The Impatient Man and His Suit

Hot Chocolate

I observed Mrs. Malfoy sitting across the room and gained a great deal of insight into what must've been a life full of warranted despair. Each line on her matured face served as a marker for all the years of concern I assumed she must have weathered. Yet her hands, still slender and smooth served as a representation of her well-maintained elitist position. Her garb, black and nothing but, showed her humility in mourning the death of her husband. Her eyes full of dim light narrowed helplessly whenever I spoke as if she were trying to focus on something she had no interest in. I wondered if the origin of her son's haughty temper spawned from her, but I saw no fire of pride nor indignant glower in her face. On the contrary, a still, sad resignation made the pupils of her eyes. Her crown of gray hair frizzed around her small ears, sticking out from under two pairs of orange, stone earrings. Still, with her hostile presence and refusal to address me directly, I was stumped as to why she wouldn't immediately chase me out of her house. This question at least was soon answered.

Draco laid his hands splayed over his knees and began, "She will stay the night and then we will leave early in the morning—"

"And then be prematurely imprisoned for breaking house arrest, Draco? You will go nowhere," interrupted his mother.

The only word I could think of to describe the current situation was awkward. I hadn't spoken for the ten minutes we'd been sitting there, and no one seemed to want to pay my existence any attention until Draco spouted his plans. But of course, the awkwardness only increased once Mrs. Malfoy at long last addressed me directly and bluntly.

"Why did you come here?"

A strange mix of humility and bravery formed my words, "I came to convince your son to defend himself."

I had prepped myself to be honest and transparent before imposing on their privacy, but right after opening my brazen mouth, I realized how impudent I must've sounded.

Mrs. Malfoy's black eyes threatened an amused sparkle before she replied, "I don't know you nor do I like you. I am not one to judge another based on their preference of dress, yet your dirty old jacket and muddy boots trekking dirt across my carpets seem to aggravate me to no end. Regardless, I'm shocked that my son's face has gained some color since you arrived," her tone morphed into a mocking one, "It seems he has suddenly forgotten his pitiful melancholy. So, Draco, this girl's word weighs more than mine?" she questioned at last, turning to face her son.

There! Another perspective was lent to me. My unwelcoming hostess was gentle and perfectly feminine in her dedicated maternity; thus, I knew her battle was not to drive me out. Rather, a private conflict between her and her son was her qualm. With Draco being unable to leave the house for several months, she must've toiled to keep him comfortable and sane. The paper bags her thin, withering arms carried home contained groceries and necessities to nurse her emotionally invalid son. Her sudden argument, "...this girl's word weighs more than mine..." revealed what efforts she exhausted to dissolve her offspring's foolishness.

Draco, flustered and perhaps unsure of how to handle his discomfort in being exposed, stayed silent. His mother, satisfied with his embarrassment, continued, "As for the girl staying overnight. It's your house, do as you wish," and she left the room, her black dress wisping after her.

I expelled my dirty old jacket and muddy boots to a far-off corner in my assigned guest room and hunkered down in the window seat. Watching stratus clouds separate to reveal the moon, I realized Spring was riding the wind. Snow several feet below gazed up at the same sky, perhaps coming to terms with the same thing. It would melt and wet the ground, helping dormant plants sprout from the earth and entice the sun to grow warmer.

Three stern knocks came from my door and shortly after, my host appeared with a tray of soup, bread, and hot chocolate. Additionally, squished in the nook of his arm was a pair of white pajamas which he eventually laid out on the bed, declaring with a hand on his neck, "They were the only ones I could find. I hope they're small enough..."