Draco Malfoy, Boy Who Turned Against His Own Father

Chapter 6: Distant Cousins and Bitter Memories

It was a lovely summer morning, the cool breeze calm and soothing. However, inside the Burrow, the house was heated and full of hot air. Despite that, no one went outside to enjoy the gentle wind. The Weasleys were doing what they do best: having a row.

'What?'

'Why didn't you tell us?'

'I can't believe it!'

'Really?'

Three very angry looking Weasley boys shot simultaneous death glares at their youngest and only sister.

'Did I say 'really'?' said Ginny, laughing nervously. 'I really wanted to say, uh... 'It's not possible!' Yeah, that's it.'

Mrs Weasley frowned at her three over-reactive sons. She should have told them the truth earlier. Or should she not tell them at all...? The latter would have guaranteed her less anger and more peace, even if only a little. But the truth had slipped out of her mouth, and it was no use crying over spilt milk, not that it really applied in the wizarding world. After all, if you have a wand, all you have to do is repair the glass or mug with a Reparo, and you can lift the milk from the floor with a Wingardium Leviosa (just be careful not to spill any milk), pour the milk back into the glass, and cleanse the milk with a Scourgify.

'How can Malfoy be our... cousin?' Ron practically spat out.

'More of a distant cousin, really,' corrected Mrs Weasley.

Ron scowled. 'That's not making it better, Mum.'

'You have to be kidding,' said Fred. 'I mean, look at him! He's... blonde!'

'Yeah, he's also a Malfoy!' added George. 'How can we be related to each other? It's just not possible.'

Mrs Weasley sighed. 'It's not that impossible, you know. All pureblood families are interrelated. Your father is Sirius's second cousin once removed, and Sirius's cousin is Narcissa Malfoy, Draco's mother.'

Ron and his twin brothers merely stared at their mother, their brains digesting the information slowly and reluctantly. Ginny was resisting the urge to roll her eyes. Only those three brothers of hers would act like the world was going to end over such news. Not that they would react any different if they knew a Quidditch match was cancelled, or if they found out that Zonko's was closed for lunch. Sure, it was a shock, to find out that they were related with the Malfoys, but it's not that devastating. So what? So what if they were related? What difference does it make? Ginny walked slowly out of the kitchen, while the boys continued arguing stubbornly with their mother. Harry was standing by the stairs, with his trunk and Hedwig's cage by his side.

'You're leaving?' Ginny asked, surprised that he was leaving so soon.

Harry smiled. 'Yeah.'

'Mum will miss fussing over you,' said Ginny with a smile.

'And I will miss her fussing,' said Harry, laughing when Ginny made a face.

They stood there, looking at each other, and there was a perfect silence in the air. They shared smiles, appreciating the comfortable silence together. Ginny felt a strong urge to hug Harry, the boy whom she used to have a crush on, and later became a brother and friend to her, but she stood rooted to the ground. She rather liked the way they were standing now, good friends saying goodbye without using words.

'Harry, are you leaving?' said Ron suddenly, breaking the silence that was so rare in the Burrow.

'Yeah,' Harry replied. 'It's been really great to be able to stay here, but I have my own home to tend to.'

'Oh.' Ron looked rather disappointed.

He and Harry were, after all, best friends. He had a feeling that they may not see each other again soon, and the fact that they were all advancing towards adulthood, Hermione, Harry, and he, in their separate ways, made Ron miss his friend suddenly and terribly.

Harry grinned. 'Don't worry, I'll visit you again real soon.'

Ron's face brightened up at this. Ginny looked at her brother, and felt a hint of jealousy at her brother's friendship with Harry. To have a best friend, and knowing that you can depend on that friend, and having to miss that friend when separated, was a feeling that Ginny had never felt before. The event that happened in her first year in Hogwarts with Tom Riddle had caused her to feel insecure and untrusting of other people, and since then Ginny had never let her guard down enough to share a meaningful friendship with anyone, a friendship as deep as Ron and Harry's.

*

Meanwhile...

'Another Firewhisky, please,' said Draco, as he swallowed the last drop of the bitter liquor.

'Sure, anything for a dishy young man like you,' said the female bartender in a high-pitched tone, fluttering her obviously false eyelashes at him.

As he waited for his drink, he fumbled around in his robes' pocket for money. Piling the gold and silver coins before him, he counted them slowly and carefully, wondering if he had enough money.

'Damn!' he cursed, when he realized that he had barely enough. He wondered briefly if the bartender would still find him 'dishy' if she knew he could not pay his bill.

'Never curse unless it is absolutely necessary, Master Malfoy.'

Surprised, Draco looked to his left. 'Professor Snape?'

The Potions master smiled slightly at his former pupil. Draco noticed that the man had seemingly aged since the last time he saw him, which was only about a month or so. There were a few strands of white hair in his usual mop of greasy black hair, and the wrinkles around his eyes had increased.

'I take it that life with the Weasleys are not well?'

'You know about me living with the Weasleys?' Draco asked, unable to hide the astonishment in his voice.

The professor smiled again, a tired smile. 'The headmaster likes to talk, as you know.' Then, when Draco kept quiet, he added, 'We were concerned.'

'We?'

'The staff at Hogwarts,' explained Snape. Then, as an afterthought, 'Well, maybe not Filch. Or Peeves, for that matter.'

'Why?' Draco stared at his former teacher. Why was anyone concerned about him? He thought that the professors at Hogwarts would detest him, hate him even, especially after what his father tried to do. Even Draco hated himself. Why would anyone be concerned?

Instead of answering his question, Snape merely sighed. 'Why? Hmm. Good question. Why do humans care about others?' He took a gulp from the glass before him. 'Sometimes, we just do. I'm not an expert on human relationships, as you know, so perhaps you shouldn't look for an answer from me. But Master Malfoy, people do care, you know... Even for you.'

The professor took one last gulp of his drink, before standing up from his seat. He dropped a few Galleons on the bar.

'That should be enough for your bill. Don't drink too much, Master Malfoy,' said Snape, patting Draco's shoulder gently before leaving the pub.

Draco stared at the Firewhisky that had arrived a few minutes ago. Suddenly, he did not feel the need to drown himself in the bitter liquor.

*

Ginny sat on the edge of her bed, her eyes frequently darting towards the clock on her bedroom wall. She started rocking her body back and forth, unconsciously biting her fingernails. It was a nervous habit of hers. For some reason, she was worried about Draco, who had left the Burrow early that morning to visit Lucius Malfoy at the dark and sinister Prison of Azkaban. Ginny could not figure out why she was feeling so anxious. It was not as if it was late at night. In fact, it was barely evening. Was she afraid of something bad happening at Azkaban? Or was she afraid that Draco would do something stupid after seeing Lucius Malfoy? Maybe, thought Ginny to herself, Maybe he's not coming back. It suddenly struck Ginny that the reason she had been feeling so worried was that she was afraid that Draco might not return to the Burrow. Hmm. If she only knew why she was worried that she would never see Draco Malfoy, a boy whom she once thought a life-long enemy, again.

*

Draco lingered in front of the Burrow, taking in a few deep breaths of the warm, humid air. For some reason, he did not feel like going into the house. Not yet. Quite abruptly, so that it even surprised himself, Draco slumped onto the ground. Maybe it was the after effects of drinking alcohol for the first time. He was not sure. He laid there on the soft, slightly ticklish grass, and stare at the sky. It was a dark ink-blue, with only a few stars in sight. Draco did not know the names of the stars, despite the years he had spent studied Astronomy, a subject he had barely passed, and even then, it was with the help of Lady Luck.

However, he remembered fondly about a time when his mother and he were close. He was about six, or seven then. His mother used to hug him in a warm, motherly embrace and they would lie together in his bed at night, gazing together at the stars through the magical ceiling that showed the beautiful night sky. She would tell him the stories about the constellations, about beautiful Princess Andromeda whose foolish mother Cassiopeia had almost caused Andromeda's death with her boasting, about the sea-monster Cetus who was slain by the hero Perseus before it was about to eat Andromeda, about the Dioscuri, the twin brothers Castor and Pollux. Her stories filled his dreams with Greek heroes and monsters. Draco remembered how much he loved Narcissa's story telling, although she would tell the same stories a few times, because she always seem to have forgotten a few details the last time she told the story, and would add in the details, describing them with such excitement in her voice that Draco could almost see what was happening in those stories.

Then, when he turned eight, everything stopped. The story telling, the loving embraces, the gentle smile, everything. His mother suddenly became as cold as his father. She no longer offered him the love he lacked from his cruel father. She still fussed over him, and complained when Lucius Malfoy was being rather too strict towards him. But all the love seemed to have disappeared. It was as if Narcissa Malfoy was just doing her obligations as a mother instead of loving her only son.

A tear rolled silently down his left cheek. Draco lifted his hand to touch his face, feeling the wetness as more tears roll down his cheeks. He closed his eyes, his mind returning to the sweet memories of his mother and him being happy together. The memories seemed to blur from the tears that were flowing from his eyes, but the feeling of happiness and bliss was vivid, and truly unforgettable.