A Short Story : A Story?

“Uh, yeah! Sure!” When I knew I was l alone I ran all over town looking for the source of the snow. I finally found it at an abandoned warehouse just outside of town. I waited a couple of seconds before saying something but before I could, someone spoke.

As he glanced around the foyer of Clair Hall, he let out a long sigh that was meant to sound impatient but came out more nervous than anything else. What on earth could the baron—as he had taken to calling his father—want with him? His father had long since announced that he had washed his hands of his younger son and that he was only paying for his education because it was expected of him.

Looking to the seat opposite me, my eyes laid upon the broad shoulders and heaved chest of my father, casually drinking from his steaming mug.

“Are you threatening me?” He simply chuckled. Time to play your final card, Percy. I gulp; I never wanted to play the daddy card but “For some reason, I don’t really feel like dad’d be very happy about that. In fact, I think there are several things that might just...slip...that I don’t think he’d like at all.” I glanced pointedly Dionysus,who was turning the same colour as those grapes he loved so much, then to the cup in his hands.

“My mother worked very hard. She was ready to do any job even though she is sick. Father tried to cheat mother and collected money from her. Then I will argue for mother. Then I will say to father please do not touch my mother. Mother doesn’t know to react to anything”.

“Nope.” Draco takes one last sip of his tea, grimacing at its cool temperature. Setting his cup aside, he peers into the small cage in front of him. Then he takes the non-writing end of his quill and pokes it inside. A fierce chittering resounds through the office. “Testy little bugger, isn’t he?”

Sitting at the dinner table, I shoved a bite of steak in my mouth. Forks and knives scraped at the table, breaking the silence in the air. I grabbed the cold cup that held my drink and glared at my dad. Sitting there, all quietly, as if he had done nothing wrong. He had gone from being the man who would race down stairs when dinner was ready so he could spend time with his family, to the man who was cooped up in his office.

“Draco?” Nico asked, causing all the wizards to scream again. As in Draco Malfoy son of Hades?!?

“You’ve got shit timing, you know that?” Blaise folds a twenty dollar bill over the string at the dancer’s hip and lightly smacks her backside, dismissing her. Draco raises an eyebrow and cocks his head towards the large sign posted on the wall. “Come off it, Malfoy. I barely touched her. Besides”– the man shifts his eyes to the bar where that same redhead coyly waves his direction –“Candace doesn’t mind.”

“Ronald Weasley, don’t make me wish I hadn’t phoned you first about this.” Aurora spat into the phone, placing her hand on her hip impatiently. “Are you going to let me finish or not?” She took his following silence as a yes, and continued without letting him respond to the question. “I decided that since the box was almost empty I would just eat the rest of it, but as I poured the very last of it into my bowl, a slip of folded parchment fell out with it.” She paused to gather her courage to ask him a certain question. “Ron, has anyone heard from Draco Malfoy recently? You know...after his mum died?”

(f/n) would perpetually come back to find her mother already inebriated, although tonight was unusual in the fact that not only was her mom sober she was beyond furious. "Where is it?" Her mother seethed with rage boiling in her eyes.

“Potter, you really are the Saviour!” Draco squealed. He stood up and brushed the imaginary dust off his clothes. After helping Potter up, he selected a couple books on Uranus and set off to start his essay.

That was more than he needed to say, Draco realized. They were Slytherins, and emotional vulnerability was simply not what they did. However, the unexpected gratitude and honesty meant the world to Draco, who had felt alone for so long. He started to reach out to pat Theo on the shoulder. Instead, he gave him a friendly poke in the ribs with his elbow. "Stop being a damn Hufflepuff, Theo. We're fine," he said.

I drew upon the counter mask exercises we had developed in rehearsals. Changing everything that made Draco who he was. His ever-present sneer faded into a frown and a wail.

Starring down toward the cracked wooden table, Ellen starts to cry. Knowing deep down that everything that has occurred is her fault. It's too late at this point, it's too far gone. As each tear tumbles down her powdered, rosy, cheeks she hugs herself tighter and tighter. This provides her with some sort of comfort, the kind of comfort she deprived her daughter of.