Cliché Chronicles
By JonDosh
Immunity
Disclaimer: The itty bitty wee Draco and his scary father are the property of J. K. Rowling, along with any other characters or familiar elements of this story. I'm just borrowing them to kill a cliché.
A/N: I have decided to write a one-shot addressing a cliché that frankly just seems like a lot of wishful thinking: being able to develop immunity to Veritaserum, the truth potion. This "idea" is seen with various characters, but it mainly appears with a macho Draco.
Can we say, "Goodbye, cliché?"
--
"Good evening, darling," said Lucius Malfoy, sweeping into one of the Manor's larger sitting rooms. Giving his wife a swift peck on the cheek, he looked at the shrivelled infant in her arms. "Can you not get him to stop drooling? One of these days he'll stain the upholstery," he sniffed, looking in the corners of the room for his cane.
Narcissa shot her husband a look, before gazing fondly down at her son. "No," she whispered lovingly. "You wouldn't drool."
"Narcissa! Stop wasting your breath; it can't understand you," he snapped, striding out into the hall.
"Lucius!" she gasped. "Draco is our son!"
Her husband walked back in the room, dragonhide boots swinging in one hand, a heavy cloak in the other. He looked down his nose at the pink child. "Doesn't look like any son of mine," he said dryly before sitting down to put on his boots.
"Of course he doesn't look like you yet," Narcissa exclaimed. "He's just a baby!"
Lucius stood, carefully donning his cloak before approaching the chair where his wife and son sat. He glared at the boy, poking him harshly in the stomach. "Are you my son?" he demanded.
"Ba!" Draco gurgled happily, wrapping his small hands around his father's finger.
"Don't wait up for me!" Lucius called as he walked out the door, after angrily wrenching his finger from his son's grasp. He had one thought on his mind as he stepped into the winter cold: he had to find a Potion's Master.
--
"I won't, Father!" the four-year old screamed. "Won't won't won't won't won't won't won't…"
"Draco Lucien Malfoy, if I have to hear another word –" Lucius began, his temper rising.
"…won't won't won't won't won't won't won't won't won't won't won't…"
Lucius tried grabbing his son by the elbow, but the boy slipped out of his grasp and onto the floor, where he lay on his stomach, pounding the floor with his fists. "Just tell me –"
"…won't won't won't won't won't won't won't won't won't won't won't…"
Draco, this is your last chance! If you don't –"
"…WON'T WON'T WON'T WON'T WON'T…"
"SILENCE!!" Lucius roared. Draco froze, gaping up in silence. His father never shouted. His father knelt down beside him, forcing him to swallow a clear liquid out of a glass vial. Draco's expression cleared and he looked up at his father, curiosity shining in his bright eyes.
"Now, I want not another word out of you, do you understand?" Lucius told his son sternly. Draco nodded vigorously, his eyes never leaving his father's. "Good. From now on, every time you misbehave, lie, or refuse to tell me something, I will give you some of this," he said, holding up the empty vial and shaking it a little. "Do you know what this is?" he asked, knowing full well that no four-year old would be able to identify the potion.
Draco shook his head slowly, whispering a hoarse "no."
"This is Veritaserum," Lucius carried on. "It makes little boys tell the truth." Draco's eyes widened, and his father sat him in an armchair before taking his own seat on the sofa. "Why did you tell your mother and I that you lost your toy broom?"
" 'Cause it broked," he blurted out immediately. Lucius raised an eyebrow.
"Broke," he corrected sternly, before pointedly asking, "How did it break?"
"I showed it to Nana Black when she came for tea. She broked it for me!" Draco exclaimed, grinning toothily.
"Broke, Draco, she broke it," Lucius said wearily, raking a hand through his long blond hair. He had no doubts that the terrifying Black family matriarch had burned the damn broom upon simply seeing it. "And why did you want it broken?" he asked with as much patience as he could muster.
"I want a real broom!"
--
Two years later, both father and son could be found in Lucius' study, furiously yelling at each other.
"I didn't do anything! She's was just gone! It's not my fault!!" the six-year old boy screamed.
"Draco, you remember –"
"It was Dobby! He cleaned out the tank last night –"
"QUIET!" he roared, effectively stopping his son mid-sentence. He pulled the now-familiar vial out of his pocket, pouring the contents down his throat. He waited for Draco's eyes to clear before interrogating him.
"Why is the fish tank empty?" he asked.
" 'Cause Ramora's dead," Draco stated without missing a beat.
"I see," Lucius said, narrowing his eyes. "And how did Ramora die?"
"I flushed her down the toilet," he replied, grinning.
"Why?"
"I liked watching her swish as she got sucked down."
--
Lucius marched down to the waterfront, fuming. He was secretly grateful his son was down by the river that afternoon, because he couldn't bear to have Narcissa discover his method of contro—no, of discipline.
He finally reached the riverbank, clearing his throat to get his ten-year old son's attention. Draco spun around immediately, dropping the handfuls of rocks he had been skipping across the water. His eyes widened in shock at the vial his father pulled out of his robes' inner pocket, and he tried, rather unsuccessfully, to back away.
"Father, I didn't do anything! Please don't—"
"Petrificus Totalus," Lucius muttered, pointing his wand at his son. He swiftly caught Draco as he was falling, pouring the contents of the vial into his still-open mouth. Muttering a quick Finite, he returned up to the bench that was conveniently placed twenty feet from the water's edge.
"What happened to Plinky?" he demanded in a low voice.
Draco snorted, turning back to the waterfront and resuming his rock-throwing. "She left," he chortled.
Lucius narrowed his eyes. "This morning, I had a perfectly content house-elf. This afternoon, I go down to the kitchens and find out that she's gone. How do you think I feel?!"
His son turned around briefly to look at him. "Pretty pissed, I'd say."
"Why is she gone?" he hissed through clenched teeth.
"I guess she might have been freed," Draco replied nonchalantly.
"Give me a straight answer!" he snapped. "Did you or did you not free her?"
"Yeah, I did."
"Why?!"
"I was too lazy to bring my clothes down to the laundry," he whined, throwing a large rock farther down the bank so that it scared away the ducks. "She didn't want to either."
--
"If I didn't know any better," Severus Snape began as he removed a vial of clear liquid from a high shelf, "I'd say you were—"
The clock in the corner of the room struck nine, and Draco swore. "Wonderful. I'm already late. Just give me the damn potion." He snatched the vial from his professor's hands, downing it. "Sorry, you were saying? What is it that I am?"
Snape smirked. "Immune to Veritaserum."
Draco let out a bark of bitter laughter. "Oh yeah. That." Still laughing, he threw glittering powder into the fireplace and disappeared in the emerald flames, as the potions master returned to his private quarters.
Neither of them noticed a pair of wide brown eyes watching through the partly open door.
--
The following morning, Draco Malfoy entered the Great Hall to find himself being stared at by all the students. Somewhat uncomfortable, he made his way to his seat at the Slytherin table, trying to ignore all the whispers that were erupting around him.
Grateful that Crabbe and Goyle were too thick to understand the meaning of gossip, he sat by them, selecting a few muffins for breakfast. He had just pulled the top off of one when Pansy sidled over to him, batting her eyelashes obscenely.
"Draco," she simpered, "is it true, what they're saying?" At the word 'they', she jerked her head to the right, indicating the Gryffindor table.
He suppressed the urge to roll his eyes, instead saying calmly, "If I knew what they have been saying, I'd be able to answer."
"Oh," she giggled, sliding back down the bench to where she had been sitting. After briefly consulting Millicent, she returned, determination shining in her eyes. "Are you immune to Veritaserum?"