A/N: Heyoooo! New chapter! As always, thanks to my reviewers and followers; this story wouldn't exist without out you. IMPORTANT: In the previous chapter Lucius's father's name was Elex. I named him the cause I neglected to do any research. So I was poking around today and HP Wikia says that his father's name is Abraxas? So I went back and changed that in the previous chapter. From here on out Draco's grandfather's name is ABRAXAS MALFOY. Like I said las time: 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! ;)
––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––
Draco swatted at a fly that had been trying to force its way into any orifice in his face for the better part of an hour. Draco started slightly as a slender hand took hold of his own and gently guided it down to his side. He looked up and was met with the chastising stare of his mother. Narcissa didn't need to say anything; Draco understood perfectly.
He relaxed his hands by his side and subdued a flinch as the fly landed on his cheek and began crawling about. It was a muggy day in early June. Draco stood between his parents; the family was standing on the bright green grass outside of the family crypt. They were surrounded by the few remaining members of the Malfoy family. Standing to the right of Draco was Lucius, and to the right of Lucius stood Adelyn Malfoy.
Abraxas Malfoy had passed only a few days ago. No one had been expecting it, but no one seemed truly heartbroken to see him go. The only ones affected by his death were his wife and his son. Lucius was maintaining a stony expression, his lips pressed tightly together, but it was clear to Draco that he was suppressing his grief.
Adelyn was more open and forward with her sorrow. Tears streamed freely down her cheeks and she didn't bother wiping them away. She clutched her son's arm tightly, desperate for the support to keep standing.
After all that Abraxas had done and had lived through, he was taken down by a mere heart attack. Draco didn't feel grief over the passing of his grandfather; every time he saw the man, he had found something about Draco to scoff about. The two Malfoys had never been fond of each other.
Draco sneezed suddenly as the fly crawled into one of his nostrils and tickled the delicate hairs. Lucius shot a death glare at his son, and Draco belatedly clapped a hand over his nose and mouth. Lucius raised his eyes to the heavens as if asking for help before returning his attention to the funeral officiant.
––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––
Once the funeral was over, and Grandpa Malfoy was safely in the crypt, Draco had given Granna one last hug before he was dragged away by his father. As soon as they had arrived home, Lucius had disappeared into his study without a word to Narcissa or Draco.
Draco hung his cloak in the hall closet, placed his boots on the floor, and shut the door.
"Is Father going to be okay?" The eleven year old asked his mother, genuinely concerned for his father's wellbeing. Narcissa sent a lugubrious look in the direction Lucius had retreated. "Eventually, sweetheart." She smiled reassuringly down at her son. "Just give him time, alright?"
Draco nodded. Narcissa reached out her arms and pulled her son close, squeezing him tight to her lithe form. Draco draped his arms around his mother's waist and matched her squeeze. Narcissa stroked her hand through her son's soft blonde hair. Giving one last squeeze, she released Draco and stepped back.
"How about you go and busy yourself with some reading?" She suggested. "Dinner will be prepared soon."
Draco nodded and headed for the manor's expansive library. Draco had passed many afternoons reading book after book in the library, burrowed into the corner of one of libraries cushy sofas. Draco entered the library, picked out a new book to read, and settled himself into his usual corner of the sofa.
The golden streams of the setting sun had long since disappeared by the time he had finished his book. Draco yawned and gently shut the leather bound book. The second the book was closed, Draco gave a sharp yelp for there, standing no more than a foot away from him, was Dobby. The little house elf echoed Draco's yelp and nervously covered his large ears.
"Dobby! You scared me," Draco gasped. Dobby released his ears in favor of wringing his wrinkly fingers. "Dobby is sorry. Dobby didn't mean to scare Master Draco," he whimpered softly. Draco uncurled himself from the corner of the couch and set his feet on the floor.
"That's alright, Dobby," Draco assured, taking compassion on the clearly timid elf. "Did you need something?"
Dobby shuffled his feet, the tips of his ears drooping towards the ground. Draco frowned; Dobby's ears only drooped when he thought he had done something wrong or when he was bringing bad news.
"What's wrong, Dobby?" Demanded Draco. Dobby's vivid green eyes looked anywhere but Draco's face. "Dobby…"
"Master Malfoy would like to see you in his study," Dobby finally squeaked out. Draco instantly felt fear welling up in his chest. His father very rarely asked to see him in his study. "Did he…," Draco swallowed hard, "Did he say what he wanted?"
Dobby's hand-wringing intensified. He shook his head pitifully shuffled back a few steps, as if his lack of information would result in harm. Draco sighed. "That's alright, Dobby," Draco comforted the anxious creature. "I guess I'll just find out for myself." Draco meant for his words to be accompanied by slightly jovial tone. Instead they came out sounding just as unsure and uncertain as he felt.
Dobby nodded quickly and then blinked out of sight. Draco inhaled a deep breath to brace himself and pushed up onto his feet. He left the library and let his legs carry him towards his father's study.
"It could be nothing," Draco whispered to himself. "Maybe he just wants to talk… talk about Grandpa. Yeah, that's it. He wants to share memories with me." He didn't believe himself for one instant. Finally, he stopped outside of the double mahogany doors of his father's study. He lifted a fist to knock.
"Malfoy's are brave," he said softly to himself. "Malfoy's don't show fear." Draco rapped sharply four times on the doors.
There was a moment of silence before a sloppy, "Come in," rang out. Draco closed his eyes. Drunk. His father was drunk.
He placed his hands on door handle and pushed inward. The heavy door swung open and Draco stepped inside, putting his weight against the door to close it. Draco frowned when he saw that his father wasn't sitting in any of the chairs in the study. He had instead taken up residence on the floor, leaning against his sturdy desk, facing the welcome heat of the fire in the hearth.
Draco inhaled sharply as he saw three empty crystal decanters lying on the floor next to Lucius. What disturbed Draco even more was the half-empty fourth bottle that Lucius held in his hand.
Lucius was unpredictable enough when he was sober. But when he was drunk out of his mind…
"You wanted to see me, Father?" Draco asked loudly. Lucius lifted the heavy glass, drank heavily, then turned to look at his son.
"He never liked you, you know?"
Draco frowned. "Pardon?"
Lucius stared into the frolicking flames. "He used to tell me that to be a Malfoy was a privilege. That Malfoys are proud wizards, that we are proud pure-bloods." He paused to take another pull from the decanter. "He was constantly stressing how the Malfoy name must be preserved. He went on and on and on," Lucius spat bitterly, "about how we should act."
Draco gathered on his own that the "he" his father kept referring to was Draco's grandfather, Abraxas Malfoy.
"Malfoys must be leaders, never followers. Malfoys are brave, not pansies. Malfoys are strong and never weak!" Lucius hurled his bottle into the flames and Draco flinched as it shattered, its contents giving rise to the flames.
Draco was scared that the flames were going to leap from the hearth and into the room, but they receded after an intense moment.
The young Malfoy's heart was still going a mile a minute at the sudden outburst.
"He was so proud of me; said that I was worthy of the Malfoy name," Lucius whispered. "And I believed him." Lucius turned vacant eyes on his son. Draco swallowed heavily. "I am worthy of the Malfoy name."
"Of course you are, Father," Draco replied, hoping his father would turn away his empty stare.
"But you," Lucius pointed a shaky finger at him, "you are not worthy."
Draco didn't know what to say. "When you were born, your grandfather was thrilled that I managed to have a son to carry on the exalted Malfoy name," continued Lucius. "I was thrilled also. That is, until you started to grow up."
Lucius pressed his feet flat on the floor and, using the desk behind him, pushed himself into a standing position. He staggered a few steps towards his son. Draco tried to back away, but was struck with the realization that he was still leaning against the door. He had no where to retreat.
"I wanted a son who knew what he wanted and would do whatever it took to get it. I wanted a son who showed a strong advantage in the ways of magic. I wanted a son that I could be proud of!" Spit was flying from Lucius's lips. Draco's heartbeat drummed loudly in his ears.
Lucius stopped his advance a few feet away from Draco. He stared at his son with utter and complete contempt. "And instead I have you."
Draco felt the familiar lump in his throat that signaled that tears were well on their way. He clenched his jaw and forced the lump down. He would not cry. He was eleven years old, for god's sake.
"You are not a leader," Lucius staggered forward a single step. "You are not brave. And you most certainly are not strong." With each sentence, Lucius advanced another step. "You are not worthy to be a Malfoy," he hissed vexatiously. Just as Draco thought he heart could not pump any harder, his father reached into his pocket and withdrew his wand.
"You are not worthy to be my son," Lucius said as he aimed the tip of his wand at Draco.
"Father, please, I–"
"Crucio!"
Draco's mouth stretched wide but no sound came out. His joints were filled with a fire so hot, he was sure he would melt. His bones were splitting and cracking under his skin, which Draco was sure was being pierced by a million jagged shards of glass.
He felt his knees give way beneath him, but he never felt himself hit the ground. He flopped onto his back as his muscles began to contract and spasm, making his head slam against the ground and his hands and feet smack the floor relentlessly.
He couldn't breath until suddenly –– he could. He panted quickly, desperate to inflate his lungs with air yet not quite able to.
It was then that tears did fall from Draco's eyes. Through the haze, he could see his father looming over him, his wand still poised.
Just as Draco felt he was regaining his breath, Lucius cried, "Crucio!", and Draco's world was once again submerged in pain. This time, Draco did scream: loud and filled of every ounce of anguish he felt.
Darkness was beginning to encroach upon his vision the longer that Lucius maintained the spell. Then, just as Draco felt his senses slipping away, he was saved by a scream. But it wasn't his scream. It was his mother's.
Narcissa had entered the study undetected by Draco, who had been too preoccupied by the pain overwhelming his body.
Narcissa yanked the wand from Lucius's hand and tossed it to the other side of the study. "Lucius, how could you?!" She shrieked, dropping to her knees beside the supine from of her son.
"It's what he deserves," slurred Lucius. Draco didn't see the intensely malicious looks exchanged between his parents as his eyes slipped closed and he shifted into a state of unconsciousness.
––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––
Thanks for reading! Drop me a review if you've got the time! If there is anything you guys would like to see in the future, drop a comment or PM me! All the love and french fries!