D.M. Hate.

Ch.4

I was sitting in the astronomy tower late that night, after sketching in my book for some time. I got bored of that so I decided to fold cranes and any other animal I could think of. Whales were my favorite and I remember the pattern I used to do when mom and I hung them in my room, almost like Bells' poster on her ceiling. I was exhausted from the hike up from the bathroom... and the events taken place in the bathroom.{°=^}
I felt nauseous at ache in my chest, that hallow pit in the center of my heart.
I miss my family. I miss their dancing and laughing. The feet of my life, tapping the ground beneath my own. Their laughs echo through every room, every memory of mine, through the cracks in my soul and the lights beaming through each window.
I cannot decide whether these memories make me happy or devastated. Their smiles are the warm glowing crescents in my damp life. They were, I cannot forget. I look down at my sketches and see their faces, the expressions that were so unique to their character.
It brings me back to the time when I could soak up their joy like I sponge in sugar water. When all I had to do in my life was watch them smile. When there was no distance between our souls, only bodies separated us. When the only despair I held was watching the ladybug leave my hand for another perch. When happiness came to me like the warmth of the sun in every day. The warmth so humid and comforting, holding me tightly in an open embrace.
I remember when I could see them every day, every morning, and every night. When their troubles were mine, their joys an addition to my pride. But when death is the strain in all life, there is no holding back what is coming. Their deaths created the drift that spread them off, and with them it took a part of James and I. They were taken away from me, and they couldn't leave without something of ours to remember by.
My eyes had been dry since I left the bathroom, but these sobs were never ending in the inner parts of me, shaking my core but never coming out.
Footsteps became louder, coming closer up the stairs. I didn't attempt to hide because there was no use.
Malfoy. But he was alone this time.
"Oh, you again," he says smirking.
"Hello," I look up from my position sitting cross legged on the floor.
"Drawing more swans?" He angles his head to get a better view, "or... people?"
I stiffen, "go away, Malfoy."
He cocks his head, lowering himself to the ground to sit, "why? Is this about earlier? I didn't know it was a crime to do research."
"Stop it, Malfoy." I refuse to look at his eyes.
Suddenly I feel a hand grabbing my own.
"Whats happened with your hand? Did you— or someone?" The change in his tone surprises me, but he drops my hand almost immediately when I look at him.
"It's nothing." I state plainly.
"Well, don't go and let it happen again." He doesn't have the tease in his voice, but it is stern.
"Don't tell me what I should do."
"Or what?" His voice makes a shiver trail my spine. His eyes were piercing into mine and there was another moment where I could see the hollowness in his eyes and the dark circles beneath them.
My eyebrows drew together, despite this utter disgust in him,  "Are you alright?"
It was sudden but I felt as though I couldn't keep the question inside me any longer.
Malfoy almost imperceptibly moved back an inch or so, "what do you mean?" He sounds offended.
I hadn't planned on explaining why I was concerned for him, "I just have noticed recently that you've looked— I don't know— tired? I want to know if something is going on with you."
He scoffs, "and why the hell would I tell you anything about it?"
We both are on our feet now.
"Alright, I get it, don't tell me then, you don't have to be such an arse about it!"
He laughs, "I'm the arse? You are the one who's been completely ignoring me ever since that shit in the library!"
"I have not!"
His jaw clenches, "Alright, then explain to me why every time I pass you in the halls, you suddenly realize you've got to turn back around?"
I shake my head, scoffing, "What the hell do you mean? Maybe I just don't like you! Is that such a fucking shock?"
He lets out another humorless laugh, "come on, Benton—"
"Will you stop throwing that in my face?" My skin feels like its on fire, "you can say all you want about my shitty behavior or whatever the hell you want, but could you at the very fucking least just have a small morsel of kindness?"
"Or fucking what?" He sneers, "will you run to your mommy? Tell 'er I said hi when you go running and crying to her."
My breath hitches, "You— fuck you, Malfoy."

Flashback

James and I heard the phone ring from inside. We both raced to answer it, out of breath when he evidently reached it before me. I rolled my eyes. Mom and Dad had been gone on a trip the past week and left James and I with a list of chores to complete while they were gone. Every time they went on their trips, they'd put a charm around our house that blocked out magic from the inside and out, so neither James or I could do anything without muggle equipment. Dad said it was good to stay 'connected with our roots' since he'd grown up in a muggle household— I thought it was dumb.
We'd just been completing the gardening Mom asked us to do. She just purchased a bunch of tulip bulbs and had been so excited to see them bloom.
James was chuckling a little because whoever was on the phone with him kept cutting out due to the charm Mom and Dad set, and he had to keep putting the phone back down and to his ear to try and fix the issue. It must be magic folk.
While James was on the call, I decided to take the digital camera outside so I could take photos of the starting progress of each plant. I planned on making a gallery type scrapbook for mom to gift on her birthday that fall. She would have loved it, James told me so too. He thought it was silly that I wanted to plant them first thing before any of the other seeds because we'd get to them eventually, without any particular order, anyway. But I had to plant them first, it felt decent.
I had only taken a single photo and thats when James ran outside. He stopped a few feet from me then walked slowly over.
"That was the ministry— mom and dad—" then he broke down.

We learned later on that they had been a part of an order of some kind. I recalled the minister of magic sitting James and I down and telling us the small details we were allowed, giving us only the names of their killer and the order that put them in harms way. I never remembered the name, only that it was a bird. I didn't care for the details about the order, Id been so numb. Id been so furious with the man who I knew killed my beautiful mother and her kind husband. My parents.
We didn't get much information about the order because, for our entire lives, our parents had always kept their magical lives private and made a point to focus on the muggle parts of us when we were home from Hogwarts. They said we had enough magic at school, and home was for living. I never thought it was a bad idea, but now, knowing what I did, I felt this inexplicable rage toward their decision. How could they hide this from us, knowing that they had that risk of losing their lives every single day? How could they refrain from preparing us for a life without them? All these questions burned into me like a hot iron brand.
The one singular thing we knew was that Lucius Malfoy was responsible. When the ministry finally decided to put him in azkaban, it wasn't even to bring justice to my parents. They were forever the forgotten act of his that no one seemed to care for. They finally got their justice three years later but not at the price of their lives. He killed my family. He killed them and never paid for it until a 'worthy' crime was committed.
For years, James and I were forced to be in the presence of our parents' killer, and his son, daily. It felt like torture at first but at some point I came to accept the fact that Malfoy would never choose acknowledge who I was or what his father had done to my life, and after that it became a slight comfort. Somehow, knowing he was pointedly oblivious to me and the absolute torment his father caused, was reassuring. But I could not ignore that nagging feeling in my gut that begged the heavens for justice and wished for him to feel the exact kind of pain I was in. My parents died, and so should his.

End of Flashback