A/N: My first ever attempt at a Harry Potter fanfic! I'm hoping this will be deemed a nice change of pace from my array of South Park stories! Please keep in mind that I did do my best to stick to the actual Harry Potter timeline, as well as the characters. Nevertheless enjoy, and maybe drop a review? xoxo
Part 1
July 1998
Draco casually strolled into the drawing room, a bottle of whiskey in one hand, his wand in the other. His platinum blonde hair, once the picture of perfection, was now plastered around his head via sweat, a few loose strands visible. In front of him stood his mother and father, a duo of equally blonde and well-dressed Malfoy's.
He smirked at them both, although carefully avoiding eye contact with his father. "To what do I owe this great pleasure?" He sneered, taking an adequate swig of his "beverage".
"That'll do, Draco," his mother stated sharply, promptly stepping forward and snatching the bottle out of Draco's grasp.
"What did I do?" Draco slurred, stumbling over his words. Cautiously, he met his fathers eyes: the cold shreds of steel penetrated him and he tore his attention almost instantly.
Narcissa Malfoy pointed at the clock that hung on the opposite end of that vast room "Its seven-thirty in the morning, and you're just getting home now!" She cried with a voice as shrill as that of a banshee. "You're doing all this...all this muggle crap!" She beckoned at his half empty bottle of alcohol and the package of cigarettes hanging out of his slightly ajar pocket.
Draco lowered his eyes and coughed a malevolent laugh. His father stirred into action and whipped out his walking cane, which he used to jab his son in the shoulder. The pain was not missed even in his drunken stupor.
"Don't...ever...pull...this...crap...again!" Lucius snarled viciously, pulling his cane back abruptly.
Now Draco hung his head in obedience, even fear. "Yes father," he mumbled dejectedly.
"Good! Now then, get to bed! I don't want to see you until this evening!"
Draco dared not argue any further.
When he woke from his light slumber hours later, he found the room steeped in complete darkness despite the warm July atmosphere outside the window. Opening his eyes wider, he saw that the blinds had been drawn completely shut, and thus he felt the familiar fear wash over him.
Some days later found Draco in the dining room, enjoying a rather oversized plate of food. His mother sat near him, caressing her sleek fingernails against a tall glass. She watched him intently, taking him all in with an array of fondness and love. His father marched in at that moment and took his seat at the head of the table without so much as a "morning" to either his wife or son.
"My breakfast, Ella!" He barked listlessly before turning to face his family. The petrified house-elf did his bidding instantaneously, scurrying out of the room as fast as she could. "How are you feeling, son?" He sneered at Draco as soon as the elf had left. "Out 'til dawn last night, I expect? Hanging out with mudbloods and riffraff of the like?"
Draco dropped his fork and slowly lifted his head to meet his father's eyes. He never did care for his patronizing tone, and that morning (what with that particular nasty hang-over) was no exception. Furthermore, Lucius's eyes were no warmer than usual, and he suddenly found the courage to pick his fork back up and carry on with his meal.
This, however, didn't adhere to Lucius's wishes; he prefered his son to be terrified of him and thus obey him without the slightest complaint. He slammed his hand down on the table with so much force that it shook the plates and made Narcissa jump out of surprise.
"Look at me when I speak to you, Draco!" He roared, grey eyes flashing violently. Draco unwillingly met his gaze once more.
"Yes father?" He jeered, curling his lip in mockery, trying to appear braver than he truly felt.
"You're pathetic; absolute rubbish. Why I continue to put up with you I cannot say," Lucius began with an edge of coldness to his voice. Draco didn't reply; he was now accustomed to daily derision.
"But,"Lucius continued slowly, "I think you'll be happy to know that I have found the antidote to your indecent existence." Now both Draco and Narcissa were listening intently. Lucius's lips contorted into a thin smile; he was finally getting the attention he sought after.
"I have arrange for you to be boarded out this summer with"-and his smile widened-"the Weasely's."
Draco's mouth dropped open. "You can't-" he began to protest.
"I can do whatever I please; you are MY son and you'll do as I see fit! End of discussion; Ella!"
Narcissa didn't appear to be pleased with the decision either. "Lucius, do you really think it would be prudent to ship Draco off to live with blood-traitors and the like? I mean, yes he needs a little more structure, perhaps we could arrange for-"
"A what, exactly, Narcissa?" Lucius asked coolly.
She narrowed her eyes at him. "I forget," she said, her voice as icy as his.
"No-no, do go on; I'm sure we're both just dying to hear what you have to say," he said mockingly, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
Narcissa gritted her teeth and glared at her husband, but did not say anything more. Draco, now finding himself unable to finish the contents of his plate, stormed out of the dining room without a further retort. As he ascended the stairs to his bedroom, his father could still be heard yelling vicious slurs at the house-elf. In time, the insults were overtaken by his own grief.
The very next day saw Draco sitting at the foot of the grand staircase that complimented the front hall. Wand in one hand, he took in the colossal manor with a newfound shred of appreciation. He had only just come to realize that he had, in fact, taken it for granted; indeed, it could be months before he might see the place again.
He sat up from the stair he had been resting on and began to stroll through the endless stream of rooms. The drawing room came first, and the mere sight of it made his insides crawl with dread. Only two months prior, Lord Voldemort had stood on that precise floor, punishing the three of them. Before that, his now deceased aunt had tortured countless individuals on the otherwise immaculate hardwood. Now here stood Draco, trying desperately not to remember that fateful May evening...
"My Lord...please," Lucius sputtered, writhing about aimlessly on his once polished floorboards. "Please forgive us; we genuinely believed him..."
"Perish the thought!" Voldemort spat angrily, giving Lucius a swift kick to the ribs to silence him. "You'll keep that foolish mouth of yours shut, Lucius, if you have any inkling of what's good for you!"
Lucius didn't dare speak again.
Voldemort began to pace about the now disheveled room, speaking to Nagini in parseltongue . The sound of the language made Draco shudder. Very judiciously, he averted his attention away from Voldemort and directed it at his mother. His heart sank when he looked at her for the first time since Voldemort's arrival; she was lying face down next to her husband, her features still contorted in agony although she was passed out.
"Oh Draco, how sorry I am!" Voldemort mocked, voice slicing deep into Draco's skin. "I hand almost forgotten you were even here." His wand was now pointing directly at Draco's heart, who waited in bitter terror for what was to follow suit.
"CRUCIO!"
The pain came and went faster than a bolt of lightning. He was vaguely aware of another's presence, and when he opened his eyes he saw those of his mothers, her soft voice slowly breaking into his flashback.
He had fallen onto the floor in a panic, and she was now helping him to his feet.
"It's over now Draco; It's over and we're all alright," she whispered in her soothing voice. "But, we need to go now." And taking his hand into hers, she led her only son from the drawing room.
A/N: Whew, finished! For those of you who made it this far, there is another two parts to follow this first bit. If you have the time, I strongly urge you to review please!
~Thanks lovelies
