The Good Son
Chapter 1
The hunt was the easy part.
Running; pumping his legs as fast as they could go, feeling the muscles in his legs and thighs clench as his skin was pulled tight. Feeling the wind brush against his face and turn his hair wild and still pushing forward with his target in sight.
When he jumped over rocks and ducked beneath low tree branches, the breath left his lungs in harsh pants, feeling his feet leave the ground only to fly back down with a thud and not a break in his pace. It would take less than a second before he would find his footing again and his heels dug deep into the grass and allowed him to shoot off of his toes.
It was all exhilarating, feeling his heart pump against his rib cage and the adrenaline coursing through his veins like the sweetest drug. Intoxicating, every bit of it. He knew he was addicted to it; the hunt. Prowling until he was suddenly there, wrapping his small yet strong hands around the neck of the squirming creature kicking against his hold.
But he wouldn't let go.
Wouldn't slacken his grip.
He had caught it, adding another notch on his ever growing list as he lowered himself to the ground, standing on his knees as he hunched over the rodent./p
His hands clenched even harder, feeling the pulse beat dangerously fast against his palms as the creature realized it's fate.
It realized it was dying.
And by his hands.
At that very moment, with its oxygen supply cut off the animal knew it was going to die and it knew that he was the one in charge. He was superior compared to the creature fading in his hands.
A smile slowly drifted onto his face as the whimpers started to die down but he wasn't done. Merlin knew that this creature's torture wasn't going to end so peacefully.
He released one of his hands to grab the silver dagger in his pocket, the one his grandfather had given him for his tenth birthday that was adorned with the family crest and a snake head carved into the handle. With one fluid motion, he cut a clean line across the creature's throat, shifting to the side as a spray shot from the vein in its neck.
It was beautiful.
Like in a way that reminded him of his mother. The way her honey locks flowed down her back in curled waves or how the gowns his father drowned her in, would flutter in the wind and brush against him like lingering kisses, like the kisses he would see her plant on his father's lips and down his pale neck.
It was alluring.
Like when he would catch his father encircle his arms around his mother's waist and whisper things he couldn't hear into her ears, or how he swore the snake and skull tattooed on his father's and grandfather's forearms would move if his eyes stayed trained on it for too long. It was like a sweet murmur that resembled the ones from the portrait room that would spill into his ear drum and remind him of how god-like he was just because of his family name.
It was mesmerizing.
And he knew it was wrong.
But he didn't give a damn because it enticed him.
He enjoyed the feeling of knowing that he had ended a life at the will of his own actions, at his own hands. He could feel his heart rate increase moments before he threw down the rock, noticing how a signature Malfoy smirk would dash across his face in anticipation before the inevitable happened. He relished in the sickening crunch that would invade his hearing as he smashed it down onto the small rodent's skull, not flinching as the creature spasmed with the fight to live. It was just a creature, one that didn't matter to him or the rest of the world.
Because it was insignificant.
It wasn't important like someone like him.
His silver eyes stared down at the dead corpse, watching the dark blood ooze from the bunny's ears and nose. The dark red ribbons streamed down the brown fur, painting the grass with its ruby stains yet he still couldn't tear his steel gaze away.
The image before him was too tempting to look away from. He didn't want to look away, didn't even want to blink.
His grandfather would be proud. His father might give him a nod of approval if his mother was nowhere in sight. But his mother wouldn't. She would see it as a crime, a sin against humanity both muggle and wizard. He sometimes didn't understand her logic but he didn't push it. He knew her limits and he knew just how far he could push the boundaries before there were consequences to pay. It was confusing to see his mother compared to his father and the Malfoy's before them but he loved her nonetheless. He loved her more than anything and anyone. No one came between a mother and a son and he knew that it was the same for the two of them. He was her only child, the production of her and his father's love, and no matter what he ever did, there was no doubt that she would always be there. He could have been the next Dark Lord and she would still be waiting at his side, ready to welcome him home as if nothing had ever happened.
But he was no Dark Lord, nor would he ever be, but he was still Scorpius Malfoy- the one and only child to Draco and Hermione Malfoy. At the ripe age of eleven, one year shy of attending Hogwarts, he was a perfect combination of the two. He had the brains, the looks, the money, the reputation, everything that could possibly be handed to him was done so only on a silver platter. The blood that swirled through his veins was the best of the best, coming from the brightest Muggleborn to ever enter the Wizarding World and the long lineage of purebloods from the noble line of Malfoy. He had, in retrospect, the best of both worlds.
And he loved it. He loved what he was, who he was, but most importantly, he loved the looks of pure terror that would flash across the public's face just at the mere sight of his family.
He lived for those looks.
Despite his mother being the appraised war heroine, a member of the Golden Trio, it was as if everything she had done in her previous years hadn't mattered to society anymore. Once she had put on the flashy wedding ring that his father had chosen for her, it was as if the band had tainted her. He had learned long ago that his parents marriage had been a taboo to the wizarding world, opposite in nearly every aspect yet somehow after the war they had been bonded together in more ways than he knew. People still gushed when they got glimpses of her but that was only until they caught the figure standing by her side almost possessively.
The ex-Death Eater.
His father was still avoided at all costs but it wasn't as it ever bothered him. His father was one of those men who would sit in a room and you can feel it: the simmer, the sense of some unpredictable force that might, at any moment, break loose, and do something terrible. It made Scor feel proud to beam up at his father, to feel the obvious power that practically poured from his father and down onto him. He basked in it and so did those around him. Besides his best mate's father, Blaise Zabini, and on occasion, Theodore Nott, his father generally stayed to himself when he wasn't smothering his mother in kisses or trapping them inside their chambers for hours on end. But his father, Draco Malfoy, was a smart man and knew when people had ulterior motives behind their gestures especially when dealing with their family. His father had taken over the Malfoy companies and that alone gave him control of nearly one third of the entire stock of England so it was safe to say that they were immensely wealthy and people were always eager to get a portion whenever they cool. They were so bloody rich that even with the money they had remaining after they alone helped restore Hogwarts and St. Mungo's, a huge portion donated to the endless chain of charities that his mother buried herself in, and building several designated Muggleborn orphanages, they had purchased land and built eight new Manor's that they used only for vacation purposes. He would be lying if he said he didn't enjoy the riches that flowed between his fingertips which, according to his mother, was a trait that he solely inherited from his father. Some days, more often than not, he would proclaim that he was nearly his father's carbon copy. The same hair, the same eyes, the same skin complexion...it was apparent that the Malfoy men certainly did have strong genes.
Then again, he based that entirely off of himself. He was the only Malfoy heir now. His parents hadn't provided him with a sibling and he was glad because of it. They had talked about it from time to time as a family but each time he shot them down, more his mother than his father, and it was dropped for a few more months until his mother would bring it up again. The fact was he didn't want to share. He didn't want his mother to share his love with another child or his father to spend his free time with his second born. He wanted to be their one and only and he hated to think otherwise. He deserved their whole, undivided attention and that's what he made sure he got from them. A second child was completely out of the picture.
But as he stared down at the dead bunny he supposed it would be even more fun to share his experiences with someone he could control. A younger sibling, boy or girl, would be like a puppet in his hands and he would be able to control every word that spewed from their mouth or every action they did before they did it. However….his mother would wrap her arms around a second child...kiss the head of a second child...love the second child possibly more than him.
He gritted his perfectly straight white teeth as he drove the dagger into the soft tissue of the animal's stomach. No. He certainly didn't want another sibling.
Not now.
Not ever.
He pushed down harder on the dagger, slashing through the organs as they spilled out of the bloodied corpse but the thrill was starting to fade, he could feel it leaving just as fast as it had come. With a heavy sigh he lifted up his stormy gaze to scan the vast grounds of Malfoy Manor to see if he could spot his next catch. Since it was their main house there were hardly ever animals on the property besides the small woodland creatures that ventured into his grandmother's gardens but when they went to the other houses, especially the one in Muggle Britain, there was a more selective batch that he could hunt down and kill. Here, there were only damn bunnies and chipmunks and squirrels and birds-
His pale blonde head snapped to the side as he saw a flash of brown scurry into one of the bushes and he quickly nudged the dead rodent under one of the loose cobblestones that he had dug a hole underneath. He couldn't even imagine what his mother would say or do to him if she found out about his...little hobby...so he had to keep it hidden.
For now at least.
He jumped to his feet, swiftly brushing away the grass on his slacks before he took a step towards the direction of what he had spotted but just as he got half way, from his peripheral vision he saw one of the french double doors open and his mother emerged on the stone terrace.
"Scor!" her angelic voice called out for him. "It's time for lunch. Come inside, love."
He glared darkly one last time at the spot where the creature disappeared before turning towards her and smiling the most innocent smile he could muster.
"Coming, mom!"