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Draco sat up in his bed, wincing at the ache deep in his bones. He tucked his legs beneath him, methodically cracking every joint in his body: first his neck, to the left and the right, then his shoulders, reaching his hands behind his back, then his upper back, stretching his shoulders back, then his lower back, twisting from side to side, and finally his hips, pressing his legs outward gently. He popped his knuckles as he stood and picked out a pair of black silk pajamas with green piping and a finely embroidered M on the breast pocket. He changed into them and stashed his red sleeping flannel into his pillowcase. Draco shuffled into his slippers and pulled back the scarf he left draped over his mirror to check his hair, then limped out of his room and down to the library.
Draco curled up in his favorite armchair, pulling a throw blanket over his body. He summoned a potions book to his hand and flipped through it halfheartedly, too tired to follow an actual story. Dobby popped up next to him, and Draco started a little, then set down his book.
“Master Draco has left his room!” Dobby grinned, and Draco couldn’t help but smile a little. “Dobby is glad Master Draco is feeling better. Can Dobby get anything for Master Draco?”
“Sure, Dobby. Some Earl Gray? And maybe a scone?”
“Of course! Would Master Draco like his tea as usual?”
“Yeah, that’d be great. Thanks, Dobby.”
“It is Dobby’s pleasure and joy, Master Draco!” Dobby saluted him playfully and popped off to the kitchen with a crack.
Draco picked up his book and resumed reading, and Dobby appeared a few moments later holding a tray with a steaming cup of tea and three scones with jam and clotted cream.
“Thank you, Dobby,” Draco smiled gratefully. “Is my father awake?”
Dobby shook his head hard. “Not yet, Master Draco. Master Malfoy was up late last night in his study. He will not wake up soon and he will not be happy when he wakes.”
Draco cringed a little. “Do you know what he’s angry about?”
The house elf nodded tentatively, but did not speak.
“Are you permitted to tell me?”
Dobby leaned towards him, whispering conspiratorially, “Master Malfoy is angry about Harry Potter and his friends. Harry Potter and his friends went to the ministry, to the Department of Mysteries, and they took a prophecy. Master Malfoy is angry because Harry Potter and his friends were not caught!”
“Ah. I see. Thank you, Dobby, for telling me.” Draco forced a smile and waved him off, and Dobby vanished again.
Draco sat back in his chair, sipping his tea and flipping through the book, which was now balanced precariously between the arm of the chair and his leg. The tea was warm and just a bit sweet, exactly as he liked. It comforted him, helping to untangle the twisted knot of anxiety in his chest. He supposed he could go out flying once his father got up, but Draco didn’t want to risk his father’s temper. It was the worst thing about staying at the Manor for the summer holidays.
After his little breakfast, Draco mustered the energy to return to his room and get properly dressed. He selected his most comfortable black slacks and a cotton Oxford dress shirt, tucking in into his waistband neatly. He briefly considered not wearing a belt, but knowing his father’s temper, he instead picked out the softest one that left the least painful marks. Just in case.
Satisfied with the rest of his outfit, Draco sat on his bed and started to tie his tie. He no longer needed a mirror to check it, but his fingers were shaking, and he could hardly hold it in place. “Dobby?”
The house elf appeared with a crack. “Yes, Master Draco?”
“Erm. Could you tie my tie for me?”
Dobby’s ears drooped, and he smiled sadly. “Of course, Master Draco.” With a snap, Dobby tied it into a perfect Windsor. “Master Draco, forgive Dobby for presuming, but can Dobby help with Master Draco’s hands?”
“Thanks, Dobby, but I’m fine, just tired,” Draco said. He knew Dobby would see through the lie, but it wasn’t his nature to give in so easily.
“Master Draco’s hands only shake when he is in pain, sir,” Dobby protested earnestly. “Dobby knows Master Draco’s hands, and they are as steady as stone. Please let Dobby help your hands, sir.”
“Alright,” Draco sighed. He hated worrying the house elf, but he had to admit that the pain relief Dobby’s magic was able to provide was enormously helpful. He put his hands out for Dobby to hold, and Dobby’s magic washed over him like a wave, dulling the constant ache of his bones. When Dobby released his hands, they lay still and stable on his knees.
“Thank you for allowing Dobby to help, Master Draco,” Dobby grinned. “Is there anything else Dobby can do to help?”
“No, Dobby, I think I’m okay. Thank you.” Draco waved him off, and Dobby disappeared again.
Draco sighed. He ached for the company of his friends and the freedom from his father that being at school allowed him. Usually, he could at least rely on his mother for support at home, but she had been off dealing with his aunt for the past several weeks. He could hardly blame her; Aunt Bella terrified him, and most definitely required supervision. But he still missed his mother, and so he leaned back against the headboard of his bed and closed his eyes.
*********
Draco woke with a start at a sound at his door.
“DRACO! GET UP!”
Draco stood quickly, nearly falling against the bed as blood rushed to his head and his vision blurred. “One moment, Father.” Draco smoothed out his clothes and grabbed his wand from his bedside table to tidy up the room. Once he was satisfied that everything looked neat and in order, he replaced his wand on his nightstand and opened the door.
Lucius stood in the hall, furious. He was dressed in yesterday’s rumpled work clothes, aged firewhisky on his breath. Draco cringed inwardly at the scent, but kept his face his usual blank slate.
“Yes, Father?”
Lucius hit the doorframe next to Draco’s head with his fist. “What were you doing sleeping in? It’s nearly noon.”
Draco flinched almost imperceptibly, steeling his voice. “I’m sorry, Father. I was resting and fell asleep.”
Lucius scoffed. “Sure, you were resting. What do you need to rest from?”
“I was tired, Father.”
“Tired. Fucking tired. You’re fucking sixteen, you have nothing to be tired for. Don't be so lazy.”
Draco inhaled sharply. He knew exactly where this was going.
“If you just worked harder, you would be at the top of your class. Instead, it’s a filthy mudblood. You’re worse than a filthy mudblood, you’re a fucking disappointment to this estate!”
The screaming was making Draco’s head throb agonizingly. He bit the inside of his cheek hard, trying to ignore his father. His stomach churned at the taste of iron in his mouth, and he fought the urge to gag.
“I’m already married to a fucking leech, I don’t need anoth-”
Draco pushed his father back a couple steps, trying to sneak around him. “Father, please, I-”
Lucius backhanded his son across the face. “You’ll shut up and listen when I’m talking to you!”
Draco went still and silent. His cheek burned, and he could feel tears gathering on his eyelashes, and he dared not breathe. Slowly, he raised his eyes.
“Yes, Father.”
His heart pounded in his ears, and his eyes, though trained on his father’s face, were unseeing. Distantly, Draco heard a banging. Lucius whirled around and thundered towards the noise, cursing Dobby for breaking whatever he had broken. Draco backed into the wall of the hallway and sank to the ground, shaking. His face still stung, but he was too exhausted to move, so he sat against the wall with his hands over his ears and his eyes closed tight.
************
“Draco, cher ?”
Draco looked up, startled. He was still shivering, his shirt soaked in cold sweat. He saw his mother, and pulled his knees close to his chest. “ Maman? ” His voice sounded small and childish in his ears.
Narcissa knelt beside him, her hand hovering over Draco’s shoulder as if she was afraid to spook him. “ Oui, mon cher, ce qui se passé? ”
“F-father, he-” Draco’s voice stuck in his throat. His tucked his face back into his arms and inhaled shakily, trying not to cry.
“Oh, mon pauvre cher, what did he do?” Narcissa stroked Draco’s back gently, kissing his hair.
“He- he hit me.”
Narcissa froze against Draco’s skin, and his heart skipped a beat. I shouldn’t have said that. She’s going to be furious. I shouldn’t be messing things up, I shouldn’t-
“Draco. I need you to listen to me.” Her voice was soft, but stern, and so he raised his head and met her eyes. “I don’t know why he hurt you, but I do know that it wasn’t your fault. Nothing you could do would make it your fault. No one deserves that.”
Draco felt his stomach flip. He wanted to protest, but his breath kept catching just below his ribs, leaving him gasping through sobs, and so he let the soothing sound of his mother’s voice wash over him and leaned into her comforting embrace.
************
Draco scooped some gel into his hands and ran them through his hair, carefully combing it down. He hated the way the gel crunched after it dried, but his father didn’t like to see a hair out of place, and he was far too exhausted to risk his wrath a second time that day. Draco moved the scarf off of his mirror and adjusted his tie, straightening out his clothes. He had changed after the events of that morning, and the clean white shirt he wore was itchy along the seams. He leaned down to tie his dress shoes and startled at his reflection in the shiny leather. His skin was red over the raised mark on his right cheek. His father’s ring had left a bruise over his cheekbone, and he could see the beginnings of a black eye forming. His face ached badly, but he didn’t have the materials to brew a poultice, and it’s not like his father would allow it in any case.
“Dobby?” Draco called. The house elf popped into his room, standing at attention.
“Yes, Master Draco? How may Dobby assist?”
Draco grinned despite himself. “Dobby, could you heal my face?”
Dobby climbed onto the bed and put his hand over the red mark on Draco’s face. Draco winced at the contact, but after a moment, he felt a coolness spread over the injury. A quick check in the mirror confirmed that Dobby had healed it completely.
“Thank you, Dobby.”
“Of course, Master Draco! Master Draco should also know that Master Malfoy is requesting his presence for dinner in just a couple moments.”
Draco checked himself in the mirror again. “Do I look alright?”
Dobby nodded. “Yes, Master Draco! Dobby recommends that Master Draco hurry downstairs.”
Draco stood, putting on his suit jacket, and stashed his wand in the inside pocket. He left down the hallway, steeling himself with a deep breath, and entered the dining room.
“Hello, Father.”
“Draco.” Lucius acknowledged his son’s presence with a nod, continuing with his meal. “Narcissa, have you spoken to your sister about the Dark Lord?”
“Yes, she’s organizing for him to travel here during the last week of July,” Narcissa said. “A number of Death Eaters will be joining them, including Yaxley, Dolohov, Avery, Greyback, Rosier, Rabastan and Rodolphus, Crabbe, Mulciber, Wilkes.”
Lucius hit the table. “And they expect us to house all of those fools?”
Draco didn’t miss the way his mother flinched at the sound. It was hardly noticeable, but he was well-attuned to her moods, as she was his.
When Narcissa spoke again, her voice was clear and unhesitant. “Perhaps we could find alternate lodgings for some other Death Eaters. The Black Mansion is currently unoccupied.”
“Yes, I suppose. Figure that out. I don’t want trash like Crabbe or halfbreeds like Greyback in the Manor.”
Draco cringed internally at the slur. He knew his father wasn’t above even the most vulgar of insults, but even after eight years of prejudice, he was far from unaffected by it.
“Of course, Lucius. Who is permitted to stay with us?”
“Your sister, I suppose. Severus. The Lestranges. Civilized people.”
“Alright. I’ll send word to Bella and arrange a place to stay.” Narcissa poured herself more wine, swirling it around in the glass.
“Good. Give me that wine.” Lucius held out his hand, and Narcissa passed him the bottle. He filled his glass nearly to the rim, and Draco glanced at his mother, fear in his eyes. “Draco. Here, try this.” He grabbed Narcissa’s glass from her hand and passed it to Draco. “Tell me what year this is.”
Draco widened his eyes at his mother, confused and concerned.
“Go on, Draco.” She nodded at him imperceptibly.
Draco took the glass from his father and tentatively took a sip. “Erm. It’s… dry. Black fruit, quite full-bodied. Cabernet Sauvignon. The… Argentinian one from the Zabinis? Eighty… three?”
Lucius rotated the bottle so Draco could see the date, his face cold as marble. “Eighty-one.”
Draco swallowed hard, adrenaline racing through his veins. He pressed his lips together, already anticipating his father’s wrath. Lucius stood, his chair scraping loudly against the hardwood.
“Go to my office.”
“Lucius, is that really-”
With a flick of his wand, Lucius hurled the half-full wine glass in Narcissa’s direction. She ducked out of the way, and it crashed against the wall, shattering and spraying red droplets across the table.
Draco practically ran to the office, heart racing. He hated these kinds of punishments, but he’d do just about anything to keep his mother far from the receiving end of his father’s wrath. They had a mutually understood agreement to protect each other from him, and he had no intention of going back on it.
Maybe half an hour later, Draco heard the door open. The sound jarred him out of his thoughts, and he glanced up to see his father walk in. Lucius cut an intimidating figure with his cobra cane and unyielding posture. He was followed by Narcissa, who stopped just outside the door. There was a small cut on her forehead, presumably from the broken wine glass. Draco silently cast a healing spell, watching her skin knit itself together again. He offered her a small smile, but Lucius noticed it instantly and slammed the door shut between them. He faced Draco, his eyes cold and unforgiving.
“On your knees.”
“Yes, Father.” Draco dropped to his knees. His skin stung a little through his slacks; they weren’t meant to take much wear, he assumed, and they were most definitely not comfortable to kneel in.
“ Crucio .”
White-hot pain shot through Draco’s body. He gritted his teeth and clenched his fists, trying desperately not to collapse.
“You know why I have to do this, don’t you, son? You need to know these things, and someone has to teach you. I’m just trying to do what’s best for you.”
Draco screamed, gasping for breath. He fell forward, managing to catch himself, and the carpeted floor stung badly against the wounds on his palms where his nails had broken the skin, making his eyes water.
“Malfoys don’t cry, Draco, shut up! You should be grateful , not crying like a fucking weakling.”
Draco bit his knuckle hard, drawing blood. Anything to stay quiet. Anything to make the pain stop burning through his body. He curled into himself, gasping and panting, begging his father to stop.
“Get on your feet, you pathetic boy. Stand up and take it like a man. Crucio. ”
Draco convulsed, a choked cry escaping him. He cringed, knowing his mother would hear it from the hall. He tried to cast a wandless protection spell, but he couldn’t concentrate through the constant haze of agony, and so he closed his eyes and let himself sink into the floor, shuddering. He was vaguely aware of his father shouting the curse a third time, and the door opening, and that must be his mother, and another wave of pain overtook him, and he surrendered to it completely, and everything went dark.
*************
When Draco came to, he was lying on the floor of his father’s office. His eyes were closed, and he could hear his parents screaming at each other.
“Lucius Abraxus Malfoy, the Cruciatus curse? Really? He’s sixteen , Lucius!”
“I’ll do whatever I bloody want. It’s my house, bitch!”
Draco heard a slap, and flinched hard, trying not to cry. He raised his head ever so slightly, trying to see what was going on. Narcissa held her hand to the side of her face, and her eyes were furious, but she did not stay a word. Instead, she walked towards Draco and knelt beside him, brushing his hair away from his face.
“ Mon cher, peux-tu te lever? ”
Draco thought a moment, then shook his head, too weak to speak. He heard Narcissa murmur a healing spell, and managed to sit up, though he was still shaking terribly. His mother helped him to his feet and out into the hall, where Lucius was waiting, stony-faced.
“Deal with him. And next time, if he cries, I’ll increase the punishment threefold.” He didn’t address his son directly, but it was clear who Lucius intended the message for.
Gently, ever so gently, Narcissa helped Draco limp off to the living room. He kept his eyes closed, shivering and shuddering with the tremors characteristic of the Cruciatus curse. They reached the foot of the stairs, and Narcissa summoned Dobby under her breath. “Dobby, could you help us get to his room?”
“Of course, Mistress Narcissa!” Dobby whispered back. The house elf took hold of Draco’s and Narcissa’s ankles and apparated to Draco’s bedroom with a crack. “Would Mistress Narcissa like for Dobby to lock the door against the Master as well?”
Narcissa pursed her lips, then nodded quickly. Dobby snapped again, then bowed and apparated out of the room with a grin. Tenderly, Narcissa laid Draco onto his bed. The silk sheets were cool and smooth, soothing the burning of his skin. Merlin, everything just fucking hurt. Draco relaxed into the mattress, groaning softly.
“Draco, mon cher. You’re alright, I’m here. You’re okay. You’re safe now.”
Narcissa’s voice was low and comforting, and Draco managed to open his eyes, smiling weakly. “ Merci, Maman. ”
Narcissa clutched her son’s hand, so tight it nearly hurt, but Draco couldn’t bring himself to mind; the touch was still more comforting than anything.
“Draco. I’m so, so, so sorry, my love. I’m so sorry.” She stroked his forehead, and for a moment, Draco felt truly safe.
The feeling was interrupted when he heard a crash, followed by his father’s angry voice. “Fucking hell!”
Draco flinched, and Narcissa stood quickly. “Draco. Darling. I must… I’ll go sort things with him. Stay here. Rest. I’ll send Dobby with some healing potions as soon as I can.” Narcissa squeezed Draco’s hand, then left the room, carefully closing the door behind her.
Draco sighed deeply. He could hardly move, and he was exhausted, so he just curled up under his covers and closed his eyes to sleep.