Narcissa Malfoy prowled the halls of their large mansions, hearing the torturing noise of her son crying up in his bedroom. She knew what had happened to him and had to shed a tear herself. How could Lucius continue with these violent outbursts, he had took her other child's life and she could not help but think it was her little boy who was about to go next. She reminisced about holding him as a child, letting him cry during thunderstorms and laughing along with him at the pictures of their relatives playing Quidditch in one of the large oil paintings on the second floor of their estate. Now it seemed she could do nothing, simply wait and see what would happen next.
He lay there as quietly as he could, occasionally letting out a sob, but afraid to call out for fear his father would come back and hit him again. His blonde hair was matted with blood and his gray eyes were squeezed shut, too scared to see the damage that had been done to him. Everybody hated him, he knew this. That no matter how tough he acted in public, no matter how much he taunted and intimidated, he was weak beyond measure. His father had taught him that.
Slowly, he attempted to stand up but quickly collapsed onto the stone floor again. What had he done so wrong? All he did was attempt to write Hermione Granger a letter, asking if he could see her over the summer. Nobody knew about his crush on her, until his father discovered the letter in his drawer. He was forbidden to like a Muggle. His father had attempted to beat his feelings out, but it didn't change anything.
He groaned again and lay there breathing until he regained his strength. Pulling himself off the ground he headed to the bathroom to wash off the blood. He couldn't let his mother see him like this; it would just break her heart. Upon entering the bathroom he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and almost fell down again. His blonde hair was polluted with his own blood, his lip was swollen and he had a black eye. He took a deep breath and after undressing, stepped into the shower and let the warm water soothe his aching muscles.
"I'll still like her," He whispered to himself, afraid his father would hear, "Not matter how many times he hits me."
School was starting tomorrow, but he knew he would never get away from his dad, considering he went home for the Christmas break.
"Stay strong Draco, stay strong"
