The Ice Bowl | dramione

A Simple Void

trigger warning: implied parental neglect and spousal cheating

Spots appear everywhere. Little rips, purely nothing. They're just there. But something more sinister is behind this. A magical rift.

A man with a pale face appears out of nowhere, and a crack sounds in this secluded place of wrong.

He is bone-thin, with red slits for eyes. His nose is flat, barely visible, and he wears a long cloak.

He's also a mass murderer, but is that relevant?

He extends a hand, a wand in place, and casts darkness into the world, a darkness so poignant it turns all space into a gorgeously simple void.

Draco Malfoy woke himself up with a gasp. No one was there to ask him if he was fine.

No one cared.

Sure, they weren't in the room, but with all the magical tabs his parents kept on him, he knew they saw the terrified look on his face, the sweat running down his cheeks.

What even was that? Obviously, it was Voldemort, but it couldn't be real. Voldemort was about as close to death as you could be while still alive.

Just a nightmare. Just. A. Nightmare.

He tried to fall asleep again, but he couldn't, so he just looked out the window, as though it wasn't the dead of night.

The moon, the stars, everything was beautifully clear.

Until it wasn't.

Because as he watched, it seemed as though his vision was clouding, in an odd way. Then he realised - the tiny specks blocking his sight were eerily similar to the ones he had seen in his dream.

His premonition, he thought. That's what it was, right?

He thought he saw a porcelain-skinned figure, but decided it was just paranoia, dreams, and the light playing tricks on him.

The next morning, the last morning of peace he really had, Draco was silent throughout breakfast. He felt sick to his stomach. Trying to eat his food, he looked at Aunt Bellatrix. She looked into his eyes, and got a shocked, pleased look on her face. He shuddered. How he hated when she did that. It was unnaturally creepy.

His parents didn't notice. They continued eating their stupid fancy meals with their stupid fancy cutlery at their stupid fancy table.

"Draco, may I speak with you in private?" said his aunt, very fast.

His parents both looked around coldly, with an odd, mild interest on their faces.

"Of course," said Draco curtly, matching the formality his parents had expressed as standard etiquette for talking to family members.

Once they had walked into her room, Aunt Bellatrix faced Draco and said, "I read your mind."

"I am aware."

He saw his aunt barely restrain herself from rolling her eyes. "There's no need to be so formal. I don't think like your cowardly mother.

Draco almost gasped, then displayed a poor attempt at disguising it as a soft yawn.

"Right. I was supposed to feign a relationship 'at least showcasing grudging respect' with her when I'm in front of you, according to your parents. especially my sister. But at this point, I don't care. I just want to know, why are you anxious about the Dark Lord's return?"

"I don't know, maybe because my aunt who worships him tricked the government into imprisoning my other aunt in place of her?"

"Andromeda deserved it for polluting our bloodline. And she'll get used to it! The Dementors can get boring. She'll be glad when they're extra angry."

Draco knew there was no changing her mind. He just sighed in defeat.

"I wish you were more like your father. So respectable, and so handsome."

Draco stared.

"Right. Wasn't supposed to tell you that either. Don't say anything to your mum."

Sighing in exasperation, Draco returned to the dining table with Aunt Bellatrix. To be honest, he didn't really care if his father was cheating on his mum. She was just as horrible as he was.

Soon, he had enough of the cold silence that plagued the room, so, after politely and formally asking to be excused, he made his way to his room, picking up a book, a thick volume of A History of Magic. This one had an exclusive foreword by his father. Draco could not imagine a more ill-fitting person to write one for this. He rolled his eyes, flipped the page, and began to reread that atrocious passage he had read many times before.

A History of Magic is an important historical text, chronicling all the important things about our rich history of wizardry. This book is critically acclaimed by magical historians across the world, and for good reason. However, it is important to remember what built our world-wizards. I implore all you readers to remember your roots, and remember not to give in to what some so-called "mages" want to turn our world into. Never give in to the ideology of Mudbloods-the word "mudbloods" was inked into a block, for it had been very controversial at the first release of the edition and still was, so it had been censored, much to Draco's father's contempt. He finished reading the foreword-and live life the right, pure-blooded, magical way. It's what these famous historical figures written about would want.

Draco sighed and flipped the page. After reading for at least an hour, he closed the book and stared at the cover for a minute. It was thickly bound in deep green cloth, an intricate, flowery design on the front. He placed it back on his bookshelf, and, with great trepidation, retrieved another book, a book he wasn't supposed to have. A Muggle book.

The Secret History.

He had stolen it from Hermione Granger in an attempt to annoy her, but when he read the back, he was intrigued. He'd hidden it behind the thick magical books on his shelf, but had been too scared to read it, in case his parents realised.

He scanned the cover. It was black in colour, with the title and author's name in large white text. A strange gold object separated the two.

He turned the page and began to read.