The Silver Envelope

An Unexpected Family Reuinion

Draco sat in the too-bright waiting room, tapping his wand impatiently while he waited for his mother to come back from the powder room. When an irritated spark shot from the end of it
accidentally. ne put it away
They hadn't been allowed to see his father yet. His uncle had already gone home, asking for an owl when Lucius woke. Draco was losing hope that he would get to go home before morning. When he'd arrived, a healer had told him that his father had been tortured they didn't know how long-and his memory had been wiped. Whoever had Obliviated him had botched the job, likely causing permanent damage to his father's brain. They only knew this from diagnostics. Apparently, his father had not woken yet, and was still in critical condition.
The damage that had been done to his father was unseemly, but Draco's worry was entirely focused on his mother. Her eyes had been glassy when he'd arrived. He recognized the look from
when his father had first gone to Azkaban. For a while, she had lost herself in griet
Draco wasn't certain how he felt. Numb, perhaps, and guilty that he wasn't more worried about his father.
Healer Connelly was brilliant, but she didn't need to be a genius to figure out that Draco blamed his father for what had happened to his family, and what had become of his childhood, early on in
their sessions. It was written on Draco's face every time his father was mentioned. That bitterness had followed him ever since the Dark Lord had commandeered their home as his headquarters.
Draco's father had gladly, subserviently invited him into their home without a thought for the consequences. Even when the Dark Lord had taken his father's wand on a mission to kill Potter. then carelessly destroyed it, his father had done nothing but simper and apologize for his wand not being strong enough.
There had been countless moments like that, when he'd looked to his father, who had always stood tall and proud, only to find him pathetically cowering on the floor, lips cracked and eyes bloodshot, silently begging his son to follow suit. The Dark Lord was supposed to be their reckoning, their ascension to true power, but Draco had only ever felt powerless around him. His faith in their cause
had not been citticult to lose.
Still, Draco would have died before he allowed the Dark Lord to lay a hand on his mother. The day he realized his father was too spineless to do the same was the day Draco had disowned him
forever.
However, his mother would never give up on her husband. Draco had a sort of begrudging respect for that. As much as his father did not deserve her devotion, it was hers to give.
"They're going to let us see him in a moment," his mother said as she returned to her seat in the
waitille died.
"He's stable then?" Draco asked.
"From what I gather," she said. She ran a hand over her forehead, smoothing out the worried wrinkles before rubbing her tired eyes. "They're still figuring out exactly how much damage was
done "
Her voice sounded hollow. As little as Draco cared for his father these days, he would never have wished this for his mother. If his father's mind had been addled, there was a chance he wouldn't even remember her. It would kill her, that. Draco hoped for that reason alone that his father would be alright.
A young woman dressed in healer's robes approached. She wore a soft expression of hope.
"You can see him now, Mrs. Malfoy," she said to his mother.
They both stood and followed her to a private hospital room. In a small bed and swathed in white sheets lay a bedraggled, small man Draco barely recognized. His long pale hair looked frizzy and tangled on the pillow around him, and his face was sallow and troubled. His bluish eyelids were closed in sleep
"We expect he'll wake in the next few days," said a tall healer who had just walked into the room.
"Did Healer Jordan answer all the questions you had?"
Draco's mother turned to ply the man with more questions, but Draco didn't listen. He only stood there, staring at the face of the man he'd once wanted to be.
Growing up, he'd received countless compliments and remarks about how like his father he was.
They looked the same, spoke the same, dressed the same, commanded the same level of respect.
Draco had loved the idea that he was destined to one day become lord of the Maltoy estate. and step into his father's shoes. But over the last few years, Draco had begun to dread that prospect.
Growing up to take after his father now sounded like a cruel punishment.
No matter what happened to his father, with Hermione, or regarding Ignoma-Draco knew then that his life would never look like Lucius Malfoy's. The thought was comforting.