encyclopaedia. Mrs Weasley, on the other hand, was actually cleaning the kitchen, but every now and then, her eyes would dart towards the clock. She was not looking at it to see what time it was, but to see how Ron was. The clock had nine hands instead of two, each of which had the name of each Weasley family member. The hands would point towards the condition and whereabouts of the Weasleys, and Ginny knew that her mother was worried that the hand with Ron's name would point towards Mortal Peril.

'Oh, hullo, Draco,' said Mrs Weasley suddenly.

The twins looked up sharply, their eyes narrowed. Ginny stared openly at Draco, wondering to herself why she did not hear him coming into the kitchen. Draco ignored all of them and went towards the kitchen table. Pulling a chair out, he sat down and surveyed the food on the table with a look of disgust. Ginny had to force herself not to stand up and hex him. Both Fred and George were still glaring at Draco as he took a piece of buttered toast and helped himself to Mrs Weasley's homemade raspberry jam. To be truthful, Ginny was surprised that he could look so calm when the atmosphere in the air was so heavily intense.

'So, did you have a good night's sleep last night?' asked Mrs Weasley conversationally.

'The mattress was too hard, the air in the room was too cold and the blanket had a hole in it,' said Draco, while the twins' faces turn red with anger. 'Oh, and the pillows were too hard.'

Mrs Weasley flushed, and muttered an excuse before leaving the kitchen.

'Oh, and the pillows were too hard,' mocked George in a high-pitched tone. 'You're just looking for things to complain.'

Draco merely glanced at George, saying, 'I have a delicate head. I need soft pillows.'

Ginny snorted at this, and Fred rolled his eyes.

'Why don't you just go back to that manor you used to live in?' said George, clearly infuriated. 'You complain so much, you might as well go back.'

'I might, Weasley. I wouldn't want to stay in this rat hole anyway,' said Draco airily. 'At least back at the Manor, I needn't tolerate barbarians.'

'Well, at least we don't have psychos as parents,' said Fred, joining in. George laughed at this, and he grinned at his twin.

Draco stood up abruptly, pushing his chair back with a loud screech. 'Don't you dare talk about my parents!'

Ginny jumped back with fright, but Fred was enjoying himself. 'Oh yeah? Why not?'

'You know nothing about my parents! You have no right to talk about them!' Draco hissed, his cold grey eyes darkening with fury.

'Well, we know your parents are Death Eaters,' said Fred, apparently unaware of how angry Draco was.

Ginny was worried, and afraid. Even George looked a little pale. 'Fred, don't,' said George, pulling his brother away. But Fred ignored him, his voice getting louder as he continued.

'We know your father is thrown into Azkaban, and will be sentenced to a Dementor's Kiss,' said Fred, walking nearer to Draco. Ginny and George both tried to stop him, pulling the sleeves of his shirt, but he pushed them away. 'And we know your mother has been sent to St. Mungo's because she's insane. I heard that you were the one who betrayed them, because you were a coward.'

Draco was already fuming and seething with anger, but he tried to contain himself. His fists were clenched, but still he did nothing. But when Fred uttered the last sentence, Draco could not stand it anymore. Uncontrollable rage took over him, and Draco struck, punching Fred in the jaw. Fred fell onto the floor, his face an expression of surprise. He recovered quickly, jumping up, but Draco had been ready, and he punched Fred again, so that Fred hit the ground once more. Ginny screamed; George rushed towards Draco, pinning him against a wall. But rage flowed through Draco's blood, and he pushed George roughly aside. In quick strides, Draco raised his right fist, aiming at Fred, who had already gotten up from his fall. However, Fred, being a well-trained Beater, had seen Draco raising his hand. He ducked as Draco punched towards the air where his face previously was. Draco almost fell forwards as he lost his balance, and walked a few steps backwards to balance himself. Immediately, Fred saw the opportunity, and very swiftly yet heavily, sunk his fist into Draco's stomach. Draco fell backwards and groaned with pain. Fred was after all, much bigger and stronger than him. Ginny sprinted towards her brother, and grabbed him with all her might. Fred struggled, resisting the urge to throw Ginny aside in fear of hurting her, while Draco glared at him. His grey eyes were filled with boldness, as if daring Fred to hit him, as he spit blood out.

'You don't know what happened, so don't you dare think that you bloody know everything!' said Draco, wiping the blood from his mouth with the back of his left hand.

With that, he got up, shot Fred a glare that was so fierce that Ginny could not help but shuddered at, and left the kitchen. Fred slumped onto the floor the moment Ginny released her grip on him, staring at the droplets of blood that Draco had left behind on the previously spotless white floor.

'Are you okay?' asked George, looking at his twin with concern.

'No, I'm not okay! Why the hell Mum tolerates him, I don't know!' shouted Fred, as if hoping his mother would hear him. Ginny was surprised that Mrs Weasley had not heard the racket and rushed into the kitchen by then.

'Shush, Fred. Mum's already distressed as it is,' said George, pulling Fred up from the floor with the help of Ginny.

They walked slowly and carefully up the stairs, with Fred cursing all the way. George was talking to Fred about getting revenge on Draco; devising cunning plans in his head as they walked. None of them noticed that Ginny was unusually quiet. She was thinking about Draco. The way he looked before he left. For a brief moment, she had caught a look of sadness in his eyes. There was something else too: bare, exposed pain. Draco had look worn and tired, and vulnerable. She had never seen such helplessness in him before, and the fact that he had allowed his cold eyes to show such pain scared her. If he was always able to look cool and calm, and kept his emotions hidden, how much pain must he be in to allow such sorrow seep into his usual guarded eyes?

*

Ginny sat by the kitchen table, stealing glances at the clock now and then. After she and George had brought Fred up into his room and clean the cuts and bruises on his face and arms, Ginny had came downstairs to find out that the hand on the clock with Ron's name had showed that he was on the way home. No doubt either her father or Bill had found him. She glanced at the fireplace in the kitchen, thinking that Ron would appear out of the fire anytime soon. She was starting to feel impatient when there came a knock from the front door. Ginny got up and went to the door, only to open it to see a weary-looking Ron and a smiling Harry.

'Ron!' she cried out, hugging her brother. Ron did not resist, and merely smiled tiredly at her.

'Hullo, Ginny,' said Harry once Ginny released her brother and ushered them into the house.

'Oh, hullo, Harry,' said Ginny, suddenly realizing that he was standing in front of her. 'How did- why are you- I mean, where did you find Ron?'

Harry laughed. 'I saw him in Diagon Alley, hanging around the Three Broomsticks, trying to make himself drunk by drinking Butterbeer. He told me what happened.'

'Oh. Thank you for bringing him here,' said Ginny. There was a short silence between them, before she added, 'I think I'll just owl Dad and Bill to let them know Ron's home.'

When Ginny left, Harry walked towards Ron, who was lying down on the couch in the living room. Both of Ron's hands were on top of his face, covering his eyes.

'You alright, mate?' asked Harry, looking at his best friend with concern.

Instead of answering him, Ron said in a dull tone, 'She hit me. For Malfoy.'

Harry sighed. He wished he could help Ron, but there were certain matters that he did not had the right to take part in, and Ron's fight with Mrs Weasley was one of those matters. Harry sat in partial silence with Ron, his friend muttering to himself under his breath. Suddenly, he stopped. Harry looked up, and saw Mrs Weasley standing just a few feet away from them, holding her breath as she looked at her son almost pleadingly. Ron looked back at his mother, his face devoid of any emotions as his pride won the battle against his heart. Mrs Weasley let out an anguished cry, before she rushed towards her son, embracing him tightly. Ron did not react for a moment, his face frozen, and then suddenly, he too, cried. Harry knew it was a private moment for Ron and Mrs Weasley, and he quietly stood up and left the room. Walking into the kitchen, he saw Ginny standing, looking helpless by the kitchen table.

'Fred, um, he... fought with Malfoy,' said Ginny, looking as if she was slightly lost. 'Perhaps... someone should... talk to him?'

Harry wondered briefly for a second to himself why Ginny herself was not talking to Malfoy, and suddenly realized how awkward it would be for Ginny. He nodded his head, and head towards the kitchen door, where Ginny had pointed towards.

*

Draco leant against the wall outside the Burrow, breathing heavily. He felt like he was burning inside, from the harmful rays of the summer sun, or from the anger that was engulfing him, he did not know. Fred's words kept echoing back to him, hitting him with the cruel realization that Fred was right about him. He, Draco Malfoy, was a coward. He was nothing more than a shrinking, trembling, cowering coward. How could he betray his father? He had walked off with a few scars and bruises, but his father was sent to Azkaban. Like Fred said, his father was sentenced to a Dementor's Kiss, and that was even worse than being sentenced to death.

'Hullo, Malfoy. Nice to see you basking in the sun,' said a familiar voice, breaking through Draco's thoughts.

Bright green eyes greeted him as Draco turned his head to his right.

'Potter.'

'Yep, that's my last name,' said Harry cheerfully, bringing up a hand to push his messy fringe away from his eyes. Draco's eyes went wide at the sight of Harry's clean, smooth forehead.

'What the hell happened to your bloody scar?' asked Draco, his eyes searching Harry's forehead.

Harry lifted his fringe higher, giving Draco a better view. 'Stop looking for it, it's gone.'

Draco raised an eyebrow. 'It's gone? What do you mean, it's gone?'

'I mean, it's gone,' said Harry, as if it was the plainest thing in the world. Seeing the look on Draco's face, he continued, 'The thing disappeared the next day after Voldemort died. If I knew that would be the case, I would have killed the guy ages ago.'

Draco snorted, which was something he rarely does. 'Yeah, like you could just go to his house, ring the doorbell, and Avada Kedavra him when he answers.'

Harry shrugged. 'It's possible. Which makes me wonder, where does Voldemort live anyway?'

'Like I would know,' said Draco, rolling his eyes. 'Come straight to the point, would you? You didn't come here to tell me all this crap. Or perhaps, have I judged you wrong, and that you're actually a complete nutcase?'

Harry smiled at the boy he used to call his arch-nemesis. 'I brought Ron home, if you must know. He told me he had a fight with his parents.'

Draco raised an eyebrow, although he tried to act as though he was disinterested. 'Did he, uh, mention why he had a fight?'

'Oh yeah,' said Harry, grinning broadly. 'He wants you out of his house.'

Draco chuckled bitterly. 'You sure are straightforward, aren't you, Potter?' He pushed himself off the wall and began walking slowly around the backyard. 'Why did you come and talk to me, Potter? We're not friends, and you're not here to see me. Why waste your time talking to me?'

'I thought we were no longer enemies, Malfoy,' said Harry, his eyes on the boy in front of him.

Draco began walking around in small circles. 'What made you think that?'

'I dunno, Malfoy. I just assumed that enemies don't help save their enemies' lives,' said Harry, referring to the incident that happened a few months ago.

At this, Draco stopped frozen in his tracks. He recovered quickly, but not quick enough. Harry could sense the nervous feeling in Draco as he circled the backyard.

The response from Draco was, as he predicted to be, cold. 'You assumed wrong.'

'Why did you do it then?' asked Harry, finally being able to express the question he had longed to ask for a few months now. 'Why did you help us?'

'I wasn't helping you, Potter, you idiot. I was helping myself,' said Draco, his gaze wandering everywhere except on Harry.

Harry scoffed, 'Oh, really? Is that true? If it is, why won't you talk about it?'

'I have nothing to say about it. Listen, Potter, if you think I turned good, you are wrong.'

'Am I? Because no matter why you save us, no matter if you were helping us or yourself, you crossed the line from evil to good,' said Harry, hoping that Draco would reveal to him why exactly he had went against his own father.

To Harry's surprise, Draco laughed. Shaking his head, he said, 'You are so naïve, Potter. Yu think that the world consists of only good, and evil. Everything is black and white to you. There are no in-betweens, there are no greys. Let me tell you something. Your world doesn't exist. My world does.'

'And what world is it that you live in?'

'I live in a world of grey.' With that, Draco turned and left.