Leave Out All The Rest

Revelations of a Cursed Witch

Leave Out All the Rest

Chapter 31: Revelations of a Cursed Witch

POV: Scorpius

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

He was sitting on an old armchair that looked like it was salvaged from the castle of some king who lived long ago. He was tucked into an old, dusty desk with papers and folders scattered left and right, some stacked dangerously high on one another. There were four dusty bottles of Firewhiskey at the far right corner of the desk, three of them empty and one of them one-third of the way done.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

Pouring himself a little of what was left of the Firewhiskey into an old glass that should've repulsed him, he shot it back into his mouth, wrinkled his nose from the burn down his throat, and then placed the glass back next to the bottles.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

Blinking away from the small collection of glass, his eyes darted around the room. There was a familiar scowl on his face as he inspected the old room that had been turned into an office by the owner. He scowled at everything with great distaste, his true pompous and refined nature coming out.

His silver eyes landed on one of the walls of the room, narrowing with hatred as his gaze stayed there.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, the words at the top of the wall read.

"Toujours pur," he hissed under his breath with so much resentment like it was the cause of all his problems. 

It was the Black family motto: Always Pure.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

He reached for the dirty glass and the only bottle with Firewhiskey left once more.

Just as he was poured, I stood angrily from the chair across from him. "I'm done here, Father. You just keep drinking, you're getting good at it." 

And out the door I went.

"Scorpius!"

The relationship between my father and I was as good as someone with my father's history could get. He was raised with practically no emotions throughout his childhood, not really taught the meaning of affection but family duty and superiority.

What I learned from his past was simple, it was everything everyone knew about Draco Malfoy. He was raised to uphold ideas that no one but a Pureblood was worth a second glance, he was to be placed on the highest pedestal and everyone else was unimportant scum. His father was a cruel man, of course, just like any old fool who followed the Dark Lord's rule in those times. His mother was just as bigoted as his father, but she never went on killing sprees.

He had a tough life growing up with all of it, I get that. He wasn't much for affection, a warm hug, or a bedtime story when I was a toddler. I was all right with that, it's not like I was expecting a bloody teddy bear and matching father/son bonding robes. He respected my choices, heard me out, never forced me to do anything that I didn't want, and we got on well.

Lately, however, all that had been going down the damn toilet as he reached more and more for old bottles of Firewhiskey and hissed under his breath about our current situation. He was becoming uneasy and uncomfortable to be around. Now he's taken it upon himself to shut me out, locking himself in that office, glaring daggers at the Black Family Tree like he could make it explode with a blink of his eye, and getting a little too tipsy and shouting at me like it was my fault.