A/N: Hello my pretties! I'm sorry, I know it's been a while since I've posted. But fear not my children! I'm back! Thank you to all those who've reviewed, favorited, and followed in my hiatus! EXPLANATION TIME; PLEASE READ. I haven't posted in over two week because my idea well is beginning to run dry. POLL TIME. If you have time, help a girl out and please pick one and DM me your answer. That way I can tally the votes and it'll be a surprise for you guys which one gets picked. ;) If there's something else you'd rather happen, LET ME KNOW. I am always open to suggestions and prompts!

OPTIONS:

1. Lucius makes Draco write with a Black Quill

2. Draco's nasty, extended family comes to stay for a week

3. Harry discovers Draco's fear of small spaces

Also, there's something I've neglected to address: THIS IS NOT A SLASH STORY NOR WILL IT EVER BE. One of my lovely reviewers, MagstarThePongo, was wondering if slash was in the future of this story. I assure you, my dear, that it is not. I have nothing against the gay community, but I won't be steering the story in that direction. Thank you guys for your support! You know the drill: if there is anything you guys would like to see in the future, drop a comment or PM me!

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing! I make no profit off of this. This is solely for my enjoyment and hopefully for the enjoyment of others! ;)

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Draco turned his back to the closet and leaned his weight against the door, making sure that Potter wasn't going to try and follow him. Draco held his breath and counted to sixty. When he didn't hear the doorknob rattle and didn't feel the door being forced open, he finally exhaled and started back off down the hall at a brisk pace.

He glanced behind himself at the door, making sure it was still closed. Potter had a nasty habit for disregarding instructions, especially ones that were issued to keep him safe.

The door was still closed as Draco turned the corner. He turned his head forward and increased his pace. He needed to dissuade his mother from hunting down Potter. If she found Potter and brought him to Lucius, Draco didn't want to imagine what would happen.

Before the black haired boy had joined them for dinner, Draco had overheard his parents talking in the front room. Mr. Malfoy had been pontificating about how now that Potter was staying with them meant that he was completely under Lucius' jurisdiction.

Draco could only guess that that meant that Potter was not exempt from the punishments Draco had grown up with. The second Draco realized what his father meant he had been struck by fear, for Potter's safety, and a fierce urge to protect Potter. Why he had felt any of those things, Draco couldn't say. He didn't like Potter in the slightest; he knew the feeling was mutual.

Draco was used to the punishments he received. When he was younger, he received Lucius' brutal punishments at least three or four times a week. Draco had always been a difficult child; he didn't mean to be, really.

The things that Draco had thought to be right or "safe" were viewed as wrong and worthy of discipline. As Draco grew older, he cottoned on to the way his father expected him to act and to which behaviors were absolutely off limits.

For example: Malfoys did not cry. Tears, according to Lucius, were a display of weakness.

He had been eight years old the last time he had cried. Another example: Malfoys did not show pain. Draco had always thought this was a stupid rule. What if he were dying and he didn't tell someone because "Malfoys did not show pain"? Nonetheless, Draco had followed the rule. The only times he was ever thankful for the rule was when he was able to successfully hide his pain from his mother. Narcissa wasn't heavily involved in Draco's life these days, but that wasn't to say that she didn't care for his well being.

Perhaps one of the reasons Draco felt the need to protect Potter was because Potter didn't know about any of those rules. Draco knew how to take a punishment from Lucius, Potter did not.

"Draco?"

Draco startled, and look up at the figure that had suddenly appeared in front of him.

"Draco, what are you doing out of bed?" Narcissa whispered harshly. Draco blinked. She was angry. Why was she angry? Draco wasn't aware that he had done anything to provoke displeasure.

"I couldn't sleep," he replied, not untruthfully. No matter where his parents were in the manor, Draco's ears could always pick up when they were fighting. Another curse of living with Narcissa and Lucius: daily, they would find something to argue about. More often than not, their disputes would take place late in the night and Draco wouldn't be able to sleep until their disagreement petered out into silence.

Draco had had a feeling he knew what tonight's argument was going to be about, so he had crept out of bed and had settled himself to listen.

Narcissa's face softened slightly at her son's response. She wasn't unaware of the effect her and Lucius' arguments had on Draco. Many times she had caught him listening just outside the door, eyes closed but ears listening with rapt attention.

"Come here," she said, stretching out a hand. The twelve year old walked forward until he was in range of his mothers reaching hand. Narcissa draped her arm across Draco's shoulders, pulling him close to her side, and began to steer him down the hall.

"Do you think you'll be able to sleep now that it's over?" She asked kindly, keeping her voice quiet. Draco nodded silently. That was a lie. He knew he wasn't going to be able to sleep tonight. His nerves felt too jangled. However, he wasn't going to be able to sleep tonight for another reason entirely, for as he and his mother passed the open study door, Lucius appeared in the doorway.

His gaze fixed first on his wife then flicked down to alight on his son's face. There was a steely glint in Lucius' eyes that shot a blade of ice through Draco's stomach.

"I believe I asked you to bring me Potter, Narcissa," said Lucius, eyes still on Draco.

"I–" began Narcissa.

"Draco," Lucius said, void of all emotion, "is there a reason you are out of bed?"

"Just a bit of restlessness, Lucius," Narcissa responded. Lucius turned cold blue eyes on her. "I believe I was speaking to my son," he said just as coldly. Narcissa bowed her head slightly, a silent apology. Lucius glared down at the pale haired boy. He raised an eyebrow in lieu of repeating his question.

"I just wanted a cup of tea before bed," Draco said as respectfully as he could. Lucius's eyebrow climbed a little higher.

"Indeed?"

Draco held back a cringe; he hadn't bought it. Lucius had seen straight through his lie. And Draco thought he had been getting so good at lying… Blasted nose; no matter how had he tried, he could never control the minuscule quiver the tip of his nose would give whenever he told a lie.

"Well, considering the fact that you're already awake, why not come inside?" Lucius invited, stepping to the side so as to permit Draco entrance.

"Really, Lucius, I think Draco ought to––" Narcissa began.

"Silence, woman," drawled Lucius. Narcissa clamped her lips together but tightened her hold on Draco's shoulder.

Draco could feel his heart pumping wildly in his chest. Despite the fact that Draco had lived with the man for all the twelve years of his life, Lucius never failed to strike fear into Draco's heart. And to add to this, being alone with Lucius was never a good idea for anyone; another reason Draco thought he might have felt the need to protect Potter.

"Inside, please, Draco," Lucius said, still standing aside. Neither Narcissa nor Draco moved. But in the next second, Draco regretted not obeying Lucius's second demand for, suddenly, his father's eyes were filled with steely fire. He was angry.

Draco quickly extricated himself from his mother's death grip on his shoulder and hurried into the study. He gave his mother what he hoped was a reassuring smile right before Lucius closed the door. Lucius turned to face Draco, his hands clasped behind his back.

The younger Malfoy raised his chin and set his jaw, doing his best to project a confidence that he didn't feel.

For a moment, there was only charged silence between the Malfoys. It was only broken when Lucius gestured to one of the chairs by the fireplace and said, "Sit."

Keeping his eyes on his father, Draco edged towards the chair and took the seat to the left of the fireplace, the one that was farther away from Lucius's desk. The heat pouring from the mouth of the fireplace was unwelcome as Draco broke out in a could sweat.

Lucius had also taken a seat; he was sitting in the cushioned, tall-backed chair behind his desk. Draco stared silently as his father took up his quill, dipped it in the inkwell, and began to write on a piece of parchment that was lying, unrolled, on the desktop.

The room was filled with the sounds of the fire popping and cracking merrily, a feeling Draco couldn't share, and the scratching of Lucius's quill on parchment. Draco sat, rigid, on the edge of the chair, waiting for his father to say – or do – anything. Draco didn't dare speak, for fear of only adding kindling to the anger-fueled fire that burned in Lucius' eyes.

The silence carried on for what Draco could've sworn was hours. He shifted slightly in his seat, barely moving a few inches, but the moment he moved, Lucius' eyes flicked up from his work and fixed on Draco.

Draco froze, his breath catching in his throat. Lucius glared for a moment longer before dropping his eyes back to the parchment. Silently, Draco released his pent up breath. He knew what his father was doing; Draco had seen this tactic in action before. He called it "Intimidation by Uncomfortable Silence."

No one like uncomfortable silence. Usually people would begin to talk aimlessly, hoping to ease the discomfort. Lucius would ignore them until the person would finally speak on the subject Lucius wanted to hear in the first place. Why his father would never come out and ask what he wanted to know in the first place, Draco didn't know.

"Explain to me, again, why you were out of bed?"

Draco jumped at the sudden tenor of his father's voice. "I couldn't sleep," he responded simply.

"The real answer, if you please," said Lucius, still not looking up from his parchment.

"That is the real answer: I couldn't–"

"No," Lucius interrupted. He dipped his quill back into the well to replenish its ink supply. "Once more."

Draco resisted the urge to huff. He didn't know how else to put it. "You were arguing."

He saw his father's quill pause its movement. "And this hindered your abilities to remain in your room?"

Draco bit his lip and shook his head.

"Answer me, Draco," drawled Lucius, not having seen Draco shake his head.

"No," Draco replied instantly. Lucius lifted his head and raised an eyebrow at his son. "No?"

Draco swallowed heavily. "No, sir," he amended. Lucius inhaled deeply, dropped his quill into the inkwell; he propped his elbows on the desk, his hands folded under his chin.

"I do not appreciate being lied to, Draco," he said stonily. Draco snapped his eyes up to meet his father's.

"But I didn't–"

"Do not interrupt me," Lucius snapped. Draco's jaws snapped shut with an audible click. "Why were you out of bed?"

Draco could've screamed; why wouldn't his father accept his answer?

Lucius rose from his chair and stepped around the desk. Draco saw that his father was now bearing his serpent-headed cane. A flicker of fear sputtered in his stomach. Lucius's cane contained his wand; he wouldn't have picked it up if he didn't intend to use it.

"Earlier today, at dinner, I asked you why you had received a detention," Lucius began, leaning back against the edge of his desk, "and you told me that you were out after hours. I ask you again: why were you out of bed?" His tone had gone flinty, anger brewing just below the surface.

Draco's heart beat harder. "I–I…"

A muscle jumped in Lucius's jaw. "Let's try that again, shall we?" Lucius hissed. "Fail me again and I will loosen your tongue."

A small shudder shook Draco's frame. He opened his mouth, not knowing what he was going to say. Lucius's face contorted as no words came out of Draco's mouth.

Faster than Draco's eye could follow, Lucius raised his cane and struck Draco across the face. Draco closed his lips against the surprised yelp that had jumped into his throat.

"Look at me, Draco," Lucius ordered. Draco slowly turned his face forward, but didn't look up into his father's eyes.

"Why were you out of bed?" Repeated the elder Malfoy for the fifth time that evening. Draco continued to stare into Lucius's chest; he had lied earlier for a reason. He wasn't going to give up on his ruse now.

Crack.

Lucius whipped the cane across Draco's other cheek.

"Why were you out of bed?"

Draco gave no response.

Crack.

The question was repeated again and, again, no answer was given.

Smack.

This time is was Lucius's hand that connected with Draco's face. The force with which the blow was delivered was enough that Draco's entire body followed his head as it snapped to the side.

"Are you willing to tell me the truth?" Draco heard his father's cold voice through the ringing in his ears. Draco was too stunned to reply. Lucius took his son's silence for a negative, for in the next moment, he had unsheathed his wand and pointed it at Draco.

"Crucio!" He snarled. Draco was no stranger to the Cruciatus curse; he'd felt it twice before in his life, both times in one night. Draco's familiarity with the curse, however, made it no less of shock to him.

The pain forced itself into his bones and felt as though it had shattered them from the inside out. It crammed itself between his muscles and joints and set each nerve alight with a vindictiveness to rival that of Lucius himself.

Draco's back arched and his fingernails bit into the pale flesh of his palms as agony clouded his mind. He couldn't breathe; there was no air in the room.

Suddenly, his senses returned to him. He found that he was no longer sitting on the chair, but was curled on his side on the floor. He heaved for air, his lungs still feeling impossibly tight.

"I will only ask you once more," came the silky tenor of his father's voice from above him. "Why were you out of bed?"

Draco made to reply, but there simply wasn't enough air for him to speak.

"Very well."

Draco tried to scramble away from Lucius, not knowing what was coming next, but desperately wanting to get away from the inflictor of his pain. He didn't get very far before Lucius's wand was back on him.

"Crucio!"

If the first time was terrible, the second time was monstrous. His muscles contracted so tightly that, had it not been for the occasional spasm, Draco could've passed for statue. He flipped onto his back with a violent shudder. His wide round eyes were filled with terror. The pain had reached a level Draco couldn't have even come close to imagining. His vision flashed white then black, but his eyes never closed.

It wasn't long before the black and white began to mingle together; black spots danced tauntingly as Draco's eyes began to roll back in his head. Would the pain ever end?

No sooner had the plea crossed his mind when, abruptly, the curse was lifted. That wasn't to say that Lucius thought him properly punished.

Draco curled in on his side once more as a booted foot made contact with his side. He wrapped his arms protectively around his middle, shielding it from more blows. This didn't deter Lucius. He aimed another kick at Draco's abdomen, but his foot made contact instead with Draco's right forearm.

Draco couldn't hold back the scream as a sickening crack rang out. He drew his injured arm out of the way just in time as his father's booted foot swung again. This time, it made contact with his now unprotected stomach.

Draco didn't have time to roll away before he was violently sick. What meager food he had eaten early brutally returned, this time diluted with bile. He coughed and forced the last of the sick from his mouth. He didn't move from his position on the floor, terrified that Lucius might attack again. He screwed his eyes shut, anticipating the next blow.

It didn't come.

Instead, the echoes of retreating footsteps filled Draco's ears. He cracked open one lurid blue eye; one of the study doors stood ajar. Lucius was no where to be seen.

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