The Fearsome Name of Riddle

Unhappy Family

The Malfoy family sat in silence. Old pictures and diaries strewn across the dining room table. A whole life packed up into boxes and forgotten. The long room felt as empty as it had been when it was full of Death Eaters, now it was just full of ghosts. Abraxas Malfoy had moved from his portrait and was standing next to his mother as they both watched over Lucius's shoulder. Roanna Malfoy was a tall, serious looking woman in her posture but a gentle face. Looking at the pictures Draco could see that Victoria had taken more after her mother than her father, especially with the same blue eyes. Long, pin straight, blonde hair and black dress, standing behind her son, Roanna barely spoke, only watching. 

"Why didn't you make a portrait for her?" Roanna had snapped at her son in a rare instance of speech as she ordered Lucius to bring the photographs closer to her so she could see her little girl. 

"She was never that morbid mother." Abraxas told her, a faint smile on his face for what felt like the first time. "I think there was a part of Victoria that thought she would never die. Or that she would be cursed to live forever." 

Draco frowned at Abraxas's comments. In every picture in front of him, he saw a young woman smiling. She was active, with friends and family, and she was successful. Quidditch trophies, a prefect badge, close family portraits. 

"Was she really that unhappy? She smiled so much." Draco asked, looking down at Victoria's young face. 

With long slender fingers, Draco lifted a faded image of Victoria up to the portrait. She was in her school uniform, standing in front of the fireplace beside him. It said; 1943 Seventh Year Victoria Malfoy, on the back. Probably taken just before she started that year. "She always looks so happy." 

"Let me tell you something about that picture boy," Abraxas sneered, beckoning Draco to follow him out to the hallway. 

Roanna frowned and stayed where she was. She looked almost guilty. 

They walked just outside the door to the dining room and Abraxas told him to move the table with a singular flower pot away from the wall. 

"There is a mark on that wall boy, do you see it?” Abraxas told him, pointing down below the frame he was standing in. “Harsh and ugly in the wood. My father made that mark not two days before that picture was taken. Life was not kind to my sister, and she was not kind to life. A cycle of anger and hatred that brought this family to its knees. Do you understand me boy?"

“Don't be cruel to him, Brax,” Roanna said softly from the dining room, still not coming to join them. 

Lucius stood behind him, tears in his eyes. It would have unnerved Draco to see him like that a few years before, but now, it felt almost expected. He was staring at the pale gouge in the dark wood and the others around it. He looked frozen. Frightened. 

"Grandfather," Draco said carefully, trying not to look up at his father. "You're not my Grandfather are you? Victoria— she was, wasn't she. So he— Voldemort— Tom Riddle—" 

"Enough." Lucius's voice was quieter than Draco had ever heard it. Shaking. "He— he was not my father." 

"That monster is dead," Abraxas said, a sad look in his eyes. “He can't punish you for speaking the truth now. Let her be remembered, for your mother's sake." 

"Why lie?” Draco asked, eyes fixed on his father as his blood ran cold in his veins.  

“I— he made me.” Lucius muttered, wiping his face frantically. “He made me forget my mother.” 

Draco didn't want to believe it. The man he recognised, who he had known as a child. Abraxas Malfoy was nothing but his Grandmother's brother. Which also meant that the loving Grandmother he had known in Tosia Malfoy also had been a protective falsehood. Because the truth was that he, Draco Malfoy, was Lord Voldemort’s Grandson.