Drown In You

The Pressure Of Walking In Your Shoes

On June 5th, 1980, a young woman named Narcissa was lying on a bed, spent. She was sweating profusely, her breath was slowing and her whole body ached.

She had just given birth to her first son.

Her husband was holding her hand, as he had been during the whole delivery process, while her newborn was in the hands of the midwife, who was washing him.

After the baby was clean, the midwife wrapped him in blankets and gave him to his mother, who held him close to her chest, her eyes watering as she met her son for the first time.

The man beside her couldn't keep his tears from falling at the sight of this crying baby boy, happiness and excitement taking over him, realising he had just become a father.

"Hold him, Lucius." the woman said in a croaked voice. 

Lucius slowly took his son away from his mother's grasp and smiled through his tears upon carrying him in his arms. "Hello, Draco." He whispered. Rocking him slightly, Lucius managed to soothe the baby. He stopped crying, he only moved his head around slightly, fluttering his tiny eyes open and closed.

"Draco, you will do great things in your life, I know. You will conquer the world, even. "

As the years went by, little Draco got close to both of his parents, but his dad had formed a special bond with him. 

Lucius was a strict father, he was never up for jokes, or affection, but he loved his son deeply.

He would do anything for him, but only if he followed the path that was already established for him. 

Lucius was a mean and calculating figure and he often imposed his own beliefs on his son,  If Draco dissented on something his father proposed, or even had a different idea than him, that was when the two personalities wouldn't match.

Often times Draco would find himself suffering from his father's frequent outbursts, which included being hit or emotionally abused.

He feared him. Sometimes, the sound of his steps alone was enough to make him shudder.  

But Draco still loved him. He was a hero to him.

All those times they spent together, going to see Quidditch matches, roaming through Diagon Alley... Draco cherished them, they were among the only moments of utter delight between them.

As time went on, Draco learnt to listen and never go against him. 

If he kept him on his good side, if he was able to please him enough, Lucius would reward him with expensive gifts, like new brooms or antiques.

A good way to hide his insecurities was bully other people.

If he made someone feel small, he would be granted the feeling that he would always look for, he felt superior.

In Hogwarts, he was a leader, people followed him and feared him, but they also adored him. Those were all the things that he felt for his father.

In his eighth year in the magical school, he had changed his ways. The war of the year before had made him reevaluate his life and realise what was really important to him.

For example, he had found love and it was with the person that he had been hating for ages.

But, he had to admit, that he was the one to save his life, not his father, in the end.

That Easter Sunday of 1999, when Lucius descended from a chimney, Draco was at loss for words. 

His howler, it seemed, was not filled with empty threats, it was a promise.