“Do you think about your parents a lot?” Harry asked as he picked up a picture Draco had sitting out.
“I think about them constantly. I can’t not. Their death the last clear memory I have.”
“Maybe you should try to forget them. You’re mother showed signs of kindness and compassion but your father was despicable and cruel.” Harry knew he had cross a line when Draco jolted up from the couch. The blond refused to look him in the eye but Harry could see his right eye glowing. “Does hearing the truth about him upset you?”
“I want to play you something,” Draco disappeared into the other room and started riffling through boxes. Suddenly the sound of quiet jazz music filled the room.
“What are we listening to? Is this a Muggle record?” Harry recognized the song but he couldn’t place it.
“Bill Evans, Someday My Prince Will Come.” Draco said as he walked back into the room. “This record belonged to my father. When Voldemort came to power the first time he burned every Muggle trinket he owned, but he couldn’t burn his jazz records. I remember when he first played this song to me. He smiled and said: ‘This is why Muggles don’t need magic.’” Draco explained as he took the picture away from Harry and placed it back on the table.
“My father was cold, cruel, and kind. He tortured Muggles but he listened to jazz music alone in his study. I can never forget all the terrible things he did but I can choose to remember the good things. I know it might be hard to understand, but that is what family is. It’s all the good things and all the bad things rolled together. I never want to forget any of it.”
- JoinedOctober 30, 2011