Unnatural | D.M.

Chapter Forty-Seven

Hello! Sorry for the lag but here's a new one for you(: thank you for all your patience as I try to find my way through this rough patch in my life. Your support is everything to me. Let me know what you think especially since it's all in his POV which is a first (: COMMENT

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Draco
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I placed my fork down on my now empty plate, our maid coming to remove it. I gave her a small smile as she took it and walked to the kitchen without a word. Dinner was very quiet, the only communication between my mother and I was with awkward glances. Something was wrong. It was obvious but no one moved to acknowledge it. My girlfriend was pregnant. This definitely was not a good thing for either of us, especially me. Trelawney's prophecy made sense now and it would tear us apart no doubt. There was no way it would go over well with my family especially my father. He would lose it and I couldn't ask my mother for much. She was devoted to him, even if he ruined our name in recent months. My mother cared deeply for me but I couldn't ask her to help me. My father would try to disown me, leaving me penniless or would demand that I sever all ties with Delia. Delia. I sighed, taking a sip of water from the glass in front of me. I knew I had a responsibility to her and our son or daughter but could I really live my life without my mother? Could I really not have his or her grandparents be in my it's life? My father was prideful and ignorant but I couldn't hate him even though I was repulsed by him more often than not as of late.
"Son, would you join me in the study?" My father said, pulling me out of my thoughts. I nodded, smoothing the front of my sweater as I got up to follow him. His pale blonde hair identical to mine was the only bright color in this house with dark wood, dark furniture and dark portraits hanging on the walls. Everything was dark and I never really understood why our house was like this but it was hard to stray from the dark colors that seemed to follow our family. I mean we were dressed as if we were attending a funeral every day or something. My father said black was a color of class and refinement so most of my wardrobe even now when I was allowed to choose my own clothes was just that; black. I'd worn a blue sweater once and my father wasn't pleased although my mother was the one who bought it. She'd taken me out to look for some new clothes and picked it out herself. Interestingly enough, she was insistent that I buy it and although it was nice, I was now suspicious of my mother's motives. They had gotten in a fight earlier that day. She was probably trying to get a rise out of him. I shook my head, amused by my mother's subtle acts against my father.

We turned the corner into my father's study where the Dark Lord usually interrogated people now. More often than not, screams and pleads were heard from this room and I felt uneasy just entering the room. My father gestured for me to take a seat in the black leather chair across from the one he was seated in, the desk being the only thing between us.
"Did you enjoy dinner?" I asked, picking at my nails.
"No not particularly. The lamb was much too dry for my liking." He said, his upper lip turning in disgust. Pompous arse.
"That's too bad, father. I know Faye worked hard in preparing it."
"Is that so? I couldn't tell." He smiled bitterly and I nodded, already annoyed with him.
"Well, is there something you need?"
"A father can't spend time with his son?"
"It's not like I've seen you since you have been so intent on proving yourself to the Dark Lord." I said flatly, my eyes met with his narrowed ones.
"Watch your tone, Draco."
"Sorry, father." I said, a bitter taste on my tongue for having to apologize for being truthful. He was trailing behind the Dark Lord like some lost puppy. No, that's an insult to puppies everywhere.
"Pity that Potter got away." My father said cooly and I nodded, scratching the back of my head.
"We almost had them. Everything was under control and I was going to be the one to give the boy to the Dark Lord."
"I know, father." I looked him straight in the eyes as he searched mine. I knew what he was up to and I wasn't going to let him in. He would make the decision for me.
"What is your relationship with this girl?"
"What girl?" I tried to separate myself as much as I could from this conversation, pretending I was uninterested.
"Don't mock me, son. The Edwards girl."
"I don't know what-" He shot out of his chair and slammed his fist down swiftly on the desk, making me jump.
"I know there's something going on so you'd better spit it out now, Draco!" My father's nostrils flared, his face red with anger.
"She's just a girl from school." Taking a few steps towards me around the desk with his hands behind his back, he remained quiet. I couldn't let him suspect and I would deny until the end. Maybe it was better for our baby to grow up outside of all this prejudice with her mother. With people who weren't so ignorant like Potter and Granger. The Weasley's even. It made my stomach churn and jealousy raise in my veins at the thought of my child thinking of Potter as a father figure.
"Don't think everyone went deaf when you cried out once your aunt threw the dagger, Draco." I looked away and he stood in front of me, crossing his arms.
"I hardly think it was necessary to throw it at them."
"They were escaping. Of course it was necessary. Hopefully it killed one of them." He scoffed and I clenched my teeth.
"It was totally unwarranted and besides, with the Edwards girl's condition..." I trailed off.
"It's hardly of your concern, Draco. It's not.." He narrowed his eyes at me and I looked away. My father may have figured it out. Keep calm.
"It's not yours, is it son?" My father accused, venom on his tongue.
"Of course not, I just don't relish the thought or even possibility of killing an innocent unborn child."
"Innocent? That baby is an abomination. Dirty blood runs through its veins no matter who that father is because of her. I didn't realize it was so hard for girls your age to just keep their legs shut." My ears were ringing as anger coursed through me like never before and I stood up to say something back but was interrupted by a knock at the door.
"Lucius. They're here." My mother's soft voice called from the door.
"We'll finish talking later." He walked out and moments after he'd gone, I kicked the chair as hard as I could. Sending it flying across the room, I grabbed hold of it and slammed it on the floor, two of the legs breaking off with splinters of wood. My chest heaved as a mixture of anger, frustration, and fear overtook me, my body shaking. I looked down to see blood rising on the pale skin of my left hand, wood wedged into it. I pulled it out and wrapped my hand in a handkerchief I'd had in my pocket. This wasn't looking good for any of us and what's worse is that I didn't know what to do. I couldn't do anything without losing Delia and our baby or my family. Maybe this was the world's way of getting back at me for all the wicked things I'd done in the last few years before Delia. Whatever it was, I'd have to make a choice soon before my father made it for me.