Never Leave Me

Author's Note: Okay here is the edited version of chapter two, thanks to my beta reader Phoenix Grayson, you rock my socks!

Please let me know, my dear readers, what you think of this story w the edits, w reviews! LOVE REVIEWS!

Draco couldn't handle the pain and the humiliation of letting Madam Pomfrey look at his wounds. Luckily Dobby let her know what to check for, because the second he got into the infirmary he locked himself away inside his own mind, which really wasn't much better.

Draco remembered the first time he realized his parents weren't as perfect as everyone thought. He was about five and they had come back from some party early. They were both angry and they started yelling at one another. At one point his mother screamed, "I hate you! I can't stand being in the same room as you."

His father had smiled and, as he patted her on the cheek, he said, "It doesn't matter what you feel. It doesn't matter how much you hate me, for you can never leave me, my mate."

One of the House elves had spotted him then, and ushered him upstairs and into the bath. He wasn't supposed to be up this late, but he had been hoping to see his parents for even just a minute. He had been so confused that for the first time in his young life he couldn't sleep. He never understood those words; words that were repeated in so many of his parent's fights, till the summer before his tenth birthday.

Every summer his mother and he went to France. It was always his favourite time because his father didn't come. He loved his father, was proud of his father, but even when he was spoiling him rotten with toys and trinkets, he never once told him he loved him, nor praised him.

When he wasn't in a giving mood, normally right after one of the fancy dinner parties they held, he would make sure to criticize everything Draco did. Mainly it was because he was too loud, as children were meant to be seen, not heard. Every time he did something wrong later, at night, when it was just he and his father, his father then beat him and, afterwards, when he had 'learned his lesson', his father would pull out a vial of healing potion. If he had done something really terrible, like break something or, heaven forbid, he played nicely with one of the Weasleys, he was made to go to bed immediately; only being allowed to drink the vial after breakfast the next day.

So when he and his mother went to France, it was just the two of them and he didn't have to worry about being too loud or a klutz, which resulted in the most wonderful experience. He was even more excited for this particular trip, because his mother promised to take him with her to one of her fashion shows. He had been so excited, but then he had noticed that every day they were away his mother began to look tired, and older; she didn't have any energy. The longer they were gone the worst it seemed to get until Draco could take it no longer and he asked her, "Mommy, what's wrong?"

His mother had given him a tear-filled smile and said, "Come here my Dragon, come sit on my lap."

Draco had climbed into her lap and had immediately begun to play with the locket she always wore around her neck. His mother had tried again to smile, but instead had to bite her lip to keep in a small sob. His mother had cried for the first time he could remember, and she clutched him tightly to her chest as she sobbed until her tears all dried up. When she was finished crying she said, "You know Mommy loves you so much, don't you my little dragon?"

Draco had nodded and said, "You love me more than the whole world and heaven above."

His mother had smiled, a little real one, and then she pushed his hair back out of his face as she said, "You see, mommy loves you, but she really hates your Father."

Draco had bit his lip, because he felt like crying too, but boys and especially Malfoy boys weren't allowed to cry. His voice had cracked when he asked, "Does Father hit you too?"

His mother had let out a wail of sorrow at those words, and she clutched Draco tighter to her chest as she said, "Yes, your Father hits me too, and it's not okay, we don't deserve it. You don't deserve it."

Draco had started crying then too, as he asked, "Then why can't we leave, just you and me?"

His mother had cried harder and said, "Dragon, if I spend too much time away from your father I get sick, like now, and eventually I'll die. Then you'd be all alone and it doesn't matter how far away I got you, Lucius would find you, and he'd be so angry there is no telling what he would do."

That night, he and his mother had returned to Malfoy Manor, three nights before the fashion show. But he couldn't be excited about it knowing his mother was in pain, and hurting. A few nights after they had returned, Draco slipped and broke one of the expensive vases in front of guests, he tried to tell his father it wasn't his fault, and that the floor had been polished so it was slippery, but it didn't matter what he said. That night was the first night his father used his cane instead of just his hands when he beat him.

His mother had walked in just as his Father broke his arm, and she screamed, "Stop, Stop hurting him, please Lucius, I'll do whatever you want just Stop!"

Draco jerked out of his memories at the sound of his mother's voice, "Dragon? My poor Dragon, please talk to me, tell me how I can help you."

Some part of his brain seemed to recognize that he was in the infirmary, under a bed of blankets and wearing a pair of medical pants and shirt. Draco frowned, but before he could ask, his Mother said, "I heard you; I thought you were dying from how distressed you sounded. Please Dragon, tell me what's wrong?"

Draco could feel the tears in his eyes as he pulled on the top of his shirt to reveal the mark. Madam Pomfrey had obviously done her best to heal him, but there was the clear white of a scar in the shape of a bite mark. His mother sobbed and Draco gave his mother a watery smile as he asked, "Do you think we could go see that fashion show, the one in France, Just you and me?"

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