Hidden Feelings - A Draco Malfoy Love Story

Chapter Twelve

"Elizabeth?"

"Yes?" I look up from the book I'm reading, turning around in my desk chair to look at Mother. She has a troubled expression on her face, her eyebrows furrowed with her head tilted slightly to the right.

"I was meaning to ask you what your father's letter said," she says, her voice tight, as if she knows that he was talking badly about her.

"Oh. He just said how he missed me and wishes he could be here," I respond carefully, and even though I'm leaving a lot out, I'm sure it will still make her upset. "And he wished me a happy holiday."

"Where is it?" she asks.

I swallow the sudden lump that has formed in my throat, looking down a little. "It's-it's in my desk drawer."

I wait for her to ask to read it, but she slowly nods.

"Okay. Come out in maybe half an hour for lunch," she tells me. When she leaves, I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding, turning back to my book.

••••••••••

The days seem to pass slowly. Christmas comes, and I find myself alone in the house when Mother has to leave because of an emergency at the Ministry. She gives me a wrapped package and a kiss on my forehead before rushing out. I sleep in a while longer, since she had to wake me up, and open my eyes once again to the sound of pecking on my window.

I quickly shoot out of bed, a real smile on my face as I see Harry's owl sitting on my windowsill, holding multiple packages tied together. I rush to the window and open it, letting Hedwig inside. Ignoring the chilly air, I carefully take the packages from her, setting them on my bed before gently stroking the back of her head.

"I wish I had some treats for you," I mumble, but I've never had an owl, so I didn't need to have treats with me. "Thank you. Can you wait for me to send a letter back?"

She makes a small noise of agreement and settles in on the windowsill.

I have a gift from Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Neville. I had given each of them a gift before I left, and thankfully I didn't get anything from anyone who I didn't get something for (does that make sense?). That would make me feel terrible. I open Hermione's first, finding a beautiful leather notebook that she explains to be charmed in a note. The words can only be read by the notebook's owner, which is determined by whoever's name is written in the front cover. Ron gets me a small arrangement of chocolate (mainly consisting of chocolate frogs, which have been my favorite ever since I tried them). Harry's is an empty photo album, and I smile when I remember telling him that I loved taking pictures. I need to bring my camera when I go back. Finally, Neville's is a Gryffindor scarf. I know that I'll be abandoning my plain black one for this when I come back.

I quickly write a thank you note to each of them, tying the envelopes together and handing them to Hegwig. I pet her one more time before she flies off, and I close the window, sitting back on my bed to open Mother's.

Mother's gift is a book, like usual; and although I have been slightly upset about her lately with everything going on, I can't help but grin excitedly as I read the summary. She always gets me muggle books on special occasions, because she knows I love the different stories that they come up with, specifically the fantasy ones. They do have great imaginations, and some books come very close to the truth about witches and wizards sometimes. However, many times, their portrayals of magic beings are far from accurate; not that they will ever know that.

I clean up the wrapping, setting all my new items on my desk. I'm about to leave the room to throw out the ripped paper when I hear another peck on my window.

I turn around, confused, walking back over to my bed to set the wrapping paper down. I see a new owl, large and jet black, staring at me with a small package next to it.

I open the window once again, carefully picking up the box. The owl's dark eyes stare at me intimidatingly for a moment before it jerks back, flying away. I frown, closing the window while examining the gift in my hand. There isn't a name on it.

I rip the paper, finding myself holding a small brown box. I lift the lid off, my breath catching in my throat.

A ring stares up at me.

It's simple yet gorgeous, the silver engraved in a beautiful design, flowing along the thin side. When I look closely, some sort of stone is paired with the silver, a deep green color that reflects the sunlight from my window. My eyes wide, I slip the ring onto my pointer finger. It fits well enough, maybe slightly loose, but it won't fall off. I sit down on my bed, staring at the piece of jewelry.

I can only think one thing: Who would do this?

••••••••••

When my mother comes home, it's almost nine at night. She looks so exhausted that I feel slightly bad for how I've been pushing her away. Divorce has to be hard; it's impossible to have no conflict. Maybe I shouldn't be so upset.

"Hi, Mother," I say, opening my arms. "I loved your gift. I started rea-"

"Want to know what I love about your father?" she snaps, passing me without a glance. My smile immediately falls. I have to refrain from grimacing as she storms into the living room, dropping her bag by the couch before collapsing onto the cushions.

"What, Mother?" I ask softly as I follow her. I stand by the hallway that leads to my room, prepared to leave as quickly as I can. Her eyes meet mine in a half-hearted glare.

"How he has complete disregard for my wishes," she says. "He knows damn well that he would have done everything he could to keep me from talking to you!"

I watch her pull Father's envelope from a pocket of her bag. I bite my lip to stop myself from making an expression that would make her mad at me. She took it from my room.

"I do a nice thing for him, with one rule, and he goes off and-and thinks it's okay to not listen! Why listen to me?!" She lets out a yell of frustration, and I flinch, taking a step back into the hallway. "I'm sure you think I'm an awful person because of him. That you got stuck with the evil one."

"No, Mother," I whisper, now digging my nails into my palms to stop myself from crying.

"Then why didn't you show me this?" she asks me, holding up the letter as if I couldn't see it well enough before. "You had it buried pretty deep in that drawer."

"I'm sorry."

"You should be!" She grabs the envelope in her other hand and tears it in half. I flinch again, my nails sinking deeper into my skin. "Go to your room. I'm surprised you even came out to see me, with all the time you spend in there anyway."

I turn and run down the hall as quickly as I can, slipping into my room. Tonight, I don't care if she thinks I hate her, I'm depressed, or whatever she makes up; I close my door, letting it slam a little harder than I meant to as I lean against it, burying my face in my hands as the first tear falls.

I wipe it away and blink a few times to stop others from joining. I'm overreacting, I tell myself. She's not mad at you. She's mad at Father.

But in a way, that's just as bad. I thought that when we moved, she would be happier; if anything, all this has done is make her even sadder. I hoped that something good would come out of them separating...but this has created an endless cycle of watching my parents be hurt as they continuously pound on each other. The worst thing in the world is seeing your parents cry, and this is worse, far worse.

I want to help, but not when she takes her anger out on me.