Anyone observing Draco and Narcissa Malfoy in their manor one cold, blustery November would have thought they seemed the height of content. They, as well as Lucius, were laughing and joking and generally having a merry old time. However, to the peeping observer watching, this would have merely been a façade. Indeed, Draco Malfoy felt positively dreadful. The last of the trials by Wizengamot had concluded just yesterday. Today was his father's last day with the family, for tomorrow, he would be shipped off to Azkaban to serve a ten year sentence.
Draco knew that their family had been let off lightly. His father should have, by all rights, gotten a life sentence. Yet once again, Potter the Hero had swooped down and saved the day. Arriving dramatically late to the trial, he had had to sit down for several minutes to curb his panting (Draco had sneered at his pathetic out-of-shape condition) before he managed to wheeze out defenses for the Malfoys.
Listening to Potter recount the details of the Final Battle had been painful. Draco had hoped to forget about it as soon as possible and continue with his life, or lack thereof. But Potter wouldn't let him forget. He'd continue to plague Draco's nightmares, his startling green eyes pleading with him as he lifted his wand to perform an Unforgivable…
No. Draco wouldn't think about that now. Yes, the Malfoys had been exceedingly lucky to escape as lightly as they did. Narcissa had no reason to face any punishment whatsoever. Most surprising, however, was that Draco had gotten off scot-free as well. Again, it was probably all thanks to Potter. Draco gritted his teeth in frustration. He really hated being in that boy's debt. Potter had spoken up for Draco at the trial as well.
"Your opinion, Mr. Potter?" Harry paused, looking at Draco before wetting his lips to speak. "Your Honor, Draco Malfoy began sixth year, arrogant and proud, claiming to have received a special task from Lord Voldemort. I watched him for a while, mistrusting him, as I later found was well worthwhile. I am sure the Wizengamot needs no reminder of the incident on the Astronomy Tower that year…" he tapered off, seeming to be lost in memory. Draco inwardly groaned as he closed his eyes. He should have known that Potter wouldn't defend him as he had defended his mother.
Grizzlybanks, newly appointed Chief Warlock, cleared her throat. "Yes, the Wizengamot is aware. Please continue." Harry jerked himself out of his memories and continued. "I was with Professor Dumbledore that day. I saw Mal- Draco Disarm him and prepare to kill him. From their conversation, it was evident that he had been coerced into this act by Lord Voldemort, under the threat of his parents' deaths. When it came time, however, Draco could not do it. He is not a killer.
"This last summer, while I was on the run, I was kidnapped by Snatchers and taken to Malfoy Manor. There, Bellatrix had a suspicion that I was Harry Potter, though Hermione had cast a few quick charms to cover my appearance. She called Draco to come see. I knew that he could tell who I was. He saw Hermione and Ron there as well. He had ample opportunity to turn us in. He didn't. He lied to his family and the other Death Eaters, at great personal risk, to ensure our safety. I do not need to know his motives for this. All I care about is that he saved my life that day, whether he meant to or not. He is young, no older than I am. Just as I have had, he has also had great responsibility thrust onto him at too young an age. I believe his actions were solely to ensure that he and his family remained safe. That's all, Your Honor."
Eloquent words, Draco mused. Yet no more and no less than he had spoken for any of the others at trial. Perhaps Potter had felt it necessary and fitting that he bring those Death Eaters that had remained loyal to the Dark Lord to justice? Had Draco been in his place, he couldn't say for sure he would have allowed them all fair trial. He would have been vengeful and angry, seeking to root out every last one and kill them with his own two hands. Perhaps that was the primary difference between him and Potter.
Ten years was a long time, and Lucius wasn't getting any younger. Draco could well imagine how Azkaban would treat him. Curiously, he felt nothing, no sadness, no anger. He just felt empty, as if someone had reached into him and taken out a small piece of his heart, leaving a gaping hole in its place. Yes, Draco truly loved his father, and though Lucius may not ever show it, he loved him too, quite deeply. The events of the Final Battle had shown Draco that fact all too clearly.
He was jerked out of his own wandering thoughts by the advent of his house elf, Winky. Draco had seen her at the Final Battle, looking hopelessly lost and confused, not to mention quite addled up by butterbeer. Taking pity on her, he had saved her from the raucous curses of the Death Eaters. In gratitude, she had pledged her undying loyalty to him and had served him faithfully ever since.
Now Winky pulled on his sleeve. "Master Draco is eating his dinner, please. Winky is having to clear up soon." He nodded at her absentmindedly, obediently putting a spoonful of tepid soup in his mouth.
"You may clear up, Winky. I'm not hungry." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Narcissa frown slightly. He sighed. She worried about him too much, analyzing every behavior of his as though he were mentally unstable. Draco rather thought she expected him to break down any minute.
Not to say he wasn't doing a good job of hiding it. The nightmares were the only constant in Draco's life, returning every night to haunt him. He always had the same nightmares- he was back in the dungeons of Malfoy Manor, torturing innocent Muggles while he himself was being held at wand point by Voldemort. First a small boy, as his mother was forced to watch, then the mother, and finally, a teenage girl Draco's age. Always, the girl morphed into Potter. Always, his green eyes would plead with Draco. Always, he would rasp out just two words in a broken voice: "Please, Draco." Always, Draco would raise his wand to cast the curse. Always, he would wake up just before he spoke, his tears mingling with sweat.
Draco had grown used to the nightmares. It didn't stop the pain that came with them, though. On the contrary, each night was becoming progressively worse. Draco had resorted to Silencing Spells to keep his screams unnoticed.
Draco couldn't handle thinking about the nightmares any longer. He turned to Narcissa. "Mother? May I be excused from the table?" Narcissa, who had been watching him with a troubled gaze merely inspected his face for several seconds before nodding in defeat, realizing that she would not find the information she wanted. Draco rose from the table and kissed her cheek before rushing from the room.
He crashed straightaway onto his bed, not even bothering to change. It wasn't long before he fell into a fitful sleep, tossing and turning. Narcissa stood by the door, watching him sleep, tear tracks running down her face.
"Do it, Draco," ordered the cruel voice of Lord Voldemort. "Do it, or feel my wrath instead. Give him a taste of our displeasure." Draco froze as a small boy of no more than five stumbled into the room, being led by two Death Eaters. Voldemort hissed in anger as Draco continued to stall. "You would defy me? I have commanded you!"
"My Lord, I…I can't," confessed Draco, breathing heavily. The boy began to cry. "Mummy!" he wailed. He turned imploring eyes to Draco. "Please let me see my mum! I haven't seen her in a week!" Tears began to form in Draco's eyes as well as he watched the boy wipe away tears. "Tommy!" came a shriek. Turning to his right, Draco saw a young woman, tears pouring out of her eyes as well, as she ran towards her son.
Just as she approached him, Voldemort gave a lazy flick of his wand. Draco watched in horror as she was slammed back into a wall, bound by an invisible barrier. "Avery!" called Voldemort. A hooded figure immediately came forward from the shadows of the circular room they were in. "I thought I told you to control her?" Avery's eyes widened. "My deepest apologies, My Lord. I-" "Enough," cut in Voldemort harshly. "Your punishment shall be discussed later." Avery flinched as though he had been scalded by hot water. "Leave." He fled the room faster than Draco could have imagined.
Voldemort turned his attention back to the woman. "So this is your son? Very well, for your indiscretion, you may watch, as he is tortured." The woman's tears turned to sobs. "No, please! Take me instead! I'll do anything! Don't harm my son! Don't harm my darling little Tommy! I beg you!"
Voldemort suddenly seemed to grow furious. "What is his name?" he hissed quietly, dangerously. The woman hiccupped. "He's named for his father. His name is Tom." Voldemort seemed to battle against a furious rage before turning to Draco. "Crucio him, now." The woman's yells started up again. She turned to Draco, still struggling against her invisible barrier. "Please, don't listen to him! Don't harm my son!" Draco looked helplessly at the boy, who was crying harder than ever. "If you do not obey my orders at once, you will find yourself at the mercy of my wand. As well as your pretty mother." Voldemort's voice cut clearly through the sobs of mother and child. Draco, not making a sound, gave one last terrified look at the mother before turning to Tommy. He faltered for a moment. "Draco- NOW!" It was the first time Voldemort had yelled.
Draco closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Cru- Crucio," he whispered. Tommy screamed in pain, his body rattling helplessly on the floor. His mother also screamed, and to Draco, it was the worst sound he had ever heard a human being make. She beat her fists against the barrier that Voldemort had created. Her hair flew wildly as she threw her entire body against the barrier. "TOMMY!"
Huge sobs took over Draco as he was forced to watch the pathetic display that he was responsible for. His own screams drowned out those of Tommy and his mother as Voldemort watched with a satisfied grin.
"Draco! DRACO!" he was wrenched awake by his mother. She threw herself on him, hugging him tightly as he choked. "Oh…God," was all he managed to get out before pulling himself out of her arms just in time before he threw up violently over the edge of the bed.