Lucius Malfoy was not a happy man on this fine day in April. April fifteenth, to be exact day. His first (and only) son Draco's birthday. He had this day planned for quite some time now. On Draco's sixth birthday he would learn how to fly on a broom. Narcissa refused to allow her son on one any sooner, and, after some grumbling, Lucius got her to agree to this day.
The only problem was that Draco, like most children, didn't agree. Draco, in fact, was still standing on the porch steps. He had one hand gripped firmly on the railing, and the other was holding onto a stuffed bear. Lucius despised that bear, with it's cute button nose, chubby legs and arms, and innocent, shiny eyes.
"Nothing will happen to you Draco. Not while your father is watching you," Narcissa cooed. Not that she would admit to it, but she was glad that Draco was willing to put up a fight. Her little boy was much too young to be flying anyhow.
"Your mother is right, Draco. Now come here!"
Draco's chubby fingers slowly let go of the railing until his hand was free of the wood. He shot a nervous glance at his mother, who nodded reassuringly, and then walked down the stairs at his slow pace. The pace of a young boy who was scared out of his wits. He walked across the even lawn with shaky legs until, finally, he reached his father.
Lucius gave Draco an impatient sigh as his greeting. "Very good, Draco," he said with no feeling in the words. "Now this is a broomstick-" Draco nodded. He was staring at it with wide eyes. His grip on the bear grew stronger. "-you ride on these to play Quidditch . . . you do remember the game, don't you?" Again, Draco nodded. "Good. I didn't think that you were that daft. Now I want you to climb on-"
"No . . . " It came as only a small whisper. A murmur, barely above the wind. Lucius' gaze narrowed.
"No?" he mocked. "What do you mean by 'no'? Haven't I told you not to interrupt your mother or I while we speak?"
"Yes father," again, a quiet voice. A head bowed in submission. "But I don't like-"
"Silence! I don't care what you don't like. You are a Malfoy. What you do or do not like has nothing to do with it. You obey the codes of your ancestors! They have given their blood (pure blood, mind you) to give you the life you have. You will do very well not to ruin that!" Draco said nothing. If the bear was alive, it would have had no air left in its lungs anymore.
"Do you understand me Draco?"A small whimper escaped his son's lips. Nothing more. "Look up at me boy!" Draco looked up at him with fearful eyes. "Do you understand me?" he repeated a slow voice, articulating each syllable clearly as one tends to do with young children.
"Yes sir," the word were quiet, afraid, timid. Perfect.
"Get on the broom Draco,"
Slowly, Draco complied. He sat awkwardly on the broom, unsure of what part of his body went where. Unsure how he was supposed to hold onto his bear while gripping the wood handle. Lucius climbed onto the broom behind Draco. Narcissa had insisted upon Lucius' help the first time. Lucius stressed that it would be the last time he would do it.
Lucius explained how to get the broom to rise and how to get it to fly the direction you want. The minute he took off to show Draco how it worked, he felt Draco tense up next to him. Lucius stopped the broom when they were four stories up. He looked down and glared at what he saw.
Draco was hugging his bear tight to his chest. His eyes were clamped shut.
"Draco open your eyes," he said in a low growl. Draco shook his head. "Open your eyes!" An even fiercer shaking of his head. "Don't you disobey me, boy. Open your damned eyes!" he screamed. Draco whimpered and shook his head more desperately.
"It's too high!" he whined.
"It is not too high! Open your eyes this instant!" Another shake of the young boys head. Lucius let the broom drop a story. Draco screamed. "Open your eyes or I'll let us continue to fall!"
The bear was hugged tighter to the boy's chest, and his eyes clamped together with more force. He shook his head again. "No!" Lucius wrenched the bear out of Draco's grip. They lost balance and the broom fell a few more feet. Lucius held the bear out as far as he could.
"I'll let your bear-" he spat the word like it was something to do with muggles, "-fall. You won't be able to get it if it falls. I'll make sure of that," Draco looked at his father with fright lining his silver eyes.
"My bear," he whispered. He lunged for it and the broom faltered. They were jolted to the side. Draco shut his eyes again.
"Have it your way,"
Lucius let the bear fall. Draco's eyes shot open and he watched the bear fall for a second. Without thinking he took hold of the broom handle and shot down towards it. When the bear was safe in his arms, Draco made a contented noise. Lucius, on the other hand, wasn't pleased. Ok, so the boy had opened his eyes. And he had flown better than was expected for a six-year-old. But the boy wasn't supposed to get the damn bear back! Draco hadn't even stopped the broom when Lucius shoved him off of it. Draco fell the last story down to the ground with a sickening crack.
Lucius landed the broom next to Draco's crumpled body. The lithe little body was shaking with sobs. And that damn bear was again attached to his chest. His face was in the freshly cut grass.
"Stop your crying! Malfoys do not cry! They do not show fear either, and you clearly missed that point!" Draco showed no sign that he heard nor cared what his father was saying. "Stop that hellish crying!"
"What do you expect from the boy! His ankle is broken! Or can't you see that through your pride-filled eyes?" Lucius turned and slapped the woman next who stood behind him.
"Don't you speak to me in that manner! I will not stand for this back-talk from him, nor from you! I am superior to you and him-" a violent gesture in way of the sobbing boy, "-and don't you forget that! He's a Malfoy. He must learn that Malfoys do not cry. Even if he must learn it the hard way."
Narcissa bowed her head slightly to show him that she understood. After a moment's hesitation she moved towards Draco, but her husband's hand shot out to her arm to stop him.
"Do not heal his wounds. Let him learn from them to be strong," he said the words evilly and left without another word.
Narcissa watched her son cry for a while. His ankle needed help. If it didn't heal right the boy could develop a limp, and the Dark Lord certainly wouldn't like that in a future Death Eater. They'd probably kill him on the spot. She turned around, against her better judgement, and walked back in the house to drown herself in books.
Draco stopped crying when he felt something rub against his side. He sniffled a little, and looked down. A white kitten was rubbing against him with fondness. He sat up and wiped his eyes off and started to pet the little cat.
"I'm a Malfoy," he mumbled.
He picked up the bear and tried to stand. His ankle screamed in pain but Draco refused to voice it. He repeated the words in his head like a mantra. I'm a Malfoy. Malfoys do not cry. Malfoys do not show fear. Do not cry. Do not show fear.
He limped into the manor and led the kitten up to his room. Draco stumbled up the stairs, but made it into his tower anyway. His parents never came up there anymore. He stuffed the bear inside the bottom of the toy chest.
It showed he was weak. He had to be strong for his father. He changed himself into his pyjamas and tucked himself into bed. The white kitten had followed him the whole time. It curled up next to him and its warmth was a new comfort. Draco knew from that day on that he hated flying. And he knew that he wouldn't have a say in whether he had to fly or not. What his father wanted, his father got. There was nothing he could do.
A/n– This will have a sequel and it will end up being DM/HP slash. You don't have to read the slash sequel if you don't like slash. This is designed to be both a one-shot and a prequel.
Please Review!
Note: Edited on 12/16/04 for grammar, spelling and punctuation. A few things may be different from the original version, but nothing drastic.
:-:silver-sunn101:-: