Vexed- A Dramione Fanfic

10. Roots and branches

(A/N)

Hello!
I have started working on a few fanart pieces on Photoshop to help my skills. Silvius' diary in the previous chapter was a part of the series of photos that I have worked on so far.

Here is another picture that I created. And a part of how I imagine the Malfoy Family Tree Tapestry might look like.
For those of you on Fanfiction.net, you can find me as mirthfullymorbid and follow me or this story there.

Anyway, here is the rest of the story!

Enjoy!
Mili

P.S. Feedback on both the pictures and the story are welcome :)

Hermione could not feel how miserably helpless a man must get before he has to decide to sacrifice his own unborn child. And what must Adelia have gone through! Losing a child even before it left the womb! Hermione could only imagine the pain. She was feeling moisture starting to pool in her eyes. Hermione Granger did not cry. Not until she was extremely angry and felt like she was helpless enough to not be able to fix or harm the object of her fury. The only rare occasions she cried otherwise was when she was extremely touched by something. She had felt so much pain and empathy the last time during the Battle of Hogwarts when she had seen lifeless Lupin and Tonks lying next to each other, their hands still touching, little Teddy at home, with both his parents dead.

She sniffed back her tears as she looked outside the glass to avoid shedding any tears.

"Hermione?" Malfoy asked gently. He got up and came and sat in the seat next to hers. He put an arm around her shoulders and tried to soothe her. Even though he had his arm around her, he was trying not to touch her anywhere else. Despite the gravity of the situation, he caught a whiff of her vanilla scent and was transported back to that night. He felt perverse and tried to think of how to console her better.

Draco Malfoy had never consoled anybody in his entire life. Not even when his father was given the Dementor's kiss and his Mother had had a breakdown.

He felt uncomfortable. She could feel how, even though he was holding her, he was stiff and rigid. This time she knew it was not because he was disgusted by her blood. But because Draco had never dared to show empathy or any emotion to anyone before. Not even the Mother he deeply cared for.

The blonde Slytherin had always been told that emotions were for the weak. And he had seen a live demonstration when the Dark Lord had tortured those who showed any remorse or resistance in following his orders. Draco had to pack away his emotions. Not just on the outside, but also from within. Draco had learnt how to live like a walking and breathing corpse. And he spent many years in the same manner.

Now he was gradually starting to feel a little more human. He had started to smile when he found something funny, would openly show his resentment, and occasionally when no one was looking, he would take off his mask and let his deeds take over. He let his guilt of past deeds wash over him. He spent many sleepless nights trying to run away from it all. But sometimes, it became too consuming, too intense. And those were the nights where he felt the burden of being the Malfoy heir, of the burden to carry on the legacy of his bloodline, of trying to fight the hatred people felt for his family and of being alone, all alone in this world.

He knew how it felt to be fighting alone. And he would not wish for it to befall on his worst enemies. He had never truly detested Potter, Hermione or even the Weasleys as a child. But he had definitely been immensely envious of the trio. They had found family in each other. Even the orphan Chosen One had a family. Malfoy had no one except his Mother.