The Isolated
I was ten-years-old when my father told me that I would end up hating him. As I wiped his arm, removing the poison that was weeping out of a wound, I was mortified with the thought. This was my daddy, my hero, the wizard who cared for me and changed my nappies before I could even use the toilet myself.
"No," I gasped out. "Daddy, I love you so much! I could never hate you!"
He was stuck in bed, too weak to do anything on his own, except wallow away in pity. He needed round-the-clock care after being struck with a curse from some disgruntled witch who he had exchanged ugly words with. It was very slowly killing him.
I'd read to him and play cards with him. He was happier when I did that. He only had me after Mother's passing and Daphne being in school.
Sometimes a healer would come and help him bathe, but I was his form of entertainment and treated his nasty wound. I'd bake for him too, because he missed Mother's chocolate cake, and I was the only one who could perfectly replicate it.
When I started Hogwarts, it was hard on him. I'd get letters from healers who would beg me to visit him to ease his anger and frustration. So, I asked permission to go home every night to spend an hour or so with him before I would drag myself back to Hogwarts and go to sleep.
By the time third year came around, I was starting to yearn for something different. Like most teenagers, hormones and the need to find myself kicked in. So I decided to try out for the Quidditch team.
"You're pretty good," Draco Malfoy had complimented. I could tell he was eager for me to take the open Chaser position, but he wasn't too ready to decide yet, since there were still a couple more Slytherins who needed to try out.
I was nervous, of course, even though I had the best aim of all those who had tried out, I was afraid someone would out-best me.
I bounced excitedly when Malfoy announced I had gotten the position. He teased me for doing it, because that's what Malfoy did.
"You look like a bloody pogo stick, Greenglass. Simmer down!"
It was the first thing I told my father when I returned home that night. "I got it!" I announced in pure bliss.
My father smiled. "I knew you'd get it! Didn't I tell you?! Remember when you didn't want to try out?"
"I'm so glad you encouraged me to play!"
Two weeks later, Slytherin was practicing for an upcoming match. Malfoy ran us into the ground, making us repeat our drills over and over. Vaisey kept fouling up the plays.
It took two days perfecting it.
"How much practice do you need to do?!" My father had snapped at me on the second day. I had arrived later than usual and he was in a foul mood because of it.
I quit the team before I even got to play the first game. Quidditch took too much time from my life.
Malfoy had been completely pissed about it. "Why would you leave us hanging like that, Greenglass?!"
I'm sure he would have hexed me if I hadn't been younger than him.
I walked away from the Pitch, my broom was tightly gripped in my hand. I wiped away angry tears.
I really did want to play Quidditch, but it made my father too upset, so I decided it was best to not play.
In my fourth year, I wanted to go to the banquet that Hogwarts had hosted. I told my father all about it. He gave me money for a dress, and even hired someone to buy me a beautiful necklace with my name on it.
I remember that night clearly. I had my first kiss that night, done by a boy named Matthew. It was innocent. Just a quick peck to the lips, but I thought it was the greatest moment of my life.
I didn't tell my father about it though. When I came to visit him after the banquet was over, around nine, he shouted at me. He hadn't been aware that I was going to spend "all night" partying, and he was angry that I hadn't informed him.
I left his room crying that night.
My fifth year was a tiresome nightmare. Juggling the O.W.L.s and my father's mental care was impossible. I was at home with my father more than I was at school, missing class after class. I merely avoided detention, simply because my father would write letters to the Headmaster, explaining my absence.
The end of the year exams were atrocious. I failed all but one class.
"Well, you didn't spend enough time at school," my father had told me scoldingly when he found out. "I know some of that is my fault, but you didn't have to spend all your time here."
He was right. I did choose to stay at home, but that was because he was so upset with me being absent.
I didn't go to Hogwarts for my sixth year. I knew it would be pointless. Until something changed with my father, I wasn't going to be able to finish my education. I couldn't do both, and he was more important at that moment.
During the next year, I catered to his every desire. His happiness was most important to me. I knew that if I had been in his situation, he would have done the same for me.
On my seventeenth birthday, my sister finally noticed the toll my lifestyle was costing me. She planned a party in my honor, claiming that I needed to get out. My father deeply supported this idea.
We partied at Hogsmeade. I splurged on a couple drinks. It was nice to get out and have a little fun. I got to talk with some old friends. Matthew informed me that he was getting married the following year.
I was happy for him, but deep down, I felt disgusted. All I could think about was if I had been more involved with school, would he have married me instead?
"I missed you," my father announced when I came home that night. "I'm glad you had fun. Would you read to me?"
I didn't want to read to him right then. It was almost eleven and I was incredibly tired, but he looked so pitiful, so I sat in a chair, and spent the next two hours reading to him.
Malfoy invited me to a Christmas party— I was sure Daphne had something to do with it. She was trying hard to get me to crawl out of my father's home and get me outside more.
I decided I'd bake some biscuits for the party. I loved to bake, and until now, only my close family really got to experience it.
I gave my father one to try. He asked for more, but I told him that the rest were for the party.
"How come you're making them something?! You never bake me anything special!"
I sighed. It was a blatant lie, obviously. I baked the man a sweet every so few days. By this time in my life, I knew exactly what the problem was.
I ignored his remark and gave his cheek a kiss. "I'll be back around eight."
"Are you sure you wouldn't just rather stay here and read to me?" he asked quietly, sounding hurt. "I would surely enjoy your company."
"I already accepted the invitation. Wouldn't want to be rude."
He sighed. "Okay, I'm going to miss you."
"I'll miss you too."
He lowered his eyes, frowning. "No you won't! You won't even think about me. You'll be having too much fun to even think about me!"
He was trying to guilt me into staying, and I wasn't going to. I really did want to go to Malfoy's party.
For the entire duration of that bloody party, all I could think about was the awful things he was going to say to me when I returned home. I wanted to enjoy myself, but I couldn't, knowing he was sulking in his bed, wishing I has stayed with him instead.
"Hey." Someone approached me from behind as I awaited for a house elf to serve me a glass of punch.
I turned around to see Draco Malfoy snatching a piece of apple off the food table. I watched him eat a moment, studying how his mouth elegantly moved as he chewed. My heart fluttered a little. I looked away, embarrassed with my sudden thoughts of having his babies in a life that I would probably never have. They were silly thoughts, I knew. Especially since he and Pansy Parkinson were currently engaged, but he was the first man to have even said anything to me— well besides my father, but he didn't count.
"How's your father doing?"
"No worse, no better," I announced grimly, gripping my cup, incredibly uncomfortable with the topic.
"I'm sorry to hear."
"Yeah, well, that's life."
"He's lucky to have you."
I nodded. I knew that. No one else in the world would have dedicated their life to him like I had, but I loved him, and so I did what I had to do.
Malfoy talked to me the entire time, barely acknowledging anyone else. I deeply enjoyed his attention, but I had to remind myself that he belonged to another person.
And so did I.
I got so caught up with Malfoy, that I realized I was an hour late when I got home. My father didn't like that. First he said that he had been worried. Then he said I had abandoned him. He finally ended his rant by saying that I didn't love him.
I didn't love him…
I was literally giving up my life for him, but he thought I didn't love him.
That was two years ago. I cry every day now. Nothing I do is good enough for him, not unless I sit there in his room, reading to him. It's the only thing he approves of me doing.
And I need to get out before my soul completely diminishes into nothing.
*/*
I saw Malfoy in a bookshop earlier today. I was shopping for a new book to read to my father, and he was picking up one that he had ordered.
He lips pulled downward when he saw me. "Doing alright?" he wondered, but I somehow sensed that he knew the answer.
No. I wasn't doing alright. I jabbed my eyes with my fingers, trying not to tear up at the thought of my caged life. I was going through my own mental issues, and my only relief was crying. I couldn't talk to my father about it. Every time I tried telling him my worries, he'd somehow turn it all on me and say it was my fault. It wasn't, but I was in a hopeless situation, and I knew it.
I felt Malfoy touch my arm and I looked up to see his look had softened. "I'm here if you need to talk," he said meaningfully.
I nodded, inhaling a breath. I almost declined his offer, but I so desperately needed someone to talk to, and Draco Malfoy was the only one who was offering.
"Okay then. Let's."
His eyebrows lifted, slightly shocked. I never did anything outside the home that was sudden and unplanned. "Did you want to do it now?"
I managed a smile, though it was a sad one. "I think my life depends on it."
Malfoy cocked his head, sizing me up. He then outstretched an arm, gesturing toward the door of the shop. "Let's talk over lunch then."
I accepted. I probably shouldn't have, but I did, and at that moment, I didn't bloody well care what my father thought when I wouldn't return home on time.