Dreams and Realities

<03> Building

Draco hated apparating. He hated the way it made him dizzy and give him a throbbing headache just because of magic. Funny how this was 'one of the most convenient spell'. Draco arrived at an unknown place. It was dark and gloomy, giving Draco a dangerous vibe. Draco took a step back at the big gate when pushed forward his father. Father just stared sternly at him before knocking... on the gate? The surrounding was silent for a few moments, as though "processing" the presence of Father. Soon enough, the gate flung open, allowing entry to Draco and his Father.

They entered the building and as soon as Draco stepped foot into it, the whole atmosphere seemed to change completely. It was colder, darker, and gave a dangerous vibe. Draco shivered at the cold wind that greeted Draco's small and thin figure. His father ignored him and continued forward. The hallway was long and had many moving portraits of people he didn't know hung up on the walls of them. They walked along a red carpet and occasionally come across a side table with either two or four drawers with a vase of flowers on it. Draco was much behind his father, dragging his own trunk that was far too heavy for him. Draco's small feet carried him, though they started feeling numb.

His father turned around a corner and Draco was alone. He panicked and quickly turned back to his trunk, pulling at it, trying triangulation his pace. Was his father abandoning him and making him navigate the unknown building by himself? Draco tugged at the trunk, tears forming in his eyes. No, Draco was a brave boy, he wouldn't cry, he can navigate by himself. He was a big boy. Yes, yes he was.

Draco huffed. Around this age, most Sacred Family's heirs would have received their own unregistered wand for practise before Hogwarts. But Draco, as once said before, hadn't shown any signs of magic, not even accidental ones. Draco was a strange child. He didn't get other people- kids and why they were so fascinated by magic, the world. It was boring. Everything was. The whole world. His life.

Yes, seven-year-old Draco found his life boring. Useless. His life never meant anything in particular. It only revolved around Severus, who could've gone by his life without Draco; his mother, who loved him so much but she could have another child, right? Draco was just someone in her life that could easily be replaced. Draco wasn't significant, he'd done nothing for her; then there's the house elves. They could find other people to work for, it wasn't that hard to forget Draco anyway.

>•𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕝𝕚𝕥𝕚𝕖𝕤•<

"Pa- Dad-?" Draco's call faltered. No. Wh- what does Draco call him. What does Draco call his father? The last time he remembered actually calling his father was... Years ago. Properly. Now, he didn't know what to call him. His father scolded him for every word he said, even just one word when he wanted to talk to him. He never once tried to call him by his role. Even when he was being hit, abused. He'd read in books, kids who call their fathers 'Papa', 'Dad', 'Daddy', but it felt too informal and that Draco would be punished for it. Then... "Father!"

For a while now, a Draco hadn't heard his father's footsteps. But, when he heard footsteps, his head jerked up. Right in front of him was his father. An unfamiliar yet comfortable warmth filled Draco's chest, red running up his neck. His father came back for him.

His father, Al though his eyes and gave was still hard, but Draco could see that it had softened a bit - not that anyone who was unfamiliar with his father could see. He rolled his eyes. He slowly ripped Draco's fingers from the trunks handle and picked up the trunk and walked away from Draco. Draco stared stunned at his father's back. His father stopped then. He turned, that same grey eyes looking into Draco's own. "Come on." It wasn't cold. It wasn't angry. It was soft. It was definitely new. That tone of his father he'd never heard before. But, it was now one Draco wants to hear. This may be the only time he hears his father being nice, but it was a nice experience.