Chapter 1
Draco stared out of the tower window, his focus on the grey clouds zooming along the sky. Rain splattered against the old window, making little puddles on the outside window sill. A small crack in the pane of glass was allowing a small stream of water to enter, splish, splashing onto Draco's arm. Draco lifted his head and moaned in pain as he touched the deep cut on his forehead.
"Fuck, now I'm going to look like scar headed, Potter." He mumbled bitterly.
Suddenly there was a loud knock at the door. "Draco?" came his father's menacing voice.
"What?" Draco said angrily.
He could hear his father unbolting the steel door. Lucius Malfoy entered, his black robes billowing out behind him, angrily.
"Don't you dare speak to me in that tone, Draco." Lucius seethed, his eyes dark.
Draco didn't answer. He knew better than that, so he focused his gaze on the floorboards, trying hard not to look too upset. His father always used this tower for Draco's punishments and Draco was starting to get quite used to it. Lucius had been punishing Draco a lot these last holidays, even for small things like swearing. This didn't seem to be having much affect on Draco because he still swore a lot, in spite of his father. Draco was still fully aware of his father's presence when he dared to look up at his father.
"Yes?" he asked, "what do you want?"
Lucius stared at Draco. "Your punishment is over. You can come down now."
Draco stared at his father with confusion. Since when did his father come up to tell him this? Usually he got one of the many house elves to come up for him.
"Uh, okay." Draco said slowly, rising from his small, hard seat.
He followed Lucius out of the tower room and they descended the winding stairs in silence. When they reached the bottom Lucius turned around and stared at Draco.
"I have something to tell you." Lucius said, no emotion evident in his voice. Draco looked expectantly at his father.
"Your mother..."
At this he stopped. His voice seemed to have choked up and he couldn't manage to say the rest.
"Go to your room." Lucius told Draco.
"But, what were you going to tell me?" Draco asked, looking confused.
"Go to your room. Now." Lucius said again, calmly.
There was certain finalty to his voice and Draco knew not to question it. As he watched his father disappear down more flights of stairs there was nothing left for him to do but to follow his father's instructions and he headed for his room. When he reached it he noticed that the door was ajar. Confused he pushed the door fully open and stepped inside to find his room completely ruined. His bed was smashed and his mantelpiece was crumbled on the floor. There were stains, which looked horribly like blood, all over the carpet and along the walls.
"What the hell happened?" Draco said to himself, entering the room and walking over to the bed.
Something had happened when he was in the tower. And someone had been hurt. The blood was still wet and was oozing down the sides of the wall. The smell was sickening. Blowflies were swarming through the smashed window and feeding on the fresh blood. He noticed that the drawers of his dresser were open and all his private belongings lay strewn across the floor. Whoever was in here was looking for something, he thought to himself. He then remembered his diary and all the letters he kept in a special box, all the letters that he and Weasley had written to each other. Panic filled him. What if his father found them? He started rummaging through the piles of broken wood and bedclothes. And then he found it. A small gold box with a small snake engraved in the lid. He opened the lid, expecting to see the bundle of parchment. It wasn't there. More panic cursed through his already trembling body.
"Shit," he cursed. "Shit, shit, shit."
He raced out of his room and tore down the stairs to his father's study, and flung the door open.
"Father!" he yelled, beads of sweat soaking his shirt.
He stopped. The sight that greeted his was not what he intended. A dark figure was hunched in a corner of the room cradling a limp form. He slowly moved closer so he could see who it was. He gasped in shock when he realised who the limp form was. It was his mother.
Draco stared out of the tower window, his focus on the grey clouds zooming along the sky. Rain splattered against the old window, making little puddles on the outside window sill. A small crack in the pane of glass was allowing a small stream of water to enter, splish, splashing onto Draco's arm. Draco lifted his head and moaned in pain as he touched the deep cut on his forehead.
"Fuck, now I'm going to look like scar headed, Potter." He mumbled bitterly.
Suddenly there was a loud knock at the door. "Draco?" came his father's menacing voice.
"What?" Draco said angrily.
He could hear his father unbolting the steel door. Lucius Malfoy entered, his black robes billowing out behind him, angrily.
"Don't you dare speak to me in that tone, Draco." Lucius seethed, his eyes dark.
Draco didn't answer. He knew better than that, so he focused his gaze on the floorboards, trying hard not to look too upset. His father always used this tower for Draco's punishments and Draco was starting to get quite used to it. Lucius had been punishing Draco a lot these last holidays, even for small things like swearing. This didn't seem to be having much affect on Draco because he still swore a lot, in spite of his father. Draco was still fully aware of his father's presence when he dared to look up at his father.
"Yes?" he asked, "what do you want?"
Lucius stared at Draco. "Your punishment is over. You can come down now."
Draco stared at his father with confusion. Since when did his father come up to tell him this? Usually he got one of the many house elves to come up for him.
"Uh, okay." Draco said slowly, rising from his small, hard seat.
He followed Lucius out of the tower room and they descended the winding stairs in silence. When they reached the bottom Lucius turned around and stared at Draco.
"I have something to tell you." Lucius said, no emotion evident in his voice. Draco looked expectantly at his father.
"Your mother..."
At this he stopped. His voice seemed to have choked up and he couldn't manage to say the rest.
"Go to your room." Lucius told Draco.
"But, what were you going to tell me?" Draco asked, looking confused.
"Go to your room. Now." Lucius said again, calmly.
There was certain finalty to his voice and Draco knew not to question it. As he watched his father disappear down more flights of stairs there was nothing left for him to do but to follow his father's instructions and he headed for his room. When he reached it he noticed that the door was ajar. Confused he pushed the door fully open and stepped inside to find his room completely ruined. His bed was smashed and his mantelpiece was crumbled on the floor. There were stains, which looked horribly like blood, all over the carpet and along the walls.
"What the hell happened?" Draco said to himself, entering the room and walking over to the bed.
Something had happened when he was in the tower. And someone had been hurt. The blood was still wet and was oozing down the sides of the wall. The smell was sickening. Blowflies were swarming through the smashed window and feeding on the fresh blood. He noticed that the drawers of his dresser were open and all his private belongings lay strewn across the floor. Whoever was in here was looking for something, he thought to himself. He then remembered his diary and all the letters he kept in a special box, all the letters that he and Weasley had written to each other. Panic filled him. What if his father found them? He started rummaging through the piles of broken wood and bedclothes. And then he found it. A small gold box with a small snake engraved in the lid. He opened the lid, expecting to see the bundle of parchment. It wasn't there. More panic cursed through his already trembling body.
"Shit," he cursed. "Shit, shit, shit."
He raced out of his room and tore down the stairs to his father's study, and flung the door open.
"Father!" he yelled, beads of sweat soaking his shirt.
He stopped. The sight that greeted his was not what he intended. A dark figure was hunched in a corner of the room cradling a limp form. He slowly moved closer so he could see who it was. He gasped in shock when he realised who the limp form was. It was his mother.