The new day arrived full of light and colour. The curtains fluttered in the warm breeze and the smell of pancakes drifted up the stairs into Draco's room. As with all children on their birthdays, he was already dressed in torp cotton pants and a white shirt much earlier than the celebration was due to begin. He ran down the marble staircase, two steps at a time and drew suddenly to a halt in the doorway to the dining room. The table was crammed with pancakes, waffles, bacon and eggs, toast, muffins and lots of pumpkin juice. Dobby the house elf stood at the head of the table holding a chair out for Draco. He bounded at Dobby and in one swift motion pulled the elf into a tight hug.
"Dobby wishes Master Draco a very nice fifth birthday," the elf panted as Draco placed him back on the ground. "You already seem taller."
"Draco don't you dare touch that revolting thing ever again," Lucius Malfoy boomed. He strode over to them from the other side of the room and backhanded the elf through the doorway. Then he turned to his son with glowering eyes.
"Father," Draco began, frightened. "Father, look what he prepared for my birthday."
"So he should, that is his job," Lucius' voice was suddenly icy. The sound of flesh on flesh echoed painfully through the room as Draco was struck across the face by his father. Tears glistened on the little boy's cheeks as his father loomed above him.
"Wipe those tears away, only the weak cry. Now go to your room."
Draco ran up the stairs into his bedroom and fell down sobbing on his bed. His birthday was well and truly forgotten...
It had just been a dream of a memory, but ten years later Draco sat alone in his dormitory unwrapping a gift from Dobby his old house elf. His parents always tried to make a big celebration out of his birthday but he preferred solitude and peace. He fondled the pair of knitted socks in his hands as he gazed out the window at the bright grounds of Hogwarts that lay above him. He was hungry but he knew that if he went into the Great Hall for breakfast he would receive many owl-delivered gifts and unwanted attention. He might even receive a letter from the Dark Lord which he was desperate to avoid. But try as he may, eventually a letter found its way through his window and into his lap. The cold parchment and hard, graceful scrawl was undoubtedly the Dark Lord's and Draco new that this one birthday message was not a happy one. After reading the icy words, with the Dark Lord's voice chanting in his mind as if he were whispering heavily into Draco's ear, he carefully folded away the letter. The quest he had been assigned seemed to strangle his thoughts and left him clinging to the whispers of humanity that seemed to slip from his fingers like smoke with every passing day that led to his darkest deed. But his humanity solidified and as he grasped weekly at the warm socks in his hands, made with love and sincerity, tears fell again.