Serpent's Veil || Draco Malfoy.

Lineage of Betrayal

🎵''Daddy Issues'' - The neighbourhood

The letter I got from them, informing me about their lovely visit, read like this:

"Emily,

Your father and I need to speak to you about an urgent matter pertaining to your future and our recent meetings with the Dark Lord. I expect you to wait for us at the manor as soon as you receive this message. Do not keep us waiting.

-Mother"

How modest of her to refer to our house as "the manor," huh?

I was really nervous after reading it. 

She said we needed to discuss my future. 

Are they going to pull me out of Hogwarts or what? I can barely keep up in class as it is; imagine if I didn't go at all.

Let's face it, school isn't made for me. 

I can't obey authority, can't sit still long enough to really absorb anything, less if it is all that nonsense in History of Magic. 

Why the hell would I like to know about some medieval assembly of European wizards? 

Those people died, like centuries ago, plus, they were so boring and stupid. 

That's probably why they wind up dead.

I spent the whole morning preparing for their visit. I know it sounds weird that they visit their own house, but they're always away on business. 

Too busy to even take care of their own daughter.

It felt strange, bustling around the house, trying to make it look presentable for people who should be more familiar with it than I am. 

I normally didn't care about how it looked. 

The house elves were always busy cleaning and making sure it was perfect, so that may be why I was so surprised at how tiring it was to check every little detail in the main rooms looking for any possible mistakes. 

They probably deserve a raise, those poor creatures.

I know I'm not supposed to, but sometimes I can't help but feel kind of guilty. 

I mean, their lives are like this because of families like mine. 

It must suck, waking up in the morning and realizing that your only worry is to make sure some arsehole's house is clean.

Now that I think about it, I haven't seen my parents since we came back from our trip. 

They will probably look and act the exact way they've looked and acted since I was little, so, there's nothing to worry about. 

Or maybe I should be worried just because of that.

My mother is a tall, imposing woman with blonde hair that always seems to fall in perfect waves. She has an icy gaze that could freeze practically everyone in their tracks. She always has a sharp retort ready, her words like knives. 

I take that from her. 

It might have something to do with how she got that job in the ministry so easily. 

She has a special way with words, and that makes her able to convince basically everyone of everything. 

Her presence is intimidating too, the kind that makes you stand up straighter and choose your words carefully. 

She's the kind of scary that's always there, lurking just beneath the surface, ready to strike at any moment.

My father, on the other hand, exudes a calm, controlled demeanour most of the time, his face a mask of stoic indifference.