Letters to Father
I miss you already. I don't like school very much so far. There are lots of not so nice people around, really, and they don't seem very impressed by things the way you said they would be. I tried to make friends with that Potter, the way you said I should. He didn't like me very much, I think. He's friends with some nasty Weasley, instead, a vulgar creature that made fun of my name to boot. I told him all Weasleys were redheaded and desperately poor and that stopped his blabbing, but it made Potter dislike me even more. It's only the truth, not like snickering at my name. At least Draco sounds proud, like a dragon, and not like a Weasel.
I'm sure by now you know I'm in the appropriate House. It's very lonely without you here, there's no one to keep the bed warm, and you know how cold I get. I went to see Professor Snape the way you said I should. He's very nice. He gave me a cup of chocolate and kissed me goodnight, but it was on the forehead and not the mouth as I should have liked best. He's not very pretty, is he? But his mouth was soft, and his hair smells nice, like oranges and scented smoke. I like him, even though he said I had to go to bed alone. Perhaps I can convince him later that it's better to have someone close so that he doesn't get cold.
Vincent and Gregory are in my dormitory. They're also very nervous about school and about the others, but I think that we'll manage together. They're already accustomed to taking direction from me, so it shan't be difficult. If they didn't snore and kick so, I would want to sleep with one of them. I don't like sleeping alone. I still don't understand why you made me leave dolly. I love dolly, Daddy, and Vincent and Gregory wouldn't dare laugh. Can't you send my dolly to me? I promise I won't show it to anyone.
Tell Märe thank you for the present she sent, and that I'm very sorry she didn't make it home from visiting Grandmäre in time to see me off, even though you and I know that she never intended to come. That's all right. I'd rather have chocolate frogs and ice cream than be subjected to all of that perfume. It makes me nauseous, and at least this I can enjoy.
I love you, Daddy. I can't wait to come home.
Back at school again. I hate it here. I wish you had told Märe that I was going to Durmstrang whether she liked it or not. I wish you had bought me that Hand of Glory. I know you were offended by it, but it would have been so nice to wander the castle at night and not get caught, no matter what. I'm sure that Potter does it, and gets away with it, just the way he gets away with absolutely everything... even crashing a flying car into the Whomping Willow. Professor Snape was most offended, and will likely take points off for months in retribution.
I suppose that's one reason to be glad to be back: the Professor. I'm most fond of him, Daddy. He's wonderful. It would be so much better here if he was the Headmaster, because he's so smart and so magnificent and he doesn't favor the Gryffindors like all of the other Professors do. He always has a cup of chocolate and a goodnight kiss, too. I understand now why I shouldn't want to sleep with anyone but you, but I don't think the Professor would do those things that you told me about. Yuck.
I know you're probably angry that I snuck dolly out with me, but I *am* lonely, and dolly makes for good conversation. Plus, dolly doesn't mind when I'm upset about things, and so it's not so bad once the curtains on my bed are closed. I've charmed her to look like a pillow to everyone else. Don't worry, Daddy. No one will know your baby boy still sleeps with his dolly.
Märe has sent her obligatory beginning of school package. There were some interesting books to go with the chocolates she sent, books with pictures of heaving-bosomed women on the front. She said they went well with bonbons. I think she has gone mad, as I find the notion quite disgusting. Must the creatures show their bosoms so? I know we talked about this before I came back to school, but it really is sort of disgusting, Daddy. I'd rather not think about it. Should I send the books home to you? Tell me, and I shall do as you wish.
I can't wait to come home for Yule. I miss you already.
Another year of school, another year of aggravation. Also, fear, though I know you wouldn't want me to admit it to anyone else. If Sirius Black comes here looking for Potter, who knows where he might end up looking first, and I have no particular urge to die. I know you said not to fret about it, but I can't seem to help it. I was very glad to make it off of the train and into school with no incidents. I hope he finds Potter right off if he comes to get him. Then the rest of us won't have to die.
Professor Snape has been very kind to me about my worries. He also told me that I wasn't to fret about Sirius Black and that he would keep the criminal from invading Slytherin dungeons. I think he hates that man, Daddy, but I can't quite tell why. Perhaps you know? It's a very obvious dislike. The Professor wasn't fond of the Potters, was he? That might explain why he hates Sirius Black so much. It would be very odd of him, if that was so. I wonder...
I wish you would give dolly back to me. I know you say dolly is only for home, but I miss her, and I won't ever like sleeping alone. I know you just don't want anyone to make fun of me or make me unhappy, Daddy, and that you don't intend to be mean. I just want my dolly back, please?
Must I really go and stay with Märe and Grandmäre this summer? You know how I hate France, Daddy, and you know she'll want to show me off to everyone and I'll have to wear hot robes instead of the short silk ones you let me wear. I hate it. She never lets me play and I have to be still all the time and go to tea and brunches and people pinch me. Can't you tell her that I've got Goblin's Disease or something equally atrocious that she won't want to catch? It would be so much easier, really. Perhaps she'd even come home instead of staying with Grandmäre....
We're allowed to go to Hogsmeade this year. Perhaps you can come and visit me on those days so I won't be quite so lonely? I hope so.
I find it odd to call you so. I don't know why you insist. It seems silly, really, like calling Märe Mother. Sometimes, your reasoning escapes me, Father. I will, of course, do as you say, but.... it just all seems so strange. Everything seems strange since this summer and Märe actually coming home. Mother doesn't seem at all like Märe and you're so nervous. If you hadn't gotten so drunk at the Quidditch World Cup, you might not have been so very close to getting caught, though it was most kind of you to send me into the trees before you had your entertainment. Is it my fault, these things happening? Because I didn't want to go to France?
Things seem peculiar between the Professor and me. I know you will say it's only the Veela in me, the way you used to say that about Märe, stomping and cursing about, but I find him most fascinating. I sometimes think about his kindnesses to me and nearly burst with happiness. It's so odd, Father. Why won't you let Märe talk to me about this? It would make it easier, I think, and that talk you gave me the summer before last somehow seems as if it must not have covered everything.
I know you're going to be angry again when you find dolly gone, but I only didn't want you to have her. She doesn't deserve to be locked up simply because your ego couldn't stand anyone knowing that I still have her.
Professor Snape wouldn't mind that I still have dolly.
I find it most regrettable that Grandmäre is irate with you, but it's really no surprise. Mother is unhappy. I don't think she likes you, Father. Perhaps you should allow her to go home. Then, things might return to normal.
We could be happy again. We really could.
Vile Impersonation of an Actual Parent,
No. I refuse to come home ever again, neither for Yule nor Spring Solstice nor anything at all, not so long as that reptilian monster you refer to as Master is in our home. You made serving Him sound as if it had to do with pride in who we are and in our station in life! Groveling before such a disgusting piece of Mudblood filth as though he were some sort of GOD is a blasphemy upon the name Malfoy. You shame me. I'd rather live with those nasty Muggles Potter suffers through every summer.
Worse, you hurt the Professor, and I'm certain by now that you must know how I feel. I'm positive that you know I released him and helped him back to his home. Vincent and Gregory told me they had orders from their fathers to "teach me a lesson about betraying the Lord", but their fathers are obviously not aware that both are loyal to me... much more loyal than you have been, *Father*. You have always said that you loved me, and I believed you. You were my *Father*. You were my *Daddy*. And now things have changed and all you love is that monster.
You can have him, Lucius. After what you did to Märe, you deserve that sort of filth.
After much prodding from Severus (yes, Severus, don't swallow your tongue in shock), I have agreed to write you once more. I know it has been a year since last I wrote, and that... things between us have not been pleasant. I realize what that attack in February was about even if none of the others fully understood. Still, I thought I should offer you the opportunity to apologize. To be my *FATHER* again instead of whatever it is you seem to be serving that thing. You know I miss you. You know I love you. I'm sorry I can't agree with you and serve Him, but He really is disgusting, Father, and it's obvious that he's mad. How can you go along with such things? How could you have hurt Severus so badly this spring?
How could you have let Märe die that way?
I know I complained about her, and about France, but those were the words of a boy who loved his father more than anything and who didn't want to lose what little time was granted him to share with his father. It didn't mean I ever wanted Märe to die. I loved her, too, you know, and you let them kill her. Father, do you still dream of her death as I do? I can only hope she haunts you so deeply as she does me.
Please, Father. Please. Give up this madness. Return to yourself. I'm still your baby boy. I always will be, only please, Father.
Please come back to being yourself again.
With a sigh, Draco rubbed at his forehead, laid down the streamlined quill and momentarily buried his face in his hands. "Dear Daddy," he muttered under his breath. "How's Azkaban?"
A hand pressed to the back of his neck, rubbing at it momentarily, and he groaned as slim fingers worked out the knots that resided there. "You shouldn't let it worry you so. At least it isn't like it used to be," Severus told him, canting a hip against the desk as he watched the slim blond rolls his head to release some more of the tension in his neck.
"He's still going to have to spend the rest of his life there," Draco muttered, opening his eyes tiredly. It had been two years since last he'd written a letter -- since the beginning of sixth year. "Even without the Dementors, it won't be *pleasant* by a long shot."
"No," Severus agreed. "It won't be."
"They ought to have put him in St. Mungo's," the blond Slytherin sighed, looking up at him tiredly before giving him a slanting little smile. "But then I guess he wouldn't have liked that, either."
"Your father isn't mad," the Potions master told him, leaning back fully against the desk for a moment, legs crossed at the ankles. "Perhaps some of his notions are, but he was fully aware of the difference between right and wrong, as you well know. He taught you those differences, despite everything."
Despite everything. Yes. Despite lessons in the Dark Arts during the summer, despite the fact that it had taken Draco so long to fully understand the difference between them... yes. "I miss him."
"Then go see him."
"He'd eat me alive," Draco denied wryly.
"And didn't you think I'd do the same, seven years ago this fall?" Severus asked, brows raised. "And you see how well that worked out."
"You never killed my mother."
"True, but I've likely killed the mothers of others." The vague rhyme made Severus sneer at himself.
"...will you go with me?" Draco asked him, looking up at Severus most seriously.
"All right, then," Draco agreed, and he folded his parchment, and put his quill away at last.
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