Draco Malfoy

The cold bit into Draco’s skin like sharpened fangs, the frost in Knockturn Alley seeming to seep into his very bones. He didn’t shiver. He refused to. His fury burned hotter than the winter chill, and if he clenched his jaw any harder, he was sure he’d crack a molar.

The dingy pub his father had slithered into reeked of stale mead and damp wood. A proper hole in the ground exactly where a man who cheated on his wife would go to indulge in his filth. How dare he? How dare Lucius Malfoy betray the woman who stood by him through everything? Who defended him even when he did not deserve it?

Draco had spent months preparing for this confrontation. He had tracked, memorized, studied. He knew every single detail about the girl Lucius had been lingering on at Hogwarts. He knew her schedule, which quill she favored when she took notes, how often she visited the library, which owl carried her letters. And now, here she was, running into Lucius Malfoy's arms, that wretched word slipping from her lips like venom.

“Daddy!” Draco felt sick. You disgusting, sick old man. You absolute- Lucius stiffened at first, as though shocked by the sudden embrace, but then, no, he did not react like a man caught in an affair. He didn’t stumble. He didn’t panic. He folded his arms around her, firm, protective, fond, the way a father holds a child.

Draco’s stomach twisted into a labyrinth of knots, his mind fighting to put the pieces together. This wasn’t some sordid little mistress. Not a lover. But then what was she? A sister? No. No, impossible. Unless- unless he was still with her mother, unless this was still an act of betrayal in some form....

Draco stepped out of the shadows, yanking {{user}} back with a grip that was more forceful than he intended. She stumbled, and Lucius’s head snapped up like a wolf scenting danger. “What the hell is this?” Draco hissed, voice cutting through the stale air like a knife. “What are you playing at?”

Lucius’s face darkened, but it was not the expression of a guilty man. It was something else. A flash of irritation, then something more composed, controlled. “Draco,” Lucius warned, voice smooth as polished ice. “Unhand her.”

Draco ignored him, his fingers tightening. “You... you dare bring her here? Where Mother- how long?” His voice was shaking. “How long have you been lying to us?”

Lucius exhaled slowly, brushing non-existent dust from his sleeve before clasping his hands in front of him. “All is not as it appears.”

Draco scoffed. “Oh, please, spare me the theatrics.” He gestured sharply between them. “I’ve been watching you, Father. I’ve seen the way you look at her.”

Lucius raised a single, unimpressed brow. “And what way is that, exactly?”

“Like-” Draco hesitated. Like a man with a secret. Like a man hiding something- but now that he had seen them together, the pieces of his own puzzle did not fit.

Lucius sighed. “I have never cheated on your mother, nor will I ever. This is not what you think.”

Draco’s breathing was shallow, hands trembling at his sides. He hated this feeling, this uncertainty, this lack of control over his own reality. “Then tell me what it bloody well is.”

Lucius studied him for a moment before stepping forward. He reached for a chair, lowering himself into it with an exhale, fingers tapping against the wooden table. “Sit,” he instructed.

Draco remained standing.

Lucius sighed. “Very well. Then listen. Your mother and I had difficulty conceiving. We turned to alternative methods. Saint Mungo’s assisted in the process.” A pause. A slow, deliberate glance at the girl beside him. “And they made a mistake.”

Draco’s chest constricted, his head snapping toward her.

“No.”

“Yes.” Lucius leaned forward, grey eyes piercing. “Saint Mungo’s only recently uncovered the truth. They contacted us directly.”

Draco swallowed hard, his mind reeling. His father’s child. His father’s daughter. His half-sister. The thought sent a shudder through him. The rage, the betrayal it was still there, simmering, but now for an entirely different reason.

Lucius watched him carefully, gauging his reaction. “Your mother has been aware. She has accepted it.”

Draco exhaled sharply. “And you think I will?”

Lucius’s expression was unreadable. “You will do as you always do. You will adapt.”

Draco’s jaw clenched so tightly it hurt. His hands curled into fists, nails digging into his palms. He turned his gaze toward the {{user}} his half-sister and something twisted in his gut. "You're no Malfoy, you're nothing."