BEHIND LOCKED DOORS
WARNING: Rated R for profanity and homosexual relations of the incestuous kind. But this is actually a story with a plot, not smutty homosexual porn. Flames only keep me warm in winter.
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Chapter Three: Brick Walls and Borrowed Daggers
A fortnight of the summer holidays went by in the Malfoy manor and not much was out of place. Social events came and went, most of them to do with business of Voldemort's reign. Lucius spent more and more time absorbed in his 'dark studies,' rarely leaving his study. Narcissia spent most of her days socialising with other aristocratic women, taking in gossip and rumours.
More house elves appeared out of nowhere, for it was their mating season, and nearly as many died at the hands of Draco. Draco, like most Malfoy men, was a sadist who enjoyed the 'snap-crack' noise that came from breaking the neck or spine of a timid-yet-irritating little house-elf.
Narcissia, after discovering her son's macabre fetish, simply instructed him to keep a limit on the amount of house-elves he killed. After all, they were there to tend to everybody's beck and call, not for morbid games of a bored adolescent.
Bored was hardly the reason though. Frustrated would have been much more appropriate. Every time Draco twisted the neck or cracked the pencil-thin spine of another house-elf, his thoughts were miles away on the insomnia-induced conversation with his father. It had been a waste of time, really, like hitting a brick wall with your fist just because you were angry. Lucius was an obstinate and ignorant man and would never admit to having a problem. Hell, Draco had peeled off a layer of his life and handed it over to Lucius in order to make him understand and it still hadn't worked. Now, his father knew he was a former suicidal and cutter, and all for nothing. It was frustrating as well as painful. He couldn't be bothered to try talking again now. He would just be repeating himself.
//Damn you! Damn you to perdition, Father! Why won't you listen to me?//
He grunted in irritation as the squealing house-elf struggled in his arms, trying to get away. It was obviously a very young one, probably only a few days old. The older ones were too meek and obedient to put up a struggle. *Crack-CRACK!* The elf stopped struggling and went limp as he twisted the neck brutally, breaking it on the first try. Sighing in a mixture of frustration and boredom, he tossed its carcass to the ground. The other elves would take it away later. He frowned as a thin line of blood appeared on his unscarred right arm from the scratch marks of the dead house-elf, then a slow smirk stretched across his face. An idea on how to make Lucius understand had come to him. It was all clear now.
It was late in the evening as the idea came into plan. Lucius exited his study to prepare for the dinner party with the Parkinsons, one of the few pureblood families he considered of equal rank to his own. They were scheduled to arrive in five minutes, but because the Parkinsons were notorious for their fashionably late arrivals, he would have just enough time to bathe and dress for their arrival.
Meanwhile, Draco slipped back into his Father's study. He had been there many times before and it only took him a minute to find what he was looking for. The blood-encrusted dagger that had marred his Father's arms. He whispered a charm to clean it, not wanting to risk any chance of an infection, then closed his eyes and gritted his teeth as for the first time in six months, he began to re-open the skin on his left arm…
The Parkinson family arrived at a time that could be described as fashionably late. Ten minutes late. By then, the house-elves had finished preparing the three-course meal for the night and the house was as neat as a pin. Lucius greeted them at the front door, dressed in his trademark black, high-necked robe that concealed his self-inflicted scars. He made polite conversation with Julius and Cassandra Parkinson in the guest room, completely ignoring their adolescent daughter, Pansy, who sipped the butterbeer poured by the house-elves as she fiddled with her red taffeta dress-robes.
Narcissia entered the guest room, dressed in silk robes, matte silver in colour. She sat down next to Lucius, not saying a word. Nobody would be going to the dining room until all guests were present.
Five minutes went by and Draco had not made an appearance. Narcissia remained calm, suggesting they start the first course without him. After all, this wasn't the first time a sulky Draco had insisted on being tardy for dinner guests. However, nearly ten minute into the dinner, he had still failed to show up. Narcissia, calm and apathetic, made a mental note to lecture her son about his manners. Lucius, however, was thinking on an entirely different wavelength. He was remembering the insomnia-induced conversation that had occurred between himself and his son only a fortnight before. He remembered seeing Draco's pale arm marred by pink and white scar tissue and his admittance that once, like Lucius, he had been addicted to the rush of pain that came only from slicing open one's skin.
***"So you see, I have an idea of what you are feeling." Draco finished. "It's a long road and I want to help you before it's too late."***
//Before it's too late…It's too late…Too late…// The words echoed and pounded in Lucius' brain, and suddenly, he felt a rush of panic as his throat and chest tightened agonizingly. Breathing heavily, he shoved his chair away from the table and bolted out of the dining room, much the shock of Narcissia and the Parkinsons.
The panic increased as Lucius made it to the top of the stairs. Something was happening to Draco, he just knew it. He checked Draco's room and ensuite. Both were empty, as was the bedroom and the ensuite he shared with Narcissia. Draco had to be in one of the rooms. The guest rooms were also empty and so was his study…except for one thing. A trail of blood started at the foot of the door. Dark crimson blots pointed a tell-tale arrow to the whereabouts of Draco Malfoy.
Lucius opened the door to the one room he normally wouldn't have bothered to check. His private library, filled with all the books on darkness. Dark wizards, dark magic, irreversible curses and hexes, and information on the most notorious criminal wizards and witches. And right in the middle of the room lay the near lifeless body of Draco Malfoy, his arms surrounded by his dark crimson, almost black blood that he had allowed to flow from the neat slices on each of his arms. As if by instinct, Draco's head turned and his cold, glassy eyes met Lucius' gaze.
"It's too late for us both now. We're both beyond help."
I cannot take this anymore I'm saying everything I've said before All these words they make no sense I find bliss in ignorance Less I hear the less you'll say But you'll find that out anyway Just like before... Everything you say to me Takes me one step closer to the edge And I'm about to break I need a little room to breathe Cause I'm one step closer to the edge And I'm about to break I find the answers aren't so clear Wish I could find a way to disappear All these thoughts they make no sense I find bliss in ignorance Nothing seems to go away Over and over again Just like before... Everything you say to me Takes me one step closer to the edge And I'm about to break I need a little room to breathe Cause I'm one step closer to the edge And I'm about to break Everything you say to me Takes me one step closer to the edge And I'm about to break I need a little room to breathe Cause I'm one step closer to the edge And I'm about to.... break! Shut up when i'm talking to you Shut up, shut up, shut up Shut up when i'm talking to you Shut up, shut up, shut up I'm about to break! Everything you say to me Takes me one step closer to the edge And I'm about to break I need a little room to breathe Cause I'm one step closer to the edge And I'm about to break Everything you say to me Takes me one step closer to the edge And I'm about to break I need a little room to breathe Cause I'm one step closer to the edge
And I'm about to.... break
"One Step Closer" by Linkin Park