The Three Keys

A/N: I do not own any Harry Potter Characters, just my Laurel and her family.

Thank you JKR for your brilliant characters!

CHAPTER 7 – DRACO AT MALFOY MANOR

Draco stood, arms folded across his chest, shoulder leaning lazily against the frame of the large picture window in his room. He was a quiet observer surveying the large yard and lush gardens of Malfoy Manor. His grey eyes scanned the gardens, thinking they brought at least some beauty to this hollow place. Draco mused, the only reason there was actually something beautiful in this hideous house was because of his mum's love to garden. It was one of the few pleasures Lucius allowed her. Besides, it was a solitary endeavor, so it suited him fine - Lucius did not want his woman socializing with anyone aside from him.

Draco looked down at his mum now; there she was, a lonely figure lost amid the sea of white marble that made up the patio. She sat at a large table overlooking the garden; drink in hand - as per usual - looking aloof, resigned and strikingly beautiful. Even though her life had been a difficult one with Lucius, it had not diminished any of her beauty. Her long pale blonde hair, so like Draco's, was twisted up in a bun atop her head and her fair skin was shining pink from exposure to the sunlight. Narcissa had amazing, clear blue eyes, like the color of a glass pebbles from the ocean. Draco's own eyes were a mix of this color and his father's cool grey ones, changing to suit Draco's moods.

He watched his mother pour herself another drink and he sighed, for even though she was so striking he knew this was a surface beauty only. He alone was privy to the ugly scars that marred her inner beauty, scarred her very soul and his too.

Lucius was responsible for these scars.

Lucius was the one inflicting and saturating their lives with pain and darkness. Dark magic was all around this place; it filled their lungs, seeping under their skin, like a sickness that slowly consumed them…

Draco was sad, angry and resentful for his mother, for himself, for the life they had and for the life they should have had. He wondered what it was like to be genuinely loved by a family – to have a mother and father that would do anything for their child. To have parents who would sacrifice anything to keep them happy; to keep them comforted and safe. To have a mum or a father who would even give their very lives to protect their children. He wondered in fact, what it would be like to have anyone love him like that.

Try as hard as he could, he could not imagine what that felt like.

It was there nonetheless, a sadness that sat like a heavy weight on his heart.

It made his eyes well up now as he looked down at a mother he did not really believe loved him. She did protect him as best she could, but Draco suspected she resented him since he tied her to Lucius forever. He didn't blame his mother for not loving him though, he understood more than he let on what Narcissa gave up for him, staying night after night, year after year making sure he was cared for, not tortured that much. There was so much more he endured from his father that he knew his mother was unaware of. She made sure he at the very least stayed alive. He knew she relinquished her freedom and possibly a true, real love for her son and he felt a horrible sense of guilt because of it.

Narcissa would never be free of Lucius as long as Draco lived - he was their bond, the chain that bound them together always. He was quite certain that if something happened to him and he died that she would be gone, like a shadow in the night. Narcissa was a very powerful witch, but she rarely used her gift, she held it in check for both her and Draco's safety. He could feel her controlling it; feel the magic pulsating under her skin, like an electric current ready to crack with the strength flowing through it.

He knew he would never be able to bridle his powers like that, stifle his life force that so longed to be free, uninhibited. Draco loved the feeling of power that surged through him when he did magic. He knew each side, dark and light. Both gave him a strong sense of belonging, he knew it could go either way, his path.

The dark magic ran through his blood, tempted him with the promise of abilities he had only an inkling of, a glimpse of what could become…but the lingering uneasiness that stayed in his soul when he was around it scared him.

As the years progressed he felt almost as if he were being pulled, lured away from the darkness. Maybe it was because he so hated his father that he would do anything to be different from him? He didn't know, but he knew that he felt respectable and decent when he was helping people…all people, including Muggles and Muggle-born. Though he would never admit it, Draco liked the feeling of accomplishment, of knowing that he, Draco Malfoy was doing the right thing. It was not the easy way; it was not filled with glory seeking or self-proclamation. He knew many thought these his usual traits, but this was a quiet journey, one he took upon himself to discover at a young age and one that he had been traveling on for a while now, secretly….Draco gave a wry smile.

If his father only knew what he had been doing these past three years he would surly not be standing there now.

Draco sighed and turned back to his room. He was tired and emotionally drained from being back in this house. It always felt when he was here like there was a battle raging inside him, the good fighting to keep control of his heart, soothe his soul…the evil beckoning, teasing him to give in, just a little would be ok – come closer, one step at a time…

Draco was not surprised that he was so tired and on edge since returning to Malfoy Manor for the summer break. He never slept well there, not ever. It was why he was always so pale and small as a child - he literally slept with an eye open, never resting completely. Ever watchful for his maniac father, bent on inflicting some kind of horrible torture, which he called a 'life lesson' that was supposed to instill in his young son some kind of warped 'Strength of character that all followers of the Dark Lord needed!' If Draco had a galleon for every time he heard that phrase growing up he'd be wealthy beyond his vast family fortune.

Draco in fact, had not slept well until he went to school at Hogwarts. It was there that he began to flourish and quite literally grow! He had been small and scrawny as a young eleven year old entering his first year at Hogwarts. Even Harry Potter stood taller than he! Oh how that had bothered Draco! His worst enemy standing a whole head taller than he! In reality it actually wasn't that much, but to Draco it might as well have been ten stories taller.

But as the years went on, he grew, focused on building his physique up and now was tall, taller than his father, strong physique and had a healthy glow. Gone was that pale, sickly look that hung about him in his earlier years. Draco had often wondered if he'd been cursed with some kind of illness to keep him weak and sickly in order for Lucius to better control him. Draco wouldn't put it past Daddy Death.

He had been so exhausted from the past few weeks being home -'Home' he hated that terminology, this place, this house was no 'home' to him and never had been. It had and continued to be a place of great suffering and anguish for him. He thought of it as a gigantic, gilded cage. It may look nice on the outside, but once in, you were trapped and on display…always on display.

Nothing was sacred or private at Malfoy Manor. If the lord and master of the house so chose, he could and did observe anything that was going on at any time in his personal kingdom. His abject control over his house, servants and family was complete and relentless. Lucius Malfoy ruled with no room for error, no forgiveness and NEVER, EVER mercy towards Draco.

Draco rubbed his temples and flopped down on the bed for a nap. His body finally giving into the exhaustion and he fell into a deep sleep, not seeing the tall, platinum haired man stride onto the patio below toward his wife.

Lucius was home.

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