Learning to Live

Chapter 1: Papa Meets Mama

I am hated. I am feared. I am seen as death itself. I am one of the wretched, the evil, the condemned. The good people dare not look me in the eye and they turn their families away with suspicious scowls. Knowing the truth that is burned into my skin, I am scorned. It doesn’t matter that it was not the life I chose or that I fought for the light in the end. It doesn’t matter that I am doing my best to makeup for the wrongs I was a part of back then. All anyone sees is what I was forced to become before I was old enough to know any different. All they see is a deatheater.

Holding my head high, I ignore it all as I walk down the street in Diagon Alley. A Malfoy never breaks, never bows, never panders to the whims of the public. It is one of the only useful things that my father taught me. The rest is the drivel spouted out by a madman that had consumed who my father once had been, poisoning his soul.

Two weeks ago, what was left of my father was released from his torturous life. He passed away quietly in his sleep in a private cell in Azkaban a full month before he was scheduled to receive the Dementor’s Kiss. At the visitation, it was the first time I had seen such a peaceful expression on my father’s face and I couldn’t even cry at his passing. I could only smile in relief that his pain was gone and he could now be in the arms of my mother who died at the end of the war. No one had attended the visitation with me nor the small, private funeral afterwards where he was interred in the family plot. I was alone as I said goodbye, leaning again the large stone marker that now had the names of both my parents etched into it. I was alone.

The dismal thoughts are dispelled by a silver bell over the ornate door that chimes merrily as I enter Flourish & Blotts. The musty smell of books fills my nose and brings with it a feeling of comfort. The sounds around me slowly diminish as I step over to the tables filled with school books for Hogwart’s, separated out by year and course study. Heated, angry whispers break the sudden silence and bits of it reach my ears. “… the nerve…” “Bloody deatheater…” “… dark mark…”  I ignore it all and gather up the books from my list along with some new quills and ink.

Without a word, I walk to the register and people quickly move out of the way as if afraid of being contaminated. The stony-faced clerk grudgingly accepts my payment and I walk out of the shop. As soon as the door closes behind me, voices raise in outrage but thankfully the thick wood of the door muffles them so I can’t hear what’s being said. It’s not like I haven’t heard it all before. Every threat, every accusation, every nasty rumor (true ones and false ones) have been ingrained into my memory.

With a deep sigh, my feet trod back down the road and I pull a worn ball cap out of my back pocket to cover my distinctive hair. The anger and hate has been enough for one day. Hitching the bag of books up a little higher in my arms, I turn a corner and feel something soft collide with my legs. The small hooded figure sniffles and hides behind my legs as two boys come running up snickering. The hood falls back to reveal long waves of wild blonde hair and a pair of big crystal blue eyes filled with tears. The little girl clutches at the fabric of my jeans as she looks back at the bigger boys in fear.

“And what is going on here?” Keeping my voice calm, I pet the top of her head to comfort her as I stare down at the boys who have skidded to a stop in front of me.

“Nothing,” one of them replies, refusing to look up at me. He runs a nervous hand through his short brown locks and scuffs the toe of his shoe on the ground.

“Are you sure it’s nothing because it doesn’t look like it was nothing?” Raising an eyebrow, I look over at his friend who takes a step back. He tries to hide his pudgy frame behind his leaner friend.

“We was just playing with her.” The first boy glares up at me in defiance.

“Just playing?” Kneeling down, I set my bag on the ground and tug the girl to stand beside me. My hand ruffles her hair again a smile twitches at my lips. She really is an adorable little creature. “Is that true, love?”