dear_mun | AU, OC -- omfg, seriously, don't even aaaask

Good. [ proud big brother time. For some reason, it comes naturally to him, despite everything. That and fatherhood, as he recalls well from an older Scorpius merely showing up in his life, throwing something of a wrench in. ] Keep them that way. And if you need a spot of tutoring, I'm sure you can find me.

[ Binns was never even in the running for best storyteller; he's rubbish, and no one's bothered to point it out to him. Not that it'd sink in anyway. ]

Never. I can barely tell you what she looks like. [ a sniff, and a beat. ] I don't know. It just seems odd to me. A little too normal. You don't think so?

[And to think how this conversation began. Now he's fawning over her. Of course if you asked Lyra she'd attribute that to herself - who wouldn't want to love her, if given the option?]

Well that seems sad. Imagine if I'd never met Scorpius. [She giggles a bit, though, because it's still funny at times, to be an aunt to someone she's only about seven years older than. Her parents having her so late in life threw things off in more than a few ways.] I think you must be glad, then, having her around now.

I don't know, I don't think you should ask me. I've had more than a few people tell me before that what I think is normal is most assuredly not. But you're happy and so is your wife and we see you all the time at holidays and really, it seems, almost every week - Father keeps saying we should probably move out of the Manor, or you and your family should probably move back in completely, since it's only proper that Scorpius grow up under the same roof as his ancestors, with his father as man of the house. That's how it's done. But you both seem so reluctant to change anything.

But if you really want to know I don't think there's anything odd about it all. You work and you're married and you had a baby, and Mother and Father are proud of you. Isn't that the right way to do it?

[ oh, darling. You're bordering on Draco-levels of ego here. Of course, in some ways, he's almost happy to hear about that. At least she's facing a much nicer life than he did, so her ego bubble won't be popped nearly so harshly. She can just grow out of it in good time now. ]

I can't; that's a life experience I have no knowledge of. [ but he chuckles anyway, rolling his eyes. Really now. He can only speculate at how her having Scorpius around is, or how he might benefit from having Aunt Andromeda in his life. Though he's sure both these things are good. ]

Perhaps there's no reason we ought to change anything. Things work as they are, hm? Everyone's happy. I imagine any woman willing to marry me would also be willing to just let things be, as long as they worked.

[ something about him has grown a touch distant. Thoughtful, really. ] I suppose it could be. [ he just can't imagine that being his life. Which is curious. And perhaps a little self-deprecating. ]

You think so? Well, I guess you're right. It's not as if anyone has any reason to complain. [Only the portraits - but they complain about everything. And she knows Father at least finds it...hard to deal with, sometimes; how odd their life is compared perhaps to what he thinks it was 'supposed' to be. But he never says much of this to Lyra and she's too young anyway. So she never fusses about it. She does pause here for a moment, though, thoughtful.] Only I can't really picture it yet. Being married. Mother says it will make more sense to me when I'm older. When I meet someone I feel as though I can build a life together with.

[She tilts her head a little, with the curious look of the still relatively innocent. She sees that distant look of thought. That he seems further away, somehow.] What's wrong?

[ the portraits simply exist to complain; that's how old age works, Draco's convinced of it. He has yet to meet a portrait that doesn't complain about something. ]

It'll make far more sense, I'm sure.

[ he barely realises that she can tell he's holding himself differently, however small the change. But of course she would; she's his little sister (how odd), and that means she obviously pays attention in some regard.

[ Draco blinks over at her, hesitating for a moment. ] Nothing.

This is one of those thing that I have to wait on, isn't it. 'You'll understand when you're older. We'll tell you when you're older. You'll know all about it when you're older, precious, believe me.' [She makes a childish noise of disgust and wrinkles her nose, sticking her tongue out under her fangs.

It could've sounded like she was almost quoting anyone there, at first, but by the time she got to that final sentence her voice took on a husky, lilting quality that could have only meant she was imitating their father.

Without pause she shrugs, dissatisfied but unconcerned.] All right, then.

[And then she comes closer and sits down right beside where he is, leaning so close they'll brush one another, if he'll let her. Without any hesitation at all, any indication this should be strange. She kicks her feet and her legs swing.]

I don't believe you at all, just so you know. But I won't keep asking if you're not going to answer.

It is. [ his eyebrows arch at her a little at the impression; it's abundantly clear that it's meant to be their father, and he can't help but bite back a bit of a smile at it. ] You need a certain amount of life experience to understand some things. I didn't believe it either.

[ ah. She's sitting next to him.

[ Hello, tiny sister. He doesn't say a word to it, though it's a bit odd. He's all right with it, though. It just seems to emphasise the age differences between them. ]

I didn't anticipate marrying. I didn't anticipate anyone wanting me after the war. That happens when most people hate you and everything you seem to stand for. [ a word of explanation, because she doesn't expect to get one. ]

I don't like to wait. [She complains, one degree short of a whine. Not pressing it too hard because she supposes he'll say he remembers it being that way for him, too, and it won't make any difference. But it makes her feel better to get it out of her system anyway.] And I don't like being told 'no', either.

[Does anyone in their family, though? The only one who was ever able to bear it with any semblance of grace was Narcissa. And even she had her hangups.]

What do you mean you thought no one would ever want you, though. How absurd. What's not to want, or like.

[They're Malfoys - they're clever and good looking and know all the right people and have all the nicest things. Lyra literally sauntered onto the Hogwarts train and expected everyone to want to be her friend.

Just about everyone did too, though. So at least for her it worked out. Amazing what confidence and poise and a bit of innocent charm can accomplish.]

Did people ever really hate us so much? There are so many things Father and Mother and even you don't like to talk about. I always imagined they were exaggerating. Trying to get out of having to tell me. As if making it a scary story would work, somehow. I love scary stories.

It's a very good thing I'm not our parents, then, because I have no problem telling you no. [ words that, perhaps, come out a little more fond and amused than anything else. He can easily see where they might be close in the future. Perhaps because she's just like him, albeit a little more fluffy and happy about life.

[ And really, why shouldn't she be? Her life doesn't seem that bad.

[ She gets a soft, muffled snort of laughter out of him at what's not to want. Hah. ]

Yes. They did hate us. Quite a bit, and for most of my life thus far. If not all of it. [ his mouth twists a little; it's abundantly clear, from what she's telling him, that no one in the family wants to discuss the dark times. And neither does he, to be quite frank, but he supposes that he can deal with it. He'll take one for the team, in this case alone. ]

In fact, I can recall one instance quite starkly. Someone I thought was a friend - albeit I used the term rather loosely in my younger days - turned out to have hated me all along. Ever since we were small. He thought I was a complete prick; couldn't stand me in any regard. He only stuck around because his father worked with our father, and it was expected of him.

[ there's something in his tone there, like he's purposefully trying to spit the words out disdainfully to keep from choking up. It's entirely screwed up, how bothered he is over Crabbe. ]

And then mere minutes after that, he got himself killed. Nearly got me killed too.

[Lyra might enjoy a good scary story, where bad things often happen to people - but this is different. It's wretched and real and it isn't really scary at all. It's simply awful.

And if her brother is telling the truth, it happened to Draco.

The look on her face is indescribably aghast. Her lovely blue eyes have gone very wide in the neat porcelain oval of her little face. Her fangs shows once more when her mouth gapes open slightly.]

That's...terrible.

[She should have more to say in response to that, she feels. Like their father she feels she should always have something to say.

But nothing is coming.]

[ and that, precious darling, is why no one ever told you before.

[ There's something very depressing about the way she's gaping at him over the matter. Draco's expression hasn't changed at all: it remains bland and controlled, stoic nearly to the point of cracking, like he too is made of porcelain. It's not inaccurate. If he's porcelain, though, then he's been cracked and repaired too many times. It might have made him stronger in the long run; he's not entirely sure yet.

[ But he's still breathing, so that obviously says something. ]

Yes. It is.

I, never. You never told me this story before. [She catches her breath and tries to draw herself back up, to focus and calm. Her voice is dull though with the effort of trying not to sound emotional.

Draco may catch something of their mother in her, now: it was Narcissa who has tried teaching their daughter a genteel woman's self-control. How to show nothing on the outside no matter how hurt, how frightened, how devastated or angry or anything you might be feeling within.

But her words slide a bit away from her, sentences bordering on nonsense -- and in this, she is like their father. So confident constantly that when something actually pulls out of control it shakes all the way to the core. Lucius can react like a child when his temper truly flares, and when he's shocked he tends to stammer.

She blinks at Draco, her eyes still so wide and bright.]

I wouldn't know what to do, if one of my friends ever turned out to say things about me like that. My friends are probably the best part of Hogwarts.

Mother and Father...sometimes they mention things being different, before. They never say 'different' how. I hadn't thought they might have lost friends. That you would have, either.

No. I expect I didn't. [ he can't tell, but he expects that there's something in his expression that may suggest a dull sense of hope that she might get why that is now. She's not stupid, after all. She's his sister: inherent in that is the knowledge that she's quite intelligent, albeit probably in a more academic way than any kind of 'street smart'.

[ Much like Draco, who'd always taken for granted that the people who surrounded him liked him and were there for him instead of because they'd been told to.

[ Even now, it stings. ]

I didn't either. Of course, I'd have said Quidditch was the best part of Hogwarts. Or besting Potter. Or something else ridiculous and stupid. [ a soft scoff, wry and bitter. ] Perhaps that's why my so-called friends turned out to hate me. They were far from my highest priority.

[ and besides that, to be told in the middle of a battle. A major battle, one where more life was lost than was preserved. He'd been left shell-shocked. ]

We lived through war. War's never pretty. People lose friends, they lose enemies, they lose family. I don't wish it upon anyone.

[Her expression turns more troubled, frown deepening. Both at talk of the war, and idea that her brother hadn't focused enough on his friends when he was her age. It seems unthinkable.]

I love all the other boys and girls in Slytherin. [For a moment her words are downright shy; cowed by this tragic possibility.] We have such fun together. And my best friends -- I don't know what I'd do without them.

[But she clears her throat again, trying to shine once more, trying to find for him a positive.]

You do still have friends, you know. Blaise, and Theodore. [She offers this gentle yet pointed, trying to cheer him. Finding something bright to offer him in the future.] They don't visit all that often but I know you do keep in touch. Meetings for drinks and the like.

[ he's quiet for the duration of her explanation. He's a bit jealous, in truth, that she can state all of that so honestly and securely. She knows she has friends and she knows she's loved and she knows all of these things that Draco took years to figure out. And even then, he was more secure in the knowledge that more people hated him than liked him.

[ The reminder of Blaise and Theo is met with a faint smile, a twitch of one. It's slightly wistful, perhaps mostly because he recalls bouncing between worlds and developing an even more interesting history with the latter of the two friends. It's nice, knowing they're still in touch after everything. Even if it's a bit disappointing that it's just meeting for drinks sometimes. ]

I suppose I'll have to be happy with that, won't I? It could be worse.

[Her family may have learned, from the 'mistakes' that may or may not have been made with him. Or perhaps they were simply so happy to still have each other, still be a family, after everything, that they no longer cared so much about appearances, keeping things in, what other people thought. Lyra was never taught to isolate herself, the way Draco was; and she was surrounded by the get-go with so much open and encouraging love.]

It could. [She nods, and hesitates thoughtfully for a moment before deciding to tell him this:]

Most of Father's friends are all gone, you know. Or in Azkaban. He goes to visit them sometimes, you know. It took some doing but the Ministry lets him. Maybe every year or so.

[Her voice is quieter and uncertain because this is something she never has much reason to think about.]

I overheard him and Mother talking about it, once. I guess some of them still refuse to say anything back to him. He only stands outside their cells and tries talking and they ignore him.

He said one of them spit at him, once.

[ he won't delude himself at all into thinking that the second child got a far different upbringing. It's abundantly clear just from how she acts that she's been treated differently from how he was. He's perhaps a touch bitter, but keeps it to himself; she doesn't need that put on her. And so, Draco's just quiet, regarding her evenly. ]

Does he.

[ it's not really a question; he's aware that most of Father's friends are either dead or in Azkaban. He was ther when they went away, after all. He was there when they died. He was there when his own friends and classmates died, and when the rest of the school rallied against him and the rest, hoping they'd all pay the price for their actions. He doesn't like thinking about it. ]

I can't say I'm all that surprised.

[ a beat, and Draco's mouth twitches a little. He glances away. ] I imagine it's doubly bad now. A blood traitor and a vampire.

[Lyra has an odd mental relationship with the War, with the Death Eaters that she knows her father and brother were once considered a part of - she knows that they exist, she knows all of this happened, and yet. She never thinks on it. She never recalls, until she is forcibly reminded.

It is a thing from another world, like out of her story books. Strange and shocking things that disturb but could never happen here, in a place where she can see. No, they're too outlandish.

Father is loving and Mother is graceful and Draco is happy and they were never anything else; there was never another life where they sneered and were cold in their pride and hurt other people. No, no, no.]

Why do you think he even still tries, then?

[She asks him this question dully, lifting her eyes again to stare at him with naive uncomprehending curiosity.

The phrase 'blood traitor' is so meaningless to her. She was never raised to respect the values that would load it with insult - but her family just never talks about that. Her parents never told her to love muggleborns and half-breeds, but in saying nothing they left the door open for tolerance to build, and never had the heart to try and nip it out again.]

[ he supposes that he can see where the disconnect might be. He too was oblivious to the goings-on and implications of the First Wizarding War, after all. It seemed hardly important, save the fact that his father clearly had clout.

[ Sort of.

[ Still, he can't fault her too much for it, knowing as he does that he was once like her too, prior to having his eyes forcibly opened. And he rather hopes she doesn't suffer the same rude awakening he did. ]

Because it's Father. He's too proud to admit they're lost causes, I'm sure. These are people he's known for years. He went to school with them.

And because it's perhaps a bit of a Malfoy trait to delude yourself into thinking some people care about you when they very much don't.

...That isn't funny. [Something in her eyes harden, and she sticks her lower lip out a bit as she angrily pouts, staring him heatedly down.] I know when people care about me; whether or not its true!

[Her friends all love her, for real, and she's practically the darling of her House. And some of the professors love her too, and other adults she knows, and then there's their family...clearly, he doesn't know what he's talking about!]

And, and you know I'm sure you might be wrong about Father and his friends, too. He wouldn't go back to them if it didn't make a difference. Maybe it's not a lost cause after all.

Then you're lucky, aren't you?

[ the words are snapped out before he can stop himself. After all he's not terribly attached to her right now; he doesn't know her, no matter how well she might know him. It's a touchy subject for him at best, raising his hackles and getting him heated in ways he doesn't like acknowledging. Much better to tuck it all away, to never think about it again. ]

Tell yourself what you like. But I know his so-called friends much better than you ever will, and ever should. Another way in which you're lucky. Revel in it.

Of course I'm lucky! I was born special. So are you! It's what being a Malfoy means.

[If he's going to yell at her she's going to yell back then, senseless and heated, in the way that only siblings can snap at one another when they've become upset.

She still doesn't really get it, doesn't know why he's unhappy or even why what he says is bothering her so. It doesn't really make any sense. But its her brother and he's upsetting her so, clearly they must be arguing now.]

I might have been born special, but that hardly sticks around. All I did for the Malfoy name was make sure the lot of us were known as blood traitors and cowards and bullies. Backstabbing individuals with no one to back them except hired cronies.

[ her yelling right back really only nudges him along; he doesn't have much of a temper, per se, but he certainly doesn't back down once things get started, not until he's worn himself out. And on this topic, Draco still has plenty to say.

[ He wishes that he could already be worn out on the matter, to just flutter one hand dismissively, sigh, and let her go on with it. But he can't, not when she's telling him rubbish that he knows doesn't stand in his own life. ]

Maybe that's why Father likes you so much. You're his precious, special thing. I'm just a bloody disappointment.

What are you talking about? Why are you saying such stupid things?

[She jumps to her feet, hands fisted at her sides, glaring up at him - her eyes might be blue not grey and her nose is shorter like their mother's, more button-like - yet the way she huffs and glowers like she's trying to shoot fire out of her eye sockets and the center of her face crinkles with annoyance - oh, that's not a Narcissa expression. No, not at all.]

You're barmy and wrong and -- and just plain ungrateful, is what you are! How is that, any of that, how does that make any sense?

You're eleven. [ this is said as though it's an obvious observation, one with probably more meaning than she cares to realise. After all, it's because she's eleven that he believes she can't see any of this for what it is.

[ It's a sneering remark now, his hackles still raised like a fluffed up cat more than willing to lash out in response. She can call him barmy and wrong and ungrateful all she likes, but he's well aware she has no idea what's going on beneath the surface for him. ]

If that's what you believe, then prove it.

AU, OC -- omfg, seriously, don't even aaaask

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I could have sworn I actually replied to this ;;

ha, no worries, it happens

<333

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dear lord i have no idea how i lost this

/frets quietly

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