A vase smashed by Draco's head, covering him in a fine layer of dust and broken china.
He brushed his robes off with a barely perceptible sigh and looked at his father, who was still yelling, his face contorted with rage.
"What do you mean; you don't want to be a Death Eater? You have no choice in the matter! The decision has already been made for you!"
Draco remained where he was, leaning back in the chair, an insolent look on his face.
"Look at me, you disrespectful imbecile!"
Draco looked up lazily, pretending his heart wasn't hammering.
"I don't want to be a Death Eater, father, and that is that. You can't make me join against my will. I might do something rash, like become a spy for the Or…"
His words were cut short as Lucius pounded his fist on the desk.
His whole body was shaking with anger by now.
"Enough! I will not hear any more of your idiotic words! You are to carry the Malfoy name with pride and do as we must do! And now, it is time for us to serve our master, a task that you will carry out when the time comes, and carry out well!"
Draco leant back against the chair again, his eyes closing.
"Father. I do not wish to be a slave. I have my whole life stretching ahead of me – where is the glory in being someone's personal servant? The Dark Lord's days are numbered. He is in hiding now, he is weak, and his followers are few. Much as I agree with his basic principles…"
He shrugged, eyes still closed tightly.
Lucius gripped him by the shoulders, his fingers gouging Draco's skin.
He bit his lip, trying not to make a sound.
Lucius's next words were said in a deadly undertone.
"Draco. You must realise, that by renouncing this, you renounce your right to the Malfoy name. We will have you burned from every family tree; we will be estranged from you and any dog children that you spawn. In time you will become nothing but an old, half-forgotten name to your mother and I, and nothing to the rest of the family.
Without this title, Draco, you will have no doors opened to you; I will make sure of that. Each step you take in life will become all the harder, because of your choices now. Do you wish to rid yourself of everything that the Malfoy name stands for?"
Draco tried desperately to steady his breathing.
So now his father would estrange him? It just made the decision easier, in the end.
He looked up at Lucius, breathing calm, face showing no hint of the battle that raged within him.
"Yes, father. I wish to give it up. The Malfoy name is exactly that and nothing more, a name. I don't care any more."
Lucius's face grew even more furious, if that were possible.
He twisted around and started to pace the room in a frenzy, then after a second, wheeled back and struck Draco brutally across the cheek. Draco lost his balance and fell to the floor, where he touched a finger to his face. His nose was broken – shattered in two places. Blood dripped out of the crushed bone as he tried to breathe out of his mouth.
"No! Not merely a name, Draco! The Malfoy name! We are the best of all wizards, better than all the purebloods; we are the leaders of this race, at the very top! Do not underestimate what a name can mean!"
Draco sneered from the ground, his face twisting in pain as he did so.
"Oh yes, father. Leaders. Top of the pack, aren't we father? While You-Know-Who tells you exactly what to do and exactly how to do it. You are not a leader, father. You are a slave."
Lucius bent over him for a moment, eyes red with wrath, nostrils slightly flared.
Draco sneered once more, knowing it would be the last straw for Lucius, in which he was correct.
Lucius pulled out his wand, arm fairly shaking with temper.
"Crucio!" he shrieked, sending Draco reeling backwards as the pain hit him full force.
It had been a while since Draco had angered his father so much, and the pain seemed to have intensified from his memories.
Although he always had tried to block out those particular ones.
He twisted and writhed on the floor, pain shooting through his body, making unwanted tears run down his face, mixing with the blood from his nose.
Lucius lifted the curse after a moment, leaving Draco struggling for breath on the ground, trying not to cry out.
"Weak. That is all you are Draco. Perhaps it was better to have you decide the way you did. It will save us a lot of hardship later on."
He bent down so that he was level with Draco's face and whispered; "goodbye, Draco. You are no longer my son."
He stood up again, smoothing his robes down with his hands.
Draco closed his eyes, wishing he would just leave.
Lucius muttered something under his breath and Draco seemed to be consumed by white hot fire.
He screamed out as it began to eat away at him, leaving no mark.
It was worse even than the Cruciatus curse, if that were possible.
Lucius turned away with a hiss of robes and walked swiftly out of the door.
As soon as he was gone, Draco let the darkness take over, and he passed out.
xxx
There was silence when he woke.
Silence so deep and utterly whole that his ears buzzed with the pain of it.
He groaned, merely for noise, but couldn't hear anything.
Thinking that perhaps his voice had left him, for the moment, he beat his fist against the carpet.
Nothing.
Not even a muffled sound.
He stared at his hand, the pain still eating away at him.
Trying to stand, Draco realised that his legs wouldn't move.
His panic increasing, Draco tugged desperately at his legs, tears running silently down his face.
He sobbed, his throat raw with the silent realisation that there was no sound.
No sound, no legs, what had his father done to him?
He cursed his father loudly, shouting obscenities that made birds in the trees outside fly away in bursts of feathers.
Draco's throat burned as he yelled, but he paid it no attention, hoping, wishing, that he could hear something of the pain that wracked his body.
But there was nothing.
He tried again to stand but his legs were dead weights on the floor, and the effort required to move them involved strength, strength that Draco no longer had.
His body convulsed with sudden pain and he cried out, tearing his throat.
The pain became too much again, and he had to succumb to it, darkness enveloping him in its soft embrace.
As his head hit the floor, a steady trickle of blood ran out of his ear and down the curve of his jaw.