𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐨𝐨

chapter thirty five

Christmas Eve

He'd been out at the muggle supermarket purchasing food stock for their lonely dinner.

By the time he returned the sun was beginning to set in the west, still light outside but not strong enough to warm his fingertips, now reddened with cold.

He grasped the mildewed golden doorknob, twisting it open to reveal their little apartment, placing the two paper bags on the kitchen counter before wiping the rust of metal from his palms onto his jeans.

"Did you remember the thyme?"

He muttered a cuss beneath his breath, throwing his head back in annoyance, "Is oregano good enough?"

Narcissa nodded, emptying the bags and stowing the perishables as he sat down lazily at the island, warming his still cold fingers with his breath.

"Is your suit ironed?"

He bore his hands into his cheeks, scratching down the side of his face in agony, "I'm not going."

"Draco," she didn't turn towards him, but he was absolutely sure she had that stern, thin lipped look on her face, "I refuse to argue over this any further. Please prepare your things."

He slammed his fist against the granite countertop, "I don't want to see my piece of shit cunt of a Father-"

"Your father raised you well," she faced him and her eyes were rigid, voice quivering with anger, "It would be disrespectful of you to ignore his presence."

"His presence is in a fucking jail cell, Mother!" Draco argued, voice growing increasingly louder, his tone from his early years of school growing obvious, "He ruined our lives, ruined your marriage, and you tirelessly defend him as though he gave you anything other than money-"

"Do not speak of Lucius that way-"

"STAND UP FOR YOURSELF, MOTHER!" He stood with a scream of vigor, shaking her shoulders until she was staring at him with tears leaking from the sides of her eyes, "FUCKING FIGHT FOR YOUR INNOCENCE, NOT HIS! I AM TIRED OF YOUR GHOSTLY PRESENCE, I AM TIRED OF VIEWING YOU AS MERELY HIS HOUSEWIFE-"

"We must see him-"

"FOR THE SAKE OF YOUR PRIDE, DO NOT MAKE ME GO-"

"YOU WILL SEE HIM!"

He stilled from his place before his mother, eyes wide at her lost temper, booming voice seemingly still bouncing off of the apartment walls.

She cleared her throat and turned, returning to that placid, domestic, womanly composure as she continued on washing the dinnerware until it looked artificially perfect.

She was eternally captured in her husband's mouse trap.

He started towards the door, suddenly overtly aware of reality, entering the solidarity of the outer hallway before slamming it shut behind him.

He was still wearing his winter coat, trekking towards the exit with one untied shoe, walking angrily down the sidewalk to find the nearest bar with good liquor.

Warm breath puffed from his lips into the crisp air, snowflakes falling into his hair which was messy from the winter wind. His fingers began to numb again. He shoved them into his pockets.

The bar he entered was dim, bustling with men in suits and women in blouses and trousers, the sky darkening after a long day of work.

He stood leant against the counter, bar tender approaching him with haste after fulfilling two previous orders.