Growing up Pureblooded

You're Going To Listen

Back at Malfoy Manor, Abraxas was pacing angrily about his drawing room, a glass of firewhisky in hand. Clytemnestra came through the fireplace. "Go away," Abraxas snapped at his sister. "You're no longer welcome here." "I was born here," Clytemnestra said coldly. "I've as much right to be here as you have." "Filthy Squib," Abraxas spat. "How dare you betray me like this? Manipulating me into accepting that half-blood into my family – it's simply vile!" "So you're going to do what you always do, are you?" his sister replied. "Drive away all the people who care about you because they don't live up to your expectations?"

"Don't," Abraxas began, but Clytemnestra cut him off. "I've seen it happen time after time," the Squib said. "Let's start with Iphigenia, the lovely wife you neglected for the sake of your political ambitions." "I adored Iphigenia," Abraxas snapped. "I know that," his sister said kindly. "And so did she. But she also knew her place in your world – to bear your offspring and preside over glittering social events – and she fulfilled that function to the very end."

Abraxas's eyes glistened. "I didn't know she was ill," he said quietly. "I should never have asked her to put together that last ball if she'd told me." "And why didn't she tell you, Abraxas Hippocrates Malfoy?" Clytemnestra demanded. "Because you'd never taken the time to listen to her before." "I don't want to hear this," her brother snapped. "Least of all from you." "Fine," she replied. "Let's talk about Regina, your beautiful daughter and favorite child, whom you drove away from the family because she refused to support Tom Riddle." "I didn't want her to leave," Abraxas protested. "She could have stayed if only she'd have done as she was told."

Clytemnestra scoffed at that. "Regina was too much your daughter ever to do such a thing. You loved her and she loved you, but she had to die alone in France because of your overblown pride." "My what?" Abraxas yelled with rage showing in his eyes. "Don't act so offended, Abraxas. The whole world knows you're a pompous ass." She paused. "Then there's Lucius." "Don't you dare to mention him! It's your fault he's dead." Abraxas seemed at this point to be grasping at straws to continue his anger.

"Is it?" Clytemnestra replied. "Was I the one who ignored him all through his childhood, who never thought he quite measured up to my expectations? Was I the one who constantly belittled and criticized him, driving him to seek vengeance in the only way he knew?" "Shut up!" Abraxas shouted, hurling his glass against the wall.

The Squib ignored him. "And then there's poor Draco." "I've been an excellent grandfather to Draco." Abraxas defended. "You have," Clytemnestra admitted. "Ever since Aries came into our lives. Before then, as I understand it, you restricted yourself to buying Draco expensive presents and patting him on the head occasionally." "Lucius didn't want me to interfere," Abraxas said weakly. "And you would have allowed Draco to grow up into a clone of his father, had Aries not entered the picture." Clytemnestra's voice grew gentler. "He brought out the very best in you, didn't he? The only son of the daughter you'd lost, an eager, delightful child, in desperate need of affection. You were a wonderful grandfather to Aries."

Abraxas said nothing. "Then there's Sirius. The son you always wished you had. I've watched you two together: he's made you so very happy, and you've been good for him too. He didn't have the best relationship with his own father." Clytemnestra said with all the gentleness of a mother comforting a child. Abraxas cracked a smile. "No one had a good relationship with Orion, not even Orion." "If you want to be angry with me, go ahead," his sister said. "I lied to you. I tricked you. But don't you dare to blame Aries and Sirius for this. Neither one of them had any real choice in the matter, and they both love you." Her expression softened. "And you love them too." "I do,: Abraxas said. He looked completely broken. "How can I ever trust them again?"

"Considering your little tirade back at Grimmauld Place, I think the question ought to be whether they will ever be able to trust you again. 'Half-blood brat', Abraxas? Your only heir's closest friend?" Her brother winced and collapsed in a chair. "Good God, Clytemnestra. What have I done?" His sister took his hand, and Abraxas did not resist. "They'll forgive you," she said. "How can you be sure?" he asked. "Because they love you," she replied simply. "They'll forgive you, just like you'll forgive them." Abraxas smiled at his sister. "Thanks, Nestra," he said. "You're not all that bad for a Squib." Clytemnestra rolled her eyes. "You're all right yourself," she replied. "For a Dark sorcerer, I mean."