The Ice Bowl | dramione

Turned Away

That afternoon, Draco was called to the living room. Did his parents somehow figure out about his reading of Muggle texts, or was this something completely unrelated?

Draco's mother sighed. "Unfortunately..." she began. Draco braced himself. "We must accompany that Xenophilius Lovegood to the Quidditch World Cup."

Draco stared. "Who?"

"Right. Of course you don't know. Um, well, he's an eccentric friend of your father's." She paused before saying 'eccentric.' Draco wondered what she really wanted to say.

"Why are we obliged to do so, Mother?"

"You know how your father gets. There's no convincing him otherwise."

Aunt Bellatrix strode into their conversation from across the room. "What she's trying to say is, he's an insane weirdo and the bane of her existence."

"There's no need for such language, my dear sister!"

Bellatrix replied silently with a disapproving stare. "I'm just going to ignore that monstrosity of a sentence."

Draco's mum let out an affronted gasp. "Why-"

"You find that I'm being quite rude, blah, blah, blah. You continue being an idiot and I tell your son the real reason why you hate - or in your words, utterly despise - Xeno Lovegood."

"Don't you dare-"

"You know what? Blood is thicker than water. You'll forgive me. You always do."

His mum looked defeated. "Do what you must." Her tone was only slightly angry, as though it was used to the power of her sister.

"Your father used to date him. Romantic involvement, I mean. That's the thing your mother probably taught you to say."

Draco tried to process that one string of words, shocked. Out of all the explanations he had thought possible, this was not one of them. His jaw hung half-open, in that strange grey area between speechlessness and uncontrollable talking - word vomit, if you will. Aunt Bellatrix continued talking.

"You know, now that it's all out in the open, your husband is quite an, for lack of a better word, ass. He's cheating on you."

"With who?" Realisation dawned on Narcissa's face. "Oh my goodness, with you."

Betrayal hung in the silent air.

"Should I leave?" asked Draco awkwardly, after several minutes of nobody speaking.

"No, stay here." said his mum.

"Just leave your mother and I to this." said his aunt at the same time.

"I'm just going to stand in the doorway. Compromise." Draco said. Even though all he got in response was two pairs of steel-grey eyes narrowing and staring into his soul, he still went and stood in the doorway, watching the ensuing argument.

"You stole my husband."

"Was he ever yours if he wanted me so bad?"

"You sound like one of those Christina what's-her-name songs."

Aunt Bellatrix looked offended. "That's blood-traitor pop. I would never."

The fight quickly descended into an insult of the singer.

"I mean, what even are those lyrics?"

And somehow, the two women started laughing together, pushing their hatred for one another aside for united hatred of Muggles.

What a disaster, Draco thought. He continued standing in the doorway, absorbing the hateful conversation around him, because he had nothing else to do.

As the conversation continued and became even less interesting, Draco readied himself to leave, and heard faint whispers, incantation-like, being emitted from his parents' room.

He began to walk over to the door, a blue tone on the wood it was made up of, and his hands, both of them, placed themselves impulsively on the cold doorknob, turning it with curiosity and nervousness. He opened the door just an inch, noticing an odd green light tinting the room. A thirst for knowledge overcame him and he pushed it fully open, with a sudden blindness practically lasering his eyes.

"The spell is in place, love." He heard his father's booming voice, but it was muffled.

"Are you sure no one can hear us?" said a second voice, equally muffled, and light and airy yet somehow deep.

"I'm certain. Come."

"We must discuss this upcoming Quidditch World Cup trip." said the voice, which Draco now figured was Xenophilius Lovegood. His mind spun around because what in the world was going on? Should he confront his father? He originally didn't care about his parents' bizzare affairs, and wanted to stay out of the way after he had discovered his mother having an affair with a random stranger, told his father, and somehow wound up getting scolded by both of them. But two different people this time? and three romantic interests in total, none of them knowing about each other? As his mother would say, his father was an utter disgrace.

Should he confront his father? That was his main thought to ponder as he hid outside this darkened room, hearing his father's voice riddled with something he had never heard from anyone before, let alone his father, an emotion he simply couldn't describe, full of happiness, hope, joy, and tenderness. It was so soft and kind, so peaceful and pretty, and Draco, for a brief moment, wondered if that was really his father he was hearing. His whole life, voices had been filled with neutrality, with a slight, occasional edge of aggression, maybe some contemptuous acceptance, but never beauty. He didn't know how else to describe what he was hearing, and while 'beauty' didn't seem quite right, it was all he could think of, the closest word he could fathom that could even dare to explain this absolute purity and perfection that somehow was found in his father's voice. The sheer thought of any true goodness being found in the same universe as his father was an unbelievable idea, but it was real, somehow.

And it made Draco angry beyond belief, put him in a contained state of rage, that his father clearly had some convoluted, twisted version of goodness in him, but Draco would never be good enough for his father's positive side to show for him. Instead, he would be forever shunted to the side, neglected in the favour of better people, better beings, just another star in the sky of the universe.

Who would care if he burnt out?