Babygirl (SEQUEL to Fuckboy - Draco Malfoy)

18. fatal flaw.

"We understand," Draco's mother said.

He looked up from his dinner plate, outraged. Did he misread her Howler? Had he misread the tone of the past two days? Did she take him for a goddamn fool?

"Understand?" he asked in barely contained fury. "Understand what?"

They were sitting at Christmas Eve dinner, two days into the holiday. They usually invited all sorts of guests to the holiday festivities but this year, they sat at the black marble table as a solemn trio. Since Draco had been home, his father had barely said a word and his mother had talked far too much. It was funny, since she told him not to mention a word of his 'excursion' during the holidays. She seemed to have changed stances on what they should and should not talk about at the dinner table.

She kept coming up into Draco's bedroom, as he had locked himself up there for two days straight. She kept trying to sit him down and talk about Evangeline away from his father's watchful eyes. Every time, Draco dismissed her. He didn't want to talk about it with her. It was a pointless battle. It would be a useless conversation. But now, his mother changed patterns, bringing up the topic in the middle of their dinner.

"We understand," his mother said in her usual posh tone, throwing a heated glance at his father. Lucius Malfoy was currently staring down at his plate, fuming. "That all of this. . . does not mean anything."

"Oh?" Draco asked with a laugh. "You've got it all worked out, have you mother? I'm so glad for you."

"We know that—"

"Narcissa, have you forgotten what I told you?" his father barked.

"We know that your time with the Mudblood—"

"Don't use that fucking word," Draco hissed at her. His father met his eyes for the first time in two days.

"Why, you dare—!"

"Your time with that girl was only driven by—"

Draco stood up from his seat, stopping them completely in their attempts to purge.

He got as far as the staircase before his parents reached him. They were a hurried, bumbling display of fools, interrupting each other over and over as they attempted to fulfill each of their own vendettas.

"You may not return to this house if—!"

"You do not truly appreciate the gravity of—!"

"Narcissa would you please—!"

"I am only trying to—!"

"Do not act as if this can solved by—!"

"Draco, if you are to recover from this shame, we must—!"

"Shame?!" Draco yelled, whirling around and interrupting them both. "What shame?!"

Something was different this time. She was not going to let Draco dismiss her, he could see it in her eyes. His mother was going to force his hand.

"Have we not raised you in proper beliefs? Have we not told you, all your life, of the dangers of mixing blood?!" his mother exploded, gripping onto the staircase railing. "Our kind would not survive, we would be thrown into poverty, only weakened witches and wizards would remain!"

"You will be no son of mine," his father then said, slowly and with care. Draco looked between them, back and forth to each of their eyes in turn.

"Excellent," he retorted, looking his father dead in the eyes and smiling sadistically at him. "About damn time you made it official—I've been waiting long enough."