Written for the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition - Season 2 - Round 2
Warning: Violence, blood
It started slowly.
"Cinderella?" he asked, frowning. "What's that? A disease?"
The children's conversation withered and died, and they all turned to stare at him. Then, the giggles broke out. It spread like wildfire around the room, burning him with every noise, every laugh. For once in his life, he wasn't in control. For once in his life, nobody was listening to him.
He hated it.
Just as he thought he would burst, the giggles subsided to whispering, and a girl skipped up to him. Pansy, if he recalled her name correctly.
"You can borrow mine," she said, holding out a thin book. "It's one of my favourites."
He hesitated, looking at the bright lettering and colourful images. Should he take it? Leave it? Did he dare disobey his father? He scrunched his eyebrows, weighing his options. Father had said he couldn't have fairy tale books… but he never said anything about borrowing them. Draco reached out and took the book, placing it deep in the bottom of his backpack, just in case.
The moment he got home, he brushed off the maids trying to take his bag, and rushed off to his room where he locked himself inside and refused to come out. He stayed there, poring over the meager pages.
After dinner, he read over it again, and again, and again. Halfway through his fifth time reading it, he slowly dozed off on top of it.
-X-
"Why not?" he remembered asking, once. "Give it to me!"
The resulting slap from the question had him reeling back in shock and stunned into silence. He cradled his face, red and stinging from the force of the hit. It was the first time he had been punished.
"It's not fitting for a heir of the Malfoy name to be so insolent," his father had hissed. "Don't you dare speak to me like that again."
-X-
The book was simple.
It started out with 'Once upon a time' and ended with 'And they all lived happily ever', and real life wasn't like that. There was no fairy godmother to magically make things better and do the impossible. The book was made for simpler children with childish dreams and hopes. The books his father gave him to read were so much more sophisticated and mature, if not boring.
The next day in class, he silently handed it back to Pansy. She took it, and beamed at him, obviously expecting him to say something about it. He didn't. The bell rang, and they all settled into their seats. Draco could feel her gaze on him, as well as a couple other kids who had caught their exchange.
He went through his day the same as always. Recess, lunch, and lessons all passed by quickly. He shot down any and all mention of fairy tales, and his friends eventually learned to stop asking. All too soon, it was afterschool.
The group of them stood idly by the school's entrance, waiting for their chauffeurs to arrive. He took a deep breath, before making his way over to Pansy. Draco shifted uncomfortably before asking, "Hey, do you have another one?"
She blinked, then nodded.
"I'll bring them tomorrow," she promised.
-X-
Draco bit his lip, trying not to let the tears forming in his eyes fall. Draco's father regarded him with a derisive sneer, before turning and storming out of the room. He stood there for a moment, shoulders tense and fingers clenched into a fist. He only felt the comforting warmth of his mother's hand on his head for brief second before it was gone again.
She left the room, right after his father.
-X-
He ran his fingers over the title of the glossy book. The Princess and the Frog. Securing the blanket over his shoulders, he flipped the cover open and started reading.
After that was Rapunzel. And then The Little Mermaid.
Slowly, his classmates began chipping in. Snow White and the Seven Dwarves from Astoria, Puss in Boots from Blaise, Mulan from Theodore. He eagerly borrowed the books from them, hiding them in his bag day after day, until the maids stopped trying to take his bag away from him afterschool.
It was amazing. He had never defied his father before, and now he was doing it day after day. It made his heart race, and he felt so alive.
Maybe there were happily ever after's after all.
-X-
"Why can't I read fairy tales?" he asked his mother, softly, cautiously this time.
She brushed his hair from his eyes, and sighed.
"You know how he feels about exposing you to silly things like that," she said. "He says it's detrimental to your future if you believe in fairy tales."
-X-
The moment he stepped through the door, he felt the oppressive air pressing down on him. The maids standing beside the stairs were trembling, hands clenched into fists on their dresses. They refused to meet his gaze, and didn't move at all when he stepped inside.
That was a bad sign. That was a very, very bad sign.
"Your father would like to see you," one of them whispered, still not lifting her head.
"Where is he?" he asked.
"In his office."
That was an even worse sign. Draco tensed, hunching into himself as he mentally prepared himself for whatever was coming. Slowly, he headed for the grand staircase leading upstairs.
Step. Sweat beaded on his forehead.
Step. What did he do this time?
Step. Dread pooled in his stomach, stiffening his limbs.
All too soon, the tall doorway loomed in front of him. He lifted a hand. Lowered it. Draco took a deep breath, then resolutely knocked twice.
"Come in," came his father's voice.
He twisted the knob, and stepped inside. Instantly, his insides froze, and he could do nothing but stare in horror at the object on the desk. Behind his father was his mother, who stared gravely at him.
She wouldn't help him.
He lowered his gaze to his father again, and it was like winter had settled on the room. Ice was the only way to describe his eyes right now. His knuckles, lightly resting on the table, were white.
"Sit." It wasn't a question. Draco sat.
There was a moment of silence.
"You've disobeyed me," he said tightly, eyes flashing in anger. He slammed his fist abruptly down on the desk, and they both jumped. "I've told you over and over that you weren't allowed to read these story books, and the first thing you do is get them!"
The last part was nearly roared. His mother laid a hand on his shoulder, and he visibly took a breath. Draco said nothing, but he sat straight and wide eyed, watching his father.
"Get over here," he said.
Draco walked over. His father stood up and unbuckled his belt, ignoring the stifled gasp from his mother. Draco frowned at it in confusion, before being ordered to turn his back. He did without question.
The first blow came.
Draco's small body shuddered, and he cried out, stumbling forward.
"Get up."
He did.
The second blow came, and the third, and the fourth, fifth, sixth. By tenth, he was numb.
When he finally stumbled his way back to his room, he collapsed on his bed. He weakly lifted a hand to his cheeks, rubbing off the tears that appeared. How could he have been so stupid?
There was no such thing as happily ever after, and there never would be.