Draco Malfoy never questioned his father's order growing up, nor did he resent him for the tiny bit of love he rarely showed him. It was fine after all since his mother was always there to make up for it.
Whenever his father ignored him, his mother bought him sweets.
When his father was less than impressed by his improving magical skills, his mother always hugged him and said, "You're the best wizard this family has ever seen."
She was always there to soften the pain his father caused him, and he loved his mother for it all the more.
That's why he was very defensive of her.
That's why he always took care of her.
That's why he would never let anything happen to her if he could stop it.
~oOo~
There were times he wondered why his mother would wear long sleeved clothing on hot days, but her soft smile and quiet, "Do not worry, my love," was always enough.
It was the same when she would wear glass that covered her beautiful eyes, and scarfs that covered her delicate neck entirely.
All it took was a reassuring pat or waive of her hand for a young Draco of seven years old to believe all was well.
And believe it he did-until it wasn't.
~oOo~
He heard his mother cry many nights in one of the empty rooms of the mansion. And he would always convince her to spend the night in his small bed while he watched over her in case some monsters were hurting her at night.
"Don't worry, mother. I know father doesn't like to, but I'll protect you," he would say as he'd tuck her in as she would always do for her.
On those nights, he'd always work to convince himself that the fresh bruise on her face was because she fell, or that the marks around her neck were just tricks of the light.
He knew he could not question it, but he did his best to make it better.
Until he couldn't.