It was very late. The sun had hide behind the horizon long time ago and all the sounds of the day disappeared with its last rays. Still, a little boy in a big bed could not sleep. The strange and unpleasant noises he had heard for several nights had been bothering him. These sounds scared him and at the same time intrigued him. He was afraid of what might have been hidden behind them, but his curiosity grew with every second. He knew that if his parents found out that he was not asleep, they would be angry at him. He didn't like when his father was getting angry because he was screaming very loudly, and sometimes he even hit the boy. The little boy shuddered at the memory and covered his head with a blanket.
After a moment, however, the mysterious noises seemed to be getting louder. They were blurred, distorted by the thick walls of the house, and that made them even more curious and kindling boy's imagination. He slowly slid off the bed and walking on toes he had overcome the distance separating him from the door. When he opened them, the sound became a bit clearer, but not enough to place it properly. He approached the dark steps of the stairs and began to listen intently. There was no scratching or tapping. It was more like the sound of the injured animals. The boy felt a sudden chill. With all his strength he clenched his hands on the wooden railing and stopped the growing desire to burst into tears. If he didn't the parents would certainly have found him. For a moment he stood motionless until he finally decided to go downstairs. Only now could he accurately determine where the strange noises came from. As quiet as he could, he approached the living room door. They were set aside, so the boy with a thudding heart looked through the crack.
His father was in the middle of the room. Tall long-haired blonde, from whom pride hit a mile. The noble facial features showed his parentage, as well as the rich outfit made of undoubtedly the finest and most expensive materials. The grimace on his face reminded the boy of the feelings the king could have for the poor peasant. The object of these negative feelings was one meter further.
A man lay on the marble floor of the living room. It was hard to say anything about him except that he was a dark-eyed brunette. It was impossible to determine his high because he lied in an embryonic position and clutched his nails into his own calves. Determining his age and appearance made it difficult due to grimace of pain on his face.
The boy was shaking like a feather and tried not to cry for the second time. Finally he learned what sound he had heard every sleepless night. These were the moans of people dying in pain. The child was unable to tear his eyes away from the man's face. The stranger looked straight at him. For a moment their eyes met. The boy held his breath, and the man moaned and made a slight gesture toward the door. Suddenly, the green light flashed across the living room and dazzled the boy. Immediately, he jumped back, stumbled over the carpet and fell hard on the ground. He was not going to check what happened. He got up and as soon as he could he ran back to his room, closing the door. He jumped to bed in the blink of an eye and covered himself with a blanket. He felt unpleasant shivers and sweat running down his back. Two huge tears came to his eyes and slowly rolled down his cheeks. The boy bit his lip, and after a moment he felt bitter taste of blood in his mouth. He wrapped his arms around shoulders and sticked fingers painfully into them. It looked that he was not going to sleep that night.
He never mentioned his father about what had been worrying him for so many years ... He wanted to ask but could not, was not allowed... Again a strange force opened his mouth, but he drew only air and looked from father to mother. The elders sat in front of each other, burying cutlery in the dishes given by the elves. He tapped his fork on a porcelain plate and folded his hands on his chest. Maybe this indifferent attitude will somehow save him. He just has to keep cold blood.
" You don't like it, Draco? I also don't have any appetite today..." muttered Narcissa with bored voice.
She stood up and gracefully walked away from the table heading towards the fireplace.
However, no flames could warm up this cold atmosphere. The young man with a little resigned expression was about to give up this conversation and also leave the table when Malfoy Senior's eyes directed at him. His face was fierced, but also expressed some interest. Draco froze and could hardly hear the words he muttered
"Can I..."
" How many times do I have to tell you to speak clearly, boy?"
Draco bit the inside of his cheek and decided he was going to say it. Now he just had to.
"Can I ask you something?"
His father was silent. He only raised an eyebrow and drank a sip of fiery whiskey, waiting for his son to ask the question. But when Draco kept silence he decided to encourage him.
"Well, go on."
Another moment of silence.
"Why are you doing this?"
" Doing what?"
This time the silence was slightly longer.
"I've been seing it for a long time, I'm curious..."
Lucius didn't express any feelings, he did not even get angry, and that could mean that what he saw several years ago in this room didn't mean a thing to his father... When he thought about it, he felt a nasty stomach ache. He ate meals every day in the same room where his father had murdered a man. Curious what was the reason? What was the fault of this man? Draco was keen to know the answers to these questions and many more, swirling in his head for some time. He also had a weird, germinating, will to try it himself. He wondered what it felt like to be the master of one's fate. On the one hand he wanted to ask his father and ask him to let him experience it, while on the other he was still haunted by a memory filled with pain and hope of the stranger's eyes. He also remembered his helpless gesture of compassion for a moment before the glow of green light.
Draco quickly drowned out his grim memories. He noticed that Lucius watched him with attention. He cleared his throat and quickly gathered his thoughts.
"A few years ago," he began uncertainly, "I saw a man in this room. I would like to find out what you did to him back then."
Silence began to mercilessly prolong. Lucius seemed surprised at the question of his son. He leaned slightly forward as if to confess a secret to him, but after a moment he resigned and returned to his previous position.
"Why do you ask? " he asked coolly.
"I... I would like to try, I mean..."
"If you want, I can show you everything, I can teach you."
Father's words surprised Draco. He could not believe what he just heard. Lucius agreed. Without anything. He even proposed to teach his son. The boy looked at his father a little warily, but he seemed sure of his words. He even smiled slightly, though it was a cool and haughty smile.
"What do you say, Draco? Do you agree?"
"Yeah. Yes of course."
Draco could not control the spreading joy. He stood up from the table ready for action. Lucius threw him an amused look.
"Calm down, son. There is no hurry. I have to prepare everything. I promise that this night will be unforgettable for you."
At midnight the salon at Malfoy Manor completely changed its usual decor. The long table at which the family was eating meals was removed and replaced by a solid wooden chair. It would not be so strange if not for the fact that a young girl was sitting on it, tight with thick ropes. Her head was lowered and face was covered with dark curls. She did not move when Draco entered the room and curiously approached his future victim.
"Who is she?" he asked his father standing next to him. Lucius smiled ironicly.
"This is a muggle. A little loss for the world, but the benefit for us."
Draco shuddered slightly, but didn't get Lucius know that he was beginning to have some doubts.
"What should I do?"
"Lift up your wand and focus."
Lucius approached the girl. He tugged her hard by the hair, tilting her head, then hit her cheek. She groaned softly and opened her eyes. She looked around with fear. After a moment her pupils widened and she began to scream.
"Silencio," said Lucius and she went quiet. "Now, Draco, use the spell. You know it."
Draco picked up his wand and hesitated. His hand jerked slightly, but Lucius didn't notice.
"Come on," he said, "do it, it's simple, just say the formula and watch it."
"C-crucio."
The girl opened her mouth in a silent scream. Her fingers tightened on the arm of the chair. The nails began to scratch, leaving deep furrows in the old wood. She jerked forward, but the ties held tight. Draco jumped and stopped the spell. The girl's head dropped. It looked as if the muggle had lost consciousness.
"Do you have enough?" asked Lucius ironically. "If you do not want to have fun anymore, then finish what you started."
The boy looked at his father in horror.
"What do you mean?"
"You already know." Lucius seemed to be mocking his own son.
"Come on, Draco," he said. "Show me that you are a man. Act with dignity, as Malfoy should."
Draco felt shame and humiliation. He was unable to fulfill his father's demands. He did not want to disappoint him and was afraid of his reaction if he refuse, but he also felt unable to kill the girl. He looked at her with resignation.
She raised her head and their eyes met. Draco felt a sudden thrill as he saw the same look in her eyes that torture man had given him years ago. The memory of that moment made him turn away and leave the room in a sudden gust. When he was on the stairs, he noticed the green light spilling out through the open door of the living room. He held his breath, and in a few seconds he crossed the distance separating him from his room. Once inside, he slammed the door shut and sit down on the bed. He was furious at himself for failing his father's expectations, but also at Lucius, who told him to do something over his strength. After a moment he heard the door creak and froze without motion. He thought Lucius would burst right into his room, mad at Draco for obvious disobedience. The boy, with attention and in complete silence, listened to his father's steps. For a moment he imagined his anger. He heard the approaching steps and felt helpless. Just a moment and Lucius will appear in his room, only a few seconds and he'll be there. The steps slowly began to get away, but Draco did not feel any calmer. For many hours he sat on the bed, listening to the terrifying silence, interrupted only by the clock ticking and the creaking of individual boards. At every sound, he glanced shyly at the closed door of his room. The voices of the night did not let to fall asleep.