"Get out of here you mangy cat!"
Draco kicked viciously at the old stray tabby cat that had wandered onto the property. His foot connected with the feline's soft underbelly and sent it flying into the underbrush of the bushes at the edge of the manor's property line. Draco scowled and and jammed his hands deep into his pockets, turned and walked away.
Kicking the cat had made Draco feel better for the moment, but it didn't erase the harsh words his father had yelled at him half an hour earlier. Some days he wished he were dead.
***earlier that day . . . . . . .
"Draco! What is the meaning of this?" His father's thunderous voice had yelled all the way from the drawing room. Draco jumped up away from the turtle he had been tormenting in his bedroom
and ran downstairs just in time to see an official Hogwart's owl leaving by way of an open window.Shrugging nonchalantly and trying to act cool, Draco tried to look disinterested at the appearance of the owl or the scroll of parchment that his father held tightly in his fist. He looked from the parchment to his father's eyes and held his father's angry gaze.
*SCHMACK!*
Draco stumbled of the bottom stair but managed not to fall down in front of his father. His father rarely hit him, but when he did, Draco knew he was in real trouble.
Looking up at his father through pain induced tears he waited for the second blow. Luckily his father had turned away from the sickening sight of his 'weak' son falling over a little 'tap' on the face.
With his teeth clenched tight Lucius Malfoy explained what was in the letter.
"Failing! A Malfoy of pure blood DOES NOT FAIL AT ANYTHING!! You little fool, how dare you fail your classes at Hogwarts!" The words hissed through his father's teeth like venom.
"I will disown your sorry ass before I admit that my son is a failure, a pathetic excuse for a wizard, a driveling slimey little snot nosed brat that has nothing better to do than 'play' with 'Mr.Potter' and his friends!"
At this point his father had turned around and Draco could quite clearly see his nostrils flaring and slight trails of smoke were puffing out of each one for added effect. Draco didn't quite know how to respond, so he wisely kept his mouth shut.
"I've warned you before, you musn't let people know how much we despise that Potter boy!"
Draco's gray eyes automatically clenched at the mention of Harry. Unfortunately his father saw his reaction. Suddenly his demeanor was calm and cool, and unsettling to Draco.
"I see. Well Draco, if you wish to remain in this family as more than a transformed side of roasted lamb on the dinner table I suggest you study your books and take the series of make-up tests that fool Dumbledore has offered to give you privately. Even he knows better than to publicly fail a Malfoy."
With those words Lucius Malfoy turned and threw the parchment into the fire and watched as the flames turned green and sparked as they burned the paper to ashes.
**present**
Draco stood staring at the backside of the Malfoy's Manor. The house and it's perfectly manicured grounds stood quietly accusing him of not being worthy to be Malfoy. He glared back and saw a movement in the kitchen window that caught his attention. His mother stood watching him as she sipped tea from a tiny teacup with little gold half moons along the edge. The good china. He knew she must be waiting for some other well to do lady friends of hers to come over and admire her newly decorated parlor. He knew she had married his father not because of love, but because of good breeding. The wealth and prestige didn't hurt either. She could have cared less that his father had just about knocked his jaw out of joint. As long as no one saw these things, it was easier to pretend that it hadn't happened. He heard the faint ringing insistence of the doorbell and she turned away to model herself in her new parlor.
Draco knew he should go study the books as he was told. But he just couldn't bring himself to be inside that house with those people who called themselves his parents. He looked around for something to do while he was outside pouting. He saw the cat he had just kicked, it eyed him reproachfully and ran when it saw him looking it's way.
"Hmph. I guess you're not as stupid as you look."
Strange looking cat. It had weird markings around it's eyes. Almost square. He remembered seeing a cat like that before, but couldn't remember where. No big deal, it was just a mangy old stray.
Draco wandered toward the woods that came right up against the back lawn. His father had warned him ever since he had been able to walk to stay out of those woods. He stepped a few feet into the woods and immediately regretted that decision. The hair on the back of his neck raised and felt like something was staring at him. He backed quickly out of the woods and ran to the house.
"Stupid old trees…..stupid old cat….stupid old…." Muttering to no one Draco wandered around the house looking for something to do besides study. He made his way into the library and picked up a book he saw lying on the table. He tried to read it, but the incantations were in another language.
"I bet that stupid mudblood Granger could read it….." His jaw muscles tightened at the thought of her. He hated that stupid mudblood! Constantly showing off that enormous brain of hers, and flaunting her friendship with that pathetic Potter and weakling Weasley. He slammed the book down angrily and stormed out of the library. Returning to his room he pulled out his books from the previous school year and looked at them. He couldn't do it. It wasn't fair. He shouldn't have to study. He should have an instinct for magic. He felt he should just know.
"Master Draco, your father insists that you join him in the drawing room." An old servant hag delivered this message and disappeared as quietly as she had came.
Draco jumped up, combed his pale hair and straightened his clothing before heading downstairs to see what his father wanted.
"Draco! Son, come meet Mr. Fislter Thuddledore. He is here from the Daily Prophet to get my opinions on the Muggle Protection Act that Arthur Weasley is pushing for."
His father flourished his son's entrance into the room as though he were a prince. Behind Mr. Thuddledore's back however, he was glaring at Draco to cooperate.
"A pleasure to meet you Mr. Thuddledore."
Draco's cold eyes were examining every inch of Mr. Thuddledore's clothing. He came to the conclusion that the man must have dressed himself in the dark.
"The honor is all mine Draco. Your father speaks highly of you. He must be very proud of your accomplishments at Hogwarts."
Apparently Mr. Thuddledore was no fool, he knew how to schmooze with the best of them.
Before Draco could respond, Lucius took control of the conversation. Draco knew his job was done and left the room. It was the same thing every time. First his mother was introduced, and then he was introduced. The perfect family. It made him want to puke. He got so sick of it. Everything had to be perfect all of the time. No mistakes were allowed, and if Lucius Malfoy viewed you as a mistake, well then, mistakes could be erased. Every day Draco was reminded of the cold reality of it all. A perfect house. With perfect decorations. A perfect family. Perfect clothes. Perfect manners. Perfectly disgusting. More than once Draco dreamed of piling all the perfect decorations into a big slovenly pile in the ballroom and raining buckets of frog guts on everything. He could just see his parents faces. His father's face. The reminder of his father's wrath sent shivers down his spine.
Of course, even he had to admit he was handsomely rewarded for doing his 'job'. His family took plenty of trips out of the country, shopping whenever they wanted, and just generally being the envy of everyone was worth a price. But lately he was wondering if the price was too high. He mulled his thoughts around in his mind and wondered.
*It could be worse. I could have a herd of siblings and be poor like Weasley. Or live with muggles like Potter does.*
He tried to imagine himself living in that awful Burrow that Weasley called home. Privet Drive was a little better, but not with muggles. He looked around at the fine furnishings and antiques in his bedroom. He knew a lot of people would give their souls to live in his house and live his life. He also knew that one day soon his father would be in a position of great power, and it would be wise not to piss him off. Draco studied his reflection in the mirror. Pale skin, pointed features, and intense gray eyes stared back. He stared at the place where his father has slapped him earlier. Surprisingly the skin wasn't bruised.
"I guess the price isn't too high……yet."
He picked up his school books and opened them.