Disclaimer:

As you might have guessed, if you aren't as big of a dunderhead as the usual bunch who reads this; I do not own Harry Potter!

Potter belongs to a Scottish lady you also might have heard of.

Yes, that's right. Joanna K. Rowling. The goddess of all the paper and quills in the world.

The wonderful, bright, witty, loving, heroic saviour of us all.

The writer and creator of the world we all love to borrow.

Not me, then.

I just own the plot and any original characters that might jump up on your screen and scare the sht out of you. Even though, I doubt there will be any, in this story anyway.

Warning:

Slash and angst, bad language and child abuse, in later chapters.

A/N:

Chapter one and two are now been beta read by the wonderful one and only: canihavea-soda :) (Thank you!)

I'm looking for a beta reader for the rest of the chapters since soda doesn't have the time. If you're interested, send me an email :)

Draco Malfunction

Chapter One: Drive me crazy, why don't you?

It was early in the month of July that the two Malfoy men could be found returning home to Malfoy Mansion. The two (one a fully grown man, and the other just about to enter manhood) had just been to the funeral of the third Malfoy – the only woman of the family – Narcissa Malfoy.

They were both walking slowly towards the large front door, the boy a little behind his father. The doors swung open before they even got close to them, for they were charmed to do so.

Days had passed, every day seeming longer than the one before. Life at the Manor was slowly returning to normal; the only difference was that it was now even quieter than it had been before. The seat previously occupied by the woman, Narcissa Malfoy at the dinner table, was now occupied by the teenager, Draco Malfoy.

Father and son had barely spoken to one another before… Now they said nothing at all. It was enough to drive anyone crazy! Draco was no exception – he'd never been one for 'quiet time' (as he now called his time spent at home). He usually liked it when people were talking loudly and laughing, like in the Slytherin common room (the house he was in at school). At least then he could talk his way out of uncomfortable situations, but now, when nobody said anything…

Draco looked out of his window. The sun was slowly making its way down and it would be dark soon. Morning would follow after the dark – a new morning, a new day, a quiet breakfast, lunch and dinner. The only time he ever spent with his father was at meals…he therefore hated the meals and ate almost nothing at all! He made sure to eat just enough so that his father wouldn't notice there was anything wrong with his behaviour. (Draco needn't have worried though, because his father wouldn't have noticed anyway).

Draco sighed.

He couldn't wait to be back at Hogwarts. He was even looking forward to seeing his school enemy, Harry Potter! Anything was better than being here in this graveyard of a home… He looked forward to Quidditch and the classes (especially potions, his favourite lesson). He looked forward to just hanging out with his fellow Slytherins in the dungeons, talking and plotting their next big trick.

Most of all, he looked forward to getting away from his father.

In just four (long) days, all the things he was looking forward to would finally happen. He would be going back.

There was a sudden knock on the door, which disturbed his thoughts. "Draco?" the voice of his father was soft but hit Draco like a punch in the face. It was the first time his father had spoken to him in over a month. He drew a sharp breath before answering.

"Y-yes, father. S-sir?" Draco silently cursed his voice for failing him.

"Can I come in?"

Draco briefly wondered why his father was even asking. After all, it was Lucius' house and Draco's room was just another part of that house. It was his father's right as the owner to go into whatever part of the Manor he liked. But, maybe things had changed… "Yes, of course, sir," Draco answered. Lucius entered the room.

Draco quickly stood up, glancing at his father. The man was wearing one of his usual long black and green cloaks; he could even see the silver lining of the cloak, as it was slightly open. Beneath, Lucius was wearing a white shirt with a green tie hanging loose and black pants. Of course, all of his clothes were the finest that the Wizarding World had to offer.

Draco suddenly became aware of his own undressed state. He had been sitting at his desk writing before he'd been disturbed, and was only wearing a pair of green, baggy pyjama pants. "Err…what do you want, sir?" Draco asked lightly, trying not to sound too rude.

"Draco, son…" for the first time in Draco's memory, his father's voice sounded unsure. "I know I have been…gone… For the past month or two. I have had my reasons, as you know. Your mother's death being one of them." Lucius took a deep breath; the subject was still painful to talk about. "The other reasons I do not wish to talk about." Draco nodded to show that he understood. "You are soon to start your seventh and last year at Hogwarts."

Draco waited for his father to continue; however, the older man didn't say anything else. Instead, he just took to looking at anything apart from his son. After a few seconds of silence, he shook his head, and said in a voice barely louder than a whisper, "Not yet, after."

"After? After what?" Draco's curiosity was awoken by his father's words and he desperately wanted his questions answered.

"You will know when you are ready. I will tell you."

"You will?" Draco was more confused that he'd ever been before.

"Yes, I will." A small smile slowly spread over his father's face. Draco stared…he had never seen his father smile like that…not since… Ever. Before he could say anything more, Lucius had turned and walked out of the room, closing the door soundly behind him.

Stunned, Draco sat down again. What just happened?

The train started slowly on its way towards Hogwarts. Draco felt a wave of relief wash over his as he watched platform 9¾ disappear in the distance.

He had been lucky and found an empty compartment to sit in. He was perched comfortably on the soft grey seats and looked out of the window at the passing scenery.

Suddenly, the door opened, and someone Draco had least expected to see appeared – Dean Thomas. The black boy in Gryffindor House; in the same year as Draco, but worlds away. Draco gave the boy one of his trade-marl Malfoy glares, hoping to scare the Gryffindor off. It didn't work. This boy seemed not only to be full of that so-called 'Gryffindor courage', but he also seemed to be very stupid (at least, in Draco's opinion.)

"Malfoy," the boy greeted him. He greeted him! The overly brave Gryffindor had just greeted Draco Malfoy and looked like he was waiting for a response. To Draco's personal horror, he gave one without thinking,

"Err…Gryffindor…" He wasn't completely sure that he'd got the other boy's name right and didn't want to make a fool of himself. No such luck…he still looked foolish!

"Thomas, Dean Thomas's my name, Malfoy. Do you mind if I sit here? I've looked 'round and everywhere else's full."

"Err…sure. Why not." 'Err…sure. Why not.' What was he? A Hufflepuff? No! He certainly was not! He was a Malfoy, and as such should have been able to come up with a better answer than that!

Dean had now taken a seat on the other side of the compartment. Draco noticed, with a little added mental shrug, that their feet had touched when the other boy had taken his seat. If either of them moved their feet slightly, then they would touch again.

Sighing, Draco looked out of the window again.

The rest of the trip was spent in almost complete silence. Draco spent most of the time looking out of the window. Dean, on the other hand, alternated between looking out of the window and watching Draco when he thought the other boy wouldn't notice. He tried a few times to make conversation, looking bashfully at his feet as he did so. Draco didn't answer anything he said – he was a Slytherin after all. He had his pride! He wasn't going to start talking to some Gryffindor! This made Dean incredibly frustrated.

When the train came close to Hogwarts, it was time to change into their uniforms. Draco wondered if Dean was going to leave – he was soon answered when Dean began to get undressed.

Since it was such a hot day, neither of them was wearing much under their robes. Most wizards often only wore underwear and t-shirts on such hot days. Dean didn't wear a t-shirt…

Neither did Draco.

The Great Hall was packed with students. They were all chatting happily about their summer holidays, and almost everybody seemed to have forgotten (at least for a little while) about the war.

Almost everybody.

Some students had already lost family members, and/or friends. They just sat there staring at nothing in particular; friends of these people were politely sitting by them quietly in silent comfort.

Draco sighed and rolled his shoulder – it was a nervous habit he didn't seem able to get rid of.

The doors opened and McGonagall led in a couple of dozen first year students to be sorted. Nobody really paid that much attention to the ceremony…Draco wasn't even sure if the hat had bothered with a song or not that year.

When the ceremony was over, Draco saw that Slytherin had gotten a respectable number of little slime balls that he looked forward to testing later on. He was at the top of the school now, and he felt it was his duty to make sure the new house members were up to scratch.

But, right now, he was tired and wanted to sleep. Thankfully, the next day was Sunday – the last free day before school started again. Then, he would have return to the tiresome work of trying to get the best grades. Now that he was Head Boy, that was even more important. This year, he would beat that mudblood Granger!

He yawned. But not today…

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