Ok, this is a really short oneshot. It's peek into Draco's life, and hopefully it will allow us to veiw him less harshly.
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters, except for the maid. they are the work of the lovely JK Rowling.
"Mr. Malfoy, it's time for breakfast."
The blond haired boy opened his eyes slowly, and rolled over on his plush white blanket lazily.
"Come on, Mr. Malfoy, you know you're father has no patience for tardiness."
The boy groaned, and the servant left. Ever so slowly, he sat up in his king-sized bed, and looked around his room. A small chandelier hung from the white ceiling, and a small Slytherin flag stuck on one of the walls. Because it was summer, the fireplace was bare. His wall to wall French windows had a shade drawn across them, blocking the sun. Quickly mended. Reaching for his bedside table, he found his wand and pointed it towards the shades, which flew apart, flooding the room with light. He swung his feet over the side of his bed, slipped them into his slippers, and donned his silk robe.
He made his way out of his room, down the stairs, and into the dining room. As he entered the room, he saw with a sinking feeling that someone was already at the table, someone he wasn't particularly happy to see. He took a deep breath, and found his seat, with a steaming plate of bacon and eggs before him.
"Draco," Lucius Malfoy greeted his son, "took you long enough to get yourself down here." Draco said nothing, just reached for a roll, butter, and knife. "Laziness will get you nowhere, boy."
"Yes father." He tried to focus all his concentration on his eggs.
"Are you even listening to me? You look like a mess. Fix that hair of yours, the whole world doesn't need a demonstration of what you look like when you first come out of bed! And will you sit up straight!"
Draco matted his bedhead and straightened his posture, eager to get his father off his back.
"Anyway, I came here to tell you that your mother is not feeling well again, and she needs peace and quiet. I need not mention that we do not need a repeat of yesterday."
The young boy grimaced at the thought. The bruise on his arm still hurt. "If anything of the sort happens again, you will view yesterday's punishment as a light one."
"Yes sir."
"I will be preoccupied in my office today, so I do not need to be troubled by you. If there is anything you need, bother the servants with your childish requests. And I want you to work on you're homework today; you need to start doing better in school. As you probably remember, I was not pleased with you're dreadful grades this past year." Yes, being locked in his closet for a whole day until his mother realized he was missing did indeed transmit the message.
"But father," he protested again, "those teachers were not fair. They do not like me. Besides, I did well in potions."
"Silence!" his father roared, banging his stick on the table. "I don't have time to listen to you're blubbering excuses, and you know as well as I that the grades Severus Snape gives has nothing to do with how well you do in his classes. If you want to end up in the ministry like me, then you will have to work harder.
Try as he might, Draco was finding it harder and Harder to concentrate in his eggs. Now he just lost it.
"You think I don't try hard enough! Maybe I'm don't want to work in the ministry! Maybe I'm just stupid!"
He saw the stick hit his back before he felt the pain. He recoiled.
"Be quiet! You know how important our position in the ministry is! I will not be embarrassed by a son who is too lazy to achieve his goal." His father was yelling, his stick raised again. He lowered it slowly. "Now look what you did, you insolent boy.you've disturbed you're mother. Not another word out of you!" his father turned in a huff and left the room. Draco sat there, nursing his bruise. He sat there, staring out onto the grounds, and then slowly resumed eating, only to discover his eggs had turned cold.
"Quersa!...Quersa!" Where is that idiot of a servant, he thought to himself. She stumbled into the room.
"Yes, Mr. Malfoy?"
"This food is cold. I want it warmed up. Now!" The young girl fumblingly gathered the plate and brought them into the next room, leaving Draco alone. He stared at the rapidly swelling bruise. He tried to please his father, he really did. It was just never enough.