Chapter 3

A/N: Hey everyone, thanks to those who reviewed. This chapter kind of gives an insight to Draco's behavior. Hope you like it!

Hermione stood slowly from her crumbled position on the floor, still stunned from the events that had just happened. The finger marks on her arm were just beginning to disappear as she heard a few crashes from the room next door. Careful not to make a noise, she tiptoed out of her room and stood outside of Draco's, listening to his muffled grunts and reckless rummaging. After a few moments, she heard a strange crunch noise that caused her to back away from the door.

Hurriedly, she gathered a coat and her Potions textbook before leaving the common room. She walked to the library, looking forward to some alone time, when she spotted Harry and Ron in a far away corner, conversing idly and staring at their textbooks without a thought in their brains. Maybe a little tutoring would get her mind off of her evening.

"Hey, Ron, Harry!" she called to them, smiling as best as she could. They looked in her direction and waved her over to their table. She pulled out a chair and sat, examining their books to see what class they were studying for. The chapter on the Promptus Potion was laid out in front of them.

"I came to study for Potions, too," she said happily. Ron and Harry gave her looks of confusion, wondering why anyone could be happy about studying for such a dreadful class. Yawning, Ron pushed their books to the side and clasped his hands behind his head, leaning back in his chair.

"How come you weren't at lunch today?" Ron asked.

"We had a Head meeting with Dumbledore in his office," she replied, feeling sick to her stomach by referring to her and Draco as 'we'.

"Oh, cool," Harry replied, adjusting his glasses. "And how is that git, Malfoy?"

Hermione blanched, before regaining composure and replying, "Let's just say I'm having some trouble… "adjusting" to my new living arrangements." Harry and Ron laughed simultaneously.

"So I'm guessing nothing has changed, huh?" Ron questioned.

"Well, you know how he is," Hermione replied, attempting to ignore the wave of uneasiness that came upon her. Unfortunately, she felt rather on edge for the rest of the conversation.

Draco Malfoy sat on the floor of his room, his head buried in his hands. He was lost, angry, incredibly saddened, and he had no idea how he could make everything right again. Slowly looking up from behind his clammy hands, he observed the damage done to his room.

Trinkets and papers had fluttered to the ground in the wake of his uncontrollable anger. A few broken pieces of a picture frame were scattered around his feet. He sighed and picked up a sliver of glass, pressing it between his fingers and dropping it when it drew a little bit of blood. Sucking on his finger, he closed his eyes and rested his head on the wall behind him, unsure of where to go next.

Draco had always believed that his sole purpose in life was to impress his father. This wasn't an instinct he was born with, no, but it was instilled in him practically from the day he learned to walk. He literally breathed to astound his father with everything that he could do. It was a constant quest for acceptance. But it seemed that nothing he did would illicit a pat on the back, or even a slight nod of approval. Lucius never even seemed to notice Draco, and treated him much more like a pesky creature than a son.

Summer had just began, and despite Draco's hard work over the past school year, Lucius didn't say a word. His mother, however, hugged him and kissed his cheek happily, praising him and telling him how proud she was. She even hinted that his father neglected to receive such wonderful marks, and winked at him as they laughed at the thought. Impressing his mother was easy, though. She was proud of everything he did.

A few weeks into summer, Draco was home alone, sitting in his room and staring at the ceiling. He had slept in rather late, and both of his parents were out; his father was at work and his mother had been running errands. Draco wasted the day away, watching the telly, ransacking the refrigerator and generally being a lazy teenager. At around 4:30 in the afternoon, he was beginning to wonder where everyone was. Lucius always ordered dinner to be ready at exactly five, thus he would usually return at around four. And his mother had left quite early in the morning, why hadn't she returned yet?

His thoughts were interrupted by a stern knock on the door. Draco hopped off the couch and padded his way towards the large front door. He opened it and stared into the face of a stout, pudgy man with bulging eyes and a rather large, protruding lower lip. He held a small cane in his two blubbery hands, and he looked rather serious. Business, Draco thought.

"My father isn't home," Draco told the man as he began to close the door. "You're going to have to come back later."

The man struck his cane into the doorway, wedging it open a few inches. "Mister Malfoy, sir, I'm afraid I have some bad news."

Draco took his hand off the door and allowed the plump man to enter. He immediately turned cold when the man looked down at the floor and took off his hat. "What is it?" he asked frantically.

"I am the manager and owner of the Pollington Train Station here in Wiltshire. I'm very sorry to tell you, that…" he stopped for a moment, staring up from the floor to Draco. "There has been a terrible accident."

Draco could feel his own heart begin to beat faster with every moment that passed. His brow furrowed, and one of his clammy hands found its way up to his neck, where he rubbed his throat uncomfortably. The lump that had formed there was thick and refused to subside. The stout man seemed to be trying to find the right words.

"There was a, um… collision," he said shakily. "Narcissa Malfoy was a passenger on the train. She, well, she didn't make it. I'm so very, very sorry, sir."

Draco stood motionless, a thin film of tears covering his eyes. He shook his head a little bit, unable to move any other part of his body. The man was silent as he reached up and plopped his hat back onto his head.

He barely noticed the man had left by the time he looked back up. The house was empty. He forced his wobbly legs to move in the direction of his bedroom, not stopping for anything. He heard the front door fling open just moments later, along with a few crashes and bangs. Was Draco imagining it? He had no idea; he couldn't even gauge how much time had passed since the man had left.

Draco cautiously left his room and walked towards the dining room, observing several stacks of books scattered on the floor, a broken vase and a large chair on its side. Before he could retreat to his room, the familiar dinner bell sounded from the house elves in the kitchen. Frightened and still living in a dream-like state, he made his way to the kitchen and sat down in his usual spot, unsure as to why he hadn't broken down yet.

His mother was gone. Dead. He couldn't even grasp the concept, couldn't even think those words in his head without dismissing it. There was no way it was true. Absolutely no way.

And yet, Lucius stormed into the dining room and sat down, staring only briefly at the chair that would normally seat Narcissa. The rims of his eyes were red and his thin, sneering lips quivered as he shoveled food into his mouth. All the while, Draco stared blankly at the ghost white tablecloth, wishing that he were back up in his own room. They didn't speak. The only sound was the clinking of forks to their plates. Halfway through the meal, one of their petite house elves, Podey, stepped up to Lucius, holding out a wine bottle, shaking rather violently. His elbow bones protruded out of his skin as he lifted the wine bottle up to the table.

"M-More wine, sir?" he asked, his voice unstable and high-pitched. Lucius merely grunted in response, holding out his wine glass. The little elf poured the wine carefully, standing on the tips of his bony toes. Wobbling a bit, the wine bottle hit the glass with a clink before it fell to the floor, pouring the rest of the contents on the white carpet. Draco watched as Lucius' upper lip curved with each glug of wine that poured out.

"You stupid elf," Lucius whispered harshly, smacking the elf upside the head as he bent to pick up the bottle. He fell face first into the puddle of wine, before he scrambled back onto his feet. His eyes grew wide with tears as he ran out of the dining room and into the kitchen. Draco tried hard not to flinch. He knew Lucius was a rather angry individual, but he had never witnessed anything like that.

"May I be excused," Draco mumbled without waiting for an answer, already standing from the table.

"Sit down!" Lucius bellowed, causing Draco to jump a bit. He hurriedly planted himself back in the seat and continued to eat the morsels of food left on his plate. Lucius simply stared into space, not acknowledging his son or anything else happening around him. Finally, Lucius stood with Draco following in suit. They both retreated to their rooms, not daring speak a word. This went on for the next month of summer. They never spoke of Narcissa. Ever. Lucius continued to smack and hit the house elves regularly, and yell at Draco all the time. He spent most of his time in his room, trying to dodge his father. He could barely stand anyone anymore. He was alone.

As summer was down to the last month, things started to get even worse, if that was possible. Draco began to act like a house elf to his own father. It was the most shameful experience he had ever experienced.

It was a Sunday, laundry day for the house elves. They were bustling about the hallways, carrying large baskets of clothing, towels and sheets. Draco observed Podey, the tiny elf, as he struggled with carrying a huge basket of black towels. His legs nervously shook as he walked slowly down the corridor, the other elves bustling quickly past him. Normally, Draco wouldn't have been very interested in the journeys of a house elf, but Podey was blocking the narrow corridor and stumbling all over himself, preventing Draco from locking himself in his room.

"Give that to me," Draco said begrudgingly, yanking the basket out of Podey's hands. Quickly he walked down the hallway and into the laundry room, where Lucius stood. His back was turned as he stared down a shaking elf, who looked rather battered. He muttered some foul words under his breath before turning around and bumping right into Draco.

"What do you think you're doing?" he seethed, looking from Draco, to Podey, and then back to his son, who he snarled at. "You're pathetic, helping that idiotic elf."

Draco was rather taken aback at the disdain in his father's voice. Lucius slowly looked down at the shivering elf. "And you… You don't know how to do anything, do you?" he asked, getting in the little house elf's face. Podey didn't say a word. Lucius muttered, "Worthless."

Without warning, he reeled his hand back, preparing to smack the elf senseless. All of the other house elves in the laundry room stopped and stared at the scene unfolding.

"Stop!" Draco shouted, unsure of where his voice suddenly came from. That was practically the first word he had said to his father since that fateful day, and he had no idea why he even said it. Lucius turned around slowly, giving his son a look of disbelief.

"What did you say?" he asked deliberately. Draco shook his head but didn't say anything. The next thing he knew, he was being lifted into the air by his forearms. His father's hands were shaking as he stared into Draco's eyes, not an ounce of pity or empathy behind them. And then he flung him onto the ground, leaving him a limp mass on the floor.

"You are a coward," he said through clenched teeth, looking down at his son. Draco had never felt humiliation worse than this. The squiggly veins in Lucius's forehead bulged as he continued, getting more and more heated with each syllable. "You are a coward, and an idiot, and I feel ashamed to call you my son! Get up!"

The words stung worse than the physical pain. For the first time in a long time, Draco thought of his mother Narcissa, and of how much he missed her. The past month had been a blur, yes, but it almost seemed unrealistic. Dream-like. But now it was all too true as he stared up at the dark eyes of his father.

He stood on unstable feet and smoothed the creases in his shirt, before looking back at Lucius. "I… I'm sorry, father."

Lucius pushed Draco out of the way and stormed towards the door as he mumbled, "Get out of my sight. And kill that useless piece of trash." Draco widened his eyes and looked at Podey, shaking in his rags and muttering "no".

"What?" Draco asked.

"I said kill him," Lucius seethed while looking at Podey. "Snap his neck." Draco couldn't believe his ears.

"I-I…"

"Do it!" Lucius screamed. "Or it'll be your neck!"

Frightened out of his mind, Draco slowly stepped towards the elf, who could barely move. Tears rolling down his cheeks, his large head shook violently.

"No, master, please don't!" Podey whispered. "You can't do this sir, please!"

Draco squeezed his eyes shut as he took Podey's bald head in his hands. The feel of the tiny elf's skin beneath his fingers made him sick to his stomach. All he wanted was to break into a sprint, but he knew his father would catch him in a second.

"Master Malfoy, please," the elf begged him; his breathing had become hysterical. "You can't, you can't, please, sir-"

Snap. Draco couldn't believe that one simple jerk of his hands could end the life of little Podey. The house elves all stopped what they were doing and stared at their fellow comrade.

"There's nothing to see here. Go!" Lucius roared. Draco could still feel the elf's skin under his palms, so he let Podey go limp on the floor before running back to his room and slamming the door.

Draco couldn't sleep. Not just that night, but every night. And not because he wasn't tired, either. He was tired all the time. But he always had these dreams that would haunt him and cause him to bolt upright in a damp sweat, crying and shaking violently. He dreamt of Podey, showing up in his room and simply staring at him. Or he dreamt of his father throwing him to the floor, or his mother on that damned train. He couldn't stop his mind from running wild every time his eyes closed.

The rest of the summer passed by painfully slow, until it finally couldn't wait to get back to Hogwarts. It was all he had, now that his pride and dignity had all vanished out the window.

A/N: I hope this makes more sense as to why Draco is being such an ass! I tried to tone it down as much as I could with the killing scene. Hope you guys enjoyed.