Inferno | Draco Malfoy

098 | Trouble in Paradise

Another day.

Another meaningless day.

Another meaningless day in late December.

It has been a week, or more precisely, six days, eight hours and forty-one minutes since my arrival at Malfoy Manor, and I have not yet once received any form of communication from my parents. 

There are several possible explanations for this lack of contact. First of all, the Dark Lord was the one who orchestrated the delivery of that stupid letter, so, perhaps he received a response without informing me. Secondly, the letter may still be in the process of being sorted, as personal correspondence always undergoes rigorous security measures in my family. Thirdly, it is also possible that my parents are simply unable to send a response at this time because they are in danger or some other unpredictable event.

Regardless of the reason, the silence from my parents, and brother, is unsettling. The thought that they might not be safe at this moment is starting to greatly torment me. After all, if the Dark Lord has successfully managed to capture me, leaving me with no available options other than to choose between here and Azkaban, then the potential harm he could have inflicted on my family could be far worse.

Nonetheless, I feel isolated in this hostile environment, even though I know that my parents care about me as, 'family above all else', and I trust that they would never simply forsake me, even in my current circumstance, I do not blame them.

I can only hope that my parents are well, safe and in good health and that they will find a way to reach out to me soon, for I find myself becoming increasingly desperate for any word from home as these endless, interminable, days pass by. The uncertainty of their silence weighs heavily on my mind, and it is imperative for me to know that my parents are safe, especially since they, including Camden, did not even send me a Christmas greeting.

Oh, and I do not even want to talk about the miserable Christmas Day here, it is not worth mentioning when the entire day was overlooked.

But, of course, I cannot dedicate all my attention to my family when I must prioritise myself first. For now, my main focus is on surviving each day in this hell of a manor, while at the same time, meticulously hatching escape plans, with the goal of slipping away undetected.

However, all my plans have flaws, and some even rely on sheer dumb luck. It is all absurd; none of my plans can guarantee my escape when the Dark Lord has eyes everywhere.

That is why I must bide my time, uncover this hidden secret even if my parents wish to conceal it from me, and wait for the perfect opportunity to make my next risky move. I know I need to be patient and cunning if I am to outsmart the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters, and I know I will have to keep my eyes and ears open, as there are not many souls I can trust in Malfoy Manor.

I am instantly jolted out of my reverie by a faint knock on the bedroom door, which causes me to instinctively reach for my wand that lies beside me; it is a habit that has become second nature ever since Bellatrix Lestrange had surprised me in the middle of the night with a few jinxes, that were not meant to harm me, but merely to welcome me.

With a weary yawn escaping my lips, I hoist myself up from the cosy bed and sit upright, feeling the dread in my bones. As I rub my eyes, I notice the soft, natural morning light seeping through the curtains, that serves as a reminder of my clear existence in this unforgiving and cruel world. I shift my gaze towards the door that begins to slowly creak open, signalling the beginning of yet another monotonous day filled with the same activities since it is growing exceptionally boring to be confined to one place, even if it is in a manor as grand as this.

"Good morning, Your Ladyship." Mippy greets me with a bow upon entering the room while carrying a bundle of white fabric, which is likely to be my clothes for the day, and she sets it down in the far corner of the bed. "Mippy believes that breakfast is currently being served, Your Ladyship." She informs softly, her voice matching the quietness of her footsteps as she stands on a stool to fasten the green curtains to their designated bedposts.