A/N: To the readers of TLSOS, I will be continuing it, but I've been very busy with Uni deadlines and then this decided it wouldn't take no for an answer. I'm sorry for the delay and it is still my main fic, though I am considering redoing it... But that's another matter entirely.

Anways, enjoy. Please note that not everything that happened in the early books has happened in this one, if something is different I'll mention it, though it probably, maybe, won't be anything too different... Maybe. Yes, I have considered writing this from book one, but the story really starts here, I can't really picture it happening elsewhere... Enough rambling; enjoy. ^.^

Chapter One

Draco absently stared out the window of Malfoy Manor, the cold typically English weather staring back at him as the skies poured. He stood as still as a statue, waiting, holding his breath. There, it was time; the slam of a door, the scurrying of the house-elves desperate to get out of the way, the soft creaking of the old floor as the footsteps stopped outside the door, the quiet sound of the door opening, the muttered curse that left him reeling on the floor in agony as the heaven's cried.

"You worthless stupid son!" Lucius screeched, his bloodshot eyes staring unseeingly at his son's bleeding and broken body lying on the floor in front of him, the storm outside had grown in ferocity, the lighting flash staggered through the room. As Draco reeled from the pain, his spasms wracking through his body, his bones splintering and repairing themselves; 'Is this what it's like to go mad?', he wondering to himself. But then, the pain seemed dimmer than it usually was, his father had never compared to Bellatrix's beatings, but there was a sweeter sorrow to them, only now it wasn't there, all Draco felt was hollow. The lightning illuminated his molten silver eyes, they were still staring absently, unable to focus on anything; lost. Lucius lurched out of the room, stumbling on unsteady legs as the high carried him away from his son, he laughed manically in the darkness as he walked down the long hallway and crashed through the door to his study. Not noticing the person watching from the shadows, waiting until the way was clear.

Narcissa ran into the seating room, her heart in her throat as she saw her son sprawled on the floor in front of her. "NO!" She cried in a whisper as she knelt next to him, not caring that her dress was soaking up the blood. She muttered spell after spell as the house-elves gathered around her, silently helping their mistress. "Draco. Draco, wake up for me please." She begged as her eyes searched his face for signs of life. Ever so slowly his eyelids fluttered and he groaned. "Quickly, take him to his bed and no matter what happens you are not allowed to let anyone into his rooms who would do him harm." Narcissa ordered her house-elves, before resolutely standing and following her husband.

"Lucius." She stated as she walked into the study without knocking, it was large and lavishly decorated to show the Malfoy wealth but not boorishly, as it still maintained an elegant air to it, one she despised at the moment. It was a long room with a large table and chairs at one end and her husband's desk at the other, in between them and opposite the door was a grand fireplace. She stared at her husband, he'd changed in the years since Voldemort's defeat and revival, and he'd managed to escape conviction after the fateful events at the ministry but was unable to really leave his house, therefore making himself of little use to his master.

"Ah, Narcissa, my dear." Lucius said looking up from his paperwork. The firelight flickering shadows around the room as the rain could still be heard outside. "Was there something you wanted?"

"There are many things I want," She said quietly unmoving, "Though, I only when I get them, I seem to find them somewhat lacking." Her cold eyes raked over his appearance, he looked shrunken and pathetic, put on his knees by a master once defeated by a one year old boy.

Lucius stiffened ever so slightly, to anyone but her it would have gone unnoticed, Malfoy's were a canny bunch, it was the micro-expressions and movements you had to watch, else you could find yourself flat on your back in a dungeon. "The feeling is somewhat mutual." He said echoing her words.

Treading carefully Narcissa started to talk, "You would think that after condemning yourself to this life, you wouldn't condemn your son, who is still innocent at the current time."

"You would think, after all these years, you had learnt your place." He replied slowly before leaning back in his chair, emphasising his arrogance.

There was a subtle change to the air in the room, tension flowing and moving like the changes of a tide. "You would do well to remember who I am."

"You're a sister to a Death-Eater and Blood-Traitor alike and mother of my coward son."

"Is he a coward because he will not follow in your footsteps?"

"Oh don't worry my dear, he will." And with that spells lit up the place, neither getting perchance on the other until the last moment, when Narcissa saw her free will flash before her eyes. What was left, for all intensive purposes, was a puppet dressed in her skin. "Now, you will do what I say my dear." Her husband said ever so gently reaching out and stroking her perfect cheek as an angry witch screamed; locked inside her own head.

Draco started awake; he'd heard a commotion coming from downstairs. Sitting up slowly he looked his bedroom; the bed was in the centre of the room against the outer wall and on his right was his seating area and fireplace, to his left where the doors to his bathroom and walk-in closet, he looked down at the bottom of his bed to find two house-elves staring at him; his and his mother's.

"Mistress bade me to take care of you and not let any who'd harm you inside, you'll be safe here for now." Ivy whispered.

"What of my mother?" Draco asked through a scratchy throat, nodding thanks at Eric who'd passed him a glass of water. He'd had Eric since he was 10, it was tradition in most pureblood families that a year or two before going to school they would have the gift of their own house-elf. Elves are fascinating creatures, they had unswerving loyalty to their master or mistress and they are exclusive, so only the one who owned they could properly command them, those who'd been imperioused and even the parents of the child couldn't wholly do so, it signified the beginning of independence. This is partly why house-elves were so undeniably important, even though most people never gave them a second thought.

Ivy frowned, her large eyes unusually sad, "Your mother and father fought, she has been imperioused."

"NO!" Draco yelled, throwing the coverts away and trying to get up.

"You must not, master Draco! You will be injured and your mother would not want that!" They screamed at him, their words running over each others.

Grumbling under his breath, Draco stopped moving before slowly getting out of bed and padded over to his chairs and looked at the wall of bookcases in front of him, "You're right," He breathed in deeply, ignoring the twinges of pain that covered his body, "Eric, can you get me all the books we have to do with the imperious curse."

"Right away, sir." He exclaimed and disappeared in a crack.

"Sir, Narcissa named you as my master, should anything happen to her, though on the surface, I must appear to follow her orders, you are my master, for the time-being." Ivy revealed before curtsying.

"I didn't know." Draco whispered enamoured that his mother put that much trust in him, before turning back to regard his books.