RP: The Restless Heart
Date: May 29th, 1998
Character(s): Draco Malfoy, Narcissa Malfoy
Location: Achernar
Status: Private
Summary: A brief discussion regarding Snape's funeral
Completion: Complete
Draco turned the note over in his hand and read it again. The edges were frayed and grubby, his hands covered in ink from the paper. The note was barely readable any more, but Draco knew it by heart, wished he could read deeper into the syllables that were simply not written there. Why had he had no reply yet? Every second was agony waiting for his sentance. He knew, when it came, that he would deserve it, but he wished...
He had to convince himself that rushing it would only make it worse. The more time they had to think about it, the more they might see that he was harmless, really. That he had no reason to offend, and he wasn't dangerous. They had to see that.
Worse than this was the fear that someday, somehow, his mother would find out about his confession. It hung over his head threateningly, like his father's cane threatening to admonish him if he touched anything in Borgin and Burkes.
A noise at the library door alerted him, and Draco thrust the battered note back into his breast pocket clumsily and turned back to his book.
Character(s): Draco Malfoy, Narcissa Malfoy
Location: Achernar
Status: Private
Summary: A brief discussion regarding Snape's funeral
Completion: Complete
Draco turned the note over in his hand and read it again. The edges were frayed and grubby, his hands covered in ink from the paper. The note was barely readable any more, but Draco knew it by heart, wished he could read deeper into the syllables that were simply not written there. Why had he had no reply yet? Every second was agony waiting for his sentance. He knew, when it came, that he would deserve it, but he wished...
He had to convince himself that rushing it would only make it worse. The more time they had to think about it, the more they might see that he was harmless, really. That he had no reason to offend, and he wasn't dangerous. They had to see that.
Worse than this was the fear that someday, somehow, his mother would find out about his confession. It hung over his head threateningly, like his father's cane threatening to admonish him if he touched anything in Borgin and Burkes.
A noise at the library door alerted him, and Draco thrust the battered note back into his breast pocket clumsily and turned back to his book.