Beautiful Disaster (Draco Malfoy)

Chapter Seven

Malfoy Manor is a dark and cold place. Or maybe that’s because I don’t know where my father is, my mother was recently killed, and Lucius Malfoy just abducted me and brought me to his house where “everything will be explained.”

I couldn’t see how there could possibly be any beauty in it. This large building was where Draco grew up. Therefore, it must be disgusting.

Only it isn’t. It’s gorgeous and it feels like a dream. I remembered it from having been there once a few years back, but it seems to have an entirely new look to it. It’s darker and colder. Walking through the entrance leaves me with a chill and a sense of foreboding.

“Wait here.” Lucious instructs in an authoritative voice.

I hadn’t been paying much attention to where we were going due to my emotional and mental numbness, but now that the person leading me was walking out the door, I thought it’d be wise to take in my surroundings. Anything to distract my mind from the pain is good, in my opinion.

He brought me to their library. This is where Draco and I had our first civil one on one meeting.

I hug myself to try to drown out the cold. The fireplace is going and even though it’s barely November, the entire house feels to be freezing.

I don’t want to think. Thoughts bring pain, and pain is more than I can handle at the moment.

“Alexandra.” A strong voice seems to come out of nowhere.

I turn around to face him. “Father.”

He is looking at me as though this is a matter of business, not personal tragedy.

My father has always been emotionally distant. He was usually there for me for the big things. Getting into Slytherin house or coming out with sky high grades, for example.

My father joined forces with Voldemort when he left Hogwarts. My mother never spoke much about it. She was neutral about the whole thing. She didn’t agree with what Voldemort stood for but somehow it never got between their relationship.

I personally never understood what she saw in my father. She was warm and fun and he was distant and, frankly, cold at times. But he’s my father and as such I loved and respected him.

Today, something is different. He is strong and appears to be in good spirits.

“Tell me, how was your journey, daughter?”

Something is wrong. He seems… joyful. I can’t quite put my finger on how I know this. It’s his presence. Something about the way he is holding himself seems as if he feels victorious and powerful.

“I slept most of the way so I can’t complain. Father… is it true? About mother? What happened?”

“All in time, child. For now, I want you to go up to the room you will be staying in and wash up and get ready for dinner. The house elves have set a new gown on your bed. I expect you at six o’clock sharp. We have a special guest.”