Ex-Friends || A Drarry Story

Two : One

TW: MENTIONS OF PHYSICAL AND EMOTIONAL ABUSE

Dear journal,

Summer here has been boring. There's no one to talk to besides Dobby, but he isn't all too interesting. I'd much rather have Blaise to keep me company. Maybe even Pansy and Theo.

It's quiet here except for when Father shouts at me. He wasn't impressed when I showed him my good marks and Mother was disappointed to hear that I came second in my year.

On top of that, they had me wait hours at King's Cross Station for them to bring me here. Father tutted and called me incompetent because I don't know how to Apparate myself, when though it's illegal for anyone under the age of sixteen to Apparate. I read about that in one of the books in the library here.

Father didn't find it amusing when I told him that little piece of information. He hit my face once. I fell into one of the armchairs. He called me names and claimed that I had grown soft at Hogwarts.

Mother doesn't speak to me much. She just sits and sips her wine, pursing her lips at me as if she doesn't want me. I know she doesn't. Not really. She goes on and on to Father about how she wanted a daughter, even when I'm right there.

July 30th.

By the half-light of the moon, Draco sat at his desk, thankful that his parents slept on the floor above him, unable to hear his quill scratching against the pages of his journal. June fifth had been his birthday. He had received a desk set from his father and some peacock feathered quills from his mother.

From Pansy, he got a new book. Theo had gotten him Quidditch gloves, and Blaise sent him a package of Chocolate Frogs and Pepper Imps, which he kept hidden under his bed.

Draco jumped when he heard shouting from above his head, but he quickly settled when he realized it was his mother shouting at his father. With a sigh, he closed his journal and buried it in one of his drawers, climbing into his bed and lying on his side, his silver eyes watching his door.

Slowly, allowed himself to settle into his blankets and pillows, letting his eyes close and his body relax. It was exhausting, being at Malfoy Manor.

When morning came, Draco got dressed quickly, combing his hair and going down the sets of dark wooden stairs, opening the doors to the dining room. His mother was sitting at the table with her usual morning glass of red wine. "Good morning, Mother," he said, receiving no reply. He sat beside her, a house-elf setting a plate of toast, sausages, and strawberries in front of him. He mouthed Thank you to it.

Draco looked at his mother, asking, "What are your plans for today, Mother?"

She sipped her wine. "Stop that slouching."

Draco nodded and straightened his back and ate quickly, leaving the dining room, walking to the Malfoy library in search of another book. He shivered as he walked down the large, dimly lit corridor leading to it, pale faces of deceased Malfoys watching him.

Finally, he made it to the library entrance, he turned the bronze knob, the smell of books and leather strong in the air. He inhaled deeply, his entire being tingling as he wandered through the ceiling-high shelves, forefinger trailing along the many, many spines of novels.

He grabbed one and sat in an armchair by the fire, listening to it crackle as he took his shoes off, curling into the chair. Draco opened the book, allowing himself to get lost in the words, his silver eyes rapidly absorbing every little detail.

He finished the novel in just a few hours and he grabbed another two, setting them on the table beside him, immersing himself into another book, hardly caring that it was about runes. When he finally did leave the library, he wasn't surprised to find his mother shouting at his father. He was shouting right back.