I grew up a spoiled child, brought up to believe I was superior than those more unfortunate than I, whether due to blood-status or wealth was insignificant. As long as I could throw my weight around like the snob I had grown up to be, it didn’t matter. Little did I know that I was the poor one; deprived of true friendships, and coddled by the fake love my parents provided through their lavish gifts. Robbed of true familial love until the cold fear of death and harsh reality of war grasped my parents by the throat and they became true parents; protecting not only a legacy of Malfoys’, but their only child. And for once, we became a family during that pitiful time of existence that the Dark Lord reigned from Malfoy Manor. My father was nothing but a shell of the man I once looked up to; my mother was the glue that held us together during that time of distress and trial.
When the war ended, thanks to Potter, I was a broken soul; a remnant of the self-righteous bastard I had been taught to be. During that year at Hogwarts, while Potter was out saving the world, I cowered in fear at the presence of the Dark Lord, and lived with panic and terror for many months praying to any entity that my family and I would make it alive during those dark times. Countless times over, I cried in despair and desolation at the thoughts of what I’d done and who I’d become – how I had helped the war progress in only one summer. I was a lost and broken child at the age of seventeen; fragments of a person I was never meant to be, but always thought I could become.
When Potter and his sidekicks saved me twice in one night, a vital part of my soul snapped, and I was left desperately broken. I couldn’t keep myself safe, how was I supposed to live with myself? A traitor and a coward to boot – I was useless in my mind’s eye, a wasted, wand-less pureblood – spoiled beyond repair.
After the war ended, I became nothing but a shell, a shell of whom I had wished to be. I lived my life and carried on with a cold numbness that dwelled deep inside, but stayed buried never to show its face again. Instead, I donned the cold mask of indifference so familiar to my heritage. The days passed without any major significance, and my heart felt heavy with an unknown burden. The rigidity of my emotions overwhelmed me and I turned to drinking to squelch the pain inside. My father disapproved, but I could care less at the age of twenty. I drifted in and out of my solemn existence, walking the streets of the rebuilt Knockturn Alley looking for an outlet for my pain.
When I turned twenty-two my mother demanded I marry, but I couldn’t be bothered to find a wife – so she found one for me. I married Daphne Greengrass a year later. I’m sure she saw the dimness of my soul through the murky color of my eyes the day we exchanged our vows. My poor wife. How was I supposed to make her happy when I was so miserable myself inside?
When my wife became pregnant, I didn’t rejoice in pride, but I didn’t run away from the responsibility either. My unborn child was, after all, the next Malfoy heir. I vowed not to indoctrinate him with the glorious history of the Malfoy name, for it had done very little for me, and knew it would do much less for him now in this time of rebuilding our magical society. My child, whom I wished wouldn’t follow in my footsteps, and choose his own path in this world made up of shades of grey, had only me as a guidance so I learned to live again.
I spent seven years in desperate desolation, weighed down by my own cowardice and guilt. At the age of twenty-four, I took my first breath of life at the same time my own child did, the day he was born. I smiled weakly at the tiny creature in my arms, and vowed to love him with my soul. I knew I didn’t love Daphne, but Scorpius, he became the sole reason for my pathetic existence. The small tuft of blonde hair, and the deep blue eyes that stared back innocently, stole my heart.
I watched him grow up into a miniature version of myself with unrequited joy. I smiled more around him than anyone else. He was my child, my pride and joy. His unabated laughter touched my soul and brought life to my own dead eyes. He ran around our humble home in the countryside during random bursts of energy, and I spent a great deal of time outside with him; teaching him to fly a broom was the most prideful moment of my life.
Father always said I coddled him, and mother would sadly stare at me with a knowing smile. I’d scowl at father, and nod at mother before carrying off my child to his room at night.
After experiencing a fulfilling fatherhood for several years, I approached Daphne and asked for another child. She refused. It broke my heart. I asked again a year later, and she stated she’d done her deed as a Malfoy wife. I sneered at her before proclaiming I knew not my wife or the girl I married. It created a chink in our marriage that would make us complete strangers in our own home. Divorce briefly flitted through my mind for several months, but let it go because Malfoys don’t divorce – they have affairs. But I didn’t have it in me.
I doted on my son even more so from that moment. The Malfoys had to work now for a living, but it never stopped me from spending quality time with him.
When he left to Hogwarts, my carefree persona began to die inside, and I could feel the darkness drift back within. I lurked about our home in solitude as Daphne would nag about me going to work. I’d stare blankly at her before leaving, hoping that a certain Eagle owl would find its way to our home soon.
I rejoiced in every letter we received from him; especially more in the ones he wrote specifically to me. It warmed my soul to hear him ask for advice on girls at the age of fourteen, and it concerned me when he asked about contraceptive charms when he was sixteen. When he wrote to me saying he was in love at the age of seventeen, I furrowed my brow in consternation, never having known the love of a partner myself. After I found out the identity of his secret lover, it only briefly crossed my mind to break them up. Sadly, I realized that I was no one to question love, or the matters of the heart. I heard the Weasel didn’t respond half as calmly as I did to their engagement.
Now as I stand next to my son, watching him exchange vows with the woman who will be his wife, I can’t help but feel envy for all he had. Yet, I feel pride in him for being the man I never was, or could be. And as the bitterness waits to unleash itself inside of me, I quench it with the love I have for him, and look forward to the day my own son becomes a father. I smile knowing that he’ll make me proud, and that he’ll make a great father – even if it’s with a Weasley. As Scorpius kisses his wife, I thank all the higher entities that I didn’t take my life the day before my wedding.
Shades of Grey by mgle_teacher
Story Notes:
This story is now an audio fic courtesy of the MerMuggles on MNFF. This was read by FinestFirewhiskey: Click here for the link
Chapter Notes: Thanks snape's secret/Snape's Talon/Sandy for betaing this for me.
I'm giving this a 3rd-5th Years rating due to the mention of several warnings which don't actually take place, but are briefly mentioned or better yet, can be inferred.
I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. I felt my favorite Ferret (inside joke) deserved a little redemption.