Author's Note: 180 Titles challenge! I really wanted to write something sad, so BAM here it is! It isn't that good, though.

I don't own anything, okay?


Draco didn't expect to feel this upset. Of all the anger his father had caused him, of all the physical and emotional pain, he didn't expect to be so heavyhearted. His father had hit him, used dark spells on him, and even used Legilimency on him, when he had no way to defend himself.

He kicked a stone in his path, and continued on his walk. His blonde hair, one of the many attributes that were from his father, ruffled in the cold wind. He wrapped his jacket tighter around himself, and thought back to the times his father had been a good person.

Although he was eighteen, he remembered some of his baby memories. There was one in particular; his father bouncing him on his knee, tickling him wildly. That was when his father just wanted to keep him happy. The good ol' days, as some would say.

It was before his dad was a Death Eater, although a few months later he became one. After he had gotten that mark on his arm, he changed completely. He was mean, rude, and believed everyone who wasn't pureblood was dirt.

Draco never believed that. Being pureblooded didn't make you better than anyone, it was just luck that your ancestors didn't make babies with muggles.

But, his father believed it, and that made it difficult for Draco to have many true friends. The only people he could hang out with through his years at Hogwarts, were families that believed the same as his father, and those people bothered him horribly. For instance; Crabbe and Goyle. They had no thought process of their own, and trailed Draco around like lovesick puppies. He had despised it. Not to mention Pansy. Draco knew she was only interested in him for his money, and it infuriated him. He wanted to find true love--as cheesy as it sounded.

He sat down near the lake, and watched the squid splash in the water. Draco wondered how it would feel, to swim in that cold of water. He shivered at the thought, but then realized that the feeling of swimming in ice cold water in the dead of winter, was what it was like when his father was angry.

No way to escape, no way to warm up.

But regardless of all of that pain, Draco had loved him. Lucius had been his father, his same flesh and blood.

Most of the time when his father was alive, Draco believed it was hell. Now that Lucius was gone, he thought he would feel more free, more relieved. But he didn't. He felt like he was suffocating, so upset that he was ready to breakdown, right there by the lake.

'He's the one who's dead. . .why do I feel like I'm the one who is six feet under?'


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