Authors Note: All characters are copyrighted by their respective owners. This work of fiction is for entertainment only. No profit is being garnered from this work. It represents an intellectual exercise only.
Rated K+ for the occasional use of language and eventual implied violence. All comments, suggestions, and constructive criticism welcome!
Chapter 2 – Malfoys En Familie
Draco Malfoy woke about the time Harry was falling back asleep. The hour was late, and he was glad that his father was away at some secret Death Eater meeting. Draco would never have attempted to send the letters he sent last night if he thought there was even the slightest chance his father would find out. That would simply have meant a fate worse than death, perhaps a fate even worse than of becoming a Death Eater, for Draco Malfoy. Draco got out of bed and immediately crossed the room to head to the shower. The Malfoys, being a well-respected, old, pureblood wizarding family had quite a fortune, and therefore, quite a manor. Draco's bedroom was easily the size of the Slytherin common room at Hogwarts, and he had his own bathroom as well. The bedroom was decorated predominantly in greens and grays, the Slytherin colors, while the bathroom was done entirely in black and white Italian marble with solid gold fixtures.
Like Harry, Draco Malfoy availed himself of the full-length mirror in the bathroom to examine himself. He was slightly taller than average, with blond hair so light it appeared almost prematurely white. His eyes were the grey of a stormy sea, and his body was that of a runner, though he was not a runner in any sense of the word. Draco lacked the scrawny look of Harry Potter, most likely because of better nutrition, but neither had he begun to broaden in the shoulders and chest. Even so, and much to his disgust, he still looked very much like the thirteen year old boy that he was.
Sighing, Draco stepped into the shower and began to scrub himself, hoping that he would be fully awake before he had to face anyone, especially his father, who was due back at Malfoy Manor sometime during the day, and who almost certainly would want to speak with Draco. Draco was not fond of his father these days. He was a Death Eater, and was in Voldemort's inner circle. Draco missed his younger days, when his father was much more loving, kind, and frankly more present than he was now. Draco, and his mother, had watched the Dark Lord consume the elder Malfoy, until the only thing left of the human being they had both loved was a cruel, heartless shell.
It had never been Draco's intention, after his father had become ensnared in Voldemort's web, to become a Death Eater himself. While Draco was most certainly a Malfoy, and was motivated primarily by power, as were all male Malfoys, he maintained some semblance of scruples. Somehow, sometime before his father became so evil, Draco had developed a very real sense of right and wrong, and a true love for all that was good in the world. Only rarely did this sense see the light of day; it was hidden deep under the Malfoy veneer of arrogance, power, and elegance. But, it did exist, and it was this seed of goodness that kept Draco from truly following in his father's footsteps.
Draco finished his morning ritual, no small feat as even around Malfoy Manor he was required to dress formally and be well-groomed. He went downstairs to breakfast, still hoping that his father would not have yet returned. He needed to talk frankly with his mother, and his sister, if possible.
Draco's sister, Ivy, was a year behind Draco at Hogwarts, and because they were so close in age, Draco and Ivy were often mistaken for twins. Ivy was the mirror image of Draco, with the same long face and white-blond hair. As Draco's features were quite fine, if not feminine, this was even more emphasized in Ivy. If Draco was quite handsome (and he was), then Ivy was equally beautiful.
As Draco headed toward the wing of the house where the kitchen and dining rooms were, he thought about his sister fondly. In spite of their rather formal upbringing, Draco and Ivy had a very close relationship. Draco worried about her, and was quite overprotective, even though he toned it down in public. Malfoys did not let their emotions control their actions. Draco was especially worried about Ivy at the moment, as he was not sure of her intentions regarding their father. Though Draco had sworn to himself that he would not support Voldemort, he had not seen fit to share this with Ivy, and was unsure of what her reaction would be.
Fortune smiled on Draco when he entered the dining room to join his mothr, as his father was as yet absent. Draco's mother, Narcissa, was in the informal dining room, just off the kitchen. This was the room that the Malfoys used for meals when they were not entertaining. There was a much more spacious formal dining room for dinner parties.
Narcissa Malfoy was seated at the large cherry table staring out the window at the lawn in front of the manor. A house elf, having just brought her tea, but no solid food, was just retiring back into the kitchen to ready Draco's breakfast of toast and a mug of hot chocolate. Draco didn't like to admit it, but he loved hot chocolate, and all manner of sweets. "Good morning, mother." He said, somewhat tentatively.
"Oh, good morning, Draco." His mother replied somewhat absent-mindedly.
"Where is Ivy?" Draco asked.
"I believe she is in the library, doing some reading." His mother responded, still watching the front lawn.
"I wanted you to know that I sent those letters we talked about." Draco's mother turned and looked at him, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.
"That is for the best then." Narcissa responded, clearly trying to be strong in the face of uncertainty and fear. Draco did not quite know how to react to this kinder, gentler Narcissa. She had always been supportive of Lucius Malfoy, and as Lucius in recent history had guided Draco and Ivy's upbringing with a cold, calculating hand, so had Narcissa. Seeing his mother emotional, and clearly upset only reinforced the image Draco had recalled earlier of kinder, happier days, and he resolved that he would somehow figure a way to get his mother free of the grasp of Voldemort, though she was there unwillingly and only by association.
The conversation between mother and son might have continued, but Lucius Malfoy chose that particular moment to return from his night of evildoing. The only warning Narcissa and Draco had of Lucius' return was a loud crack as Lucius apparated in the room set off the main entrance specifically for such methods of travel. Draco and Narcissa had no more time for words, but did exchange a brief glance that spoke more about their familial feelings then words could ever have hoped to convey.
"Ah, Draco. I'm glad you're up. Narcissa please excuse us. I need to have a chat with my son." Lucius said without preamble as he walked into the dining room. Lucius Malfoy was largely an older version of Draco. He had the same build, skin coloring, hair color, and eye color as Draco, but he wore his hair longer,to his waist. Like most men, Lucius had filled out with age, though he was merely trim, whereas Draco was downright skinny. Fresh from his night of Death Eater activities, Lucius' eyes were glimmering, and his cheeks were slightly flushed with adrenaline and excitement. Draco didn't want to think about where his father might have been or what he might have been doing.
It was at moments like this that he hated most the person his father had become.
Draco longed for his real father – the man who, at least in private, had laughed at Draco's antics as a young boy, and spent time playing with his son, reading to him, and taking him on walks across the extensive Malfoy lands. The anger Draco now felt toward his father had taken many forms, not the least of which was Draco's hatred of Harry Potter. At the time when Draco most needed a friend, Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, had rejected Draco Malfoy. At the time Draco was leaving for his first year of school at Hogwarts, his father had been his most distant, as Lord Voldemort made his first attempt at returning to power. Draco had felt alone and friendless, and really he was. Malfoys did not have friends; they had acquaintances, or associates, or even assistants, but not friends. Draco Malfoy wanted a friend, and tried to make friends with Harry Potter the only way he knew how – by being superior. It had hurt terribly when Harry had instead chosen friendship with Ron Weasley, and Draco had harbored the grudge ever since.
Thinking about Ron Weasley made Draco even more angry. Prior to Harry's choice of friends that first year at Hogwarts, Draco had merely despised the Weasleys, as he had been trained to do from a very early age. While Lucius had failed to impress on Draco the importance of being evil, he had at least succeeded in giving Draco a healthy appreciation for what it meant to be from a pure-blooded wizarding family. Certain standards had to be upheld, and while Draco did not have any real desire to discriminate against muggles, and muggle-born wizards, he did see a distinct need for caution where the muggle world was concerned. The Weasleys, on the other hand, seemed oblivious to this concept of what standards of behavior were expected of pure-blood wizard families, and the fact that they were poorer than dirt only made things worse in Draco's opinion. The truth was, Draco thought to himself as Lucius guided Draco toward his private chamber underneath the rug in the living room, that he hated Ron Weasley because in spite of all that he lacked, Ron Weasley was happy and loved. Draco Malfoy, on the other hand, appeared to have everything, but felt very much alone and miserable.
Having arrived in Lucius Malfoy's underground office, where all of the really questionable and downright illegal dark arts artifacts, books, and implements were kept, Draco stood before Lucius' desk as Lucius seated himself behind. He was rather surprised to see Ivy standing next to her father with that characteristic Malfoy smirk. He was quite scared.
"Draco," Lucius drawled, smiling evilly. "Your sister informs me that you and your mother have been plotting. It seems that neither of you have any desire to serve the Dark Lord, and have communicated your intentions to Albus Dumbledore, and Harry Potter. This does not make me happy." Lucius' eyes flashed dangerously. Draco waited, wondering how in the world his sister had found out.
"It was quite simple, really." Ivy spoke into the silence. "I overheard you and mother whispering to each other in the library the other day while father was gone, and then last night I noticed that two of the owls were gone. I assumed that your conversation with mother where I happened to hear the phrase 'never serve him' along with mother talking about Harry Potter and Dumbledore was what caused the owls to be sent and I informed father immediately." Ivy looked very pleased with herself. Draco was horrified, wondering if he had lost his sister forever. She, clearly, was anxious to do Lucius' bidding, no matter the cost. Draco began to sweat. This was very, very bad.
"Now, Draco, for whatever reason, you and your mother have chosen to disobey me. I will deal with your mother. As for you, my initial reaction was to let the Dark Lord deal with you himself, but upon further reflection, I have decided this is simply a matter of innocent teenage rebellion, and believe we can use this situation to our advantage." Lucius continued, still smiling evilly.
Draco finally found his voice. "This has nothing to do with teenage rebellion. I will not serve V-Voldemort, and I will not help you bring him back for whatever vile existence he currently enjoys!" Draco fairly spat this at Lucius, though the use of the proper name made him blanch.
"How dare you speak the Dark Lord's name!" Lucius rose, pounding his fist on the desk. He swooped around it, and stood just inches from Draco. "You will serve him."
"I will not!" Draco yelled, fighting back tears of rage and fear.
"You will, because if you do not, your mother will die, and it will not be an easy not a quick death. In fact, I will make you kill her yourself, even if I have to put you under the Imperius curse. And then, after you've killed your mother – it will take days for her to die given what I have in mind - I will flay you to within an inch of your life, and then turn you over to the Dark Lord to do what he will with you, and I imagine he will not be merciful."
Draco was again speechless. He could not imagine who this monster was that claimed to be his father, nor what had happened or what he had done to deserve this fate. But Lucius was continuing, and Draco found himself unable to look at his father.
"You will now go to your room, and you will not leave until it is time for you to return to school. House elves will deliver your food at mealtimes, and will pick up your supplies from Diagon Alley. You will return to Hogwarts, where you will enlist the aid of Harry Potter and that muggle-loving fool Albus Dumbledore. I will send you further instruction at the appropriate time, and I will know if you are behaving...properly or not."
Draco was utterly defeated. He barely noticed his father and sister leading him to his room, which had become his world, his prison. He could only think of his mother, and how, even if he deserved this fate, she did not. Not after what he had seen in her eyes this morning. Draco only became conscious of his surroundings after he heard the click of the lock, the outside lock, on his bedroom door. It was then that he thanked whatever gods there were that he was a Malfoy, and as such, had seen fit to make emergency provisions for himself in his room. He quickly crossed to his writing desk, removed the false bottom in the largest drawer, took out quill, ink and paper, and began to furiously write, grateful for the secret passage in his bathroom that led out of the house to the owlery. He just prayed his sister was less observant this time.