Written for the Golden Snitch Forum.

Ollivander's wand shop.

Word Count: 1,555

Cypress: Write about a pureblood.

Kind of Canon...

~•0•~

Draco Malfoy had never considered himself particularly sentimental. He was brought up on a lifestyle of duty and responsibility to be the perfect pureblood wizard and sneer at those without the same honourable title. The Malfoy family had built up a reputation around being cold and pompous, strutting around the wizarding world like they owned everything and were some kind of royalty.

Yet despite all the wealth, all the luxury – no real joy could ever truly come from a family that was so emotionally void. That was by no means to say that he didn't love his family. He did. Especially his mother. He loved her with all his heart. She was caring, nurturing and loving – all things a parent should be.

Yet he could not say the same for his father.

It wasn't entirely his fault, he supposed. His father probably garnered the same treatment from his own father when he was a boy. Getting the occasional slap on the wrists from that damned cane. Being scolded for crying, even if it was for good reason.

Then came the stories. The tales of Muggle-borns and their malicious deeds of stealing magic and polluting the wizarding world. He had learnt from a young age that despite looking like normal people, muggles were simply not. They were wolves in sheep's skin. Scum at the bottom of his feet. Disgusting a vile animals that lurked everywhere.

He had pictured ugly, grotesque monsters as a boy. The type of creatures that hid under beds and snuck around in the dead of night eating and maiming young witches and wizards who were too vulnerable to protect themselves. Instead of showing his fear, he had professed to his father that when he was a big boy he would hunt the nasty muggle-borns until none of them remained and he'd be the most famous and handsome muggle hunter in all the world.

His father's proud smirk had been the only real reaction from his father, and he vowed to live up to his promise.

When he'd first encountered a muggle outside his home at the spritely age of six, he did not expect to be confronted by something so... human. Feeling particularly brave that day he had wandered off past the manors gates and towards the dirt road where he'd first encountered a group of children.

To him, they seemed like regular boys and girls, out and about on the many beautiful walks that surrounded the secluded and disillusioned manor. Thinking nothing of it, he approached them with caution, glad to see that there was potentially new friends on the horizon.

"Hello, there." He'd said timidly.

The children blinked at him and only offered their greetings when the tallest boy, the apparent ringleader spoke first. Draco had engaged in conversation with them for a short while, introducing himself and asking what they were doing and if they liked Quidditch. The question had sparked a lot of raised eyebrows and odd looks, but thinking nothing of it the children enlightened him told him that they were playing football – which in turn caused Draco to looked puzzled.

"I've never heard of that. Is that a new wizards sport?" He'd said.

The same boy had laughed after an uncomfortable silence, oddly polite and patient considering how strange he must have seemed.

"You kick around a ball like this one." He'd told him, spinning around a big red ball in his hands. "And there are two teams who try to kick it into nets which scores a goal. I can't believe you've never played football! Don't your parents ever watch it?"

Draco had shaken his head.

"Oh, well..." The boy seemed genuinely disappointed that football wasn't a big part of his life "You can play a game with us if you like?" He'd asked kindly.

Draco's eyes had lit up. Oh, how he loved games. Competing...not so much. But winning. Yes, he had become far too addicted to the thrill of winning. But before he could even open his mouth to answer a deafening bellow from his father made every child jump out of their skins.

"DRACO!" Lucius Malfoy had come storming towards the manor gates "WHAT IN THE NAME OF MERLIN DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING?!"

"I-I was just-" Draco quivered.

"Get back inside. Now." He'd snarled.

Nodding furiously Draco had run behind the iron gates and watched his father turn back to the startled looking children. In a second that took Draco's breath away, his father had whipped out his cane and stuck the tallest boys back legs, sending him to the ground on his back with a frightened yelp. The others had turned and ran, screaming as they did so, leaving their friend in his father's clutches.

"If I ever catch you anywhere near my Manor again, you'll wish you'd never been born." He prodded his cane threateningly to the boy's chest and watched him scamper away like a cockroach. "Filthy Muggles."

Draco understood then why his father was so angry. He'd been talking to the creatures that he'd sworn to hate and kill. The same creatures that didn't look like the razor-toothed, beady-eyed monstered his youthful mind had conjured up. They looked like him. Only not.

Lucius had seized him by the arm so hard Draco thought his bone would crumble into dust. He was marched back into the Manor and reprimanded worse than ever before. It that one moment, Draco was truly terrified of his father and of the cane that came crashing down on his backside five times as punishment.

"But- they were nice muggles, father!" He'd cried, tears streaming from his misty blue eyes.

"There is no such thing as a nice muggle Draco. Have you learnt anything?!" His father had hissed, dropping his cane and taking him by the arms to face him "They are all thieving, nasty animals. They deserve to be treated like filth. We are above them Draco, they need to learn their place amongst us purebloods."

"Yes, father."

Lucius placed a heavy had on his son's shoulder. "Next time you see a muggle, I want you to tell them what they are do you understand? Tell them that they are worthless pathetic little insects. Will you do that for me, Draco?"

Lip quivering and nose running he'd nodded.

"Good boy," Lucius sighed and ruffled his hair with something close to fondness. Yet in a flash, it was gone, and he quickly conjured a hanky. "Wipe your face, and don't tell your mother about this – she will not be happy."

He'd learnt his lesson. Never would he be friends with a muggle or a muggle-born again. He would tell them what he thought of them just like his father did and do what he'd promised.

And so he did.

Every chance he got he told the Muggle-borns at Hogwarts just what they were; filthy dirty-blood ridden rats. Unworthy to walk the halls like his pure ancestors. Every time he did it, he felt a swell of pride for living up to his father's expectations. But another side of him felt something sink deep within his heart, a kind of shame. Not with all of them, never with all of them. Only one.

Granger.

Seeing her face crumble did not have the desired effect. Watching her pretty little face twist in confusion and hurt made him want to take it back, but he couldn't bring himself to do so. Those warm brown eyes filling with tears after every taunt, every remark by him and his friends made something twist painfully in his chest.

And hearing her screams of agony while his Aunt carved at her arm like a jack o'lantern, finally broke that barrier. It didn't bring pride, only nightmares. He heard that scream everywhere. It followed him like the wind, taunting him with every step.

When the war was finally over, he couldn't face his father let alone his past.

With a son of his own, he showered him with the affection and love he had never been given as a child. He'd married Astoria, despite his father's protests that she was far too close to being a blood traitor than a pureblood. His wedding had been a quiet affair, and Draco neither wanted nor asked for his father's presence or opinion on the matter.

Over the years he'd gradually decided to make contact with Hermione and occasionally spoke to her in Diagon Alley, that was if her own husband wasn't there. She had been cold and cautious at the beginning, but when he'd made it clear that his intentions were to repent his sins, they had an understanding.

And to his amazement, she chose to forgive him.

Lesson learnt indeed.

The largest weight left his shoulders and he'd returned home that day to a wife and son feeling more fulfilled and proud than ever. Now he only had a few more people to go.